For The Love of Blogging

My blog roll, or "Stuff StevieB reads...." section got shorter today. I purged dead blogs left and right. I also disconnected and unlinked with blogs that I haven't read in a while.  I did find that some blogs were hard to unlink.  I had to finally lay to rest "blog crushes" I had carried for quite a while. The ex-Navy corpsman and I were never meant to be anyway. The gay Architect living in London, who only blogged for a year off and on, was never really mine. It is time to move on.

I did; however, begin to seek out and add new blogs to my list. They're not new, just new to me. Fearsome Beard is new to me, and I reconnected with Jeph's Spot blog. There are a host of Gay Mormon blogs out there, and I have decided to find as many as I can to connect.  In These Gay Mormon Shoes has been blogging for years, yet I haven't taken the time to notice. Or, Gay Mormon Southpaw blog. Gay Mormon and a leftie... I'm this bloggers complete target audience.

So 2015 will be about re-igniting my love and connections in the blogging world.  Please get in touch and let me know any blogs out there that I should follow.   

The Semester is Before Us...

Monday is the first day of class for the Spring semester. Oh, how time flyes. This semester will be different, as I will be taking all online classes. So... more time for Steve to hang out at the Starbucks on Colfax Ave. This morning I showed up to School, as I always do, to stand in line to buy my books. I was surprised to see there wasn't a line in front of the book store. I hardly had time to cruise Grindr before heading into the store for my annual book buying spree. My head filled with the thought it always does upon entering my college bookstore. " I should of just rented the book online, and saved all the money the nose-ringed hippy girl is about to rip from my hands."  Yet, every semester I forget, as school exits my little brain as soon as my final assignments are handed in.

Last year's Medieval History class went great online, so I thought, "Why not? More Toffee Nut Lattes for Steve."  This round we're taking  "Literature of Shakespeare" and "American History 355."  The Shakespeare class I'm excited about, as I'm attempting to go for a Diamond Rating in neardom. To pass the competency exam you need to either know computer code, or choose the oral exam of reciting Shakespeare Sonnets. I can't understand computer code, so I am going for the Lit-nerd certification.  The American History class is the one I dread. It's the last history class I will need for my degree, and I have avoided it for years. It's "America! from foundation to reconstruction." I find nothing more boring than this topic; other than the attempt to make that American Sniper movie resemble anything near the truth.

My head was filled with dread as I pontificated over the reading on the topic of rich white people owning poor black people as I walked through the stacks of over-priced books in the bookstore. Then I discovered something odd. My class don't require textbooks. What??? Yep, they're completely on line. 

We will bestow ourselves [to not] read on this book. Clearly an undiscovered country for Steve. 

I left the bookstore with a spring in my step. Looking forward to the new semester. 

Groovy American Gay Bloggers Convention

It just may be official. The Groovy American Gay Bloggers (GAGB) convention has been announced. Gay bloggers from around the pan-Americas, and the world will be descending upon Denver, Colorado over the Valentine's Day holiday. It's going to be huge!!! There are some event details that are still to be announced. The host hotel hasn't been released. But, stay tune for updates. 

The event should be huge... well... as to today there are only two members of the groovy gay blogger group... that I just made up; but, it's going to be huge. As founder and Grand Marshal of this just made up group I'm would like to welcome the other... so far one member of the convention, Patrick from Pac's Pad blog to the convention. 

There is still room in the event, but hurry space is limited. Don't miss out on the 2015 Groovy American Gay Bloggers convention. 

Beard Challenge

You know what's fun? Taking your twenty-three year old boyfriend to the grocery store so you can buy yourself some beard dye.

As of writing this post, there are only eight days and fourteen hours until my beard dies. I'm going through a mourning process as of late. I glance into the mirror and I'm overwhelmed for sadness over my furry little friend. When I declared 2014 the "year of the Beard" I never thought I be just eight days away from my year challenge saddened to see my face return form it's hairy internship.

The original rules of my challenge may have to be amended... I honestly don't think I can go to a clean shaven face on the 28th of January. The shock may kill me. The shock may also send the parent company making Just For Men beard dye into finical ruin. With the amount I have using to attack my grey beard, just to cut off the supply so quickly... it may destroy the supply line. All the truckers moving fright; all the grocery store shelf-stockers. I need to think about them and their families.

2014 was also the year I stepped into my Daddy status in the gay world. Can I really continue to pull that off without a full regiment of fuzz? Guess we'll find out in only eight days and fourteen hours.

Grumpy morning beard.

Denver Diner

 I have realized, with age that I'm getting more and more like my father. I guess it's normal for people to realize that apples, really, don't fall far from their trees.

My realization about this is in my love of diners. Greasy Spoons. Genetically the paternal line of my bloodline is unexplainably drawn to eating in diners. Sitting for hours, talking with friends, or simply alone with a cup of coffee. 

Denver does not disappoint in this area of fine dinning. From Greek-owned diners staggered every couple of miles in the heart of the city, simple truck stops, to the hip trendy diners filled with bearded dudes and chunky-plastic jewelry wearing dudettes. Denver has what I need. 

I am saddened that my favorite, The Denver Diner, is still sitting dark. It was on the first real date with the Ginger Swimmer, after midnight, that I had a heaping stack of flap- jacks served in front of me. Suddenly a screamed call to get the hell out broke my dream-like state. We watched from safety as flames jetted through the roof. 

