tigertugger

How many swans a swimming?

2004-12-27T20:53:00.000-05:00

The happy cat family, tig cat, tug cat and boss cat spent our very first Christmas alone this year. Partly because of circumstance--no time off other than everybody's ration of two days from work--which, now that you ask, is spinning like a top. tig & tug are jealous of the time I'm away, but they've been spoiled for 15 months.

Partly, too, because of no water, Dorothy. The ABS pipe in the lake burst into a beautiful ice-fall, and nothing reached the house. Christmas Eve day a gracious Vietnam vet turned hippie plumber got things going long enough for a holiday shower. Sadly, he had to cut the heating coil in the ABS, and won't be back until Thursday to (a) move the pump closer to the house and (b) install a new heating unit. So until then, it isn't the fruitcake you think you're smelling, it's one of a totally different species.

And partly, too, because I really can't stand/sit around with the neighbors while they get sloshed and try to force grog down me.

tig, tug & I had been collecting the gifts that arrived under the traditionally decked-out, um, poinsettia. We had a fantastic time opening presents and playing in the tissue.

Earlier in the week I counted 88 swans in the lake. Can't believe it. Graceful and noisy. Reminds me of one of my favorite sports.

After our Turkey Dinner courtesy of our personal chef, Ms. Callendar, the happy cat family napped away, still dreaming of sugar plums. Mine was tan, black hair, brown eyes, with just a hint of ginger in his personality.

Hope you all had a Merry, a Happy, a Holy, a Festive Day, whichever one(s) you celebrate!

Especially those of you so far away, without a tig or a tug, or even a boss cat, to keep you purring in the desert.

re-entry

2004-12-04T21:11:00.000-05:00

At long last, tigertugger's returned to the blogosphere, after repeated booster attempts. The news is good. Well, except for the election, but that doesn't qualify as news any more, I spose.

tig & tug have been helping celebrate the New Job, turning kittie cartwheels and shaking the house with giant rumble-purrs. Especially when I get home each day.

The job's in NYC, which I'd hoped for, and getting into the bustle of midtown during the day, and downtown afterwards is the life I wanted to return to. In many ways it's like turning back the clock, and makes the many years working in NJ and Chicago disappear. Not all of them were bad, but I've always been happiest in the Big Apple.

Cheers from tig & tug!

mr. personality

2004-10-16T22:09:00.000-04:00

Tigertugger's been interviewing, and waiting, and interviewing, and waiting, and interviewing, and waiting for a real live full-time job. I'm better qualified than pretty much anyone for the job, and resent having my balls put through the wringer on this. The latest is that on Friday, I had to take a personality ~~test~~ evaluation. Six grueling hours of answering stupid questions, drawing pictures, and trying to figure out logic problems. I'm lucky I have any personality left. And the results won't be in for another week. Sheesh.

Meanwhile, consulting on the current editorial project continues. Data deadline is Weds. After lots of work and overcoming a number of obstacles, I should make it fairly easily.

Then back to the annual law compendium.

By that time, maybe tig & tug won't have forgotten me, I hope, and will congratulate me on the new job with the raspiest bath ever, stretched out in front of the fireplace.

Which Peanuts character is tigertugger?

2004-09-19T21:38:00.000-04:00

You are Pig Pen!

Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Gmail invites

2004-09-19T01:50:00.000-04:00

Tig & tug have six Gmail invites to give away. Send your first name, last name and email to tigertugger email in the sidebar. First six requests get invites.

Reporting for duty, sir - Dad says its OK you haven't seen me lately

2004-09-18T20:44:00.000-04:00

Tigertugger's been busy, as noted earlier, with lots of editing work to do (hooray!). I've also been revising my AA meeting schedule over the past few weeks. While going to any meeting is better than going to none, I've been a little fidgety at the local meetings here in the NJ Highlands. A meeting of five people has certain advantages, but not as a steady routine. And I don't feel a strong sense of camaraderie in the larger meetings, since I'm gay, have no children, don't enjoy yard work, etc.

So, I decided to go back to my sobriety roots, the meetings in Greenwich Village. The choice of meetings in just this one part of the city is unbelievable, and my regular meetings from years ago are still thriving. It's also been a treat to find familiar faces still in the rooms, and to get re-acquainted with them.

Rediscovering the Village has been fun as well. Who cleaned up Christopher Street? And where did all these straight people come from?

AWOL

2004-09-17T17:05:00.000-04:00

tigertugger's been awol, mostly working, working, working (while there's work to be had). tig & tug are planning a better update soon. Meanwhile, check out the cost of the Iraqi war link in the sidebar.

Arrrrr! Ye Scrogs & Sea Dogs!

