white box

People in my past still haunt me. People from grade school, high school, various jobs are with me everyday. Living on and on with me everyday. Real conversations in my head with people I haven't seen or heard from in years, decades. So much of my time living in these scenarios, arguing, laughing, spending time in my head with people who are no longer in my life.

Today, falling into a nap, after watching a Vogue documentary, thinking about a fashion shoot with all of these missing people. Bryan Rooney in Gaultier drag, Jared Schmidt in a cable knit sweater, leather pants, cowboy boots. Tina Casillas in an homage to Elizabeth Taylor. Old schoolmates like 90's supermodels in a huddle, smiling at the camera in Couture. 

Get out of my head! Too much time spent looking up old friends and people I barely knew on Facebook.

Brings me back to wanting a white room, white bed, white sheets. Throw everything away. A lobotomy. Clear it out.

Wallpaper

I love when people are passionate about stuff. I love that Erik fills our house with his passion, Disney. I've always loved Disney since I was little- more Disneyland. I grew up in northern California so we drove down to Disneyland a few times and those are some of the happiest memories of my childhood.

When people are passionate about things you can see their soul light up and you get to bask in the glow. Erik's love for Disney makes him so happy, excited. It gets me excited, excited for him.

I'm very passionate about Martha Stewart. There is truly no one else like her. She creates a fantasy world, much like Disney. I want to live there. In the world of ruthless organization with touches of well thought out whimsy. Clean, perfect, sensible. But this world doesn't exist, even for Martha Stewart. She presents this world. But she doesn't even live there completely. She wants to live there as much as we do.

Martha is great because you can tell that SHE is totally passionate about her interests- food, decor, gardening, the holidays.

Like myself, and Erik (although I don't want to speak for him), I think she is reaching back into her past and trying to relive good memories and maybe wallpaper over some of the bad ones.

Anyway, whatever you love, keep loving it, keep exploring it, and keep loving new things. NEVER EVER let anyone tell you that what you like or what you do is silly. That is a trait I deplore in people. Absolutely deplore. When people do that they are actually telling you how much they hate certain parts of themselves and how desperately they are trying to cover these parts -- and that you should too. Whether it's Martha Stewart or Disney or a balloon fetish keep the things in your life that you love alive and keep growing them and exploring more things. I like when people like things.

Shirtless pics of Joel McHale

I get up early on the weekends. Coffee, cigarettes. Googling my way through the webisphere. Shirtless pics of Joel McHale? Yes please. Free Kittens on Craigslist, Hypomania, will walgreens deliver me things, best wireless blutooth headset.....

Today at 6:34 it rains as the sun comes up very slowly. Thinking about how I should stay far away from any election coverage because it causes me unnecessary depression and ultimately means nothing. Something about how Joe Biden really knocked Paul Ryan on his ass- doesn't mean anything to me. I mean it does, it does too much and that's why I can't watch.

Paul Ryan reminds me of a pervy tech guy. Nothing against tech guys... or pervy guys for that matter. He just reminds me of one of those single guys with no date at your table, divorced, talks to you a little too long, borrows a cigarette, borrows another one, says he doesn't smoke as he smokes, you see him again in the bathroom, "Hey man." You think him antisocial, but then see him on the dancefloor an hour later doing the Chicken Dance as you sit at your table, now alone. Who's antisocial now? More of a go-getter than you thought.

And Barack, and Joe, and Romney and their wives and relatives are all now caricatures. Only a handful of years away from their own reality TV shows.  "Just Malia!" "Ann Romney- My Turn." Interviews with Oprah, ending in an overenthusiastic high five.

I love pop culture, I love all my tv channels, all the ridiculous shows- candy everyone wants. But how does Jeremy get back to nature?

My "safe place," that imaginary calm place you return to in your mind as you fall asleep, is me in the middle of the ocean on a raft- miles away from anything. Laying on my back- floating away from everything and everywhere. No shore in sight. Just me and the water and the depth below, miles and miles down. Away from Melissa Rivers, away from Sandra Lee's Semi Homemade, away from work, Angry Birds, Facebook, Grindr, Sallie Mae's calls. Away from Target, amateur porn, the CTA, Walgreens pharmacy, Starbucks' filled with lonely gay men.

Just me on a raft floating into the unknown. I'll hit shore again, turn on my cellphone and put on my Kenneth Cole shirt and Perry Ellis pants and Zappos dress boots.

