October 2005 Archives

Well, it seem that my computer woes had a very simple yet very technical cause, dating from its "souping up" via my housesitting prodigy back when I was visiting my mother in July. It seems in adding memory, he ignored something called "parity." Need I say more?

What a eureka moment when Don, who was all set to accompany me to Fry's to get a new motherboard, tried just "one more thing--a longshot." And boom, suddenly my pretty little machine was zipping around like a piranha in a koi pond. I am SO relieved, and so was Don, who was almost sleepless this weekend with the tossing and turning anxiety of a pathologist chasing an elusive diagnosis.

I feel much better today, although I just woke up from a two-hour nap, and had to force myself to do so. This infernal fatigue. At least I'm not lonely. My ex- David is staying here a week before moving permanently to San Francisco, recovering from minor surgery. He needs to see his doc for a follow-up before he can leave town. He and I are like a pair of old socks. We don't even have to talk to be comfortable with each other.

I did have to cancel my Saturday writing class--or rather phone it in. I spoke to the students, who were going to mutually critique each other in my absence, and promised to pick up their work this week and personally go over it with them before next Saturday's class. I could have soldiered through it, but I was really cognizant of not wanting to spread a cold to the over-70 set in particular.

MCO 2005

Boy, Poor Harriet Meirs. What a week can do to a person.

Hot Air Balloon is pulling out all the stops. Called me twice last night, not wanting to be alone. (I had the phone off, having turned in early to nurse my cold). It sounds like such a reasonable request, doesn't it? Except this is what he does every single time he has to face and sit with a little discomfort. He looks for an outside fix. And if he doesn't get it in the form of someone who takes pity on him, or he manipulates or seduces, than he take it in the form of a chemical fix, having set up its justification by being "abandoned" by friends "who don't care."

As if being lonely or depressed for an evening--or two-or three, or several hundred (as in prison) is going to kill you. It's actually a good opportunity to establish a working relationship with a higher power of your choosing.

I'm going down to Carson to pick up my broken-legged friend Eric to bring him back up to Church. Thank God a good night's sleep kicked the head cold into lower gear. It's almost out of the head and totally in the chest. Which is annoying, but not so much.

MCO 2005

I'm having coughing fits that make my head ache.

I have reminded myself of the last time I had this bad a cold, and that was in Delano, on Memorial Day Weekend last year. I remember just praying, "I don't mind feeling this way, God, but I just want to feel this way in my own bed." Well, i got my wish. (Prison was the suckiest place to be sick, plus, if I remember correctly, I also had diarrhea that weekend. That's a nightmare, in prison.)

So I'm trying to stay grateful that I get to be sick at home. Except when I have to go out. In which case, I get to be reminded I ain't in jail.

Hot Air Balloon is trying to bribe me back into his life with an expensive birthday gift. I refused it. For someone on a (very) fixed income, who can never make it to the end of the month, to buy someone he doesn't even talk to anymore yet another pair of leather pants (I have two as it is) well that's just nuts.

I told him to return the jeans and use the money on himself, or Pakistani Earthquake relief if he was feeling the need to give it away.

MCO 2005

I'm starting to sound like an old lady, but twice a year, I feel like one.

The cold, is indeed, descending into my chest. But today I was not able to rest, I drove my broken-legged friend, Eric, from Hollywood to Carson, drove Don downtown and back (he spent the day trying to puzzle out what the hell is wrong with my computer), and I went to pick up my surgery-recovering friend David from the valley so he can veg out on my couch for the weekend.

I'm bushed. I'm going to take a nap, then I have to get up and shop and cook for David (who has been a very good friend to me of late).

I do hope I feel better for my class tomorrow, but it's not as if I have a fever or anything. I'll live.

MCO 2005

Well, I’m definitively not out of the woods yet, computer-wise. Problems up the yin-yang, I will no doubt have to get a new hard drive. But I have the sage guidance of my new protector, Don. He made it clear that customer satisfaction is his middle-name, and he won’t abandon me until everything is copacetic. He’s due to come back tomorrow.

Unfortunately, a terrific cold had befallen me. I thought it was an allergy, but after the 40th sneeze, I came to realize I was terrible congested in the head and had a devil of a time getting back to sleep. I dragged myself out of bed and to walk the dog, and will be going back there soon. I have to drive a friend to the doctor in the afternoon, and am due at the theater tonight, but I might cancel the latter as the tickets were free and it seems rather anti-social to spread the germs in close quarters.

I did wake up to a tripling of the numbers of my average daily readership. I don’t know what the explanation is, but I am delighted. It could be a quirk related to the “repair” of my software, maybe even revisits by the same person are being counted as separate. For the sake of my desire to be popular today in particular, feeling rather under the weather, I choose to think there is some other, more ego-gratifying explanation.

