"In the mirror I look the same. That is the cliché, isn’t it… the guy in the mirror that I don’t remember becoming. Shit, I wrote a book about that. But me, I do look the same. A little fatter, darker circles under my eyes and some lines and wrinkles that in a woman would prompt the purchase of the latest Lie from the Ponds Institute but in a man is “distinguished”. I wear my hair the same as I have for years. I have not had a “Queer Eye” makeover so my clothes are the same."

2.28.09 -

I have not posted anything to this website since 2007 and before that it was 2005. I seem to be on an two year schedule. I have no idea when, if ever, I will pick it up again. Other than this little note, of course.

I still get emails but the ones from strangers asking when I am going to update the site have all but ceased. There is just too much competition for eyeballs on the internet for me to matter, even for that small group of people who forced themselves to give a high holy shit. These days it is usually just people I used to know. And there are serious doubts in my mind as to whether I really even knew them in that period of time referred affectionately as "back then"... but that is another little chicky altogether.

It used to be I had lots of things to say. Oh, so very vocal I was. Then it just stopped. I ran out of words is my best explanation. I posted religiously this site, blogs (shortly after the Big Bang of the Blogosphere), a random article here and there, 2 books, volumes of poetry, and then one day... poof... nothing. And if nothing is not the truth then at least nothing public.

Here comes a subject change…

These days everyone is connected. They have facebooks or my spaces or facespaces or my books or whatever... and to the largest degree I have opted out of the social networking revolution.
In the narrowest sense it all makes sense to me. People staying attached to people they share like interests with, similar history, geographies, whatever. But expanded to the ridiculous extreme, which is where it usually ends up, it all seems like a massive exercise in artifact collecting and of never letting go.

Mine is the first generation, I think, to have the chance to stay connected to people who might have otherwise, before modern times, passed in and out of our lives, without any warning and leaving no trail, no forwarding address, and rightly so in 98% of all cases. But now we never really have to say goodbye, even if we ought to, even if we should have long ago.
While I dismiss that any of this profile surfing and comment posting is really friendship, I do not argue that there is some meaning to it. It is just not enough meaning for me to embrace it for myself. I have such a small circle of friends. Some are new, some are old, but all are very relevant. And in the classic or traditional way, when someone's relevancy ceases to be the friendship withers to memory or acquaintance, whichever requires the least amount of effort. Regardless the health of relevancy of my friendships, they are too few at any given point to catalogue or to base a collection on. I do not compile nor do I warehouse statistics about my friends, their preferences, where they were before they visited, or where went off to when they left. I don't suggest to other friends that if they enjoy their association with me they might also try meaningful relationships with the following people sorted by eye color, hometown, and music preference. Fact is being my friend carries with it no special dynamic of social togetherness. All you get in return is my friendship. Not the "send me pictures of your kid's 5th birthday party" friendship, or friendship that auto-alerts you 24x7 to the emoticonic changes in my mood or state of mind, but the kind of friendship where if you can call me at 2am with the wolves at your door and I will come running with my best wolfing gun.

Often times I feel like that I was born 30 years too late. When I say this to my friends (actually say, using words, no twittering or texting or posting or chatting, you know… old fashion talky words) they chuckle given how steeped in gadets and technology I am. My job is into the deep muck of technology and trying to figure out ways to make it make sense to those who might not "Sprechen Sie Techie". But it is true. As much as I love my computers, as much as I am addicted to my blackberry, as much as I like sitting in a hotel in Rome watching my TV at home over the internet, I think socially I was born too late.
I like few people, not many. I like handshakes and honesty. I like dinner with a few friends where I like to pick up the check more often than not. I like face to face talk about nothing in particular. I will even suffer the odd hour long telephone call if it means getting closer to a friend. And even though I cannot look up a historical record of their "mood" over the previous 3 months, I can tell you what it feels like to talk to them. I can describe the sound they make when they are uncomfortable sharing a personal truth.

Subject Change…

I am all out of closure, folks. You know, it seems that for a year straight I got nothing but emails from people who, after 8, 10, 12 years decided that it was a good idea to make amends for some kind of wrong they had inflicted upon me. Sad truth is, there were no wrongs… at least not from my point of view. I struggled with the idea that I had left friendships or relationships, many by last count, with wispy loose ends hanging in a decade-long breeze. It is an unsettling feeling to be apologized to when you feel like you are the asshole. So I say what any good citizen who is accused of being a victim says… "It's OK. Things turned out great and I forgive you." Now I just tell people it was all my fault, that I am the asshole and this world has fallen exactly in the order it has with very little difference having been made by my flagrant assholery! I cannot die on someone else's closure sword because it helps them through their twelve steps or makes them a better born again Christian. I gave what I could give and I got what I deserved. End of list.

Subject Change…

I am going to have another child. I love the one I have and like the idea of challenging my capacity for that kind of love with another off spring. This will be my second child and the first with my second wife. This is a fact, not something I will expound upon other than to say that I never thought that would be my path of parenthood.

Subject Change…

The President is Black. Nearly all the senators are still Lilly-White men in their 50's and 60's. Let's postpone the Social Progress Celebratory Conga-Line for a few more elections, shall we.

Subject Change…

I am almost 35 years old and have turned out nothing like I thought I would when I was 18. This is a great thing because when I was 18 I thought I would be dead by the time I was 25. Hooray Me!