Stuff & nonsense

Macbeth, 

Macbeth, 

Mac-fucking-beth!

ooo (click here)

I do not believe.

I do not believe in the “Macbeth” ghost, nor in the “Good Luck” monster, nor in the whistling demon.

Similarly, I do not believe in crossing my fingers for luck, nor in avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk, nor in taking a detour to avoid passing beneath a ladder or crossing a black cat’s path. If I spill salt, it’s spilt. Why would a person throw some over his or her shoulder? That would just make it harder to clean up.

Similarly, I do not believe in Zombie-Jesus crying over my sins, 

nor in Old One-Eyed Odin who might pay me a visit someday, 

nor do I fear Zeus’ thunderbolt.

And guess what. I don’t think that Santa Claus, Hanukah Harry, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy even exist.

I am an intelligent person, capable of rational thought. I don’t feel that years of tradition give a ridiculous belief any “weight”. Your believing in it might. Not because believing in it makes it true in any objective sense, but because if you think something’s going to happen, you may subconsciously work to make it happen.

But just because you (yeah, I’m mostly talking to Susan Reinecke right now) believe something, doesn’t mean that I have to. Also, people, don’t keep perpetuating superstitions. It’s just silly. You don’t see me going around making up random rules and demanding you perform ridiculous rituals when you transgress. 

more weird dreams

Last night I had a dream in 2 parts, which was sort of interrupted by another dream. At least I think that’s what happened. It’s had to tell, ‘cause I was asleep.

Dream 1 part 1: I was in Egypt, or possibly Central America—someplace with pyramids. I’ve no idea what I was doing there, but on the last day before I came home I went up a huge mountain to see a pyramid. Maybe the whole mountain was part of the pyramid; I’m not sure. I don’t remember the beginning, but it seemed that going to see the pyramid was somehow dangerous—something I shouldn’t’ve been doing. Anyway, it seemed to have nothing to do with why I was there.

Dream 2: I was hanging out at someone’s house with a bunch of other folks. (Last night I actually was hanging out at a friend’s house.) In the dream, I seemed to know everyone, but only three people—2 of whom are a couple— did I recognize from real (awake) life. So in the conversation went on until I said something about feeling one girl’s breasts. It was the girl in the couple I recognized from real life. No one thought it at all odd, and the girl moved over to me and I started feeling them. Eventually I took her shirt off and continued, and still no one thought it odd, even her partner. No reaction. Nothing. Weird.

Dream 3: I was on the plane arriving back home from my pyramid-country trip. There were a couple of other people with me from the trip—no one that I recognized. But we landed and got off the plane—no going through customs, etc. There was somebody there with a van to take us home. Home was in NYC, where I’ve not lived for a couple of years. The driver knew where we all lived and how to get there. It was like we were all in some complex, powerful organization or something.

Anyway, when I got to my apartment, I had a hard time remembering which it was, etc. Apparently I’d been gone for a long time—maybe a year or so? It was late at night, after midnight, when I got home, and there was a group of several people I didn’t recognize calling for “Chris”. I kept looking back every time they called “Chris” but they said it wasn’t me.

I went in the apartment and put my stuff down. I went to the bathroom, which wasn’t in the apartment. It was sort of like a public restroom for the apartment. So, while I was in there urinating, another guy came into my stall and complained that I was peeing near him or something and complained to the landlord. The landlord came and said that although I’d been paying the rent all along I was kicked out, and that while I’d been gone this other guy—the one who came into my stall and complained—had been living in my apartment and was going to rent it now. He was going to take over my apartment and another and maybe knock a wall down. And this guy was the “Chris” the people had been calling. They were there to visit him/move in more of his stuff now that it was official. The landlord was giving me that night to move out, in NYC, with no car.

