Wie sagt Man 'pain' auf Deutsch? Gunnar.

All I remember is seeing the wall coming at me and remembering my stage combat training.

            

            “Chris! Dude! Are you ok?!” as he runs towards me.

            

              I landed hard. Everything was dark for a split second. I opened my eyes. Everything was clear. I laughed. I didn’t catch it, but I didn’t have to do push-ups either. Nothing is broken and I don’t bruise, so I’m fine! Just fine! You play hard, you fall hard!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

            Just a nice hour hangin on the basketball court at the gym with my buddy. Just two guys playin some guy-games. Fun games. Holding two 20 lbs dumbbells in a plank position then drag-scruntching your body across the gym floor. Oh, wait! Can’t stay there for the rest of your life, go backwards now! Here, bro, grab this 10 lb medicine ball and throw it against the wall and catch it! Its fuckin’ rad, dude! Catch it with your arms, not your stomach! Put the ball down, I’ll race you across the court and back! (Even though his legs are a good toddler length longer than mine)

            

            We did no lifting today, just played our little, guy-games. Intense (to say the least) yet, seemingly menial activities. Yes, menial (from Gunnar, they are just MEANial.) as in base knave activities that you would have someone beneath you do. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have been reduced to the status of servant. Again. So with this sort of oppression coming at me, I got…umm…competitive…

            

             After slamming a medicine ball against the ground and catching it before it hits my face 30 times, I was instructed to sprint across the court and back. Again.

            

             Christopher does his last ball slam, he…oh my god ladies and gentlemen! What is he doing? He just threw the medicine ball at Gunnar’s gut to get a head start. Look at Gunnar’s form, ladies and gentlemen! As if he were expecting it, he grabs the ball and takes off while throwing the ball to the side in one fluid movement! OHHHHHHHHHH! The head start wasn’t enough! Gunnar is quickly gaining! Whoa! What is this? Chris magically turned into a GAZELLE, ladies and gentlemen! A gazelle! Gunnar is getting his stride back, and bam! It’s a tie! Oh my God it’s a tie! This has never happened to Gunnar before!

            

             Needless to say, Gunnar upped his game. Knowing that at this point he has totally kicked my ass, he now sees me as vulnerable. New game. Our old friend the medicine ball was to be used. With both arms, underhand throw it up in the air. The other person is supposed to catch it after the first bounce. We have to have SOME safety protocols, after all. Oh, and if I let the ball bounce twice, I do 10 push-ups. OH HELL TO THE HELL TO THE HELL TO THE NO! The game starts out pleasantly. We were like Emily and Florence in the park. Two ladies playing ball. ‘Don’t forget to sit down when you piss!’ errrrr….sorry…I digress…this isn’t the British TV show, Little Britain! I figure this game out quickly, as mother didn’t raise a buffoon! The ball gets tossed further and further away. Gunnar stumbles once, gets the ball and throws it across the court. I take off, eye on the ball. Running full speed, I start to notice the wall is coming closer. Maybe I can dive, catch the ball and roll it out. I’m not going to do those fucking push-ups!

            

All I remember is seeing the wall coming at me and remembering my stage combat training.

            I get the ball alright. As I’m getting into my tuck and roll position, I got it! Right in the ribs. Landing on the medicine ball causes my elbow and knee to slam into the court. But, hey! I missed the wall. By an inch.  This put me in rather good spirits. I don’t have to do push-ups because Gunnar has to do the right thing to avoid lawsuits for the company and end the game! HA! WHO IS VULNERABLE NOW, PUNK!?!

            Some quotes from today’s Gunnar session: “Fuck!” “uhhhhgassssfefwe!” thump thump “ahhhh” splat! “HA!” ----yeah that about sums it up!  

            “Hey, Chris, go get some water, we still have some lunges to do with those dumbbells!”

Body by Gunnar – blood, sweat, tears. 

Litter Box Fan

     So there is this neighbor that wasn't so neighborly a few months back. He and I saw each other, I coming out of my apartment with laundry, he going into his apartment with a tub of laundry soap. I think it is pretty obvious where I was going and from where he had came. I lug my laundry down 4 flights to the basement, and you know what? He had just used the last working washing machine. I was irritated at his lack of courtesy. He also does things like turn his TV way up whilst watching testosterone-filled shoot-em-ups and televised sports. Two of my least favorite things in the world.