I did get a 10-CD set as a perk for contributing to KCRW a way back. 10 short stories of Somerset Maugham, read by excellent actors. I listened to one before going to sleep last night, and shall listen to another to lull myself now. Delightful. I LOVE Maugham, probably my favorite writer.

MCO 2005

Dear Marc,

Just to let you know that your contribution made it to the book

"Another Word A Day" which has just been released widely. Your story

is on page 125: http://amazon.com/o/asin/0471778788/ws00-20

Thanks!

--

Anu Garg

Last year, (right before my arrest, I think) I sent in an anecdote about the derivation of the term "86'd," to The "Word A Day" people, and my definition is included in her (his?) new book.

So I've been published!

MCO 2005

Well, I announced on a group level that I was in computer hell, and help appeared in the form of Don. Don, to put it mildly, is a character. On the outside, think the cookie monster from Sesame Street. On the inside, a big teddy bear. Don was also, in a former life, a computer maven extraordinaire. I took him to his place, in a SRO downtown, and he returned to my place with all sorts of software, and proceeded to overhaul this computer. Unfortunately, even he got some error codes that made no sense to him, so it could be there is something wrong with my hard drive. At least I didn't feel like I had done something stupid and terrible to have brought this all on myself.

Afterwards, I drove Don back to his place, with my old printer/scanner as partial payment for his work. (He loves the idea of diagnosing what was wrong with it and fixing it. A total, self-described "gearhead.") I also made him breakfast and gave him what cash I could spare--actually he insisted on $10 less than I offered. Then I picked up my buddy David and drove him to the dentist in Glendale, came back here to blog and dogwalk, and will return shortly to pick him up.

Most important, I have WORD again, so I can restart on the last edit of the blog.

Yesterday would have been my Dad's 77th birthday. Forgot to mention that, so thought I would now.

MCO 2005

I have to make this quick, because Explorer, like every other program on my computer, keeps shutting down on me. All my efforts of the past few days seem to have been for naught, and I am going to have to reformat and reinstall everything, just like my sister told me I'd have to do. Haven't I learned by now she is always right?

Last night, the writer's group I attended was fabulous. The pieces in progress were all very good, and I was able to make some good contributions to the commentary. The actors were also wonderful. I really hope I get in, although I need to "audition" a few more times.

Of course, the prospect of reformating the computer causes a wave of fatigue to wash over me. I'm sure it's completely psychosomatic, but I can't help it. I have to nap. It's the closest thing to getting drunk that I can think of. Sometimes you just need to escape for reality.

MCO 2005

I took this photo from my camera while walking back from my mechanic's.

It would be impossible to have made it up, wouldn't it?

Reality is truly stranger than fiction. Or more poignant, at least.

MCO 2005

I went to Staples to get a refund on my printer cartridges, and bought a simply-worded guide to Windows XP. I am just going to have to bite the bullet, and figure out what’s wrong, probably reformat the hard drive and reinstall Windows myself. It’s sort of like finally going to the doctor if you’ve been putting it off forever. I’ll feel much better when it’s over.

Last night I got a very unexpected email from the duo who arranges Word-a-Rama, that one night a month gig at which I read some stuff in March. They were interested in a longer piece, so I sent them something I have added to the blog rewrite, a segment on my stay at Delano entitled “Whisper, Thumper and Chainsaw” – referring to three characters who played important roles in my stay there. I hope they like it—I would love to read my stuff to an audience again.

Tonight I got to a meeting of a playwrights group at a theater. It’s a start.

Now, a quick visit to the mechanic. My front right directional is busted. All I need is to get pulled over for that.

MCO 2005

Today, I am a bit of a Gloomy Gus, just like the weather. I feel so inadequate sometimes. I feel like I should be writing a novel and screenplay a year, be directing plays, reading the Times everyday, fostering dogs and children, and feeding and housing the homeless. No kidding, I honestly feel guilty for not doing all of those things, and inwardly, think there is no reason for it but laziness.

Friday night I saw Hot Air Balloon briefly, and offered him condolences on the death of a good friend of his (pneumonia). He left me a very sweet message telling me it was just want he needed to hear at that moment.

I wish he was that way all the time, and I could have him in my life, but I can't risk a repeat of the past. But I will always have a soft place in my heart for him.

MCO 2005

I am increasingly concerned by all of the gay men who can't manage to stay sober, as they keep going out over sex, or rather, their perception that they are somehow sinning against the Gods of Gaydom if they don't have as much as they can as kinky and often and high as they can get it.

