A Sunday morning “I have to blog something!” entry

I’ve been waiting for the Muses (or somebody like them) to deliver onto me a theophany but alas no such luck. I haven’t a scrap of inspiration. Sometimes (like now) I start typing hoping a preternatural entity will come and take over my fingers like a ouija board. Let’s see if by the end of the entry I put out something brilliant or mere rubbish.

 

I suppose the Muses haven’t been able to get in a word even if they wanted to, as work and entertaining a guest has had precedent.*  Happily, the guest doesn’t need much attention. He seems content to lie outside in a bathing suit although it is only in the mid- to upper 70s.  He points out this is glorious weather compared to the cimmerian Chicago winter he has to endure.  Yesterday we took him the Botanical Gardens and everyone got a little too much sun. We all dropped dead by 9PM. Gads, but it’s tiring being old.

 

“There’s work to be done” – indeed!  I need to finish my paperwork, sew a shirt, go to the gym, and read blogs which have been neglected for a week.  On the gay agenda Someone and I will take said guest to The Bunkhouse for afternoon beers, so he can once more sit outdoors in the horrible wholesome sunshine before packing up to fly back to Land of Perpetual Snow and Ice.

 

Somebody – or Somebodies – have dropped a tiny pebble of a potential topic into the pool of my psyche, causing a tiny ripple throughout my consciousness. It’s about ‘them bloggers I read and them bloggers who comment”. They suggest I write a blog post on this disproportionate number, estimated at 10:1 (or so they claim). This doesn’t sound like the Muses, the Norns, the Fates, or even the Furies – but the Skanks. I suppose when your B&B is in desperate straits one can’t be too choosey about who stays there, but I will tell them I am booked; they should try Motel 6 or one of the bloggers on my roster list.

Blogger-buddies who got this far may take heed they may soon be thinking of blogging on this divine if uncharitable topic.

 

 

* The other activity diverting me from blogging is sewing. I am working long hours trying to get a shirt completed by Thursday.  I’m living in a sweat-shop. But I make myself stop every three hours for water breaks.

Five items of good cheer

Every year about now my friend Joel flies in for a long weekend to be rid of the Chicago winter. This year he is especially grateful; he tells me the Midwest has been relentless in its continuous snow and gray skies.   A few days ago he called me from an outside train station. He sounded on the verge of cracking up.  Today’s high in the upper 70s have already done a great deal of restoration to his sanity.

We took him to a restaurant in Scottsdale where (to my delight) I found sotol on the drinks menu. I tried without success while in PV to locate some sotol to sample.  Lo! They have it here in my own backyard!  I finally got to try some. It wasn’t bad; it had a taste of a light tequila with herbaceous and grassy undertones.  It is one minor thing I can strike off my bucket-list. “Seeing the northern lights” will be a bit more challenging.

Brother #3 called this evening ‘to let the cat out of the bag” my sister-in-law is pregnant with #2. This is a near miracle as it was difficult enough to have #1, my niece, AKA “Princess-Goddess”.  Splendid news indeed!  For selfish reasons I hope it is a boy, for  I can’t think of any more female archetype nicknames (the other niece being christened “Warrior-Queen”)  I think I will pass on to the male munchkin the nickname I received from my uncle, ‘Iron (insert name here)”

I gave up Facebook for Lent. I received a lot of direct and indirect negative comments on both giving up FB and/or for giving up anything at all.*  I’ve discovered I spend a lot of time ‘checking in on Facebook”.  I figure my ‘real friends’ know how to contact me if they need to do so.  Meanwhile I am spending the windfall free time reading.  It feels liberating.  No cat photos or offers to join on-line games!

The fifth and final note of good cheer:  the blogger convention is less than a week away. I am looking forward to seeing the established chums and meeting some new ones.  Here is current sleeping arrangements in the hospitality lounge suite: DougT and I will share one room while Ron T. and his chum Pat will lodge in the adjacent room.  Cubby and Nate were persuaded to give up their dreary little Motel 6 room to sleep downstairs on the pull-out bed.  I am glad C&N will stay two nights now. That makes 6 hospitable men.  I will be Boniface-master.

