The Devil Is In The Details

Riding on the bike path near Seward park on Lake Washington, I hear an Asian girl talking on the phone on the grass. She is  complaining about a man.

“I just want a man who is not so big. More thin....”

I think, “hey!, I fit that description.” My gut is telling me to go talk to her. I pause for a second wondering if this is going to be creepy, but my gut is giving me the all systems go. I approach her, still on the phone. 

“I heard you are not happy with your boyfriend?” I say

“Can you hold on just a second?” She says into her phone. She presses some mute button on her phone. 

“Yeah, I want a guy who is more active. I like riding bikes and playing tennis. I can’t get him to do any of these things. And I don’t find him that attractive. But he has been a friend before we were dating.” She says. 

“I think you should find somebody better.” I say “I like biking and tennis.”

“Oh, you do?” she says. “I’m talking to my good friend right now. I’ll give you my number. Send me a text with your first and last name.”

“Sure” I say, taking out my phone.

“My names Jessica. What’s your name?” she says

“It’s Luke” I say. She reads me her number and I input it into my phone.

“Let’s go biking sometime.” she says. Next to her, I notice the shiny white road bike for the first time.

“Great” I say

I bike off happy. I think about her as I ride my bike. About 15 minutes later, I stop and text her

Me: [Full Name] Let's go biking :) Wed or Thur is good for me this week

Her: Who is this??? 

Me: Uhh...we just met 15 or 20 min ago. I was the guy on the bike.... 

Her: Umm??? Wtf are you talking about??? I'm a 17 year old girl sitting at home playing call of duty... She gave you the wrong number. I have no idea who u are 
Me: No shit! Lol 

Her: Umm... Yeah... Sorry about your loss. 

Me: Yeah, that sucks. She was dope 

Her: I understand. But hey... At least you didn't get the rejection hotline right? Kinda immature I know but sometimes people are like that 

Me: What's rejection hotline? Anyway, enjoy call of duty :) 

Her: Its a prank calling system. I will! 

Me: Haha What kind of girl plays call of duty? 

Her: Umm an awesome one 

Me: Good answer 

Her: Well also, a girl that was raised with boys. 

Me: I was a boy raised with girls. Not once did I play barbie 

Her: That's okay. Neither did I 

Me: But I get ur point - I was just teasing 

Her: Oh okay :p 

Me: Shouldn't u be doing homework? 

Her: Not in school anymore 

Me: At 17? Genius or drop out or both? Both. 

Her: I had to transfer school districts and they didn't keep any of my credits which made me two years behind. So I decided to get my GED and go to college Me: Not a bad deal. HS sucks 

Her: I agree. And I'd rather be in college doing hands on work anyways 

Me: Hands on work? Like on cars or something? 

Her: Yeah! Cars :) mechanic :) 

Me: Gee how did I know? ;) 

Her: I honestly have no idea. 

Me: The devil is in the details 

Conflict in Ballard Commons Park

On Friday at 20:30, piercing the calm air, a chilling, murderous voice rings out. 

“Get back here!”

There is a pause. Silence. Then the voice screams again. 

“G-E-T BACK HERE, NOW!” 

A big, muscular Rottweiler runs through the intersection from Ballard public library to the adjoining park, glancing back briefly, its legs never breaking stride. 

On a stroll in the park, a man and his two kids walk towards the direction of the dog. The man is quite big and muscular. The dog, looks at the threesome, and heads directly towards them. On seeing the dog, unleashed, coming towards his children, the man calls out to no one in particular “This dog should be on a leash.” His voice is firm, but slightly high, giving him an unnatural feminine tone.

The owner of the dog comes into view. His face angry with emotion. Seeing the dogs owner, the man with the children repeats his paternal warning

“This dog should be on a leash.”

“He will be punished!” 

The dog goes to the far side of the park and crouches under a bench at the rim of the skate pool. Sitting on the bench are 5 high school and junior high school kids. The owner approaches the bench. 

“You don’t walk away from me! I’m the one that feeds you! You aren’t anything without me. I’m going to kill you, the next time you do that to me!” The kids do not get up from the bench, but they slightly lean away as the man reaches under and grabs the dog’s collar, pulling him out from his hiding spot. 