If gratification equalled happiness, I would have long ago risen into rapture. It has been a great blessing for sex to have resumed a right-sized place in my life. It's fun, it's gratifying, it's intimate, but it happens a helluva lot less often, lasts much less long when it does, and involves so much less sturm und drang, not to mention wardrobe changes. Basically, it has become SANE again, and if I go weeks or even months without it, I do not feel terribly deprived or that I missing something urgent and required for my well-being.

The thing about the bigger sources of true contentment--creative expression, affection and intimacy--not just romantic, but with friends and family as well--and above all, an active spiritual life, is that the evidence of them is much more subtler, more textured, less tactile and in-your-face. But so much realer.

On other fronts, I remain in computer hell after all. One hour and a half on the phone to HP tech support in Bangalore, all to discover that I have a faulty installation disk for the new printer. Arggh.

My second writing class at the Senior Center went very well. There is some surprising talent in that class.

I better post this before Explorer closes down on me.

MCO 2005

I got a call last night from someone with 2+ years of sobriety who had just relapsed. It sorta blew me away, because he didn’t seem remotely close to a slip. It reminded me in a big way how cunning addiction is. It took me a long time to believe the disease paradigm, but I really believe it. The most pernicious aspect seems to be that it seems to progress even when you get sober. For example, if you’ve been sober for three years, and you pick up again, you don’t go back to where you were 3 years before you got sober. You go right to where you would have been if you never got sober at all. I hear this over and over again. And it reminds me that if I used again, I could expect the same. No thank-you ma’am.

My absolutely stupendous Mommy sent me $200 for my birthday, and it was exactly what I needed to buy a new printer/scanner/copier, plus some software to fix my computer woes. I was about to go bald from tearing my hair out over both problems. As soon as I post this, I will install the new printer—which I desperately need because I actually finished another draft of the book and need to print it out. Not to mention stuff for my students tomorrow.

I’m completely addicted to French television. Vive TV5.

MCO 2005

The reason, by the way, that I didn’t post the “Kronik” article here, but referred readers to the site, it to drive traffic to the site. If his numbers reach a certain level, it is far easier for him to attract advertisers, and then, hopefully, pay me for my writing. So even if you don’t have time to read my article or spend time on the site, every visit will count.

Conversely, I am hoping visitors to his site will visit mine, and if my numbers go high enough I can attract advertisers as well, and actually make something off the blog. Don’t worry, no annoying pop-ups, I promise. But I think that day is still pretty far away.

Yesterday the anxiety I reported promptly morphed into depression. As usual, like everyone in such a state, I grappled with possible explanations. It could have been due to the fact that I’ve had to get off the testosterone because it was driving up my liver count, it could be a manifestation of hurt that a supposedly close friend here completely forgot my birthday—again, it could have just been my “period”—the two or three days a month I seem to get the blues. It could have been a combination of all of the above or none of the above. Who really knows with depression?

All I do know is that it becomes extremely difficult to do initiate any activity that might kick you out of the very same depression. Hence, apart from the blog, I did no writing. I just took the dog for a walk, and took a nap. When I woke up, I took my friend to the Burbank airport and then picked up another friend from the dentist in Glendale. Then last night, I gave another friend with a broken leg a ride to Carson (about 30 minutes away.) This seems to be one of the best approaches to conquering the blues—doing things for others.

I feel quite restored today.

MCO 2005

I invite you to check out this link, and enjoy Wehonews.com. Scroll down the page to read my first article, the "Kronik Kolumn." Thanks!

http://wehonews.com/z/wehonews/

MCO 2005

It was so much fun doing lights for the show last night. Everything went off very well, and there was an opportunity for me to give some well-appreciated feedback on how some scenes/characters could be made funnier/better.

Today is one of those days where I’m battling free-floating anxiety that seems to come out of nowhere once in a while and mug me. It’s not overwhelming anymore, like it used to be, but it does seem to nip at the heels rather doggedly. I know from experience that part of the cure for this is to write. In fact, I’m trying to commit to finishing the rewrite of the blog by November 17th, which will be the one year anniversary of my release. I just have to make it a priority. God knows between the blog, email, Gaza, meetings and naps, I can easily fill up every day. Today, for example, I want nothing more than to curl up with Bishop John’s Shelby Spong’s “Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism” which is absolutely fascinating. This man is a profound but very accessible thinker, and I predict that in 100 years, he will be seen as a major philosopher of this time.

As it is, I’m driving a friend to the airport later, so I better get cracking.

MCO 2005

Attending rehearsal last night brought me back to what really was the happiest time in my life, all those drama society productions in high school. And less the performing than the rehearsals, the working together, the brainstorming, the laughter, the bonding. And we were good too! My hats off to Ellen Dudley Dennis, a drama coach extraordinaire. I hope she’s having a happy retirement, wherever she is.

