A bad day in a bad week each year.

What follows is for me, a thing I need to say somewhere, an annual cathartis that's become a form of ritual for me

I love you. I know I always will.  I know we both did many good and painful things to each other. I wish I could erase you from my life. 

That's not a thing I say lightly.  I fundamentally believe you are all the good and part parts of you story.  You can't undo one without the other.

But I would have never known you if I could.  Even knowing how unrecognisably different a person  that would make me.

The friends I wouldn't know, jobs and homes I wouldn't know.  How much less capable I'd think myself. I realise what I'd lose.

You entered my life for 3 months last year somehow and I destroyed friendships, I damaged others, I lost any chance I had with either of the guys I had something going with at the time.  The small bit of my psyche I'd started to rebuild in the time since I barely kept together.  Even now the cracks are still there, threatening to split any second.

I know you're bad for me. I know you destroy everything around you.  You found ways to strike at me even after we broke up, from miles away.  I also know know I've learnt to project many of my own demons onto you to keep myself alive. I hate everything about you, and yet.  I don't, and can't, fall out of love with people.  My brain doesn't work like that.  Once you get in, you're there, till the last star goes out.  I love you and would do whatever you asked, if you simply asked.  I hate myself for that.

I miss many other boys right now.  I make many mistakes and hurt many of those around me this time of year it seems.  But I hate remembering that we fell in love this time each year

One day, I might be lucky enough to be half the man I wanted to be for you, because that man was wanted to do incredible things in the world, believed that he could, and was willing to at least try, even of it might mean failing, or getting hurt.

The man I was when we first met could not even have dreamed of those things.

And it's a far cry from the man you ended up making me today.

As we kiss hard on the lips and swear this year will be better then the last...

Christmas is like being drunk because you have urges to text people you probably shouldn't in the spirit of goodwill and tidings of the season and all that.

No. 1 on the list that I definitely should NOT under any circumstances text is my ex, because he's still an asshole, and still doesn't even realise he's an asshole.  If he ever comes to the realisation he's the one that fucked up his life I might reconsider, but even then, his re-crashing through my life back in August didn't exactly end well for either me or him so I think my head has finally just learnt whatever happened, he's now an insanely toxic person.

No 2. #bermudaboy.   Who was an asshole, but an asshole that realised he made a mistake and made a pretty genuine apology and continues to reach out.  But that doesn't erase the hurt or the future doubt, plus he's still in Bermuda and until that changes there's not much that can happen there aside from just both hurting oursleves by wanting people we can't have.

No. 3: #travelguy and this is one I really SHOULD text because there was fun stuff happening with him and then I kinda dropped off the face of the earth for him when ex-recrash happened (see 1 above) and I'd should, and would really like to, try and apologise for doing that to him, especially as he was going through some rough shit at the time.  But I should text him later, when it won't just get lost in the Christmas deluge.

No 4: #boy1 who I wanna text, but that's just cause I want an excuse to flirt, and I'm sort of struggling to find ways to do that with him easily cause we don't really hang out.  A long game I still have every intention of playing, but I don't think this is the right move.  New Year's probably is.

No 5: my best friend from primary school, mostly as a last ditch effort.  He's dropped off everyone who knew him's radar and I haven't heard from him except seeing the occasional fb post of his in years.  Which sucks.  And yes dropping off the face of the earth is a frustratingly recurring problem with my friends which when you have anxiety and abandomnent issues from a personality disorder causes ALL SORTS of problems, but I never really give up on people, no matter how much I probably should at times (see, again, 1, above)


But Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, whatever it might be to the rest of you.

At least I said it finally

I don't quite have the confidence to send this direct, but I need an outlet and I mean it.  So if you see it somehow, that's okay.


I'm aware it's 4am, I'm aware I'm drunk, but hell it's giving me the confidence to do this.   It's a shame I didn't get to see you at Lauren's wedding, it would have been nice to clear things between us somewhat; I always maintain the worst we could do is beat the hell out of each other and no one would be shocked at that.  I'm glad you saw FDC in New York, he appreciated it.  I hope Johnny is okay and I wish the best for you.  I may miss you, and love you, and hate you, but I still wish the best this twisted life will grant you.

Clear as day

My mental health has deteriorated massively again over the past few months.

I'm doing a good job of hiding it in many ways, but I'm acutely conscious that without warning, one day, one of the many fragile glass baubles in my life is going to hit the ground and shatter explosively and disastrously.

My emotions and moods go through 50 different changes a day, and yet there's an undercurrent of white hot hatred sitting through it all in my head the whole time, even when I laugh and smile, it's at the world not with it.

The borderline personality disorder is running rampant these days. The constant sense, or fear of abandonment rife in my thoughts, my social circles closed down to pretty much 3 people that I feel I constantly have to tease contact out of.  It's probably nothing like that at all, but I see it in everything.

And then of course there's the constant paranoia, combined with my own hyper analysis; the curse of too routinely having your worst suspicions proved right in the past to be able to ever convince yourself your doubt is misplaced.  Trust is something that's usually too wounded in my now to be of any good use to convincing myself my head is crazy.

