July 2006 Archives

There's an epidemic in Hollywood of couches being put on the street and staying there for f**king ever. It angers and frustrates me. I'm pissed at the people who do it, I'm pissed at the city for taking 6 months to pick them up. These 4 couches are all on 2 blocks of one street!

And then I think it through, and come to the conclusion that there is a silver lining, of sorts. Waste is a symbol of abundance. In any third world country, these couches would be snatched up within minutes. There are cottage industries of people who take the castoffs of the affluent and recycle and repair them. Here, even the poor can afford to pick and choose--even ignore--free furniture.

This, however, is cold comfort. Waste is waste and trash is trash. An article in yesterday's L.A. Times exposes man's murder, literally, of the world's oceans via pollution. I simply can't see how we are going to come back past this tipping point. The strides in technology will have to come so fast and furious--you know, like oil-digesting organisms, --and I think we are too far gone for them to save us.

Speaking of too far gone, I think I am past the point of no return with Tennessee Tony. I remember when I blogged two years ago, just about now, from Chino, that something told me maybe, just maybe, I had one great romance still in my future. Well I was right. And this better be the only one, because my heart couldn't take another one. As it is I might need a pacemaker cause it skips a beat every time I hear his voice.

I ran lines with Richard (Caste of the Wounded Tongues) again this morning and I'm doing so again later this afternoon. He's started to solicit some feedback, and has actually incorporated a few of my suggestions. What a great feeling. He's very grateful for the second pair of eyes and ears--but not nearly as grateful as I am.

MCO 2006

See Below

I am spending several hours this weekend running lines with my friend Richard Hefner, the writer and star of this show, (including music and lyrics). I had the honor of his putting gorgeous music to lyrics of mine last year, resulting in a song called "This Man True."

If you're in LA, PLEASE get tickets for this show. This man has more talent in his pinky than most people do in their entire body. It's really sharp, original, very funny and just a little bit harrowing, as basically, it tells the (true) story of his seven mothers.

I think that's enough of a teaser, don't you?

MCO 2006

LGBT activists too focused on marriage, coalition says Larry Buhl, PlanetOut Network

Friday, July 28, 2006 / 01:06 PM

SUMMARY: A controversial statement endorsed by nearly 250 gay leaders and straight allies says the LGBT movement is too narrowly focused on marriage.

Literally minutes after the Washington Supreme Court upheld a ban on same-sex marriage, some equality advocates were nonplussed by the release of a statement endorsed by nearly 250 gay leaders and straight allies that said the LGBT movement is too narrowly focused on gay marriage.

The statement -- "Beyond Same-Sex Marriage: A New Strategic Vision for All Our Families & Relationships" -- offers "a new vision for securing governmental and private institutional recognition of diverse kinds of partnerships, households, kinship relationships and families."

The 25-page document released Wednesday suggests that same-sex marriage is diverting too many resources that could be used to fight for equality for others who have no plans to marry.

"Marriage is not the only worthy form of family or relationship and it should not be legally and economically privileged above all others," says the statement, which outlines central principles such as separation of church and state, access to health care and housing and freedom from state regulation of sexual lives, gender choices and identities and expressions.

The statement's authors assert that focusing on marriage equality as a standalone issue has "left us isolated and vulnerable to a virulent backlash."

Signatories include current and former leaders of national gay rights organizations such as the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and GLAAD, along with novelist Armistead Maupin and straight figures such as scholar Cornel West, Ms. Magazine founder Gloria Steinem and essayist Barbara Ehrenreich.

The timing of the statement's release, coming on the heels of the Washington defeat and a nationwide marriage ad campaign, was coincidental, said Joseph DeFilippis, executive director of Queers for Economic Justice and a co-author of the statement. But DeFilippis suggested that a split in the community over gay marriage has been widening for years.

"A lot of people have told us, 'It's about time,' " DeFilippis said. "We support gay marriage as a matter of fairness and need to fight anti-gay initiatives.

"But when the debate is framed in terms of gay couples' rights, it ignores the complexities of how many gay people live and it denigrates and diminishes other kind of relationships that serve people well," DeFilippis said.

The document cited the U.S. Census' findings that a majority of Americans, not just gays, do not live in traditional nuclear families. It went on to say that single-parent households, senior citizens, blended and extended families, adult children caring for their parents, close friends or siblings living together and caregivers for those living with extended illness will all "be helped by separating basic forms of legal and economic recognition from the requirement of marital and conjugal relationship."

The statement did not single out any organizations as too marriage-focused, but it seemed to place national LGBT groups advocating for marriage equality in a slightly defensive posture.

"I found (the statement) a little strange, especially the term 'new strategic vision'," said Jon Davidson, legal director at Lambda Legal.

