Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Category: Men

  • Coming Out and Coming to Terms with Me

    A friends brother came out recently after many years of being closeted and she wanted to talk to me about how that kind of thing can happen… so I wrote this long email to her and decided I should put it here too.

    Long before I had any notion of what it meant to be gay I found men attractive (especially bearded, hairy men). When I’d play with my superhero figures it was usually Batman and Superman that were kissing – Wonder Woman was nowhere to be found, it could be that I didn’t have Wonder Woman… who would buy a boy Wonder Woman in the 70s? We were actually pretty poor and I don’t recall having Superman and Batman dolls so that was all in my imagination… so I could have thought of Wonder Woman, but she didn’t come up.

    It didn’t take long to see how homosexuals were portrayed on TV and in movies and even though I couldn’t identify as one yet, I was suddenly much more aware of how limp my wrist was or how I walked, talked and dressed, I’d seen the way other people (my parents, TV stars, school kids) talked about gay people and I didn’t want them to talk about me like that so I was very careful at a very young age to not show too many signs… lol, seems silly to me now. Elementary school and high school gym class and shower rooms were very uncomfortable and i would get out of there as soon as possible, not looking at anything because I knew I might get excited and then I’d be discovered, the worst were the gym teachers and coaches – with their hairy arms and full bodies… just don’t look, just don’t look.

    When I was around 12 or 13 an adult friend of my mother seduced me and took me – and several other kids in our small town – as his own for his pleasure. That was more secretive than being gay and exciting too. Finally the things I couldn’t really put into words or thoughts in my head were happening and it felt good but it felt bad too and it was a struggle to get through with that. It didn’t help that at that point I didn’t have any positive male figures in my life, all my mothers husbands beat her and were drunk no one I wanted to be like. This was the first time I had been loved, that I could tell, by another man.

    When the adult that molested me was caught they sent us to therapy, in the 80s at the beginning of the AIDS crisis, what I heard the therapist say was “if you enjoyed any of that than your a sick pervert too and will catch AIDS and die…” again, that’s what I heard what he actually said might have been something very different. But it did instill in me again this feeling that I WAS WRONG, not that there was something wrong with me but I was completely wrong.

    When I was seeing a therapist while in my foster home I was honest with him about my feeling towards other guys and explained I could only get off thinking about guys… he suggested that that was a learned behavior and could be changed… if I wanted to I could imagine cars when I was beating off and after enough time that would change, I was desperate to be normal and not “get AIDS and die” … sadly, thinking about girls, or cars… didn’t seem to do it for me… and wasn’t satisfying, so I gave up.

    Outside of the molestation, I didn’t have sex with anyone until I was 19 or 20. My friends convinced me I had to have sex with a girl so that happened.. but I honestly had to think about a man to perform. It wasn’t enjoyable, it didn’t feel right and it wasn’t something I ever wanted to do again… but my friends were excited for me, I felt they accepted me a little bit more now that I was normal…

    During my first drug and alcohol treatment I discussed my gay thoughts and feelings about it with my counselor… who suggested I might be gay… which I didn’t like very much. How dare he say such a thing! Even though I’d been fighting that very thought for years in my own head. But the thought stuck there and I started to give in – I was a doomed homosexual and the world would hate me.. and the “God” of my understanding was going to condemn me to hell because of something I didn’t have a say about.

    After that treatment, when I was drinking again, a friend offered to let me see if I was really gay by having sex with him… he wasn’t “gay” of course, just doing a favor for a friend… It wasn’t really an enjoyable experience, but he wasn’t exactly my type either. So I didn’t repeat that experiment and it didn’t answer any of my questions about myself really.

    After my second (and hopefully last) treatment visit I decided I was gay, but I didn’t have to act on it… so at night I’d pleasure myself and then ask “God” as I understood him, to forgive me for being a monster… every night, again and again…

    At that time, the mid 90s, the internet was pretty new so there weren’t the massive amounts of gay sites there are now… so I did this Phone Bank thing where you could listen to guys on voicemail like things and then hook up… the closest city was Minneapolis/St Paul and I found a guy that I was interested in base mostly on his voice – he didn’t sound “gay”. I told my two best friends I was going to my Ma and I told my Ma that I was going to a conference – this is me in early AA lying… even though I know I have to be honest about everything to stay sober… and I went up to the Twin Cities and had the best time ever with this guy who was very patient, gentle, understanding and virile… OMG VIRILE, insatiable event. Then I was being destroyed by the lie… I felt so horrible for the lie but felt so right about what I had done… it was so conflicting, so I told my two best friends that I lied to them and told them the truth about me, which they knew anyway, but it felt better to be honest.

