My first cat passed away last night

Xena was my cat growing up, and when my first engagement ended she moved into the Richmond House with me, and resided there for four years. Many people in Dallas knew her as a really fat blur of fuzzy white that would shuffle from one overhead shelter to the next, couch to chair, chair to bed, etc, and some often confused her for some kind of feral creature that had gotten in during one of our parties.

She was a great pet, and an excellent nemesis. After a few evenings of having a girl stay the night, on one occasion, she climbed to the top of my bedroom set headboard (a good 6.5 feet up) and swan dived onto my head to express her discontent. Really, she was just being protective (and territorial), but it didn't stop me from bodily throwing her into the back of my couch. She righted herself, our eyes locked, and in that moment we knew where we stood with each other.

I loved that cat, as many who lived in the house did, in an embrace of all of her quirky bizzarities, such as chewing the air incessantly and doing the "talking cat" gag when her butt was scratched. She helped me through some really tough emotional times while I lived in Dallas. After I moved to Denton she went to live with my parents, her obesity had begun to get worse and she was losing her vision.

She spent 3 happy years in her original home until she died last night in her bed from cardiovascular complications, she was 19.

Bye Xena, I'm going to miss you, you cuddly evil bitch.

-Sean

What happens when I stay up all night and respond to two-week old messages on dating website

I wrote this girl two weeks ago on okcupid, and since I couldn't go to sleep after going to Ghostbar to see Tiefshwarts, Audiofly, and Steve Lawler, I decided that now would be a good time to pick the conversation up again.

=====SeanSparks wrote=====

Person I've messaged on here.

I am attempting to experiment with electronic socializing.

Also, we read a lot of the same books.

-Sean




=====(Redacted) wrote=====

The electronic socializing is, at its worst, incredibly amusing. I have had men from other countries message me asking if I will marry them so they can get their green card. I show the funny messages to my roommate and we laugh. I have also me some cool people. Either way, you win.
What are some of the books you like?




=====SeanSparks wrote=====

All time faves?

The Illuminatis! Trilogy by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson, The Hitchiker's "trilogy" by Douglas Adams (and anything else he ever wrote), The Discworld Series by Terry Pratchett, Anansi Boys by Neil Gaimen, Through a Scanner Darkly by Phillip K. Dick;

If we're talking fiction.

It's 6:30 in the morning and I haven't slept yet. Went out dancing last night at Ghost Bar and ended up staying up afterwards watching DVD's of the first season of The Sarah Conner Chronicles. I think this is one of those shows that I have to watch in a big marathon. Some stuff I can tolerate doing episode to episode, like Lost, because it helps build suspense, but I'm having a philosophical crisis with the plot line of this series and I need to see if my suspicions are confirmed.

You see, I think with the final Terminator movie they're going to reveal that this entire story has played out many times before, and that only the subtlest things change about what happens with each new instance. So I think the final movie will end with Christian Bale as John Conner, changing one new minute detail about all of the events, hoping it will work the next time around.

A lot of the episodes have emphasized the "game-like" nature of the Skynet system's behavior, so I think that all of existence is trapped in a four movie and one television series loop spanning the 30 some-odd years that the Terminator story takes place in. It starts with John Conner sending his best soldier back in time to knock his mom up so that he can be born, and ends with John Conner tracking all of the events and trying some new "move" against the course of events, to see if it will change the way the future ends up.

And if that's the way they end it, I'm going to be so fucking pissed. Fucking deux ex machina bullshit.

I hope this rant on the intricate story developments of a sci-fi phenomenon proves a better resource for mapping my persona on the web than a message full of detail probing niceties.

Kekeke.

It's no wonder my cats are running around the living room trying to kill each other right now. Beep keeps mounting their cat house, situated in front of the front door, and making this pitiful low pitch mew while craning up on two legs to look outside. I feel like such a bastard keeping them in like this, but Beep's run away for more than three days on 3 occasions now, and I'm trying to keep them inside so they'll remember where home is.