Work isn't helping to be sure.  The last 6 weeks have been pretty god awful in a variety of ways.   Worse yet is the constant stream of commentary from just about every person in my life telling me I'm being undervalued - frankly, my who knows I'm fucking good at the things I do in life and few people could keep up with me, but having every single person in my life comment over the last few months on what they think I should be doing, funnily enough, makes me feel god awful.

I still lack for purpose or interest in living.  I never had a strong one to start with but I havent ever managed to regain anything concrete the past few years.  And I still lack confidence in my ability to fix that problem after the last time to bother trying to again

It's one of the reasons I've thrown myself so hard into the Lib Dems - it's pretty much the only thing I'm genuinely enjoying recently.  It's a distraction from every other voice in my head and hellish day, keeping me occupied for a bit, even if I have to be somewhat fanatical about the whole thing in order to achieve this.  And I've rarely had my skills and curiosity recognised and encouraged so readily.  But it's ultimately a overcompensation and facade hiding much deeper problems.

I still lack for a purpose or interest in living, years later nothing convinces me to stay except for the utter lack of confidence still in my ability to fix that problem after last time - a fact which no doubt causes comfort to friends, but feeds my own sense of abject failure and hatred at both myself and the world.

I go to work, I pay my bills, I go out, I see friends, I eat food, I plan for the future, I continue to manage all these things when I have no desire to because I have no idea how to fail nor would I ever be allowed to by an array of forces I find hostile and unwanted.

When it crashes down, don't say it was unexpected.  I've seen it coming for miles.

Still wondering...

You're supposed to care. 
About life. 
In some way.
It's supposed to mean something to you.
To live.
You're supposed to keep wanting and trying to do that.

You try to connect with people, and pretend that things have meaning or impact any more than some artificial, ephemeral, momentary set of chemicals firing synapses lighting up neurons and assuring you that yes you do feel and care and for once maybe, or at long last it finally matters in even the most cursory and selfish way.

But it doesn't.
You don't.
Those moments and people go by and they have no more meaning 30 seconds later when out of view than they will in death.

We can all pretend and even get good at it and forget even to ourselves how insipid it is.  Or you can spend your waking and sleeping hours with a million different voices telling you every moment of every day how long ago you stopped caring, when you stopped believing, or trying, or finding a reason to fight and carry on, and now your existence is largely a product of resigned apathy that your lack of motivation has become so ingrained you no longer can bring yourself enough to care to change it in either direction.

You're supposed to care.
But I still can't see why on earth I need to anymore.

Personal Pronouns

Theresa May posts on Facebook and Twitter:
"If I lose just six seats I will lose this election..."

Firstly, note the use of I, not the Conservative Party.
But more importantly, this shows just how ridiculous it is that the Conservatives should be so complacent about this election when their position is in fact so tenuous as to be not just in danger, but eliminated if they lose a mere 6 seats

May is so self-assured of her victory that she is campaigning on a manifesto that even includes restarting the fox hunting debate, taking lunches away from school children, and bringing in flawed voter ID and internet censorship laws.
As one friend pointed out: "if these are their campaign promises, what the hell are they planning to sneak in quietly after the election?!"

6 seats isn't many and some good strong tactical voting could cause May and the Tories to rethink their positions as a result.

If you vote Conservative in this election, you will get May for the long haul.
If you vote Conservative, you will get Hard Brexit with no final say by the public and a very limited say even by our elected representatives.
If you vote Conservative you get someone who prioritises foxhunting over the NHS.
If you vote Conservative you will get an increasingly authoritarian and invasive state, far worse than anything the EU ever regulated.
If you vote Conservative you will have no guarantee that the changes Brexit brings will still leave you with 28 days holiday, the right to paid leave, or to discuss your working hours, or retain your job when you are sick for a long time.
If you vote Conservative, you will get confirm that it's not about the Conservatives, it is about Theresa May, her personal vision of dystopia, and those 6 seats.

For the love of all god(s),

#anyonebutthetories

Skies of darkest blue

A friend posted this today which struck a chord:
https://unguardedweb.wordpress.com/2017/05/12/behind-dark-clouds-and-silver-linings/

I'm doing better than him.  Mentally at least.  But I have a whole host of problems, physical and mental, and every day I run up against blocks that remind me I'm forced to adapt, and in many cases, limit, my life.

There's the daily pills that keep my immune system from collapsing.
There's being audibly wheezing from he stairs to my friend's place after going up and down them twice whilst helping them move out.
There's the constant question in the back of my head, that maybe I have to accept that a mid level 9-5 office job is the best that's sustainable for me mentally, despite how that infurirates me in its own ways.
There's the days when I sit for 2 hours at a train station because I'm in so much pain I can't move to get home and I just have to wait it out
There's learning, long ago, how to get through 2 or 3 days at a time on no sleep, because it happens so regularly I couldn't classify it as sick time and keep a job.

