My God, I haven't been on this site in ages. But I was digging for a post I'd made somewhere at sometime about a particular thing, and holy shit here it was, still! Which got me back on the site, which got me reading through some old stuff of mine, some stuff of people I know/knew. I've got (unbelievably bad) poetry on this site from 12 years ago. It's unbelievable, really, just how much of my life from age 15 to 24 is here. And how deadly real it all was at the time. I survived coming out because of Oasis. I came through running away from home at 15, going to Woodstock '99, manic depression, the death of a partner, drugs (twice), getting kicked out of school, moving back home at 23, all this stuff.

It's hard to believe sometimes that it all actually happened to me. It's almost like I don't even really remember it anymore, I remember telling stories about it. And once you tell a story about a thing so many times, the story sort of becomes the memory, you know? And there are other parts, the parts you don't tell stories about. The parts you want to forget. Sometimes I feel like I've done too good a job of forgetting. It's hard to think about it sometimes, like actually difficult to recall. I don't know, I'm rambling. It's odd, is all. The past, and our relationships with it.

But here it all is, all I have to do is click "my journal" and there it is. Like it was yesterday. Like it was happening now. I'm not sure how to process it, I'm not sure how I feel about this person I'm reading about. It's like... like meeting someone that you haven't seen for years, but thought about... No. It's not like anything. I'm sorry, I walked away from the keyboard for a while here in the middle of this and I'm having a really hard time picking back up. Maybe it'll come to me later. Maybe it's not important. Let's move on.

Jeff, Adrian, thank you. Thanks for keeping this going all these years. I was talking about this with a friend of mine today while I was away from the keyboard in the middle of this, and he had a very similar story of a web space that was very important to him as a young man, and the friends he made there, and the difference it made in his life. But like so many of the sites that made up the early web, it's not there anymore. I thought "what a tragedy that is, that such a central piece of someone's life could just vanish." I'm glad that hasn't happened here. You have touched so many lives with this thing. Today you touched mine again.

To everyone who who's still here that remembers me, even if you only replied to a journal entry one time to say "stay strong," thanks. There were times when this site was some of the only positive reinforcement I got. You helped make me, and I've never forgotten it. Drop me a message, or an email (it hasn't changed). I'll write you back.

It's been a long, weird road since I was last here. Maybe later I'll sit down and write some about that. I don't write as much lately, and that's something I'd like to change. But I just wanted to say hi. It's really good to be here. Look for me, I'll be around.

love,
pete

Not even a little. This is my second day, so far I have had two cigarettes in those two days. Not a perfect record, but still, I think, reasdon enough to be proud of myself. Usually I'll have two cigarettes within an hour and a half of getting out of bed, so two in 36 hours is pretty close to a miracle.

I've got this on-again, off-again headache, I can't seem to eat enough to not be hungry an hour later. I've been monsterously cranky. I couldn't throw a bowling ball straight last night to save my ass. I've gone through a lot of weed, and I'm going to go through a lot more. And to put the poo icing on this shit cake, they were giving away *free cigarettes* at my convienience store yesterday. Yeah, I was a joy to be around, you bet your ass. But I didn't take them, and that's all that matters at the end of the day. It's just one more obstacle to overcome, and every little thing that makes this harder is one more reason for me to stay tough. It's mostly an ego thing, you know. I just can't stand the idea of being subservient to something, and I am a slave to the cigarettes. So paradoxally, every stupid thing like the damn free packs of cigarettes yesterday is a little more motivation for me. If I can refuse free cigarettes, then I can damn well ride this out, I think. I mean, how much worse could it get?

Wish me luck, guys n girlz.

I really am quitting smoking. I have talked too much shit to too many people, I can't back out now. But I am so damn scared. I have been a regular smoker for ten years, since I was fourteen. I don't know how to be a non-smoker, I've never done it before. But like I said, I've talked too much shit to back down, this is going to happen, come hell or fair acres. And I really do want it, really badly. I'm sick of being a slave.

Any pointers? Help gladly accepted and totally appreciated.

-p

I came out to someone on Wednesday night. Yeah, I know, someone's always coming out to someone, right? But this someone happened to be my girlfriend.

Allow me to elaborate. There's this girl from work, who I'll call Kristine, because that's her name. We just started dating about three weeks ago. I am not out at work. Why not? Shit, I don't know. At first, I didn't want to "make waves" or some other stupid, lame-ass excuse, take your pick. I was new to the office, new to the city, and I'll admit it, I just wanted to fit in for once in my life. Just this once, I wanted to see what it felt like to just be one of the guys. In the back of my mind, it was always, "yeah, I know I really should get around to telling some of these people I'm queer, but today's not the day." And so the days just kept slipping by, until I had been here for four months, and now I almost feel like I've boxed myself in by my initial silence, like now if I do say anything, it's bound to be turned into this big fucking deal, because I didn't have the nerve to just say it to begin with.

But anyway, that's not even the point, I'm just rambling. There's a girl, and we're crazy about each other, and we started dating about three weeks ago. Things have progressed to the point where I felt that honesty demanded that I tell her that I'm bisexual, because I'd way rather have that conversation before sex even becomes a possibility than afterward, when I'd look like a lying fuck. So yeah, that was a position I'd never been in before, because before I moved here, I've always been militantly out, so everybody already knew. I was so nervous I thought I was going to piss myself. But the only thing I dreaded more than telling her and it fucking everything up was not telling her and having her find out later and really fucking everything up. And besides, I try not to lie to people that I care about. I just think it's good policy.