2004-09-02T23:05:00.000-04:00

tig & tug will be celebratin' tigertugger's birthday a day early, on September 19, International Talk Like A Pirate Day!

While tigertugger swings the lead, the cubs'll be goin' on account, and polishin' up their vocabulary usin' a variety o' resources, includin' t' Pirate weblog, The Ship's Log O' the Festerin' Boil.

By the powers, they'll be swashbucklin' and hornswagglin' booty from the bilge to the poop deck.

When falls the night, the threesome'll ply the buccaneers with the top ten pirate pickup lines.

All ye Jack Tars and Picaroons can train yer tongues in preparation, as well as larn t' true meanin' of t' term "bung hole," at these amusin' locations:

Pirate Home
Talk Like a Pirate Translator
The Pirate's Realm
Pyrate Talk
Scoundrels Pirate Terms

Lily-livered landlubbers will be granted quarters only if their Rogers is Jolly enuf.

yawn

2004-09-02T21:51:00.000-04:00

Pataki's bedtime story is making me so sleepy, I don't know if I'll be able to stick around for W's fibs.

Scott's Eyes

2004-09-02T01:09:00.000-04:00

What is this love that grows within my breast,
As infinitely changing as the blue
Of God’s blue sky, whose span from east to west
Diminishes all man-made points of view
To hollow rumors of cerulean
And unsubstantial hints of indigo?
To fix upon the host’s meridian,
Discover north or south or high or low,
Is but to chart the passage of the clouds,
Which yesterday the boundless four winds blew;
Or choose one hue among celestial crowds,
Decrying how it paints my love untrue.
To look for measure of my love in sky’s
To look for nought: my meaning’s in thine eyes.

tigertugger

Best reports from Iraq

2004-08-31T13:38:00.000-04:00

Best on-the-ground, eyewitness reports from Iraq: Back to Iraq 3.0

Weblog Perspectives, Daily Life and photos from: A Family in Baghdad

Let's make a bigger, less protected target

2004-08-31T12:51:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, on my way to meet friends in the city after work, I was one of 15,000 people delayed by a suspicious package in the Hoboken Terminal. My fellow passengers and I were trapped in a train stopped on the tracks, hearing announcements such as "Ladies & Gentlemen, we are being held indefinitely outside of Hoboken due to police activity in the terminal." Five minutes later: "We've been told that the Hoboken Terminal is being evacuated." Five minutes later: "We do not know what is happening in Hoboken, and have been told that there is no estimated time that we will be allowed in the terminal," etc., for an hour.

The mood in the train escalated from annoyance to apprehension to worry. Everyone on the train was phoning family and friends, asking if they had heard what was happening, or checking their web connections for any news. Nobody knew nuthin.

Eventually, the train moved to a NJ Transit Employees stop, and we were instructed to evacuate our train (but not WHY), and that a following train would collect us, which it did, a few minutes later. We were told that the Hoboken Terminal had been "re-opened," but there was no news of how soon we'd be able to reach it. Dead on the tracks again.

Nearly two hours behind the schedule ("revised for the RNC week"), we arrived at the Hoboken Terminal, all looked normal--well, except for about a million cops, K9 units, confusion. I took the PATH train to the city with no further incidents.

Normally, I would have taken the Midtown Direct train straight to Penn Station. However, due to the RNC, and for "security's" sake, all of these trains had been re-routed to Hoboken for the week. Now I wonder: for whose security? Penn Station and surrounds is the most secure location on the planet this week. But instead of sending half of the normal train traffic there, as usual, the powers decided to create anguishing congestion in Hoboken, essentially trapping thousands of citizens in a relatively unprotected location, providing a wonderful target for any would-be terrorists. How smart is that?

Unless, of course, some lives are worth putting at risk in favor of the unwelcome fat cats in MSG, surrounded by cops, soldiers with rifles, FBI, Secret Service, etc., making the whole area reminiscent of a totaliarian regime.

Messages from Tiananmen Square Garden

2004-08-28T14:47:00.000-04:00

Your body is unfit as a means of expression. And that goes double if you're talking about preventing people from dying a slow horrible death.

We will not tolerate transportation that doesn't benefit big oil.

Ancillary: if you want to protest on Sunday, it won't be easy to get here from the Garden State (unless you drive)—
Aug 28, 2004 11:56:07 PM
Due to overhead wire problems, service is suspended temporarily between NPS and NYPS on the NJCL and NEC Lines trains. Passengers may use the Path trains to go to 33rd Street in New York.

Just because you don't have WMD doesn't mean we can't arrest you for thinking about getting some, based on spurious intel.

