'We're getting old Thomas" he said, referring to my recent bout with Scitica. "There's one good thing about this" i said, "At least we can refer to these as 'sports Injuries', that carries with it an air of athletic respect, don't you think?'

He laughed and felt a little less old. That's my present to him today.

I'm nicky new guy when it comes to blogs, so I spent an enthusiastic morning researching the general consensus on the subject. Seems they come in all types and levels of technology. Mostly just people who are part exhibitionist and those who like to hear themselves type. I'm getting great ideas hourly, and today installed the guest book, old journal entries and some audio for your entertianment(see jimmy's exit)

More old journals to come soon, as well as maybe some fiction and a song or two. Stay posted, come back soon, check back often and for christs sake- SIGN THE GUESTBOOK! Please~

Feedback to this article HERE

The Elephant-man Formula
I am on my back with feet up, keyboard on my lap because I have no memory for what is important.
I can remember the smell of my grandma's apartment in upstate NY, (which is something between mothballs, lysol and cheap french perfume) I can remember the phone number of my best freind in high school, I can even remember the shape of the birthmark on the ass of a cute dancer on the bar of the the boom Boom room in Laguna in 1994, but I have so much trouble remembering that when I feel that familiar twinge in my back, to go and lie down.
Instead i engage in activities that will soon compromise my condition down to the levels of "crippling" and send me crawling like a turtle to the chiropractor's office. I worked on a bike on my knees, helped a friend wire his house for surround sound, drank a sixpack of beer and sat slouched on a understuffed sofa during a homoerotic b movie and ate pizza.

When i woke up. I was so wracked with muscle spasms I was doing a John Merrick imitation all the way to the bathroom, and felt twice as ugly (Hint:"I am not an animal!")

I called in the troops and speedialed Winslow.
"I'm going to need a ride to Dr. Kam's this morning, I'm in pretty bad shape"

His answering machine nodded in agreement, and he was at my door within the hour.

'What happened?" he asked surprised "When I left you at the end of that great movie you were fine!"

I didn't know how to tell him that it was a series of boring and seemingly innocent events that led to this mishap, so I made something up about pulling an old couple from a burning building "About an hour after you left!"

He bought it, but I had to come up with clever details on my back in the van on the drive over to see the Dr.
After my chiro snapped my sacrum back into the proper position, and my compass was once again facing North, we headed me back to the house and set up a temp office in the living room so I can work one of my busiest days of the week (saturday) and still watch TV. It hurts to sneeze, cough or laugh out loud. You can imagine what else hurts so I won't be visiting any porn sites while in this condition either.

'I'm a cripple!" is what I keyed into Microsoft Instant messenger to my office in Dominica, W.I. " I had a blow-out, I'm on my back and i can barely walk!" I omitted the reference to the elephant man, they don't watch much TV down there that isn't sports related. I doubted if they would get it.
"That's nasty" came the reply, quickly followed by "We need all our forms updated within the hour!"

It seems mercy doesn't upload easily, so no slack was cut.

"If you can chat, you can work!" and so it goes, but at my pace. It still takes me 20 minutes just to pee. Have you tried to get your fly open with one hand while holding yourself up against the wall with the other? it isn't easy.I leanred the hard way ( no pun intended ) to head for the Loo BEFORE my bladder is full enough to burst. There's only so much '"Nursing" Winslow is willing to provide.

As I left Louis and Shannon's house last night, Louis calmly looked me in the eye and said "Please come to the party on Sunday, even if it's only for a little while." This confused the hell out of me, because both of them and I know of my notoriuos reputation for being the last to leave a party. I am so bent on hooking up at these great L.A. Gay events that I end up sizing up the hosts by the end of the evening, and eventually walking in on them in the bathroom in the morning. I've bought breakfast for L&S more times than I care to mention, and I ALWAYS promise myself on the lonely walk to my car, the afternoon sun blaring in my bloodshot eyes that I will NEVER EVER stay so long at a party again. So this remark fom Louis I found a bit disturbing, until now. YES he knows me so well that a "please come to my party" under normal circumstances seems silly, but he also knows me well enough to predict where I'll be for the next couple of days when I'm, "walking in that PAINED way". He knew today I'd be cripped up better than I did. Maybe I should get this incident on video to help me remember: Put the toilet seat dowm when there are female guests about, don't leave the cheese platter on the coffee table when the dogs are about, cover your mouth when you sneeze, and when you feel the old back twinge- get your butt to bed!!

