On One Hand

July 21, 2006


Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:57 am

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July 20, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 10:46 am

I am in a creative lull.

I have the most awesome bedroom ever, now, or at least I will as soon as I get a DVD player and have the plants re-potted, and maybe get Internet at home. I wish I was seeing someone now, when I finally don’t mind staying at my place and would actually prefer it. My roommate just got a dog and it makes the house even more cozy and welcome.

If you’re an artist, you should email me. We could do some creative stuff. I am talking especially to musicians and photographers. Painting? Meh– I don’t know how I could get involved in that, unless you mean painting on someone’s body and taking pictures of it. Writers are good too if you know how to get published.

Or if you live in Boulder and just want to chill and introduce me to tons of people. (Maybe including guys). I am down to party. At least that gives me something to write about.

This will be the most boring summer ever if no one responds.

That’s right.

July 17, 2006

Up to an Ounce of Pot

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:39 am

July 16, 2006

Summer 06

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 9:08 am

1. I went streaking in the mountains at 2 AM on Thursday night, July 13. That means running down the middle of the road that leads to NCAR, which is about 3 miles from where I live. I was sober.
I could go on about that night, but I will refrain.

More craziness as it occurs.

The Spider

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 8:28 am

You have not released me from your net. And all the things I want to say are collecting in my throat. You didn’t – you wouldn’t – you should have – and all of the transgressions inhibit my breath. I am filled with venomn – yours – and want it gone.

Those who have fallen so deeply in love know – all that light in your body pricks your eyes and makes you blind. And when that person turns away you stumble for a while. You are filled with anger. Not anger for the turning away, but instead anger for all the things you put up with because you thought your suffering love would be rewarded, and then it didn’t happen.

You, meaning I, can say “I learned something.” Learned to doubt, to withold, to conceal, and so many other things life is better without. It’s fruitless to reflect. I don’t really know what I hoped for, or what I should have hoped for. I feel betrayed, horribly betrayed, and I feel like I haven’t been able to speak my peace. I’ve spoken, so much, and you know all my words, but they aren’t enough to describe it. I am so much more than words. Loving a vaccuum. Nature abhorrs it and tries to fill it with love so recruited me, and next time I hope nature tries to recruit somebody else.

I am told that I seek out partners with emotional problems because I am a “caregiver.” This comes from a professional, whatever that means, who says I am drawn to lost souls, who conceal their emotions, who are more likely to mistreat me. I think I can heal them but they don’t have the insight to know how to let me help them heal. I have to accept some responsibility for everything that happened.

We are incompatable because, no matter how much you want to, you don’t know how to love and you won’t let someone teach you. You desire it but not as much as you desire other things that contradict love, and you will not admit that they contradict. What is my evidence for this? My evidence is that after eight months this is the best I can say because after eight months I really don’t know you that well.

(And ten days from now will be exactly one year since we met.)

You went through a tough time. And I tried to help, but I didn’t, I don’t, know what you want. Because you don’t either. And what can I do? Let you tell me what you need – that’s it – that’s all I ever wanted – and you won’t, becase you don’t do that, you never did. And you are filled with fear so do not ask for things, and do not let people give you what you need. And now that we are where we are I’m probably too angry to stop the bitterness from showing through if I don’t keep my distance. This is not a time for bitterness.

You are aloof. I hope you find someone who can put up with that. You will move on much quicker than I, because, though you always accused me of being the one who feared lonliness, you fear it much more. I’m sorry that even when you have someone with you, you still feel so alone.

It’s time to set aside my anger. Because I beleive we are here to love and through love we become strong. I’m not that strong. But we are all parts of God and may God love you always. That’s what I can say. I love you by proxy of God.

May God love you. Always.
May God hold you. Always.
May God protect you. Always.
May God guide you. Always.


July 15, 2006

Protected: Fuckim

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 1:23 pm

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July 12, 2006

Black Cat

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:31 am

My roommate has the most affectionate cat I’ve ever encountered, which would be awesome except for the fact that it is a fucking CAT. My face explodes every time the cat touches me and this one loves to do just that. It lunges across the room to rub against me and I step out of the way, leaving it to flop over and slide across the floor due to the sudden loss of support. When the cat does touch my legs, I get hives. Sexy.

It’s a cool cat, it follows like a dog and it plays fetch. Unfortunately for me, touching things that the cat has put in its mouth leads to my worst allergic reactions, so I can only kick toy mouse around so the cat can chase it.

