Ready, Reset, Go! (2006-2008)

Any suggestions?

(Def: bricked)

(Apologies to Xbox owners for the terror-pic.
Being a new Xbox owner myself, I sympathize with the fear of red.)

I thought this a fitting time to revisit something I put up last year. In it, I mentioned that I'd had the good fortune to actually meet quite a few bloggers out there, in person. Some of them, I've even become quite friendly with and will come visit from time to time.

In fact, just last weekend, two of them (Kalvin and JR) came to Provincetown when I decided to visit there myself. And I'm really happy that, by this unusual mode of meeting, I've actually met people about whom I never would have even known if this was 20 years ago.

I should have expected this, but many folks took the post to be some sort of "Hey-ay, I have a hella lotta friends! Whoo-hoo!"

But, no.

If you'll notice, I never mentioned why I was writing about it. I was being cautious.

Well, it's because of repeated events like what's just bubbled up at Joe.My.God:

Remember Cooper [atari's ed: NOT Cooper Lowenthal, btw]? The firefighter gay dad of two adopted boys who pulled his widely-loved blog after an "attack" of malicious comments and emails from the readers of this blog? Causing me to get extremely bent of out shape and offer Cooper a heartfelt (really) public apology? Over the last few days our little blogosphere has retched forth some unpleasant, uncomfortable revelations about Cooper.

The short version:
He is not a firefighter.
He is not an adoptive father.
He is not gay.
He is not, in fact, a he.

Read more there. Then read about it from the original figure-it-out-er, Father Tony.

Well, I'd personally been through at least three versions of this type of thing in the past 2.5 years. Some were bloggers, others only by email, but the bottom line was people not being who they said they were.

So startling were the first times, due to my stunning naivete, that I have since then never fully trusted the existence of anyone until I'd at least met them.


And it occurred to me that I had read something previously which addressed this issue very clearly.

I actually got the idea from a recent scifi book that takes place only 20 or so years from now. The world is different than now, but much is inherently similar to the internet and chats, IMs, etc...

This comment happens when a group of known net "chatters" get suspicious about a new anonymous chatter that gives completely unconfirmed identity.


Chain of Trust. It's real simple, but solid.

You vouch for someone who vouches for another person who vouches for another, etc etc.

The further away from a person for which you personally can vouch, the less certain you are they are legit. A person completely separate from the chain is inherently a risk for trust.

And, in reality, it's not a chain - it's a web.

(BTW, this is going to become very important in the business world and beyond, I'll bet.)

Back then, I first came up with a list of the bloggers that I had actually met in person up until September 2007 - I need to dig out the list and update it sometime soon.


Then, purely as an inquiry because I was kinda fascinated by webs, I suppose, I asked some other if they didn't mind sharing a list of bloggers they've actually met in person as well. I also said I'd keep it anonymous if desired.

I didn't pursue it long, but I'd gotten 7 others to respond and got this (with all names stripped out).


The eight light blue nodes are me and the seven other bloggers (all of whom I knew) who responded to me. The lines connect any of those nodes to individual bloggers whom they have met.

What I called it in my post last year was a "Web of Contact". Which is accurate, as I'm basing this initial form of trust on actual real-life contact.

But what it amounts to is a "Web of Trust".

I kinda feel it's going to come to this for any sense of security in bloggerville.

And when I say "security", I mean some sense that the person to whom you may be investing some emotional investment, the person whom you may be offering words or long emails or phone calls of comfort for some hard time they may have fallen upon, is in fact who they say they are. Or at least are having the problems they say they are.

Because people don't like wasting their emotions on phantoms.


Any other ideas out there?

Y'all can see my posting has gotten non-existent.

Sorry.

One of those limbo-times again, I think. Nothing bad at all. Just... unclear.


I have a practical question for any and all. The question is at the end with a BOLD heading.

Anyone offering any advice would be really, really appreciated.

