It’s been raining in Minneapolis for the last day and a half. Marvelous thunderstorms accompanied by alternating winds and still air.
God damned that Details magazine! Here I’m sitting at Spyhouse, ready to write a very poinant post, when one of those gawd-damned metrosexuals sits down in front of me. With his girlfriend. That’s just not fair. Why do they tease us so?
I’m jealous of traditional faghags who end up with boyfriends, who then dress their boyfriends up to be just like their gay guy friends, and order them a subscription to Details. It drives me wild! I mean seriously. Can’t these guys just wear their usual Levis and Abercrombie tops so we can, at the very least, tell them apart?
After waking up to some extreme thunder and emergency response vehicles responding to an accident in the Lowry Tunnel this morning, I made my way down to Spyhouse. Surprisingly Tom and Gregg were here, enjoying some coffee before heading off to the Unitarian Church they’ve been visiting on a few of the past several Sunday mornings.
I spoke with them for a while about the church. They said they really like it. The altar is made of rocks, and the congregation is made up of a bunch of hippies from the 60s who stopped doing drugs, but wanted to continue their spiritual experience. Maybe I’ll give it a shot some Sunday.
I tried our local chapter of MCC a couple of times, and the sermons were okay, but there’s just something unholy about walking into a church and hearing the choir rehersing It’s Raining Men that I just can’t quite get past.
I spent yesterday on the couch for five hours, napping, waking up to the thunder, falling back asleep, watching bad movies on Lifetime, falling back asleep again, and so on.
Finally around 5:00 PM I forced myself to go to the gym. Then came home, dressed and went to the Saturday night meeting I really enjoy but haven’t been to in quite some time. It’s called Saturday Night Live, and it’s held at the school directly behind the Basilica of St. Mary. It’s a speaker meeting, so there isn’t a whole lot of one-on-one interaction, but there’s just so much positive energy in that room I feel as if I’m recharged when I go.
The five minute speaker who started us off was a funny guy. I think there was some mental illness there, but I couldn’t tell if it was that or if he just had a really dry sense of humor. He kept talking about how the Lord Baby Jesus saved him, and as I looked around I could tell that I wasn’t alone – nobody else could tell if he was trying to be funny or serious, either. Oh, that and when the trusted servant asked if there was anyone visiting from out of town, he stood up and said he was visiting from St. Paul. Which is funny, because technically it is out of Minneapolis, but really, it’s only five minutes away and not really considered “out of town.”
The main speaker was really inspirational. 4 years or so sober, she was in her mid-to-late twenties. After having a child at a young age and abononing him, she’s come to make a normal life for herself in recovery and continuing to re-nuture her relationship with her son again. AA stories always get emotional when the alcoholic has children and they talk about the guilt they feel about how they weren’t around, how they abused / neglected them, etc. It’s amazing that the power of alochol and/or drugs can be stronger than the bond between mother and child.
The sun is out now, so I’m going to hit the gym and then off to see my parents – hopefully my Dad will grill steaks!