MADNESS!

It was a safe bet to say that all hopes of keeping John's and my break up respectable, civil and cordial went out the window on Sunday afternoon.  What should have been a quiet afternoon with the two of us keeping a respectable distance from one another turned into straight up madness.  And it all started with this simple question.  

"Do you need any help with packing your things?" 

It had been agreed that I would set about packing my things and making preparations to move out of the condo.  While it sounds simple writing it here, you have to understand that I was now expected to find a place to live--all while having no money and no job!  While the situation looked as if it couldn't possibly get any worse, here we were, in the guest bedroom about to push the envelope between rational thinking and downright anger.  

After looking at John for a split second (although, to me, it felt like longer), I finally blurted out, "Where do you expect me to go right now?  And how do you expect me to get there?"  It was those two questions that echoed throughout our conversation while we sat there, trying to once again, be respectful.  

So much for being civil.  

While at no time did we ever raise our voices beyond our normal tone, here we were arguing about--looking back at it now, nothing.  But John wasn't having it.  Against my pleading with him, he made a move that would later prove a ridiculous one and even now as I sit here recalling the incident, I still can't believe he was as daring as he was.  

He threatened to call the police.  

"What are you going to call the police for?"  I asked.  "What do you really expect for them to do?  You're not being threatened.  I haven't assaulted you.  In fact, we're not even yelling at each other, "  I informed him.  "So what do you really expect to happen by calling them?"  

My words fell upon John's deaf ears because he still held his cell phone in hand and was punching the digits.  

I resigned to the fact that our Sunday afternoon quarrel was now about to take an even more dramatic turn now that San Diego's finest was about to intervene.  Whereas normally, I probably would've panicked at the mere thought of the police coming out to our house, I calmly sat on the stairs and listened while John, now downstairs in his office, explained to the dispatcher why we needed police assistance.  So on the stairs I sat until finally, I got up, marched outside, lit a Newport and tried to figure out what to do next.   

Then suddenly, I had an idea!

Buzzing from the nicotine and menthol, I strolled back into the house and into John's office.  He was still on the phone with the dispatcher--only now, he was giving her a play-by-play of my actions.  I held out my hand and asked to speak to her directly.  Hesitant at first, John finally handed me his cell phone and in the most pleasant tone that I could muster, I spoke to the lady who now knew more about us than I'm sure her job required.  

Twenty minutes after John had originally placed the call, the police showed up.  

To be continued...

Friday night gang bang.

Last night was Critical Mass and if there ever was a time that I needed to get out and just ride for a while, it was last night.  Like I'd mentioned before, I've come to look forward to the last Friday of the month.  This evening was no different.  

I'd been feeling kinda down and was starting to get on my own nerves.  By 4 o'clock, I knew that I would be going out to ride.  My friend, Rich invited John and I to dinner at his place and while I normally would pick an evening with him, I declined instead opting for the night bicycle ride.  

A bit after 7, I joined the group of people riding past our building towards the park.  It was turning into a wonderful evening; not too hot and just a small amount of humidity.  At the fountain at Balboa Park, there was a local band performing.  The large group of people--all with their bikes, were sitting and standing around; drinking beers, talking, smoking and riding their bikes in circles.  By 8 o'clock, we were ready to ride, this time choosing the downtown path.   While the group didn't appear to be as large as last month, there was still quite a number of cyclists zipping down Fourth Avenue towards downtown.  

We rode through downtown then over to Little Italy, where the sidewalks were lined with people out for the evening.  Of course, we were a sight to see and a few people snapped photos as over 500 people--all on bicycles whizzed by.  The collective lingered in Little Italy while we waited for the other half of the group to catch up and only then did we begin to track up this steep hill from Little Italy towards the neighborhood of Bankers Hill.  By then, I was drenched in sweat, the threadbare shirt and skinny jeans that I had on, damn near soaked.   

The trip through Bankers Hill was brief and before I knew it we were back in Hillcrest.  But rather than cross University Avenue towards other uptown neighborhoods, we instead headed back west--only this time towards Mission Hills.  Screaming loud, ringing bells & whistles, we zipped through Mission Hills and back down towards downtown. 

We basically came down the hill that we'd agonized over in Bankers Hill--only now we were on the other side!   Nevertheless, we pressed on until eventually we were back downtown.  

I didn't talk to too many people during the ride, instead choosing to crank up my iPod.  I was feeling completely mellow, perhaps because of the pot that I'd smoked before I left the house or maybe the pot that I stopped and smoked while on the ride.  Either way, I was in a good mood and for once was able to think about something other than the shambles that my life has turned into.  