Sadly, once again, it's not a "gay" question, so it might not interest anyone...



A little while back, a friend of mine mentioned that I should actually talk through my "concepts of science" thingies, as opposed to writing.

Why I want to do it is simple. It's frustrating to see that most of the country doesn't even understand how science works - not the details, the crazy words, the convoluted concepts... just the basic approach.

That's sad, because many of you out there are doing bits of scientific approaches yourself and you don't even know it.

And it's this approach that has made everything you and I take for granted in this modern world possible. And it is most likely responsible for many of us being alive.

And, most importantly, the basic concept of how science is done is really very, very simple.

Doing it a lot and doing it well can sometimes be harder.

The details of a particular exploration may be quite bizarre and hard for most of us to even get a tiny grasp.

But understanding the basic approach...easy.


Unfortunately, at this point, I think it's the only way I can get these thoughts out of my head.

That is, I seem to have lost a lot of motivation to write... anything, really.

And unlike maybe a quick catty commentary on some gay gossip du jour (which I obviously don't do much, unfortunately), writing some sort of meditation on a concept gets very little reinforcement by others out there - no, questions that arise, no arguments, no corrections or commentary, no dialog.

And, as I have mentioned before, that's pretty much a death sentence for wanting to write again.

OTOH, if I was writing on demand, for a book or as a job, that would initially be a good stimulus to keep on trucking. If I had a deadline or real expectation that I will keep on writing, I'd get right on it. But it's just a thing on the side, right?


My friend's suggestion - to record my thoughts in voice rather than in writing - might be easier. These days, a lot of my thoughts on these topics are constantly being formed - as whole fracking essays, paragraphs and all - in my head. I just want to get it O-U-T in some form. I can edit or revise after that.

I have another issue to deal with, too.

Imagine this thought: If I suddenly die (knock wood that I won't) all my wonderful, amazing and clarifying words (sarcasm) will go with me.

And when I think of *that*, I realize how silly it all is. Of course, I tell myself, I have absolutely nothing useful to say. Your aspirations to help explain things to others is a complete joke.

And then I lose all motivation... like, Why bother?


On the other hand, if I at least start, I'll likely finish even if I'm not sure anyone will care. And then at least it's done, for good or for bad.


But even there, trying to talk into a microphone, I just am not STARTING, since it's not a normal behavior for me (voice recording).

It's kinda frustrating - maybe I just need a dedicated time where I'm just going to START.

Alternatively, perhaps recording an actual conversation - with other people - might be the only way to get this out of me.

I am really alone in this and haven't figured out the button to press yet.


SO, MY QUESTION: Do any of you have a few ideas of how to stimulate oneself for a non-work thing like this? I just want to make it happen...

one day, I'd even love to hone this into a craft from which I could actually make a tiny living - ie, science writing, etc. Perhaps some advice would give me a starting point.

Go. Watch all three webisodes of "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" - the complete saga!

It won't take that long, I promise.

It's totally worth it.

It's done by Joss Whedon.

The music is really good, I think.

Neil Patrick Harris is in it. No he's not gay in it. Yes, he has a very, very good singing voice.

Nathan Fillion is in it. He was in the sci-fi show, Firefly, which I never saw but I hear was great.

Actually, he's yet another example of how every gay man on Earth should be watching lots of sci-fi.

Case in point:
Nice ass! I approve.

That's from an actual Firefly episode, by the way.


Do you believe in Science Fiction now????



Oh, you want to see what something other than his ass looks like? OK, that works, too:

OK, ok, as for the confirmed gay dude, Neil, he's looking pretty good these days, too:


(All pictures from Superherofan.net. The fucking best site for men in TV/film.)

Anyways, go watch the musical while it's still free. It's great. No one's naked in it, sadly, but oh well.

Oh man, I thought I had a rough day on Sunday.