If anyone has any advice on this, lemme know, because I'm kind of stumped. Both Beep and Rom have been in/out cats since they were big enough to go outside, and now Beep leaves for 3 days to a week.

It's fucking 6:47 AM, and I've been up for 24 hours and 47 minutes now. I'm not sure why my insomnia decided to kick in tonight, I'm not particularly angsty or upset about anything, aside from having to put a spare on my front right tire because I blew it out on my way home from Ghostbag last night.

Class in four hours. Might as well just stay up and pray this shit wears off before it's too late to get some sleep before work tonight. Ass shaking punchy sarcastic Sean does not sound like a good recipe for tips.

Have I rambled tangentially for long enough yet?

-Sean

Fuck you, internet connection

I've just wrapped up the third in a series of exhaustingly long days, work nap work school nap work work school sleep work school work nap... like that. I got home with the mother of all sinus congestions, and with heavy gulps of air through my mouth I stared expectantly at my computer screen as last night's episode of Heroes started to play.

And then stop. And then play. And then stop. And then play.

I reset my modem and router twice, rebooted my computer, eventually unplugged the ethernet from my wireless and went straight into my laptop, all with no improvement on my viewing experience. I've been pressing pause as it starts each new segment and waiting five minutes, and that actually gets me through about half the segment before it starts chopping up on me again.

I can't breathe, my heater still isn't turned on because I don't have a ladder to get into my attic to turn on the pilot light, and now I can't even watch the show I wanted to watch to wind down before having to go to bed early, so that I can wake up at six and do this whole fucking rat race again.

And I can't breathe. And it fucking sucks.

-Sean

OKCupid

I have a profile on OKCupid, a dating website that I've found has a pretty solid array of interesting and sexy people. I met a trio of awesome people, a boy and two girls he was involved with, at a swinger party two weekends ago, and they told me they met on OKCupid. Since I was really impressed with each of them, I assumed that a website that matched up neat individuals that well couldn't be that far off the mark.

Lately I've been more concerned with meeting interesting people than I have with sexy, though I have to admit I like my interesting people to be sexy... regardless, I've been approaching likely candidates that I'd like for potential hangout buddies or someone I can bullshit with on the internet in a more candid, sarcastic fashion.

One girl said in her "Contact me if" box:

"You actually have something to say."

So I decided to contact her:

There are exactly 732 rocks in my front and back yard. Don't ask me why I know, I don't like disclosing that story to people I don't know, I just do.

There, I said it. I feel better for having told someone the number.

Thanks for being my confessional.

Oh! Also, I like the shape of your head. It has good symmetry.

-Sean

A picture is worth a thousand words

Or several hours of wasted time.

I've seriously had that picture open for two days now in my browser, and am loathe to close it. I keep clicking on it now and again and dose myself with ten seconds of the cuddly-fuzzies, before returning to ignoring my studying by browsing the web for inanity.

I just signed up for my classes for next semester, and I honestly have no idea what I'm doing. I know that I need one more Italian class and one more Psychology class, but other than that I'm just kind of shooting in the general direction of counseling stuff. It's my last semester, so I'm having a hard time generating the juice to give a shit.

Other than that, life is actually really good. I made a LOT of money this weekend, and am finally out of my depressing slump of being so broke I could only afford to eat breaded things (PB&J, turkey sammich, grilled cheese).

Spent most of today sleeping and recovering from last night. It was my first time to work at S4 while the Halloween block party went on, and it was insane. Tons of people in costume, completely trashed, trying to pull my shorts off, grab my cock, etc, etc. I had to be on guard all night, and ended up smacking hands left and right, one of which belonged to an old acquaintance who was VERY drunk. Fucker should have known better.

This post has time traveled, because I left it open and went to work last night, so for a continuation on my work report...

Sunday night was slow, slow as molasses driving down a south dallas back road with an illegal immigrant at the wheel. The first two hours saw maybe five fresh faces in the back bar where I dance, and when people asked me how my night was going, I couldn't even get up the energy to put on my mask and lie. I just said "Shitty," and gestured to the empty bar. That actually scored me some pity tips.