MCO 2005

He saw my dog being sweet with another dog, and said to me "He has a good heart. Means his owner must have a good heart too."

Yeah, but what about my clogged arteries?

(I've been eating fish, fish, fish. Which I'm not crazy about, believe me, but I guess I do want to live.)

MCO 2005

Tonight I’ve been asked to go to a play rehearsal and learn the lights for a staged reading of a play written by my friend Alex Wechsler. The show is free, so any Angelenos who aren’t doing anything tomorrow night, you are invited to come and “hear” this new musical “The Devil and Dexter Webster.” I haven’t seen it, but Alex is a very witty, literate man, and I would bet it’s quite good. (Occidental Studios, Soundstage 6, 1041 N. Mansfield, October 18, 7:30).

I love the sense of gradually drifting into participation in LA arts scene. Next week I will be checking out another theater group with the possibility in mind of becoming a participating writer. They work on screenplays as well, and I’ve dug up an old one, “The Utter Truth,” that I hadn’t read in 10 years. It stands up very well, I thought.

It raining off and on in LA today and Gaza and I got caught in a downpour. He seemed not to remember the last time he’d felt rain—it’s been a long time. He was so cute trying to walk with me under my umbrella.

MCO 2005

Highlights of my birthday weekend:

Friday afternoon: unexpected (and way fun) roll in the hay.

Saturday afternoon: my first class at the Seniors’ Center went very well. Interesting group of 5 women and 3 men, all of who look much younger than their years. (And I thought my Mom was the only one.)

Saturday night: Dinner out with my friends Mark and Bill, then a movie “Proof.” It was very good. I was then perfectly happy to come home to walk Gaza and watch French TV until bed, my first day as a 47-year old over.

This morning: I take Gaza to the park, and fall into a pleasant exchange with none other than a Buddhist monk, from Burma. I actually took his picture, which I will post as soon as my computer stops closing down my Adobe Photoshop. (My computer problems are driving me a bit batty, I must confess).

11-1: Church. Once again, Reverend Neil was wonderful.

2:00: Theater: “The Mitchells” at the Ruskin Theater in Santa Monica.

Thumbs Up. Great cast, amusing script. Well-done.

4-5: A bite and lovely chat with the playwright of “The Mitchells,” G. Bruce Smith.

Now, home and Sunday night TV.

It was just a pleasant, stimulating, neat-o weekend. I really do have an interesting life, full of interesting people and interesting encounters—just like the life I fantasized about having when I was “out there” and of course, inside.

You know, it is so easy, particularly for alcoholics, who crave over-the-top intensity, to keep one’s eyes overly focused on the big things-getting the raise, taking the big trip, landing the job, the car, the boyfriend etc. Success at such endeavors is relatively rare, or at least intermittent at best. There is so much more satisfaction to be had by appreciating the rich texture of daily life, at least when you remain present to and aware of all the fodder for happiness offered up by a hug, a conversation, a good book, or meal or movie or friend. God is truly more easily found in the little things.

MCO 2005

P.S. This is my 500th blog entry.

Today's Horoscope

You could feel like you have a spotlight shining on you today, Marc. Your entourage will applaud you for your talents and contributions, which will be nice. Soak up the applause, because you deserve it! At home, you might be the center of discussion as neighbors try to get you to run for school board or town council. You would be a good candidate, so you might want to consider it.

I'll take it.

MCO 2005

As I type this I am watching—well, listening, really—to Channel 288 on my TV, which is France’s TV5. I had asked when I upgraded my cable if I had access to a French channel, and the person on the other end thought not. I am absolutely delighted to discover otherwise. My French will be as good as new in no time. (They’re promoting an interview with Jane Fonda, who evidently speaks flawless French. Who knew?)

The TV show, CSI, is filming right around the corner. I actually might be visible in a shot, standing across the street with my dog (the episode will air in about a month). It’s funny, no matter how jaded a Los Angeleno you are, used to seeing celebrities and film shoots on a regular basis, it is impossible to suppress a fantasy that the director will see you standing there, take a liking to your look, and ask you to replace an actor who just got food poisoning. (Me, spike the tuna salad on the craft cart? Never!)

Today I’m feeling very blessed. I have a full—cheeseless—refrigerator, French TV, and a busy birthday planned tomorrow—in fact I may not have time to blog. In the morning I set up for an Alanon conference, and will attend some workshops; in the afternoon I teach at the Senior Citizens center, then dinner and a movie with friends.

Oh, and here’s a mini-poem to celebrate the timely, pending demise of “The Brain”

Karl Rover, Karl Rover

Don’t you know that it’s over?

