L•I•F•E
I've spent the past few nights in bed with my manuscript This Beautiful Bizarre — the book that has been coming out for upwards of three years now. Once I get the final draft to the publisher later this month or early next month (before I go to Seattle at the end of August for sure — I hate flying with unfinished projects) I'm sure we'll have a more set publication time frame. Regardless, what is shaping up to be the final draft is, in all honesty, nothing of what the first draft was way back in 2006. Dare I say a poem from that first draft is even in this last one? I can recall one poem survived all the drafts actually, a poem called Life, dedicated to my mother; a poem about surviving. Irony at its finest, folks. The more I work with these poems the more excited I get about giving them to the world.
My weekend trip to Chicago was quick, but great (pictured). It was my third visit to 
My beautiful and husky 8lb 7oz bebe nephew Austin was born at 1:18pm this afternoon [Friday]. I arrived around 4:00pm to see him ... I am known as "Uncle Mike" or "Uncle Michael" depending on who you ask. He is healthy and loves to sleep and kick his legs. He already has his own pet horse! I'm very excited that I now have two infants in the family (my niece Sarah Grace was born last month) because this will allow me to get my feet wet for when I ... ...
I spent Sunday at the Zoo with SGW. I hadn't been to the Cincinnati Zoo, one of the best in the country, in years other than their lousy Festival of Lights during the holidays last year — at which its always freezing, there are no animals out, not even the polar bears or penguins, and it's always full of Republican families who hate gay people and want to throw them into the purana tank. It wasn't too crowded this time, despite it being Father's Day, another sham Hallmark holiday. There were a lot of hillibillies there, though, which is to be expected when it's a 'parent day' and the zoo is located very closely to hillibilly areas like all of Kentucky and most of Ohio and very nearby southern Indiana. The animals were all out on parade in their holding cells except for the White Tigers which Siegfried & Roy donated to the zoo in the 1890s when Sig and Roy were a middle-aged gay couple. My favorite part, as always, were the Giraffe, whom have their very own ridge now where you can buy a small Chex™-size wafer for $1.00 and stick it on their tongue (pictured), but you cannot pet the Giraffes because "they do not like to be petted."-Zookeeper (pictured). It was also Fuck Day at the zoo because we saw a bunch of animals fucking, mainly in World of the Insect, including two very green turtles who were doing it doggy-style, not that I think animals do it missionary or butterfly (not even butterflies fuck butterfly I bet) or over a lawn chair or the back-seat of a Pontiac Aztek or on a hot summer night on a Slip-N-Slide™ after the kids have gone to bed.
It never fails that wherever I am there is something happening. Yesterday afternoon around 5:30pm I got in the shower before heading out for the evening. When I was walking out of my house to leave I notice this (pictured) across the road from the driveway. I went up to the cab and looked inside and there was no one or no corpse inside and by this time Applejax the neighbor was walking by with Beagle the Beagle and said that the man was drunk and had ran from the scene just seconds after the crash. This is where the truck wound up, but it had gone in and out of the ditch at least three times. Had it been on the other side of the road he would've hit my car parked in the drive. People do a minimum of 70MPH down my nameless street, so it wouldn't surprise me if he was doing that when he hit the ditch. I didn't even bother calling police; I didn't want to get involved or miss my date with SGW. Apparently the guy skipped out on work for the afternoon and decided to nurse his blues with some holy water at the town bar. THEN, early this morning when I was driving home (around 2:30am) I was pulled over for no reason other than to see if I was drunk. I wasn't speeding, swerving, nothing. I have a clean driving record. The cop literally said "I am just checking to see if you are drunk." He ran a red light just to pull me over for this. He also asked if I had any drugs in the car ... who in their right mind would say "yes, I do." I didn't, for the record. I don't do drugs, nor do I drink. The cop was so close to my face I thought we were on a third date or something. He did have pretty brown eyes and I do melt over men in uniforms, but he talked like Batman from The Dark Knight — like he needed a Ricola™ or something, or like a smoker talks when they have ruined their vocal cords. Thank God he didn't look at the front of my car, someone stole my license plate last week and I'm not getting the new ones until the current ones, er one, expires at the end of this month.