She kind of freaked out at first, partly because I was so damn scared that I just kind of dropped it on her with no warning, no lead-in, no nothing. Just "yeah, I'll be at Pride this weekend because oh say hey and by the way, I'm bisexual." Yeah, real smooth, Pete. So she did kind of freeak at first, and jesus was I terrified. I thought for sure I had just blown it all right out of the sky, and I really am just nuts about this girl, and I don't know what I'd do if something like that happened.

But after the initial freak-out, the conversation actually went really well. I kind of regained some control over my mindlessly flapping lips, and did my level best to just start over. I think what really turned it around was when I said "what do you need to know here?" I tried to make it clear that she was totally free to ask me anything, or say anything, or feel anything, and I wasn't going to judge her or think less of her. And she did have some questions, like have I actually had boyfriends (yes), what kind of things have I done (several, but probably not the thing you're thinking of), why did I wait so long to tell her (because I was scared shitless). I made a point of telling her that there aren't any boys on the side (except Adrian, but that's more admiration from afar), there aren't even any girls on the side, and that if I wanted to be with anyone else, I wouldn't be with her in the first place. And at the end of the night, I felt really good about the whole thing. After the initial gut panic, it went really well, I said all the things I felt like I needed to say, I let her say whatever she needed to say, and then we just cuddled on the couch and listened to the radio, just like any other night. And it's not even an issue now, we're already past it.

I wanted to put this out there, not as a "hooray for Pete" thing, but because I can't possibly be the only one who has to face this kind of issue. I'm not telling anyone else who to come out to, or when, or where. But you can do it, and it'll probably go better than you think. And no matter what happens, I promise you, the truth really will set you free. Luck and love.

-pete

My best friend from college got married on Saturday. And so the Prairie Mafia, or we who remain, donned our best suits and mounted up once more to watch the walk, get beligerently drunk, and bid farewell to the first of the old guard to fall, and through him, perhaps also farewell to an era of our lives. If I cried maybe just a little bit, well, whose fucking business is it, anyway?

We love you, Nikolas, and we would never have let her take you from us if we didn't love her too. You'll do all right.

Then there were four.

"I have some time left before Allah takes me, and I have to fill that time. And I have my pride, depite all. And people are watching me, of course. I was a prominent man, and people enjoyed watching my fall, of course they did, and they watch still! So what kind of story am I going to give them next? Because that's what we are to other people, boy, we are their gossip. That's all civilization is, a giant mill grinding out gossip. And so I could be the story of the man who rode high and fell hard, and had his spirit broken and crawled off into a hole like a dog, to die as soon as he could manage it. Or I could be the story of the man who rode high, fell hard, and got up defiant, and walked away in a new direction. Someone who never looked back, someone who never gave the mob any satisfaction. And that's the story I'm going to make them all eat. They can fuck themselves if they want any other kind of a story out of me."

--Kim Stanley Robinson, The Years of Rice and Salt

Watching the full moon through the branches of the birch tree
As I have watched so many full moons through so many birch trees
through so many years

But never before this one, and never again

Loose bark rattles in the breeze
like a baseball card in a bicycle spoke

And for a moment, it's Cannabis Hill
Pine Hall
Albion Center
War Beach

For a moment I see twenty, and behind it seventeen
Getting smaller in the rear view mirror

When the way comes to an end, then change. Having changed, you pass through. I Ching, Hexagram 41
--
Note: first draft, critique and comments greatly appreciated

on the corner of University and Albert
waiting for my transfer, I had an encounter
he was homeless
he was drunk
he wanted to hug me, and bum a cigarette
I let him do these things
because that's the kind of person I am
he staggered off, and I gave it no more thought
the way you do at 5:30 leaving the office
when you've already had quite enough and just want to put your feet up and order Chinese
a moment later, I saw him again
in a bouncer's headlock, outside a certain tavern which I frequent occasionally
curses were exchanged, but no real harm was done
he got off the sidewalk, grabbed his can of malt liquor from the bus shelter
said "fuck it" and went his way

this moment comes back to me, in the evening
and I wonder at how few choices, how few moments
make up the difference between his life and mine

with hot sauce. And I daresay it was fucking awesome.

I really really don't want to go to work. But I was a dumbass, see, and didn't request today off until last Tuesday. By which time two thirds of the company had already requested Friday off, so, needless to say, I got laughed at. Whatever, I really do need the money, I guess. And it'll be a slacker day anyway, and everyone will be bringing great leftovers to share (I'm bringing lefse...mmm...) So I really can't complain. I get to sit on my ass and read a book and eat leftovers, which is what I'd be doing at home, except I'm getting paid for it. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. Accentuate the positive.

That's it, gotta go. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. Maybe I'll write some more at work. I'll probably have time.

-pete

...and the Red Sox won the World Series last night. Of course, that, by definition, means that the world is going to end today, so I strongly suggest that you all go out and do whatever it is that you've always said you're going to do before you die.

Well praise the Goddess and pass me a beer, that prick bastard is back, and high-speed, no less! Didja miss me?