Then I woke up. It was around 3:30am. Then I went to the bathroom—this was in real life, in my apartment here in North Carolina. After that I lay in bed for several hours sleeping fitfully. I wanted to get back to “Dream 2”. But it didn’t happen.

my body

     (I'm not sure exactly who reads this blog. You may find this to be way too much info. 

     I'm just sayin'...)

The other evening my neighbor saw me naked. Here’s how that happened:

I live in a small, cheap, almost-studio apartment. There’s a half-wall separating the “living room” area and the “bedroom” area. The kitchen is a separate room (unlike a real studio apartment), and I share the kitchen, along with the heat/air conditioner with my neighbor. When I first moved in, I thought sharing the kitchen could be a little odd. But the neighbor makes a lot of microwave dinners and stuff like that in her apartment. I’ve never actually seen her cooking. And I rarely see her in the kitchen at all.

We share a thermostat (it’s in the kitchen), and the neighbor likes to keep it warm-ish now that it's winter. (Except for the occasional 70-degree day at which time she finds it necessary to turn on the air conditioner. I do not know why. Just open a window, woman!) In the summer she keeps it way too cool for my taste, but I can close the vent. She also likes to shut the blinds and leave a light on in the kitchen at night, all night. Apparently it makes her feel more comfortable, as if people are just looking for an apartment with no lights on to break into and that kitchen light will keep them out. Anyway...if there’s no light on, she’s probably not home.

Now. I like to be naked. I wrote a blog about it before, several years ago. It’s not a big deal, but if I’m home for very long, it’s likely that I’m wearing nothing or very little...except if it’s cold. Generally, I put something on to go into the kitchen, because she just might happen to be in there. But sometimes, if I’m only going to be in there for a few seconds to grab one thing or put a cup in the sink, etc, I’ll slowly open the door and peek in to see if she’s in there. And if she’s not, I just slip in and out without putting anything on.

So. The other evening I was home, wearing nothing as usual, and I was going to fix something to eat. I knew I’d be in there for maybe a minute, so I put on a pair of sweat pants. When I was done, back in my apartment, I took off the sweat pants and then realized I needed a spoon. Well, the light had been out and the blinds open, and I assumed she wasn’t home. Just needing a spoon, I didn't put the sweatpants back on. I was gonna be in there for 2 seconds or something. I knew she wasn't in there because I’d just been in there and the light was out. So I didn’t peek in to be sure. I just opened the door and stepped in. No big deal, right?

She was in there. 

I don’t know if she’d just gotten home and I didn’t hear her, or if she’d been home and heard me in the kitchen and decided this was the time to go turn on the light. That’s what she seemed to be doing: going to turn on the light, which is on “my” side of the kitchen.  Well, there I was, naked. It was dark in the kitchen, but light was coming in from my apartment. And she was only a few feet away. I don’t know exactly what she could see, but it was obvious that she saw I was naked. She said “oh!” and I said “sorry”. I went back into my apartment and grabbed a towel, went into the kitchen, got a spoon, said “sorry” again and that I didn’t think she was there and that I was only getting a spoon and was only gonna be there for a few seconds. She didn’t say anything.

We don’t actually speak on any sort of regular basis. If I happen to see her outside smoking when I leave or come home, I’ll say hi; we might exchange a few words. But we’ve not spoken since the other night. She started to come into the kitchen a day or two ago while I was washing dishes, clothed, but then she sort of grunted or said something and backed out. She hadn't done that before, and I think it's because she must've felt uncomfortable or something. When I do see her again, I don’t know if I should say anything about it, maybe apologize again. I tend to want to talk about things, but with her, the best thing to do may be to act like it didn’t happen. She’s never seemed especially comfortable in general when I’ve seen her, since I first moved in, so I don’t think she’d be comfortable with a conversation about nudity.

I don't want to make her uncomfortable. I wasn't trying to flash her. I honestly thought she wasn't there. I don't care if she sees me, except that I know most people wouldn't be comfortable. I have considered looking for another apartment where I don't have to share a kitchen with someone who isn't comfortable with seeing me naked. But the price is great, it's a good location (walking distance from UNCG where I do some accompanying). Also, my stuff is already here. 