* Aside note: the criticism I’ve received from gay men about being Catholic far surpasses any I’ve received from Catholics about being gay.

A Spo-dirge

I’ve entered into The Doldrums and I am not certain why this happened. Anyone who has read “The Phantom Tollbooth” knows one usually gets into The Doldrums by not thinking, but I don’t think that is the cause. Nor can I attribute it to inclement weather.  Work hasn’t been especially heinous.  Apparently I’ve imploded without reason.

Today I went off Facebook for forty days. I was pleasantly surprised to see how much more free time I had today. This mild satisfaction (in combination with the blues) lures me to unplug from everything else. When I am in the Doldrums I fancy shutting down everything including taking the phone off the hook.  It is sorely tempting to crawl into a ball, hedgehog-like, and put out the Do Not Disturb Sign.  There is a list of things to do around the house, a list as long as my arm, but I have not motivation to do any of them. I seem to be wasting my evenings watch Youtube.

As I sit and type this I am becoming more conscious of the factors from whence comes this dirge.**  In summary, I am tired of long work hours combined with a sense of deprivation of time and all it entails.

A friend arrives tomorrow for his annual Get-out-of-the-Midwest March holiday.  It will be nice to have company. There is nothing like company to get me out of contemplating my navel and licking my wounds.

Come back in a few days; I will be more cheerful then.

 

** Spo-fans who really want to know are free to email me for the details.

Spo-bits on Fat Tuesday

I read on-line today is Mardi Gras. I completely forgot about this day, which shows you how unimportant it is to me. I am “not against Mardi Gras”. It’s just I never know what I am supposed to do on Fat Tuesday.  I grew up WASP,; there were no parades, gaudy costumes, or revelry.  I don’t relish the notion of gorging myself.  I tend to work on Tuesday and Wednesday, which don’t seem too different really.  Someone has a box of green, yellow, and purple beads. I suppose I could don a few strands and shock the patients. That’s about it for me. Such a reprobate.

Wednesday is Ash Wednesday. Thanks to work I will miss church service. On this day I abstain from meat and eat sparingly, for old dignity sake.  This reminds me to think of some sort of Lenten penance. I know many poo-poo the notion of ‘giving up something for Lent”, but I find it a good discipline. The pang of missing a mawkish pleasure is a gentle tug to remind me of more spiritual matters.

As I have a dozen new year’s resolutions, it is hard to find something new to better myself. I am a sinking ship with no freight to throw overboard.

Someone, as usual, is no help. Whenever I ask for some ideas as to how to improve myself viz. what bad habit around the house I could work upon, he goes mum. I suspect he could name a dozen things I do that drives him bats, but darned if I can drag them out of him.

 

I don’t want to give up something too easy, like pickles (seldom) or smoking cigars (never). Perhaps I could give up Facebook, or Scruff, or Youtube.  That would hurt, ouch!  Giving up tea or whisky is beyond Lent and borders on self-inflicted martyrdom. I will think about it.

Spo-Reflections on Loneliness

I often see patient who are terrified at being alone. This is often seen in patients with something called borderline personality disorder and in patients with panic or anxiety disorders. Folks with ‘extrovert’ wiring are also not comfortable with being alone.

In every patient, pilgrim, or analysand I have met all of them have been obliged the ordeal of loneliness. They must endure loneliness on their mystical path. It is a difficult but necessary phase of The Journey.

Why is this necessary? The simple reason is one must be able to hear The Voice. You can’t hear from the gods or the psyche if there is noise and interactions and distractions.  If The Journey comes from within, it is when you first encounter the archetypal forces. Heaven speaks not like the ending of “Angels in America’ but with a whisper,  hardly heard.

You have to give up what you thought your life was to be.  “I have no attachment” says the person in loneliness; what does psyche/heaven/God want from me?