    one of those two best friends was moving to Washington DC and told me that I had to come with “Eau Claire WI is no place for a gay boy to be” and I jumped at the chance, but mostly to get out of WI, it wasn’t about exploring being gay at all. When I told my co-workers I had to tell them something (that I was leaving) one of them said “You’d better not be coming out, you fucking faggots all need to die”

    When I did get to DC it was amazing: guys were holding hands with one another ON THE STREET, for that matter, there were other races and some of them were holding hands with other races and some of them were gay or lesbian… I didn’t know what the hell was going on… it was so cool but I didn’t think you could do those things…

    Shortly after moving there I was walking down 17th street, minding my own business and a car of a bunch of kids drove by and tossed a half-full beer can at me yelling “fucking faggot”… so there was that, this hatred of me for being me was everywhere not just in my head or in small town America, even in our nations capital.

    I learned more and more about gay people and our history the longer I was in DC. I became more and more comfortable with myself the more I let myself… I came out to my entire family (loved ones) via an email on National Coming Out Day in 1998… and later that year I came out to my mother by wearing a t-shirt that said something clever like “my boyfriends mother doesn’t know I’m gay” or some such… she was not amused 😉

    I’m a typical gay man, because I happen to like having sex with other gay men… but in other senses I’m not a typical gay man. I don’t care about the Tony Awards or Liza Minnelli, I’m not a fan of drag shows or say “fabulous” a lot… but not all straight people like NASCAR or Fox News or find Rhiana attractive… I’m an individual who finally came to terms with being who I am after much trial and error. Are there still times I feel hated by others? sure. Are there times I hate myself? not so much anymore. I think I’m fortunate to live in these times when people start to realize that there are more than one kind of love, more than one kind of relationship in the world… To come out today with all the wonderful things happening for gay people … well it would have been a great time to get to know myself… but I wouldn’t trade the struggles I had for an easier softer way, those struggles shaped me into the man I have become and I like him… I wouldn’t date him, not my type at all 😀

  • My Take on Man of Steel – SPOILERS

    I’ve heard a lot of differing opinions on the new Superman movie Man of Steel and wanted to share my thoughts on the movie with you. This post will be full of spoilers and if you’ve not seen it yet don’t bitch to me about things you didn’t know…

    OK?

    OK? OK?

    Really now, I’m about to talk about the movie…. so this is your last chance!

    Here I go…. this time I mean it….

     

    Man of Steel – a review by Jamez

    First off, I loved Krypton and everything about it. I found it visually pleasing and loved Russell Crowe as Jor-El and not just because he’s so fucking sexy and that accent makes my knees wobble… he just played the part well and I liked it. We were introduced to the villain really quickly which pleased me. I loved the technology on Krypton, the robots were great.

    On Earth we jumped forward and backward in time with Clark and I didn’t mind that at all, I heard some people complain that it was confusing – which baffles me, here he’s young, here he’s old… how hard can this be? I found Clark’s struggles with having his powers growing up to be a great part of the story and how he came to deal with those powers over time was easily explained but I didn’t put certain things together until later.

    It was nice to see the parts of Clark that were very human – anger, sadness, confusion, compassion for others form into what is going to make him a great hero one day. Those things are in all of us, even Superman, and sometimes can be a struggle to get through. Pa Kent (Kevin Costner) and Ma Kent (Diane Lane) were cast well – I disagreed with Pa Kent’s decision in the end and not sure that was to character, for me Pa always loved Martha and Clark so much I can’t see him just letting go like that.

    I liked how he found the Kryptonian ship in Canada but it puzzled me how he found it there… I know we heard the one story on the radio or TV but he seemed to be heading that way all along. We also were introduced to Lois (Amy Adams) up there as well as Emil Hamilton (Richard Schiff)… I’m not sold on Amy Adams as Lois, but honestly it didn’t really matter to me who it was, that part was minimal in my eyes.

    I saw absolutely no need for the Daily Planet sub story, I love Laurence Fishburn, but didn’t feel he added to the story as Perry White.

    The things I’ve heard most talked about negatively in the movie were the killing of Zod and the long fight scene.

    First, Zod. I had avoided any reviews or spoilers as best I could so I didn’t know this was going to happen. A friend points out that a more experienced Superman would have found a different way to stop Zod and that seems pretty logical to me. When it happened I was really stunned for a moment – Superman doesn’t kill is a mantra that runs through my head when I read Superman stories in comics or see him in the cartoons. But I recall he once did kill, I can’t recall the story very well but I know it bothered him immensely and he took steps to recover from that – what I felt the movie didn’t do well was show the repercussions of taking a life and the toll it can take on someone who has a soul, a heart if you will, as big as Superman. It felt like Zod was dead, Supes screamed and then boom he was making snarky remarks to the military guy. Maybe I’ll see the fall out in the sequel, which would make me pretty happy.

