I Could Give All To Time

It's been awhile since I tumbled across a new poem. For some reason I was thinking about Wally Stegner at lunch. Hell if I know why. He was a friend of my grandparents, but I wasn't really being nostalgic. It was just one of those random thoughts that seem to wander in out of the ether: hey, I wonder where Wally Stegner got the title to his books?

Like I said, random. But I googled Angle of Repose [which turns out to be the angle that an aggregate forms while resting on a slope] and Crossing to Safety. And I found a wonderful poem by Robert Frost, one that I'm not sure I knew before, but that seemed quite appropriate for the day.

I Could Give All To Time

To Time it never seems that he is brave
To set himself against the peaks of snow
To lay them level with the running wave,
Nor is he overjoyed when they lie low,
But only grave, contemplative and grave.

What now is inland shall be ocean isle,
Then eddies playing around a sunken reef
Like the curl at the corner of a smile;
And I could share Time's lack of joy or grief
At such a planetary change of style.

I could give all to Time except - except
What I myself have held. But why declare
The things forbidden that while the Customs slept
I have crossed to Safety with? For I am There,
And what I wouldnot part with I have kept.

Christmas is When???

Payday! And I can breathe a little easier now. I budgeted for my vacation, started work a few days after getting back, and thought I had everything under control. I must have miscounted pay periods – this is my first paycheck since early October. It’s been tight.

So Christmas is going to be coming late this year. Even if I mail things out this evening, nothing will arrive until January. Oh well. Late holidays are a bit of a tradition in my family. My friends will just have to adjust.

I hung lights, so haven’t been totally lame. And I did go to quite a few parties already. Haulani had hers last night, went to Dolan’s [new workmate] with Dawn Friday and hung with the Punahou crowd, and cooked for Ron’s birthday last Tuesday. Did the North Shore weekend with the guys, and the surf was amazing and the Waimea Lifeguard’s party full of the world’s buff and beautiful. Before that it was the big party hosted by the Hawai`i Kai trio full of the gay world’s buff and beautiful [and invisible – where do these boys hide out the rest of the year?]

All good. And I’m amazingly alright being single. I’ve only spent two of the last ten holiday seasons as part of a real couple. Add two years where I was in ambiguous situations, two with lovers, and one where I was dumped half-way through, and that still leaves almost half of them starring me, flying solo and keeping a stiff upper lip about the whole thing.

But last Christmas was so, so full of ugly incidents that I have no nostalgia at all for married life.

Although midnight New Years eve –when everyone falls into the arms of their lover for a kiss – will be as rough as always. I’ll have to scope out the bachelors’ corner ahead of time.

What else? I restocked the pond [two blue gouramis, two angelfish, one peacock eel, two golden algae eaters, and six shark – 2 bala, 2 red tail, and 2 albino]. The only survivors of the massacre were the goldfish, five electric yellow cichlid fry, and the two albino cichlids. The nocturnal pleco, eel, and shovelmouths are still unaccounted for.

Been to Max’s twice since I’ve been back. And it was horrifying both times - truly and utterly horrifying. There is nothing left to redeem that place. Nightlife is suffering with Big Tom gone. I went to Angles for the first time in a year, but it still sucked. Hula’s has been a bit better – they finally opened up the dancefloor. R. has been spending plenty of time there. But, basically – gay life in this town is just not happening this year outside of private and one-off events.

And – as of last Monday – I am an official state worker. I’m still adjusting to the idea.

Tragedy in the Garden

At the end of last week my fish started dying. I found one of my Bala Sharks face up in the pond one morning. Poor thing. I fished him out and tossed him in the compost. That afternoon a second shark died. That was a bit odd. There was no sign of disease or stress. I had put in two new Shovelmouth Catfish, but Sharks are jumpers - if the other fish had harassed them they would have lept out of the pond.

The next day the reamining three sharks died. That hurt - I liked my curious little sharks. They were already up to six inches - only half their full size - and I was looking forward to seeing them full grown. I figured there was some mysterious shark disease going around.

Day three, and lots of fish were acting funny. The fat goldfish was swimming upside down. The yellow cichlids were bumping into things. No one was eating. I didn't know what to do. In the next two days the two clown loaches, both adult yellow cichlids, and one of the juveniles went KO. I couldn't figure out what the problem was, and was worried that I'd lose them all.

I finally changed all the water. That seemed to help - the survivors started eating again. Then yesterday I found the culprit: a new brand of fertilizer spikes I had used for the taro.

So now I need to restock. The survivors: four Ryukin, one adult and one spawn albino cichlid, a striped cichlid, one shovelmouth, and a few [not sure how many] yellow cichlid spawn.

Still missing in action: my eel [who I never see unless I clean], the pleco [who I rarely see], the golden algae eater, the juvenile red shark, the blue cichlid, one of the striped cichlids, and the four remaining juvie yellow cichlids.

That just hurts.

Heading to the North Shore after work for the Hale Aikane weekend. Ken rented out the beach house, Dirk is cooking, I've got a load of wine from Fujioka's - I'm ready to go. This is my last day with Forestry, and I'm itching to get out of here and laze for two days on the beach. Waves are big, and the Eddie Aikau might happen. Here's hoping ...

Bad King Wencelas

Ah well. Didn't make it through the weekend without smokes. Bummed one off of Kevin and one off of Roy Friday night. Saturday had a moment of anxiety before volunteering and bought a pack. Smoked half of it. Had five yesterday. Today I’m a bit on edge, but I'm not totally at the beginning. This feels more like a day 3 of no smokes than a day 1.