My amazingly talented and beautiful boyfriend finished his artist diploma program at the College Conservatory of Music-University of Cincinnati this weekend — as well as made his debut with the Cincinnati Chamber Orchestra. He says he is "never setting foot onto a college campus again unless it's to teach." He now holds four degrees and has already performed around the world with more engagements into next year, including an audition at the mother of all opera companies. I just wanted to let you, Nathan, and the whole small world who reads this blog know how proud I am of your educational accomplishments and your continued success as an opera singer, actor, and artist. Aside from these beautiful parts of you, there is the most important part of all - your unwavering love and devotion to me and your family & friends. In 1997 when doctors gave you only a 20% chance to live after that awful car crash, we the people of your life and your admirers and patrons around the globe had no idea how close we were to losing you. On behalf of all of them I say we are so grateful you are here with us to give us your love and your art. You are nothing short of a miracle. You are ... my California Angel. 
Paris Hilton was in town the other night while Nathan & I were downtown. We were just a block away from her bald pussy. We couldn't get any closer without catching some sort of airborne Paris Hilton STD or getting sucked into that va-jay-jay (pictured) of hers. Okay in all seriousness, Paris Hilton was in town the other night while Nathan and I were downtown. We were just a block away from her bald pussy. We couldn't get any closer without catching some sort of airborne Paris Hilton STD or getting suck into that va-jay-jay (pictured) of hers. Ha! Get it? She was being paid to show up at a club that's closing. That's a double What The Fuck. Paying a filthy rich girl to come to your club and the club is closing. Okay, truthfully, I like Paris Hilton a lot. I know she's fake dumb and there are pictures and videos of her all over the Holy Internet of her sucking 8===O and taking it in the rear, but so what - celebrity fascination is as natural as masturbation. Happy Friday!
We buried my paternal Grandfather a year ago this week — he died 31 May 2008. In the year since he's been gone I've thought a lot about him and especially the last time I saw him (pictured), just four days before his sudden death. In the last few years of his life I only got to see him a handful of times. Butchie, as he was called by all of his eight sisters, was from the old school, as you will and from the school of hard knocks, as many of us are. Even though I came out in 1999 as homosexual, Grandpa never mentioned it. Fast forward nine years, to 2008, when I see him for the first time in two years in what would be the last time. He knew a long-term relationship with my boyfriend had just ended. He asked me if I had found a new boyfriend yet. My mother, sister, and step-dad were sitting out on the back deck with him and I and you could see the shock on everyone's face. I said that I hadn't. He then said "well, find yourself a rich boyfriend." Well, Grandpa, here we are a year later and guess what, I have found myself the best boyfriend in the world. Rich or poor I could care less and as you well know having buried the love of your life sixteen years before your death, love is all that matters which is exactly why we all miss you, Butchie.
Ten years ago today — May 27, 1999 — I graduated from high school in what is considered by many to be the biggest miracle of the twentieth century. Here I am pictured with my mother on the day; a lady who has been my rock for these very changing ten years which I have to say have flown by. As far as I know there is no reunion, not that I would've attended.
Since I'm a Twittering poet (though I never Tweet about poetry, poets, or the self-centered and mundane world of poets) I was invited to submit a poem to OCHO Magazine for their special Poets Who Twitter issue due out next month. They will be publishing my poem The Empire Love Letter which is actually one of my favorite poems that I drafted first on this blog two years ago so I am elated it has found a home (it will also be in my book). 
©2009 Montgomery Maxton Photography
Today I found these little fellas in the tree next to the driveway. They are robins and their fourth sibling was still in an egg at the bottom of the nest — I'm guessing a dud. I've named the three: Musa, Pook, and Ibis. If fourth egg is hatched it will be named Cambria. Mother Meriwether Robinson is hunting food constantly and seems to be nesting properly.