"Even organizations that do focus mostly on marriage say that marriage is not the only important thing, so I don't know exactly who the statement is talking about," Davidson said.

Davidson added that Lambda Legal did not disagree with the principles of the statement, and that, although marriage should be an option, "it represents a minority of the work that we're doing."

The Human Rights Campaign had a similar reaction. "We advocate on behalf of a lot of protections for LGBT people, such as hate crimes laws, domestic partner benefits and electing fair minded lawmakers," said Brad Luna, a spokesman for HRC. "If the coalition wants a broad discussion of the many kinds of rights that are important to the lives of LGBT people, we don't have a disagreement with that."

DiFilippis expressed skepticism. "I'm glad to hear national organizations saying they agree with us, but speaking for myself, I think some have driven the marriage issue and spent resources that dwarfs what's spent on other important issues such as domestic partnership and universal health care, and it would be disingenuous to say otherwise."

Since Wednesday, the number of signatories to beyondmarriage.org has doubled, indicating a groundswell of support for the idea of minimizing marriage to part of a wide array of gay rights, DiFilippis said. He added that the document also upset a lot of people.

Davidson downplayed the idea that the coalition will create a rift over marriage in the LGBT community. "I think the press attention is definitely focused disproportionately on marriage," he said, "but most organizations and many members of our community are not."

MCO 2006

The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive. To him... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create -- so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating. -Pearl S. Buck, novelist, Nobel laureate

(1892-1973)

Way true. Though I'm at the "lover is a god" stage at this particular moment in time. And it feels very much like we are also creating something, as we get to know each other, remove layer after layer (not that kind!--not yet at least) and experience these waves of pleasure as our affection seems to increase the more we know. I can't speak for him, but that sure hasn't often been my experience. It has, but many, many a time, the more I knew, the less I liked.

But even if we are "creating" something together, it's not something that will be marketable or win a Pulitzer. So I must keep at least one eye on the prize, as it were. But boy, am I frigging distracted.

I can't even muster up any upset over it. I've been in a non-stop good mood for almost a month. How often in life does that happen?

Yippee.

MCO 2006

Mmhhh...maybe I have a coffee table book in the making here.

Top Left: A cast-off, literally. Somebody just removed their cast and left it in the street.

Top Right: The open door to a apartment lobby revealed this really sweet painting of a Mexican village square.

Bottom Left: I picked up a torn-up promotional brochure for a spa, and spied how two pieces of it juxtaposed in my trash bag. Tres Picassoesque eh?

Bottom Right: Someone tore up a parking ticket.

It's this last one that fascinates me. Admittedly, sole among almost every alcoholic I've ever met, I always paid every parking ticket I ever got immediately. Cause they ALWAYS get you in the end. So I'm always amazed by the potency of the denial that seems to figure that if you tear up a parking ticket in enough little pieces, somehow it's going to go away.

This tearing up trash thing, by the way, is EXTREMELY annoying. It's bad enough I have to pick up after these bozos (well I don't have to, but bad enough anyone has to if they want a clean neighborhood) but do they have to make it harder by ripping things up into little pieces? It's like they think somehow they are littering less, when they are just subdividing the quantity into harder to clean portions.

The object of yesterday's blog was on Good Morning America. I take back everything I said, in fact I intend to get saved immediately. (My blog numbers dropped overnight, and so I guess I have to win back the huge Christian Fundamentalist readership that I had no idea I had!)

MCO 2006

You know, I hope Tim Lahaye and those evangelical yahoos are right. I hope all the self-righteous, fundamentalist, holier-than-thou, God-FEARING (as if God is to be feared--what a crock) hyper-religious, spiritually bankrupt, apocalyptic wannabe-martyrs get swept up and taken on to Judgement Day in one fell swoop, leaving us doubtful, questioning, secular but spiritual types to sit down with each other and work things out. Can you imagine how much faster things would get resolved when each party was coming from a place of "maybe I'm not any better than you, maybe I don't have all the answers, and maybe my God is the same God as yours, or maybe, in fact there is no God."

What the Rapturists don't get is that if they get dissappeared into the clouds, so will all the other religious righteous, be they Catholic, Muslim, Hindu, Jewish, Fascist, Communist or obscenely Capitalist. Because making money, or any authoritarian or dominating political dogma turned into an unquestioning belief system is just as fundamentally religious--in the worst sense of the word. And when all those "believers" get to the Pearly Gates, I don't even think God will bother to put them into re-education camps to learn tolerance and unlearn judgement. I think SHE will just send them on to the next life, reborn into a world that has remade itself without their toxic certainty.