    Secondly, the big bad fight at the end. So much destruction, is what I heard, was it really necessary? I don’t know. For me it was appropriate – you have a group of aliens hell bent on terraforming the planet and killing all of us who will stop at nothing to do so. There machines were doing a fairly great job of that on there own. I NEEDED a Superman movie where he actually punched things – I needed the fight to be fast and furious with destruction. Again, a more experienced Superman would have taken the fight out of the city, but he had just put on the cape and boots. I don’t know how long this fight scene was but I don’t really think it was much different than the Avengers end fight scene which had just as much destruction and aliens causing chaos. What I did like about the fight was showing how much destruction had been caused – it’s so easy to read these fights in the comics or see them on the cartoons and see just a superhero being thrown through a wall with no one getting hurt and the building always left standing that realism was good for my experience.

    I saw it twice in a two day span – the first time was in 3D which I found to be a waste of money – not enough was done for it to be so. The second time in 2D was just as good.

    In my opinion, this is the best Superman movie to date (I don’t say “of all time” because time isn’t over yet). I’m a fan of the Christopher Reeves movies, I loved them back in the day. I think Superman Returns was a nostalgic movie more about an actor that looked like Christopher Reeves than a Superman movie, and that’s sad, there were parts of it that I liked and parts that I didn’t. This movie the parts that I didn’t like were minimal and nit picky… one of the last scenes ins a flash back to young clark on the farm outside of Smallville wearing a cape and acting like Superman… which really couldn’t have happened and bugged me, but I can look past that and see this movie for what it was – the Superman movie i’d been waiting for.

     

     

     

  • Misreading People

    I’m not very good at reading people I guess. Recently two things happened that I didn’t expect based on how a person reacted with me.

    When I interviewed for my current job in Arizona I did video (Skype) interviews and on more than one occasion my interviewer (now one of my bosses) leaned away from the camera and crossed her arms – I thought for sure she didn’t want me to have the job. Having been on this job for a couple of months now I see that she does that in all kinds of different circumstances and I’m not sure why.

    Saturday afternoon I had a date and I told the guy he was handsome – he didn’t respond… I’m like WTF am I hideous? Then later he did the same thing as my boss – he leaned away from me and crossed his arms and I thought it was over… five minutes later he invited me to his house to go swimming and the rest is censored… 😉

    I think its easy to look at something and see something that isn’t true at all about it, I should know better. I’ll have to judge people based on their actual actions not just their body language in any given situation.

    On a side note a woman on the sober bowling league last week pulled me aside and said: You’re gay aren’t you.

    I wasn’t even wearing a rainbow shirt or anything… but yes, I told her – I’m gay. I think she and I will become friends over time here, she’s crazy and that’s the type of friend I tend to attract (no offense intended if you’re a friend reading this… but honestly… your crazy 😀 )

    I’ve had a couple of dates here and only one that I really enjoyed. I will continue to have dates and see if there is anyone I like enough to see more than a few times but I don’t have any expectations.

     

  • Frank Ocean in the Barber Shop

    Today in the barber shop as Frank Ocean was playing in the background one barber said to the other “I disagree with his lifestyle, but man can that dude sing. I love his songs.” to which the other barber (My barber) said “his songs are just everything”.

    I don’t think the barber really disagrees with his lifestyle at all. I’m sure he’d love to go to the fancy parties, the award shows and rub elbows with the rich and famous. I’m sure the money would feel just as good in his hands and buy him all the clothes, cars and people he wanted. All the girls and boys would want to meet him, hang out with him and bend their ear to his every whim…

    The truth is the thought of one man sucking on another mans cock is not really his idea of a good time and hey, that’s ok he may be into all kinds of weird ass shit in the bedroom that I don’t want any part of too. If the thought of two men together in bed bothers you – quit thinking about it. If you like Frank’s music just groove to it and let it be what it is – powerful music.

    Frank Ocean isn’t on our TVs or computers sucking cock. He’s not down on his knees on the red carpet. He’s just out there telling stories in songs and what good songs they happen to be. It shouldn’t matter one bit what his sexual orientation is if you like his music – I listen to all kinds of straight artists and don’t hold it against them (a few I’d like to hold against me) I just enjoy their music and stories for what they are.

    Personally, I don’t want the celebrity lifestyle myself – who on Earth wants that many people poking their noses into your business? Not I.

  • My Appendix

    I had my appendix taken out on Tuesday night at Washington Hospital Center, I feel much better already.