My wish would be that it wasn’t a big deal at all, my being naked. Or anyone’s being naked. It’s just a body. We all have a body. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have a body. We all have the same parts, just different proportions.

Now, I’m not suggesting that everybody should go around nude all the time. The weather most places doesn’t permit that. But neither should we freak out when we happen to see a body. People freak out because of sex. Lots of folk aren’t comfortable with sex, and they equate nudity with sex. Let me just say that nudity is not sex. Let me just say again that NUDITY IS NOT SEX. When I’m at home all day with no clothes on, I’m not having sex. I’m not even thinking about sex most of the time.

When people look at my head they see that I’m a person who has a head (like everyone else). My head is bald on the top. Not everyone is bald, but it’s not an unusual variation. There’s some little bit of hair in the front, and there’s hair on the sides, but I am basically bald. My head has a mouth and nose, two eyes and ears (like almost everyone else). My head usually has glasses on it—not that strange. And it has a beard. Not every head has a beard, but, like being bald, it’s certainly not all that unusual. My beard is sort of reddish-brown (or brownish-red?) and has some white in it. If you look closely you’ll notice a couple of spots that don’t quite fill in.

People see my head all the time. It’s not the most handsome, but it’s okay, I suppose. It’s a lot like all the other heads that people see on a regular basis. The same could be said of my body, that is, if people saw bodies on a regular basis. I have arms and legs and skin. I have some hair, not a lot. I’m thin-ish and pale and not very muscular. I have some freckles and moles. Oh yeah...also, I have a penis.

(AH! NO! OH-MY-GOD!)

That’s right, a penis. As far as I can tell, it’s a lot like other penises. It’s not a giant porn penis. Much like the rest of my body it’s on the smaller side of “normal”. (It’s not a “big deal” ha!)

People seeing a penis is the real issue here. You can see almost every other part of a male and not call it “nudity”. You could see a man’s nipples and not call it nudity. Arms, legs, chest, back...not nudity. You can see buttocks, and you might call it “brief nudity”. But to actually see a penis...ahhh! Freak-out time. 

No, people. No. Just like nudity does not equal sex, a penis (or a vagina or breasts) does not equal sex.

Just as people see my head, with its reasonable variations, and accept it as part of me—that’s Chris’ head...he keeps his brain in there... hm...I’m okay with that—I really wish they could see my body, with its reasonable variations, and accept it as part of me—that’s Chris’ body...he lives inside there, with his bones and muscles and organs...hm...I’m okay with that. Those are Chris’ shoulders and knees and skin. There’s a little belly, not big, but bigger than it was when he was 20. You can see that gravity has an effect (just like with everyone else). And yes, there’s a penis, and guess what? We’re not having sex. (Just because I can see it, doesn’t mean that I have to do anything with it.)

It’s a body. We all have one. Mine’s not perfect. I wish it were better, but it is what it is. I’m okay with it, and you don’t have to freak out about it. Whether you ever see it or not, it’s always there. It’s part of me. If you do happen to see it sometime, I hope you think, “Well, that’s Chris’ body... hm...I’m okay with that.”

car stuff

Friday afternoon I got in my car to head to a rehearsal with a trombonist before my Hairspray rehearsal. As I started to back up, it felt like something was wrong. Indeed, something was wrong. The front driver’s side tire was flat. It had worn through to those metal wires. I just hadn’t been paying attention, not even sure how long ago they were put on the car. Well, I got out the spare, and didn’t see a jack. I’d never actually had to change a tire on this car before; I bought it new 7½ years ago. I assumed there’d be a jack, but I didn’t see one.