MCO 2005

Well, I just got the delayed visit from my Parole Officer. I can’t tell you what a joy it was for me to say to him as he left: “Listen, I just wanted you to know that I was completely in the wrong about the visit. I made an agreement and I should have stuck to it. I’m really sorry.” His expression went blank with amazement or gratitude or both. I could tell he had never, ever heard such a thing from a parolee under his aegis. He replied: “Don’t trip. It’s okay.”

Hopefully I put myself back on the early discharge list, although that is not why I told him what I did. It was simply the truth. And though the truth did hurt at first, it did, in the case, also set me free. (Or kept me free, in this case).

Yesterday, I followed up on a lead for a writing “job” (in quotes because it’s pay-free for the time being). I inquired with the editor of a new web magazine “wehonews.com” about whether he could use a new contributor. He was familiar with my name, as I was with his, both of us having worked in various capacities in the LA gay press over the years. He told me he needed someone to write a “Kronik Kolumn,” about living with chronic illness. Talk about up my alley, particularly as my brain was brimming with ironic observations upon finding out yesterday that I’m a fine candidate for a heart attack. To put it mildly, I would have bet a lot of money for many years on never having to worry about hearing those words.

What amazes me is how quickly I got about writing the article, which will be finished by this afternoon. When I have an outside motivation, a promise of placement or a check, I find the time and energy that so eludes me when I am writing something on spec to be shopped around. I suppose this is human nature, but it really annoys me.

Saturday I start my volunteer writing class at the Senior Citizens’ Center in the valley. I have 7 students registered. I am looking forward to it.

MCO 2005

It’s taken me less than 24 hours to go from feeling the injured party in the Parole fiasco to getting that I was completely to blame. I understood that the rules were not to leave a 50 mile radius without a pass, and I should have requested one, even if not getting one might have forced me to cancel my trip. It was a stupid risk to take, period.

At the same time, the threat to reincarcerate me was cruel and unusual punishement. I almost had a heart attack—not such an outlandish proposition, given the report I just got from my doctor. My cholesterol is sky high, mostly due to the steroids I take to combat wasting, but not doubt exacerbated by my love of dairy products. The doc put me on Lipitor, and instructions to get my act together diet-wise. When I can afford it, I will also have to go back to the gym—the hikes with Gaza don’t seem to quite be enough.

Had a recurring nightmare last night that I murdered someone years ago and got away with it, and was about to be discovered. I can’t tell you how real this feels while I’m dreaming it, I wake up like a drowning man who finally breaks the water’s surface and gulps air. The relief is overwhelming (and no, I do not have such a skeleton in my closet). I wonder what the dream signifies—I’ve had it about every six months for 10 years or so.

Lastly, someone has finally matched me up with someone else. A woman I met at Andrea’s wedding shower thought I should meet a friend of hers, a handsome playwright whose current production I will be going to see on Sunday. We had a nice talk last night, and already exchanged pix on line. I daren’t say anything more, just that it’s awfully nice to meet someone this way for a change. And he’s not an Aries—thank the Gods.

MCO 2005

I know exactly how a mouse feels when a cat who has been playing with it lets it go.

My new parole officer put my old parole officer on the speakerphone and they ripped me a new asshole for going to S.F. without a pass. Clearly my old parole officer. was pissed that I gave my new parole officer the impression that my old parole officer gave me the impression that as long as I stayed out of trouble if I traveled without a pass, this was not a major transgression. I suppose after 10 months of pissing clean, God knows how many AA meetings, numerous published articles, and 4 trips taken on requested passes, I started to think of myself as a normal person again who could go away for 48 hours without asking for permission. Certainly I bridled at the likely possibility that my new P.O. would have refused a pass and I would have had to cancel the trip. (This because I knew he wouldn’t have had the time or inclination to look at my file. To be fair, I’m sure his caseload is extremely heavy. This is the system’s fault more than his.)

But I was wrong to take the trip without a pass, and owning up to it without reservations, and apologizing profusely, might have been what saved my ass. Although I think they were playing “good cop/bad cop,” provoking a heart attack moment when my new P.O. told my old P.O. “I think he should be locked back up.” I almost ran out of the office and into the car and straight to Mexico. As it turned out, I wasn’t violated and I don’t think he seriously intended to. He just wanted to scare the bejeebuz out of me—and succeeded. It’s a miracle I’m not downing a fifth of vodka as we speak. That’s how distressing it was. (And no possibility of that option. No way the temporary relief would be worth losing my sobriety.)

Needless to say, I’ll won’t so much as change lanes without putting on my blinkers until I’m discharged from parole, and there’ll be no trips anywhere for Thanksgiving or Christmas. But it’s no surprise that upwards of 75% of parolees violate and go back to prison. If I almost did, imagine what it’s like for those who haven’t had all my advantages? Most violate because they don’t piss clean—and they still don’t get sent back until they’ve tested dirty 3 or 4 times. I was in with one guy in prison who pissed dirty 10 times before they finally violated him.

