Monthly Archives: December 2021
Solo New Year’s Eve
I was supposed to be going to New Queers Eve (NQE) tonight with friends; however, because of the Omicron variant of Covid-19 and rising case numbers, NQE has been postponed until March 4. That means it will be about two weeks after Winter Is a Drag Ball, which has “The Good, The Bad, and The Fabulous” as its theme in 2022. For that, I have an outfit, and with just over two months until the postponed NQE, I should have an outfit figured out for that one too.
Since I will not be going out tonight, I’ll ring in the New Year with Isabella, but she won’t be getting any champagne, although she might get a kiss if she lets me give her one. I am sure by midnight, she’ll be sound asleep, or she’ll be pestering me to go to bed. She doesn’t like me staying up late, which may have everything to do with me sleeping later when I do stay up, and if I sleep later, then she gets fed later. She expects her breakfast no later than 5:45 am, but earlier if possible.
If you do end up going out tonight please be careful. If you don’t know the vaccination status of everyone, and probably even if you do, please wear a mask. Have fun if you do, and I hope you get a kiss from someone you love or just someone you want to make out with or someone you want to be your first fuck of the year. I’ll live vicariously through y’all.
Photo Credit: Twitter
The Stages of Annoyance
Disclaimer: This post is in total jest.
I love Isabella, and she seems to love me. However, it’s very hard not to interpret her expressions or even to laugh at some of them. She is probably more full of expressions than any cat I’ve ever had. When she knows I’m about to leave my apartment, usually because I’m getting out of the shower and that means I’m probably going somewhere, she looks up at me with total adoration. She purrs and “talks” to me. She also has that look when I come home. While many cats show annoyance when you come home after you’ve been away (my previous cat did that), Isabella can’t seem to get enough of me when I come home. Eventually, she’ll settle down and usually go to sleep. Most of her expressions, though, show when I have displeased her. If you’ve ever owned a cat, you know the stages of annoyance, even if it’s the way they move their ears or they way they bite or scratch you, which Isabella can be guilty of at times, but mostly, she really is a very loving cat.
Isabella’s Stages of Annoyance
Stage 1: Opens her eyes just enough to see what’s going on.
Stage 2: “What do you want? You woke me up, it had better be important.”
Stage 3: “Okay, okay, I’m awake now. If you don’t want anything, I’ll go back to sleep.”
Stage 4: The warning, “You may not live through the night for this insolence.”
Stage 5: The final stage is always more sleep.
And, yes, sometimes, she just act like a crazy creature. She gets that look in her eyes that says, “I’m crazy.” Sometimes, she even still chases her tail. While we’ll never know what our pets are thinking, the expressions they make can be quite fun to try and figure out what’s going through their little brains.
The Grass Is Greener
Ever since I was a teenager, I have often thought how much simpler my life would have been if I’d been born a female. Just because I say that does not mean I actually wanted to be woman. I love having a penis way too much to want to be anything but a man. However, as a teenager, my parents expected me to play sports because I was a boy. I hated playing sports. My personality did not mesh with the guys who loved playing sports. I was competitive in academics, but I cared nothing about being competitive in sports. I also was not athletic in the least. I was uncoordinated and sports did not come easily to me. My sister on the other hand loved sports. She was very athletic, or at least tried to be, but she was never expected to play sports. So, I always thought, “Wouldn’t it be easier if I was a girl?”
Furthermore, whether I understood it or not, I found myself more attracted to guys. I always had “crushes” on other guys, even though I always fooled myself by saying I admired their physique or their athletic abilities. I even admired how they seemed more confident, though I now know they were not as confident as they seemed. If I’d been born female, my attraction to men would have never been thought about twice.
As I got older and had to go dress more formally, I hated wearing a tie. Women never have to wear a tie. Also, there are always events where it’s never clear how formal a man should dress. For example, Friday night is New Queers Eve in Burlington. I have been trying to figure out what to wear. If I were a woman, I could always wear a LBD, little black dress. I could wear more formal jewelry and look more formal. However, as a man, it’s not such an easy thing. I thought I had one possible outfit, but decided that I just didn’t like it.
I know that it’s not as simple as I have stated. I know that there are expectations of women that there aren’t of men. I also know that deciding what to wear is not as simple as I made it sound. I’ve known far too many women to actually believe that. I’ve also known a fair amount of women who have thought, Wouldn’t it be easier if I was a boy?” I guess it’s all just a case of “the grass is greener on the other side.”
The Passing of the Year
The Passing of the Year
By Robert W. Service
My glass is filled, my pipe is lit,
My den is all a cosy glow;
And snug before the fire I sit,
And wait to feel the old year go.
I dedicate to solemn thought
Amid my too-unthinking days,
This sober moment, sadly fraught
With much of blame, with little praise.
Old Year! upon the Stage of Time
You stand to bow your last adieu;
A moment, and the prompter’s chime
Will ring the curtain down on you.
Your mien is sad, your step is slow;
You falter as a Sage in pain;
Yet turn, Old Year, before you go,
And face your audience again.
That sphinx-like face, remote, austere,
Let us all read, whate’er the cost:
O Maiden! why that bitter tear?
Is it for dear one you have lost?
Is it for fond illusion gone?
For trusted lover proved untrue?
O sweet girl-face, so sad, so wan
What hath the Old Year meant to you?
And you, O neighbour on my right
So sleek, so prosperously clad!
What see you in that aged wight
That makes your smile so gay and glad?
What opportunity unmissed?
What golden gain, what pride of place?
What splendid hope? O Optimist!
What read you in that withered face?