So I will lift my glass of non-alcoholic sparkling cider to those who think themselves worthy of getting raptured (because it is those who think they are righteous who will indeed be taken) and bid you "Good Riddance. Hope those 72 virgins, or all-white country clubs, or Vishnu's arms, await."

Oh, by the way, all kids get to stay. We have some way cool lesbian mothers waiting to adopt them.

MCO 2006

P.S HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BIG SISTER. 39--AGAIN.

So I'm doing my dog walking/street cleaning thing, and I see a computer monitor on the street that has been there a few days. Overnight, someone decided to adorn it with a caption of sorts which gave me a chuckle. I'm adding another layer to it by posting a pic of it, so that something tossed becomes a bit of street art.

I'm going to TRY to make my entries a little shorter, because how many of you have the time, really to read as much as I write on a daily basis. Plus, I've got such a major case of Tonyitis, and I can't share too much about that, because lets face it: at first it's exciting news, gossip even, but if things keep going well, though it's endlessly interesting for the duo, it's not terribly interesting for those looking on. What's interesting are the fights, the drama, the breakups. No one calls their best friend to say "My husband and I got along wonderfully last night, had a great conversation, and excellent sex" -- unless, of course, it's the first time it's happened in 20 years.

But most of us--and I am no better than anybody else--find conflict much more compelling. Notice how there are so few documentaries on prosperous, peaceful times in history, and so many about war? How often do we see articles on happily married celebrities? How often do you watch someone parallel park smoothly compared to staring at an accident? It's just the way human beings are.

As for the state of the world: Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are. -Benjamin Franklin, statesman, author, and inventor

(1706-1790)

And if anyone is interested in reading about the gay perspective in Lebanon:

http://www.planetout.com/news/feature.html/?sernum=1845

Lastly, pray that the closest I get to a rolling blackout is that half-remembered drive home drunk a decade or so ago. I've even invited someone to spend the afternoon who is stuck in a non A/C sober living house. It's not an old lady, but it's something.

So much for the shorter entry. I didn't give that much of a try, did I?

MCO 2006

Geez, it's hotter than SNOT and just as humid. If I was a good Christian woman I'd invite some hapless victim of no air conditioning into my apartment, but even if the prospect of a total stranger in my living room wasn't incredibly uncomfortable, and even if there were just a sweet old person that I could somehow find, can you imagine in a big city any such person not being scared to death of being beaten or robbed or thinking it was a scam so cohorts could clean out her apartment? I guess that's my rationale for not trying, at least.

It's weird watching a great horrible historical tragedy unfold. The global warming thing reminds me of the early days of AIDS. It turned out to be as bad as the worst fears, and it looks like deja vu all over again. And this time, we're all going down.

And I'm sorry, I've heard the Israeli arguments, and I've seen the news, and they are collectively punishing the Lebanese people for the sins of Hezbollah. How can destroying $1 billion worth of general infrastructure and whole blocks of apartments be considered "pinpoint targeting?" Shame on Israel. Shame on Hezbollah, Hamas, and all terrorists as well, but isn't what is supposed to give Israel the "moral high ground" that they don't fight dirty? Shouldn't they have requested an international peacekeeping force before they engaged in military action? And I am not finger-wagging as an American, because we have nothing to be proud of, considering Iraq. This is the reaction of a citizen of the world, which I will always be before the citizen of any one country. Nationalism should be confined to sports, in my opinion.

On the personal front, I booked my trip back east and to Nashville, right after Labor Day. It's gonna be a long August waiting. Thank God for the Internet, and cheap long distance. Now they just need to invent a global air conditioner.

MCO 2006

Well, yesterday, my friend Michael did a photo shoot of me, to send the results to Tony, who was clamoring for pix. Michael did an excellent job, here are two examples. Tony sure thought so, boy, talk about a dream reaction.

I have to say that I have that man completely on the brain today, and it's all I can think, talk or write about. Every email he just gets more and more interesting and attractive and I'm convinced this is something huge, like my life might very well be divided into Before Tony and During Tony (and hopefully never After Tony.)

And yet I just can't gush anymore, because if I was you, I'd be thinking, "HELLO! DON'T YOU THINK YOU'RE GETTING A LITTLE HALF-COCKED OVER SOMEONE YOU HAVEN'T ACTUALLY MET YET?"

And the answer is, yes, I am. And don't you wish you was me?

MCO 2006

Okay, this is Mr. Tennessee. His name is Tony. Ain't he handsome? I love this black hat/white hat gig, like he's gonna pick me up on a white horse then make me his personal property in a barn or something. He's actually very sympatico, and funny, and friendly, but just between you and me, I find men who look just a litte bit mean a turn-on. Hell, I even like them to act a little bit mean. (And let's face it, I need some place putting into once in a while.)