The First Day.

This morning found me alive and full of excitement.  For once, it wasn't a struggle to pull myself out of bed.  I have been looking forward to this day for quite some time. 

It was the first day of school.  

I'd survived to see the first day of the fall semester at San Diego City College and I was ready to charge forward.  Even with everything that's going on in my life these days, I managed somehow to lift my spirits in anticipation of attending my classes.  I was looking forward to seeing my old friends and teachers not to mention, I couldn't wait to see all of the new hot guys that would be strolling around campus.  I would only have to attend one class this afternoon, but I intended to be on campus early enough to walk around and check out all of the newbies even though last year, I was a newbie myself.  

I set about my normal routine of getting ready for school only now there were some slight changes.  Whereas last year, I spent a great deal of money on Starbucks, this year I was making coffee at home.  The 10 minute bike commute hadn't changed and I pedaled my bike as fast as I could down Park Boulevard, iPod blasting in my ears, my head floating from the pot that I smoked before I left the house.  

I love school!  

The City college campus was buzzing with students crossing the quads, heading to their classes.  From the long, blank looks on the faces of the guys and girls that passed me up, I could tell that they weren't as excited as I was.  It was funny actually:  whereas I felt like I could backflip across the courtyard to show how excited I was, these students were sort of dragging their feet, engaged in their text messaging.  

I saw a few familiar faces while I waited for my algebra class to convene.  We all talked about how we were actually ready to get back to school.  I was informed that none of the old gang from my classes last year would be in any of them this year.  It was a bit of a disappointment, but I was able to shrug it off.  

My algebra class, it turns out was crowded with a few of us having to stand outside the classroom.  Of course there were a few students that were crashing the class and a few more who had no idea where they were.  Me, I stood outside in the walkway talking to a new guy who, it turns out, is not only very hot looking, but a nice guy as well.  

This is going to be a great semester.  I can TASTE it! 

Ian Pooley--900 Degrees

Here's the Sunday track.  This one should already be on everybody's playlists.

Bubblegum Jones '08

I mean...you HAVE to admit; it's actually kinda funny & cute.

One dollar and fifty one cents.

Shortly before 4 o'clock this evening, John asked me if I wanted to stroll with him to run some local errands.  

"I need to make a deposit. We need to close our joint account and we need some half and half," he mentioned.  I was sitting at the kitchen table and before I could come up with a reason why I wouldn't want to go, I agreed.  

The three-block stroll was uneventful and where we would normally stroll, hand in hand, John and I were walking with quite a gap in between us.  And even though we were talking casually, there were times when I would allow my mind to wander when I should have been listening to whatever it was he was going on about.  I was thinking about the reality that closing our joint bank account would signify.  

It was really over.  

I guess there was a part of me that was trying not to focus on the breakup.  But then, there was that part of me that allowed it to consume every thought in my mind.  I guess while I knew that we were ending our relationship, I didn't really want to believe it.  

There weren't too many people in the Wells Fargo bank, which I suppose was a good thing.  I tried not to focus on the cheery-faced tellers and for an instant thought about keeping my sunglasses on until we were finish with our business.  Fortunately, we wouldn't be long.  John set about making his deposit, leaving me to linger until another bank manager showed up to take care of me. 

"Was there a problem with the account?"  He asked while punching on his keyboard.  I'm sure this wasn't the first time he has had to close an account behind a couple who were calling it quits.  It didn't matter really.  After closing the account, he informed me that we had a remaining balance of: 

One dollar and fifty one cents.  

"That's done!"  John said as soon as we'd left the bank and started crossing the shopping center and headed towards Trader Joe's. 

"Yep," I agreed.  "Something that should have never been done to begin with." 

And just like that, I was over it.

I:Cube--Metamorphik

I could listen to this track all day. I like the music that I:Cube puts out, but I'd never heard this one. I came across this track tonight while fooling around on YouTube. Listen to it and just mellow out.

My friend Rich.

I got this photo from John last night.  It's me and my good friend, Rich.  So this entry is for him.   Rich, thank you for being such a wonderful guy and a great friend. 

dad's Birthday

Whenever Donovan and I address each other, we call the other dad.  Well, actually that's one of those things that I started and really he had no choice but to go along with it.  It really comes through whenever we speak to the other on the phone.  

"Hey Dad," Donovan begins once he's on the phone.  I follow his greeting with my very own.  Sounding almost like an echo of the other, Donovan will hear my reply, "Hey dad."  I've even noticed that in the last email that I'd sent him, it began with those same two words:  Hey dad. 