He's right - you just accept it.  You have to.  You occasionally wonder at all the things you could do if you didn't constantly adjust your life just so you can get through your days without breaking down in some way.  But that doesn't stop it from being the case.

I tweet about my cramps
But I sit there, for 2 hours, in the cold and the wet.
Until I can move again.

Storms approaching

This rambles a bit, I couldn't quite find the words I wanted, or the order I wanted, and I certainly haven't edited it, but here goes


"It'll be war"
I said, following the Brexit result.  A bit doom and gloom perhaps, but like so many I saw in the result the affirmation of the downhill slide I'd been witnessing, and trying desperately to push to the back of my mind for a while.

Increasing radicalisation.  Increasing partisanship.  An increasing 'us or them' mentality.  It was all someone's fault.  The immigrants usually.  From across the world there were 'immigrants' (we called them 'refugees' once upon a time) fleeing warzones and persecution and bringing their foreign problems with them.

The other day Comey was fired.  Let's be clear, Comey was an asshole; at best he was manipulated, and at worse he intentionally revealed spurious and questionable information about an ongoing investigation for political benefit.  But his firing doesn't sit right in a lot of ways.  The most thought provoking comment I saw on the subject was the following:
"First they came for the Attorney General, but I did not speak out; then they came for the Director of the FBI...."
It's a theme that gets replayed over and over at the moment by those attempting to counter the us verses them approach of today's politics.  At what point will we stop being us, and one by one, become them, to find as in Niemoller's poem, there is no one left to speak up for us(i.e. them)?

Today I read this:
RUSSIA ENDS INVESTIGATION INTO ANTI-GAY ABUSE IN CHECHNYA CLAIMING THERE ARE ‘NO VICTIMS’
I'm biased of course, but the phrasing jumps out at me.  It's not "we found no signs of abuse", or "we found no evidence of activity at these locations."  It's "there are no victims."  Which sounds ominously like Kadryov's gay people "do not exist" in Chechnya.
Maybe they did, until very recently.  Maybe no longer.



The absolute fear that society is sliding into some nazi-esque style oppression and purge is especially strong amongst young intellectual liberals.  We were raised in safety. the advent children of Europe.  There were singular terror events of horrific nature, but there was no extended at-home conflict.  We were far from war, far from the descending conditions and conflicts that lead to violent outbreaks .
My mother was raised in the post-war society.  She played in bombed out shells of buildings as a child.  Rations were still in effect.  Maybe her experience grants her the perspective to see a difference I can't.
But when I was 11, and first thought I might be gay, the age of consent was still different; you couldn't marry a same sex partner, civil partnerships didn't exist and were barely even a topic of discussion.  Matthew Shephard was killed that year.  It was a defining moment of me approaching my sexuality as I realised there were many many Matthew Shephard's that didn't get a newspaper article about them.  A family and children was out of the question.  Being gay, or bi or whatever, meant an isolated life, or one of secrecy or both.
When I was 21, the age of consent was equal, civil partnerships were well established, there were murmrings of what would become the marriage equality battle, celebrities were gay and on tv and when they left the public eye it was to look after their adopted children.

The world around me had changed in a profound and incredible way.  In such a short space of time.  The growing possibilities were endless.
And now?  Now almost another 10 years later, the world has shrunk very small indeed.  From a growing discussion on how Trans and more being sidelined and ignored in the LGBT+ acronym, we are now back to deciding where it is okay for people to use a toilet cubicle or not.  A gay couple went to a pub local to me and one was glassed in the face for holding hands.  There is a growing body of evidence that suggest that gay men in Cechyna are being persecuted, and more worryingly the goverment response is to say 'those people dont exist'.  There is a video going around of an MEP who said openly, in European Parliament, that "women must earn less than men because they are smaller, weaker, and less intelligent."  He was suspended for a mere 10 days.  A punishment he has previously faced several times, on one occassion for giving a nazi salute in Parliament.  This man was voted in and hasn't been forcibly evicted by a group of pitchfork bearing women and men who find his viewpoints unconscionable.  House Republicans in the US recently passed a bill that would amongst other dire classifications, once again, make rape a pre-existing condition, allowing you to make someone's healthcare insurance premium more expensive..  The fact forced sex against your will and consent was ever considered a pre-existing condition is somehow already acceptable.  The West is celebrating that only 1/3 of people in France voted for an extreme right wing candidate.  As recently as 2 weeks ago a Tory MP told a group of A-level students that being gay is wrong.

My mother wonders why I am worried.
Because no amount of being white and male will make up for the fact I have sex with men.  Because just as quickly as society expanded and changed, I've seen it close up on itself and people-at-large do nothing about it except the occasional tut.  Because the people telling me to calm down are ones who will probably be up against the wall much later that I will be.  Because when I first wondered about my sexuality and how my life might be, this was the kind of thing to be scared of if people found out.