Sundays are always slow at the club until about 12:30, and because it's 18 and up hip hop night nobody comes into the back. However, luck favored my plight, and one of the other dancers came in to hang out, stuffing dollars in my shorts and pushing his ex-boyfriend on me. He was cute, so I let him believe I was going to call him, and as a reward for my ruse one of his entourage popped their "tipping a stripper" cherry by giving me a $20.

For anyone who knows female strippers or has read or watched anything about female strippers, you're probably thinking, "Ooh, a twenty, way to make the big bucks Magoo," but what most people don't know is that male dancers, just like male pornstars, make shit compared to females in the industry. We're limited by a number of factors, including not being able to show what everyone who comes to see us really wants to see, and specific to my job (gogo dancing) not being able to sit with groups, do lapdances, etc. People aren't even legally allowed to touch me, though like any other dancer, I'll make an exception if they aren't repulsive and they don't try to rub their grimy hands all over my cock... and the money is forthcoming.

Back to the twenty. After the shy little boy with the taupe vest tipped me a twenty, my whole night took on a tinge of gold. I started dancing, smiled more, felt better in general. And it reflected on my wages, because people started coming to pay attention to me. There's two things that improve my mood at work, money and being paid attention to. Any person who dances erotically has to foster at least the smallest embryo of exhibitionist inside them, and feed that embryo with a healthy dose of narcissism if they really want to own the stage, so for me being paid attention to is like saying Beetlejuice's name three times. I'll gyrate and gesticulate with more dramatic poses and moves, be more engaging with customers, and make more money as a result.

In that last hour of work I went from 3 dollars to 57, at final count, which for a Sunday night is a pretty good take, when put on top of the 75 I get paid to show up. More than I'd make at Starbucks, at least.

No benefits, though, unless you count phone numbers and multiple drunken attempts at handjobs "benefits."

-Sean

I took a dating quiz on okcupid

The Playboy Random Gentle Sex Master (RGSM) Clean. Smooth. Successful. You're The Playboy. You're spontaneous, and your energy is highly contagious. Guys therefore find you fun to be around, and girls find you compelling. You have lots of sex, and you manage it all without seeming cheap or being hurtful. Well done. You probably know karate, too. It's obvious to us, and probably everyone else, that you're after physical rather than emotional relationships, but you're straight up with potential partners. And if a girl you want isn't into something casual, it's no big deal. You move on. BEFORE sleeping with her. Usually. At least you try to. Such control is rare. If you're feeling unfulfilled, maybe you should raise your standards. New conquests will only be satisfying if there's a possibility of rejection. Your exact male opposite: The Mixed Messenger Deliberate Brutal Love Dreamer Always avoid: The Playstation (RGSM) Consider: The Dirty Little Secret (DGSM), The Nurse (RGSD)

Link: The Online Dating Persona Test | OkCupid - singles | Dating My profile name: : SeanSparks

lol @ "you probably know karate".

-Sean

Have you ever been high as fuck?

I know I have. This is a my very first post on an internet blog, from my livejournal way back in the year of 2000!!!

Do you ever have one of those nights where you're so undeniably high, that you look into a glass as you're pouring orange juice into it and freak out because you can see through the bottom? Probably not; But at this very moment I am so stoned that I actually did something that stupid.

Being at this point of a high has only ever happened once in my whole life before. That was a different time of the year however, and I had just started dating this young girl named Amber. The year was 1988, and I was in middle school, on my way there when a group of older kids yelled at me from across the field...............................................

What the hell was I talking about?

Oh yeah, anyway the glass I poured the orange juice into. It was colored around the sides, so when I picked it up I wasn't expecting to see the counter. It was sort of an odd visual. You know, I kind of like this Livejournal thing, it gives me a reason to write, maybe I'll even write in every day. Although I shouldn't say that since the people reading it might not check back more. Stop typing what you're thinking, you idiot.