What does he do? Glad you asked. Why he's a Captain of Industry, of course. (He runs his own Ebay store). Please, check it out , and if there's anything you need that you might otherwise be picking up at the mall, do it there. A percentage of any sales made by blog readers will go to the Marc and Tony post-Labor Day Vacation Fund along the Gulf Coast (just in time for hurricane season, of course.)

Hey, ONE ad in 2 years isn't bad! Any buyers will get unlimited access to the blog forever, and my undying thanks. Not to mention cool things like a gnarly watches and awesome sunglasses and various other excellent items at affordable prices. C'mon, pony up. Don't make me beg.

http://stores.ebay.com/Thomasay-Trading_W0QQcolZ4QQdirZ1QQfsubZ0QQftidZ2QQpZ2QQtZkm\

MCO 2006

I don't know if people are chuckling or rolling their eyes at my continued saga of the trash bin, but there's a final chapter.

I had a particularly heavy morning, I was carrying two way full bags, and as I approached where I usually dump them (halfway through my walk) I was confronted by the empty space (above left.) A little search led me to see the bin had dragged into a locked area (above right).

Of course, since I secretly believe the universe, does, in fact, revolve around me, my first thought was that it was a reaction to my filling the bin with the trash I pick up--the assumption on whoever's part being that I was dumping my personal trash. Thankfully, it took me about a half a second to remember the poor bin had been repeatedly abused in the recent past, overstuffed, dumped around and even torched, (all documented by yours truly.) Putting it behind the fence was a completely rational reaction, even if it means I must carry full bags of trash several blocks back to my own bin. It'll take more than that to stop me from my (self) appointed rounds.

I didn't share a strange, almost surreal visual I saw in the park two days ago. Two Hispanic men at a picnic table, each blowing a shofar. You know that twisted horn from the Old Testament? It was sort of annoying, as they just kept repeating that one plaintive wail for no reason I can see, but it's the incongruity of the whole thing I thought worth sharing.

I am now arranging a trip to Nashville for directly after my trip to see my Mom around Labor Day. I am very excited by the prospect, and hoping some sort of little short cashy job will fall into my hands between now and then.

MCO 2006

Three Notes Found By Near Park Bench in Los Angeles, Crumpled Up

#1

I have disturbing news and bad news.

Pick what you want to hear first.

LETS GO WITH THE BAD NEWS FIRST.

I lost a $20, so I need to come up on $20, When I was changing my clothes I lost 1 but I still have the other one. I’ll come up on $20 by tonight.

Now it’s time to hear the disturbing news.

My new job.

I think I’m going to be a stripper.

Please do not be angry at the choices I make.

#2

Mama drama

I can tell that your angry with me and just not saying anything about it. It isn’t my fault about the whole thing about you and Anthony, that’s something that tweety did. Remember you both have the same kind of beef with each other. I’m seriously sorry if I upsetted you. Don’t say theres nothing wrong because there is. Your mad at me its okay to be mad at me. I just wish you would express that anger at me. And let me know what I did wrong. Your not hurting. Just tell me when I fuck up. Let me know what it do

Love me.

#3

If he treats you better then okay as long as you’re happy I’ll be happy for you.

That’s kool/thanx mom

Love

Hollowkat me

I posted the notes so you could judge for yourself if they were written by the same person. Or is the mom telling the daughter she's going to be a stripper? In any case, I love finding unexpected poety amidst the refuse.

MCO 2006

So yesterday, I pitched an idea to my nephew, Keir, the filmmaker, and he thinks it would make a kickass documentary to film Jimmy coming out of jail, his reunion with Amber, and his readjustment to life on the outside, not to mention reuniting with his long-lost father. Unfortunately, when Jimmy gets out, Keir will be in Morocco filming his tea documentary, so I may just do it myself or with my friend David, if Amber and Jimmy are into it. If, by chance, any of my readers work in reality shows or are in a position to pitch an idea, please contact me.

Likewise if any of you work in the entertainment press or know someone who does, for the poster for his film "As the Call, So the Echo," my nephew needs a blurb or two. LIke "Heartwarming" ---The Nashville Register - or the like. If that's a possibilty, please contact me and we'll get you a copy of the film.

I figure I gave you a load to read yesterday and I should lighten up. Though if I feel any lighter I'm gonna float outta the room. If Mr. Tennesse can do to me in person what he can do to me with words--charming, funny, grounded, playful emails--than I will be officially a goner. The cool thing about feeling this way is that it's really infectious. I can see how everyone I meet could be the object of someone's mad passion, and I send that energy at them when I talk to them, and they feel it. Okay, it's not just "energy," but if a compliment occurs to me, I don't hold back. I have yet to meet anyone who doesn't enjoy a compliment, especially if it's "free," unattached to any agenda, and completely sincere. I love the little smile that creeps on to their face, and I've gotten several "I needed that"s, or "You made my day."