Today was dad's birthday.  More accurately, it was Donovan's birthday.  He turned 12.  

To this day, Lucy and I both find ourselves tripping out on the fact that he's grown so fast.  Last year, I was lucky enough to be able to be with him in Fort Worth; this year, we would have to celebrate by phone.   Lucy took the day off work and she, along with Donovan, his grandmother and his cousin were going out for a lunch of all-you-can-eat pizza.    I called Donovan as soon as I woke up--which in Fort Worth was 10 o'clock.

"Happy Birthday, dad!"  I yelled into my cell.  I'm sure he could hear the happiness in my voice.  "How's your birthday, son?" 

He was excited because his Granny was going to get him some new Chuck Taylors.   "Just like the ones you have," he said.  "Except they're completely black."  

I told him that I was sorry that I couldn't be with him for his birthday, but that John and I certainly wished either he could be here or that I could be there.  Donovan certainly sounded excited about his big day.  Me, I was longing to be with there with him.  He would, instead, have to settle for my footing the bill for his all-you-can-eat pizza lunch.  

The last time Donovan and I were together was in March.  He returned to San Diego to spend his Spring Break with John and me.  Like him, I was on Spring Break from school and we were able to have a fantastic time together.  He took an immediately liking to John and although initially he was terrified of Miss Lester, within two days, he was in love with the dog.  He's getting older, I have to remind myself and even though to me, he will always be the rambunctious two year old that always kept Lucy and I on our toes.  

Happy Birthday, dad.  

Dad

Sunday Grilling

The barbecue grill belongs to the condo Homeowners Association and while it's a beautiful piece of equipment, in the almost two years since it was purchased, the grill has only been used a few times.  Earlier this afternoon, John and I decided that we would grill later in the evening.  It was hot and humid outside but we knew that a few hours later, it would be perfect for grilling.

"We can have our dinner outside too," I added to the suggestion.  We started discussing the details and making out a shopping list.  

"You think maybe Rich would want to join us?"  John asked.  Rich was one of our dearest friends.  A pleasure to be around and a fantastic cook (the man's a chef--really), our friend Rich would certainly be welcome.  He, unfortunately, wasn't able to make it. 

I took off for Ralph's and Trader Joe's to get the items that we would need.  We set a tentative date for 7 o'clock table time and I planned to be eating by then.  While in the grocery store, I found myself thinking about the past week.  Remember, John and I decided that we would go ahead and end our relationship.  And even though we had a great time together at the beach yesterday, it was becoming more and more my reality that we wouldn't be together for too much longer.  Neither one of us had mentioned the topic of breaking up since, but then I kinda figure, there really wasn't much else that needed  to be said.  

Back home, we set about assigning duties; I would be in charge of the indoor items (cooking steak fries, preparing the hamburgers) and John would be responsible for the outdoor items (the actual grilling).  As an added treat, I even baked some chocolate chip cookies!  

The burgers turned out great!  Along with the steak fries, John grilled portobello mushrooms and zucchini--which we passed over in favor of the massive burgers and fries.  The courtyard of our building was nicely lit; the landscaping plus the lighting (all John's doing) made for a beautiful evening outdoors.  

So there we were.  After a pleasant Saturday afternoon at Black's and a nice Sunday evening here at home, I'd say this was a break that we both needed.   Just as I'd mentioned in the previous entry, this evening will be another that I'll remember even more given that it's one of our last few summer evenings together.

Naked Paddle ball.

"I'm planning to head over to Black's beach to meet Darren at sunset," John told me on Saturday afternoon.  "You wanna come along?" 

At that moment, I really didn't know if I was up for Black's beach.  Sure, we always have a great time when we go.  And our friend, Darren is always a pleasure to be with.   With Saturday being as muggy outside as it was, it was pretty certain that the beach wouldn't be too crowded.  Not to mention, we'd been to Black's beach twice this whole summer.  I was still hesitant though.

But while John stood on the stairs, waiting for me to respond, all I could think to say was, "Possibly."  

A quick trip to North Park for a haircut and by the time I was riding my bike back home, I was definitely in the mood to go to the nude beach.  John was in the process of stuffing his backpack full of the necessary nude beach essentials.

"Darren left a message.  He didn't come down this weekend, but he'll be here next weekend," he informed me.  

In other words, it was going to be just he and I.  Interesting.

Like I'd mentioned two entries ago, John and I were talking about ending our relationship.  Neither of us, up to this point had made any drastic moves--well, I'd taken up residence in the downstairs guest bedroom, but other than that, we were still civil and courteous to each other. So there was no need to panic after hearing about Darren's absence.  I decided right then and there that we would have a great time at the beach.  After all, it would probably be our last time here this summer and our last time at Black's beach together.