    Sunday night, January 6, 2013 as I sat on my bed to go to sleep i felt a weird twinge in my belly area – just found it weird, didn’t think about it too much and went to sleep.

    Monday my stomach/side ached most of the day. Nothing to keep me from work or anything, just annoying. It did actually start to hurt more and more as the day went by. I ate a couple times, hoping that would help, and actually didn’t have dinner wasn’t hungry. I was just over the whole achy thing and went to bed around 9:30.

    At around 12:30 I woke up to extreme pain in my right side – I went to the toilet, hoping maybe I just had gas or something, but I couldn’t go. After a few minutes of the pain not going away and the feeling of nausea a couple times I called the Kaiser advice nurse and explained what was going on – she advised me to call 911.

    I called 911 and within five minutes and ambulance arrived in our parking lot. I didn’t know if I was to go out there or if they were to come into my house so I just sat here. They came in and said ok lets go, lol. They took my vitals – I was pretty freaked out not only because of the pain but being in an ambulance really isn’t a fun idea to me and the paramedic guy kept asking me to calm down but it was hopeless. They called in to dispatch and dispatch directed them to Howard University Hospital (HUH). On the way to Howard the Paramedic told me I’d be better off going to Washington Hospital Center (WHC), but they had to go where dispatch sent them.

    At Howard I filled out a simple form and the paramedic told me I could call a taxi and go to WHC if I was waiting to long, he really wanted me to do that – I should have listened I guess. I arrived at HUH around 1:00 sat in the waiting room for 1 1/2 hours and then in a hallway for 2 more hours and had only peed in a cup and given blood. It was around 5:30 when I finally got a bed in a hallway in the ER and another hour or so before anyone came to look at me. I kept whispering “just come fix me, just come fix me” over and over again as I wanted to no longer be in pain so badly. At the shift change I think I finally started to get help a nurse gave me pain medication – I felt very loopy. They gave me an IV for the cat scan or the X-ray machine.

    The results of the cat scan said I didn’t have appendicitis but they were going to ask for a surgery consult just in case – the surgery consult guy was right behind him and came over to examine me – honestly I think it was the first doctor to touch me during this whole time and it was around 9:00 a.m. He was so super sexy, bearded, furry chest hairs peeking through his shirt collar and he was almost positive I had “early appendicitis” and said we’d be having surgery.

    Ana came to visit while I was there, that was nice. I felt like I had been there forever by that point.

    As I have Kaiser insurance they had to get approval to do the surgery there, but that didn’t happen and there were orders to send me to WHC that was around 10:30 a.m. I sat and waited until 2:00 before I was transferred via ambulance. Did you know there are speed bumps on the way to WHC ER? Isn’t that a sweet thing to do to people that are in pain already? geez!

    At WHC I was put in a temporary room for a few hours until they got my permanent room ready. We had a small problem with medications for me, I was in pain again but my SSN kept coming up as James J. Appel and they wanted to make sure I was who I said I was… I think it was 2 hours before I received pain medication at WHC and then they moved me to my permanent room. My permanent room I shared with a 80 year old man who’d never been in a hospital before that he knew of, nice quiet guy. My friend Donna came to visit from CNMC, that was very nice too.

    They started prepping me for surgery around 6 or something. Antibiotic IVs, fluids, pain meds – I should mention they wouldn’t let me eat or drink anything since I got there, I wasn’t hungry but I was very thirsty.

    They rolled me away to the surgery area around 7:30 and I met the people who put you under, they were in good spirits and seemed like nice folks. They asked me about ever having surgery before and I explained that I had lazy eye surgery as a kid and threw up after on my parents – who had tried to feed me McDonalds so really it was their own fault.

    The Operating room was really very cool to look at I loved the look of the lights and the tech they had in there. I kept trying to breathe deeply and my eyes closed when I’d start to think about what was about to happen. I thought someone was pushing my socks up but she was really attaching something that massaged my legs – that was very nice, but honestly freaked me out when it first started. I remember them putting the oxygen on my face but I don’t recall anyone asking me to count backwards or anythings.

    I woke up and needed to pee and cough and I hurt – and I said all those things and wanted to roll over on my side and they kept saying “no, it’s ok, just stay still” and the feeling that I wanted to pee was apparently the catheter. Then nothing.

    Then I was awakened by a BEEP, BEEP, BEEP and I looking around and was in a new room and someone said I was in the recovery room and I tried to go back to sleep and then BEEP, BEEP, BEEP and again and again… apparently I wasn’t getting enough oxygen and the beeping was to get me to breathe deeper – I made an audible complaint that that was pretty rude thing to do after all I’d been through all I wanted to do was sleep – she laughed at me.