It's been a looooong time since I've been noticing the good in people way more than the bad---on odd sensation given all the bad, bad behavior on display in the Middle East. I have to add my voices to those who feel Israel's response is completely disproportionate. I know someone, a little, who lives in Beirut--George, who runs a gay support organization called Helem. He's a Christian who could have moved to Paris but wanted to reform his country from the inside. He, and millions of others--Christian, Maronite, Muslim, or none of the above, do not deserve to suffer for the sins of Hezbollah.

MCO 2006

So that Amber, she's a go-getter. She actually wheedles the name of Jimmy's long-lost father from Jimmy's mother--a name she'd always refused to give Jimmy. Luckily he has an uncommon name, and Amber tracks him down in Phoenix. And she'd called him. It did not start out auspiciously.

Amber: Hello, is this Ron Blankblank?

Ron: Yeah, who's asking?

Amber: I'm calling about my fiance, Jimmy Eastridge. He's looking for his father.

Ron: (wary) What's he want?

Amber: He doesn't want anything, just to know his father.

Ron: He wants to kick my ass, right?

Amber: NO, he doesn't want to kick your ass, but I'm gonna if you don't change your attitude!

Change his attitude he did, almost immediately. It turns out he'd done time himself, and was sure Jimmy hated him. But he explained that he loved "George" as Jimmy was initially named, and that he visited and played with him a lot in the first years, until he was chased off my his mother, in favor of the man she met, Jimmy's stepfather, who turned out to be abusive (big surprise).

As he explained this, he started crying. Amber said through his sobs he could be heard saying, "my boy, my boy...I've found my boy..." AND Jimmy, who thought he was an only child, has a half-brother, and a slew of aunts, uncles and cousins. AND Amber is moving to Arizona, and couldn't bring Jimmy with her he had some blood family there! (I had the same issue when I was going to transfer to Albuquerque to be with my sister),

Well, you all are knowing about this before Jimmy even, but of course a letter from Amber is on the way. He is going to FLIP OUT!

I tell you, my whole imprisonment is striking me in an entirely different light. If I hadn't been arrested, I might not only never have gotten sober, but Jimmy might have never found Amber again and had a real chance at breaking the cycle of incarceration.

AIN'T THAT COOL?

MCO 2006

I know probably no one really finds this interesting but me, but what the hell, maybe I'll get points for originality.

But look what happened to the trash bin I've been following (well I pass it ever day.) Someone tried to torch it last night. That's just...stupid.

I can't tell you how unbelievably often I pick up trash that has been tossed just a few feet away from a trash bin, mostly in the park. It just doesn't make sense to me. But I have a few theories. The prime one is that it is a form of misogyny. That's right, misogyny.

I think men litter alot more than women, because they consider it somehow unmanly to be too considerate in public. While this fear of effeminancy is often associated with homophobia, I think it runs deeper. Why are straight men so afraid of homosexuals, anyway? Not because they sleep with other men, but because that represents female behavior. At root of both littering and homophobia is society's elevation of the stereotypical male traits--aggression, self-centeredness, bravery (or insensitivity), directness, attention to substance and the big picture over typical female traits like sensitivity, nurturing, attention to detail, consideration, consensus, style and nuance.

You look at the world today, and whose "values" are running riot?

When men litter, they are saying, "look at me, I dominate my environment. I don't clean up, people clean up after me. I'm not going to carry this shit around in my car, or even a half a block to the next trash can." What they're not even aware of is that they are afraid exhibiting such consideration for others will somehow make them "wimpy" --another code wode for unmanly, i.e. like a woman. The trumpet their heterosexuality and yet devalue the object of their attention. I mean, really, we don't question it, but why should it bother anyone that a man acts "womanly" or a woman acts "manly" (though the former is considered far more objectionable.)

I'm not saying woman or gay men never litter, and that there aren't tons of well-raised, civic-minded straight men who don't litter. But the two others I have known to pick up trash were a woman and a gay man, and I've seen many more men drinking beer in the park than women, and picked up uncountable cans. (I have to make inferences because, in general, I notice people litter when no one's looking. They know it's wrong, but not enough to make an effort not to do it--just not to be seen doing it. That's why I object to the argument that people don't know any better. If they didn't they wouldn't do it when no one's looking.)

I'm slightly pissed because my trash picker broke and I had to buy a new one--again. $19.97! At the point of the point my funds are at their lowest. Oh well, better that then walking the dog without one. I've become "The Trash Haterer" - thought I don't think they'll be starting a show about me soon.