More hell to come.

Posted by tommy 8/30/03

The Cricket in the heart
t I truly thought that meant HUMOR- GOT TO MAKE IT FUNNY, WITTY, CATTY! I realized tonight I might not be able to pull that off, because I get moved so easily, and I think these moving moments, the ones that remind me that I'm alive, are worthy of documentation. Maybe I should let you decide that though.

I asked my new friend BP'er if he'd like to see a movie with me tonight. I'm feeling adventurous enough to meander outside the perimeters of my house and into the throws of our Silverlake neighborhood. Johnny B went out last night, and He advised I see "American Splendor" at the Vista theatre down the street on Sunset.
I had my doubts, but of all that is playing in Silverlake tonight (I hate Kevin Costner for both his faded acting skills, and for thinking that anyone wants to see hIm or anyone else in western in the year of our Lord-2003) America Splendor was the lesser of four evils. To end this thought- go see this film, you walk out with a smile on your face.

We got the tix and hour and a half early and wandered into a book store to wait it out.
We peroused through the travel section and I found this great little volume that spoke to me: an autographed copy of "Yoga for people who can't be bothered to do it".(Amazon.com)

It has a review on the back cover by Steve Martin, so I knew it was written for me.
It felt good in my hand, just the right size, and I knew I was going to burn through this book fast, maybe in one night. As I headed for the cash counter to seal the deal, we turned a corner and found a large childrens book on a shelf with an illustration on the cover that looked vaguely familiar. It was a small group of beautifully drawn children riding on the back of a large, black cricket. When I saw that cricket profile, with those long tapered antennae sloping into the foreground, my heart went into my throat.

It was a large book entitled "Celebrate Cricket-30 years of Stories and Art" and I was 11 years old again.

Cricket was a small, readers-digest-like magazine for pre-adolescents, a 6 month subscription that for some odd, unexplainable reason My mother bought for me when I was a boy.

The strange thing about Cricket to me was that it was in my life at all.
Being Tommy, of Michelletomantim, my childhood seemed much like my name in that huge word- somewhere lost in the middle. I had nothing of my own, ever, that was the rule. Anything I needed was Michelle's first, anything I wanted I had to share with Tim. So the fact that Cricket was mine, for me, "Tommy's subscription to cricket", was a miracle. Another miracle was that no one else wanted it, I didn't have to share it, and still the weird fact that I wanted it too. It was all fiction with beautiful illustrations, not a comic book-but pages and pages of stories that I had to READ- like a real BOOK! This was completely the opposite of what my television mind ever desired- intellectual stimulation was not even a blip on the radar of my mind and yet in these small volumes I was ENTHRALLED. Maybe this explains why short-story novels always were my favorite reads, or why sleepless nights can only be calmed by a book.

Another Miracle was that it was not something I had ever seen on anyone elses shelf, or at school. or talked about on T.V. It seemed, and until now I firmly believed, it existed only in my mind. Unlike Star Trek, or ZOOM the TV show, or HIGHLITES the childrens magazine, Cricket was not something I ever overheard anyone remeniscing about. No one ever mentioned ever reading this little book, the volumes that I wasted so many flashlight batteries trying to read. Until tonight I completely had forgotten about it.
As BP and I rounded the corner into the childrens section, and the heart-stopping moment occurred, the next miracle happened. BP said "Oh,my God, Cricket! I loved that magazine as a kid!"
I was dumbfounded! "You read this too?" I asked. "Yeah" he said mildly, and opened the book to reveal even more childhood memories " I remember this story, and this drawing too, I had that issue" I wanted to cry, but instead i bought the book.