Met Dawn pau hana Friday and went to Indigo's. We missed the pupus, so it only took two martinis for me to get a bit trashed. We met some guys from Istanbul, and talked with them most of the early evening. They were very handsome [I thought: Dawn said their eyes were too close together], and very straight. And I was a bad fag. A friend came over, and his eyes just lit up when he saw them. I didn't feel like being outed, and I definitely didn't feel like watching my friend slime all over these guys.

So I blocked access. The friend was all guttural noises, all hmmm and ohhh and oooh, as he tried to make eye contact with the Turks. And I pulled the butch act: yo, how you been? and all that, and made sure I kept my body between them.

Later hooked up with Kevin and Garret, hit a couple galleries, ate Vietnamese with Dawn, then headed home.

Saturday was surf, then my first Civil Defense activation for the City Lights festival. I told my friends I was working security. Hah. My job? Checking to make sure folks parking in the handicap lot really were handicapped.

It was excruciatingly boring. I was stuck in the parking garage for three hours. I was wondering how I got into this. Civil Defense Volunteer sounds sexy. And here it turns out we're nothing more than glorified crossing guards. I tried to tell myself that every roll is important, that we're all part of one system, that England expects every man to do his duty and that I was fulfilling my civic responsibilities and that this was a good thing - but honestly: I wasn't feeling it. It didn't help that there was a Scotsman playing bagpipes in the garage. And when he was joined by a friend life became downright painful.

This is surely one of the rings, if not of hell, then at least of purgatory: being stuck in an underground parking garage with perfect acoustics while two mad Scotsmen play Good King Wencelas on the bagpipe. You wonder if these people have any friends, or if they're like Trekkies - the only people who can handle them are others with the same fetish.

After our dinner break it was time to head outside and do some crowd control. This is more like it, I thought. We broke up into teams .. and I was assigned to the parking garage. Again. Only difference was this time I had a radio. I got to listen to all the excitement. We need back up on Alapa`i! We can't control the crowd on King Street! Get those chicos off of Kapi`olani! And there was trouble with the police, and there was trouble with the Department of Transportation. And everyone got an adrenalin rush but me.

Finally, at 8:15 - five hours after I arrived - I was summoned by radio to the surface. Oh joy. It was crowd controlling time! I finally got to have some fun! I didn't get to bust open any heads - I was more excuse me sir can you step back onto the sidewalk? than the more macho cops who just yelled at folks. I did get to help a lost child find his uncle, and that felt good. And I decided that I really did like this gig after all.

Death in the Water

Finally got back in the water this morning. It felt good. I'd been kind fo nervous about going back in - I lost a lot of my confidence trying to surf on the North Shore last winter. I thought I could handle, and that I'd enter the summer surfing like a pro. Instead I was terrified most of the time. I tried to convince myself that it was a matter of willpower, of conquering your fear. Then John Mozo died, and the kid at Banzai shattered his leg leaning too far into a tube.

I decided my fear was there for a good reason.

Another surfer, Malik Joyeux from Tahiti, died at Pipeline yesterday. I heard in the water this morning that another kid from Kalihi had broken his neck, but his story wasn't in the papers. The news had a video of Malik disappearing. It looked insane - 60 guys in the water, all chasing the tube at Pipes. The sport has gotten way too popular. It was already crowded ten years ago. Now it's insane.

This morning I went to Canoes at ten - close to the time the old Surf Club used to go. There were a couple beginners online at the yahoo site who were talking about going, but I never heard back from any of 'em. It was a moderately decent day - good enough for someone who hasn't been out in three months. Waves were hip high, and fun enough. I caught a few early on, and then it got crowded. Soon you couldn't catch a wave without someone crashing into you. Good thing things were slow. And by 10:30 the break had closed out, with a solid line of beginners blocking everyone's way. That was a bit early - close out time used to be noon.

Day 5

No night time cig last night, no patch today, and I. am. on. edge. I do alright as long as I keep moving. Having food in my stomach also helps. It's when I have to stop, stay still, and function that things get a bit tense. I haven't snapped at anyone yet. Or at least, anyone who didn't have it coming.

And I'm looking a bit ragged, too. I don't know if it's real, or that I'm projecting. Either way, it's par for the course. I'll look [or think I look] rough for two weeks, and then when the nicotine has drained out of my system I'll suddenly notice that my skin has cleared up a bit and that some of the lines have decreased and I'll look [or think I look] ten years younger. Just got to make it to that point.

I'm meeting Dawn in a few minutes for First Friday. I want to wake up early tomorrow and hit the surf - some chicks online wanted to learn - so probably won't stay up late. Pupus, wine, and bed.

Tomorrow is the big Hawai`i Kai Party. I'm not sure if I'll make it, which is rough - this is one of the major gay parties of the year. If not The Party. At least ... it's The Party of the ones I actually get invited to. Not that I get invited to this one. I crash it. As do a couple hundred other guys. There's a pool, plenty of liquor, go go boys, lots of men - toutes le monde.

... sans moi. I volunteered to work security at the Christmas Parade. Yesterday I was wondering why more gay men don't volunteer in the wider community, why it's always either AIDS or art that seems to get most of our attention.

And now I know. It's because we would miss all the fabulous parties.

Day 4

Day four no smokes. Or almost none - I've had one before bed each night. I put on the last sliver of patch this morning. This weekend wsill be tough. Meeting Dawn for First Friday tomorrow night, and have a full day OCDA activation on Saturday.

Status check: a little hyper and speedy, but still focused. Appetite is solid - I'm more or less permanently hungry. I cut my workout short yesterday because I needed to grind. Energy level is good, though - I've had really solid sessions at the gym. I'm not feeling social at all, though. Roy wanted to talk last night. I wanted to read & not deal with him or anybody. Weight is good, skin is good. Lungs are starting to clear out, and I woke up this morning with a nasty taste in my mouth. I tossed and turned a lot last night. I have minor cravings, but nothing too bad.