Naked on the streets of San Diego

For ten years I have been looking for Chicago's best pizza. Turns out it's a little place called Dominos. I am so sick of cardboard crusts, weird sauce, deep dish diarrhea inducing messes and artisan cheese over an open flame bullshit. Just give me the classic, birthday party pizza. I enjoy Dominos' "Brooklyn Crust" option. More of a New York style pizza, hence the name. I have been to New York twice so I am pretty familiar with their Pizza.

The last time I ordered Dominos, however it came stone cold. I hopped online and read Dominos the riot act. And they put a credit on my tab. I went ahead and reordered the same thing the next night. Having spent all my money on Halloween decorations, a free pizza came in super handy. However, on the phone they told me that there would be a $2.97 delivery fee. Excuse me? Who has $2.97 just laying around? I am not Bill Gates! Jesus Christ!

So, I scrounged around and came up with a dollar and assorted change that I told myself would present itself roughly as "$2.97 and a small tip." I handed my offering to the pizza boy ( who was decidedly less attractive than would have hoped). He gave me a very dissapointed but not uncourteous, "thanks....have a good night..." I didn't give a crap I got my pizza. In my socks and pajamas, I hurried back to Oprah interviewing Jason Russell the "Kony 2012" guy. BTW- I have no sympathy for this guy. I have the explanation to the mystery surrounding his breakdown. He is gay! And you know my unofficial policy- "Gay until proven straight." But this guy is gay as "A Star is Born" is long. He is gay and he was smoking meth and very stressed out- THIS is why he was walking around the streets naked and masturbating in the streets of San Diego. Trust me, I have been there. If you don't believe me - watch "Oprah's Next Chapter." Dear reader, I am certain you will agree.

The next day I find myself at the corner of Clark and Jewel Osco. Waiting for that gosh darn Clark bus (full of crazys) to pick me up. Lighting up my second Camel Light 99 I noticed a chubby guy in a Dominos ski cap and a very old woman staggering along the sidewalk. Of course, it's the pizza boy and his very old grandmother coming for revenge. I knew my poor tipping would come back to haunt me. As they hobbled closer I became less sure of the fact that it was my pizza boy. In fact, I think I think this guy was just homeless. The two of them making their way through the rush hour hustle and bustle in Andersonville.

"Uh...excuse me..could I get a cigarette..." I felt like the priviliged Mother Teresa of cigarettes drunk with power. He walked over to me as I deemed whether or not he was worthy of my precious Camel Light 99. As I pulled out my very generous supply of cigarettes the old woman said craggily, "Could I also have a cigarette?" I pulled one out for her too. "I have had...just had...breast cancer surgery...could I have..." I gave her a cigarette and smiled. "OH THANK HEAVEN! THANK HEAVEN," exclaimed the lady. Exactly the reaction I would have had - had I been in this woman's position. I made this lady's evening with an ironically carcinogenic gift.

The two continued on and found their way to a pair of benches to enjoy their Camel Light 99's. My generous gift. Did she just have breast cancer surgery? Were they both just coming from the hospital? Or was this her shpeel- maybe she HAD breast cancer surgery and this was part of her "special skills" portion on her panhandling resume. *Had Breast Cancer Surgery *Was evicted from low income housing...Anyway you slice this sad pizza, I believe this lady was going through sheer HELL in the last days of her life.

I thought about running after them and offering them all my cigarettes and everything I had previously purchased at Walgreens- A bag of Fritos Scoops, A 2 liter bottle of Pepsi Next, a box of Immodium,  a supersize bag of cough drops, a bag of Gevalia French Roast coffee (on sale!), my prescription for Lexapro... It would be like a "Jeremy's Favorite Things" episode. "You get Immodium and you get Immodium...IMMODIUM! YOU ARE GETTING IMMODIUM!!!!"

But I did not. They got up from their benches, both with unfinished Camel Light 99's smoking in the autumnal night air and carried on their way South. I went home and fast forwarded my way through last Saturday's SNL, lamenting the loss of Kristen Wiig.

That crazy Donner Party!

I am just about done listening to "Desperate Passage," about the Donner Party. I was terrified to read/listen to this- but it was on sale on Audible.com for $4.95 and I was intrigued. Not knowing much about the situation I had visions in my mind of a crazy flesh eating family of pioneer zombies terrorizing the wild west.

Turns out they were just realllly hungry. And really wanted to get to California! Two things I can relate to in different ways. Their story is fascinating. I have never been so motivated in my life as these people. I can't imagine just heading into a complete unknown searching for a better life. Such courage and faith.