Two good things are happening: first, my cat allergy is getting less and less serious as my body adapts, and second, I was recently given permission to squirt water at the cat if it jumps on the counter sniffing my food. Not that cats really dig tofu anyway. So now I can say that my only problem with the new place is an occasional sneeze.

This is turning into an awesome summer. I moved into a new place on 19th and Columbine, 5 blocks from the Ramsey house, 3 blocks from Baseline and Broadway. I have great new roommates and am associating people WITHOUT serious life issues, which is an exciting new thing for me.

OH, by the way, soy protein tastes like chalk. But I am working out now and am very rapidly gaining weight, so I am comfortable with eating chalk in hopes that it will lead to sex with increasingly attractive people as time goes by, until finally I fall in love with one of them, after wild oats are sewn here to Baseline, and when I do fall in love it will preferably be someone who does NOT love cats.

Do I sound much less poignant lately? Excellent. I’m not stressing about stupid shit anymore, feeling sorry for myself and mourning lost love. I am in the clear and happy to be free. Ironically, now that love is out of my life, I’m FILLED with it! Everyone I see I have time for, energy for, care for, and so forth. I’m really excited about my new roommates. I’m really excited about gaining weight and being attractive. I don’t want to be a slut, mind you, but I hope I get an opportunity to unleash some of this pent-up sexual frustration in a clean, safe manner…

My ex is coming back from Germany soon. Not my recent ex, but the ex-ex, the pre-ex, whatever you want to call it but the guy I dated before the last one I dated. I do not love him at all but still find him attractive. Like, fucking attractive. I hope he wants to fool around.

July 8, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 10:12 pm
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Has anyone ever noticed how many gay online profiles say something to the effect of “don’t talk to me if u are HIV poz” or some other assenine thing relating to HIV?

Ok, first of all, are you really so frequently bombarded with messages from HIV positive people that you have to disclose your unwillingness to talk to someone with it? I’m sure I’ve spoken to people who were positive and didn’t tell me, but never in my life have I been contacted by someone I knew to have had HIV. Second, when your profile also says something like “i’m not a slut and don’t hook up,” then it shouldn’t matter if a person contacting you has HIV or not because you aren’t going to hook up with that person and he or she can’t give it to you, and the only reason you are even commenting about HIV is to feel superior. If you ARE willing to hook up randomly, then maybe you shouldn’t be such an asshole to people who have HIV because for all you know they were just as safe as you are and had bad luck.

If you’ve ever gotten tested, that means you’ve probably done something that could have exposed you to HIV, and you are not in a place to judge anyone else. I’m not asking you to get into a sero-discordant relationship if you can’t handle that, but seriously, show some fucking compassion.

I don’t know if I could be with someone who has HIV. I would certainly be willing to date, and I know that if I was in love and my partner tested positive, I would not end the relationship because of that. As far as knowing someone has HIV and falling in love after the fact, I don’t know if I could or not. I hope I never have to make that choice but I’m not going to say it’s impossible. I would be willing to give up any sex that could be risky for the sake of love – using condoms or avoiding anal sex altogether wouldn’t be that difficult, and if a condom ever broke there are drugs you can take right away to prevent infection. I grew up Christian, and although I no longer identify as such, I know what the New Testament says about people with Leaprosy and I see AIDS as the perfect modern-day analogy.

I probably shouldn’t care if profiles like the ones I mentioned earlier exist because I’m sure that an HIV-positive person doesn’t need friends who are that ignorant and stupid. But I don’t think it’s good for anyone when ideas like that are circulating, especially within the GLBT community, which should be more open and supportive to those who are struggling with HIV. HIV isn’t as deadly as it used to be; it isn’t a “death sentence” when drugs and lifestyle changes can keep the virus down to undetectable levels in the blood of an HIV positive person, but even so, I’m sure HIV hard to live with, and I’m sure that the hardest factor to face is prejudice.

Another thing I think is weird is that the gay men who hate on people with HIV or hate on people who do drugs or hate on people who hook up, often happen to be GLBT Christians. They’ll say something like “I think most Christians don’t act like Christians” to show disagreement with Pat Robertson or other right-wing religious fundementalists who oppose same-sex marriage or intertwine religion and Capitalism, but they still get an ego boost from dissing on the next group over. In my opinion a person who identifies as spiritual should be more tolerant than a secular person in the same situation, and that means that a GLBT Christian should be more compassionate toward people with HIV than a non-religious gay man, because the religion itself insists upon radical tolerance while the secular person only has a rational ethical obligation. If conservative Catholic priests and bishops can preach about showing love to people with HIV or sign up for the AIDS walk or talk lovingly to someone who does hard drugs, which DOES happen, then you, a GLBT Christian, can fucking do it. Jesus Christ.

