Nakedmanatee's Blog o' Mirth.

In which one man, through a series of holistic misadventures, attempts to break the barriers that hinder communication using only a computer, a handful of Wheat Thins--sun-dried tomato flavor, and the Talking Heads CD, "More Songs About Buildings and Food." Guest starring Rita Moreno as herself.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

God Only Knows What I'd Be Without You


Thanksgiving is coming. Yes, yes it is. Which means that in the blogosphere everybody is going to get down wit the funky lists of things they are grateful for. Well, shee-it, I feel grateful NOW, so I’m going to beat the mad rush.

I am grateful & abundant. I am thankful for:

Love (the energy that fuels me)

Pain (that constant teacher, pushing me forward)

Peach Snapple (Georgia in a bottle.)

Curiosity (It hasn’t killed me yet.)

Family (Cause it’s fun to see what I’ve done with the same DNA.)

Friends & Lovers (I’m grateful for the time you’ve spent with me on the journey.)

My children (for teaching me how to be a parent and reminding me that I was once a kid too.)

Bloggy friends (Who remind me that friendship can overlap time zones.)

My bloggy enemies (For plotting against me, and therefore giving me a story arc.)

Emma Thompson (I wish she was narrating my life.)

Music (Because notes are words that can only be named by the heart.)

Bad television (Makes it easier to do homework.)

Really embarrassing situations (Cause later, after the humiliation dies down, you’ll not only be a hero for surviving it, you’ll have a great story to tell.)

Travel (Because to see the world is to realize how similar we all are.)

Gravity (Keeps us from falling onto the moon.)

The ground (Keeps us from sinking into the molten lava.)

Crayons (If world leaders took 30 minutes to color in coloring books each day, I have a feeling the world would be a much better place.)

Kraft Macaroni and Cheese (It’s the cheesiest.)

Harrison Ford (For being my generation’s John Wayne.)

Emotional scars (Because I earned them & they are mine.)

Impromptu Haiku (the best kind)

Ben and Jerry's (Because ice cream tastes better when the flavors have cool names.)

Curb Your Enthusiasm (It’s like a martini with a prozac chaser.)

Garrison Keillor (Because that fatherly, comforting voice is steady and loving in a way that my own father’s voice wasn’t.)

My dad (For liking books, voting for Clinton, and showing me that we are all flawed human beings.)

The shadows created by candlelight (A different sort of illumination occurs.)

A Different World (Because that Lisa Bonet was all kinds of hot.)

Roger Ebert (Who proves that you can be critical without being an asshole.)

Yarn (Important to humans and cats.)

Coffee (I like to flavor my sugar and cream with it.)

Jumping off metaphorical cliffs (It’s worth the risk. Always.)

iTunes (It’s nice to know that if I want to find old episodes of Knight Rider or that “Jackie Blue” song, I can.)

Climbing stairs (Sometimes it feels good to be out of breath.)

Cold, crisp nights where the stars are sharp and clear (To remember what awe is.)

The ocean on a black night, with a roar that goes on forever (To understand what sublimity is.)

TCM (Because Paul Simon was wrong…Everything looks better in black and white.)

Iced tea (Because it's the world's most perfect drink.)

Burning cds for friends (Because nothing says I care about you more than making you listen to my favorite Rita Coolidge songs.)

Myrna Loy as Nora Charles in The Thin Man (Sigh… I wish I was Nick. Nora’s irresistible when she wrinkles her nose.)

The 4 Kisses (The “I like you” kiss, the “I love you” kiss, the “The Oh My” kiss, and Hershey’s Kisses. If you get all 4 in one night, treasure it!)

Books (To help me find the words I’ve been looking for.)

Fallen leaves (To remind me that even death has a strange beauty and that "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of your philosophy.")

A glass of red wine (So I can release stress and pretend to be French.)

Floss Picks (Do you really want to go back to the old floss? I didn’t think so.)

Different fonts (Helping to keep life interesting.)

And last but not least, I'm grateful to *YOU* for reading this. Yes, YOU! :)

Friday, November 10, 2006

I Think My iPod is Gay

This was inspired by a comic routine by Mark Day entitled "I Think My Tivo is Gay"…very funny stuff. I lost the link but if you got to youtube and put Mark Day and gay Tivo into the search engine you'll find it.

