2014年08月28日 Jealous enough to liquor

Probably one of the more terrifying things a man can experience is jealously. 

This jealously is never healthy for people who are fanatics like myself. My tendencies evolve jealously into problematic and destructive things. For some jealousy is healthy for a relationship, but for me it isn't.

Case number 03189:

I walk into a bar with a friend - he's gay, so what? - and I run into a woman that I have been attracted to over the last year or longer. She's a warm person, if that warmth happened to be in a sauna located in the arctic circle. A complicated woman with many layers. We met online, talked on the phone and went on a few dates, but I don't think she likes younger men (I'm 28 and she's 37). Nothing happened, but we've kept in contact sporadically.

Anyhow, she spots me and waves me over to hug her, which is something I've never done before with her.

"Nice to see you again, but I'm here to get drunk. You look a little busy, so nice seeing you!" 

I said. And that was that. 

There were Wild Turkey shots waiting for me in the lounge area, and not the bar/restaurant area where she was sitting in a red-dress. No I wasn't going to lollygag around waiting to get booze and losing my buzz in the process, even briefly. 

No. Ladies and Gentlemen, and Invited Transgender Species* I was there to drink and hang out. So for me, mission accomplished. Okay, and maybe get laid at some point too, but that's a different story.

So a week passes by and I catch the red-dress woman online, where she brought up my friend. She said that when she hugged me, my guy friend looked jealous as hell.

And her message was expounded with,

"I could feel it, he was not very happy about my existence there." 

I agreed, but at that time when she saw him in the bar I was preoccupied with getting drunk (though I didn't). I was even startled to see her there, since I had strong feelings for her, yet I knew of an answer that could quickly change these feelings.

The Wild Turkey drenched jealously away, at least for me though I didn't seem to have any. If anything seeing her smile at me was like a reminder of wearing a Scarlet Letter, except mine would have been an "S" for spurned. 

You can smell Wild Turkey once the smokey flavors get within a few inches of your nose. Soon after pressing the shot glass to your lips, you begin to start closing your eyes. The glass bottom tipped up towards the ceiling, and then dropping the solution down into your mouth. Like most medicine it tastes like shit, at first; but when the taste-buds adjust, the feeling is different. A few times in my life I had adjusted my feelings to the taste, and while that was a long time ago I at least wrote significantly more.

Not a quitter

Like the jealously of my gay-friend, the feeling did adjust, once he finished his shot sipping it slowly.

I paid, feeling cocky I left 30 percent tip. We left through the lounge entrance and walked around downtown towards the water. Once there we found more places to drink. He invited me to a gay bar. I don't care: they usually have cheaper drinks.

There I drowned out my feelings, be them jealous or not.

I was jealous enough to liquor out of my life, until I woke up the next day.

*To quote Lieutenant Commander Data

2012年4月22日 ABV #0002

I wrote over 900 words (I know, I word counted) in 10 minutes about how I felt about conversation and what it means when someone says, "Don't interrupt me." Frankly speaking I'll save that post for anyone day.

It's a celebration bitches! (url)

Today we celebrated Fozzjnen's birthday, even though today isn't the exact day. Frankly speaking who gives a shit? 

As Fozzjnen said in the sauna, "This (being in sauna) makes me feel like I'm at home." As four of us buzzed, albeit less than the birthday boy, celebrated the evening and his birthday while naked (in his sauna). I can't tell you what it's like. But it's not alien. What's alien is not being in the sauna, and not being at home. Everyone in the sauna told Fozzj that "You are home!" Because it's time that he doesn't have to worry about anything like that. 

It's time that he realizes this is the choice he made, especially since now that he has a son, career is set in stone (more or less), he doesn't have to leave or feel alien anymore. He just has to keep finding more stones and keep writing his future down: we're here for him. We can look for more stones, but of course we don't get to fashion them or write shit down for him, that's his job, although I'm sure he'll ask if he can type it instead of chiseling. Actually the same could be said of my own life, or maybe even yours. We get to decide where home is, and if we don't feel like this is home, why are we making this place home? should be a serious question that's asked, as an adult, at least once a week.