And You, deep shrinking in the gloom,
What find you in that filmy gaze?
What menace of a tragic doom?
What dark, condemning yesterdays?
What urge to crime, what evil done?
What cold, confronting shape of fear?
O haggard, haunted, hidden One
What see you in the dying year?
And so from face to face I flit,
The countless eyes that stare and stare;
Some are with approbation lit,
And some are shadowed with despair.
Some show a smile and some a frown;
Some joy and hope, some pain and woe:
Enough! Oh, ring the curtain down!
Old weary year! it’s time to go.
My pipe is out, my glass is dry;
My fire is almost ashes too;
But once again, before you go,
And I prepare to meet the New:
Old Year! a parting word that’s true,
For we’ve been comrades, you and I —
I thank God for each day of you;
There! bless you now! Old Year, good-bye!
About the Poem
“The Passing of the Year” by Robert Service is a beautiful and thoughtful poem about the passing of the year and the beginning of the new. At this critical juncture, the poet, sitting comfortably, talks with the old year. There isn’t much from the poet’s side as it’s much about others with whom the poet converses. They don’t talk with the poet but show how they are, either happy with the passing of the year or sad. However, without remarking much about the poet’s personal affairs the poet bids thanks to the old year at last. Such a poem like this is always rewarding to that person who sits alone and visualizes the year in a recap.
About the Poet
Robert William Service, the renowned poet of the Yukon, was born in Lancashire, England, on January 16, 1874. In 1883 he moved with his family north to Glasgow, Scotland. He attended several of Scotland’s finest schools, where he developed a deep interest in books and poetry, along with a sharp wit and a way with words.
Service’s innate curiosity and fondness for adventure stories inspired an urge to travel—to go off to sea and to see the world. Although his parents discouraged this adolescent ambition, his desire wasn’t extinguished (and would one day be fulfilled). Service bided his time with assorted jobs—one at a shipping office that soon closed down, then another following his father’s footsteps in a position at a suburban branch of the Commercial Bank of Scotland. Working under light supervision, Service managed to pass the day with reading material he’d snuck in: Robert Browning, Lord Alfred Tennyson, and John Keats. Service developed into an excellent student of poetry, and attended the University of Glasgow to study English Literature. He was quickly identified as one of the brightest in his class, though he also proved to be a bit audacious. After a year, the young poet left the university.
Soon his interests realigned with his aims for adventure. His reading turned to Rudyard Kipling and Robert Louis Stevenson, and their stories of world explorers in search of fortune and, more important, their own identity. In 1895, at the age of twenty-one, with a significant amount of savings, Robert announced his dream of going to Western Canada to become a cowboy. He soon set sail for Montreal with only his suitcase and a letter of reference from the bank in tow. Upon arrival, Service took a train across Canada to Vancouver Island, where he lived for many years and gathered much of the material for what became his most celebrated poems. Many of his experiences working on cowboy ranches, and the colorful personalities he met during his travels around the West, eventually found their place in his work.
Numerous publications followed, including Songs of a Sourdough, published in 1907, which won wide acclaim. His forty-five verse collections accumulated over one thousand poems, the most famous of which include “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” “The Shooting of Dan McGrew,” and “The Men That Don’t Fit In.” To add to his poetic output, Service wrote two autobiographies, Ploughman of the Moon (1945) and Harper of Heaven (1948), as well as six novels. His poem about Dan McGrew and several of his novels were adapted to film. The poet himself managed even to garner an acting credit, appearing briefly opposite Marlene Dietrich in the 1942 movie The Spoilers.
Service served as an ambulance driver during World War I, after which he published Rhymes of a Red Cross Man (Barse & Hopkins, 1916), a collection of mostly war poems. He later married a French woman, Germaine Bougeoin, and the two lived in Europe, mainly in the south of France, until the poet’s death in 1958. By then, his prolific and prosperous career in poetry had earned him the distinction—as stated in an obituary in the Pittsburgh Sun-Telegraph—as “the people’s poet.”
He died in Lancieux, France, on September 11, 1958.
Post Christmas Post
I hope everyone had a good Christmas. Mine was good. I woke up and made breakfast: scrambled eggs, grits, and biscuits. I opened the gifts my mother sent me after I had breakfast. She sent me two nice sweaters. Thankfully, she didn’t have them monogrammed like she did last year. I watched some television and played some Christmas music before I started making lunch. I cooked an already sliced turkey breast, cornbread dressing, and butter beans. It was a simple meal, but it was all I required. I had ice cream for dessert. I watched one of my favorite holiday movies, Holiday Inn, during the afternoon. It’s a movie of its time, and some scenes are problematic, but I enjoy most of the music. For dinner Christmas night, I took the leftover dressing and the sliced turkey and rolled the dressing in the turkey. I then poured the leftover gravy over the turkey and dressing “rollups.” They were delicious. After dinner, I watched White Christmas, another favorite holiday movie of mine. On Christmas Eve, I’d watched my “must watch” holiday movie, Christmas in Connecticut.
Yesterday, I drove down the West Lebanon, New Hampshire to do a little shopping. I sometimes prefer to go down there because New Hampshire doesn’t have sales taxes. At least it afforded me time to let the ice that covered my car because of the freezing rain on Christmas to melt. I hate freezing rain. It leaves a layer of ice that’s always a pain to get off my car. Plus, everything outside was also covered in ice. After I had lunch and did my shopping, I realized that I had a bit of a headache and it seemed to be getting worse. By the time I got back home, I had a full blown migraine. I spent the rest of the day either sleeping or lying down watching television. Eventually, I just went to bed early.