I know that what I’m doing is bad: I’m just judging another group of people while I tell those people not to judge. But most of this is just venting because of what I have seen from personal experience. I know that when a gay person goes out into the gay world, he is just looking for opportunities to date, so the natural instinct is to not give anyone you aren’t interested in the time of day. That’s fair, but when you put on the cloak of Christian, you are accepting a diffrent role. You are supposed to be “a lamp unto the world;” you’re just as much of a minister to lost souls as your own pastor is for you as a Christian. The Bible demands nothing less. Imagine what would happen if you walked up to your pastor asking for a friend and he said “well I’m just looking for a relationship right now and you aren’t my type so I don’t give a fuck.” Imagine what would happen if Jesus said that to you. I think that’s why most modern Christain sects portray Jesus as single. What criteria would Jesus have in choosing a partner? If he were to accept one person, he would be rejecting someone else, and that destroys our image of Jesus to a degree. I’m not saying Christians have to be a “lamp unto the world” at all times, but please, for the sake of your faith, do not disclose your religious status to anyone you might deem unworthy of talking to.

I’m not a Christian but retain Christian ethics when it comes to reaching out to people, so the “being there” situation something I struggle with. I do not hide the fact that I am spiritual and beleive in selflessnes, and people who are typically judged harshly come to me expecting that I will be the one to let them in. I can’t do that for all of them, so I wrestle with that. I say I’m selfless and I say I’m selfless and I say I’m selfless but I only pick a small number of people to be in service to, and everyone does that. I want to be honest about how I think a person should be, I want to be “a lamp unto the world” for those who are in need, for everyone in need, but I don’t want a “flock” of followers coming to me on facebook.com because I don’t have time or energy to do that. The best I can do is direct needy to other resources, which is the way I’m currently handling the situation.

But back to the topic of prejdice against HIV: I think those assholish attitudes we see within the GLBT community come, just like any other form of prejudice, from fear. We are all a little afraid of getting HIV – all sexually active people face some degree of risk of HIV infection no matter how safe we are – so we want to push those who have the virus as far away from us as possible, and say they did something stupid. We put a mental block between us and them so we can feel pure and undeserving while they are dirty and rightfully sick. But those who face that fear of disease can be divided into two groups: those who turn their fear into irrational disgust and malice, and those who realize that we’re all at risk, so we should be kind to those who are unlucky because any one of us could be next.

So to those who think you’re up to it: please, lets all try not to be fucking dickheads. If you’re not strong enough to do good in the world, to work to fight the disease or to lobby for funding or befriend and support an HIV+ person or to educate those at risk, that’s fine. It is then your place to shut up and quit being part of the problem that the rest of us are working on.

July 7, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 11:31 am

When I was young I would be driven into a love-achy mania every time I was interested in somebody, and I’d want to tell everyone about him after we had done so little as talked on the phone or spent time together just once. I would pray every night and thank God for that person. It’s humiliating to be rejected by someome you’re so excited about, and you learn to save face by delaying excitement, or at least by concealing it. Years of that tempered me, so now, when I’m single, I quasi-date three people at a time and lament that I don’t know if I really like them or not. I know I could like somebody, but do I really want to? I prefer to be single even in spite of my longing for love. I’m always calculating, throwing a red flag every time the person I’m talking to says something that reminds me of Matt or Clay (my ex boyfriends). The romantic frenzy doesn’t start until after I know the person really, really likes me, and after I begrugingly accept, then fall in love, with, more often than not, the wrong guy.

It’s funny; when I’m in the midst of a heavy relationship, I’m always upset that the person I’m with isn’t romantic enough; he’s too aloof, or he treats me like shit, he doesn’t know what he wants or he doesn’t want as deep a connection as I do. Now that I’m single I get scared whenever someone I’m talking to seems romantic, because I don’t want that pressure. I just want to think short-term. I take a long time to fall in love, and before I get there, I don’t want to pretend that I am already there by thinking of the future or expecting monogamy.

I wish that both of the relationships I’ve had weren’t bad examples of how it should be. I’m sick of making myself submissive to people who treat me badly and I wish I could be sure I’ll never do that again. Unfortunately it’s not until you’re already somewhat committed that they start acting like assholes, because, as much as they fail to treat you properly, they still want you there for some reason.