Shit, I'd better delete that. Don't put it off you idiot. You'll put it off and never remember. Fuck it, keep typing, you're probably going to forget you're doing that otherwise.

So that's what I was like when I was 19. It's good to see I haven't matured much over the years. Peter Pan complex and all that.

-Sean

Beep and the Phantom Cat

As I posted last week, Beep ran away for a bit, tramped around Amsterdam and found himself (in the arms of a Red Light District post-op reverse catsexual), and was recaptured by my friend Michelle sleeping under my neighbor's car.

After happily snuggling him helpless, I kept him inside for a few days until I could get a tag and a collar for him. I got him a cute little black one with a bell on it, so that I'd always be able to tell him apart from his doppelganger siblings, born of the same feral mother who led him away from the litter when she thought he was going to infect the others with an upper respiratory infection.

He kept the collar on, thankfully, because Romulus (the other cat) managed to get his off easily. Yesterday he came in to eat, and didn't have his collar on. I was a little bummed, but figured I'd get another one without a safety catch on it. Well, this morning he came back again, with his collar back on.

One of three things happened:

1. The Beep who wasn't wearing a collar wasn't really Beep at all, and was actually one of his sly evil siblings coming in for a free meal. Which is creepy to me, because I picked him up and snuggled him.
   
2. Whoever was feeding him before, when he was gone for five days, took the collar off of him when he came over to get a free meal.
3. Beep has developed opposable thumbs and a higher cognizance, and is totally fucking with me.
   

None of those options rests well with me, except option 2, in which whoever took the collar off of him realized that someone out there probably loved him very much, and decided to return the collar (and cat) to it's rightful owner.

-Sean

I can't have caffeine

Over this summer my skin went batshit crazy, again, and I had horrible breakouts for months. I have really bad adult acne, and keeping it under control is a constant struggle. I figured it was part stress, part partying, and part caffeine.

Well, I eventually eliminated some of the stress, and cut down on the partying (to where I was at least sleeping regularly), and the shit wouldn't stop. I even cut down on the caffeine, but kept drinking green tea. Two weeks ago I decided to just stop drinking green tea as well, and BAM, the shit just stops breaking out.

Now it's healing, and I'm realizing that I can never have caffeine. In the scope of unfairness in the world, it's not so bad, but dammit I like to get jacked up and go dancing as much as the next person, or writing, or just bullshitting with friends at a coffee shop.

Oh well.

So it's back to sprinting every other morning for wake-up energy. Yay sprints!

OH HOW I LOVE TO SPRINT, IT IS JUST THE GREATEST BURNING FEELING IN MY CHEST THAT MAKES ME GASP FOR AIR LIKE A MAN DYING OF A GUNSHOT WOUND TO THE LUNG EVER!

-Sean

Sexual activist vs... sexual activist?

Dan Savage, the well-known sex-advice columnist, just did a small slam piece on the New York Poly Pride Day, which was co-organized by one of my New York lovers and sexual rights advocate, Diana Adams. Her and my long distance boy lover Ed were the ones featured in the New York Times article a few weeks ago.

http://slog.thestranger.com/2008/10/...assumptions_ab

Despite my obvious affiliations, this is interesting to me because Dan Savage, ardent defender of the kinky and gay, is slamming a celebration of an intimate lifestyle that encourages communication, honesty (both social and individual), and is open to all walks of kink and sexual/gender affiliation.

Diana already replied to it, and even offered Dan a chance to go tet-a-tet on opinions and views with regard to sex-positivism. I'd love it if they actually did a podcast or interview as some kind of meeting of the minds, because I'd like to hear some more on why Dan Savage doesn't like poly being out in the open in this fashion.

-Sean

I love Doctor Who

I've been in the process of redesigning my living room for more effective and productive living. Basically I'm taking the big TV and couches facing the TV out of the equation, because the big TV and couches facing the TV generally encourage me along one very predictable path.