. . . And from outside the Garden:

Greenspan announces how well we've done with the economy. Don't miss the remark, "As a nation, we owe it to our retirees to promise only the benefits that can be delivered." Where I come from, you keep the promise already made, not change it.

Coverage of the events from that propagandist rag Aljazeera. Don't miss the sidebar "How to become US President" — should be a must-read for all Americans.

If you happen to get lost in the Lower East Side, get a Free Pickle - from the Pickle Guys!

ok this is really stupid but i can't help myself

2004-08-18T01:37:00.000-04:00

:: how jedi are you? ::

Thanks to my favorite Yoda

rrrrrrrroooooowwwwwww Nancy's got new boots

2004-08-16T22:30:00.000-04:00

tug is thrilled and can't wait until Sept. 14, when Nancy Sinatra Returns with a full new album. The first single is "Let Me Kiss You," written by Morrissey and on his latest album.

This chorus line — "Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire and let me kiss you" — has tig fantasizing about how Nancy got Morrissey to sing backup on the tune. He's so geared up he's racing here to get his personal persuaders.

tug wishes he had the right cell phone carrier to download the You Only Live Twice Ring Tone

Meeting time

2004-08-16T22:26:00.000-04:00

After making a recommitment to attend AA meetings in honor of my recent anniversary, I've done fairly well, and the experience is still kind of amazing. Not that it's easy to get myself to take the action of kicking myself out of the house and my familiar funk. But I never leave a meeting not feeling better.

Because my attendance has been spotty to nil over the last howmanyever years, I'm finding myself relearning lots of things I thought I knew. Tonight's lesson for me was that my insanity and my addiction are not separate issues. I can bring myself close to the equivalent of a good binge just by feeding my obsessions. And if I don't have a good obsession underway, it isn't hard to create one.

So, somehow tonight HP got me back to coming to believe that a power greater than myself could restore me to sanity, and I dragged myself, much against my will, to a meeting.

By the end of the meeting, Mr. "Can't Get It Together to Clean His Own House" actually volunteered to help clean up the meeting room and meet a couple of people.

God, I hate being such a wuss.

Happy Birthday Awnry&Irish!!

2004-08-14T01:10:00.000-04:00

Tig & tug light a candle to wish our friend peace, love and Happy Birthday with great big tiger hugz!

To A&I on His Birthday

tigertugger

nifty spellchecker ?

2004-08-10T12:09:00.000-04:00

To paraphrase Vice President Cheney and Mama T:

Shizzolate yourself

Tip o' the whiskers to Rebel Banana.

How to celebrate?

2004-08-09T23:17:00.000-04:00

August 11: Be there or be bare!

National Underwear Day at Freshpair.com

Boxers? 29%
Briefs? 28%
Boxer Briefs? 23%

tig's choice (5%)

tug's just going without! (9 very discriminating %)

Sunny day for tigertugger

2004-08-09T21:39:00.000-04:00

Today I went back to the old office to meet some friends for lunch. I was a little early, so I hung around outside. Since it was lunch hour, lots and lots of what used to be the same old faces came out, and the greetings I got were a little overwhelming. Hugs, kisses, compliments, one right after another. I felt like Sally Field. Fortunately, I was able to keep things to a reasonable amount of blushing.

Then dinner with my best friend P., where I enjoyed every chastisement for not keeping in touch enough.

I love days like this.

Happy Birthday Cali!

2004-08-09T00:13:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday to a friend who lives
In a House in the United States

Blue ribbon state fair!

2004-08-06T07:30:00.000-04:00

Wisconsin State Fair 2004 - Good To Go! Best state fair in the world. Wish I could be there.

I knew i should have gone to library school. . .

2004-08-03T23:23:00.000-04:00

From a librarian's discussion list, SERIALST:

Item is indexed as: Library job in Greece

POSITION AVAILABLE

HEAD LIBRARIAN
Advertisement

"The American School of Classical Studies at Athens (ASCSA) invites
applications and nominations for the position of Head Librarian of the
Carl W. Blegen Library. Founded in 1881, the ASCSA is a primary resource
for American and international graduate students and scholars in ancient
and post-classical Hellenic studies, and offers two research libraries
located on its campus in Athens, Greece: the Blegen, with 87,000 volumes
dedicated to the ancient Mediterranean world, and the Gennadius, with
110,500 volumes and archives devoted to post-classical Hellenic
civilization. The School also sponsors excavations and provides centers
for advanced research in archaeological and related topics at its
excavations in the Athenian Agora and Corinth.