The man tugs the dog out from the skate-pool bench, down to the street, in the direction of the library. He cannot contain his anger. On the sidewalk of 57th street in front of the kids in the skatepark, the man yanks the dog by collar. The dog sinks to the ground instinctively, waiting for his beating. The owner yells “You motherfucker, you just try that again!”, and then he spits on his dog. 

A 20 something year old kid, baseball cap with bill unbent, small tattoos on his arms, impulsively hollers angrily at the dog owner 

“Don’t spit on your dog, man!” 

“Shut up kid. He’s my dog!”

“Don’t give you the right to spit on your dog!”

“I can do whatever fuck I want with him”

“If you can’t take care of him, give him to me, man.”

“Shut up you little shit!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You shouldn’t be treating your dog that way”

“I’ll rip you fucking head off!”

“I’m right here.” 

“FUCK YOU! I can do whatever the fuck I want!”

The dog owner moves out of earshot. The skateboarder looks calm. He says to a friend “You can’t treat a dog like that!” 

“Yeah.” his friend replies in support.

Other kids look in awe at their new hero. One kid remarks in a gossipy voice “That guy threatened us. He said he had a gun in his car! He said he would come back!”

The next day, at 13:30, there are kids with spray paint cans in their hands in the skate pool. Fresh, bright orange spray paint on the opposite side of the pool reads in neat print “Fuck the law. Fuck the system.” A shout comes from the balcony above the QFC “Quit painting the park, or I’m calling the cops!” The kids panic and decide to flee.    

Wednesday, 9:00AM, there are two cleaners at the skate park, which is now cordoned off with red caution tape. There are brooms in the pool. Two men stand talking about the problem with the skateboard park. One man, in his 40s, with John Lennon glasses, wants to get pictures as evidence to use for prosecution - his end goal would be for the perpetrators to clean the skate park. The other man, African American, with long dreads, also in his 40s, thinks that this mess needs to be cleaned up sooner. “As soon as one person sees it, other kids start doing it too.” He reckons that in the last 5 years, this park has been cleaned close to a hundred times. 

A letter to Clint Eastwood

Dear Clint,

I first saw you when I was about 5 and my dad had on a western. You wore a scowl as you stared down your foe with unflinching eyes - as if you knew what was coming - on some dirt caked road in a deserted town. From a 5 year olds eyes, I remember everything being in shades of brown. Beyond your good looks and ability to administer justice, even when the law failed, I’ve become most inspired by the movies you direct; Gran Torino, Million Dollar Baby, and Mystic River are some of my favorites. I’ve read you produce movies that are on-time and under budget. You focus on storyline, not fancy effects. You complete filming scenes in the first several takes, when the actors are fresh. Your biography reads to me like a very humble guy. 

I want to be humble, too. The problem is, I don’t really have anything to be humble about. I’m 31 now. When I was in high school, I thought my goal was to go to college then get a job and move into a respectable position. I went to CU Boulder for a business degree. I found my first “real” job as a warehouse manager in a big shipping company. There were some unforeseen events too: Namely that I fell in love with being in a foreign country, where no one has any social expectations of me and I fell in love with a girl that I couldn’t marry, but couldn’t break up with either, because I loved her. Both of these events changed my trajectory and altered my life. I spent the last 7 years in Japan.

 I am back in Seattle now. I learned that what I thought I wanted, wasn’t what I really wanted. I thought that I was being practical by getting a degree in business and then going after a job in a respectable company. I ended up being really unhappy and working really hard just to stay afloat in a job I didn’t care about. 

With all my unhappiness, I began reexamining myself. Asking family and friends what they remember of me. I can remember wanting to be unique, loving stories, and being really introverted. I was also very late in developing. When I was in high School, I remember being a senior and everyone was shaving but me and a couple other boys. Being older, I see people going through their life questioning phases, as I am doing now, but they seem 5 to 10 years younger than me.

Now I want to do something creative and intuitive. I am thinking about going into film, acting, directing, or writing. I don’t really know what I am going to be good at, but I think that I would like to capture people as they really are. What drives them, what they don’t show other people. I guess, sort of like a biography. 

It has been my goal to write you for a long time, because you seem to be creating movies that capture insight into life. I really admire this and want to do something like you one day. I think that when we can see something done, it makes other people realize what they are capable of too. 