This is a warning to any concerned mothers, nuns, or conservative political readers who may be reading this. (This blog hits all those demographics, I assure you. Nuns LOVE me.) In this post I’m going to be using what the Catholics call “naughty” words. They are words that we’ve all heard and said before, say when you lock your keys inside your car or somebody speeds up to keep you from getting in the lane you want even though you’ve had your mother fucking blinker on for 2 fucking miles and you'd THINK that that ASSHOLE would have the common decency to--. Ahem. You see what I mean. But why stop there? I’m also going to be discussing sexual acts, which might be awkward for some. I completely understand. We live in sensitive times and any reference to sex has a corrupting effect. If you talk about sex, you will be become a degenerate whore compelled to either stick your most sensitive body parts into places where it wouldn’t seem like it would be a good place to stick them or you will be compelled to stick objects, organic or otherwise into any convenient opening located on your body. Strangely enough, if done right, this will cause another person to magically grow inside women, until it gets large enough to be expelled out their vaginas. Sounds unlikely, I know. At any rate, this is disgusting and people quite naturally would prefer to discuss more pleasant things like terrorism and supply-side economics. If this does bother you, I have a solution. Whenever I talk about missionary style sex, i.e., man on woman lovin’, replace the word “fucking” with “Doin’ the dishes.” When I talk about anal sex, replace any terms that offend you with “Listening to George Michael.” When I talk about masturbation, replace any offensive terms with “Offending God.” As in, “Don’t come in! I’m offending God!” This may seem rather silly, but it’s no laughing matter. Without euphemisms, there is no way red staters could reproduce.

I live in Idaho, which has been called the most Republican state in the nation. In fact, we just voted to amend the state constitution to ban gay marriage. I mean, it’s already banned. This is like a double-ban. It sends a message to liberal states like California, New York, and Oregon. We hate butt-fucking. Reaaaallllllllly. We don’t like guys doing it. And we certainly don’t want Californians to think that we, as a state, like things shoved up our ass. Cause we see the way you’ve been looking up at us, California. And we feel strangely vulnerable that you’re underneath us and we're not wearing any pants. I mean, we can *trust* Utah, but you guys? So this constitutional amendment is like a big ol’ butt-plug… a chastity butt-plug to keep us safe from those San Franciscans. Ha-hah! Your move, sodomites! Why don't you just keep on spooning with Nevada!

I mean, isn’t that what it really comes down to? Why is there such a fear of gays? It’s gotta be the ass. We are very protective of our asses. We remember “Deliverance” and we, much like Ned Beatty, do not want to “squeal like a pig.” But it seems like an overreaction. Like comedian Bill Maher says, it’s all a matter of taste, and should we legislate taste? I might be disgusted if you want to play “Congressman and pageboy” in the privacy of your own home, but I’m not going to try and pass laws to stop you. (Unless we are talking about an ACTUAL Congressman and pageboy. Wait till they’re legal, Congressman, wait till they are legal.) In fact, I think it is kind of creepy how we are overly focused on what other people are doing in their bedrooms. It's become a legislative obssession. Psychologically speaking, I think Freud might have a lot to say about this.

Now I’m straight, but I love gay culture. I think the gays (and I love to refer to them as “the gays”) have much better taste than the straights do. I’ve often said I’d be gay if wasn’t for the whole man-on-man thing. Frankly, I find men disgusting. I don’t see why anyone, male or female would be interested in having a heaving sack of meat grunting on top of you for, oh, say two minutes. (I’m not describing myself by the way. I last a lot longer than that. 4, maybe 4.5… give me some credit!) Women at least are soft and curvy. There is a poetry about them. Men are more like VCR instruction manuals. To read us you go from step 1 to step 2 to step 3 and even then you can rarely get us to work.

Anyways, living in Idaho, I recognize a kind of kinship with the gays. They are outsiders. So am I. They are persecuted by the government. I can’t prove it, but so am I. They have a strange fascination with Cher. Ummm… yeah… that’s my problem. I think my iPod is gay. If a member of the Idaho legislature were to peruse my playlists they would find some rather damning evidence. Oh sure, on the surface there are plenty of macho, aggressive, testosterone-laden paeans evocative of heterosexual glory. That Papa Roach song about wanting to mutiliate yourself? Oh yeah. That’s on there. (What is more macho than having a knife fight with YOURSELF? Hmmm?) And then there’s that James Blunt song “Beautiful.” Now that’s macho! He basically follows a woman around on a subway that he finds attractive. He spends the whole song leering at her, even though she obviously has a boyfriend, and then he creepily announces that “he has a plan.” Obviously that plan involves “Listening to George Michael” with her. And then, if that’s not macho enough, I have that 50 Cent song where he sings about being in a club and he’s wishing you a happy birthday. You know, 50 Cent, that muscular rapper who doesn’t wear a shirt and has that gleaming shaved chest… Oh dear. That one, perhaps, could get me into trouble.