Thank God I have this blog. Sharing this is the only thing calming me down right now. That and a pack of Kool Milds. I’m sorry, I needed SOMETHING. I’m going to try to re-quit on my birthday. But better be honest about it than feel like I’m lying about something else, even if I’m ashamed of what it is I’m doing. And better a cigarette than a cocktail or a valium. (Yes, better nothing, or a meeting, but frankly, lung cancer in 20 years looks pretty attractive to me right now. Make that 17 years, my life insurance terminates at 65.)

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being a felon. The drug-addict-Marc (DAM) of the past feels like a disembodied version of who I am today. But I still have to face the consequences of what he did in my body (while he kept my sanity bound and gagged in a closet).

MCO 2005

This one was a complete accident. but I really like it.

MCO 2005

These are some camera phone photos I took in San Francisco.

The one from the boat that looks like a nighttime photo was actually taken during the day, when the fog was so heavy coming out of San Francisco that it seemed like nighttime.

MCO 2005

Today I am struggling with a fair amount of fear. This is due to my impending visit tomorrow morning with my parole officer, called on the carpet as I am for going to San Francisco without a pass. I think the chance that he could violate me and send me back to prison is virtually negligible, no doubt he just wants to pee-test me and make sure I didn’t get high this weekend (no worries there). But when it comes to even the remote possibility of jail, the fear is hardly rational.

Yesterday was full of inspiration. At the MCC Church we honored the retiring Rev. Troy Perry, who started MCC in L.A. in 1968. It has grown to a denomination of 43,000 members in 250 congregations in 23 nations, and its influence as a driving force of the modern gay rights movement cannot be overstated. Troy gave a “final” sermon, tracing the high points of the past 37 years. I was ignorant of most of it. The early years of the church were full of firebombings and dedicated opposition, particularly in the south. It was an amazing trajectory, shared with grace and a great deal of humor. Afterwards, the city of West Hollywood dedicated a plaque to him outside the church, naming that stretch of sidewalk “Perry Square.”

Afterwards I stayed for what turned out to be a fabulous talk by Rev. Jack Spong, the Episcopal Bishop of Northern New Jersey, who was the first prelate of his stature to ordain an openly gay priest in 1989. He spoke of being raised in Lynchburg, Virginia, amidst the same fundamentalist mindset that condemned homosexuality when it wasn’t denying its existence entirely. He shared the experiences he had with individual gay priests in the 60s and 70s that challenged the views he had never questioned, terming those encounters “pebbles in my shoes.” He turned these “pebbles” into opportunities to learn and evolve and question, eventually challenging both the Episcopal Church and organized religion as a whole. He was dry, funny, warm and fascinating. I intend to read some of his books, including “Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism” and “Sins of the Scriptures,” as well as see the play about his life “Pebbles in My Shoes” at the Tom Bradley theater here in L.A.

A blog reader I know from Church gave me the impression that what keeps him most intrigued by the blog are the discussions of my romantic life. I have no idea if that’s true across the board, but I’ll try to keep things interesting. All I can report for now is that the latest romantic interest leaves great messages, but has been logistically less available than I’d hoped. He is also, clearly, being extremely cautious, and honest about it. It’s all okay with me. When it comes to this realm, I am operating without a schedule.

Obviously, I am finally back on-line, and the relief is palpable, to put it mildly. I struggle enough with loneliness and isolation by virtue of having chosen a solitary profession, not having the Internet increases that sense markedly.

MCO 2005

Yesterday was one of the nicest days I've had in a very long time.

David and I went to Starbucks in the morning, and met up with another friend--someone I knew fairly well in a previous life in San Diego. We toured the waterfront, and tried to get on a ferry to Alcatraz, but they were all booked. Never we minded, and took a ferry to Tiburon instead, a beautiful town across the bay. There we walked around exploring the shops, and took a hike up to where the beautiful people in big houses live, enjoying the view of the bay. Then we meandered down to a reasonable lunch, and hung out watching the pelicans dive for fish until we returned on the ferry.

On the way back, we got a great view of the Blue Angels air show above, exciting acrobatics that continued directly over the city as we made our way back to the apartment. Then we napped, after which I made my way to a meeting. Then I met back up with David, plus two old friends from LA, Claude and Andy, and we were joined by David's brother, Santos and his boyfriend Dirk, at a very nice restaurant.

David treated me for my birthday. but as the one non-drinker, my portion of the bill was not eye-popping. It was a pleasure to be thoroughly present for the occasion. Claude and I and David made something of a three musketeers a decade or so ago, for several years, and they were good times, sometimes a little crazy, but not insane. The whole dinner was delightful, with lots of laughter.

