Captain’s Log

Just checking in.. How is life?
Wow, it’s April! I’d say that I was enjoying the weather and such, but it’s been cold. We have warm days here and there but be sure to bring your jacket. I’m looking forward to warmer weather.

How is the RV lyyyfffeee?
It’s going! The newness has worn off which is a good thing. One of the more valuable lessons I’ve confirmed is that you really can’t prepare for the unknown. Thankfully a majority of the planning that went into the change went well! Space and storage is always a concern. I’ve gotten rid of so much, and I still feel as if there are things that don’t have utility or bring me joy. Pairing down clothing is one of the more significant challenges. You really have to stay on top of chores or your place will become hectic in short order.
I’ve mounted the Xbox to the back of the swiveling TV stand, added an outdoor motion activated solar light, hid the Apple TV and I have some electrical upgrades to stuff the NAS, Router into the bathroom closet storage, out of the way.

Challenges?
Finalizing moving out of the old place before I run out of time is a challenge. There are so many bad memories there, bad juju if you will. I really don’t need anything that is left in there, which further demotivates me. I have decided to keep the furniture, for now, it’s all pretty much new.

Prospects?
I might travel to Dallas in May for a bit, alone. Thankfully I’ll be there before the thick summer heat takes hold. Managing anxiety will be challenging, but manageable. I believe that the key is to stay excited about it. I made the trip on the way to California, twice, when I was a youngster.

Etc?
I’ve been less energetic. After hitting 26 days of doubling my daily move calorie consumption, I pretty much willfully succumbed to inactivity. It’s time to ramp back up again!

She makes me feel extensional, in all of the right ways

Queer, Vegan, Feminist. Three words, three labels that I was unsure of. Such words invoke a sense of intensity. Feminism, such a label I was unsure of within myself.

Vulnerability. Creativity. Hugs/Physicality. Best friends. Intimacy. Stories. Radical notions. Openness. Meditation. Vulnerability. Tacos.
The queer label is a misnomer. A label to end all labels. Contradiction. A writer. A poet. I was interested.Eye contact. The first thing I noticed. So much intensity. So much vulnerability. So much was left unsaid. Empath. Reading between the lines.

There is something to be said about someone that you can feel instantly comfortable around. Someone who transcends through your barriers, your walls so easily as if they weren’t even there.

I see you in your queer sexy masculinity paired with feminine feelings and movements and that you hug me small and in all your vulnerability.

Communication. So. Much. Communication. Intensity, but in all of the right ways. Boundaries. Healthy independence.

 

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A refocusing of this blog

It’s difficult to know how much you should share in a public space, at least in one that you are willing to share that is associated with your name. Coworkers, family members, friends, enemies, oh my.
Vulnerability is important, but not everyone should be let in. Some things are better left unsaid.
Today I launch a secret blog.. YES A SECRET BLOG. Wait, no. I don’t like that. How about an anonymous blog? Yes, that’ll do. It isn’t secret, it’s publicly available on the internet. It isn’t secret to those who matter.
I do have some goals I’d like to set for this one:

  • Featured images, consisting of my own work from now on
  • “Safe for work” content. Would I share what I’m writing with friends, family members?

That’s about it. Boom. Enjoy.

Lilac and gooseberries

Masculinity. Femininity.
Quagmire of emotion.
Goosebumps, gasps.
Boundaries, rules.
Walls, tumbling down.
The dam breaks,
the chasm overflows.
Dilated pupils.
Lilac and gooseberries.
Becoming.

Planted

You watch as I unfold
Flower petals brushing the wood 
floors I stand upon, barefoot
Dusty with my voice box 
but easy with my overflow
I can map my body
I can connect the dotted lines
of my freckles
point to what hurts
trace the parts that feel like sun
here is my river water
here are the eroded rocks
here are all the things I want to become
and am becoming
watch my telephone wires fall to the asphalt
then rise back up again, reconnected
I can bend myself backwards
while maintaining eye contact
do you know how many leaves
must fall from an oak before it is bare?
I am always giving myself away
to the cloud dust
to the seashells
to the places I have never been but lust
after in the dark of the night
pouring over images of mountains and streams
cacti, flocks of birds, bright painted buildings
there was once a girl that wrote a story
and in it, we were looking underneath lilypads
and her words were pretty and emotional and right
but you are real
you are not mist rising over a field
you are firmly present, planted, happening.
– Anonymous