However, I just got my netflix for the day, and the third season of Doctor Who. I love Doctor Who. Doctor Who resonates so much with my wild adventurous heart and traveling spirit. The completely obsessed madman with his magical time machine who becomes excited at the slightest notion of an interesting concept... well, he just burns me up inside.

Plus, the tenth doctor IS a rather attractive man.

I've been sabotaging my own watching experience, though, because I keep looking up information on the show on Wikipedia. I completely ruined the surprise of who the Doctor's new companion is and how long she stays with him for myself. So much for my sense of adventure, if I had a time machine I'd probably just skip to the end of everything and then get bored with it.

-Sean

Rocky Horror!

Well! I do declare! Halloween traditions sometimes DO keep up to task with my own desire for weirdness and fun, and I just happened to notice that the UNT theater department is hosting a fundraiser Rocky Horror performance in the Lyceum next Thursday (the 23rd).

I haven't been to a Rocky Horror in years, and honestly I think it's time.

Who's coming with me?

*wiggles fingers*

-Sean

Beep Returns!

YAY!

After a five day tour of the neighborhood, Beep returned victorious (and hungry). My friend Michelle spotted him in the driveway and scooped him up. I think I nuzzled him until he started grunting.

Adorable little fucker. I'm getting him a collar and a GPS beacon, so next time I'll know when he steal my car at three in the morning to go smoke pot with those older cats down the street.

Just took a four hour nap. Is that even qualifiable as a nap? I know I got at least one REM cycle in, because I woke up at the end of this crazy dream where I'd just taken the most satisfying dump in my life. Fortunately my dream didn't translate into bodily functions, but I tried to avoid rolling around in bed all the same when I was getting up.

Have Capoeira tonight, what's become the highlight of my Monday and Wednesday nights. This week we're focusing on learning how to play the instruments and sing in Portugese, which is part of why I love it so much. We're not just learning a martial art, we're learning how to celebrate a culture, and it's nice diving head first into something like that coming from a place that knows less about celebrating culture than it does about commodifying it.

I've spent almost this entire day naked. I love being naked.

Aaannnnddd scene.

-Sean

So I thought I was down for the count

Two days of no sleep, hit myself with a bunch of sedatives when I got home, laid in bed and waiting. Nothing's happening. I'm still awake, just incredibly delirious, now. I just got out a secret stash of super happy fun pills that are capsules with 3/4 valium and 1/4 xanax. I like to just pour a little salt pile of it on my hand and lick it off. Mer and I used to put it on each other and lick it off when we would use it to cure our cracked out states of minds.

Now I wait. The cat sleeps beside me, also waiting. Waiting for me to fall asleep, so that he can wake up and figure out a new way to dig his claws into my body through the blankets, his "way of getting comfortable." Whatever, he's a malicious fucker who likes to wake me up.

Evil cat.

I can't wait to wake up tomorrow, I have this really neat feeling about life.

-Sean

Back from Myschevia

Back from Myschevia, haven't slept all weekend, fogged out of my skull and deliriously typing in my blog. After sleeping in my brother's Four Runner for two nights in a mosquito infested forest, I finally caved in and headed home, but not until I'd danced my ass off, mixed a bunch of my new favorite tunes after the burn, and resolved some social tension issues, which always helps you leave a party feeling like you actually got something productive done: "I strengthened bonds with people I was having difficulties with... yay, now that will make up for not working for two days and spending a bunch of cash on gas to get down here."

Kekeke. I'm just bitter because I'm poor.

I really did come away from this weekend feeling that the totally hedonistic celebration, honoring the ancient spiritual tradition of lighting shit on fire and getting really fucked up around it, gave me the chance to set a lot of shit straight in my head and my life. I spent the drive back this afternoon jacked up on aderal and caffiene meditating on how to take my life apart and put it back together in a more efficient way, how to start studying more, improve my productivity in general, etc, and actually made a stop off at Walmart to pick up some school supplies for organizing with a trapper keeper.

