Duncan's Blog

When I was in intermediate school (junior high or middle school), my friend and I used to listen to Imus in the Morning on the radio. One of his programs was as a televangelist (on the radio) Reverend Billy Sol Hargis of the First Church of the Gooey Death and Discount House of Worship from Holyland, USA in Del Rio, Texas.
I come from a monotheistic background that doesn't believe in idol worship. Strangely, many of my people spent a fortune on things such as Hummels, but they were admired or adored... not worshiped.
I once asked a Roman friend how it is they can kneel in a pew and look at a statue and ask for something magical of the piece of stone, or marble, or porcelain. She told me that the statue wasn't imbued with any magical power. It's purpose was merely allegorical. When you look at the statue, you are reminded of a long-winded story that goes with this sainted being. And in remembering the story behind the beatified individual, somehow you can get your problem aligned with the problem that that one overcame. Or maybe the King of Kings gave the saint a power and all you have to do is tap into the spirit of the spirit.
They have such great order of things. There's a saint for everything... your profession, if you've lost something, if you need to take a road trip. There's even a Native American saint--Kateri Tekakwitha--whose patronage is for ecologists, ecology, environment, environmentalists, loss of parents, people in exile, people ridiculed for their piety, and Native Americans.
Just recalling a flash back... nothing more.

I live a rather unremarkable homonormative lifestyle. I refuse to hyphenate the word homonormative since heternormative is written as one word and since homonormative doesn't appear in any dictionary yet, the pointless point is a moot one.
I've been taken by surprise more than once by the number of men who will pose with lady's undergarments on (even wearing thongs that look like dental floss within their natal cleft), but who refuse to put a photo of their face online. They say that this is a sex fantasy webpage and they want their privacy.
Sex fantasy? I came here originally because I have long hair and like men and have a general appreciation of Dr Bronner's soap. My sexual fantasies are not the sort of things I write about or share with others. Usually, they consist of scenarios of every day living with actors who have been filmed only in black and white and who are long dead.

Yes, I seem to have a predisposition for white men. I make no apologies for this. I don't recall ever having any interest in females. I had explored dating in college, but that turned into some sort of strange festival of confusion since the women that I would be with would often have male friends who were much prettier than their female counterparts.
Bisexuality was not an option. Vaginal penetration sounded about as freakish to me as visiting a glory hole and I never really cared for the pH that I could detect with the olfactory sniffer.
Sadly, I have lost a number of male friends who have become over-involved with women. I don't hold this against them (they can't control the way they were born or this unusual attraction that they have)... I just don't really want to spend all that much time with someone who is otherwise preoccupied in that arena. I'd rather listen to a farmer talk about his bean crops or the sow that's about to whelp.
Happy independence day!

Traffic stops in my town when folks want to see the manger where Jesus was born or when fireworks are visible from the freeway. At night the sky is lighted up with

fireworks like the opening theme to an episode of LOVE AMERICAN STYLE. And you could smell the sulfur (lead, cooper, and other toxins too) for miles. And we wonder why there is so much cancer in our country. Just clean living, I suppose.
Spectator stopping is also popular at car accidents. There's something about seeing a new car turned into an accordion that makes people go through a myriad of feelings. "The car was a tiny P.O.S. to begin with," "It was a pillbox just asking to be crushed," or "Must've been a woman behind the wheel..." And what happens when you see a decapitated cadaver before the paramedics arrive? Not exactly the way you want to start your morning en-route to the daily grind.
I prefer freeway driving in the midst of nowhere (say I-5 between Los Angeles and San Francisco). You can see the cows at the HARRIS RANCH all lined up neatly during their feeding time; what's more fun to look at than a cow's a** while she is chomping down on fresh feed? Or you could look at acres of some unknown crop that's growing on flat land in the San Juaquin Valley after you have been bombarded by republican-slanted propaganda about how democrats are taking away the waters that make food grow.
I dread the 4th of July. Never liked the fireworks for fear of accidents and I hate the noise because it bothers the dog and cat so much.
Thankfully, I am a sound sleeper. I sleep through sounds. And I am not a spectator. I like to stick to my schedule and only stop to pee or shop for roadside fruit.

Pride at 50: Rare photos of early marches

"I hardly noticed Sally as we parted company."

It's a song of friends and of love. It's a song about a person who becomes consumed with work and his name/reputation. He had achieved financial success, but at the expense of the loss of his love and his friends.

So, the question is what is 'good' company? For years I had always maintained a select friend of friends. Not all of these folks were people I would introduce to my everyday crowd or to my family. Some people are just not mingle-worthy. There was one whom I had known for years or even decades... someone I had invited to travel with me, to dine with me, to watch my animals while I was gone, and to go to holiday parties as my plus one. I had to let my guard down during a 3-day weekend when he stayed at my house while I was away. He invited friends over, smoked on the porch, slept in my bed (he was assigned to the futon), and didn't notice that the dog had an eye infection. I even gave this friend cash for incidentals while I was gone.

His bad behavior was uncovered by my tenant who asked the straightforward question of him, "WTF is wrong with you? Don't you see this dog is sick?" I guess he was too busy smoking with his bud on the front porch. Said friend left early and the tenant took the dog to the clinic. Never heard back from the friend. He knows he had done me dirt. Never apologized... in fact he wrote, "No body speaks to me in that tone!"

Love has also come and gone. Most of the time, I chalk that up to having dodged the bullet. I think of four individual times when that had happened... the third one was at a time when I was actually planning on moving in with the person and he had a change of heart... took all of his belongings from my apartment and sent me a dear John letter. The last one left me because I had said, "I love you," without any solicitation. That was buzz kill for the relationship.

These days I'm actually happy that my life is not pulled by the forces of hormones. I still love my friends and value my friendships, but the heart isn't given away so quickly.