I'm saving some cool news for a separate entry.

MCO 2006

Is it just me or is the news getting increasingly alarming? Hell, I was thinking that I had to plan around global warming killing us all in 10 years or so, now I'm starting to wonder if I need to move things up a bit. "Things" meaning making every minute count. Which, of course, we should always do no matter what and I can do wherever I am, of course. It's just there's some things I want to experience before I die, no matter when I die, and I am feeling a slightly increased sense of urgency about doing them sooner rather than later. Like whitewater rafting, or skydiving, or, I don't know, holding hands while watching a good movie with someone you just wanna eat for breakfast. (My God, I sound like a Hallmark card. If Cher was here she'd slap me and tell me to "snap out of it!")

But hell, even if the Middle East cools down, and Kim Jong Il doesn't decide to become King of a dying world from a deep underground bunker in Pyongyang, there's still IS global warming. A phenomenon which would indicate L.A. is going to be underwater sometime in the next decade. So I guess I should start scoping out potential new digs inland, wouldn't you agree? Mmmmhhhh, can't go on either coast, Chicago has the great lakes, I needs a state with a lot of trees...Well, I'll think of something.

Last night I went to a benefit for a Recovery Center: "Beach, Blanket Boozer" It was genius, really, really funny. If anyone reading this had something to do with it, BRAVO.

MCO 2006

It's weird to be watching the world go to hell in a handbasket and be personally dancing the jig and singing a happy tune. Now I just need to manufacture some sort of travel allowance for myself. I wonder if God was trying to tell me something by accidentally sending me to the last half of a Debtor's Anonymous meeting this morning. Really nice people, and interesting take on the whole issue of money, but I don't think it's for me. And thankfully, I have no debt. I guess what I need is a "Disability Anonymous" Program for people who have become addicted to not working, as in working to make money. I have no trouble working, if you include writing and picking up trash many hours a day.

The occasional reactions to that I get are getting interesting. One drunk Armenian said to me: "You do a good job." One black guy (think a Richard Pryor character), in the park, asked three times in a row what I was doing, because he couldn't quite believe it. "What? You what? Picking up trash! Damn!" He was very amused. And finally said "that's a good thing you're doing man!" and then when another guy came by to sit next to him, pointed to me and said "He's picking up trash!" like I was just about to flap my arms and start flying.

What is sad is that it is so noteworthy, as in something you don't see. I don't mean praiseworthy, because now that I'd doing it, its so not a big thing, especially since, as I mentioned above, I do get disability and I could probably manage a job (I do apply more than I mention here by the way, but not in a systematic, perservering way) so in my head, it's sort of workfare. What's sad is that it took me so long to get past the immediate idea that it was just not done. Like because you didn't create the litter, were somehow being a chump or a loser in cleaning it up. Or perhaps it was my fear of being perceived that way. And it's sad that 99.9% of people seem to feel that way too--although one very bug-eyed, ultra-white man in the park declaimed excitedly: "Oh! How civic-minded you are! I bet you're not a republican! And I bet your dog hates republicans! Hell, I wouldn't vote for Bush if I was drunk or stoned even!" to which I replied "especially if you were drunk or stoned, I hope"-- a state which I thought might be a little redundant in his case.

In other nice news, I got an absolutely lovely letter from Jimmy thanking me profusely for the blog, as he was over the moon with happiness at having refound Amber, which was completely transforming his perspective about getting out. That felt really really good--almost as good as getting some torso shots from Mr. Tennessee--ooh baby, I like it like that!

MCO 2006

Well, once again, neither Condeleeza Rice nor Ehud Olmert have seen fit to call me about my ideas for fixing the Middle East. I can't say I'm surprised, but I am disappointed. You'd think they'd have learned by now.

I finally spoke over the phone to TNT (Mr. Tennessee) last night, and I was distinctly not disappointed. Of course if I spend much more of my time composing and reading emails to and from him I may never finish the book or screenplay whose record-breaking profits will make the gap between Nashville and Los Angeles inconsequential. But I can't manage to reproach myself too much about my negligence. It's been a long-ass time since I've been romanced, hell, since I've even been genuinely excited over opening up a email. (There was someone, in my using days, but it wasn't really reciprocal. I wanted him and he wanted to have fun. That ended up being really much more painful than not--although we did have our share of genuine good time and conversations, the altered states notwithstanding.)

But my head-in-the-cloudedness is kind of funny. This morning I completely overslept, having a wonderful dream of biking downhill for miles and miles (though I remember thinking, how the hell am I going to get back?). Then I completely mucked up the coffee machine, getting grounds and water all over (I never do that) and almost scraped the hell out of my car pulling out of the driveway (I have to back out between a long cement wall and a long row of cars.) Dizzy am I.

