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  • welcome to the hole

    welcome to the hole

    Once upon a time, I kept a LiveJournal account, gryphons_hole, a deep, dark, comfy little hole in my brain where I kept notes on my life and queerness.

    This is the archive to that account, mostly password protected, adult, queer content, stripped of photo content after the site restructured its photo hosting feature. I hope to restore that content as well.

    If I know you, ask for the password. If I don’t, hope for a generous mood.

    08.18.24 I have realized a need to continue in this space. A kink reawaking if you will, with content that may range into inappropriate for my other blog spaces.

  • ugh!

    The steps on the loading dock have been temporarily moved due to excavation for some water problems in the building. The replacement steps are placed behind the dumpster, so that trucks still have access to the dock. It is only a minor inconvenience, mostly that I have been going one direction off the dock for two years now…

    This morning, the inconvenience increased. Kuma and I headed out to the DAV for the now infamous Sunday Sale. Some jack-ass parked an SUV in the drive right alongside the dumspter, pulling completely up to the fence gate that clearly read ‘no parking’. The butt-end of the vehicle was less than two feet from the dumpster, forcing both of us to squeeze between the two.

    Luckily, Kuma always has pen and paper in his vehicle.

    “I find it greatly discourteous that you chose to park your vehicle in a spot that requires everyone else to climb past a filthy dumpster.”

    By the time we returned from shopping, someone had added an anonymous “Me, too.”

    Go me.

  • the fickle fate of fashion

    Little by little, I have been (re)teaching myself about the terminology of men’s clothing.

    It started with collar styles on dress shirts…
    This article helps with equal amounts of information and snark. I like that combination.

    Tonight, I was sorting through the sport coats I have recently acquired from my thrifting and putting them up in the newly shelved closet.

    Although I have no proper suits (and am not likely to have them…) I got to thinking about the drop of the suit. Since I began shopping at the DAV, I have become very aware of the changes as per measure and fit in the clothing industry over the years. Since Thrift stores carry clothes of all manufacture and time frames, the perfect fit can range a broad spectrum of sizes. Although the snugger side of my range is my ‘night-time’ apparel, I buy the full range from 31 to 36 inch waist in trousers. 31 and 32 are insanely tight on me but 33 through 36 can all fit my perfectly depending on when the slacks were produced…

    Back to drop.

    I remember buying a suit back in college. The term drop came into the conversation. A suit’s drop is the difference between the jacket size and the trouser size, namely the difference between the chest and the waist. Back then (if I recall correctly), the standard drop was eight inches. An athletic drop was nine inches. I was a standard drop. I didn’t mind. At the time I got very little exercise and was not fit at all, so I am amazed in thinking back that I ever fit a standard drop.

    Currently, I am an athletic drop, only I am still an eight inch drop. The standards have changed. This article defines the current standards (link removed, no longer active.). According to the article, a standard suit drop is only six inches, an athletic is eight inches. It also lists a portly drop as 4 to 0. That seems a rude word choice to me. (I had to shop in the husky boys department growing up. I still suffer from that.)

    Anyway, that makes a two inch increase in girth in just fifteen years, less than a generation. And on top of that, athletes have gained an average inch to their midsections. And the men’s fashion industry grows fickle as we grow. They hide the gain and mask the differences. I have known for some time men’s pants sizing is off by an entire size. A thirty-four inch waist pant will fit a thirty-six inch waist, comfortably.

    In this, I am not one for denial.
    For the record, I have a literal thirty-six inch waist, a forty-four inch chest. I am six foot five inches and currently weight in the neighborhood of 215 pounds.

  • I have today off. No alarm was set. I awoke to the phone ringing. I don’t get out of bed for the phone; I cannot get to it before the machine takes the call. It was my mother. As the record caught her call, she announced that Dad went back into the hospital. He has a blood clot in his lung.

    I just got off the phone with Mom. Dad had been in a nursing home for physical therapy for the last two weeks. Bad choice of nursing homes it would seem. They didn’t do much except pass off everything under the phrase of “his bloodwork is fine.”

    He hasn’t really gotten any therapy, since he has been coming up faint. Faint. Faint. Faint. Even being returned to his room in a wheelchair, he turns up faint. Then he passed out in his bed. Bastards.