Responsibilities of the Head Librarian: . . . "

Who could ask for more? Especially at Olympics time?

tig says "maybe you have a chance. maybe there won't be any qualified applicants snarf"

Delilah - Journal

2004-08-01T21:31:00.000-04:00

Tig & tug love this beautiful woman, and so do I. Depending on where I've worked on a particular day, I might catch part of her call-in radio show on my way home. I have always admired her because she accords every person the respect and honor and affection they deserve. The journal entries of her visit to Accra, Ghana are inspiring. Welcome home, Delilah. Thanks for all your fine work.

congratulations to me

2004-08-01T20:49:00.000-04:00

Tig & tug offer congratulations to tigertugger! 23 years clean and sober today, one day at a time.

tintinnitis

2004-07-31T04:01:00.000-04:00

Tigertugger just woke up at 4 a.m. with ringing ears and a chill. Tig was dreaming of cuffing your ears, Haddock; and tug was dreaming he was this guy:

blues is blues

2004-07-30T01:08:00.000-04:00

I have to admit that the funk is related to 7/29 being Carlos' birthday and man, the house felt empty when I got home. Napped, watched the Kerry fest. Found this helpful Duke Ellington quotation

"I merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues."

It's been close to 3 years now, and I'm trying to reconcile my feelings about dealing with the "onliest" status Carlos had in my life, and granting myself the right to live on. The thoughts and emotional feelings take on a moral cast I never expected, and sorting out what's right makes my head and heart feel like they've been punched beyond endurance. Some things have to go on the shelf, because the moral questions include ones about what I owe myself in this life, too. I've been listening to "The Last Worthless Evening" a lot recently.

Otra vez, Carlos, siempre, te amo. Feliz cumpleanos!

Jones visits

2004-07-29T19:27:00.000-04:00

Baby ain't getting what he wants today and it's making him pissy and distressed. Tig & tug are lying in the late-day sun, faking a nap, watching to see how serious this funk might be. Wish I could put a name on it, not a human name or an animal name particularly, just a name other than "uh-oh, how long is this gonna last?" Revving up a good poem would help but mr. muse is in a hidey-hole somewhere. Just a little while ago I was parked on the interstate with all the steamed traffic, wailing good tunes, having a good old time. Last night I was all geared up and happy--nothing's changed but me. Go figger. My jones is craving inspiration.

Ennui

2004-07-29T00:21:00.000-04:00

ennui: the flowers bloom
perennui: the flowers bloom always

tigertugger

The importance of being anonymous

2004-07-27T01:34:00.000-04:00

Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities. --12th Tradition of AA

Tonight, I learned again, from another's experience, that the principle of anonymity applies to the world outside of 12-step rooms. Indeed, it applies at some time in every aspect of what I consider a life well-lived: a kind word spoken, an offer to help, a kindness done, a friendship honored, love freely given.

Anonymity is fitting — is a requirement — especially, when my ego is bruised or my love rejected, and my urge to vengeance swiftly rises. Anonymity provides time to acquire perspective on what seems an unforgivable wrong. It suspends my potential to harm another, and keeps open the possibility of resolution.

For me to make a glib retaliation or to take reckless action, is by definition to act contrary to anonymity. Once I've undertaken an impetuous course, I have precluded forever the possibility of making whole any wrongdoing. The temptation to disregard this lesson is great, because my immediate release is deceptive, and it masks the injury that insidiously festers more deeply into my spirit.

What takes me most by surprise, is that anonymity is crucial even in those giddy moments of personal serendipity involving others. A blithe remark may be misunderstood, or misquoted with completely unimagined consequences. And the cynic in me knows that it will be quoted, and out of my earshot. I forget that in any relationship between two, I only know half the story, and even that half, I may not know truly. A relationship of any sort: family, friend, lover, acquaintance, implies concurrence, and a violation of that accord, however innocent, is a violation of another person. This applies even when the accord is, in reality, discord.

What is new to me in this, is the astonishing evolution of our social culture due to electronic communication, and that evolution is only just beginning. More particularly, I am amazed at the effect this evolution can have on our personal relationships and our ways of forming, defining and communicating them. Suddenly, every reader can become a writer. The effect of weblogs is that they make friendships possible that previously were never imagined. I can read another's blog, make contact, and establish a friendship that may not fit into any defined category. Or the other person and I may meet and follow a more "traditional" route in our knowing each other. I can read an old friend's new blog, and that friendship may change in ways I could not have anticipated.

The joys and possibilities of these experiences are part of what makes blogs and blogging appealing. Blogging is an exciting adventure.

I could read a blog regularly and never make direct contact with the author. Yet through my reading, and through others I know by blogs and emails, I could come to form opinions, and what's worse, express them without considering anonymity, to detrimental effect. What might have been cliquish gossip can suddenly morph into what might seem to be a world wide wrangle.

