Dinner with Famke Janssen

Last night I had a dream. In this dream I was competing with a friend of mine to go out on a date with Famke Janssen.



At one point my friend turns to me and says: “Dude, you’re fucking gay. You won’t even sleep with her. Why are you doing this to me?”

I don’t recall my exact words, but it was something along the lines of “I’d happily go straight for her. I’ve always loved Famke!”

I also don’t recall what exactly we had to do to win her love and affection, but I do know I won. We were eating on some patio (probably in Venice because there were canals) and the entire time she did nothing but whine and complain about her failing film career. I just sat there, consoling her and thinking that I’d never get to sleep with her at this rate and that my life was ruined.

Upon waking I realized two things:

1) Famke Janssen hasn’t exactly had a megastar career

2) I don’t care, I still adore her anyway.

so about saturday night…

 

I was supposed to go to a “bad art” party.  I was invited to a going-away party.  I was also invited to a “let’s all sit around and listen to me be depressed” kick-back.  I was invited over to a friend’s house for hookah.  I did none of these things.

Instead, I made up several conversations in my head with the people who invited me to said functions about why I couldn’t come, or why I was uninvited.  And then I drove my car West on Bell Road out into the desert where no one knows my name and no one with any sense lives.

I drove on a barren road, under the cover of darkness (it was cloudy out) and parked on a turn off.  I got out of my car and proceeded to walk, alone, into the desert.  The air was chilly and dry.  This “super moon” everyone was talking about was, sadly, not visible due to the cloud coverage. 

I kept walking until I got to a point that, when I turned to look behind me, the road was distant enough that any lone traveller on it would be a duo of tiny yellow dots.  It was really quiet.  Almost eerily so.  At that moment I wished I was either high or drunk.  Alas, Babylon, I was neither.

I tilted my head up.  Took in a deep breath.  And I screamed.  At first, it was nothing but the sort of angry scream we’ve heard on movies dozens of times.  Inside I felt like a small boy who went suddenly radioactive and exploded in a sleepy neighborhood.  All this pent up rage and anger; it was so much that it felt like if it could be focused into a single point, it would trigger a large explosion.

Once I was out of breath, I stopped and panted.  And then I screamed again.  This time, it was actual words.

“I hate you, Joe Vega”
”I hate you, God”
”I hate you, Mom”
”I hate you, Dad”
”I hate you, Corey”

And then, when it was all over, I slumped back to my car.  I sat there for a moment or two, hands on the steering wheel, trying to collect myself and actually feel what just happened.  Nothing.

I started my car and drove back home.  Nothing changed.  Nothing magical or wonderful happened because of my little tantrum.  I could still feel the stiffness in my chest.  I could still feel the burning rage settling in the back of my mind, dormant and waiting to be triggered again.  And most of all, the hollow, empty, alone feeling remained center of it all. 

I got home, told a lie about where I’d just been, went to my room and attempted to write this out.  I couldn’t.  Instead, I watched porn and failed to respond to it.  I listened to 5 minutes of Bill Maher, but found it numbing.  I tried to write something not related to what I had done, but couldn’t find words.  I turned on Netflix and fell asleep to some mind-numbing teen show about aliens in Roswell and their “tragic” lives.

Day 4: Write about your closest friend(s)

 

I’m using by blog to answer this one because I have this guilty feeling whenever I post rather lengthy text posts on Tumblr.  I don’t like the idea of hogging people’s dashboards.  Not too mention no one really reads something long.  Not that this post is going to be insanely long.  It might have been earlier today, when I gave a fuck about things.  But now I’m buzzed, a little sleepy and ready to just get on with it.

My closest friend in the entirety of the planet that we live on in the solar system of space and heaven and Wally World and

My closest friend is Ryan.  We've been friends since 7th grade.  At first, we hated each other.  Like, bad.  We both found one another to be obnoxious and annoying.  He hated my weird, geekiness and probably my glasses.  I hated his smug, “I know everything” sort of attitude.  Somehow we ended up the best of friends.

We share a lot of the same interests; from video games and movies, to tv, music and politics.  We have a lot of the same though processes and compliment each other nicely.  We’ve definitely been through some shit over the years.  I did very, very, VERY wrong to him a couple years back, but our friendship survived.  It was pretty rocky for a year or so, but in the end we came out alright.  He’s married and has a daughter (another one due in August).  He moved to New Mexico going on two years ago.  Lately we haven’t really talked as much as we used it.  It does make me feel…sad.  I hate the thought of “out of sight, out of mind”…  At any rate, I try to visit him as often as I can.  I was just there for a week this past January and it was a blast.  Just like old times.

That’s really it.  You know you have yourself a soulfriend when you can go without talking for a month or two and then, when you see each other, you can pick up right where you left off.  Like nothing happened.  That’s us.  And I love him dearly.  He’s pretty much my other brother.

Another close friend would be my “work wife”, Diana.  We have this interesting relationship.  We don’t have too much in common, though we do both love really attractive men.  She’s a year older than I am, married and has two really adorable  boys.  The story of how she and her husband came to be is touching and almost makes me believe that it’s all worth it.  Sometimes

She and I get a long (for the most part) pretty swimmingly.  We play off one another, trading jokes and saying things that would get anyone else fired for sexual harassment.  We share personal stories about our relationships, give one another advice and just support each other through shit.  We don’t always see eye-to-eye or always get along (or always get one another), but in the end our friendship is a strong one.  I know she will always be there for me, even when she moves away this summer.  I will always be there for her too, though I don’t think she always believes that.  Then again, with my track record I don’t blame her.