Today we drive back, and David will return in a few weeks for good. I am leaving him in good hands, and am delighted to have a ready made weekend getaway spot any time I so desire. And this little jaunt actually didn't cost me any more than it would have to stay in LA--no kidding.

I took some pretty routine pictures with the camera phone, and one quite by accident that is striking. I will post it when I get home. Well, not tomorrow, as my modem is still on the blink. But Monday morning it will hopefully work after a service call.

My prayers to those in Islamabad. Except for Osama Bin Laden. Frankly, I hope he's crushed under a big-ass boulder and takes three days to die.

MCO 2005

So last month, my parole officer tells me she is being transferred to another office, and I will have a new agent assigned to me. This is annoying, because we had an excellent relationship, and she was clearly going to recommend me for getting off parole early, and now I have to establish a whole new rapport with a new person, who is probably too overloaded with cases to even look at my file.

She told me to come in to find out who the new agent was the first week in October, and I came in Wednesday. The new guy and I had a good meeting, and I gave him a urine sample, but I did not tell him I was coming up to San Francisco. This is because he would have said he had to run it by his supervisor and couldn't have gotten me a pass in time, and I was leaving the next day. (I have gotten several passes since I was released, and each time it involved several days' wait and two trips to get it from my P.O.) The last time, in fact, my P.O. told me if I went somewhere out of the 50 miles zone and somehow got a ticket or somesuch, a phone call to her would get me released. But just to stay out of trouble--and I hardly risk that.

So I come up here, for a whole two days, and at 6:30 last night my new P.O. calls to tell me he's making a surprise visit to my apartment today. I tell him I'm working, can we make it Monday? He says he'll come by before work. I tell him I have my AA meeting at 7:30. He says not to go. (This actually pissed me off--if you have a parolee going to meeting, the last thing you want to tell them is to skip one). So I fessed up and told him I was here. So of course he's really pissed, because he's completely used to parolees who constantly lie to him, dick him around and get in trouble. I remind him that I have pissed clean for 10 months in a row, and that I didn't even know him until the day before, and why the hell couldn't he have told me he wanted to visit two days hence then? (After all, he was telling me the day before, so where's the surprise anyway? If I was doing some illicit, I would clearly have time to not be doing it by the time he showed up.)

I told him I would be back Saturday night, and he told me to be in his office Tuesday morning. I suppose so he can yell at me in person and re-test me. I did tell him to call my old P.O., I'm rather sure she'll reassure him that I am the last one on his list of ex- bad guys he has to worry about. God forbid he should look in my file and see the four articles--one in a National magazine--I have written since I got out. (No worry about the blog. I guarantee you neither of them know what it is.)

So it was a bit nerve-wracking, to say the least. I don't know what I could have done differently without cancelling the trip, and even though it was not a necessity, it's quite wonderful to be seeing some good friends I haven't seen in years, and just to get out of town for two days. Plus, on the way back I'm also picking up stuff still at my brothers.

I refuse to let it ruin my trip to Alcatraz today. Yes, the ironies do abound, don't they?

MCO 2005

My cable went down two days ago, and when it came back on, my modem would not work. On Monday, someone for the cable company is coming out to fix it.

Meanwhile I have driven up with my friend David to San Francisco and am putting this in from the computer at his brother's apartment. It is, as always, gorgeous here.

I will be back on Saturday night, and will try to post something more before Monday.

It's hell for a blogger to be off line, let me tell you.

MCO 2005

I have to run for my monthly visit to my parole officer, but I offer two links. One is an interview with Jeff Key, the (very handsome) gay Iraqi war vet who wrote and starred in the very well reviewed one man show, The "Eyes of Babylon." His commentary on his experience is very moving and insightful. I could kick myself for missing the play when it ran here.

(For those who remember my fiasco with the faux Iraqi Vet last month, you will understand why Mr. Keys strikes a chord in me in particular).

http://www.notesfromhollywood.com/page.cfm?typeofsite=storydetail&id=743%A7ionid=7

The second link is a funny faux blog:

http://harrietmiers.blogspot.com/

Later, my peeps.

MCO 2005

Sunday, did, indeed, work out after all.

Reverend Neil delivered a kick-ass inspirational sermon that gave me a lot of hope. He has such a can-do attitude, and MCC is really at the forefront of positive, spiritual change in this country. (And we can expect an influx a gay Catholic seminarian refugees. Thank you Pope Benedict.)