When I arrived at my parents' house a little after 5pm Tuesday to pick-up my sister for dinner I was unable to park in the drive because there was a police car there! I thought for sure I was finally going to make my COPS debut. Mom & Papa G. live in a quiet suburb of Cincinnati so they were shocked to learn that overnight someone stole four of the twelve solar lights they had 'planted' in their front lawnscaping. They just put them in over the weekend and I saw them on Sunday when I was there for Mother's Day — they looked great. There are some people who half-ass plant them and they're all lopsided and falling over in the slightest wind, but their's were expensive and planted well. I've always said they have the nicest house in the neighborhood — it's actually kind of out-of-place. If anyone saw four solar lights being walked-briskly or ran through their neighborhood overnight (picture it), please contact the authorities. Quite frankly my sister and I took up lawn chairs in the drive to watch the cop do his job and let me put this PG-13, we were wanting to ice the cake and were arguing over who could get to 'lick the mixer' of the extra batter. We'd like for whoever stole the stars to please continue to steal them, but at a rate of one at a time, so the cop has to keep coming back.
Best.Mother.Ever.
©2009 Montgomery Maxton Photography
This afternoon while leaving Starbucks I had this thought "I've been here a year, why not get a group of the guys I've befriended here over the past year together for dinner." I feel like I've neglected some my friendships for awhile— primary reason being because I've taken to this project called writing a novel— so I thought this was a brilliant idea to say thanks for your friendship (though I totally made them pay for their own dinners). From the left with their blog alias': Edward (aka Romeo), yours truly, Zachary (aka Cowboy Z), Ronnie (aka Irish), and Justin. Paul, whom I've also befriended and consider a good friend, is taking the photo. All were looking gorgeous. Post dinner a couple of us checked out the new Star Trek film — I have never been a trekkie nor have I watched a single episode of the series, but I actually enjoyed it. Chris Pine in tiny boxer briefs? Count me in.
Spring on my nameless road. May 07, 2009
Sometimes I think, I swear, I see things out of the corner of my eye and I rush home or to dinner or somewhere where I'm around people — which isn't that many places because I've turned into a recluse really & I hate the general public so I go out at night when everyone is asleep — but sometimes I know I see things and when I tell one of the humans I come in contact with what I know I saw they say things like "You're crazy," or "You're not all there," or my favorite "You ain't right, Mike" — (their list is usually very long). So last week I was like "OhmyfuckingGod, a Burger King sign just wizzed by my window!" I also just happened to be snapping a photo.
This evening I was sitting on the tailgate of my brother's truck (pictured, right) parked in the driveway while he was nearby working in the garage on a 1994 Toyota Camary which he said was in good shape except for the oil leak that he was fixing and we were talking the talk two brothers two years apart in age talk while sipping on our fast food fountain sodas and this American Crow (pictured, upper left) kept dive-bombing my head and eventually it took perch on the roof pitch so I snapped a few photographs of it. I was wearing my season 2009 GAP navy & white striped sweater and season 2008 Old Navy cargo shorts with my season 2009 American Eagle flip flops because it was kind of chilly today but not entirely chilly enough to have to wear pants. Sometimes I think out here in the fields it gets 10° warmer and 10° cooler than what the plastic-looking wxman says on television so it's best just to dress bipolar for warm and cool, which is fitting if you know me because you'd know I don't exactly conform well to the norms of society which is why I grocery shop after midnight and someday when I get up enough courage to do it I'm going to grocery shop in a witch hat and cape and I'd like to be drunk when I do that— but because society is somewhat okay with men dressed as witches grocery shopping after midnight they are not okay with drunk people grocery shopping even though I think it would make the time in the self-scan checkout lane even more fun than it already is when that robot lady commands you to do stuff or she'll threaten the strobe light to go off and bring the big bad teenager over to assist you who just got promoted to shift lead so he's all up in your Kool-Aid knowing it all. Maybe this is why all the drunks are always standing out in the gravel parking lot of the town bar when I speed by (allegedly) doing 75 in a 55 around 2am when I'm heading home from Nate's and they are all pointing at the moon and laughing — maybe drunks have it all figured out and here we are treating them like ... drunks. Actually that was insensitive to people who have been hurt by drunks, like me last year when Chuck the Creep™ (as my dear friend calls him, which I think is a nice name considering the ones I have for him) punched me in the chest when he was drunk and driving and ran a stop sign even though we just drove by a cop and I said he shouldn't run stop signs and WAAM! 
Flower Box on a Purple Wall 
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