By the way, I sometimes have to caution patients in the loneliness phase of Journey to be prepared not only to give up what you thought your life was to be but to brace themselves for what may be the answer to the inner-journey.  What if Psyche ends up saying “Go live your life quietly. That is your life-task. What I want you to do is go live in some pokey part of town as it needs balance and you are to provide it. Your Journey is to be no big thing, but a light among darkness.”  Would you/could you say “Oh! I could do that!” or would you respond  “WTF? You want me to go hang out? I want a real task! Give me something heroic and flashy!”

I speak of loneliness in matters of  the growth of Psyche.  This phase eventually passes. Paradoxically you become at ease with being alone. You are no longer forlorn but at peace, although they superficially resemble each other like gold to fool’s gold.

Loneliness in a social situation – a person without a social support network – serves no purpose. It does not enhance but blights one’s Journey.  There is no growth in this sort of loneliness. I see more fear in my patient about being alone than about dying. This type of being alone I would not wish on anyone, for loneliness of this sort makes simple problems feel tragic.  It is a risk factor for suicide. It is hard at times when I see someone ‘alone’ to determine should I leave them to their task or not.

Perhaps we need new words to better clarify ‘being alone’ at ease with your Self and ‘being alone’ bereft of companions.  And both need discrimination from ‘loneliness’.

Urspo goes to Urgent Care

On Saturday Someone exclaimed my eye was bleeding. This was news to me, but sure enough, I looked in the mirror and lo! – the lower medial quadrant of my left eye was a bloody mess.  It had an irregular stain, like a drop of catsup onto a white tablecloth. Not pretty.

And today it looks no prettier. The centre of the blemish had turned yellow, the redness had spread, and I saw a slight bulge to the conjunctiva. The nasty thing appears to have become  purulent. I took Someone’s sensible advise to go to Urgent Care.  At least it solves my Sunday afternoon quandary of what to blog about today.

I have never been to an Urgent Care. My patients go all the time whenever they have panic attacks or they have colds. Both endeavours sound to be  a waste of time. They convey UC pats their hands, assures them they are having a panic attack, and sends them home after some hours wait.  The patients who go for cold symptoms always get antibiotics, regardless of the complaint.

There is an Urgent Care in our neighborhood. Someone once had to take a repairman there when the unfortunate man cut his hand while working at our house.  The UC is open on Sunday; and there was no one waiting in the waiting room.

I never can determine whether or not I should disclose to the ER physician I am a doctor. I want to be treated like everyone else. On the other hand, if a doctor knows he or she is treating a colleague then they don’t have to spend as much time ‘explaining or teaching’ or hand-holding. The business is quick and to the point.

I had a bit of fun with triage person/nurse (his professional status was not clarified) as he asked me to read the eye chart. I memorized the 20/20 and 20/10 lines years ago, so this isn’t fair. He was pleased at my vision’s acuity until he discovered I wasn’t even facing the eye chart.

I didn’t see a proper doctor but a physician’s assistant, who had an uncanny resemblance to my sister-in-law, who is an ER physician. I took this as a good omen.  She looked at my eye under black light for signs of scrapes and cuts. None were found. I asked if she saw any scorpions in my eye** but there were none therein.

Happily my eye had merely as a burst blood vessel and the yellow matter mistaken for pus was merely the bruise going through its natural progression. There is no infection, no retinal hemorrhage, no scrapes, and no bugs.  I didn’t need drops or antibiotics. I did not ask for Oxycontin.  It was worth the 120$ to get things assured.
And I can truly say now “The red scarf matches my eyes”.

 

**  In AZ if you go outside at night with a black light you can locate them via the fluorescence – if this is your idea of a good time. When it comes to scorpions Someone and I take a ‘Don’t ask; don’t tell” approach.  I don’t want to know how many are lurking around the house.

Urspo gets his rocks off

This is written during a period of bibulous activity. So if it has typos or (worse!) grammatical errors Spo-fans must beg my pardon:  it is the wine that is at fault.  After dinner I was going to discuss philosophy with Someone but he spurned my discourses and went right to sleep. I am left with frustrated discourses – as it were. At least I can sublimate my psychic energies into an entry…….