I am scared because given the dramatic changes forward and back in 20 years, it's only a small step for someone to decide I am one of 'them'.  That I am the problem.  That those kind of problems don't exist in this country.  And my country, Europe, the US, will do nothing except maybe hand out a 10 day suspension.

It finally happened.

It comes as a surprise to none of you, I know that.  It's long overdue as far as you're all concerned.

But to me, it was a big and oddly-troubling decision.


I've never liked UK politics.  I've routinely hated UK politics.  I gain some inexplicable fascination and amusement out of US politics even as a globalised world means its own actions no longer are isolated from my life; but I continue to consider this fascination a distinct and singular aberration.  I detest politics, in so many ways.  It is broken, in ways that for all our supposed intellectualism we are unable to solve or even simply alleviate in any way thus far.  I acutely despise a world that makes politics the demesne of the financially independent, or obnoxiously vocative.  That necessitates tactical voting.  Where associations collaborate to decide explicit rules purely for the purpose of intentionally bending them in every way possible.  Politics is a universal and unrestrained disaster.  And we deserve every grievance we get for it.

It's a decision I've been debating internally for a substantial amount of time.  Both that, and the fact I was even considering it in the first place both struck me.  I have generally voted Lib Dem, Green or Independent all my life, that 's no shock,  But to actively align, to declare myself; to involve myself; that was always unconscionable to me.

Credit must of course go, to 2 friends in particular, who have in large part, convinced me of the merits, not of politics, not of parties, but specifically of the Liberal Democrats.  They made no grand appeals to my sense of fairness, no late night debates over the social mores of our time, they in fact, said nearly nothing.
They acted.  They continued on with their lives as they always had.  And their passion and commitment, both unique yet clear and undeniable, was disarming.  I have met few people so openly, unapologetically, and plainly open about their beliefs on the world.  My ignorance was never made to feel awkward, nor did it result in avoiding discussing things around me.  Sometimes, they were irritatingly quiet when I wished they would say more, or explain more, to help my own understanding of my shifting views.   But they let me come to my own views in my own time.
I went to Sleaford and ended up delivering leaflets.  That's simple I guess.  But I went to Sleaford to see a friend, to spend time with a friend, not to help in a campaign.  He never asked me to either.  But I chose to.  Because walking up every driveway in an housing estate or quietly addressing envelopes at a dining room table was about spending time with a friend, and seeing passion shine forth from him pure as you could ask for in the world.


I cannot, and will not sit by and do nothing.
I wholeheartedly, completely, rabidly believe in the right to vote.  I struggle to understand the right not to vote.
I disagree with Brexit, and even though I can understand the viewpoints now better than I chose to at the time of the referendum (credit for that goes to another acquaintance of rare and special mention; one who I admire for being more intelligent than me), I still fundamentally disagree with them.
I was born in the era of globalisation.  I was born in the era of the EU.  I was born a citizen of the EU.   Even after Brexit, I will, in my heart and mind, if no longer on paper, continue to be a citizen of the EU.
There are people who will fight for that.  There are people who will stand up and be counted for that when the need arrives.  There are people who believe in a more global world.  There are people who believe in paying higher taxes to help society.  There are people who desire a more federalised Europe.   There are people who think the status quo is something to be suspicious of.  Not all of these people are Lib Dems; not all Lib Dems are these people.  But I choose now to align myself with people who display more passion for their beliefs than I ever expected to find outside of religion.

I do not expect the Lib Dems, or Labour for that matter to win this election.  I expect Brexit to still happen.  But I wish to be counted.  I am ready to be counted.  I haven't entirely worked out what that means past this, but after today, now was the time to choose.




This isn't doing much, at all, really, in the grand scheme of things, or even in smaller, less-conspiratorial schemes perhaps.  But for me, this is a bigger moment than it first appears.

We, The Unwilling, Led by The Unqualified...

For those of you who haven't been following the USA Hockey/USWNT dispute, what's particularly despicable about this whole affair, is that rather than admit the failing, rather than pay for USWNT's equipment, or their disability insurance during the Olympics, rather than find equal sponsorship, or pay their athletes more, or hell, just on a yearly basis, USA Hockey have decided not to do any of this.

First when USWNT refused to play to secure equal rights as athletes, USA Hockey started asking all the women's hockey players in the NWHL. They refused.
Then, they started asking NCAA (Collegiate level) women's hockey players to go to the Winter Olympics, instead of the elite team that has been training constantly for the past 4 years. They refused.
Now USA Hockey are asking women's athletes from nonprofessional leagues including high schoolers to pit themselves against professional grade athletes from other countries, but they still wouldn't get disability insurance, and would still have to pay for their own kit.

The US Women's Hockey team is ABSOLUTELY SUPERB. They have medalled in EVERY SINGLE Winter Olympics since women's hockey was introduced as a sport and have won the World Championship SEVEN times since 2000.
They are paid $1000 a month for 6 months, every 4 years, during the Olympic season only. For this they are expected to train year-round, every year. When they travel to play, they are booked coach and have to share a room with a teammate. If they're lucky enough to have one of the very few NWHL spots available, salaries range between $10000-26000 a year, and these salaries were slashed to a 'we'll pay what we can' basis earlier this year due to league financial problems.