Still the diner sits dark. My very genome  wanting it to be open; so I may sit and drink coffee. Like every male in my bloodline before me. It is what we do. Until it reopens, If you need me, I'll be sitting in the back booth at that Greek diner. Drinking coffee.

A Hard Awakening

It's been eight years of living in my house. Yet, I can not still remember which shower door goes on which side as to create a seal and stop water from gushing onto the floor. The dog; however,  loves to stand at the unsealed door and lap up the fountain. 

I bring this up because there has been a couple of strange occurrences in the last fortnight that fall under the category of "Steve wakes up hard" wait. Let's name it " It's hard for Steve to wake up" 

Still mostly asleep, I peered down today to see a large Alien-like creature pressed against the shower door. Slimy and pulsating I felt like Ellen Ripley, (Her last name was Ripley...I like to be didactic) with a face hugger attacking through the shower. After wishing I had my flamethrower with me, I realized it was just Sharpei tongue. 

Last week, I poured the entire carafe of water into where the coffee grounds should be placed in the coffee maker.  Hilarity ensued as I attempted to understand why my feet were wet. 

There's been putting on of Fuzzy's jeans that are two sizes smaller than mine, the losing of my phone, until I realized I'd slept on it. Making it adhere to my back muscle/fat. But, the best was waking up and leaving the house before realizing it was my day off. 

These are all indicators that I'm way too destracted as of late. I need either a new job, or just a vacation. 

Blogging

Some say that the personal blog is long dead. A generation of bloggers whom in their day strutted and fretted their hour upon the stage, were then heard no more. Their blog pages dark. The last post, sometimes thanked readers for visiting, indicating that Twitter and other shorter attention span genres would be the next chapter. Some bloggers just walked out one day. The last mundane post to be their legacy. Social media commentators found it easy to declare the death of the personal blog, raising a brow and calmly explaining that blogging was just tales told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Somehow glossing over that 140 characters limits communication, other than the most shallow and vapid of ideas. 

I being one of those idiots, have kept blogging into my eighth year. I still encourage others to do so. When my niece had her first child, she toyed with blogging. I urged her to do so. When others have not blogged in a while I send messages to them, explaining that they are missed. We are a band of brothers. The few; the proud. Bloggers, the ones that still blog, are like hipster vinyl album collectors.  This makes readers of blogs the few people that hear the difference between compressed Bluetooth music, and the rich sound that only comes from vinyl. 

That is why I was so excited to see one tiny blog from the blogging gold rush, come back from the dust. The Mutton-Chopped Mutant. Kez from Melbourne, how we've missed your daily life pressed into vinyl. Stay strong buddy. Your blog never left my reading list, and it never will. 

If there are others out there, that you know of, please let me know so I can add them to my reading list. 

Beef or Cow?

On New Years Eve, Eve I finally got to have dinner with my close friend, Frank. It was one of those "catch up" dinners between friends as life has not allowed us time to hangout.  We met at Chilis after work.  Seeing out 2014 over chips and salsa.  

I ordered their famous chicken enchilada soup and a turkey burger.  Not that I don't eat beef burgers, I just am rarely in the mood for it. As our food came, I jumped into my stacked high turkey burger.  A couple of bites in, I noticed something strange. Mostly, a beef patty. As the waitress walked by I casually mentioned the mix up. I joked that it was beef; and icky. She seemed deeply concerned. "Oh my God!  Are you vegetarian?"

Blink-blink. I stared up at her. 

"Well,I did order a turkey burger." 

Blink-blink. She stared back at me...

After what seemed an eternity, she apologized for serving me meat. I attempted to brush off the mix up as no big deal. And as she left the table I started to question if maybe I was vegetarian. Since I only eat turkeys, chickens, the occasional fish, and frat brothers. 

My New Year's resolution? Eat strictly vegetarian. Meaning, anything that's not a cow. 

My Resolution for 2015

As I turned onto the interstate I felt the wheels of the Jeep slip on the ice. Not enough to startle me, as after the night I had nothing possibly could startle me. The slipping wheels simply moved me to automatically reach for the metal leaver next to the shifter and pop the 4X4 into its four wheel drive. I gunned the accelerator pedal and up the ramp on to northbound 25 I went.  Into the frozen night.

The highway was empty. I wasn't surprised as everyone on the planet was somewhere else. It was the one night when it was dictated that individuals should gather in groups. I, on the other hand, was speeding on an icy road.  On thin ice. Blurred lines matched my blurred mind. The things you said. Words that set me out on this cold snowy journey.

It was timed almost too perfectly. As I approached the city sky line the fireworks began to blossom. Over the towering buildings, explosions of light began. Instant massive bouquets of fire and flame using the joyous rapture of the city as their nourishment. As it is dictated that people gather on this night, I could sense the wonderment of the mere mortals of the city enveloped in the explosions on this first night. I turned back to the road. Faster and faster up the snow packed highway.

I'm not sure where I drove. Eventually the first night of the year gave up and let the first morning over-take from the East. I had driven until it was time for me too to give up. Completely healed and excited about the future due to the cathartic drive I finally exited the highway. The two exit lanes heading to the tiny street of home. The outside lane seemed wrong. Somehow.  Even if it was the lane used to exit to my house. I signaled and swerved into the inside lane. SMASH!!!! A  truck sliding full-on slammed into the car that I was just behind. The full force of the impact sent both cars into the intersection. Broken glass flew through the air like fireworks.

Sometimes life gives you signs. Loud, twisted metal and broken glass signs. Signs to remind you that perspective is needed. That is my Resolution for 2015. To seek out and pay attention to these signs.