Is there anyone out there?

Sometimes I wonder if I’m posting stuff for my own entertainment. Maybe I am.

In any case it doesn’t look like anyone’s reading this thing. Am I that boring? Would you rather hear of my sexual escapades? Oh wait, there aren’t any to tell about. How about my dating life? Oh yeah, that’s right, I don’t have one.

I’m sorry, I am just foul and bitter about things lately.

I went to my friend Eric’s wake tonight. It was, to say the least, a very sobering experience.

Three weeks ago I was talking to him. Now he’s gone.

He was only 37 years old. Ridiculously young. His body failed him. Bad kidneys, bad liver.

Why is it that someone so wonderful had to be struck down so quickly?

His family was all there. Eric was Filipino. There were family members everywhere. They loved Eric. They knew he was gay. They loved him because he was their son, their brother, their nephew or cousin. It made me feel even more love and appreciation for him. I could see where he got his wonderful personality from.

Tomorrow is the funeral, and the Chorus is singing. I don’t know how I’ll get through it, but that’s what we do– we sing, even when times are rough and our hearts are broken. It’s the greatest gift we can give to Eric. He would be so thankful. As we were for him.

Sorry, I’m overly melancholy tonight. I actually tried to sit online and coordinate a hookup. Bad idea. I’m just not in the mood. In fact, I haven’t been for quite some time. I just don’t want to bother with that anymore. Too much work, and not enough reward. What’s the point?

If you’re reading this (if anyone is) you may have also noticed that I jumped on the “100 Things About Me” bandwagon. Of course, I added a few “sub-points”. There might be some surprising things in there, there might not be. But it’s all about me. I’ll move them to my other server after a while so they don’t clog this page up so much.

Boy is this ever a true RcktRambling. I’m just spouting out what’s in my mind. Random thoughts. I guess that makes a true weblog. Or a journal. Or whatever you want to call it.

A boy in distress
Cries out for the hand
That comforted him
Throughout his life
From childhood
To adulthood.
He reaches for it,
Finding the air,
And grasps at nothing.

Thing about me #93: I like to write poetry to clear my mind.