Short story, yes, I had fun Saturday night meeting TJ and his bf and his friend. We had dinner and then went out for drinks. But then my mind is muddled because I ended up - by the late evening feeling kinda not right. Fatigue is the right word, but it doesn't create the intensity. I was literally about to shut down. And no, it wasn't the booze or whatnot. I was actually fine on that score.

Perhaps it was TJ's personality. How can someone so sweet voiced imply such, um, fun? (More later...?)

No, in fact, this has happened before to me. It's been happening every few months or so since last August and it always happens out of the blue. I mention a similar time in this post. I still don't understand it, physically.

Anyways, I went back to my room and immediately fell asleep and slept for 5 hours during the day. I'm recovered somewhat quickly the next day. Unfortunately I had to now go for the work portion of the trip and that made me drag ass for the whole time.

Though I hardly had a bad day in comparison to my coworkers.

OMG. I can't find a goddam mention of this in the news, but I'm here to tell you that people around the country, including fellow workmates from east, west, north, and south in the US, were trapped in planes sitting in fields going nowhere for 3 hours, 4, 5.... No one could explain why.

I mean, fuck that. Let people fucking OUT so they can have a drink or something.

Outfuckingrageous.

See all those red dots? Those are all the major airports at 11pm Sunday night. The dots should be green. Red means horrific taxi-ing delays, including (so I'm hearing directly) people trapped in airplanes for over 4 hours and THEN they lifted off.


How much you wanna bet no one was given so much as a peanut? In some cases, they weren't even allowed to go to the fucking bathroom even though they were NOT flying yet. I would have peed on the seat in protest. Serves them right.

FUCK them. I mean seriously, fuck that bullshit. Who are these airlines to treat their paying customers like dogshit?


I dunno, it doesn't seem worth paying for a flight.

Why would I pay extra for a checked bag on such a flight.

Anyway, this confirms my newfound desire to never fly again.


It also teaches me that I didn't really have that bad a day on Sunday... in comparison.

I'll be zipping through DC on Saturday night. Actually I'll be in the general area for a few days after that but not for fun.

I was hoping to meet a couple of blogger for the first time. Sadly, I won't be getting to meet Jimbo, as a pretty bad situation happened just a few days ago. I hope he's doing ok and hopefully we'll meet up some other time.

Without Jimbo, I wondered aloud to TJ whether it was "problematic that I'd suggested meeting for drinks where one of us doesn't drink and the other is a low-tolerance lush (me)."

TJ seemed to think it would be fine, if not, in fact, highly amusing - so there you go!



You know what though - I really wish I didn't have to fly *anywhere*. It just sounds utterly unpleasant and filled with angry commuters getting charged up the wazoo for every pound of baggage and - soon - for every pound they weigh.

Probably not a surprise that people are gonna "boo!" airlines for crappy service after all that? (Though it's not very wise, as that booing caused the crew to cancel the flight. Jebus!)

Hmmm... probably shouldn't talk like that when I'm about to travel, right?


In fact, just in case, I'll offer to any of the gay flight attendants that, should there be any booing going on, I'll be extra extra nice in private if you let us get where we're trying to go.

Deal? =D

I think an old post really pissed off some guy in Wichita, Kansas.

In response to a post from May 18, 2008, in which a rail on and on about Amtrak - an admittedly ranty over-the-top post - I just received new comment!!!

Anonymous says: 12:07 AM

take a big fat dick and suck it like you know you fucking bitch.

Um... like I've never thought of that before?
Seriously, I'm not sure if it was an attempt at an insult or a proposition.

Well, it *is* a good example of Penny Arcade's Internet Fuckwad Theory.



I'm not sure what normal gay sex has to do with Amtrak, of course.

Maybe he's just trying to increase my google hits by forcing more sex talk on this blog.


If so: Thank ya kindly, Wichita Guy!

OMG.

I've always loved Joe Cocker's version of "With a Little Help From My Friends," I guess since the Wonder Years.

His singing seemed to harken back to a time I never saw, but I'd always wished I had experienced, at least for a day.

