I'm in one of those "clean up, assess, divest, and get back to square one" modes today. When I get like this, I sometimes think that it is an indication that I may be border-line Bi Polar and am experiencing a high manic phase. On the other hand, I have such a deep mistrust of neatly packaged psycho-babble that I just shrug it off and dig in.

I cleaned up and organized the fuck out of my office. I came home and started cleaning and straightening <---"straightening?" LOL.

Lemme pause here. "Straightening up"... in queer lingo, is when you hide all the gay porn and put away The Advocate and David Magazine and stuff like that, before your parents come for a weekend. Ok, so I didn't do that exactly. LOL. Aaaanyway....

Where was I?..., oh yeah. My manic cleaning up. I'm even going to that "donate any clothes in the closet that you haven't worn in a year" mode. I've been feeling like a big slob for a few weeks and doing this always re-generates me. I crave neatness and order, but can't seem to maintain it. We had these two crazy maids that came to the Doghouse for a few weeks at one time, but that experience was just weird and sorta funny enough for a blog itself. We also had a maid named Bea when I was growing up. Now THAT'S a good future blog.

Marc and Rob are headed up to Buffalo for the NHL playoffs tomorrow. Buffalo is 3 and 0!!!! They are gonna have a BLAST! They could see Buffalo take it. How cool is THAT?!?!

Me and the dogs are going to have the house to ourselves for 3 days. I am contemplating some kind of evil "While You Were Out" project while Marc's up there partying like a mad man and watching hockey players beat the livin' daylights out of each other.

A six pack of Corona and a sledgehammer to the east wall of the kitchen on Friday night sounds like a good idea to me. Whaddaya think? What better time to start that ol' renovation project!!!???

Belle says that Marc and I would be Starsky and Hutch in the classic TV world, but I'm thinking we are more like George Burns and Gracie Allen. I'll give you two guesses about who's who! LOL.

Good night, George. Have a blast in Buffalo.

Dedicated to Six THE Blonde Bombshell and Diesel THE Boss, but throwed off to evahbody.

"Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on
I’m just paying my rent every day
Oh in the tower of song

I said to hank williams: how lonely does it get?
Hank williams hasn’t answered yet
But I hear him coughing all night long
A hundred floors above me
In the tower of song

I was born like this, I had no choice
I was born with the gift of a golden voice
And twenty-seven angels from the great beyond
They tied me to this table right here
In the tower of song

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll
I’m very sorry, baby, doesn’t look like me at all
I’m standing by the window where the light is strong
Ah they don’t let a woman kill you
Not in the tower of song

Now you can say that I’ve grown bitter but of this you may be sure
The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor
And there’s a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong
You see, you hear these funny voices
In the tower of song

I see you standing on the other side
I don’t know how the river got so wide
I loved you baby, way back when
And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed
But I feel so close to everything that we lost
We’ll never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I don’t know when I’ll be back
There moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track
But you’ll be hearing from me baby, long after I’m gone
I’ll be speaking to you sweetly
From a window in the tower of song
Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I’m crazy for love but I’m not coming on
I’m just paying my rent every day
Oh in the tower of song"

Either Leonard or Marianne can sing this song and it never fails to stop me in my tracks.

Recognizing the artists that provide the soundtrack to our lives.

Peace, T.

OK...so. Part of my job is to "supervise" the unloading of the shipping containers of furniture from China, India, or Indonesia that land at our warehouse here in the ATL. "Supervise" my ass. One or two of the sketchy ex-convicts we hire to do this enevitably fail to show up, so I always get to help unload that heavy ass solid wood furniture we ordered.

Hell yes, I'm whining. Damn straight I'm whining. I'm whining because I am a big ol' diva. I sincerely feel my time is better spent on my butt in the office, flipping through catalogs and shelter magazines, and beating down vendors for terms and discounts. But alas, we unloaded the container and off-loaded onto trucks going out to the branch stores from 10am to 8pm today.

Anyway, most of the day, it was just me and the "other" Tommy doing all the work. Hiring another guy with the same name as me has caused some fun conversations in the company. "No, I mean little Tommy (me)" "No, I mean scarey Tommy (him)" "No, I mean WWF Tommy (him)"

I have to admit that I really like the scarey Tommy. He's huge and muscular, has a criminal record as long as your arm, is covered in freaky tattoos, and has been featured on the news in LA due to a high speed car chase in the 80's. I'm talkin' he's been in San Quentin TWICE! I've always wanted an evil twin.

We make each other laugh hysterically. I love it when two completely different worlds collide. I think I would die of boredom if I surrounded myself with people that were too much like me.

That has a lot to do with why I love the scarey "up and coming" neighborhood we live in. I'd miss the random gunfire, the peeps over at the crack house across the street that bring us soul food and ribs on Sundays, and Crazy Ray in the house behind us that screams obscenities in the middle of the night.

Come to think of it, I've always liked people "on the margins". That's where I've always liked to be. It's more fun to color outside the lines.

I like mutts. Mutts are by genetic nature, healthier and less encumbered with hereditary complications.

*****David Bowie "Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed"

Circle the wagons
Circle the soul

What goes
around
comes around

Storm's coming in!
Take cover
mother fucker!

Karma is
a bitch

Karma is
a mistress
you
cannot deny

Karma lays awake
watching
over
as you slumber

Karma replies "ya coulda"
When ya say "I woulda"

What goes
around
comes around

_____________________________________________________________________

I was feeling really down last night. For some reason, flash recollections of people I had shit on when I was younger disturbed my sleep.

I sincerely believe I am not the same person that I was in my teens and twenties. I really believe I am a more evolved human now. I have always chalked it up to the conception that because I was dealing with my own fucked up sexual identity and lower economic class upbringing, that I had some kind of "get out of jail free" card that allowed me to lash out.

I was hurting back then. Hurt was what I let myself know. Hurt was what I passed on like a stick in a relay race. I passed it on like a mother fucker. I made sure that what I took, I dished out.

Fuck...I was so wrong. I perpectuated exactly what I had the power to put an end to.

Trial and error, a viscious cycle of back and forth depression and manic energy, spirituality that wavers between Christianity and Buddhism, and a battle between deleflection and reflection of the soul brought me here today.

A man approached me today in the parking lot of Krogers. He claimed to be a homeless poet from New Orleans. He may have been a lying ass crack head. He may also have been Jesus. I gave him $5 just because that's not a distinction I feel I can make anymore.

I can't remedy all the shitty stuff I did years ago, but I can love and be selfless and non-judgemental now. If nothing else, I have learned to throw down the relay stick. It was too heavy anyway.

Peace, T.

This one is just "not right" on a few levels.
I can hear the collective "groan" down the stream already.