I contacted the trombonist, and said I wouldn’t make it to the rehearsal, we’d have to reschedule. And I told the Hairspray director that I had a flat, wasn’t sure how long it’d take and I’d let her know. I spent a little time trying to see if I could get hold of a jack: knocked on a few neighbors’ doors, with no luck. I called a garage, and they told me there ought to be a jack in there somewhere. I looked again. There was. It had just been sort of hiding. (Also, they told me that they don’t carry tires, and would have to order one...they wouldn’t be able to do much that day.)

So, I got the jack out, and started trying to change the tire. The lug nuts were very unwilling to come loose. As I said, I’d never changed a tire on this car; it had been many years since I’d changed any tire, and I’m not exactly what you’d call a strongman. So I kept at it, and they finally started to come loose. It basically required my standing on the tire iron. I realize now that it shouldn’t take that drastic a measure to change a tire, but at the time I was focused on getting it done so I could maybe make it to my second rehearsal.

The first lug nut finally came off, rather suddenly. In fact, it broke off.

I’d never seen this before and wasn’t 100% sure that’s what it was, so I tried to take off a second one, to compare. It also snapped off. I called another auto place (one with “tire” in the name).

I described the situation; they said it sounds like I did break them and sent their tow truck. The tow truck guy briefly checked the other tires and said they’re all like that. It’s likely this thing called “lock tight”. I looked it up. Loctite is basically a thread-locking super glue.

http://www.loctiteproducts.com/ 

The tow truck guy said that you might see this sort of thing in a situation where a car owner gets into an argument with a mechanic, so the mechanic puts Loctite onto the lug nuts so that later when you need to change the tires, you won’t be able to without breaking the lug nuts. I don’t recall ever getting into an argument or disagreement with, or even being rude to, anyone working on my car. I don’t know how to fix my car, and I certainly wouldn’t want to piss off the person who was fixing it. Anyway, who would do that to your car? That’s a shitty thing to do, even if you are pissed off.

Apparently it’s not a simple thing to fix. At the garage they had to call around to get the parts and go pick them up. I’m not sure how they actually got the bolts out once the part that a wrench fits around was broken off, but I was there for about 3½ hours. Eventually I’ll need to get all the lug nuts replaced so it’s not an issue in the future. But the front passenger side tire is pretty thin, and I really need to replace that one right away.

The problem is, whatever the parts were that they needed (was it just new lug nuts or other parts too? I don’t know what they had to do to get the damn things off) they got from the KIA dealer (my car’s a KIA), and that’s not something they keep a lot of in stock. The dealer has no more, and they won’t be in until sometime Wednesday.

Now... Today through Thursday I’m supposed to go to Jamestown for Hairspray rehearsal, about 20 minutes away, in town driving, and then go to Burlington for Guys & Dolls, about 40 minutes in the other direction, mostly interstate, and then back home, 35-40 minutes interstate. I don’t know if my thin front passenger side tire can make it to Thursday. I don’t want a blow-out on the interstate, and I don’t want to miss rehearsal. Is it safer to take a slower route? Should I rent a car?

Ug.

Advice?

Dear CNN.com

I submitted the following earlier this morning to CNN.com via their "contact us" form. Not sure if I'll get any response. 

     Are you guys seriously censoring comments with the word "sex" in an unaltered 

     spelling?

     I tried to post a comment an hour or more ago on this article:

     http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/03/03/illinois.sex.toy/index.html

     My comment was, in part, about the lack of use of the word "sex". The comment 

     hasn't posted yet, and I assume it won't.

     I really do get it if you want to preview posts to be sure they're not offensive or  

     off-topic, etc. But to not post the word "sex" in comments on an article about sex  

     is ridiculous. You seem to be willing to post "s*x"--which looks more like  

     "special effects"--and "$ex"--which I find disturbing, as it brings money into the 

     concept of sex.

     I haven't looked into this by scanning lots of article's comments, so I wonder is it,  

     in fact, your policy to not allow user comments that include the unaltered word  

     "sex"? If so, again, it's ridiculous. "Sex" is a perfectly reasonable word. It's even  

     used in the article I'm referring to.

