This is the ongoing memoir of my ridiculous life...
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Sunday, April 17, 2011
"I'm not telling you to make the world better, because I don't think that progress is necessarily part of the package. I'm just telling you to live in it. Not just endure it, not just suffer it, not just pass through it, but to live in it. To look at it. To try to get the picture. To live recklessly. To take chances. To make your work and take pride in it. To seize the moment. And if should ask me why you should bother to do that, I could tell you that the grave's a fine and private place, but none I think do there embrace. Nor do they sing there, or write, or argue, or see the tidal bore on the Amazon, or touch their children. And that's what there is to do and get it while you can and good luck at it"
So here I am sitting at my favourite coffee shop (Bridgehead); and while reading my last planned book before my travels in June, I can't help but keep losing my place and constantly needing to read and re-read (and sometime RE-read) paragraphs and sometimes whole pages. All this definitely slows down my progress in the book and I can really only lay the blame on one thing. Call it what you want: eavesdropping, spying, bending an ear, snooping, listening-in, or overhearing - I love it! I've always been fascinated in the lives and day-to-day lives of others: Whether it's a heated discussion or a business lunch or a date, I'm interested. Sometimes it's so bad that I'm so enthralled in the conversation that I forget I'm not actually a part of it and it's not totally uncommon for me to be just watching the conversation instead of even attempting at being discreet. I'm a people-watcher and a eavesdropper, and I love it! Watching the interactions of others, their body language their facial expressions and tonality in their voice, all the way to the topics of their conversations. Sometimes, if the conversation is a topic I am very familiar with, it takes everything I have to refrain from chirping into the conversation to correct or add to it. lol.
So ya, here I am with the good intentions of getting my free green tea - thanks to my trusty punch card - and reading my Nelson Mandela autobiography when all I keep doing in listening to this couple at my 1 o'clock (approximately 10 feet away) having a lovers quarrel, discussing their issues with the relationship, over what appears to be a chai latte for her and a medium roast coffee and cookie for him. See it's bad! I know WAY too much about this couple that I technically haven't met, but have "known" for an hour. Even though I know the status of their relationship (just waiting to find out how long they've been together; although if I had to guess it would be for just under a year), I even know her job and what parts of it she finds difficult and the fact that this extremely attractive guy of hers has shown her little sympathy on that front. Ok, some people may have caught on to that last part....so I MAY have started this whole spying on their convo as a byproduct of sneaking glances at him with the grey v-neck with no intentions of actually listening to their heart-to-heart. (For the record....I think he may be onto my snooping/staring hahaha. But don't be fooled....attraction isn't the only thing that grabs me to eavesdrop - it's just a great start! I know that the girl (Katie) at the tables beside me is in an Intro to Philosophy course at university and is having a hard time with grasping Kant's theories and as a result is distracting herself with music, chatting with friends, and MySpace (who even uses that anymore?!). Then there's the guys in the corner by the window (my favourite seat in here but it was already taken by them). They're a group of 5 guys who all live in the area and are catching up on daily life things and about upcoming gay events in the area and trying to coordinate who's going to what and with who.
And all this spying I'm doing (although spying sounds so negative and.....almost illegal) is going on while still, as slow as it's going, I'm reading my book. It's a skill I'm kinda proud of. lol. While in Dominican Republic just last month with my friend, I knew everything about everyone on the beach/at the resort and still managed to read two books while scoping everyone out.
Side-note: just witnessed some guy pummelling another guy RIGHT outside the coffee shop and slamming his head against the glass - created a bit of commotion. Nobody was bleeding, barfing, or brain damaged, so I just sat tight and let the 13 other people rush outside to assess.
I've always been curious where the term "eavesdropping" came from. According to Black's Law Dictionary, "eavesdropping is the act of secretly listening to the private conversation of others without their consent. This is commonly thought to be unethical." The term is apparently from people listening in through a window (under the eaves) to conversations being had inside. Now these are two completely different things.....overhearing conversations going on all around me while in public vs me sitting outside someone's bedroom window listening to a couple discussing financial issues in the privacy of their own home. So now is eavesdropping still considered unethical if I'm overhearing a private conversation in public? And is it really a private conversation at all if I can hear it while sitting at my spot?