Today I woke up and chatted online and then went back to bed and woke up and went back to bed, etc. Not depressed- just bored. Meanwhile, the Donner Party is going 2 miles an hour, creeping their way to California- eating shoestrings, their pants, their family - just trying to get to friggin California for Christ's sake. I could just take a relatively pleasant and moderately priced Southwest flight, pop a Lunesta and I'm in Los Angeles in no time. I would quickly become bored with Los Angeles, miss my cats and want to come home.

I love Audible.com. I love audiobooks- ever since I was little. I remember those little 45 records you used to get with a picture book. I listened to "Bedtime for Frances" so many times. I can't tell you what the story was about- something about a bear (was she a bear?) not wanting to go to bed. I moved on to biographies about Carol Burnett and Joan Rivers. Later I got into Stephen King. Stephen King is one of the best storytellers. Just a master- the Shakespeare of our times. Quote me on that. The battle between good and evil- so simple but so beautiful.

The Donner Party were not evil. That's what I learned from this book. They were just doing what they had to do to survive. But, like I said, my imagination can scare up such horrifying fantasies about things I know nothing about. How many other things do I avoid or condemn in my mind when I have absolutely no idea what the facts are or what I'm talking about.

I remember during 9/11 I became terrified of Anthrax. I imagined the most horrible terrible things. But it's a skin rash, flu like symptoms and then you die or don't die. No walk in the park by any stretch of the imagination- but nothing like I imagined. I just looked up the symptoms on the CDC website and one of the FAQ's is, "How can I know my cold or flu is not anthrax?" Good God!

Twisted Blankets

I have acute sinusitis and acute bronchitis- allergies that turned into something much more dramatic. I wish that I could get on the side of dramatic and embrace it. Lay in my bed and watch movies with my cats but I keep getting the urge to get up and do something but I have no energy and that makes me mad so I sleep.

I am trying to hang out on the porch for a bit with my Diet Coke and coffee and write something but it is very hard to resist my bed. I also don't like that it is difficult to tell the difference between depression and acute sinusitis and bronchitis.

It's a neverending cycle of coughing and guilt, fever and self loathing.  I am spiraling down a hole while dirty laundry and unwatered plants scream at me and pieces of kitty litter are stuck to my feet. My bed is covered with empty Diet Coke bottles, pretzel rod crumbs and half a bag of uneaten Sour Patch Kids. Twisted blankets never covering the right places, pillows never supporting correctly as I spiral down further and further.

But in my Robotussin dreams, I am able to channel the most beautiful scene- a white washed architectural balcony overlooking a blue blue ocean, populated with beautiful men. I never see their faces just snapshots of broad pale shoulders, chocolate abs, complex muscular thighs. A feeling that all is well, that I am always invited back here.A calm euphoria, taking barefoot steps on warm white stucco. Not knowing my point of being here but not wanting to leave.

Red Bettys

Oh Sudafed you dirty little jagged red pill. So teensy tiny shiny red.

My late summer cold gives me an excuse to ride the Suda-train with tiny little red wheels.
 It's thrilling that I have to get it from behind the counter. Show my license, sign my signature. I worry that some day I will hit my limit. That I'll be accused of having a little meth lab in my bedroom. Brewing up some Tina and watching Cupcake Wars. I am simply not that ambitious.

I think that Sudafed might be an effective adjunct treatment for Bipolar Disorder. I can't speak for the other crazies but when I pop those pills it takes about ten minutes and I am LOCKED IN. What I mean by that is- I feel like all the nauseous-esque, jittery, mildly psychotic energy is locked down and I can focus for a few hours. My concentration is in peak condition. My enjoyment of music and life are heightened. I'm just real chatty and generally a slightly insane ray of sunshine for all to bask in.

Or these could just be the expected effects of amphetamines. I have never "taken meth" which is good because I think I would be happily hooked. I'd be an itchy, paranoid ray of sunshine with no teeth. I have watched people take meth (I'll explain later). Little glass tube with a ball on the end lit with a lighter. These folks are not living the high class Sudafed lifestyle I enjoy every change of season. These people are real itchy and real turned on and unfortunately at the same time, very unattractive.

Authentic "Meth Chic" is never a good look for anyone. Heroin does have a photographic appeal. The super skinny 90's models, skeletal Kate Moss with a smoky eye. The look can be done very well.

The downside of the S-Hole, as I've come to call it, is that after about 3 hours rolling on the red bettys I get EXTREMELY ANNOYED AT EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING. I am EXHAUSTED- I try to lay down and fall asleep for 10 minutes, awakened quickly with what feels like a heart attack. Unfortunately I am not taking the red pills but a mixture of a Mucinex and Pseudoephedrine. These look like horse pills and aren't as easy on the eyes. It's time for my next pill.