   After waiting until the last minute, I finally grabbed my beach necessities:  a couple of beers, bottle opener, my iPod, camera,  bottled water, my cigarettes, the current issue of Dwell and of course, some pot.  Backpacks finally packed; we were ready to go.  

Downstairs in the parking garage, John made a quick dash to our storage cage.  

"I figured we could play paddle ball while we're there," he said while holding up the large wooden paddles.   The paddles went in the trunk, along with our backpacks and we were on our way to La Jolla.  The coast was nice and there was a light breeze coming in off of the ocean.  A few paragliders touching down at Torrey Pines as we parked the car and started walking towards the cliff steps.  Rather than taking the rigorous 'goat trail' down to the beach, we opted to take the steps.  Getting down to Black's beach is an adventure in itself!  This time, however, rather than taking the trail with its sharp turn offs and slippery markings, the stairs proved to be the better choice.  By the time we hit beach level, John and I were talking and still in good spirits while we headed north to the nude and gay section of the beach.  

Luckily, it wasn't too crowded.  There was a thick marine layer over the water and beach, but that didn't stop people from strolling through.   With the exception of a few daring surfers, there was no one in the water. 

We found our spot, unpacked our things and immediately stripped down.  I love being naked at Black's.  I can't understand people who go through the trouble of getting to the beach--only to stay clothed.  Even though there was cloud cover and a slight breeze coming off of the ocean, it still felt great.  I opened one of the beers, lit a cigarette and completely relaxed.  John and I chatted for a while before he decided to stroll down the beach.  With him gone, I put the cigarette out and pulled out my pipe and the stash of pot that I'd packed.  

There were too many guys strolling up and down the beach as they would on a day that was more sunny.  But there were a few.  Nothing too impressive, but nonetheless fun to watch while toking.  John was gone for about 20 minutes before I saw him in the distance, heading back to our spot.  

"Can I have some of that?"  He asked, once he'd settled back on to his beach towel.  For the record, John is not a pot smoker.  It makes his muscles ache, he once told me.  He has, however, on a couple of occasions actually took a few pulls from a bong; now here we were at the beach, about to get smoked out together.  

"You know," he said after taking a hit from my pipe.  "I've never smoked out of your pipe." 

The pipe passed back and forth between us and within a few minutes of smoking, we were stoned.  Then, he suggested we play paddle ball.  

"Before we get all lazy and shit."  He explained.  

Stoned.  Naked.  We got up, paddles in hand and started serving the small rubber ball between us.  It was fantastic!  The last time we were at Black's, I played naked frisbee with a friend of mine.  That was great, but this--this was fantastic.  Naked paddle ball.  We were lucky that it wasn't too hot, so we were able to play for quite a long time without breaking into a sweat.  

We ended up staying at Black's beach for almost 4 hours.  Feeling refreshed and worked out, we grabbed our things and started walking back down the beach towards the cliff steps.  

Like I said, we always have a great time whenever we come here.  But for some reason, I think this trip with John will be the one that I'll always remember.  

Smoking the scholarship money.

Late yesterday afternoon, I got an email from the Honors Office at City college.  I was the recipient of a Presidential Scholarship.  And there was money attached to it.  Almost instantly, the only thing I could thing of was exactly which president was handing me a scholarship.   As it turns out, it was the school's president.  I had received it, along with some other students whom I'm friends with.  

 I can't begin to tell you how fortunate that was.   Hell, I've been broke for what seems like years now.  So you can imagine, in my mind, this scholarship money--regardless of how much it actually was, it was a good as spent.  And I didn't even have it yet! 

Seeing as it was late in the day, I knew the office where I was supposed to pick it up was closed.  So, I made plans to ride my bike down to the campus first thing this morning.  First thing in the morning turned out to be closer to eleven.   By the time I left the Associated Students office, I had a certificate and check in hand.  

One hundred and fifty dollars.  

Instantly, I started calculating.  Donovan's birthday was Monday and seeing as there would be no way I could get a gift in the mail and to him by then.  Cash for that.  Twenty bucks for a hair cut and before I knew it, according my calculations--while standing in front of the bike rack, by the time I was finished, I would be broke again.  

In addition to Donovan's cut of the free money, I was planning to buy some pot as well.   Hooray---POT!  I figured, if I'm going to be broke, starting the break up process, all while trying each and every day to keep it all together, I was going to be stoned while doing it.