I resolved, a while ago, to live life more gracefully. That means to see the good in everything, to show love always, and to do what I think is right despite the pain I feel and my desire for revenge or defensiveness. Grace a quality that helps you take the pain you feel and turn it into something good. Loving someone who doesn’t show love back is not ungraceful; in fact, it’s quite graceful. What I have learned from doing that is that it prevents you from being graceful later on. If I had walked away sooner, I would have been able to be a friend now. I’m so mad at myself for letting myself get treated badly, and now the only option is to cut off contact, because otherwise my anger will show through everything I say. I feel guilty for doing that. In January had a good opportunity to say to someone, “no thank you, I don’t need this, I care about you but the way you talk to me doesn’t work for me.” (It’s soo hard and so disorienting when someone who seems like a good person is rude and condescending to you. You keep giving second chances, but of course, people don’t change when you give them chances; they chance when you assert your dignity, and, gracefully, walk away.) When will I get that opportunity again? The Universe gave me a chance to assert myself, but I was weak, and now a bunch of people are paying for it.

I’m so tired about always talking about romantic love. There is so much more to life than something that seems to always bring out the worst in people. I wish I could just turn my sex drive off for a while and focus entirely on writing or making friends.

Last summer was a total manic frenzy of late-night binge drinking and wild sexual experiences. This summer I’m trying to be healthy; physically, metally, spritually and so forth, but it would be fun to get into that hedonistic energy again just for a while. I made so many friends that I didn’t know what to do with them all and only lost touch after my relationship with Clay made me too depressed to spend the energy on friends. I know I’m extremely attractive when I get crazy like I was last summer, because I’m not a naturally cocky person, so even when my confidence rises to absurd levels I don’t talk down to anyone and go after what I want with fearless determination. I am full of love. Here’s to hoping I find that again.

July 6, 2006

Songs to Play at my Funeral

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 12:21 am

About a year before my uncle David died of complications of HIV, his best friend died of AIDS, and David planned the music for the funeral. I remember being at my grandparents’ house while David kneeled on the carpet in front of the entertainment center with CD cases spread on the floor around him. David’s usually cheerful and carefree demeanor had been cast over with a blanket of solemnity, and my parents and grandparents left David alone to do his work. I kneeled down beside David and talked to him while he picked songs. I don’t know what David’s relationship with his friend was – there are myraid things about my uncle’s secret life the family never found out – but I know that he was deeply effected by the tragedy.

When David died about a year later, my family used the same CD that David complied for his friend at David’s funeral. I still associate “Arms of the Angels” by Sarah Mclaughlin with death and mourning.

The moist poignant thing about the entire situation is that when David put together the music to remember the life and death of his friend, David had to know that he was next. No one else in the family was aware that David was dying – we didn’t know David had HIV until just before he fell into a coma he never awoke from – and David then faced death of a stigmatized and awful disease without the comfort of family. Death must have haunted David while he put the songs in order, imagining that someone would be doing that for him not long later.

Eleven months after David died, his sister’s only son, Clint, died suddenly in a car accident at age 21. Of the three people on my father’s side of my family younger than David, only my sister and I are left. Once again the same track of songs songs was played, in a non-denominational funeral that mimicked David’s almost exactly. The only difference between services was that at Clint’s funeral the coffin was left open; even after a car accident that crushed part of his head and killed him instantly, Clint’s body was in better shape than David’s, which, before he died, had suffered a sudden surge of virus and infections that made his relatively fit and healthy body waste away and expire in a matter of months so that our family thought it looked too gruesome to display.

I find the thought of picking my funeral songs to be comforting. To put one’s things in order while death approaches helps one make peace with the end. By compiling my own sound track I write an ending to my own story: for at least two hours my life will be reflected upon through the lens created by the music I pick. Is the tone going to melancholy? Bittersweet? Upbeat? That’s to be determined by me, while I myself reflect on my existence, what I thought of myself or of the whole world from the perspective of one human.

I’m starting a project where I’ll track down people my uncle knew: friends, lovers maybe, coworkers, and all sorts of people that were part of the secret life my family didn’t know about. I know that many of David’s friends have died of AIDS, and others might not talk, but that only adds to the intrigue. It’s not necessarily about David’s story, which is lost now; it’s about my own story of trying to find a piece of myself through a family member lost before I understood what it meant to live the life he did.

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