Not that I plan to stop anytime soon because it really fascinates me to see and hear what make people tick. In fact, I wish I had better hearing so I could listen-in even easier. lol. But I wonder if I'm considered unmoral or whatever all because people choose to have their conversations where others can overhear them.
And for the record....the couple fixed their issues before they left the coffee shop ;)
"Babe sorry for trying to fist you last night": That is the text message my good friend received from her boyfriend the other day. The conversation began with my friend asking for my opinions on fisting.
"Fisting (sometimes called handballing) is a sexual activity that involves inserting a hand into the vagina or rectum. Once insertion is complete, the fingers either naturally clench into a fist or remain straight. In more vigorous forms of fisting, such as "punching", a fully clenched fist may be inserted and withdrawn slowly. Fisting may be performed with or without a partner" (Wikipedia).
I said "it scares me and I think it can easily do serious and permanent damage. It's one of the few sexual acts I would never attempt". I feel as though I should continue by following this up by saying that my aversion to personally participating in this sexual fetish does in no way mean that I think others should or shouldn't do it; rather that if they are interested, they should do the necessary research into how to perform it as safely as possible.
[Anal fisting can cause rectal perforation which requires emergency surgery and can lead to infection and possibly death. To perform fisting as safely as possible, it should be performed with the "fister" wearing a latex (or like) glove and by using appropriate lube and by having an established safe word.]
Since fisting can be seen as a pretty risqué thing - and often viewed as a taboo subject even amongst the most sexual-minded of folk; I was curious how one brings up wanting to fist someone. I consider myself a very liberal guy, and I was a sexual health educator for 3 years as well as work with people who've been (or are) in the sex trade. Yet somehow, this is one of the topics I wondered how it was discussed in a sexual way (since I'm more than aware of how to discuss fisting in a sexual health sense). I mean, it's not like "slipping" into the wrong hole while going at it hard; because a fist - especially a large handed male fist - won't "slip" into an unsuspecting vagina or anus without a LOUD scream and the recipient being left with no sphincter action anymore resulting in needing a lifetime supply of pads to absorb all drainage that will fall out. So is this a discussion usually done prior to sex just like while "shooting the shit" (dunno if that's even a pun), or is it something that is discussed in the heat of the moment while doing the dirty (that pun was intended lol). This was my friend's response to my question of how her situation arouse....
My friend: Moaning while in the throws of ecstasy while being fingered. Her lover: "You know I bet if we tried I could fit my whole hand in there". My friend: No longer moaning but rather concerned - "WTF?!" Her lover: "Oh don't be such a baby". My friend: "Let me fist your asshole and you can fist my vag". Her lover: "Not going to happen" My friend: "Exactly!" Vag now dryer than the Sahara and no longer even slightly turned on
That's how it went down for my friend, but that's not necessarily how it would go down for most people lol. It could've had a completely different outcome had the "WTF" changed to a "Ok let's try and make me your marionette!" hahaha. Or as my other friend said today while we were driving talking about fisting: "If he's fucking you hardcore and then slips out and punches you.....I don't know if you'd notice". Hahahaha.
I'm REALLY not trying to make fisting seem like some horrible sex act that shouldn't be done or anything, because I totally think if it works for you...work it! Whatever gets you and your partner off....all the power to ya - even if it's punching power! I would just hope that while fisting or attempting fisting (just as I hope for all sexual activities) that people know the risks and benefits and are doing everything they can to be as safe as possible. And just cause fisting isn't for me (or my friend at the moment), doesn't mean that you shouldn't try your hand at it (man these fisting puns are so much fun!)
I think it's finally here ladies and gents.....SPRING! After being jerked around constantly by Mother Nature - with it being nice and sunny, then get shit on with snow - I think I going to risk the jinx and say it.......spring is here!
