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Violet: It turns out we’re right by one of the best places in Hawaii to go sea kayaking with dolphins.
me: Ya, and sharks.
Violet: No, they don’t allow the sharks to kayak.
I can’t stop watching this video. Now, I know my inner fag is grinning like a little girl because of the show tune but the whole thing is making my tum feel like popcorn is popping. Like maybe I can save the rain forests somehow, maybe I should go to law school, maybe I am the best rollerblader ever who hasn’t tried rollerblading yet and it’s not just a reoccurring dream, maybe I should send my choreographed ‘CHER the Musical’ idea to Cher (that now most definitely has a leading role for Ms. Susan Boyle). Maybe you’ve seen this already? Does that really matter? Watch. this. video.
For over a week now I haven’t been able to find that little cord that connects my ipod to the computer. I have some new music that I am really excited about and a dead ipod and this disconnect has been driving me crazy. I have spent several hours looking in the same 10 places and each time – disappointment. It’s turned into that fridge scenario: When you’re hungry and you just keep opening the refrigerator door as if ‘poof’ a steaming plate of spaghetti will magically appear.
This morning in our mad dash to get ready for our respective jobs I busted into the bathroom, where Violet was, and said,”Sorry, Violet! But I just had a vision! I think that the connector thingy might be in this cabnit here…”
I shuffled through a few things on the top shelf and voila, there it was! (Why was it there? Don’t know and not the point!). I held it up, like the sword that had just been removed from the stone, and made applause noises for myself as I bowed.
“See, I told you Violet! I had a VISION.”
Looking a bit unimpressed she says, “Um, I think that is called a memory, but whatever, good for you. Now, get out of here, please.
Ah, sweet victory. Sweet victory indeed.
I had just fallen asleep when I heard Violet, who was obviously thinking with her eyes closed, start to mumble:
V: “In my head, green trident and celery are the same thing.”
me: “…Um… what?”
V: “I guess that’s because of Texas though.”
me: “Right, of course.”
V: “Even with the foil.”
me: “Ok, Violet, goodnight.”
V: “…Hehlerrrvyuherrrrrrr.”
me: “I love you too, darlin’. Sweet dreams.”
I hadn’t considered not having the internets, any of them, for our entire trip to Boston. It was as strange as it was refreshing. Do you even remember when you didn’t check your email every 10 minutes? Every two minutes? Or waiting until you got home to see who called? I sure didn’t.
Our trip, in a nutshell for now, seeing as my being absent from work was not easy on the folks here and I am quite busy (i.e. job security):
- The red-eye flight over was as miserable as I had thought it would be. However, sitting next to a swarm of fresh-outta-boot-camp-marines on the way home was almost as unpleasant. Minus the cute blond marine from Houston that sat right next to me. He was very sweet and answered my many, many vodka tonic(s) induced questions with the grace of a southern gentleman. Everything was answering with a “yes, ma’am” or “no ma’am”. I’m not sure how I feel about ma’am, but it was sweet, none the less.
- Boston was busy. Very, very busy. But nice. But Seattle is better. It fits me. I just like knowing that my yogurt is guaranteed to have more milk than corn syrup without reading the labels, but that is just me.
- The itty, bitty, very gay, very Jewish, flight attendant, Sparky, will get his own post.
- We made it to P-town, after an all day venture that will also probably get its own post. The trailer would include: getting hit with exploding cans of coke, grilled cheese and tomato with no cheese and no tomato, little bugs drinking more of the “water” than we did, and meeting !!Cher!! – Well, a drag version, but holy shit, did she do Cher almost better than Cher! Even Cher said so. My heart was all a flutter.
This is all for now. But I did miss you, internets, every single one of you.
I bought it. I registered the domain name justlikejessejames(dot)com. Why, you ask? I don’t know. None the less it’s mine… Aaaaaaall miiiine.
Try it. Type in justlikejessejames(dot)com up top there 
and watch, you’ll end up right back here. Magic, I tell you. Simply magic.