Thank you for reading. If you can spare some time, any comment from you. 

Sincerely,

Derr

Moving In With A Gay Man, Part II

At around 6:30pm, I come home from Seward park; my second day renting my room. As I arrive, I notice that my landlord/roommate Jim’s car is parked outside. I walk in, take a piss, notice that my roommate’s door is shut, and go into my room, adjacent to his. After about 5 minutes, I hear exactly what I feared: the panting of lovemaking coming from Jim’s room. My eyes widen, my sight narrows, and time slows down. I want to get out of here. I force myself to calm down, and accept reality. As calmly as I can, I grab my laptop and go to a nearby cafe.

In Tokyo, I had paper thin walls and neighbors passing by my apartment often. In the throws of passion, a girl I was giving pleasure to would often start uncontrollably screaming in pleasure. When they were really loud, I would tell her to be quite, giving her something to muffle the sound. Usually I would play music, too. But I never stopped out of concern for the discomfort of my neighbors. Even worse, I imagine my neighbors hearing added pride to my ego. When I look back on the sounds coming out of Jim’s room, I first think of the unique sound of a man screaming instead of a woman. Then my minds blanks that out and solving the dilemma; the unstoppable nature of their love making my frustration that even though I understand the mechanics of it, I still cannot forgive what I heard.

I return at 8:30, my Jim’s car is gone. My other roommate, Johnny, who is the older brother of Jim, comes home. He comes in and I offer him a beer. He accepts. He starts letting out what’s on his mind: he got in a fight with his girlfriend Sheila last night. She is an older, blond girl, with a four year old son named Coulton. Johnny explains that they fought  when Coulton woke up in the middle of the night, crying that he wanted to go home, and that he wanted his teddy bear. Johnny tells me about her story: she just moved out of her house on Capitol Hill. She had one son with a man, but it didn’t work out. Then she met another man and had a second son, Coulton. This relationship went sour recently. He left and she kept the house, but was unable to pay the bills. So she sold the house and is now homeless. Johnny met her several months ago. He says that he is not ready to be this deep in her problems because they haven’t been dating that long. He later mentions that he just got out of a six year relationship with another woman. Johnny tells me stories about Jim, about his family, and about his last girlfriend. He plays in a band as a lead singer and seems to date a lot of women. He has stylish Levi’s jeans on - he said he just bought them today. He says everything is crazy right now because Jim has “a friend” visiting him and Sheila is temporarily staying with him. He says Sheila doesn’t want to come over when Jim and his friend are here. When I tell Johnny that I am sleeping on a foam Mattress, he offers his Thermarest to put under it. I accept and he leaves it outside my door that night. He offers to help me with picking up a mattress on Thursday after three if I need the help. I was thankful for someone willing to help me in my new home. 

In the morning, I wait for Jim to go to work and I leave my room afterwards. I start eating a bowl of cereal. I find his friend, Francois, the lover from the night before, in the dining room next to the kitchen. I say hello to him and he comes into the kitchen to talk. I want to be nice to him, but I can’t. Not after the day before. I am cold to him. He mentions a box of cereal left on the kitchen counter, and tells me that there is an empty cupboard above the fridge that I can store it in. I tell him it is not mine and show him my cereal in the cupboard given to me by Jim. He mentions that it must be Jim’s older brothers’ then. 

Up comes Sheila from Johnny’s room - Johnny is gone. She is carrying beef jerky. She says hi to me, and I warmly greet her from the awkwardness of talking to Francois. She says hi back and then Francois says hi. I feel ignored while they talk and she makes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Coulton’s field trip to Pike Place Market. I go to the bathroom and come back, they are both gone from the kitchen but there is piece of jerky laying on top of a magazine. I leave to get shampoo and come back around noon to fix lunch. The bread board in the kitchen is littered with crumbs, peanut butter, and jam. I go sit on the porch. A man wearing work clothes comes in and starts throwing plastic tubing and plywood around the front yard. He doesn’t see me. He looks angry or frustrated. I again want to run off. Seeing him throwing things like that makes me feel uneasy. But again, I force myself to remain calm. I lower the volume on the movie I had wanted to finish up from last night during my lunch. He looks up “oh! sorry, I didn’t see you. I’m the carpenter working on the fence” I feel awkward, having witnessed him throwing stuff around the yard. “It’s a nice looking fence” I say. “Thank you” he says “Is Jim around?” 

