esrosedotblog

I have actually worn out my gym bag.

It isn't a piece of shit or anything. It is a black canvas thing. The canvas is intact but the pockets are nylon and have given way to the day to day stress of holding my wallet and keys, earplugs and i.d. bracelet.

My Kindle of course. It is smaller than whatever book I used to take but still, it hardly fits in the side pocket. In and out. In and out.

My one liter water bottle. Filled.

There is a lot of stuff in that little bag.

Some fabrics just wear out. Get tired.

I can't believe how long it took me to find something that was OK on Amazon.

Do you have any idea how many gym bags there are for sale in the world? Unbelievable.

It took awhile for me to narrow the field with size. There aren't a lot of bags that are only 12-14 inches long.

I want a small bag because I carry my shit around with me. The phone is in there. The Kindle, I read on the stationary bike. The water bottle. Are you sure you don't want a swig?

So I finally narrowed it down to this one.

Then the color. It used to be that black covered it all. No longer. At first I thought it would be easy to just pick the black but, not so.

Availability of options creates a dissonance. Choice means decision. Decision requires deliberation.

I thought it through. On all days, I have on a white tee, either collared or not, and a pair of nylon shorts. Yes the big baggy ones like everyone else. The only thing one can by at Lands End without it being called a bathing suit. Not the baggy baggy kind. No one in my gym wears that shit.

I have four colors of course. When I find something I like I buy all the colors. Three sets too. I have black (not really a color), navy blue, royal blue and red. Bright red. A narrow white stripe up the sides.

So. Bag color. A lot of colors. No suspense here. You have already seen the picture. I chose yellow.

Why? I don't know. It is not rational. Probably because I don't think that a lot of people carry a yellow (canary) gym bag around with them. Actually not many people carry a bag around with them at all. So if I am in the bare minority why bother about colors. Get something that might elicit comment. "Look at that old queen with the yellow hand bag". Something like that.

I suppose the yellow will not really "go" with the red or royal blue shorts. Certainly OK with the black and navy blue. But what the hell. If I am to be a minority of one. I don't have to traipse over to the fountain where there is barely a trickle of water. I have it right with me. In my "fuckin' canary yellow faggot bag".

Labels: accessories, clothing, gym

I cleaned the fountain this morning. It is not a big job but it always seems that it will be. A lot of jobs are like that. More difficult on the run up than in the execution. I try to remember. The thing is to get it really clean and not take half way measures. Siphon out the water, clean out the mold, dose it some with bleach, be sure to clean out the interior before the water goes back in. Blah blah. Nothing to it.

Today's film was about a trans gender man.. Xavier Dolan's Laurence Anyways (2012). Well, the process he goes through from his first baby steps to full identity. Mostly it is about the main relationships in his life with women. One especially, his lover and friend, who bears much of the burden of the film and story. The guy/gal is Melville Paupoud and the woman Suzanne Clement. They are superb separately and together. His mother, Nathalie Baye, plays a crucial role as a distant presence until it counts. I wanted to see the film because it is written and directed by Dolan who has done so much good work. A gay Quebecois, he is compiling a list of great movies. Super. A 5 out of Netflix5. I will buy it in support of Dolan and I might even watch it a few more times. While it is not at all "gay" as transgender people are not gay (hence the romance between the two principles) they are often lumped in with us in the literature, the news and even the parades. It used to bother me. Now not so much and the film really helped me over some hurdles with my own phobic attitudes. Always something to work on.

I have been buying Threadless T-shirts. T-shirts with ironic or humorous cartoons, sometimes just plain art. I can't stop. But I will have to pretty soon because I only have a limited space. I have been folding them but then I have to put them on a hangar and "mist-press" them before I let them sit overnight. You know. Spritz them, smooth them out, let 'em hang. Today, I put them on hangars. I had to scout out enough. Just enough. Of the wire ones. I do not want any other hangar. No plastic. I found space by passing my corduroy shirts on to someone else, the second hand store. I haven't worn them in a long time and so that is the cue to put them out for a new home. Rescues. Here is the art from one of the t-shirts. The Communist Party.

Labels: clothing, condo, films

CLOTHESTASTROPHE

The main closet pole, the top one, gave way today.

It has been looking weak and wobbly.

So, all our shirts, and some of my long pants, went on the floor.

John snapped into action and with a quick trip to Lowes he found the best brackets to do the job right. (we knew the sellers solution wasn't the best).

So after dinner, John went and put up the brackets and soon the shelf will be done too.

I didn't mention the shelf that was part of the jury rig*.

Me?

I held a board up while it got nailed. I cleaned his shirts off the floor.

I will put my shirts and pants back. He took them to the bed to clear the space.

I do have to say that "he" is using this to get California Closet in for the other closets we have. Not that this collapse has anything to do with those situations but when the subject is hot it is time to strike. It is not quite coercion especially since it works. But it is very close.

Hey. I have held out for two and a half years.

This reminded me of an avalanche I just watched on YouTube.

*Jury rigging refers to makeshift repairs or temporary contrivances, made with only the tools and materials that happen to be on hand. Originally a nautical term, on sailing ships a jury rig is a replacement mast and yards improvised in case of damage or loss of the original mast. Not to be confused with jury tampering.

My Dad used this phrase. One of his favorites. I hate to say this but most of his workshop and home repair stuff was jury rigged. Mostly used or reused wood and metal pieces.

Labels: clothing, condo

JEAN POOL

I have worn shorts almost 365 days a year since we moved here in 1997. I refused to give in to the reality of a desert winter. People noticed. I had a reputation. The eternal tourist.

This year, the cold came early and with it some more age. Or maybe it is that I have lost so much weight that I don't have the insulation that I had before.

Whatever.

I am back to wearing jeans. A big decision.

I put them on today and do not plan to take them off until there is a small sign of spring. Well, unless it gets a bit warmer.

I have to admit there is something else going on.

That is that I am now eligible to return to Levi 501s. 32/30.

Slim, straight leg, the way I used to roll.

They look pretty good.

I also got some Calvin Klein classics for when I want to be a little baggy. I used to wear those too. I was the perfect Calvin Klein ass. Not any more. We would have to go to the 30 inch waist for that and I am not likely to get there.

But it is not all about staying warm during the dry cold desert days. It amounts to a "new look" for me.

My closest friend at the Meeting, Joey, noticed. "You wore jeans!".

Yes.

A few others noticed or finally saw that I am thinner and whether they mean it or not, healthier looking. "Maybe it is the tan". I don't have a tan.

No one has yet asked me, this time, whether I am OK. Have I lost weight voluntarily. This is a good thing. It shows us that time has past. We are far enough gone from the wasting that many gay men had. Always the first sign of the last days.

"Are you OK"? Worried look.

Anyway it is a change for me. All I need to get used to is the feeling that the pants are riding just a little bit too low. And about another half inch so the 32 inch waist really really fits without a bit if squeeze.

I truly believed that I would never see 32 inches again.

And yes. I am wearing a belt. Maybe I can go to the non-belt thing but not yet.

Labels: clothing, health, life