    It wasn’t long before they rolled me back up to my room – 12:30 I was in my own bed. I would fall asleep and they’d come to take vitals or to change my IV or to annoy me. There is very little sleep to be had in the hospital bed – I felt sorry for my roommate.

    They had given me a urinal to pee in while I was in the bed, but nothing I could do would allow urine to flow into that thing in a bed – I tried and tried and tried and nothing. So I got them to let me walk to the bathroom and then there was joyful release! Being hooked up to the IV machine made it difficult to go to the bathroom solo – and I’d press the button for help and they’d say they’d be right there and I’d wait and wait and wait… honestly, Gary Jim and Ana were there during a few of these encounters and actually went off to find someone to help me. Pushing the button was a pointless endeavor the longer I was there the more I realized that. I was really surprised the bathroom didn’t have any grab bars.

    I spent most of the day in and out of consciousness that really coordinated with the pain meds. They wanted me to walk and pass gas so I walked as soon as I could. The passing gas didn’t happen until right before I went home but it did happen – I’ve since pooed too if you were wondering.

    I arrived home last night, Gary came to get me and went to get me medications too. Mouse was happy to see me but not sure why I didn’t pick her up for a hug or play our nightly game. Gary sent me this email while I was still in the hospital:

    “Mouser and I were talking.  I told her you were in the hospital to have surgery and she said that she was in the hospital twice for surgery but no one came to visit her.  She said that when you come home that I should put one of those hoods (he’s referring to the cone of shame) on you like you made her wear and handcuff you so you cannot touch yourself.”

    Standing up, getting up, sitting down all those things currently hurt a little bit. I can sit here and type and have basically no pain at all. Oh and coughing hurts a little too. I have three little bandages on my belly and they shave most of that area, but not all of it so it looks like half of my belly is dirty and it’s going to really itch soon I know it!

    I don’t know if it would have taken less time to just take a cab to WHC when I first got to HUH or not but I think if I ever end up in a similar situation I would go to WHC first.

    There was an outpouring of love and comments and text from friends and family that I truly appreciated – but all of you that kept wanting me to keep you updated with calls or text used up my phone battery that much sooner – thanks! lol

     

  • Deep Thought and the Ultimate Answer

    Today we are officially 42 days away from my 42nd birthday – that’s the more important birthday a person could have… well a person who loves the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and I certainly do.

    42, as you may or may not know, is the answer to Life the Universe and Everything. See when a group of pan-dimensional beings created a computer named Deep Thought which takes 7 1/2 million years to compute the answer they got exactly what they asked for the answer said Deep Thought: 42. Obviously they were a bit confused by this answer and their planet was patiently waiting for an answer with festivities and awe… Fortunately for them Deep Thought knew they wouldn’t be satisfied with the answer and told them of a great computer that could give them the question that would fit the answer to Life the Universe and Everything. Deep Thought even helped them design that computer and that computer is called “Earth”.

    Now Earth, according to the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy a truly wonderful, totally amazing piece of technology – at first with the following description: “Harmless”. But after Ford Prefect had visited the planet he managed to add to the description, thankfully, and it now says “Mostly Harmless” (obviously the writers had seen the US Congress in action).

    Well as it turns out the day before Earth was to finally release the Ultimate Question to the Ultimate answer to Life, the Universe and Everything it is destroyed to make way for a hyper-space bypass – if you’re not expecting these kinds of things to happen, you’re really not prepared to live in the universe with the rest of us.

    Now there really were really only two instances that anyone actually said they knew what the Question was… one was Marvin the depressed robot, one of the most wonderful characters in all literature, who said he could see the answer imprinted on Arthur’s brain (see Arthur was on the planet/computer Earth seconds before it was destroyed, fortunately for him he got to listen to Vogon poetry instead of dying horribly… well I guess that’s really a matter of taste, like any poetry really. And in the book Life the Universe and Everything Prak, a man who knows all that is true, confirms that 42 is indeed the answer and one would assume that if Prak knows all that is true he would also know for certain what the question was.

    Anyway, back to my birthday which as I mentioned earlier is 42 days from now, I plan to celebrate in style. I’m flying to Las Vegas for a conference about the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous. (You should note that the Big Book, Alcoholics Anonymous, references the number 42 in the chapter There is a Solution – coincidence? I think not. I have tickets to see the Cirque du Soleil show Ka at the MGM Grand and  reservations at  Craftsteak and a date local guy there.