     Now, Calypso, my cat, is the world's worst maid. Every day she promises that she'll clean the bathroom, dust, do the dishes, clean the litter box, etc, and everyday I come home to a dirtier apartment. Lazy, lying, fuzz spreading ball of empty promises. Well, this evening I had enough. Her litter box needed to be emptied. Badly.

     I plug my nose. I take the top of the litter box off. I pull the drawstring on the liner and pull. I deem the 'contents' to be too heavy for the liner so I take the bottom half of the litter box and head toward the dumpster. I open my door, put the box in the hall, step out and start to lock my door. Then, I hear it. My opportunity to be a tool of Karma! I look to my right (which just happens to be the direction of the stairwell) and my eyes confirm. My sports watching, mums-the-word on laundry neighbor has his door cracked with a fan blowing into his apartment in hopes that some of the 'air-conditioning' in the hallway will cool off his unctuous abode. I pick up the litter box again and go scope the scene. The way his apartment is set up, the couch, where he is sitting, is hidden by the door. So, with a Cheshire grin, I stand, unseen, holding my malodorous box of feline ejectamenta up to the back of his fan. 


Moral? Be neighborly. You never know if Karma will take the form of a spinsterly gay man with extra cat shit!

Mormons AGAIN!

     I was feeling pretty threadbare as it is. IT DID NOT help seeing mormons on bikes in my neighborhood.  Ever since prop 8, I have been angry. ANGRY. How dare someone try to legalize they ways of my heart! I have, do and will love very deeply with this heart, with this soul. My love toward another human being cannot and WILL NOT be voted on by a community of people who have nothing to do with the inner workings of my soul! Get out of my love life and GET OUT OF MY NEIGHBORHOOD! I don't molest children, worship the devil, want to wreck your marriage, marry animals, burn your churches or whatever other bullshit they come up with to demonize me. I do, however, want an obscenely large piece of chocolate cake with a glass of whole milk. I want to meet someone and have butterflies, I want to live in Europe, I want to perfect at least one language other than English. I want to feel free in the land of the free. I'd love for Americans to have a world view, to take off the red white and blue glasses and see that we are all one! I really want to be identified as a man, rather than a gay man. Yes, I do gay things, its part of me and I love it. And on that note, please stop using gay as a pejorative word. I want to find another sangha so I can build up my withering spiritual self. I want to succeed at work. I want to stop feeling over-whelmed with house work. I want help in life. Sometimes I just feel its too much to handle as the 'stoic single.' Does this sound human (Not gay human, just human) to you? It does to me!


     Ok, back to the Mormons. I did not run them over. I didn't throw my chocolate cake at them. I did however, scream the words, "Wrong neighborhood!" as I drove past.  Was that the most tactful way of handling the situation. No. One should never lash out in anger. A better approach? Maybe I could have calmly approached them, introduced myself, and discussed what exactly they thought they could accomplish in a gay neighborhood. I could have explained my frustration (which I am positive is shared by others) Something, however, tells me that they would have just ridden off before any of this could happen. 


     The Mormons I know are wonderful people. I do my best to let them be the stereotype in my head. My old neighbors were amazing. And boy could she cook! She used to take me on trips to her freezer for cookies...drool...and this lady at work. She loves her some gays, curses, supports HIV causes, does drag makeup, listens when people talk and is a lot of fun to be around! 
     
     I can understand being raised with a religion and thinking its beautiful. I think Catholicism is a beautiful religion. I love the stand up, sit down, drink the wine...err...Christ's blood...Christianity in general is an amazing tradition filled with love and grace. It just takes a few extremists to give good people from all walks of life a bad rap. I.E. those who supported Prop 8, al-Qaida, PETA, stupid american tourists, Tyson Chicken, Ann Coulter, pedophile priests, Jan Couch (please, someone find her some waterproof mascara!) 


     So now that I've totally rambled off path, what I'm really trying to say is, oh hell, I don't know any more. I've had most of that cake, and I feel like a human again. Just love people, love. Even when they are in your hood trying to bring you down. Just believe in love and life will happen! 


Peace, Love and Flower Power!