What's bizarre at this juncture is the breadth and immediacy in the new circumstances of knowing people. This blog, tigertugger, has existed for only 22 days. Yet it has been read in ten time zones in the world, six of them with some regularity. People who had never imagined considering my existence now have at least a glimpse of my world, my personality and my soul.

For one who loves writing but hates the marketing of it to agents and publishers, this is a dream come true.

However, because of what I might write about others — unedited, the principle of anonymity becomes a greater responsibility for me. Were I to violate anonymity, I should come to know the harm I might have done to others. And the harm to myself would then be devastating, for I would face the idea of two reputations having gone out of control. Whether or not the fact of the situation is as bad as I imagine becomes a moot point. The fact that I would never be able to know, would be enough to destroy my own self respect.

So, having observed and considered the effect on another, I must be vigilant to observe the principle of anonymity in all my affairs. I am grateful that this lesson was placed in front of me. I pray that at the least, I do not forget it. I pray, too, that the one who had the courage to share the lesson might find quick relief from his distress, and discover grace and forgiveness.

cattitude gratitude

2004-07-27T00:08:00.000-04:00

The outside strays I feed left me the third field mouse of the season the other day. Royboy, the friendliest (you can almost touch him) seemed especially proud. Since he has an injured foot, I doubt he actually nabbed the bounty. Probably one of the black cat twins, Rumsfeld and Ashcroft. Roy's more the watchcat, sitting by the door for hours at a time. I took it as a gift-in-kind from them for filling their bowls twice daily. I took it as far as the big can in the garage at the top of the hill.

As easy breath contents the windless dawn

2004-07-26T00:41:00.000-04:00

As easy breath contents the windless dawn,
My sweetheart’s sleeping fingers stir my own.
The rhythms of our dreaming world are gone
From me save one: I hear a lingering tone.
My lashes buff an arc to glimpse the tail
Of nightingale pursuing land of nod.
Fair fowl! Would that I had wings to trail
Thine opalescent flight of bliss abroad—
To clasp the shadow of this lambent hand
Within mine own hand’s rough humanity—
Together then our souls would have command
Of daybreak’s joy and night’s serenity.
But soft! my pulsing bosom, soft! The lark
Awakes my love to fill the day 'til dark.

tigertugger

cub cam

2004-07-25T23:41:00.000-04:00

Tig and tug want to know why these cuties don't have names yet. Tigertugger knows a couple of good ones for them. They were born May 30 at the Minnesota Zoo.

Click above to see them in their den.
(requires realplayer)

Outhouse frame of mind

2004-07-25T23:27:00.000-04:00

Gotta get away from the smell of all the shit I have to unload. Who's home and awake?

Would go to the shrink but been there, done that, shrink has the t-shirt.

Maybe just pull an ole pome outta the box and polish it up.

I think the test is messed up. . .

2004-07-25T19:05:00.000-04:00

You're Malaysia!

You're really lanky and you enjoy spreading out over a lot of different places, but you've really got your act together these days. It's still hard for you to get respect, so you keep making greater and greater things so people will finally recognize that you've arrived. If you keep persevering, people will hopefully recognize that you have more than a nice spice cabinet to show for yourself.

Take the Country Quiz at the Blue Pyramid

(Are there tigers in Malaysia?)

Tug wants to sign tig up

2004-07-24T12:01:00.000-04:00

Tug wants to improve his ~~altar~~alter ego's appearance. Thanks to Gwen for the tip.

A wordy messenger

2004-07-23T20:51:00.000-04:00

A wordy messenger to thy kind ear
I now dispatch. His song was taught him well,
Rehearsed until he sang each word full clear,
That of my love for thee he could but tell.
Receive him to thy gentle company
And hear the missive he recites by rote.
If singing, he a mite of joy bring thee,
I pray he teach thy fool each word and note.
That by this, I, thy fool, may think on thee,
And on thy smile, and on the happy hope
That thou, in smiling, mayst think on me
And on my joy in sending thee this trope.
But if his singing rings my love amiss,
Dispatch him back with one forgiving kiss.

tigertugger

Tig asks of tug re. blogarama

2004-07-22T22:01:00.000-04:00

Tig: Tug, what was the url you gave them?

Tug: Gee, tig, I don't remember.

Tig: Was it right?

Tug: uuuuuuuhhhh you mean, maybe we're not offensive, just unlocatable?

Tig: Try harder, tug. At least I find you offensive. . .

Take that!

2004-07-22T14:33:00.000-04:00

Blogarama thinks tig and tug are offensive. Hee hee hee.