I return home from a run in the park at 8:00pm. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to face my roommates. Jim and Francois are on the porch eating a candle lit meal. I say hi and when I do Jim offers me an hors d'oeuvre. It is Avocado on toasted bread and is delicious. Jim asks me if I am getting settled in OK. I don’t know what to say, so I say yes. He asks me if the noise is ok. I panic inside. My brain flashes back to the sounds emanating from his room the day before. I tongue catches in my throat. Jim, seeing my inability to speak, says “like from outside or the neighbors.” I say “yes, everything is fine” I’m faking it, inside I’m not OK. I don’t know how to face the conflict. I wish I did. I make conversation, but I am just putting a veneer of cheer over my discomfort. 

I notice that I have a problem communicating now. I hold back instead of investing in the  relationship. I cannot get myself to talk about him and Francois’s relationship. I don’t want to ask any favors. Because I don’t want to start a relationship while I haven’t cleared up my problems from the night before. The foundation is weak, so I don’t want to build anything on it. This problem of the lovemaking has weakened my foundation with Jim. I make the greeting, but I am uncomfortable building anything more.

Shitting My Pants

Shitting my pants

There are about twenty of us there for happy hour. I ate buta kimuchi at a downtown restaurant in Seattle called Kushi, and had a pint of Olympia. Around 8:30, everyone is leaving and I notice that I really have to go to the bathroom. Stephen, from my group, is asking me if I want to go to GameWorks, to see a video of a fight, presented by the fighter. I give a noncommittal response. Kris, who had texted me about tonights event, tells me he is going with Sarah to go eat “pie” - it does not sound like an invitation. I have said a few good byes already, but I suddenly notice that I have to take a dump, I stop worrying about if I have said all my goodbyes and walk briskly to the toilet. There is a girls and boys bathroom. A girl from my group is waiting outside. I ask if they are both occupied. “Yes, there is a guy in the mens and a guy in the women's, too” she says. I wait there. While waiting, two cute Indian girls from our party come for the bathroom, too. Then another guy comes. The guys bathroom opens up and I go in, and take a shit. I unclench my cheeks and everything comes out in one load. I spend a few minutes more pushing to empty my bowls. Then, imagining the line of people waiting outside, I wipe my already sore ass, wash my hands and head out, hoping that it doesn’t stink for the next person - I think it does. 

When I open the door, there is no one there. Well, I wish I would have known that. I go outside and Kris and Sarah are outside. I say goodbye and start walking my bike home because my legs are so sore from riding it. Around three blocks from Kushi’s, I get on my bike and ride all the way to ID light rail station. At the station, I can see the stadium nearby all lit up. There is a Seahawks game going on. I decide to go check it out. I bicycle down there circle around the gates of the stadium. A fan offers me his ticket, but I am warned they check to see if the ticket has already been used. I decide I don’t feel like risking it. I head back to light rail. 

I have to take a dump again. I start debating whether it is better to ride my bike home or take the Link to Columbia City and ride home from there. I decide on the Link, because I want to try taking my bike on the light rail. However, after I buy my ticket, my bowls give me a signal that is so strong I stop thinking of making it all the way home and just decide to go find a bathroom. There is a Uwajima market nearby. I get to the entrance and park my bike. Go inside and ask the first clerk I see where the bathroom is.

It is closed.

Really? 

Yeah, it is in the food court, and the food court is closed.

I thank him and go outside and get my bike. I am thinking about riding back to ID, to catch the light rail, but don’t want to give up yet. I see a Shell station across the street. Ride my bike over there. There is no bike rack, so I search around and see a power pole with a diagnal cable attached to the ground. I quickly dismount and chain my bike to it. A bum is at the door opening the door for customers. He opens the door for me and then asks me if I have any change. I rush inside muttering a “no” but not slowing down. I search for the bathroom, find it and walk in a run towards it. It has a yellow caution sign that says out of order. My frustration starts to turn to anger. I calm myself down and resolve to get home. 