Afterwards my friend David and I went to the West Hollywood Book Fair, where I sat in on a panel. One of its speakers was Felice Picano, an author I’ve followed and admired for years. Afterwards I bought his recent book; “Fred in Love” which documents a time and place I knew very well, New York in the 70’s and 80’s. After he signed it we chatted, and I was able to tell him about the blog, and my hope to publish it. He promised to check it out. Maybe I can get a blurb from him on the jacket cover, when the day comes…

At lunch afterwards, I got a call from my friend Andrea. Unbeknownst to me, her wedding shower was that afternoon, and she said she “cleared it with the girls” and invited me over. So yours truly spent the rest of the afternoon with 12 wonderful women swapping stories and giving gifts to the bride. Frankly, my presence seemed to be like a twist of lime in a vodka tonic. It was the perfect venue for my brand of quippery, and much laughter ensued. I gave her tickets to excellent seats for three plays that I inherited from David, who can’t use them because he is moving to San Francisco.

Speaking of which, I will be helping him with the drive up there on Thursday, to bring some of his stuff to his brother’s. We will drive back on Saturday. I will get a chance to see some old friends there, and of course, San Francisco is always such a beautiful place to be for any reason.

I heard on the radio that Harriet Meirs once said that “George Bush is one of the most brilliant men I’ve ever known.” He called her “a pit bull in size 6 heels.” A rabid pit bull, I think.

MCO 2005.

Waking up to the Sunday New York Times can be a depressing experience. The withering of the Iraqi middle class, senseless bombings of tourists in Bali, $100 million dollars misspent for ice in the Katrina relief efforts, prisoners horribly abused in Louisiana, the population of lifers in prison increasing geometrically. Thank God I picked up a copy of the LA Times yesterday and caught an article about formerly prosperous farmers from Zimbabwe now transforming agriculture in Nigeria, ("thanks" to Mugabe, idiot dictator destroying his country.)

I start to understand how people just stop watching the news. I am addicted to it for life, I'm afraid, and too fascinated by the world to avert my eyes. It just fortifies my sense that the best reaction is to do what you can as one person to contribute positively to the lives with which you come into contact. And to vote--though unfortunately, as a felon, I am denied that right. That's one hell of a stupid law.

Personally though, I am having a pleasant enough weekend. Yesterday I saw the very good "Capote"--Philip Seymour Hoffman is definitely this year's Jamie Foxx. And last night stayed in and watched the incomparable "Sunset Boulevard." I did have to email my friend Andrea to tell her I just couldn't afford to go to her wedding. I couldn't call her because the disappointment I'd want to save her might have led me to book the flight anyway--and I can't, I just can't. She might instead invite me to her shower here in L.A.. As a gay man, the girls will probably accept my presence just fine, although I'm thinking of showing up as a surprise stripper instead.

Hopefully between church and the West Hollywood Book Fair, I'll go to bed tonight feeling a little more optimistic about the world than I do right now.

MCO 2005

So, with tongue firmly in cheek, here are some rules to keep in mind

when using the Queen's Engerlish:

- Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.

- And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.

- Avoid clichés like the plague. (They're old hat).

- Always avoid annoying alliteration.

- Be more or less specific.

- Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.

- Also, too, never, ever use repetitive redundancies.

- No sentence fragments. No comma splices, run-ons are bad too.

- Contractions aren't helpful and shouldn't be used.

- Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.

- Do not be redundant; do not use more words than necessary; it's

highly superfluous.

- One should never generalize.

- Don't use no double negatives.

- Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.

- One-word sentences? Eliminate.

- Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.

- Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice.

- Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them.

- Use the apostrophe in it's proper place and omit it when its not

needed.

- If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: resist

hyperbole; not one writer in a million can use it correctly.

- Puns are for children, not groan readers.

-Even if a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed.

Who needs rhetorical questions?

- Exaggeration is a million times worse than understatement.

Finally...

- Proofread carefully to see if you any words out.

MCO 2005

I made this a few years ago, but it seems rather more apropos now...

For back-up on why I feel this way, check out: http://cronus.com/quiz/

MCO 2005

Last night I dreamt that a woman at a festival painted a picture on a t-shirt I was wearing, of a bird on a horse. So, using images off the internet and Photoshop, I conjured up the above. I don’t know what the hell it means, but it’s kind of interesting concept, isn’t it?

Watching “Cleopatra” as I write this, and later will go watch “Capote.” Two single-word titled films starting with C. And this morning I heard: “Coincidences are God’s way of acting anonymously.” (I have to say, I have trouble seeing God in such a minor coincidence, but it did seem a good place to share the saying.)

Oh, and there has been an interesting development on the romantic front, but I am now completely wary about blogging about anything in that regard lest I be unwittingly jinxing things. Suffice to say we’ve had our eyes on each other for a long time, and he’s got over a year’s sobriety. So at least my choices are getting better.

MCO 2005