Me, defined

"Yes, your evil aura had to evolve since you found someone who neutralizes your ability to destroy lives. This happened because you became involved - you see L's inherit goodness is your "cryptonite" when it comes to the ability to be "Destroyer of Lives" and therefore in an attempt to survive, your black hole of evil has branched out into a more subtle way of making people miserable - it stops them from being able to go to the toilet... Next it will add the ability to make people hungry and think that wolves are chasing them at the same time."

Huge thanks to Stephanie who is responsible for this text.

Kieltäydyn kommentoimasta enempää.

Isoroba ei ole mikään Khao San.

In my previous life I used to be a straight man

I don’t get colors. I know yellow isn’t good for my complexion. And green makes me look like seriously seasick. But what comes to what shade of red our livingroom walls should be, I’ve no idea. I like the color we have now. Apparently it’s too dark. So if it’s too dark the obvious solution would be painting it a lighter shade of red. But no. Instead I’m looking at samples of yellow. Wtf.

Money money money...

It is amazing how much information there is in banking statements. I went through them yesterday, oldest dating back to around 1992. Apparently I’ve had lots of money back then because there were many payments made to me from different people. Either that, or I was a dealer and it just has conveniently slipped my mind. Oh and the amount of sexual innuendo! Well, not so much innuendo really… using the words “thanks for a good shag” in the message part is not very subtle… Maybe I should destroy them all, and not leave behind a stack of paper which makes me look quite suspicious. Especially if I turn out to grow up to some Mother Teresa kind of figure. Fortunately the likelihood of that happening is beyond miniscule, it’s downright negative.

1 + 1 = 3,7

I got the most straightforward bootycall ever a moment ago. At this point in my life it only made me smile, chuckle a bit and politely decline with a ps. I’m getting married. That prompted a quick happy congratulations response and the exchange veered into neutral things, such as where do I work now, what he is up to and so on… I know it might sound a bit weird. After all it’s been almost two years since I started dating my lovely gf. Like did he just suddenly after all this time remember me? No, he’s an old friend and a fling and a few other things. We talk about every six months and he knew that atleast the last time we spoke I had a girlfriend. But there’s no harm in trying, right? And we’ve had this “call me up when you’re in need of easy uncomplicated sex” thing going on since… let’ see… since fall of 1994. It only ended 10 days short of two years ago, when I met my gf. At that point it had been a while since our last “strangers in the night” type of encounter but the possibility still was there.

And now to the subject I’ve been thinking about for a week. At the Pridepark one of my friends said that I am a really good person. (Funny that, she has also said that I’m a cold cruel bitch but opinions change I guess…) I don’t feel none too good as a person. I even said to her that naw, I ain’t good, I’m just good at pretending to be. Is that as good as it gets? I mean I do have strong emotions towards some people, I’d do anything for certain people, like for the little drunken midgets. I am protective and gentle and can act kindly. But in general, I don’t care for people, I dislike most of them, I intently am cruel sometimes… the list goes on. I don’t really have that much morals either. I KNOW what is right and wrong, I don’t FEEL it. Not most of the time anyway. Isn’t it something you should just feel in your gut? I have this icecold clear feeling instead, calm and calculated. It’s just willpower. And choices. Should I have to choose? Shouldn’t it be obvious, what is right and what is wrong? Do other people feel like this?

And for the record, these two paragraphs have nothing to do with each other, I am not contemplating about returning that bootycall. No need ;)

One track mind

At the moment all I have in mind is sex.

But before you yell “yikes” and stop reading let me assure you, I’m not going to write about that.

Prideweek is over and I’m slowly coming back to my senses. For the whole week I pretty much worked in overdrive, on sheer willpower and nothing else. I made some new friends, learnt a lot (like if you are planning on distributing balloons you have to have a permit, city’s airspace and all that), slept way too little, missed most of the actual fun stuff and had the biggest adrenaline rush all through the parade. Some future year I will not be involved in arranging this thing and able to just enjoy and bitch about this and that performer/lackofperformer/foodstand/ticketprice/schedule/whatever.

I wish our Lesbian King would have been there with me. There were moments when I would have needed her sense of humour to pick me up again, or her around to solve problems by suggesting dwarfs.

Option B

I use this blog for two things. One is to whine. Second one is to whine about the “good old days”.

My shortterm memory is shot and there’s not much to say about my longterm memory either. I remember random things, bits and pieces. And occasionally, even seeing proof, I draw a complete blank. Like yesterday.

We were packing up the old office and found a stack of pictures taken during Pride 2002, or the year before that, or after…. It was fun to see those pictures and to notice hom much the Pride parade has grown since. People look just the same still. Except…

Some of us may have put on a little weight… And a few more wrinkles. Some have grown their hair back and some haven’t. Some still use the same baseballcap. Some have the same girlfriend. Some have something completely different going on.

One picture was especially thought provoking. There’s me and my friends and their friends having a picnic. One of the people in the picture is a woman I was somewhat involved with much later. That picture is taken when I just knew her from the barscene, she still was in a relationship and there was absolutely no indication whatsoever about what would happen between us. I mean I can see in the picture why I noticed her in the first place. I don’t think that we had spoken anything by then, or before. So if asked, I would have said that I haven’t seen her there. But there she is, in the same picture, clearly hanging out with the same people.

Then the real thing. If I would have guessed what would happen with her would I have started it in the first place? Was it worth it? I know, these thoughts are completely useless, what’s done is done and so on. But even I am sometimes only human and think these things… Was it worth all the heartache and misery and loneliness and pain? Was there enough good to make up for the bad? Did it make me a better person to have experienced all that?

At the end there’s something that made it worth it all, and ten times more. Without her I probably wouldn’t have gotten to know the woman that became one of my true friends. So no pain no gain, and I did hurt a lot, but what I got out of it made it all right.

Similar features, part two

Through my work I met briefly a photographer. There was nothing extraordinary in that, except she sounded just like someone I used to care for. And not just kind of, but exactly like her. Every time she spoke I felt this little poke in my brain, triggering memories. It was strange. A good strange, but still.

While travelling with my friend we used to spot people who were just like someone we knew back home. Sometimes it was something like “that’s what X would look like ten years older” and sometimes something more far fetched, like “that’s what X would look like if she’d be ten years older, black, and male”. It is fun to see similar features in people.

Sometimes though it’s not so fun to notice that you’ve started to behave like your parents. You know, the ones you said you’d never be like?

When did I look away

Walking down the street I could always smell when someone had been smoking pot. It's something you don't really forget, the sweet smell, kind of nauseating. And it's something you can't be wrong about, it's not like incence, not like herbs, not like scented candles...

Sunday I was in a museum and there were lots of children around, it was a Pixar exhibition. I walked past a group of kids and instantly smelled the sweet, kind of sour smell of infant formula. That's something else you can't be wrong about. Once you've smelled it once, and had it spat back all over you, the smell is forever stuck on your memory.

When did I look away and this happened?