I love that the sun is out more often than not now and that the days are getting longer. I can now go to work my night shifts when it's dusk and be leaving work to come back home after my 12 hour shifts and the sun is rising for dawn; as opposed to darkness ALL THE TIME!
The only thing I don't like about spring is the melting of everything resulting in everything being dirty and muddy. As much as I need to OD on antihistamines with all the newly pollen-releasing flowers - I still love spring even if I have to see it through watery, itchy, swollen eyes :P
Spring is going to be something I will miss next year when I'm living in Australia. Although, I feel as though I can cope without spring if I just focus on the beaches and oceans and tans and accents and hot weather and sexy Aussies and the foreign exotic-ness of being in Australia over being in Canada.
I can't wait till my first patio beer of the season (which will probably be this week since I'm off tuesday till sunday. So who's available? lol).
I'm looking forward to making the most of this final spring before my departure from North America for an undetermined amount of time. So come on Mother Nature, let's make it a good one.....preferably with less allergies and rain ;)
Boy, am I beat. And it's not like I have some crazy life where I'm working three jobs and going to night school. No, I just have one job and a small apartment. I don't even have a pet to look after. Even so, it seems that no matter what I do, there's always more. If they put another eight hours in the day, I might be able to catch up on the laundry list of chores I have, or even just my laundry, if I were lucky. But you know who really gets it done? Homosexuals.
I know what you're saying: Brandon, you're just perpetuating the stereotype that homosexuals are superhuman. That is totally not true. All I'm saying is, with their boundless energy and talents, they make us straight guys look bad.
Just look at the way they dress. They must get up bright and early just to figure out how to match their homosexual outfits. They do this, plus take the time to have a nice, hot morning bath. And they eat, too. Homosexuals know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. By 8 a.m., they are out the door, fully rested and raring to go.
For me, just shopping for a new pair of shoes is exhausting. I try on maybe one or two new pairs, and I'm ready to call it a day. But a homosexual can sit for hours in Barney's tirelessly trying on dozens of pairs, and when he finds the one he wants, why, he's ready to wear those shoes out to a homosexual club and dance all night. What vim!
And that's another thing: Even after partying all night, homosexuals must have to work a lot in order to earn enough money for their active lifestyles. After all, meals at the trendiest restaurants in town don't grow on trees. So they go to their jobs as designers and lawyers and architects and work hard to afford all these things. Their busy minds are always whirring, whirring, whirring.
They're no slouches at home, either—they always have to be fixing something. Homosexuals are the first ones to go into a bad neighborhood, buy a beautiful old building, restore it to its former grandeur, and then wait until a coffee shop opens on the block. Or they open one themselves! Do you understand? They don't even have a coffee shop when they move into the neighborhood. I can't get anything done without a cup of good coffee.
And do you know what they do after restoring a building? To the gym! They pump iron and play racquetball like they were tying their shoes. It's nothing to them. Or they go jogging in an urban riverside park and take their dogs with them. And as they do these things, they effortlessly carry on the most sparkling conversations filled with witty bon mots and juicy innuendo. That physical activity frees up their minds and gives them ideas for their next play or painting. Imagine being able to run six miles a day and make indelible contributions to the arts and letters of our country. Phew! I get tired just thinking about it!
And don't remind me about those gallery openings. After a hard day of work, I was barely able to drag my ass down to the last one. I told myself, I'm not doing this again anytime soon! But it would never occur to homosexuals to think those things. The moment I walked in, there they were, dressed impeccably and criticizing the choice of wine. They'd even prepared these fantastic hors d'oeuvres trays. Ever heard of jicama? Well, if you're homosexual, you have. It's a very tasty vegetable and, though exotic, an ideal choice for a light appetizer. Naturally!
So I ask, where do they get all their energy? Is it from all that meth? I've heard it's an epidemic in the homosexual community, and it may explain how they can charge through their day. But that doesn't seem like the whole explanation. Perhaps it's the centuries of persecution that's kept them on their toes. Or maybe homosexual sex is simply more invigorating and satisfying. Or could it be that their quest to be perfect is a way to compensate for their families' shame? It's a mystery to me! But whatever it is, it sure seems to be working.