June 2015

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  • Base style: Drifting by Jennie Griner
  • Theme: Heart of Darkness by nornoriel
  • Resources: OSWD design

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Tuesday, March 31st, 2015 12:34 am

Do you remember being young and in the firm belief that the universe existed the day you were born, the world was timeless, everything was always there, would always be there? Your parents were these timeless mostly benevolent beings that would always be there.

Do you remember how the world always seemed just on the verge of magic?  A tree stump could become a house for little people. The sky full of cloud pillows shaped like fish that swam through and endless blue shell.

I like to reel my mind back, stopping a little ways in to look around to remember what the grape soda tasted like a summer camp. I can smell the chlorine in the pool at my grandpa’s condo, my always hungry stomach and the taste of veal cutlet, carrots, and mashed potatoes.

I remember my sister staying with me. Suzanne and I were separated. She left for a booty call, spending half the day in the shower first. When she went home, I cleaned the bathroom. It looked like she shaved a cat in there, and I remember laughing while I scrubbed the tub down.

My grandmother took us to circus. My cousin and I told my grandmother that the elephants had buts that looked just liker her’s. She was pissed and yelled at us. My cousin was a bit of a bad influence.

Sometimes I walk through their houses. Houses arranged in a way that can only come from being comfortable in the same place for decades. I see their things in their places.

I have some of their stuff, but nothing they owned keeps their magic.

I’ve grown old enough to see the past in a kind of still life. The  houses are gone, the people I thought were timeless have passed.

It all goes way too fast when you are standing still.

Mirrored from Theater of JP's Mind.

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Monday, March 30th, 2015 01:56 am

So I deactivated my Fetlife account. If you are reading this; and you are not my girlfriend or a bot, you probably didn’t know I had one. Yeah JP is a closet freak, don’t tell my mom.

When I was married, I had this idealized view of everyone else’s sex life. I imagined you all looked awesome naked and frolicked like little sex fairies. Everyone else was having a good time but me.

Fetlife was where the cool kids hanged out, those open minded, sexually free people that have all the fun.

When my girl and I got together, we both got Fetlife accounts. I thought, “Oh my god. I am finally with the cool kids.”

I forgot that cool kids are assholes.

She is immensely popular. There are dudes and even a few women messaging her every day. She could post a picture of her toe, and there will be fifty people sending her messages begging to suck it.

I am less popular than old chewing gum, only I don’t even get to stick to your shoe.

There  is something far too old and far to conservative about me. I’m soft about the middle, thinning up top, and from an age where a man was a man. He wasn’t a cis man, a post op man, or a pre-op man. Men didn’t buy a shit ton of hair products either. We washed with whatever crap there was in the bathroom, and we didn’t smell like flowers and oatmeal.

Our fathers fought in Vietnam. They went to work, supported families, married, and maybe even stayed married.

Men my age are divorced, work uncertain jobs, and lead a kind of disillusioned existence, now that the life our role models lived no longer exists

I’ve adapted pretty well in some ways. I like that the gays are getting married, although I am not sure why. I can use some tech, and I even waste a lot of time on them.

But

I have no idea how  pintrest works, and everyone hates me on Fetlife.

But

I can only complain so much. I have the best sex life any man could ask for. My girl is fun and wonderful, and it doesn’t seem to bother her that I am not one of the cool kids.

Mirrored from Theater of JP's Mind.

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Monday, March 16th, 2015 07:28 pm

How long do I have to practice guitar before I can become a pretentious asshole? How long before I can develop a cocaine addition? How long before I can play the g chord and d chord without this embarrassing pause in between?

I like to sit at home and serenade my cats with the gentle plucking of my dad’s old Brazilian guitar. I have been practicing for a while now, playing classical guitar exercises from a long dead Mr. Frederick Noad. It sounds nice enough, but I would love play something someone has heard of instead of exercise 27. I want to learn to play acoustical versions of Chumba Wumba to widen the cat’s musical tastes.

I also like to study the universe lately. Sitting on my bed, I can hold my Ipad in one hand and keep the boys from fighting with the other. The universe appears to be a massive, pointless, exercise in things. This makes me happy; because when bad things happen to me, I know it’s nothing personal.

I spend most afternoons with my girl doing things, money things, lovey things, cleany things.

It’s a life made up of infinite slices of instances, little experiences all holding hands. It’s a good life and I am glad she is with me for this leg of it.

I’ve been writing again, working on a comic book script, looking at stories., creating a wordpress blog. Maybe I will be famous some day. Maybe, but lately I feel that I am at maximum social capacity.

Every time I talk to my dad and I tell him that I am going out for the evening, he says “You have friends?”. He says this because in my other life with my ex-wife, I had no friends. We didn’t even have fake ones. The ex-wife hated people. I hate people too, but love them as individuals. This creates the odd dichotomy, where I beg for the gamma ray burst to wipe out humanity and worry about my friends at the same time. I am such an extreme introvert that it sometimes feels like I am driving an aging JP bot around my life.

Introverts need alone time to recharge our social points,unlike the extroverts of the world, My girl keeps me from isolating myself, which is a good thing. Still, when the night is quiet and it’s just me inside my head, there can be a certain terrifying sense of peace. It’s weird how that works.

Mirrored from Theater of JP's Mind.

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