But the fact of the matter is that I have some rather obviously gay songs. I have to wonder...Was my iPod born gay? Is there some sort of gay switch on the thing? Or did I turn it gay with my music choices? There is the aforementioned Cher. But come on, why should Cher be the province of gays only? Who doesn’t like Cher? Saying you don’t like Cher is like saying: “I don’t like happiness! I want to feel like shit! I’m going to go back to gouging my eyes out while listening to Slipknot. Cause it’s COOL.” Philistines.

There are also an inordinate amount of Pet Shop Boys songs on my iPod. When I first listened to the Pet Shop Boys in the 80’s, I had no idea they were gay, but eventually I started to have my suspicions. Maybe it was the fact that they were producing really good dance music. Or it could have been that a standard line from one of their songs was “Turn on the news and drink some tea/Maybe if you’re with me we’ll do some shopping.” Keep in mind this was before "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy." Or it could have been that they actually said they were gay. That was the final clue.

But perhaps the most damning piece of evidence on my iPod is “It’s Raining Men,” by the Weather Girls. This is the most addictive song in all of pop history. This is a very dangerous song for a straight man to love (especially in Idaho.) When I go to the gym and I’m on the treadmill and this song comes on, I must bite my tongue to keep from singing along. This, I’m sure, has saved me from being killed and/or deported to Canada.

In my car, however, I leave that umbrella behind.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Aaaaand...he's....OUTTA THERE!!!


I'm reminded of a comment Gerald Ford made to the country when Nixon stepped down and the office was transferred to Ford. He said:

"My fellow Americans, our long national nightmare is over."

I'm *reminded* of that. It's not quite accurate in today's climate, but it does indeed feel like we're stirring from a national nightmare. Whether or not we slip back into it or not is another matter, but for the first time in 6 years I feel that elusive quality of HOPE.

Monday, November 06, 2006

Thanks for the meme

As you can see, the blog looks different. It is *under construction*--ha ha-- which means I'm f*cking around and can't get it to look how I want. Links will be back when I get time... In the meantime, check out the awesome links to Google and "Edit-Me." Those rock.

Here is a meme. Try to contain your excitement.

5 Things Guests Ask For at Work

antacid
pillows
directions to Las Vegas
x-rated movies
milk

5 Things I've Read Aloud in the Hotel Lobby at 2 in the Morning

Rime of the Ancient Mariner
Mysteries of Udolpho
Hero and Leander
Flowers of Evil
Proverbs of Hell

5 Hotel Amenities

phones
bedding now with 50% less spiders
state of the art smoke detectors
guests can now swim in the pool for up to 1 hour with no adverse effects
aesthetically pleasing landscape paintings

5 Things I Do Instead of Working

This.
Drink Vodka.
Hide the coffee mugs of co-workers I don't like.
Name the decorative figurines, have conversations with them.
Think about death.

5 Things in the Lobby Fountain

Water.
Rocks.
Plants.
3 coins, each one seeking happiness.
Plastic fruit.

5 Best Prank Phone Calls I've Received

Girls tyring to sound like old ladies.
Long-sustained giggling.
Guy asking me if I had any "weed."
Kid asking me if we have hourly rates, then making porno music sounds.
Guy asking if we had any "rental" swimming trunks for the pool.

5 Books in the Hotel Library

Manufacturing Consent
A biography of Simone DeBeauvoir
Having the Frenchman's Baby
Psychology of the Imagination
Tom Clancy's NetForce: Point of Impact

5 Worst Names for a Cat

Psst
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelly
Jesus
Urkel
Lord Furrybottom

5 Things That Make our Hotel Breakfast Great

Coffee now served in two exciting flavors, hot and tepid.
Fruit Loops kept in seperate container apart from the Raisin Bran.
Waffles in geometrically pleasant circular shape.
No MSG used in scrambled eggs.
Powdered creamer, when sprinkled over the shoulder, wards off evil.