I don’t remember where or exactly when I heard this story, but I was young when I did and it stuck. For several reasons, it has been stuck in my head all week. I would love to sit all of the people I work with down on little nap-mats, give them a little organic juice pack to suck on and have story time with this little gem.
______________
During lunch, two construction workers always sit together on one of the rafters and eat together. As they open their lunches it always goes the same way. One opens his lunchbox and finds a fresh, crisp sandwich, a bag of chips, his favorite drink and a dessert of some sort, usually a chocolate chip cookie.
The other opens his lunch sack to find a squashed peanut butter and jelly sandwich on soggy white bread and that’s it. Every day, Monday through Friday, he seems totally surprised and disappointed to find the same thing and proceeds to start his lunch hour moaning, “Man, peanut butter and jelly again!?! I don’t even like peanut butter.”
One day the guy with the awesome lunch listens patiently to the other guy complain and finally asks, “Dude, why don’t you just ask your wife to make you something different?”
The guy holding his lifeless sandwich says, “Wife? No, my wife doesn’t make my lunch. I make my own sandwiches.”
A very sick dog, a few slashed tires, a dysfunctional bus system and way too much going on at work has Jesse far, far away from blogland. Apologies. Back next week.
Dear California,
I apologize for being a few days late in my letter. It is a bad habit of mine to always be a little delayed with thank you notes.
Regardless, thank you, California. I can’t tell you how wonderful it felt to wake up next to my partner and hear the news that another state stood up to refocus and recenter definitions of equality despite the lack of support from most of your neighbors. I wish you all the best in the coming months and hope that your brilliantly beautiful decision is met by nothing other than love and wedding mixes with Cher songs. Like Massachusetts, you are a hero of a state to me. Hopefully, the other 48 are listening.
Thanks again.
love,
jesse james
p.s. Getting married in Cali? Getting married anywhere? Married already? Send me photos or info or whathaveyou to jessejamesblog@gmail.com and I’ll post ya
I read Dooce daily. It is a successful, world famous blog for a reason. Heather, the author, is incredibly open and frank about her life and adds an edgy, witty spin on everything she writes about. Last week she posted some of the hate mail she’s received and her responses to a few. The comments she received were drenched in hate. Their content had no substance, just cheap and dirty shots targeted directly at her. And it wasn’t that these strangers had such angry hateful things to say to another human being that surprised me, no, I was surprised at how acts of hate don’t surprise me.
I guess after thirty one years of hearing about hate, watching hate on television, seeing it happen to strangers, friends, family, experiencing it, carrying hate around, dreaming about it, reading stories about it, talking about hate, using it, feeling hate, and assuming that hate has happened, happens, and will continue to happen, like how Tuesday keeps happening, has sanded down what I hope was once my natural ability to feel surprised, at least, when hate happens.
I was talking to one of my very favorite people, Sinclair, about Dooce’s hate-mail and we were trying to decide if the people that throw around this angry anonymous hate are aware of their impact? Two weeks ago Sinclair posted an ad on her blog that she ran into on Craigslist that some angry anonymous girl had written. Should you chose to read it, I warn you: it is a long and hateful rant and it got me. I was surprised. And honestly it felt refreshing to be shocked and hurt by the hate I was reading. I took some time to respond to this girls post (also posted on Sugarbutch).
So, where do I go with all of this? I have no desire to become a pacifist, and walking around with a bucket over my head won’t work for obvious reasons. So, my experiment for all of this week, starting right now, is this: I will not participate in or with hate. I am removing the word h*** from my vocabulary and when it tries to hit or grow inside or around me I will first try to defuse it back into its natural state of ‘hurt’. If hurt presents itself to me I will engage, if h*** refuses to disarm I will simply walk away.
I will keep you posted on how this goes. If you’d like to join me in this weeks mission let me know how it goes for you. I can imagine that this mission would look very different person to person and that the challenge level would differ as well. It may be that for some, avoiding h*** from the outside could be impossible, so what do you do about that? If you join me in this I would love to hear about your techniques and experiences trying to go seven days without… ah! not even gonna say it.
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