The men's team? Their initial pay from US Hockey is no higher, but they universally are pulled from the NHL,wherer MINIMUM salaries are $650k per year. They fly business class, get a room to themselves, and can take a guest, who also flies business. Their equipment is paid for at very top grade of what's available. The receive extensive and thorough insurances.
USA Hockey, which has a mandate to grow the game, spends $3.5million on male outreach and youth projects per year. There is NO comparable women's outreach effort.
The performance of the men's hockey team?
They've got Olympic silver twice and world championships silver twice too since 2000. The rest of the time they failed to medal at all.

This is so far beyond any discussion of 'unfair glass ceilings'. This is pure discrimination. US hockey refuses not only to provide the women's team with the same level of benefits and supports as the inferior men's team, but when challenged about it, have elected to try and REPLACE the women's team, even going far as to trying to recruit high school seniors in place of top level professional athletes. And it will continue to not offer any of those high school seniors the same benefits and support as the men's team.

Make no mistake, the women's team CONSTANTLY performs BETTER and achieves MORE, IN SPITE of not having anywhere the same advantages of a bunch of rich white men. The organisation that is supposed to help them have said its 'too expensive' to give those things to the team that is of a consistently higher, but ultimately female, standard.



As an addendum, US Hockey appears in somewhat of a panic today, as largely all professional sporting leagues in the US have come out against their position.

Worse will for US Hockey, they NHL Players Association has voiced its support of NHL players threatening to boycott the upcoming World Championships in solidarity with USWNT.

Sometimes the work isn't a cold dark place....


 However as a counterpoint to the above comment, A LOT of the comments I have seen re: the female athlete's position is: 'they should stop whining and do what theyre paid to do.'

Sometimes the world needs firebombing till humanity is wiped from the face of it.

Layers within layers within layers

Paranoia.

It's a bitch.

In some ways, its amazing - the layers of impossible completely unrelated phenomena together with totally implausible but just real enough to be viable connections even the world's best mad scientists couldn't dream up in a hundred years - if you could bottle it you'd put quantum supercomputers to shame.

But its horrific.  It takes everything you know and experience and twists it in the most specific worst way possible to harm you and sow strife and doubt about what you know and what you've perceived and experienced. In ways and extents you never thought possible.

The slightest vague thought, slightly not heard utterance, even positive ones, leave wild open parks for paranoia to play in.  Each opening spawns hundreds of new possibilities and open points to connect. 

New information, about something completely different, even years later is then collated, and run against every single possible scenario your paranoia has ever come across, wondering not only does it confirm or deny that particular possibility at every event along the chain, but also, what new possibilities does it spawn off each and every data point that you hadnt previously considered.  And then rerun with your data and recalculate new possibilities again.  And then rerun and repeat again.  And again.

You can even have voices in your head saying you things that you WISH were true, but know they're not, but the just possible enough viability of all the other bad things means you suffer the foolish hope that this outside impossibility might be stand even a small glimmer of hope.

Or two things that are mutually exclusive, such as times and places that are mutually exclusive that you still completely believe both situations happened and contribute to the same narrative.

You believe that things started with the best of intentions went wrong along the line and fit into a crippling warped narrative that leaves you questioning your reality

When you try to determine reality your paranoia again attacks that process - is the subject upset because you think that lowly or them, because of the emotional nature of the discussion, or because that's the reality they won't admit to, or because of a multiple layer bluff of these?  So you model all four scenarios into your paranoid narrative and create 4 new possible timelines, that you then need to populate with paranoia-attached inference permutations of all the actual factual data points they subject provided.

The only way to combat paranoia is asking for objective factual observations of others involved.  This is quite hard for others let alone to then piece together yourself.  It so restrained.
Persons x and y were here.
They had phones out and on and I did/didn't see x on the screen.
It happened at y time.
I was with x and then said y (cross-reference with y's own statement)

Apply every single possible bias possibility from every known source, internal and external, and know context of persons/place/time/including theirs, your own, other people's and the difference in perspective.

Redraw narrative.  Reapply entire process to apply new and missed possibilities and connections. 

Hellenica Day 3

My third full day - tomorrow I leave, but not till late, and tomorrow my friend finally has a day off work to spend together.

We drive 75km there and back to drop my friend at work - a necessity so he can work at one of the more lucrative tourist spots whilst affording a house.

I'm shown the port of Piraeus and the coast road in the light - it was dark walking it last night, only the huge ferries were obvious.  4000 people a day to Crete.  The only other feature I previously was introduced to, also at night, was the cruising spot in the ferry park at 2am - Turkish truck drivers stay on one side, Greek ones on the other.   Alas it was dead - no fish market on Saturday night means no trade to drive the 'trade'

We take the long coast road to Glyfada, passing endless tourist restaurants opposite multiple harbours of sailboats and yachts.  Nothing too huge; nothing too outlandish, that remains firmly the demesne of the ferry and container ports, at least while there's no big cruise ship in town - its nearly the end of the season here.