Friday, November 03, 2006

The Lost and Found Manatee


Manatee news story

This was in the news a week or so ago... A manatee was heading north up the Mississippi River... Which, of course, got me to thinking...What was that manatee thinking? What was that manatee hoping to find? So I wrote a lil' fable...and it goes something like this...

"Well something's lost, but something's gained/In living every day..."--Joni Mitchell, "Both Sides, Now"





And so it came to pass that the Manatee awoke one day, drifting in a gentle swell, and feeling not so-swell. He had just had a strange dream filled with strange waters and creatures he had never seen. It filled him with sadness when he looked around him and realized that he was in his familiar waters and not the strange ones. He missed the creatures in his dream.

But dreams fade as you awaken and the sun on the waves sparkled and danced with a trio of dolphins. He poked his head up and began to paddle with his strong tail, headed for the sparkling horizon where the dolphins played. He was a swift swimmer and he quickly caught up with the dolphins who were leaping out of the water and into the air. He laughed and made a honking noise.

“Can I play with you?” the Manatee asked.

The three dolphins, however, were solidly engaged in an elaborate trick that involved two of them leaping in a circular formation, while the third jumped through the ring that they had just made. And during this extraordinarily entertaining trick, one dolphin began singing, while the other two hummed in accompaniment.

“Swimming, swimming, dolphins three… This way and that in Unity… If you ask where we long to be… We’ll tell you we belong to the sea!”

After this, the Manatee clapped his flippers and honked in appreciation. “Bravo, dolphins three!”

One of the dolphins turned and smiled. “Thank you, Manatee.”

“Can I swim with you?” the Manatee asked again.

“Come sister!” the other dolphin cried and the dolphins grouped together and began to swim away.

“Wait!” the Manatee cried.
The friendly dolphin answered. “Silly, you are not a dolphin.”

They disappeared into the rays of the sun and the Manatee turned away. He was sad, but it was true. He looked at his fins and his massive body. Nobody would ever mistake him for a dolphin! His sadness made him feel very heavy and he suddenly had an idea.

“I know!” he said to the water and sky, who were listening. “I will swim. This place is sad and it’s making me heavy. I will swim away from the sadness and find that strange place in my dream!”

The wind rose up against the Manatee’s back and he began to swim with the current. He felt lighter already! From here on out he would leave his troubles behind!

The next few days the Manatee swam, stopping to sleep and nibble grasses and algae. Sometimes the current was too strong and pushed him back. Other times, he caught a swiftly flowing eddy and bounced forward with glee. His dreams were full of hope and promise. And as long as he kept on swimming, the sadness could not take hold. Then, after much swimming, he spotted the river. He had seen the river before and heard the tales of the strange creatures that lived in it, but he had never experienced any of it himself.

Even though he was exhausted, he felt a new-found energy surge through his aching body and he pushed forward to the mouth of the river. It would be tough going at first, but he knew he could do it. He slapped his tail down defiantly and swam.

The day began to fade and so did the Manatee. As twilight loomed, he spotted some tasty looking grasses at the banks of the river and he swam over to them. He tasted them. They were different, but good! He felt happy and proud. He let out a contented sigh.

“Who dat?” a voice called out from the weeds on shore.

The Manatee looked around, trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

“I know you out dere.”

The Manatee squinted and he saw a small lobster-like creature crawl towards him. “Hey, aren’t you a—“

“I’m a crawdaddy, what of it?” the crayfish snapped.

The Manatee clapped his flippers in delight. “I’ve heard of crawdaddies, but I’ve never seen one!”

“And you’re one of them…manatees, right? We don’t see a lot of your kind, you know. Shoot you sure are big.” Crawdaddy backed up. “Sayyy, you aren’t thinking of making me your dinner, now?”

The Manatee snorted air through his nostril. “What? Nooo. I like grasses. Algae is really good. Besides, you look really hard. I bet it’d be like eating a rock.”

Crawdaddy crawled back. “Yeah, break your teeth. You got teeth, don’t ya?”

The Manatee opened his mouth and said “Aahhhh!” There were teeth, but they were back inside of his mouth. They were hard to see.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You a grass-eater. That a load off my mind.” Crawdaddy looked at Manatee quizzically. “Sayy, boy, what are you doing in these parts, anyways? You don’t look like you belong here.”