On the other hand, looking at it now, it seems that the main "fun" about that time is that people were just completely fucked up. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I suppose...


(Closed captioned for the clear-headed)


And I always thought Cocker was just singing the same words Ringo Starr sang. Well, now, thanks to this video, we can see his interpretation is more revolutionary than previously thought. Cool!

(h/t Famous Mark Verheidens, of the gods of Galactica)

Monday Update: I should clarify. I was in Provincetown this weekend, and I'm kinda exhausted after that. I posted this post on Sunday morning, after 3 nights there and, as I'm want to get when people start leaving and I'm kinda worn out, I get a bit misty.

Also, it was pointed out at some moment that I haven't really been describing anything at all lately. Hence, the beginning of the original post, which starts below.

Plus, I added some pictures
...


As agreed at some point yesterday, and as is my habit lately, herein is enclosed my report re: this past weekend:

Nothing Happened

The end

I really have to work on restoring my exposition skills.

Adding to this problem is that I think, at least in Provincetown, there's some environmental thing in the air, because I keep waking up with a headache, a big hole in my bank account, and little memory of the night before.

Which makes it hard to recount anything anyway.

I do remember people being tied up and that I had monster hiccups.

Not much of a story though.


Also, kept thinking it would be nice if I had my ex (not as an ex, though), or someone like him, to share the time with, because Provincetown can be more fun that way. I don't know where that came from. Probably a bottle.

On the other hand, there's some folks who think P-town is more fun without a partner. Hmmm... grass is always greener.

Anyways, OK, I lied. Stuff happened. I'm just becoming terrible at recounting anything any more...



There were fireworks (there's a clip of the finale at the bottom of the post):


There was a show (more pics with Miss Richfield 1981 when I get them sent to me):


There were cute boys and Lea Delaria (I screamed "I saw you in On the Town!!!") :

There was a history of sex toys section:



Notice the space-aged (1970s style) Eroscillator-2!



Even Sears played a part in auto-sexual history:


There was another show:



There were friends behaving oddly:


There were friends smiling:


And there was a misty lonely lighthouse:


And since that is a maudlin way to end this post, here is - behind an unfortunate veil of smoke - the finale to the Provincetown fireworks show.

A few dumb things.

It's funny, these days I have lots of thoughts, worries, fears, and laughs, fun times, and feeling basically ok, but... I don't write about it much any more.

I'm not sure why, to be honest.

I don't even take pictures much. I was in Provincetown this weekend and all I took was a picture of this absolutely fascinating moth.


But - as fascinating as this creature was - this kind of photo neglect just isn't right.

I wonder if I should ask friends if it's ok to put pictures of them here. I generally assume if no one has given permission than it's inappropriate - if not illegal? - to post their pics here.

(I also took figured this did *not* apply to, say, other bloggers who have their own pics up anyways.)

But maybe if I asked and it was ok, putting some pics here would give me an excuse to take more pics and have more good memories.
---

On a totally different ranty front...

Um... ok, the Republican party officially has to shut the fuck up any time anyone's military service is brought up.

Why?

Remember the words:

"Kerry" and "Swift Boat".

End of story.

YOU broke it, YOU bought it. Get over it.

(And anyone who says McCain is somehow different, can shove it up their doughy asses).


Military folks have a different criteria for criticism here - and, in advance, thank you all for your service.

Just ask, when people said Kerry shot himself, he just got an itty bitty scratch, purple hearts are fake awards (yes, all purple hearts) - when the GOP and their cronies said all these things, did you stand up for John Kerry?

Yes?

Then you go - stand up for John McCain now. I respect you highly for that consistency and integrity, which I imagine also shined through in your service to our country. I'm being really serious here. People who stick up for their brothers and sisters are some of the people I respect the most in the world.

On the other hand, during that time in 2004, did you just sit back and smile?

Then you can shut the fuck up now.

You broke it, You bought it.