I'm dropped at the Flea Market and pointed towards Constitution Square.  Never ending 'unique' craft outlets and tourist tat that would no doubt have my aunts haggling like the seasoned pros their heritage entitles them to.  I take in the National Park and actually go into the Zappeion this time - a Russian cultural programme is being held - a photo exhibit and later a series of music performances which I return for.  I'm much more a fan of the Russian music tradition than Greek and the weather and setting of the Zappeion lend themselves well to outdoor performances with a wandering audience.

A circuitous route down to the Metro station adds to the km walked again today - my shoes become marked even whiter from my travels.   Back at Piraeus I manage to navigate enough Grenglish to order myself some souvlaki for another late lunch/dinner before starting the 5km uphill walk to my friend's house - no one parks with their wheels towards the curb; this seems almost sacreligious.  As I pass the Greek Orthodox churches (increasing in density as I travel away from the tourist port area) they are calling people to Sunday evening prayers - 1900, a little later than the British tradition, but not perhaps surprisingly given the warmer climate and longer sunlight hours.  Flashes of gold glitter at me from inside the churches and the spiritual side of me wishes to go in, observe, and join the service - to experience and feed on the spirituality of others which thereby renews my own.  But I've not had a confident day; I realise I know nothing of the Greek Orthodox tradition; I'm in an almost exclusively local area by now; and I'm wearing my bleachers which are hardly appropriate; I do not wish to offend or intrude upon the importance of the ritual of attendance and service for those who's place this is, so I move on.  I'll obtain my spiritual fulfillment another day.

Exhausted at home, I sleep for 2h before needing to go pick up my friend from work.  I drag myself up and get changed again before heading out - the 30km over the last 48h is making itself known.  As are insect bites from a rest in the National Park earlier.  A memory surfaces.  Exhausted whilst on holiday and yet going out - both me and my ex always tired from our various trials each day - both always forcing a way to drag ourselves up and out.  To see each other in the brief time we had, to see others when we had the rare chances, to rescue those who always seem to need it from boys barely holding on themselves.

I think I'll lie in tomorrow.

What a game!

***Publication of this post was intentionally delayed significantly from time of writing as it brought several unseen advantages; if you don't know, you won't be told why, but the points still stand fairly even without full context***


I've taken a much more considerable and closer interest in the Rio 2016 Olympics than I did in the London 2012 ones - I pointedly and almost completely ignored the 2012 ones with a few minor exceptions.

I was, controversially, against London hosting the 2012 Olympics from the start - I remember specifically refusing to sign several petitions etc in the street when the country was trying to bid for it and demonstrate interest.  I didn't think it was a good use of money, I didn't think it would do the things it said it would, I thought it would run over budget and cause massive disruption.  Some friends I knew at the time who were involved in sports the UK considered minor at the time but were Olympic events did point out it would bring increased investment to their interests, and that was a very fair point that gave me pause.  It did.  Not as much as promised, or hoped for, and the interest has more often than not waned in the time since Summer 2012, but it was something.  It also did force through many public works projects that were sorely needed, and would never have been progressed had it not been for the Olympic shadow driving them forward.  Many friends have memories of the London 2012 Olympics that I do not and a small part of me regrets that I don't have those.  I still, overall however, consider it a vast waste of money for the country.  Participation in the Olympics is great; hosting it is generally folly in my completely-not-expert opinion.  (See also here for a good primer on some of the many reasons I think the Olympics, and the IOC, are generally bad news for the hosts)

This year, several people I know were involved in Rio 2016 at various levels.  Almost all of these are people I did not know 4 years ago.  Some of them I have an especially huge amount of respect and admiration for - indeed we often disagree on many things but I have never had a conversation with them where I have not been overwhelmed by their compassion, intelligence, and perception.  As a result, I have found myself watching these Olympics much more, across several events, and taking a keen and personal interest in the outcomes.  And I've found myself enjoying them immensely.

I regularly identify as a gay sports fan.  I shouldn't really - it somewhat self-promotes bi-erasure against myself, but no-one would care about the straight cis white male side of me that enjoys sports, that yells at the TV, that applauds and cheers good performance by athletes, that armchair coaches and curses judges and referees for calls I disagree with.
No, the bit that makes me 'weird', or notable, as a sports fan is the side of me that likes sex with boys, and so in terms of promoting visibility of interest, it is the gay sports fan side that is important to make known.