As the Manatee considered the question, a pang of doubt shot through him and he felt that distant sadness catching up to him. Oh no! It was following him. And he had slowed down enough that it would soon be here! He turned away from Crawdaddy.

“I guess I don’t belong here.” He looked at the trees that were indeed strange. He bobbed in the water and the water was different from what he knew. The grasses tasted different than the grasses before. And YET, one thing had not changed. He had not changed. He was still the same ol’ Manatee and he didn’t fit in here anymore than anywhere else. He blinked away tears and submerged himself.

“Hey! Where you goin’?” Crawdaddy complained. “Sheee---ooot. That boy’s in a heap o’ trouble.”

And he was. For the next three days the trees shook and the wind howled. When Manatee was too tired and his heart got too heavy he lifted his head to the black, black sky and do you know what that sorrowful Manatee did? He howled too. He found the wind and he howled right along with it. The rains came down thick and heavy. The waves became fierce and choppy. And every now and then loud thunder cracked the sky. The Manatee did not flinch. He kept swimming upstream into the eye of the storm. Tree branches and wood flung towards him and Manatee ducked and bobbed and howled in protest.

“I DON’T BELONG!” he sobbed and his tears were heavier than the droplets of rain. He bellowed into the storm and then…the storm bellowed back. Whaaat? He heard a shout back, but it was a sound he had never heard before. It sounded like…Mom…

A chunk of wood flew past him, nearly hitting him in the head. He heard the sound again and then he saw the soaked, battered creature coming toward him, clinging to a piece of wood. It looked terrified and wild and it was howling too. It was a boy. And then that howling boy let go of the wood and the mighty river swallowed him up.

Manatee couldn’t breathe. That thing…that weak thing cried like him. And now that weak thing was gone. He had to do something. He dived underneath and desperately scanned the waters. There was nothing but chunks of rocks and wood tumbling past him, pelting him. No. He can’t be lost. He can’t. Manatee thought about the boy. He doesn’t belong here. This isn’t where he belongs. He turned and then he saw him! The boy! He was tangled up in vines, but the vines were keeping him from being carried further down by the current. Manatee thumped his tail and pushed with his flippers. “Oh, what a fragile creature,” he thought with worry. Manatee used his jaws to grab the boy by the arm and he pulled him free of the vines. Paddling desperately, he swam to the surface. He had to get him to land. This was a land creature, not a water creature. “I’m a water creature,” Manatee thought. “Don’t let this land creature die in the water,” he prayed.

The Manatee felt tired, as if he could no longer swim. “I-I can’t do it…” He felt himself sinking again. Just then the wind sung in his ears. And out of the black, black sky, the brightest light burst through, blinding him. “This way,” the wind sang. With a final surge of energy he rose up, blindly going into the light. A protective calm enveloped him and he felt as fluid as water. All his troubles seemed very small and Manatee pictured all the bad feelings floating away from him down the river. He didn’t think. He just was. He was alive. The boy was alive.

“Paul!” a voice cried. “Paul!” He had reached the shore, but was too tired to move. People came and took the boy. He felt the drops of grateful tears. “This manatee saved him. He saved him.” The voice sounded as tired as he felt. “He saved me,” Manatee thought. Then, he closed his eyes and slept a long, long while.

While he slept, he had the most amazing dreams. He dreamt of his old waters and the dolphins and the old grasses. He dreamt of the new waters he had seen and the Crawdaddy too. He dreamt of the boy, happy, smiling, playing. And still he dreamt on NEW places that only existed in his imagination. And in this dream he belonged not to just one place, but to all places, even the ones that he had never seen.

He woke up. He was in the old waters again. He looked around. He was alone. And yet…he wasn’t. He heard the wind whispering in his ears, the same wind that had always been there. But now, he listened closely. “Manatee…it is I, Sister Wind, who has brought you here.”

The sun glistened in the sky. “Manatee, it is I, Father Sun, who has shown you the way.”

The ocean twirled around and hugged him. “Manatee, it is I, Mother Ocean…And I…have missed you so much.”

Manatee began to weep and his manatee heart swelled with love. And as the wind blew and the sun rose and the ocean swirled, he heard their voices… “You belong. You belong.”

And he did.