    I will have a freshly inked tattoo from my friend Matt at Jinx Proof tattoos in Georgetown – Matt is designing it and is fully aware of the importance of 42 and it’s significance  to the universe so it might incorporate a lot of things including, but not limited to: two white mice, at towel, the words “Don’t Panic” (which are written on the cover of each Hitchhikers Guide to Galaxy)… well, we’ll see what he comes up with in a few days.

    So happy start to my birthday celebration to one and all, I know you’ve all been waiting for this day all your lives and I thank you for being so patient. If we don’t make it through the end of the year (perhaps they’ll come and destroy our planet to make way for a hyper-space bypass) I hope to see you all at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe if not before then.

    Below you’ll find a few cultural references to the number 42 (from wikipedia):

    On the Internet

    The number 42 and the phrase, “Life, the universe, and everything” have attained cult status on the Internet. “Life, the Universe, and Everything” is a common name for the off-topic section of an Internet forum and the phrase is invoked in similar ways to mean “anything at all”. Many chatbots, when asked about the meaning of life, will answer “42”. Several online calculators are also programmed with the Question. If you type the answer to life the universe and everything into Google (without quotes or capitalising the small words), the Google Calculator will give you 42, as will Wolfram’s Computational Knowledge Engine.[18] Similarly, if you type the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything into DuckDuckGo, the 0-click box will read “42”.[19] In the online community Second Life, there is a section on a sim called “42nd Life.” It is devoted to this concept in the book series, and several attempts at recreating Milliways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe, were made. In Facebook Chat there is an emoticon for 42 created by typing :42: .

    Shortly after Adams died in 2001, the Darwin Awards Forums announced that, in his honour, the number of posts required for a member to get out of “newbie” status would henceforth be decreased from 50 to 42.

    In the OpenOffice.org software, if you type into any cell of a spreadsheet =ANTWORT(“Das Leben, das Universum und der ganze Rest”), which means the answer to life, the universe and everything, the result is 42.[20]

    ISO/IEC 14519-2001/ IEEE Std 1003.5-1999, IEEE Standard for Information Technology – POSIX(R) Ada Language Interfaces – Part 1: Binding for System Application Program Interface (API), uses the number ’42’ as the required return value from a process that terminates due to an unhandled exception. The Rationale says “the choice of the value 42 is arbitrary” and cites the Adams book as the source of the value.

    The random seed chosen to procedurally create the whole universe including all the regions, constellations, stars, planets, moons and mineral distribution of the online massively multi-player computer game EVE Online was chosen as 42 by its lead game designer in 2002.[21]

    Cultural references

    The Allen Telescope Array, a radio telescope used by SETI, has 42 dishes in homage to the number.[22]

    In the TV show Lost, 42 is the last of the mysterious numbers, 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42. In an interview with Lostpedia, producer David Fury confirmed this was a reference to Hitchhiker’s.[23]

    The TV show The Kumars at No. 42 is so named because show creator Sanjeev Bhaskar is a Hitchhiker’s fan.[24]

    The band Coldplay‘s album Viva la Vida includes a song called “42“. When asked by Q magazine if the song’s title was Hitchhiker’s-related, Chris Martin said, “It is and it isn’t.”[25]

    The band Level 42 chose its name in reference to the book.[26]

    The episode “42” of the British science fiction television series Doctor Who was named in reference to the Answer. Writer Chris Chibnall acknowledged that “it’s a playful title”.[27]

    Ken Jennings, defeated along with Brad Rutter in a Jeopardy match against IBM‘s Watson, writes that Watson’s avatar which appeared on-screen for those games showed 42 “threads of thought,” and that the number was chosen in reference to this meme.[28]

  • Men – Eye of the Beholder

    I’ve been thinking recently about what I find attractive in a man. Partly because as I age I’m gaining more and more of the qualities that I like to see in others. It really isn’t just about what’s swinging between his legs … no really.

    Immediately I notice and am attracted to men with facial hair, but not really long beards or funky sideburns from the 70s. This attraction increases significantly if they have gray hair, it’s always been this way, just something about a man with a gray beard or goatee turns the right knob in my system… heh heh, I said knob.

     

    If they have their shirt off I love to see a hairy chest  unless he’s black, it’s the only exception, I love the look of a black man with a hairless chest, i think that’s weird but there you have it. 

     

     

    They can have a full head of hair or be bald or have a shaved head all that is good, but i’m not a fan of long hair on a guy – there are exceptions to this rule

    1 exception
    yummy

    Generally I’m a fan of barrel chested, hairy men – I don’t like them skinny bitches, I do not like them at all. The men can have a belly but no man boobies – that’s a big turn off too. Here is an example of the max amount of man boobies:

    I’d be ok with this

    in a more intimate setting their eyes matter, I love blue and green eyes; love some men in glasses and some men without. The feel of callused, a working mans hands, the smudge and smell of grease and sweat, thick build, tattoos, a rough half-smile, not too cheery, certainly not girly at all.

    probably TMI, but it’s been floating around my head now for a week and it had to come out.