     And if this is a policy of CNN.com, it seems to support the idea that sex is  

     something that ought not be openly and straight-forwardly discussed. If's that's  

     your position, then why even present such an article? Why not just ignore it, sweep 

     it under the rug, along with the word "sex"?

     (And another thing...)

     I've read your Terms of Use, wherein you state that you reserve the right to edit,  

     refuse to post, etc. Okay, if that's your policy, fine. But then don't say directly under 

     the user comment box that "Comments are not pre-screened before they post." and  

     then show a message that a moderator will have to approve comments. Just be  

     clear, one way or the other.

Now, maybe I'm wrong about the whole thing, and they just have a serious backup of comments. But I doubt it. 

Here is the comment I originally tried to post:

     Why can't people use the word sex instead of "s*x" or, much worse because it brings 

     money into the equation, "$ex". This is an article about sex.

     I once attended (not at school) an educational presentation of sexuality. It was  
     clear that it would be graphic, and no one forced me to go. It was a little odd,  
     but really informative. And providing information was the point. This incident at  
     Northwestern sounds very much the same: an optional after-class demonstration  
     which the students were warned several times would graphic. And it's for a  
     human sexuality class.

     If eating chocolate ice cream makes you uncomfortable, and someone offers you 

     chocolate ice cream, you should say, "No, thank you," and not eat it.

Weird dreams last night

So I lay in bed for what seemed like hours last night half-asleep and half-awake dreaming/thinking about a couple of measures on a single page of music from my Guys & Dolls score—a page and measures which don’t actually exist. I was in rehearsal, but we couldn’t get started. I kept looking at the spot where we were supposed to be starting. It was a tricky spot, and we really needed to work on it, but we never did. It was torture. If I was asleep, I knew it was a dream, and if I was awake, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Then I think I was asleep later, because I had what definitely seemed like a dream. (But I was also aware of it being a dream.) I was on a team in a sort of conflict/competition—something like paintball, but it wasn’t actually paintball, just a war or battle simulation or something. It was outside, like paintball probably would be. It felt real—not the dream, but the fighting in the dream.

That morphed into another half-asleep/half-awake thing. My group was planning an attack—I guess you’d have to call it a rebel terrorist attack—against the evil tyrannical government. It involved bombs and guns and unspecified public places. Then the public places turned into a school during a reunion. I guess it was high school, I’m not sure. The attack either failed or was discovered or something and I was trying to escape when I saw 2 friends from college: Tony & Debbie Harne, whom I haven’t talked to in 3 or 4 years. Debbie kept trying to talk to me and find out why I needed to escape. Finally I stole one of those trucks with the huge wheels—not quite “monster” truck-sized, but pretty big.

The escaping morphed into me, as an adult (I think) trying to leave from the house I lived in during high school. My younger brother, who was sort of also my older brother, had just got married that day. I was planning some big escape. Okay, actually I don’t think I was planning very well. It may’ve just been a continuation of the previous escaping dream/fantasy (still not sure if I was asleep or awake or somewhere in between). It was the middle of the night or early morning, and I was in my old room gathering stuff I thought I might need. I kept trying to put on this really weird oriental costume, and sneaked into my brothers’ room to pilfer stuff. And I still had the big truck—stashed somewhere, I suppose—because I kept thinking about how to drive it and not look suspicious.

Eventually—around 7:30?—I definitely woke up and wondered what that was all about. And tried to go back to sleep, but my brain wasn’t having it. So now, I’m really tired, which sucks ‘cause this is a busy day: lessons and coachings from 11-5, with a couple of half-hour slots free, and then Guys & Dolls music rehearsal in Burlington 7-10. I’ll do a little work a few principals and then most of the time with everyone on “Sit Down You’re Rockin’ the Boat” and the finale.