2.22.99
Its fuq'd. The entries previous to this one are in cyber heaven.
I want all of you to go offline, and back up your computers, and I want you to do it NOW!!!
What went wrong? I assume that I gave the wrong file the wrong name, and that's what happened. I do have a couple of ugly notes that I can use to reconstruct the pages that have evaporated, but I don't think I will. Maybe this is some kind of karma thing that is trying to tell me that what I wrote shouldn't have been there. Perhaps the words and thoughts about Christian were too close to my heart. Maybe the doubts that I had about RR and my relationship, or the ghost of John Ehrlichman secretly attacked and guided my fingers to subconsciously replace "journal6.html" with "journalindex.html"
Who am I to argue with the "Omniomni?"
I'll write a synopsis of the pervious events later, and will discuss my newest little friend at another moment in time. I'm too tired right now, and my head aches from staring at the screen for endless hours.
Check back in an hour or so. This kid is taking a nap.
"Ask not for whom the bell tolls...it tolls for thee."
Later, that afternoon....
A shift in fonts (Tahoma..always been a fave of mine, but onscreen, it is junque) I have thought about what I ought to do to remedy this "situation" that I have, and there seems to be one logical solution to the dilemma.
As Mr. Beckett did in his masterpiece of literature, Mercier et Camier, I shall take the events of the previous two chapters, paraphrase them, and vomit them upon a platter for your pleasure. The source for this comes off hard copies of the journal. My confidence in things electronic never has been high. Paper, and the werdz written upon it, on the other hand, is eternal. Without further adieu,
SUMMARY OF THE ENTRIES
15-21 February 1999
(Paraphrased to INXS...play it LOUD)
It all started on Monday, the fifteenth day of the second month in this year of grace 1999.
I got really pissed off at HomeSite4, and that chunk of software's inability to perform the most mundane tasks without my having to assume bizarre postures.
I lost a friend who was too critical of these pages, and who offered inappropriate and unsolicited advice regarding my relationships with IRT people.
Introduction of the word phuck to the spell checker.
Eats a yummy croque monsieur
Discussion of the ritualistic sex therapist from San Francisco, the 6'7", inked, pierced, and dreadlocked gentleman in every sense of the word.
Dedicated that morning's semen to the sun, mussed my red pajamas.
Definition of vanilla sex, and how extraordinary my sexual encounters really are.
Realization that vanilla sex and Rachmaninoff are two totally different things.
Smile and evol grin at the same time....
Christian and I having supper. My tension and poor behaviour.
The last time you will see the name Quentin referred to in these pages.
Missing the yummy Garlic rolls.
Asking "Why do you put up with this shit?"
Hearing "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"The" questions. The answers.
The "if" game.
Why I consider Christian to be prime husband material, and the reason I want to know him better.
"Slowly twisting, twisting in the wind." Death of John Ehrlichman.
"Whaddya mean you don't know who John Ehrlichman was?"
The senior citizen lectures
My collection of pajamas; the larger collection of nightshirts
The pain of calisthenics; subsequent return to Hatha Yoga.
The Filipino boy on the bus.
The boy rubs his dick
The Shtupman looks in interest.
The discussion of average penis size (which was corrected by Christian later, I might add.)
The Filipino boy crosses the line.
Kaahumanu Cemetery, the cement cross with my name on it.
ICQ message from Robb "Hey man, Your journal6.html page is fuqued"
That brings us to right here, right now. You've just inhaled close to twenty printed pages of stuff. INXS is pau, and I've moved on to the rhythmic sway of ABBA. We'll have a proper journal entry now....
I mentioned earlier that I had a new buddy. Yuppers, this one is from Washington, along the beautiful Peuget Sound just north of Seattle. Smelly little town says he. This young man had his lunch and promptly returned said meal to the soil from whence it came. He had a "kick ass" weekend, he told me.
It seems after a week of wringing his hands and worrying about how to do it, he came out to his best friend in school, on whom he has a huuge crush. That went so well, he told 5 more people, including the Homecoming Queen of his orientation.
Not too bad for a seventeen year old high school student. Not too fucking bad. J
I applauded his story of bravery and bravado, and immediately started thinking about my other high-school age buddy, James, and thought, "How wonderful it would be for these two young men to meet and exchange war stories." About that time, I heard the familiar "uh-oh" of the ICQ telling me that James had sent a message.
Karma works...I'm telling you. Let the universe take over all the big details.
"Don't go wasting your emotions...lay all your love on me." Dontcha just love ABBA? "Don't go sharing your devotions, lay all your love on me." Don't mind me while I sit in the corner and sing. Beats the hell out of cleaning off my desk.
Back to matters at hand...James, Arion, and I sat and recounted the events that had shaped his weekend and made it such a kick ass experience. I remember the first person that I told that I was gay. It was Julie, way back in High School. I was probably about 16 or so at the time, and the event occurred in the middle of a field of soybeans east of town. She wasn't surprised...I always have been a rather flamboyant person. The fact that I was in drama, choir, AND debate shouldn't and couldn't have surprised many people at all. There was also the Girl's Club incident with my friend Greg that shocked and appalled many of the grey-suited people in my hometown. (Oh, that. We felt that Girl's Club was discriminatory by its nature, so since there was no prohibition against males joining Girl's Club, we did. It was promptly renamed "Student's Club." My nickname to several people in the school after that was "faggot.")
That's enough of that. That, dear ones, is why I didn't go to work today. RR comes home tomorrow night. I've missed him terribly, in case I didn't mention it previously.
A last comment. My friend James just came out to his mother. I'm very proud of him...it's a big step in his life.