End of july birthday blues

2004-07-22T13:48:00.000-04:00

I'll call him Wits. He kept them about him at all times. He kept pretty much everything about him to himself at all times, except his dry humor. Other than some boyhood dalliances, he was the first man I loved. We were roommates, briefly, in college. We had some fun together, parties, hangovers, concerts, ball games, classes, pinball (yeah, real pinball that would tilt), meals, tv with our feet in each other's crotches, sleep, sleepy mornings getting ready for class. Eventually he told me that I'm too intense. Last time I saw him, after many years, the air was still electric. We talked about his two daughters, we talked about what we are doing now. No real details from Wits. The skin was still smooth and tan, the eyes blue, the black hair had gone gray. Still handsome, still calm, still witty. July 25--Happy Birthday, Wits.

July 29. Carlos and I were together 17 years. Constantly. Strangers took us for brothers. Spanish-speakers frequently thought I was Cuban, because I learned the language by living with Carlos, and I speak with a Cuban accent. Only not so rapid-fire (or so loud), unless I get very excited or angry. Carlos passed on to paradise nearly three years ago. I feel him here with me, still. I miss him terribly. I wonder what I could have done different, or better. I talk to him. I talk to him a lot when I'm driving my truck, because we'd take lots of day trips, weekend trips. I sometimes still cry. I haven't listened to Cuban music since the day I couldn't say adios. I wish he were still here so I could hide the cake under a few pounds of candles and laugh with him. I'm writing this a week early because I can't wait to say Happy Birthday and because I don't know how I might say it if I wait for the day. Happy Birthday, Carlos. Gracias para todo, Carlos. Te amo.

tigertugger's aanniversary

2004-07-18T19:51:00.000-04:00

August 1 will mark 23 years I've been clean and sober, if God so wills it. I haven't made much of a deal about my anniversaries since probably my third one, so I don't know why I have a major urge to make note of this one. Maybe it's that I have lost my sense of gratitude for nothing more than continuing to be alive, and have come to realize this failure recently.

It's only through the grace of my Higher Power bringing me to sanity (at least about drink and drugs) that I am alive today. Otherwise I could have gone in any of the following ways:

You get the idea.

Or worse yet, I could have survived as a drunk and addict.

I hadn't been to a meeting in I don't know how long until last night. I got sober in NYC, where I could find a meeting for gay drunks pretty much anytime, any day, any night. Another gift from HP. Eventually, I got over the "gay" requirement, and found that the primary purpose of staying sober one day at a time made everyone who shared it my brother or sister. To all those anonymous friends, thank you.

Now, I feel timid (again) about attending a meeting--I've felt the need for one for a while now--so I instituted the old search for a gay meeting. There's only one per week within a reasonable distance of where I'm living. So last night I went, and of course, I'm glad I did. It brought back all the things I'd forgotten, the traditions, working the steps, the promises, the open kindness of those there to help and be helped.

Oddly, last week I also came across the self-inventory I did so long ago. I opened the notebook, saw what it was, and thought that maybe I should read it again. Then closed it--quickly. Buried it in a box. I haven't re-read it yet, but maybe, before the anniversary.

Starting this weblog/journal, whatchamacallit, has been an attempt to re-inventory myself, although I didn't think of it exactly in those terms at the time. And the little woggle here is not quite the same thing. Among other things, however, it serves the purpose.

It's hard to express the feelings that come up about the anniversary, the process of getting clean and sober, the memories both before and during, the first qualification I gave. Maybe I should do a qualification again for this year. It's funny now to realize that the first qualification was more about my love life than my drinking life, but hey when you're mocus for a year. . .

Memories about the steps:

Couldn't admit the problem first time out. Went home to prove myself wrong.

Once the admission was done, this one was easy, because nothing else had come close to bringing me to sanity. I was willing to try anything.

I always had been willing to turn my life and will over to somebody, usually the wrong somebody. I just didn't know who the real HP is (and his smile, personality and physique has nothing to do with it).

Took a long time to approach doing an inventory. Once it was started, I thought I'd never finish.

Thank you George, for listening. and listening. and listening to me unload. And offering uncritical suggestions. P.S. I can still feel the summer night approaching on the rooftop patio, the image of the sunset, the cool air. One of those nights a person will never forget.

I remember asking myself over and over if I was entirely ready to have the defects removed. And feeling like giving them up was to step into the abyss. This took much longer than I had ever imagined it would when looking ahead to it from step 1.

This was quick and easy. Once I'd gotten through step 6, the commitment was made, and all that was left to do was ask for help.