When BP drove me home I asked him inside for a moment, and signed this huge book off to him "To My Fellow Cricketeer- happy memories" or something like that. I know it will be in my hands again, and I'll read the stories, and look at the illustrations again. But more than that I really liked the idea of sharing it. Maybe that's why it's been gone from my life and my thoughts for so long- I never shared it with anyone, and it seems that for 25 years I have paid some kind of price for that.
So tell your children, there's more to sharing than giving someone else the chance to use your stuff- It's the memories that get cloned when you do share that keeps your joys fresh in your head. It's a complex concept, but I think they'll get it. Good night- and thanks for letting me share.

Posted by tommy 9/2/2003

Feedback to this article HERE

Will the "Three's Company" references ever stop?
Happy Labor Day Y'all.
I woke up this morning scared to death that I may have done some permanent damage. I know I sound foolish, but I could not stand to be in this house another minute. I was bored, tired of being tired, and in an exquisite place of wanton restlessness. I had to get the hell outta dodge for a few hours. I did It and I knew at the time it was a bad idea.
"I'll just show up and hang for a few minutes and get the hell outta there" I told myself, knowing full well that after a couple of martinis I'd do nothing of the kind.I am of course talking about Louis and Shannon's Party.
It was a 70's theme, with most people rationalizing their thrift-store couture and their mussy uncut hair as part of a well-planned effort to make this party boogie, as if they saw this contrived concept coming- Pah-leeeze!.

The host(ess) came shuffling to the door in 6 inch pumps, a two-tone wig and cut off shorts looking like a "Mrs. Roper Does Daisey Duke" kinda Thang. I suggested she grab a bucket and start hozing down the land cruizer. "We'll make millions in calanders!" I chimed, and was dramatically ignored. Louis was wearing 70's gym wear, apparently a latin version of "Good Times" . If it seems uncreative I apologize, 70's sitcoms are all I have for reference here. I did not participate in the 70's, I observed the entire decade from the front of my zenith in living color, and lived it vicariously. The closest I got to experiencing the 70's was a few hours toying with my cousins etch-a-sketch which to me looked amusingly like a Television set. That and a pod of silly-putty is all I remember of reality, the rest is an exquisite blur of cereal commercials, educational cartoon melodies and crazy antics with my onscreen roomates, Jack, Chrissy and Janet,

The party went well aside from the fact that I ddn't know a single soul there, and they were all beautiful, which may too well explain why I had the high-school-memory-induced deja Vu that I may have some wee amount of trouble fitting in. This was no longer a "70's Theme" but an all-out twilight-zone time warp. They were all young and hip and scared to death that this nerdy guy would start talking to them and never stop, effectively cramping their styles and ruining their night. I did have fun on the dance floor though, softly shuffling my feet, medicated on 800 miiligram ibuprofins and hard lemonaid. A cute, smallish boy named Omar danced at, near, against, with and eventually for me , at one point putting my hands on his hips in an effort to introduce me to this new thing called "rhythm". I had heard of it before, but my drugs were setting me off by a beat or two, numbing my efforts to give a damn. He stormed off the floor exasperated at the fact that I could not keep up and I was missing the fun. I was having fun of my own making a game of some drug-induced vertigo when a little voice advised I either follow Omar into the bathroom, or make for the front door.

I slipped out unnoticed,

Regardless of my late night hijinx my morning was surprisingly pain-free, and I got a lot of work done. To my complete JOY I was actually able to take myself to potty several times with nary a limp- so congratulate me kids, I actually did LABOR on Labor day.

New music from Fanny Pack coming soon- and a word or two about my recent house guest, the famous DK.

Posted by tommy 9/1/2003

Feedback to this article HERE

'We're getting old Thomas" he said, referring to my recent bout with Scitica. "There's one good thing about this" i said, "At least we can refer to these as 'sports Injuries', that carries with it an air of athletic respect, don't you think?'

He laughed and felt a little less old. That's my present to him today.