But I have this spring in my step that I really was afraid I would never have again, really. So even if Mr. TNT proves to be the wrong kind of dynamite, the worst case scenario is that it'll blow up in my face--not blow me up. I've already done that--with myself depressing the plunger, and once is plenty for any lifetime, thank you.

I'm all welded back together, thanks, and ready to go for a nice long ride.

MCO 2006

This photo of Beirut was so striking, so artistic and apocalyptic all at once, that I just had to blog it. I hope the Los Angeles Times or Adnan Hajj or Reuters doesn't send me a cease and desist order (I'm unclear on whether I'm violating a copywright by reprinting it) but that's the advantage of being fairly obscure.

The disadvantage of being fairly obscure is that people in power don't read you and get some good ideas from you. Too bad, because I would like to point out a face-saving way for Israel to get out of this mess. Can't they declare the prisoners they hold as prisoners of war, then let the Palestinians define the Israeli soldiers they hold the same way, and do a swap? But instead of being forced to release hundreds, declare that since one Israeli and one Palestinian life have equal value, insist on a one for one exchange? Surely there are three prisoners they hold they'd be willing to let go for their three soldiers.

Don't you see that they'd score propaganda points by refusing to agree that one Israeli life is worth more than one Palestinian life? After all, they've wanted the Arabs to stop murdering innocent civilians for years, can they really call it "terrorism" when armed soldiers are kidnapped or even killed? Why is it not terrorism when Israeli kills Palestinian fighter or civilians, but terrorism when Israeili armed soldiers are attacked?

That said, I have no affection for anyone extremist or fundamentalist, Christian, Arab or Jew. They all hate gays. I would just say a pox on all your houses, but the truth is that I hate the ignorance, not the ignorant, and that's what it is, ignorance. I heard an Israeli involved in a pan-cultural theater project say that he would never look at Palestinians the same way again--now that he knew some personally. Nationalism feeds both militarism and the dehumanization of the "other"--a lethal combination.

My solution to world strife would be that everyone adopt the same second language to be taught in school--sign language. That way we could all talk to each other with the same accent, as it were--except deaf people, of course. Then maybe we would reduce the sense of "foreignness" and "otherness" that fuels our tribablistic tendencies to divide the world into "us" and "them."

I'm still enjoying my own personal hotspot--which is raging out of control with no fire engines in sight. At this rate there won't be a tree left in Tennessee soon.

MCO 2006

Well, my poor buddy Wayne. He's right in the middle of those horrific wildfires in Yucca Valley, where I stayed back on Memorial Day and went horseback riding and running with the dogs. His house is fine, but he's had to take in a gang of horses and other evacuees, and says "everything is burnt." And it's not over yet.

And then, of course, are the wildfires in Israel (Gaza and Lebanon), Mumbai, Iraq, Afghanistan, and who knows how ugly the electoral dispute could get in Mexico. I can't manage to get upset about any of it, though. Yes, I'm sad for the world, and I find the role U.S. foreign policy has played in much of it lamentable, but I'm not longer allowing any of it to personally depress me.

Well that's not entirely true. It's not that I'm not letting it upset me as much as I've got my own wildfire to preoccupy me--the good kind. I'm enjoying a back and forth email exchange full of flirtatious banter and storyswapping several times a day with my oh-so-handsome Tennessean who shall remain nameless until and if we make it pass the embryonic stage.

On the one hand, I've been around the block a lot in this life, and I am normally coldly realistic and even pessimistic about the likelihood of anything like this taking root. On the other hand, I'm too busy taking flight to care. He's really, really charming and I realize how long it's been since I got this kind of attention from someone I really wanted to get this kind attention from (and I give as good as I get, thank you). I swore to myself I wasn't gonnna blog about it for fear of jinxing it, but I need to be honest rather than say things like "I'm distracted." If I don't make an accurate report on this blog about what's going on with me, the rest of my day is a little off-kilter. This is my anchor.

Of course I could be crashing next week, but that's always the risk one takes, isn't it? At least I'm willing to take risks again.

Now, for something completely different, this is genius:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exDo2SMdB-0&search=jesus%20penis

MCO 2006

Aren't my niece and nephew adorable? And that millionaire wannabe pretending to be sitting in front of his own boat is yours truly.

I'm all over the place in my head this morning, in a good way. But I don't feel particularly coherent, blog-wise. I will share that I could have sworn that two of the overflowing garbage bins that I mentioned in the phone call from the mayor's office were emptied two days earlier than their normal schedule. Which doesn't mean the overflow from one of them was also cleaned up, leaving a horrible mess still that I photographed, but don't want to post next to my beautiful niece and nephew.