And then there is my sister.  She’s almost two years younger than me, but we grew up pretty close and a strong friendship resulted from that.  Again, we don’t always get along (sibling fights are a must, after all), but she is the only one in my family to vocalize her acceptance of my sexuality and that there is nothing wrong with it.  Sometimes we don’t like going out with one another because we look nothing alike and sometimes people will mistake us for a couple.  No good.  Nooooo good.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Katie.  We met back in high school and I thought she was kind of pretentious at first.  Which is what I think most people think of me too.  We bonded in Chemistry, ditched our respective third periods on a daily basis for Egg McMuffins and conversation.  She supplied my addiction to Mountain Dew and smart, quirky talk and I…gave her someone to laugh at and rides to places.  We’ve grown apart over the years (totally my fault) and I miss her.  We hang out once every great while and I love it when we do.  If I wasn’t so damn anti-social most nights I’d be asking her to do stuff.

Fox.  Met this guy back in exile in Michigan in 2007.  He’s hot.  He’s funny.  He’s a total man whore.  He’s smart.  He paints.  He tried to sleep with me (or I him, I don’t recall……) and I’m glad we didn’t.  I think it would have ruined the long-distance friendship we share.  Fox St. John, you are a dirty, dirty boy.

Conner.  We’re not best friends, and I think that has more to do with time and space than lack of interest or effort.  Plus, the guy knows a shit ton of people so I could see how easy it could be to get lost in the fold.  Regardless, he’s a really awesome guy.  Funny, quirky, smart and cute.  A good kisser too.  And a sucker for wine, fires and good music.

Trina.  You’re my best friend’s wife.  I won’t lie, there was a period of time I resented the relationship you have with Ryan.  There was a time, when it got serious between you two and you got married and all, that I wished you had never shown up.  That it was still the two of us against the world, facing it down the barrel of a gun, waiting to dodge another bullet or get totally fucked up.  Of course now I know you were one of the best things to have ever happened to him.  You tempered out some of his more irrational ways and have helped mold him into the awesome joe that he is now.  Plus you’re sweet and caring and have put up with more than your fair share of my shit.  You’re a good friend and I miss talking to you.

Welcome back Mr. McCarthy

Let me just say that US Representative Peter King (R-NY) is a complete and total gasbag. He’s chairs the House Committee on Homeland Security, which has recently started holding hearings into the radicalization of American-Muslims.

This whole thing just SCREAMS of the House Un-American Activities Committee and the Red Scare days of Senator Joseph McCarthy. Seriously, what the hell is the point of these kinds of hearings?

It’s one thing to investigate possible threats to your country. I get that. Being safe is good and all, but at what cost? Furthermore, why limit the scope of such a committee to the Muslim community? Yes, extremist Muslims performed horrific acts of terror. Let’s not kid ourselves though, Christian extremists are just as bad. Extremists of any sort aren’t usually a good thing.

You have psychopathic, ignorant members of the Westboro Baptist Church who mentally and emotionally terrorize the family and friends of fallen soldiers who had been fighting in a war that should never have been waged, all because of their misguided, narrow-minded view that America is accepting and promoting homosexuality. (Last time I checked, while not Uganda or the like, America isn’t exactly the inclusive, accepting haven of the gay community).

You have organizations like the Klu Klux Klan that have been terrorizing minority communities for decades, and for what? Because they weren’t born white? You have people like Timothy McVeigh and Charles Manson who weren’t Muslim but still managed to incite chaos and destruction. Where’s the committee to investigate people like that?

This is Islamaphobia. A center-right, “religious” nation that balks at any sort of culture that might challenge the ideals that this country was founded on. This is the result of a political party that has become dominated by a vast wing of religious nutbags who can’t seem to accept the division of church and state. A group that wishes to see a singular way of living and thinking brought into law.

Ugh. I get irritated and pissy just thinking about it. Aren’t there other things we should be focusing on right now? This is just a huge waste of tax-payer monies. What the hell is going to come from this? What is the outcome? Are we going to ban Muslims? Are we going to pass more laws that limit our personal freedoms in the name of “security”?

Here’s something to think about. The top three most crime-ridden cities in the US: Detroit, Flint and St. Louis. How about you direct your energies into investigating why that is and how to stop it. Make an effort to do something practical and, I dunno, benefit the country as a whole instead of pandering to your close-minded base.

Our economy is in the tank. Let’s work on that.

Oh that’s right. Poor people and minorities don’t vote for you anyway, so why would you care?

stupid kiss

I still can’t write that story for this picture.

I see this and I know this was not a sad, goodbye, breakup, “we’ll never see each other again” sort of kiss, but I know that’s how my story would end up.  I’m just not good at writing something happy and cheery and joyous.

At any rate, I shall force myself to have it done before week’s end.  That way I can start on something else.

scratch that.

I just remembered that I have a blog out there where I write letters to real people in my life.  It’s all done anonymously.  I don’t use my name.  It allows me to express exactly what I’m feeling without having to actually tell them and…  yeah.  so very passive-aggressive.

I read through a couple of them last night and felt a little silly.  Which is why I’m glad that I use a different name for myself.  I still need to write that story.  And finish my thoughts from last night’s blog.

I’m just unmotivated and feeling a lot less profound than I’d like.  Bitch.

yeah, tomorrow.

 

So I was going to write this long thing about feelings and issues.  My walks at night, aside from keeping my dog from become a rolling stone, are a good opportunity for me to just think.  I think about a lot of things.  Too many things.

Tonight was some serious self-reflection and yatta, yatta, yatta.  I had it all planned out but now that I’m home and sitting down and typing I just don’t think I have the energy to do it all again.

I don’t really have anyone I can talk about all this stuff with either.  It’s all pretty heavy. 

It’s times like these that make me sad I’ve removed myself from it all.  The more things change, the more things stay the same.  Truly true.