The list of those I'd harmed. Oh brother, I didn't even know some of their names. The shame of realizing I had done some really horrible things. And the relief that in contemplation, some of those things were bad enough, but not as bad as I'd thought. Becoming willing to make amends was the hard part.

Making amends was sometimes tough. Admissions, conversations, letters, actions to make good. At least you learn who are truly good friends.

I'm still not so good at the continuing inventory. I'm better about promptly admitting when I'm wrong.

Attempting to make conscious contact with the HP has proved to be an adventure. My relationship with him is constantly changing. And even when I forget to make contact, I'm forgiven. What a concept.

Carrying the message. My first experience sponsoring someone. I remember realizing the shocking responsibility this step carries. And I'm still frightened by it.

I remember discovering people in meetings that I'd known, and wondered where they went.

I remember in the beginning asking someone what this "program" people were talking about is. And I got the best response for me, for the time, for any time, "Don't drink and go to meetings."

Over the past couple of years I can say that I've been under a lot of stress, I've gone through some tough experiences, one devastating one, and yet I've managed to stay away from the drink and drugs.

Now I need to stop staying away from the meetings.

tig's favorite comic

2004-07-18T00:32:00.000-04:00

NEW (:= X Chopping Block X =:)

tig roars with glee!

tug returns the hot red truck

2004-07-17T11:45:00.000-04:00

The regular vehicle was repaired, and it was time to return the red truck. The intern wasn't around the car rental office. sigh.

Tug's been feeling the need to relearn how to know people, lately, so on the way to the rental office, I'd resolved to make the attempt to give it a shot, no matter what.

After much hemming around, the office folks called in a kid from the back to take me to the auto body shop, a good 20-minute ride. Jeepers. On the way we talked about his college, his baseball team, his house shared with 5 other guys, etc., and my work, where I live.

OK, so nothing will develop from this encounter, except what already has. I got a boost, having felt like a social cripple lately.

On the same front, I accepted a cookout invite from the neighbors. First time in years, since the passing of my other half. Actually enjoyed the company and myself.

Life's looking a little better.

tig plans to soak tug's head

2004-07-15T00:34:00.000-04:00

Tug's mental state revealed itself by waking up tig in the middle of the night with a strange dream, dare we say nightmare, along the lines of: tug was reading another's log being deconstructed in yet a third party's weblog, including attached notes, comments and disagreements. It was like reading Nabokov's Pale Fire in light of the experience of reading The Annotated Lolita. The lusters Humbert and Kimbote were being subjected to not only a gloss, but to reviews of the gloss, as well.

Tig's sleepy mind couldn't fathom this, and he promptly tried to kick tug back to his senses.

Tug, being the rainbow chasing fool, wanted to pursue the imaginary discourse. He was fascinated by the topic of obfuscating one's emotions by sublimating them into a symbolic recounting of the mundane, as being discussed by the chimeric reviewers.

Tig finally told him to get a life. Tug has now left tig dozing in the bedroom while he polishes off this note.

Little does tug know that tig has already begun a dream of a totally different order, and plans to keelhaul tug's nonsense in the midnight sea, firing the great gun and howling insanely.

Chicago

2004-07-12T00:44:00.000-04:00

i'm in chica

going real chag

all over you

tigertugger

The Hard Stuff

2004-07-11T14:09:00.000-04:00

The hard stuff of life
Comes as moments of anticipation,
Such as that instant that gains time,
Following the applause, while my eye is fixed
On the conductor’s baton,
And my heart fits up, seeking tempo
From the chaos of possibilities.

With hard expectations that paralyze action,
The set-jaw of fear, and cold excitation,
I stand on the edge of the quarry,
Yearning for the stillness of the water below,
Thinking, “Jump!” “no, not yet” “Now! Jump!”

I become the stuff of granite
With these momentous hesitations.

I debate my obsessions in a lost tense,
Like listening to two clocks
Ticking different rhythms in the same room,
Neither tracking this moment, now:
One ticks off a moment ahead; one, one moment behind.

The hard stuff of self: as was, as might be,
Is as comforting as a statue’s pillow
When I lean against the rock of self image
And sculpt from the air
The blank tiger’s eyes of others.

How can I speak to the unknown?
The unknown faces of loved ones,
The unknown thoughts, yet unrealized, behind them?
And the unknown unknowns.

I make the hard stuff.
I curl my fingers into my palms,
Waiting.

And I do not act. Moment by moment
I analyze these easy days
Into the hard stuff of dreamless nights.

tigertugger

Bennies

2004-07-10T14:58:00.000-04:00

-noun. (1) Weekenders to the NJ lake country from outlying areas. Bayonne, New York, Newark. (2) Obnoxious, loud family parties who think they own the water.

