Well they said that today there was going to be a heat index of 100 degrees which is insane, yet it didn’t actually feel like that. It seemed hotter the past few days. I judge this by the amount that I sweat, and today I simply didn’t sweat as much as I had. There were still sweat stains but I didn’t look like someone threw a buck of water on me. I sweat at night in bed, since I’ve been putting off getting the air conditioner and placing it in the window. I always feel like it’s going to fall out and seriously injure someone. I wrote something like that a while ago.

Last night I went to bed after the news, deciding to put off the Daily Show until the next evening’s broadcast. That way I could get some ‘actual’ news instead of the ‘real’ news from Jon Stewart and company. I went to bed around 11:30 and fell asleep waking up at 3:00AM when Bill told me to turn off my alarm clock. I was right next to it and didn’t hear it, yet Bill did. That set me off a bit and had me waking up every hour on the hour.

Still, I woke up at 6:00 with Bill leaning over for a kiss. Shuffled along, singing my song, side by side. Got onto the bus on time, rode to the city again, reading the New Yorker and trying to pace myself because I wouldn’t have anything else to read for my return trip back to Hoboken. (Sidebar- I just went and check to see my alarm clock, set at 6:00 and the air conditioner was still in the window so there is no need to go downstairs and see to whomever it might be splayed under the air conditioning unit)

The office was a bit odd, with various people coming up to me and complaining about Vivek screaming and yelling throughout the day. Apparently this what it was like at his last company, the Orange Lion Investment Bank. But this is a smaller quieter office. So quiet it felt like people in the office could hear Pedro on the phone with me, all ‘nigga this and nigga that’. It’s his term of endearment for me. I never use the word myself, in fact I’ve been called that more than I have ever called anyone else that.

In fact, the first time I believe I was ever called that was when I was online at the Burger King in Harmon Meadow in Secaucus in the eighties. Maurice Menares, an old friend was on line as well and I hadn’t seen him. It was very crowded and most everyone was of a color that wasn’t white. I felt compelled to fall to my knees and offer 20 dollars to the nearest black man so that I could blow him, I was that intimidated. No wait that was Florida State Representative Bob Allen, not me. Anyway, there were many people of color and all of a sudden I hear, ‘Yo, John! What’s up nigga?’ Oh the looks I got. Not menacing or anything like that, just that I think it was the first time any of us in that Burger King ever heard a white person, me, called a nigga. Good times.

Republic of T, (to your right in the blogroll) has more of the story about Patrick Atkins and Brett Conrad, who I wrote about last night. You can cut and paste, can’t you?

http://www.republicoft.com/2007/08/07/strengthening-families/#more-1069

Well it’s been one of those (pardon my French), mother fucking days. It didn’t start out that way though. Waking up was a chore, probably as much of a chore as it is to read about me taking a shower, having a cuppa, and a bowl of cereal. It looked like rain which for a Monday was all that was needed. I couldn’t complain, I did have a three day weekend, spending time with Juan, Bill and Billie in that order, and I have to admit it was great having Bill laying in bed next to me last night. Not too close though because home boy emits waves of heat and it’s been too damn hot. A light touch here and there helped, not too much.

So I got out of bed and soon found myself waiting for the bus which wasn’t too crowded. I guess a lot of people took this week off. Good for them, good for me. I read Oliver Sacks article about people who suffer some sort of head trauma and wind up becoming obsessed with music. That could explain a lot about me. I did crack my head open three times when I was growing up. One time while playing in a standing hamper which fell over and I hit the back of my head on the metal frame of my bed. Blood everywhere. Before that, which I don’t remember, I was running through the kitchen while my mother was talking to Mrs. Grant from down the street. I had the misfortune to run past Mrs. Grant’s legs as she was crossing them, causing me to fly through the air and tearing open my forehead on the sharp edge of the ‘ice box’. The other time was when I fell out of Annemarie’s bed while she was away somewhere, I hit my head on the night stand. So where is my music Dr. Sacks? Hmmm? I should have enough for at least three symphonies, wouldn’t you think?

Work was weird. Vivek was mighty upset that Tom Chin left the office early. I knew he was leaving early, but Vivek didn’t want to hear it from me, he wanted to hear it from Tom Chin himself. So Tom Chin either got an earful this afternoon while he was at home, or he will get it tomorrow. Never saw Vivek so upset before, but I was just glad it really had nothing to do with me.

Throughout the day I come up with ideas on what to write and I was going to write a hatchet job about Maggie Alexandre, someone who tried to get me fired a couple of years ago. She was at the Human Be-In in San Francisco 40 years ago and all that, but no hippie chick she. After all she tried to fire me. But I came home and found two interesting stories courtesy of http://gay365.com.

One was about the Florida State Representative, Bob Allen. Seems like Bob Allen who has a hard on for anti gay measures. From 365gay.com: In the last session of the Florida legislature he sponsored a failed bill that would have tightened the state’s prohibition on public sex. He also has been a supporter of amending the state constitution to ban same-sex marriage and has opposed a bill to curb bullying of gay students.

What a guy that Bob is huh? Well last month, Mr. Married Man, Mr. Anti-Gay was busted for offering 20 dollars to an undercover cop. Seems that Bob Allen wanted to pay the cop so that the honorable state representative could blow the police officer. According to the statement recorded by the undercover cop, Bob Allen was nervous due to the amount of black people in the park area. Makes sense to me. Cut and paste time:
http://365gay.com/Newscon07/08/080607allen.htm

The other story from 365gay.com was the tried and true power ballad that’s been sung way too often. A gay couple, Patrick Atkins and Brett Conrad were together for 25 years. Patrick Atkins falls ill due to an anyeurism and a stroke, leaving him incapacitated. Brett gets to his side as soon as he can only to find Patrick’s parents having him banned from the hospital room. The hospital staff, sympathetic, bent the rules and got Patrick in to see Brett when the parents left. Then Brett was moved to a nursing home, where once again, the sympathetic staff snuck Patrick in, so he could care for the one that he’s loved for the past 25 years. Now Brett is in the ‘care’ of his family, at home, effectively killing most chances of Patrick seeing Brett again.
Cut and paste again:
http://365gay.com/Newscon07/08/080607indy.htm

This type of thing has been going on for ages now. This just one of the benefits that same sex marriage would allow, for a partner to care for and make decisions when the other is incapacitated. I can feel the opponents of same sex marriage cringing as they feel threatened by this fact. These are the types of people that make me sick.