Still on the Edge in Sumas

Whoretense here. Well, who else? I just had what could be my last cigarette, but in honesty I doubt it. They have their place; its just that I tend to smoke to many of them. Just now it was two.

So, and more in honesty, it has not been the weekend to die for. Then again it was not my weekend to die. So that is a plus. Another plus is, I've finally got a start on re-dux'ing the van. It so needs it. Another plus is, I got to spend a weekend with Mark, the best boyfriend there ever was. And another plus is, nobody besides Lino has died.

Lino Espinoza died last Easter on purpose, owing in part to the fact that the two of us never managed to get close enough to really know what the other was thinking. I mean, he must've known after all that I was interested but that wasn't enough I guess to decide (for him) to go on living. And then the other truth of that is that even if we did it might've been no influence on him at all. We all make the choices we're going to make, don't we? I guess he figured that sticking around a while longer wasn't going to get him layed so much that all the bullshit would be worth while. I guess he figured that no-one ever, was going to fill the shoes of Bill, his "not insignificant other" (my words) of around 18 years. I guess he decided that impacting ashphalt at around 75mph was somehow easier. Not sure how that speed measures up to reality, but then again not sure it matters. The point being, that lately I've decided I don't have a wardrobe that can pass muster when it comes to funeral attire; what kind of denial is that? Well no, that's probably not the point. Maybe the point is, a lot of people put a whole lotta premium on youth and beauty and getting laid. Maybe the point is that there's a lot of people who never learn to ask for what they need. Or maybe they see it like a whole world of people who wouldn't really care if they lived or died, so why ask? No, I think the point is that all this confusion between acceptance and sex on the one hand, and validation and intimacy on the other, is threatening our very lives as gay men.

Anyhoo--I am ever so sorry to not make it into my usual coffee clatch crew. I mean when I say that they do make my every day better. I am also so sorry that I didn't have time nor weather to paint on my ever changing CyberQueen van of Tomorrow. (The van formerly known as Step van Winkle. Ha.) I am not sorry at all for going back to Boston Bar and helping aforementioned not insignificant other, Mark, out on his never-ending tree hacking project in B.C. His goals are to 1) minimize the shade in our back yard and 2) take away at least some of the wind fall (apples) that the bears up there so do love, and 3) raze every stick of greenery within 40 kilometers. I'm fine with the first two. I guess we succeeded, but in truth I helped him butcher our helpless 40 feet tall apple trees with misgivings. A part of me wants them to remain wild, overgrown, and festooned with bats at night. But no more of that. Or, not as much; I'm sure the bats will visit at sunset as always, provided Mark doesn't decide to prune the trees growing on the slope that drops down to the river.

I guess all told I must say that life continues pretty fine indeed.

You'all are part of it. Cheers.