    Me letting the gray beard out

  • My Tattoos

    More than a few men recently have commented on my tattoos (and piercings) and said that having tattoos means your into kinky sex. No really, this is what they keep telling me. This really kind of throws me, I’ve had tattoos much longer than I’ve been having sex. Also I’ve had sex with people who have tattoos and really – a few of those encounters were pretty boring.

    In the gay community over the years they established lots of little tells to let other closeted gays know they were there or what they were into. Rainbow stickers are everywhere now, but 10 – 20 years ago and longer people had to be much more discrete about these type of things so they developed these markers for others. There is even a hanky code for what you might or might not be into – I should warn you clicking on that link might be TMI for you.

    For me it’s about art, about expressing myself and the things I like. Each and every tattoo I have is based on something I like or something that means a lot to me. Superman, lightning bolts, Greek gods, AA, bear paw prints, old nicknames…

    My first tattoo was done by my friend Ted or maybe his brother Tim (I was 14, stoned or drunk and my memory isn’t what it used to be) using a needle, some thread and india ink. That symbol was painfully put on one needle stick at a time and represented the 12 Greek gods. It was crude in comparison to what I have on my body now, but at that age it was pretty cool thing to have.

    Since then I’ve gotten more complicated with what I want on my body – my first tattoo as an adult covered up that tattoo that I got when I was young, but I wasn’t very clear about what I wanted it to be and gave the artist too much leeway so it ended up being a question mark that isn’t really very pretty – it looks better now that I’ve surrounded it by a dragon (which was hand drawn on my arm by this guy at Jinx Proof, so cool. The next was the Superman symbol, then the lightning bolt, armband, bear claw print, tramp stamp (Zeus), AA symbol on my leg, and finally the ancient Greek Gods tat on my back.

    None of those, well except maybe the tramp stamp and the arm band, says anything about sex. Well not that I know of. Its like when I wear a cross necklace – I don’t wear a cross necklace because I believe in crucifying believers – I just happen to like how cross necklaces look sometimes.

    Recently with the Sikh shooter the press has been throwing this statement out there: 

    An agent from the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms told ABC News that the shooter had tattoos.

    Tattoos don’t make a shooter anymore than sandals make a monk. That’s the motivation behind this post (even though I did have several men express that my tattoos meant I was into kinky sex – which I’m not…. well, what did you have in mind exactly? )

    I do sometimes worry about my tattoos and them being misinterpreted by others. Lightning bolts, dragons and Superman can all be associated with the KKK and I keep my head shaved. But really, I’m just an ordinary gay guy that likes tattoos – I have no hidden agendas (well none that I’m ready to share with the world, my manifesto will be on the New York Times Best Seller list – I’m certain) or particular hates of any kind of people. I dislike humans in general, but I don’t target specific groups to hate, really it takes too much effort.

    I just really don’t like when we associate bad/stupid/moronic/crazy people with what they wear or how they look. After the Aurora shootings movie theaters banned folks from wearing masks when going to the theater – the guy who shot those people didn’t buy a ticket, he came in through the back door. After Columbine schools across the country banned black trench coats. After the Amish school shooting in PA in 2006, our President expressed his concern of school violence (this last one I’m not sure which was the more bad/stupid/moronic/crazy  – the former President or the shooter).

    You know the old saying: don’t judge a book by its cover.

  • Personal Perceptions

    A lot of people have self-image issues. Me too. I can look in the mirror on a given day and see reality has set in.  The image of me that I have in my mind is of a 12 year old boy. Skinny, 70s haircut (in the early 80s), bell bottom or high water pants, hand-me-down shirt, tobacco stains on my teeth and fingers. It’s not reality, but it’s the main psychic self image that I project, why? I have no idea. But I rarely think of myself in any other way. The crows feet around my eyes, the gray hair in my facial hair (or even more disturbing the first few times – gray pubic hairs – Oh no!) and on my head, the sagging here or the sagging there… It’s not just the aging thing – it’s comparing ourselves to the outside world or the world of Hollywood. Yeah, that’s a wise move for mental health, comparing yourself to celebrities.

    On Wednesday I dressed up for work, normally I wear jeans and a t-shirt. I had a few errands to run and later would be shopping for a suit at Macy’s so wanted a white shirt on to get the full effect of the image. On the way to the office I had to make a couple of stops, both work related, and was complimented on how I looked by a few different people and even had a few give me the once over. I had my friend take this photo the same day.    While suit shopping after I had left the office two guys flirted with me at Macy’s, and Al at Annie’s was almost in a tizzy and said I looked great – my standard response there is “so you’re saying I look like crap every other day?” Al didn’t take the bait, but said you normally just come in looking “usual”. Hmm, I thought….