I friggin hate these people who drop anchor 5 feet from the yard, crank up the radio and keep throwing the screaming kids into the water with the rubber raft. And have absofuckinglutely no compunction about watching and listening to everything going on in and around the house. Time to get out the cure: binoculars. With reflective orange lenses. Just train those babies on the boat and count the minutes before they're gone. If you really want them outta here FAST, train the binocs on the kids and count the nanoseconds.

As much as I hate the cold, sometimes the frozen lake views are sweet memories.

tug gets a winker too

2004-07-10T07:38:00.000-04:00

I'm standing next to the insurance agent in the rental car office, after an altercation with a mailbox that threw rocks in my path. Well, that's my version of it, anyway. No matter what the mailbox says, the antidepressant and sleeping pill from the night before had nothing to do with it. Besides which, both were legitimately obtained using cash insurance money on the respected advice of the doctor.

The intern on the other side of the counter, who looks like he must work his second job on the golf course, keeps smiling at me. I try to naturally smile back while choking my heart down from my larynx. We're surveying the available vehicles to choose a $25 per day model, and I'm pretending not to notice the teal Geo. So far, I think the insurance agent thinks my rapid respiration is accident shock, and has no clue it might be related to blue eyes, black hair and tanned skin.

The intern heaves a sigh and says, "Hmmmm, looks like we're out of vehicles in that price range. I'll have to upgrade you to something else, but at the same rate. We'll just need to get some information." And that's how I temporarily ended up with the hottest red pickup in the county. I go through the name, rank, and serial number routine with him, admiring the smile that could rule the world.

"Now, I'll just need to have you initial here, and here, and sign here, and initial here. . . wait, let me bring it around there," he says. Around the counter he comes and stands so close I feel the body heat. He hands me the clipboard, and points to the circles and exes. I'm initialing away, and he whispers in my ear, "blow you?" Holy shit.

Next week I return the rental. I'm not taking the insurance agent.

That was on Friday.

On Saturday, I happened upon a vintage car club expo at the local roller-skate drive-in. Scores of bright, shiny, colorful, um, cars with personality. I'm wandering around in the breeze and sunlight, peering through windows at dashboards, doing a 360 around the vehicles, when I notice I'm being followed by a guy radiating charm accompanied by a glowering wife. I gotta get my attention back on the cars. I cross over to the other side of the drive-in's parking lot. Before long, there's Mr. Radiation, peering into a window with me. "Can I help you?" he says. Then Mrs. Radiation looks through the other window. Guess not.

Whatever the cosmic alignment was a couple of weekends ago, I hope it involved fast-moving planets that will be hovering together for a long time to come.

To the Arborist

2004-07-08T20:02:00.000-04:00

Are you closer to God

up in the trees?

Do you see the angels

floating serenely on the breeze?

Or do you see them

with Joyous intent,

Searching out those

whose earthly labors are spent,

To sweep down in swift raiment of white fire,

To catch up their glowing souls

and fly them quickly beyond the spire

Where you've climbed to witness a Divine desire?

tigertugger

We have a winner!

2004-07-06T12:49:00.000-04:00

Big Game Mega Millions Lottery Results and News I didn't win the ungodly mega prize, but I won $150!

Hooky

2004-07-06T12:30:00.000-04:00

I need someone to play hooky with today. The breeze is cooling the ripples in the lake, the sun is high. I had one of those inspired moments when in the middle of getting ready for work--shaved, showered, fresh breath, but still not dressed--I discover that I just shouldn't go today. There's no arguing about it. What if I didn't pay attention to that little voice and something really bad were to happen? Naturally, none of my few friends heard the same voice. But here I am: safe, smiling, and lazy.

Gay Art Forum - Raphael perez naive artworks

2004-07-06T00:26:00.000-04:00

Gay Art Forum - Raphael perez naive artworks Beautiful paintings not only because of the colors, the light, the variety of styles--but also because the subjects inspire joy, delight, desire, and sometimes laughter.

Stupid first post

2004-07-05T23:26:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about starting a blog, and have used one of my favorite ways of procrastinating: make the project so complicated that it will be daunting to try to fulfill it. OH, and be sure to fulfill it perfectly. OK, enough of that bs. I mean, I have really important stuff to do tonight. So, I'll create an easy blog, instead. So far, it hasn't hurt. This is a really stupid first post.

Perspective

2004-07-05T21:33:00.000-04:00

This messes with my mind. The creeping petty pace, the panic of life. The uncertainty of how many times we will try to erase a moment. The realization that the moment's imprint will never disappear completely. Moving on, and on.