Singing 'dem Middle Class Blues

I'm reading Diary by Chuck Palahniuk, the same guy who wrote Fight Club. In each chapter of Diary, he gives something of a weather report. The chapter I read on the Metro coming home pretty much sums up my mood this evening:

Just for the record, today's weather is nervous disgust with tentative apprehension.

If I were having personal weather, that would be it: disgusted and apprehensive. You see, the particular stagnant pool where this Mosquito spends most of his time is in downtown Washington, DC, at a trade association (translation: lobbying shop) the members of which have significant culpability in the current financial meltdown. Since the subprime loan problem first appeared, culminating in today's legislative disaster, going to work has been about as much fun as a root canal.

My personal weather also includes some discouragement. As a Washington native, I have observed for some years that the people who are supposed to watch over us - make the laws, spend the tax money, etc. have no particular interest in doing their jobs - not when there's an election to be won, a corporation to be courted. I've watched as laws have passed that serve not the American people, but some corporation - Big Oil, Big Pharma, Big Food, and all the other special interests that have just a few more bucks than I do.

With no small amount of open-mouthed amazement, I've seen vast numbers of people in this county vote - twice (sort of) - for an administration that in no way serves their interests. The sleight of hand that got this president and his gang elected will keep historians busy for a long, long time. I wonder if they'll ever find what flavor Kool Aid caused good, honest people to get caught up in diversionary issues like flag burning, abortion and Gay marriage, convinced that those sins touched their lives so directly that they would - as is now being proven in every news story - give up their futures and the futures of their children.

And you're damned right I'm apprehensive. For the first time in my working career, I'm fearful of what could happen with my job. Trade assocations depend on members and my members are dropping like dominoes. We depend on them to buy our educational products, attend our meetings and conventions, pay our big membership fees, and tell us what they want from the big 7-11 on Capitol Hill. Another round of layoffs (I've survived two) isn't out of the question considering the madness of the last couple of weeks.

I'm keenly aware of how vulnerable I am. Credit card debt, meager savings, and monthly bills put me squarely in the one-paycheck-away-from-disaster column. I break into a sweat when I consider what all my middle-aged meds would cost me without health insurance. I try to remember when I'm passing mental judgment on some homeless guy that there but for the grace of God. The reality, though, is that my middle class house of cards provides for a slightly thicker blanket and a park bench with a pad. So little distance, really.

No bailout, no rescue legislation for me.

As long as I'm bitchin', I might as well mention how utterly disappointed I am that my candidate isn't willing to put his balls on the line and come back to DC to vote one way or another on the bailout. I get it - if it all goes to hell, he can confidently say he didn't back it, and if all goes well, no harm no foul.

It's foul alright.

So, I've had three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and two glasses of milk - a little comfort food to help put this to rights - at least a little bit. It will be put to rights, of course, the economy is like that. We (the collective rather than royal) will pay for the excesses of the recent market and then within a couple of years it'll cycle around again. A new president, the Change candidate maybe, might stimulate things. Who knows?

For now, I'm trying to figure out how to head downtown every day as the pit in my stomach grows larger.

Mosquito

Mood: Discouraged and pissed

A New Year

Praying for peace, prosperity, health, and happiness
in the New Year...for all.

From Firethorne to . . . Mosquito?

I really like the "mosquito in a nudist camp" quote. It fits perfectly with how I've come to view getting my blog up and running - a process that I believe should take a little time if it's to be interesting to other people and not just keyboard masturbation for someone with a half decent ability to construct a couple of sentences.

So, my blog with it's three little posts is now officially re-christened. In a mere paragraph, Firethorne becomes the Mosquito and we all get to see what happens next and from what body part I'll be sucking on for inspiration.

Welcome.

Mosquito
(of a wet Sunday evening in the Nation's Capitol)

I'm thinking...I'm thinking...

This blog has been on my mind quite a bit over the last several days. With only (now) two entries, I can't imagine that it's interesting to anyone but me. What I can't quite put my finger on is how much of me I want to put out there. Like most netheads, I zip in and out of the blogosphere. Some blogs I like for the sexual content, including men whose lives read just as good as porn. Other blogs, like My Confessions, which I follow religiously, attract me because the author, Bigg, puts so much of himself right out there - a great story, an interesting life and wonderful writing.

So, I'm conflicted about what to put out there. I live in Washington, DC and while I'm openly gay, one of my jobs is with an organization that can sometimes get a bit touchy if those two facets of my life get too close to one another. So, I'm still thinking. I don't want to bore people (both of you), nor am I particularly interested in providing yet another place for pictures of naked boys, videos, or news of the day (although that's a distinct possibility every now and again)

In the meantime, and so you don't have to endure too much of my thought process, some Firethorne Facts:

This is a firethorn (note that there is no "e" on the end):

The official name is Pyracantha (which may become the new name of this blog before too long - I just like the sound of it).

Why Firethorn? Although I'm not active, I'm still a card-carrying member of Washington's Radical Fairies An organization best described visually, but gay hippies is probably not far off the mark.

Back when I was preparing to leave my 23-year relationship, I met the man who was running the fairie circle here in DC and we spent an afternoon at the National Arboretum (a great place if you're visiting DC - off the beaten path...way off). Anyway, the tradition with fairies is that everyone gets a fairie name, usually based on some aspect of personality, a funny event, or a talent (my fairie boyfriend was "Kirby" - men of a certain age will get the reference). Anyway, I saw Firethorn, liked it, and christened myself. For some reason, the word didn't look complete so I added the "e" on the end - my first stab at fairie fabulousness. We'll talk about the coral baby doll nighty another time . . .

Okay. Looks like we have a start here.

Time for me to get to work. Oh yes, my other job, the one not so sensitive about the gay issue is with an organization deeply impacted by the current financial mess. Sometimes it's like going to work in a funeral parlor . . . which might actually be preferable.

On the other hand, I have a job and I try to be pretty big on the grateful thing.

Good day to all!

Firethorne Confessions...

I didn't know I had a blog. Clearly, I must have set it up unless blogger adds "Confessions" to everything.

Doubtful.

It's my first post September 11 2008. September seems to be my time for starting things, especially written things. I can remember precisely when I began my computerized journal (I use a great journaling software) - it was September 10, 2001. You can bet I had quite a bit to write about those first few days.

But today? I'm sitting at my office (having stumbled upon this blog I didn't know I had) and not feeling particularly engaged with my new toy...just yet...