Next step is decommisioning my living room as a TV watching room, and converting it into a study area. I don't need TV in my life right now, ever since I got the stupid thing in my house again (after 3 years without) I've caught myself watching more and more, and adding new recording subscriptions to the DVR every day. Sometimes I'll validate it by telling myself that it's good to watch shows about how various machines and processes function, or what kinds of neat new inventions are changing the face of agricultural development in the US.

So the TV goes out of the living room, maybe to a pawn shop. Next step, get a desk and work table, some filing cabinets and organizer bins, and build myself a PC since I can't seem to own a laptop for more than 6 months without completely trashing it. If I had the cash I'd get a Panasonic Toughbook, the REALLY REALLY tough model that they market to field archaeologists and construction workers.

Because I need to be spending money right now on gadgets. Brilliant plan.

I get frustrated sometimes by how many things I want to do at once. All of these projects dancing around in my head vie for primacy in my current grand scheme model, from organizing a badass theme camp for flipside to building a back deck add-on to my house, or looking at local lots for sale to find a good spot to build a green friendly eco-apartment complex, or learning to sew, or picking up another martial art... going on vacations to see friends in other states... writing a musical... it just goes on and on. I can never just pin one down and stick to it, and school is fucking me up royally with being able to focus on anything BUT school.

Which brings me back to fundamentals. Fixing my shitty study habits. I figure if I can effectively organize my study environment and processes I'll end up with less stress regarding school, because I'll have my shit together, and won't always be worrying about some paper I'm procrastinating until the week it's due.

That's the hope, anyway. Maybe I've had what counselors call a false-epiphany, and I'm rocketing toward what seems to me a brilliant attack on my lazy habits, but in actuality is just one more way to waste my time on some ridiculous minutia of my day-to-day.

Anyway-

Beep, the little black cat that I rescued from my backyard a year ago, has now been missing for four days. I think someone else is feeding him, because he was gone for two days before this, and then left after staying here one day, and has not yet return. Tomorrow I'll hit the pound up and flier my neighbors doors. I'm being naivé and optimistic right now, and traveling happily along on my assumption that he's fine and just misplaced. When I get him back we're going to have a nice car ride to the vet, and he's going to get fucking lowjacked.

Maybe I'll pee on him for good measure. Nobody will want to play with a smelly pee cat. Romulus (other cat, half bengal) has been moping about, desperately groping at any opportunity for physical attention. I think he misses his sparring partner. I really hope Beep's okay. I don't think I could handle losing him right now, especially after all the back and forth with Meredith about how we were going to share them post-breakup.

In other news, I have five modeling shifts this week, because one of the art teachers is a fellow burner, and he sent glowing reports and requests for further work with me to our modeling coordinator. Which rocks, because now I get to make more money AND model for a cool class with an instructor who knows what gift cultures and radical-self-reliance are. Plus, the music he plays is always on point.

I think I've dumped enough meaningless shit on here for today.

Bam.

-Sean

Electroclash: Use with Caution

As a DJ of ten years now, I've started to notice a disturbing trend in tracks I'm perusing for purchase. More and more I see download sites picking up these tracks that combine one looping lyric, chopped to shit and layered over blaring synths and tinny splash effects.

I hate to bring up the "it sounds repetitive" argument, here, but this goes beyond repetitive. This shit is redundant. One track after another, the same hard hitting descending or ascending synth patterns bores me to tears, and the DJ mixes that get put out featuring nothing but blasé electro with the occasional dance-rock song are just fucking killing me.

Guys, there's like 80 or 90 various sub-genres of dance music now. Mix it up a bit. Surprise us. One of the happiest things I bid adieu to from the 90's was genre-whoring. "Oh, I'm a hard house DJ, I ONLY play hard house, I can name every other DJ and producer in the market pushing this sound, blah blah blah..." Yeah, that. Happy to see it go.

So let's not start limiting ourselves again, shall we? I know if you really want me to freak my shit on the dancefloor layering Huey Lewis and the News over some dope prog beat is going to do it far better than something that has all the musical excitement of an AC unit turning on and off.

-Sean