I've watched many many more events than I did for London across a broad spectrum; some where my interest was personal, some where it just happened to be what was on and entertaining that day.  And I've loved it.  And it further drives my consideration that whilst yes, at school I hated sports, I was ill in many ways, I had life-threatening asthma difficulties on a regular basis, I was short and small and bullied which does not make for a great team-sports player, it's more to do with the fact that I never got exposed to the right kind of sports at school, and this has a huge impact on how as a child you perceive sports.
I concede, it wouldn't have exactly been easy to get me exposure to the kind of sports I would have enjoyed - ice hockey, skiing, shooting, archery, mountain hiking, air-racing.  These all require extensive, even prohibitive resources and are largely the luck of location making them available. There's also the difficulty of being able to take things at your own pace - partly something you only learn over time as you grow, but fundamentally something that doesn't lend itself to teaching a class of 30+ kids.
But as I've got older I've learnt that actually, I'm a MASSIVE sports fan.  Not in football or rugby or tennis or anything traditional (certainly in the UK), but when I get into a sport it shines through in an utterly unmistakable way.

Part of this is understanding of the technical parts of the sport - its farrrrrr easier to maintain even a passing following of a sport you're not that interested in if you understand how the sport works, what is easy, what is difficult, what warrants and deserves applause against other things, and sports commentary is very complex, usually referencing a hundred different names of past participants, recent and near-ancient history of teams, performance, events etc.  To an outsider its boring and impenetrable.  And there is, unfortunately, pretty much no way to teach this barring sheer exposure.  The speed and aggression of ice hockey was what caught my interest when I was a child, but it is 20 years of following it, supporting a team, reading game recap!s and scouting reports, watching plays and listening to the radio and having to imagine the action off the basis of it, that means I love ice-hockey, because I understand it.  I like skiing because I can do it myself and I know what it demands of the body and mind; I admire the technical skill and physics at play in archery and so on.

Throughout these games I've been motivated to find out about the sports I've been watching, to learn how the sports work, and as a result, I've thoroughly enjoyed them.  I now have even more sports to follow and keen a close eye on and that's GREAT.  But I will never stop being slightly bewildered at how much I hated sports as a child, and how much that was a great shame, because the passion that comes with following sports is something that's quite unique, and not quite replicated by anything else.

Luckily, hockey season starts in a few weeks...



(There was of course, the abhorrent Nico Hines story of a straight man hunting down athletes on a gay sex app and then posting the sordid details of it as an 'article' online.  I have skipped over this as, although from a gay sports perspective its the obvious major thing that occurred in Rio, it has been covered plenty enough by the internet, and I have no wish to drag it all back up again here; it's not relevant to the points I was making.)

Hellenic Observations Day 2

A random collection of observations from day 2.

My shoes are covered in dust - dry sandy soils mean it can't be helped.  Walking over monuments and ancient fields makes it even worse.  My shoes become stained a dry white from walking.  I like walking on holidays.  I like hiking in the heat.  15-20km throughout the day as I encircle and recross the entire Acropolis hill 4 times over.  It's a good hike, something I don't get in the UK - the weather isn't good and I'm allergic to half the countryside there and just not enthused by the remainder.  The last time I hiked this well it was Labor Day and I walked 20 miles through the Marin County headlands north of the Golden Gate and back down through the Presidio along the cliff line.  I miss such days.

Coffee is popular here.  Good coffee.  I saw but a single Starbucks in 15 miles of walking (also meaning the availability of free power to scam is limited).  Coffee is cheap (1€) and available 24h everywhere whether in the centre or suburbs - is the 24h culture a product of the warmer climate, or is London just truly very very shit at 24h amenities? (An ever constant gripe of mine).  (As a side note, coffee is also awkwardly political, as its basically Turkish style coffee, but that's a dirty word, so here you have to say Greek coffee.  Because politics)

No McDonalds either.  A lot of fast food pita places though.  Not complaining.  Souvlaki has been my staple every meal except one.

The state of the economy is obvious.  Everyone talks about it to an effectively rich tourist like me.  Every street has multiple abandoned storefronts and homes.  Huge industrial complexes lie mothballed, the cost of recovering the equipment proving even too exorbitant.  Everyone here smokes - what is it about the seeming connotation between smoking (or drugs in general, be they socially acceptable or not) and low quality of life, despite the necessity for regular excess expenditure it creates?  There is graffiti everywhere.  I mean even on the abandoned shops next to the state palace (now parliament building) and on the fountain in front of the Zappeion.  There is no money to pay to employ people to clean it up.  Most of the shops I wander through outside of the tourist areas are run down light industrial and commercial - a fruit warehouse, car mechanics, spare parts for boiler repairs, phone and tech pawn shops.  I don't have a comparative point of reference, this is my first visit.  The middle class complains most to me - money they have but can't access, frustrated at having seen their quality of living drop so suddenly and dramatically despite their relative wealth.  But its a Saturday night, the streets are packed in my tourist free suburb of Keratsini, the youth of Athens and Piraeus out on the streets in their little groups and those around my age and older filling out every table in every restaurant.  If there's a shortage of money and rife unemployment you couldn't see it in the nightlife.  It's the harsh light of day that shows the stark reality of how many restaurants are surrounded by failed, vandalized once+competitors.