I'm nicky new guy when it comes to blogs, so I spent an enthusiastic morning researching the general consensus on the subject. Seems they come in all types and levels of technology. Mostly just people who are part exhibitionist and those who like to hear themselves type. I'm getting great ideas hourly, and today installed the guest book, old journal entries and some audio for your entertianment(see jimmy's exit)

More old journals to come soon, as well as maybe some fiction and a song or two. Stay posted, come back soon, check back often and for christs sake- SIGN THE GUESTBOOK! Please~

Feedback to this article HERE

The Elephant-man Formula
I am on my back with feet up, keyboard on my lap because I have no memory for what is important.
I can remember the smell of my grandma's apartment in upstate NY, (which is something between mothballs, lysol and cheap french perfume) I can remember the phone number of my best freind in high school, I can even remember the shape of the birthmark on the ass of a cute dancer on the bar of the the boom Boom room in Laguna in 1994, but I have so much trouble remembering that when I feel that familiar twinge in my back, to go and lie down.
Instead i engage in activities that will soon compromise my condition down to the levels of "crippling" and send me crawling like a turtle to the chiropractor's office. I worked on a bike on my knees, helped a friend wire his house for surround sound, drank a sixpack of beer and sat slouched on a understuffed sofa during a homoerotic b movie and ate pizza.

When i woke up. I was so wracked with muscle spasms I was doing a John Merrick imitation all the way to the bathroom, and felt twice as ugly (Hint:"I am not an animal!")

I called in the troops and speedialed Winslow.
"I'm going to need a ride to Dr. Kam's this morning, I'm in pretty bad shape"

His answering machine nodded in agreement, and he was at my door within the hour.

'What happened?" he asked surprised "When I left you at the end of that great movie you were fine!"

I didn't know how to tell him that it was a series of boring and seemingly innocent events that led to this mishap, so I made something up about pulling an old couple from a burning building "About an hour after you left!"

He bought it, but I had to come up with clever details on my back in the van on the drive over to see the Dr.
After my chiro snapped my sacrum back into the proper position, and my compass was once again facing North, we headed me back to the house and set up a temp office in the living room so I can work one of my busiest days of the week (saturday) and still watch TV. It hurts to sneeze, cough or laugh out loud. You can imagine what else hurts so I won't be visiting any porn sites while in this condition either.

'I'm a cripple!" is what I keyed into Microsoft Instant messenger to my office in Dominica, W.I. " I had a blow-out, I'm on my back and i can barely walk!" I omitted the reference to the elephant man, they don't watch much TV down there that isn't sports related. I doubted if they would get it.
"That's nasty" came the reply, quickly followed by "We need all our forms updated within the hour!"

It seems mercy doesn't upload easily, so no slack was cut.

"If you can chat, you can work!" and so it goes, but at my pace. It still takes me 20 minutes just to pee. Have you tried to get your fly open with one hand while holding yourself up against the wall with the other? it isn't easy.I leanred the hard way ( no pun intended ) to head for the Loo BEFORE my bladder is full enough to burst. There's only so much '"Nursing" Winslow is willing to provide.

As I left Louis and Shannon's house last night, Louis calmly looked me in the eye and said "Please come to the party on Sunday, even if it's only for a little while." This confused the hell out of me, because both of them and I know of my notoriuos reputation for being the last to leave a party. I am so bent on hooking up at these great L.A. Gay events that I end up sizing up the hosts by the end of the evening, and eventually walking in on them in the bathroom in the morning. I've bought breakfast for L&S more times than I care to mention, and I ALWAYS promise myself on the lonely walk to my car, the afternoon sun blaring in my bloodshot eyes that I will NEVER EVER stay so long at a party again. So this remark fom Louis I found a bit disturbing, until now. YES he knows me so well that a "please come to my party" under normal circumstances seems silly, but he also knows me well enough to predict where I'll be for the next couple of days when I'm, "walking in that PAINED way". He knew today I'd be cripped up better than I did. Maybe I should get this incident on video to help me remember: Put the toilet seat dowm when there are female guests about, don't leave the cheese platter on the coffee table when the dogs are about, cover your mouth when you sneeze, and when you feel the old back twinge- get your butt to bed!!

More hell to come.

Posted by tommy 8/30/03