    When I had a chance to upload the photo to the iMac I took a look at it and saw all the things that everyone else missed. I see the belly that makes me look a bit pregnant,  a gap in-between my teeth that makes me look rural, the receding gray hairline, and a wrinkly shirt. I don’t usually smile in photos so hate this one just like all the other ones that I smile in. That’s just how I perceive me – I have a poor self body image, so do a lot of folks.

    I went so far as to put this photo on a few online dating sites I frequent and a lot of guys had very nice complimentary things to say about it, a few people who have seen photos I like of myself said they like this photo best – my perception is rarely reality, or maybe these guys have been doing a lot of hallucinatory drugs or losing their vision – I vote for the later.

    I have a friend who is the skinniest person I know who thinks she is fat on occasions, works out constantly and guys cruise her all the time, maybe her self image is of the girl she used to be. I have a friend who’s a big sexy black guy that so self conscious about his body that he wont come to Zumba with me as he thinks folks will not want to see him there – he’s not a freak show, he’s a big sexy guy (lose weight or don’t, you’ll still be sexy), but maybe he can’t get past his self-image – I can’t, so who am I to judge. Yet another friend is trying to grow her hair out after chemo took it all last year, it’s a slow process and the hair is having a mind of it’s own, this frustrates her a lot, but her hair is such a small part of the whole package of her and those of us that know her think she looks great all the time – however I still give her a hard time about the hair, cause I love the reaction.

    We are who we are, whether we can see it in the mirror or our minds eye or not. Should we be healthy, I guess… but even then that may not change how we view ourselves. So I might be getting a belly, might have a gap in my teeth, I certainly have gray hair all over the place. I am who I am, I can change some things about that sure, but I’m probably always going to look inside of myself and see the skinny kid with the welfare glasses and paisley shirt.

  • Joe

    I received news this evening that Joe Appel is “not doing well” and then received confirmation from my brother that he’s dying. Joe Appel was my biological mothers second husband, he’s the father of my little brother Ryan and little sister Amy. For most of my life my last name was Appel, I was adopted by Joe after he married my mother. For all of my childhood Joe was “Dad” at some point I knew he was my adoptive dad. I have some memories of the day that happened, I remember being dressed up in case the judge wanted to talk to me. He was all I knew I had as a Dad.

    Through my memories I see his fists flying into my mother, onto her face, into her body. I see her battered and bruised, I see blood on his fists that is likely hers and not his. I recall night after night of drunkenness where we lie frightened in our bedrooms wondering if tonight would be another night that we’d hear her scream.

    I recall the nights we spent in battered women shelters after one of those incidents – it never occurred to me when I was young, but as I type this and remember that place was full of families just like mine. The strange smells, the odd noises the crying in the cot not three feet from where you were curled up. That was better than the violence in our own home.

    We’d never know when it would be safe to go home, many a time we’d run away Mom and us, to a friends or to a shelter or to Grandmas. One time in particular he threatened to kill the cats if we didn’t come back right then.

    I recall only a few times when his fist hit me, I know he’s beat my brother senseless on many occasions. I don’t know if he hit Amy and Dawn, I have no memory of it happening, but my memories fade more each day.

    I remember distinctly a visit to his parents house where he started to beat on my mom and his family joined in. That was the day they didn’t matter to me anymore.

    He was, is, a monster. He would beat on Mom and then we’d get away or he’d get arrested… but he always came back, like a bad penny. I don’t think he has any remorse or regret for the pain he inflicted – hell I doubt he thinks he did anything wrong at all.

    I can’t say that I’m sorry to hear he’s dying, not when I’ve know good men that have died too young. Why would this bastard son-of-a-bitch get to live this long, drinking every day of his life and beating on people that depended on him as he wanted. Sure he’s spent some time in jail, but not enough. Sure he’s probably had some pain, but not nearly enough. He’s a veteran, doesn’t matter, doesn’t give a license to treat human being that way. He’s sick, doesn’t matter that’s not a get out of jail card either.

    Part of me can’t help but think back on all the times Mom would call from the hospital or the nut house saying “I’m dying” and we’d all rush home to be there and she’d disappoint us again – that sounds harsh no? but that’s what it was at the end for me one more time she couldn’t just go, just quit being sick and tired and go.

    So now I think about Joe, yes, it’s time to die – but there’s no way you’ve suffered enough. No damn way.