When not in Rome

Since I know this will be popular with certain friends (and to be fair I usually post such things)

First impressions of Greece as follows:
- Police here are hot
- Friend immediately took me to get food without asking.  This is a common feature of friends when they pick me up.  This is why we're friends ^.^
- Next highlights on his tour were the American Cemetery, Amusement Park, Jail, Cruising Ground, and Beach.  The guy knows me, clearly.
- The friend of his I'm hanging out with is apparently likely to also point out to me various cruising spots and other items of cultural interest
- This is my first time in Greece, so as someone who studied classics, I'm obliged to do the tourist thing at some point.
- As a linguist, I'm fairly ashamed I don't know any Greek at all
- It's also my first proper experience outside of academia of being confronted with, and trying to understand, non-Roman script on a daily basis, further complicating matters.  The emphasis of little prepared I am for this trip, linguistically speaking, is immediate.
- I suspect I may come away not having my bearings much or a good sense of how to navigate the city - my friend has a car and is transporting me around mostly.

The Apostate

Just fuck it right enough, that's it
You'll still go on, well, for a bit
Another day of utter shit

And then there were none
And then there were none
And then there were none
And then there were none

A lot of love to give

I've had my eye on a few boys for a while now.  Not sure if I want to date them or not.  I don't really know them - we've only met each other a handful of times.  Friends of friends.

Which in its own way makes it quite difficult to see them - they're not really someone I met and started an interaction with that's just fallen to the side - our connection is in reference to another; calling them up and chancing it would be so overtly out of the blue it risks putting people off, but that equally just furthers the problem that I don't know them well enough to work out if I want to or to wager whether I think they'd even be vaguely interested or not - it might all just be I met them and think they're nicer than most.

Work doesn't help of course, trying to find free time is a nightmare and the bit of it I do get is either spent tending to my extremely fragile mental health state at current (another major selling point when asking someone out, obviously) or with those I get most value out of the shortest time.  And I'm very conscious I'm about to start ramping up towards busy season at work, which makes asking anyone out rather pointless - I'd see them one, maybe twice and then come across as uninterested as I disappear for the better part of 2.5 months

I'd like to see more of these boys, to work out what's there even if its nothing.  But we don't see each other much at all and even when we do I'm not really good at making conversation with people, especially people I don't know well.

More than that though, I'd just like someone again.  Not anyone.  I'm not that stupid.  But it's been long enough and I really miss having someone.

Dreams

I had a dream last night, we [nicked a car, and] drove out to see Las Vegas.

We lost our [cells] in the [those] bright lights. [LT,] you should have seen us!

[we came to, Scamming] for change [as if] to get home, [just outside] San Francisco.

[You topped off the Gas Card, and said: "let's spend a summer on the West Coast!"]

All I asked, all I asked was: "Please don't tell me that [you're teasing,] I'll  take this #CaliSunrise with me, and wake up with the fondest memories."

[We got lost on the coast road, till we reached San Diego. You tried to tell me the plus sides, I found it hard to believe you.]

We [shared our love of the] ocean while [cruising near high altitude], sunsets never were so BRIGHT, and [you banked quick to show me] the sky's never [more] blue.

You opened up [our dark minds, and shared all to. Singing that song: '#DarkBlue'...

[When I woke that morning, my mind tried to find you, I could still feel the sunshine, and the waves we swam through]...

I whispered: "please don't tell me that I'm dreaming...why can't I take that #CaliSunrise with me, and turn these dreams into memories?"

If I [wake, I'll ] roll over. Dreams, #CaliSunsets can't have you. maybe theirs more #CaliSunrise, more unmade memories.

[For now, I'll take this #CaliSunrise, with me, and wake up when these dreams are memories. I'll never abandon my dreams lad]. Not a least till I have to.

If you [try and find me dreaming: I'll be] down, and to the left.

Anniversary

Remember the time my ex-fiance dumped me?
By email.
An email saying he was going to marry someone else instead.
Except then it turned out they'd already eloped and got married 4 months earlier.
On a trip where I was providing emotional support to my ex via instant messages when the logistics of it fucked up, unaware of the actual purpose.
After years of me asking him to elope with me and him always saying that wasn't an option because of family reasons.
Remember that?

There's an annual reminder in my calendar that pops up this weekend.  Its the date of when my ex-fiance asked me to marry him.  I can't quite ever bring myself to delete it.

Which is completely understandable.  But man, was he an asshole.

And in spite of all that, I still want him.

Trying...

Could you let down your hair
Be transparent for awhile, just a little while
To see if you're human after all

Mutual respect; fun; understanding, he says, before walking off offended when I ask to be alone, because his mood swings confuse me and he scares me.

I realise, I'm used to winning, and I can never win with this one.  He's stronger, smarter, quicker, more stubborn.  The only reason I'm here is because I was the one to reach out in the stony silence.  And even now I don't get so much as an "I'll try"; no promises, we both understand that'd be false, but barely any hint at commitment.  And on every level I try to assert myself I'm reminded I won't win and he won't lose.  I can't remember why I started trying again.