I want all of you to go offline, and back up your computers, and I want you to do it NOW!!!
What went wrong? I assume that I gave the wrong file the wrong name, and that's what happened. I do have a couple of ugly notes that I can use to reconstruct the pages that have evaporated, but I don't think I will. Maybe this is some kind of karma thing that is trying to tell me that what I wrote shouldn't have been there. Perhaps the words and thoughts about Christian were too close to my heart. Maybe the doubts that I had about RR and my relationship, or the ghost of John Ehrlichman secretly attacked and guided my fingers to subconsciously replace "journal6.html" with "journalindex.html"
Who am I to argue with the "Omniomni?"
I'll write a synopsis of the pervious events later, and will discuss my newest little friend at another moment in time. I'm too tired right now, and my head aches from staring at the screen for endless hours.
Check back in an hour or so. This kid is taking a nap.
"Ask not for whom the bell tolls...it tolls for thee."
Later, that afternoon....
A shift in fonts (Tahoma..always been a fave of mine, but onscreen, it is junque) I have thought about what I ought to do to remedy this "situation" that I have, and there seems to be one logical solution to the dilemma.
As Mr. Beckett did in his masterpiece of literature, Mercier et Camier, I shall take the events of the previous two chapters, paraphrase them, and vomit them upon a platter for your pleasure. The source for this comes off hard copies of the journal. My confidence in things electronic never has been high. Paper, and the werdz written upon it, on the other hand, is eternal. Without further adieu,
SUMMARY OF THE ENTRIES
15-21 February 1999
(Paraphrased to INXS...play it LOUD)
It all started on Monday, the fifteenth day of the second month in this year of grace 1999.
I got really pissed off at HomeSite4, and that chunk of software's inability to perform the most mundane tasks without my having to assume bizarre postures.
I lost a friend who was too critical of these pages, and who offered inappropriate and unsolicited advice regarding my relationships with IRT people.
Introduction of the word phuck to the spell checker.
Eats a yummy croque monsieur
Discussion of the ritualistic sex therapist from San Francisco, the 6'7", inked, pierced, and dreadlocked gentleman in every sense of the word.
Dedicated that morning's semen to the sun, mussed my red pajamas.
Definition of vanilla sex, and how extraordinary my sexual encounters really are.
Realization that vanilla sex and Rachmaninoff are two totally different things.
Smile and evol grin at the same time....
Christian and I having supper. My tension and poor behaviour.
The last time you will see the name Quentin referred to in these pages.
Missing the yummy Garlic rolls.
Asking "Why do you put up with this shit?"
Hearing "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"The" questions. The answers.
The "if" game.
Why I consider Christian to be prime husband material, and the reason I want to know him better.
"Slowly twisting, twisting in the wind." Death of John Ehrlichman.
"Whaddya mean you don't know who John Ehrlichman was?"
The senior citizen lectures
My collection of pajamas; the larger collection of nightshirts
The pain of calisthenics; subsequent return to Hatha Yoga.
The Filipino boy on the bus.
The boy rubs his dick
The Shtupman looks in interest.
The discussion of average penis size (which was corrected by Christian later, I might add.)
The Filipino boy crosses the line.
Kaahumanu Cemetery, the cement cross with my name on it.
ICQ message from Robb "Hey man, Your journal6.html page is fuqued"
That brings us to right here, right now. You've just inhaled close to twenty printed pages of stuff. INXS is pau, and I've moved on to the rhythmic sway of ABBA. We'll have a proper journal entry now....
I mentioned earlier that I had a new buddy. Yuppers, this one is from Washington, along the beautiful Peuget Sound just north of Seattle. Smelly little town says he. This young man had his lunch and promptly returned said meal to the soil from whence it came. He had a "kick ass" weekend, he told me.
It seems after a week of wringing his hands and worrying about how to do it, he came out to his best friend in school, on whom he has a huuge crush. That went so well, he told 5 more people, including the Homecoming Queen of his orientation.
Not too bad for a seventeen year old high school student. Not too fucking bad. J
I applauded his story of bravery and bravado, and immediately started thinking about my other high-school age buddy, James, and thought, "How wonderful it would be for these two young men to meet and exchange war stories." About that time, I heard the familiar "uh-oh" of the ICQ telling me that James had sent a message.
Karma works...I'm telling you. Let the universe take over all the big details.
"Don't go wasting your emotions...lay all your love on me." Dontcha just love ABBA? "Don't go sharing your devotions, lay all your love on me." Don't mind me while I sit in the corner and sing. Beats the hell out of cleaning off my desk.
Back to matters at hand...James, Arion, and I sat and recounted the events that had shaped his weekend and made it such a kick ass experience. I remember the first person that I told that I was gay. It was Julie, way back in High School. I was probably about 16 or so at the time, and the event occurred in the middle of a field of soybeans east of town. She wasn't surprised...I always have been a rather flamboyant person. The fact that I was in drama, choir, AND debate shouldn't and couldn't have surprised many people at all. There was also the Girl's Club incident with my friend Greg that shocked and appalled many of the grey-suited people in my hometown. (Oh, that. We felt that Girl's Club was discriminatory by its nature, so since there was no prohibition against males joining Girl's Club, we did. It was promptly renamed "Student's Club." My nickname to several people in the school after that was "faggot.")
That's enough of that. That, dear ones, is why I didn't go to work today. RR comes home tomorrow night. I've missed him terribly, in case I didn't mention it previously.
A last comment. My friend James just came out to his mother. I'm very proud of him...it's a big step in his life.
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