I take the light rail to Columbia CIty. My stomach gives me no grief, till I reach my stop. When I get up, it hits me again, this time harder than before. I get off and bike for home. At the hill about 5 minutes before my place, my stomach tells me it can’t make it anymore. There is loud music from a live concert coming from near an expresso bar. I chain my bike to a bike rack, don’t bother to turn off my bike lights and run into the expresso bar. The concert is from inside the bar. There are lots of people. I ask where the bathroom is fearing they will want me to order. The lady points to the bathroom nearby. I make a mental note to order a drink after I go to the bathroom. Because there is a concert going on in the bar, there is a couple sitting directly in front of the bathroom door. I ask them to let me in to the bar. By the time I am getting the door to the bathroom, I cannot hold my bowels anymore and I feel shit come between my cheeks. I get into the bathroom, close and lock the door. Pull my pants down and notice a thin streak of shit lying in the bottom of my underwear. I don’t care. I happily take a shit. Half way through the shit, the band finishes. Again, I worry about people lining up outside the door. A minute later, there is a pull of the door and the catch of the lock, keeping the door from being opened. I hurry up and finish. I thought about going commando - washing my underwear off in the sink and putting it in my pocket. But I abandon that idea. I use some TP to wipe the shit off my underwear and pull up my pants, wash my hands. I briefly smell the air, hopping that it does not smell too bad and head out the door. There are two young women waiting outside. I smile. With shit stains on my underwear and fear of my stomach acting up again, I decide to go straight home. 

I walk out to my bike and the front light is turned off. I chuckle to myself. Two women walk by me on the sidewalk. I say a male hello to female hello, doing my best “Hey ladies!” voice. They respond in unison, in their female to male voice “Hellloo”, real friendly. I feel good, but then dissapointed because I don’t have anymore banter to say, realize that my underwear are shit stained, and get on my bike and ride home.

Moving In With A Gay Man Part I

I decided on a place. It is in Columbia city/Seward park area. I thought that I would get a place in Fremont, Capitol Hill, or Ballard. That is what I thought. I wrote people everyday. I would check my email often. By the minute. Yesterday, I went over to Seward park area to look at this guy's house. The Craigslist ad said: 1 gay guy, 1 straight guy, sunny room. I replied: I'm straight, but gay friendly. 

I talked to the owner. When I met him, I knew right away he was the gay one. I went into his home, it was a little awkward for me at first. Because I felt this weird tension. But I got over it. 

The house is being remodeled. It is very stylish. He told me that he had traveled in South East Asia when explaining his inspiration for the place. Cool paintings on the wall; There is this photo in his living room of a prison in Spain (Barcelona perhaps?) that has bright graffiti all over concrete walls. The building was torn down right after the picture was taken.

His brother, came upstairs when I was being given the tour. He lives in the basement. He is amiable. He does a cater business and plays in a Honki Tonk Band. He gave me a business card for his live show at St. Cloud's, a bar, and invited me to come that night - I was exhausted and didn't go; I don't like honky tonk, I think.  He and his brother are both in their 40's.

In the basement, across from the washer dryer, there are pictures of nude men, with huge cocks. The owner told me "don't be alarmed." I was alarmed - and uncomfortable. But I got over it. He told me it was from some event from Capitol Hill. He collected them. The brother told me that he was really embarrassed when a plumber came to repair something and he had to show the guy to the laundry room where the repair was needed.

The bedroom I will be renting is with nice big windows looking down a street on a slight hill. Lots of light. Beautiful size. It is right next to the owners room - I wonder about that. There is a kitchen with what I think was Le Creuset cookware - French pots and pans that are very nice, I hear. There is a big Labrador in the kitchen. He is a year old. He seems to be tearing up the linoleum floor. 

The guy was really nice from what I saw. He likes fashion. goes to the gym, is reading "The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets Nest", and is designing his own home. He explained the lease to me in easy clear terms. When I was leaving he took the dog out for a walk; I noticed how his neighbor, a lady in her 50's said hello to him and they had a nice friendly chat. 

The rent is month to month, $590 including utilities and wi-fi. 

I was told by my current roommates that I had to move out by this Saturday. That it was nothing personal - I didn't take any.

Spending the weekend at my sisters. Moving into my new place Monday.