It was nice to share a good evening with him, even though at some point he got as violent as my mom when she was drunk listening to Tracy Chapman. But that wasn't the issue, that's another issue, a fearful issue. It reminded me of someone else I know. A person who said they want to hurt other people so they can be stopped. It was hard to watch a part of this with Fozzjnen, but frankly speaking I know it's more of a Fight Club thing. Because with Fight Club at least there is a moment where the destroyer says exactly what's wrong, and the - spoiler alert - other guy (who is an alternate ego to the destroyer) says (to himself) "Where'd you go psycho boy?" But this shit doesn't matter, because it's just a small part.

The issue, beyond smidgen of Fozz's above-mentioned stress, is that those who weren't there were missing out on a secret road of life. If you don't go into the hills, in a certain location, how the fuck can you see the full view of the city? Now of course, I told you how! Go to the hills! But what about going to yourself? Overlooking your own hills in life? Sauna can help, or meditation? Sauna-meditation?!

Takes a special kind of man
to drink naked next to his friend

In our case? Well first and foremost, the beer helped, but really what helped was the nakedness. With the nakedness there were no more illusions. We didn't subscribe to bullshit anymore, titles, money, whatever. We were all equal for a moment or so, as the sauna got hotter and steam burned the "scalp" of the "Silver Fox" - shit you not Fozzjnen called him that - next to me. As SF griped, I ended up smiling since the steam in the sauna is like another way to show fun. You don't have to lie to yourself anymore when you're in the sauna or anyone else for that matter.

I shit you not, being in a sauna and letting go of the bullshit in life is so important, so much so that at least 70 percent of the time this importance reminds me of the value of hope. I can tell you I have shared the sauna with a lot of different people, even with a distant cousin: the Japanese onsen, but those who can't get over the nakedness have something seriously wrong in my opinion. Why? Because if you're only worried about being naked and it's not a religious thing, then really it's just another bullshit limitation.

That's what I discovered today, not another bullshit limitation, but a way to go beyond the bullshit limitations. And what better way than to watch that limitation whither, when Fozzjnen celebrates his birthday by getting a birthday hug from his son. Of course beering it up later and sharing life helped too. Honesty tends to do that. But this honesty isn't the shameful honesty of being honesty with strangers and not those close to us, it's being honest with ourselves, without the illusions. 

It was nice and wonderfully raw. 

Until I was kicked in the head by Fozzjnen when I bent down to stretch my knee.
Beer does that to people sometimes.

2012年4月18日 ABV #0001

Sometimes, during drinking my eyes feel heavy. Like wearing a lead vest during an X-ray, we wonder if it's the weight or if it's the comfort of the weight that makes us sleepy. Actually I don't give a fuck what it makes you feel, but it makes me feel sleepy, or rather comfortable enough to get sleepy, except I'm worried about being molested by the attendant taking the x-rays. It feels good to feel sleepy. It feels good to feel good while feeling sleepy. You have no idea what it feels like to be able to be so happy and yet so tired. No one has any idea, except Wainwright that guy buzzes out pretty fast.

***

What happens when the weight is from something else? What happens when the weight feels good? The right amount of pressure? Pressurized cabin? How the fuck did someone figure out how much physical pressure my body likes? Didn't they know I prefer blanket first? That and more beer on this flight, thank you.

Did I have 9 or 10 en route to Japan, I can't even remember. I think it was nine. Good start. I could hear part of my dad talking to me in the back of my head.

Breathing in, my eyes roll back. I think it flashed white briefly. I don't know. Everything seems labored. It's even better when it's just the right amount of labor. When it feels like a large eagle has decided to rest on my nape, while stretching his wings. It has to be a he. Why? Because I said so. However, if the eagle is spread eagle on my shoulders, then it's a she. Because a dude spreading eagle on my shoulders requires some money first.

Gary sings in the background as I look towards the vacant kitchen. I have not been this hungry is long time, I have no idea why.

My phone vibrates and a message shows up:

"Good for you. After an incident Saturday night, I'm actually contemplating getting one. I feel like a hypocrite."

Do you want mine? You can borrow it. 

For as long as you need.

Just don't fucking sell, that's my job.

Because I need beer, or rather I need to slow down sometimes.
Sometimes I'm moving too fast.