Every few days some eager businessman deposits onto my driveway a parcel of very small rocks. They are delivered (usually) in a small clear plastic bag stapled to a business card, advertising lawn service or something of that nature. I suppose the rocks are to prevent the card from blowing away.  Perhaps it is because of my namesake, I have a panache for rocks; I tend to ignore the cards (which naturally are of no interest) for the stones. What sort of rocks has someone provided for my collection?  I like igneous types of rocks rather than those in the metaphoric or sedentary categories.  It’s a disappointment to receive a card joined to mica, quartz, or feldspar.  I relate to pyroxenes; no rubbish.

Actually I am fond of rocks in general and if a fellow gives me his I am most grateful.  I enjoy getting my rocks off. I take these gems and wash them until they shine.  I put them in a sack and bounce them for luck and the pure pleasure of hearing them clang in their pouch. Sometime I get my rocks off and roll them around. By now I have a marvelous collections of stones, of great shape size and colour, the admiration of many.   I am most grateful for these anonymous fellows who give me their rocks.  Any Spo-fans wishing to give me their rocks I promise to take good care of them and make sure they are fondled and appreciated.

Please read me a story ! MEME

PLEASE READ ME A STORY!

I’ve read this one around blog-land. Being a book-lover, I enjoyed the responses.   Here are my own answers.

1. Describe your favorite place to cozy-up with a good book.

The best place for reading is deep within a large comfy chair, or in bed surrounded by pillows and blankets. This cocoon-like environment parallels what is going on in the mind as I read: a metamorphosis, or better yet, a metanoia.

2. What do you read when you’re on the toilet?

I don’t ever read on the commode. My goal is to do the business and get up/out as soon as possible. It is the precise opposite setting as described in Answer #1.

3. Do you read when taking a bath?

Sometimes, but it’s inevitable I get water on the book, so I read magazines or cheap books rather than ‘good ones’.

4. If you can, do you read when at the gym?

No. I start to focus on the book and not on the exercise. This is also true for audiobooks.

5. Do you still read newspapers and or magazines?

I read a few magazines and several journals. I carry a few in my briefcase at all times. When there is opportunity I pull one out and read one.

6. What are your favorite genres to read?

Classic literature, science fiction, and scientific books are my favorites.

7. Do you read one book at a time or can you read several?  I read several at a go. I tend to read a few chapters of one, then transfer over to an other. I like to read but my attention span is not long. I know I am reading  a TGR (thumping good read) when I stick with one read.

8. If you start a book, do you finish it no matter what?

I used to feel guilty if I didn’t finish a book. Now I assert myself to stop reading something boring or not holding my interest. There are too many books to waste time with the disappointments.

9. Did your parents read to you when you were growing up? Yes. These reads are some of my favorite childhood memories.

10. Have you read to your kids/nephews/nieces?

Alas, no. I am not around them to do so.

11. How do you feel about reading books vs. using electronic devices? Have your feelings evolved from one or two years ago? 

I still can’t get myself to purchase one of these upstarts. I love too much the smell of old books and the sounds of crisp new book being opened.

BONUS 

When was the last time you looked at or read an adult magazine to satisfy yourself? When was the last time you even saw one? 

Some time ago now, I brought a penny-dreadful to one of my Key West holidays. I recall it had the title something like  “Get thee behind me”.  It was so lurid and disgusting it was a jolly good read indeed. However, I was rather shocked – not by the graphic details but by its poor grammar.

Spo-bits on Tuesday: grapefruits, gummi-bears and stupid AZ GOP persons

The Board of Directors Here at Spo-Reflections is in a quandary. They sent me a congratulatory e-mail stating they are pleased as punch to see ‘the comments soar’ in yesterday’s entry.  Of course, TBDHSR had its customary Parthian shot.  They conveyed ‘concern’ and had umbrage I was promoting ‘swinging”.  In my response e-mail I pointed out Spo-fans are on the whole a randy bunch and if TBDHSR really wanted to increase ratings they should give me permission to discuss my private life in lurid details, or (better yet) allow me to drop my pants in public.