    So, he is back in the hospital. He is on Heparin in attempts to dissolve the clot. Unfortunately, he tends to bleed internally when he is on the stuff. Last two times, he began coughing up blood…

    My mom and oldest sister are schedule to tour Italy and the surrounding area starting next week. They are moving forward, as I think they should. Two family friends will be visiting and monitoring Dad. Mom told me that herself and all three of us kids have medical POA for Dad, starting with Mom and going in descending order of age, which puts me last on the list.

    I am just fine with that. I barely manage my own health drama.

    That leaves the other queer child in charge while they are both travelling.

    This has become all too real. I am a mess about this.

    I have this thing. throughout my life, I have had experiences with people that insist that I couldn’t be prepared for whatever situation for which I said I was preparing. Only, as it most often turned out, I was prepared exactly as I felt I was.

    In this case…? Not. At. All.

    I have been preparing for my father’s death for over a decade now. He is 72, the age when his oldest brother died. Turns out I am not prepared at all for this… Who am I kidding. I am not even past the lost of my grandmothers and that was in the late 80s. It really sucks losing the last two grandparents in the same year. I hate that they are gone from my life.

    It would seem that I am not ready to have only one parent. For all my talk and bravado about isolation and distance and separation from the world, moments like these lead me to wonder if I am all empty gesturing, posing from a place of comfort in a family that is whole and loving…

    This sucks.

  • buzzing by

    Blur. Blur. Blur.
    The world spins by my sleep-crusted eyes.

    Work keeps me exhausted and unproductive in my life. I am close to simply just being.
    What has it been? Two months of overtime now? Ugh.

    And the money doesn’t pile up, either. I am getting by, but spending seems to be constant in a life where I need so little…

    This weekend may prove to be a proper one, with two whole days in it. <kumazuki> is coming up before a work-related event in Topeka. Excellent timing, I would say. And Thanksgiving is that much closer now…

    *SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*

    My life is piling up around me. Literally. In boxes and heaps, I slowly lose square footage to the growing homage to my disorganization.

    I need to throw shit away. I need to find my tripod. I need to clean my shit up.

  • open studio @ the hobbs

    open studio @ the hobbs

    The crunch is on!
    Fall Open Studio at the Hobbs is October 10 and 11: Friday from 6-10 pm, Saturday from noon to 4 pm…

    The studio is always a disaster going into it. Write that up under the never-learns column.

    I still haven’t gotten back to drawing. No big concern there as long as I hit it in time for the Valentines shows in February. So, the focus is on self portraits. I am very happy with some of the results I have been getting. I will not be able to afford any high-end outputs, but I plan some lower price-point photo enlargements…

    Work on the studio has begun. Maybe not the the most obvious starting point. I attacked the storage heap of a closet of mine. The studiomate helped build and install some shelves for more proper organization. The overhead shelf will still hold storage stuff, but nowhere else. I am tired of fighting the clothes hanging around the studio. From hence forth, the wardrobe stays in the closet. Unless it is out on me.

    Or dirty, like me…

    I also began cladding my doors with quarter inch plywood, cut into various squares and strips. The doors rot ass! They always have. I am finally tired of looking at them as I climb the stairs. And Michael, the studiomate, had a pile of excellent scrap lumber piling up at work. I love free materials and supplies…

    I will take some shots when the projects are finished.

    October is a three paycheck month, so big big bonus right before the Open Studio, which means I can put some money into snacks and adult beverages. Nothing hugely pricey in mind, but I am glad to have the funds to offer a nice choice…

    Back to the crunch…

  • seen on a billboard:

    seen on a billboard:

    I have been meaning to post about this for a while now. This is the effect of being easily distracted.

    There is a billboard along I-35 just over into Kansas. It advertises a local university hospital.
    It reads:

    In Relentless Pursuit of Curing Cancer

    The damned thing bunches my panties into knots every time I pass by it.

    What exactly does that mean? I know what they think they are saying, but I don’t think they actually say it. Working Towards the Cure is equally vague, but much stronger. They offer nothing of the specifics of their treatments; no facts, no helpful information. Just vague fucking stupidity.

    The image with it doesn’t help: this mousy nondescript man in a scrub top. He could be a doctor, he could be an intern, he could be an orderly. He looks numbingly off into the distance, perhaps future. You know, the future that has the cure, where they no longer need to pursue it.

  • another right now

    another right now

    This is what a full night’s sleep and daylight can do.

    I am often amazed at the difference myself…
    (even if I still prefer to alter contrast and saturation…)

  • Protected: um… er, yeah….

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  • right now

    right now
  • Protected: a wickedly good weekend

    Protected: a wickedly good weekend

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