I have yet received their response to this modest proposal; the suspense is killing me.

Alas, there is not much else to say. It’s been work, work, work, and sometimes late into the night. I haven’t had much time to do anything else. I’m over a week behind in reading blogs. I’ve neglected my stretching. Five half-finished books brought back from Mexico sit unexamined.

It is only Tuesday and it is as if I have worked a week.

One of the boss-men gave me a bag of grapefruit. Phoenix has a lot of orange and grapefruit trees which put out en masse at this time of year. It is the SW equivalent of “too many tomatoes” in late August. Sacks of citrus are thrust upon you from everyone.  Happily I love the things. A daily grapefruit is a lovely thing indeed, although they often make my lips break out. I look a pariah but I’m a happy man.

Someone and I don’t usually discuss politics but we’ve been processing whether or not the AZ governor will sign or veto the pernicious bill. Maybe it won’t pass. A few Republicans have come out against it, including Mitt Romney of all people. Republicans don’t bear any love for GLBT but they may be savvy enough to see the economic and political damage it could bring onto the state.  Last night Someone was watching Mr. Cooper interview a local politician on the nasty thing. I can say with certainty the interviewee sounded the most intensely stupid person I have heard in ages. I had to leave the room to get out of earshot for it was really too painful to hear.

Someone tells me this man wants to run for governor.  Arizona is too small to be East North Korea and too large to be an insane asylum.

On that sour note, I should bid you all good-night.  Someone (the dear!) bought me a bag of gummy-bears and I have a hot date for group sex making love with the little fellows.

Spo-Reflections on polyamory: Can or should gay couples be monogamous?

This is one is about gay men and sex.

Family members and Spo-fans who are squeamish may want to come back some other day. 

 

“Gay marriage” has certainly raised a lot of ruckus. Many of my friends and patients have become married in the past few years*.  It’s intriguing to see how these nuptials imitate (or not) traditional heterosexual marriages. While gays/lesbians want the legal and economic equalities given to straight married couples, I don’t see much desire to become ‘true onto death’ viz. monogamy.  Monogamy doesn’t seem to be too important in gay couples, even after they formalize their relationships.

 

I know a lot of gay couples, personally and professionally, and I estimated most of them have sexual liaisons outside of their relationship. I recently found a statistic to support this hypothesis. This week in one of my shrink-journals a therapist reported in his research paper ~ 2 of 3 gay male couples have sex outside of their relationship.  I suspect this is under reported.

 

The term for it is “polyamory”, which is a fancy word to describe an open relationship.

 

Is it possible to be ‘true’ to your spouse but have sex elsewhere? Apparently yes, given the statistic just quoted.

“Emotionally monogamous; sexually polyamorous” is another intriguing term in the mentioned paper.  Polyamory is an extremely rare situation in my straight friends/patients**.

 

Either the gay guys have successfully separated themselves from traditional heterosexual relationship standards, or they are fooling themselves. Perhaps things aren’t so jolly as they state it is. In their defense,  in my own ‘research’,  the gay couples I know fall into the former category; they are doing OK with polyamory.  Indeed, there seems to be a correlation between the surety of the love-bond and the ease for either or both parties play elsewhere. Fascinating.

 

Perhaps the explanation is more prosaic: men like to have sex. Therefore, gay men are more willing to allow ‘extramarital affairs’ as they understand the need – or want it too.

The straight man’s criticism of gay men’s satyriasis may be merely sour grapes and envy.

It’s all rather complex and somewhat ineffable.  That pretty well sums up human sexuality.

 

 

*Alas, if they live here, they have to go elsewhere to tie the knot, as AZ remains nasty on this subject of gay marriage. Indeed, by the end of the week the AZ governor will sign an even more acrimonious bill against gays, as most of you know.

 

** The exception is the French. A Frenchman traditionally has a wife and a mistress. However if monsieur should happen onto a third woman he is likely to find himself with two bread knives in his back.  The rules are different; breaking the rules is the same.