I will leave you with some recent quotes I've collected:

Religion--freedom--vengeance--what you will, a word's enough to raise mankind to kill. -Lord Byron, poet (1788-1824)

Being a friend means knowing that tact and candor are equally valuable and having enough discretion to understand when one is required and not the other - Tim Rutten (LA Times)

Adulthood is the ever-shrinking period between childhood and old age. It is the apparent aim of modern industrial societies to reduce this period to a minimum. -Thomas Szasz, author, professor of psychiatry (1920- )

It does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no God. -Thomas Jefferson, third US president, architect and author

(1743-1826)

One of my greatest pleasures in writing has come from the thought that perhaps my work might annoy someone of comfortably pretentious position. Then comes the saddening realization that such people rarely read. -John Kenneth Galbraith, economist (1908-2006)

Some secrets are too big for even the deepest pockets. (Marc Olmsted, 1958- )

MCO 2006

So I go to Ralph's this morning (not a man, unfortunately, but a grocery store) and I'm thinking about what to blog, and as I'm leaving, the cell rings. It was--are you ready--the Mayor's office. Not the Mayor (not yet, at least) but one of the people who work in the Mayor's Office, a young woman by the name of Emily. Emily was responding to my letter wailing about the trash problem in Hollywood. Well, not letter, so much, but whatever I could fit in the 100 or so word box you fill in when you write to the Mayor on line.

"So, your concern was about trash?" Emily inquired nicely. "Yes," I replied, "specifically..." and then I went on, non-stop, for about 10 minutes. I wasn't haranguing, salivating or remotely angry, I swear. I just could hear her typing away madly on the computer, and I felt like this was a golden opportunity. I mean, really, L.A. is as big as what, Denmark? (Population of Denmark is 5.4 million, so not far off) Does the Prime Minister of Denmark's office call when someone complains about potholes in Copenhagen? Maybe it does, but it was a big deal to me. So I named names--street names that is, where the problem is worst--and listed my suggestions and questions--the whole shebang. And then at the end, I thanked her and the mayor profusely, and offered to be helpful in any way shape or form.

Let me tell you, people, democracy is way underappreciated in this country. I don't know if I'll see results, but my impression of Villaraigosa is that he really loves this city, really wants to make things better, and that he may be open to using his bully pulpit to try to make a dent in this issue, and hopefully much more.

I'm very happy, because, to be honest, this cleaning up thing has been taking up more and more of my time and energy. (Oh my God, the Mayor's is going to visit the block after I've just finished a pass and go, "I don't think the litter problem is so bad...") It's really not fun, per se, but it's one of the last bastions of instant gratification available to me, I guess. I pick up the street, and it's clean, and for a 1/2 a day at least, I feel powerful and effective, like I make an impact on the world in a measurable, distinct way. Poor Gaza seems bored to tears, but it has to be more stimulating than laying around here watching me write. At least he gets to check Pee-mail.

MCO 2006

P.S. You may think, from the above, that my apartment is clean as a whistle. No such luck. I guess it's because there's nothing out of the ordinary about cleaning your own house, whereas, there is NO ONE, ever, that I see besides me picking up trash (as opposed to returnable cans) on the street. I guess I need to feel unique, crave the silent attention I get from passersby, who very very rarely say anything, but do notice. I get off on imagining them back at home, staying: "I saw the weirdest thing today" -- as they try to puzzle out what the motivation of this guy must be. THAT's fun.

Boy, it's really great to be an uncle instead of a parent. You get way more upside than downside. I don't know how my sister does it.

And my niece and nephew are pretty good kids, nothing worse than the occasional mini-meltdown or backseat bickering. But raising kids today is just a whole 'nother ball of wax from when I was a kid. My siblings, and to a lesser but significant degree, the neighborhood, did much of my child-rearing. (Large families were more common than small ones, these days the ratios are reversed. And we never worried about child-molesters--though maybe we should have.) Fathers were at a work and not expected to be hands-on, mothers were struggling just to keep the house running. We played with each other and wth the kids next door and up the street. These days, parents are so much more engaged with their kids on a day-to-day basis, and it is exhausting. Especially when, like me, you're used to paying attention to yourself and your own needs 24/7.

In particular, I've been trying to put the serenity prayer into reality for the past 18 months, accepting the things I cannot change, trying to change the things that I can, and trying to figure out the difference between the two. Kids are the anti-serenity prayer. They have great difficulty accepting what they cannot change and knowing the difference between what's changeable and not. And the parents are forced to play God, in a way I don't think they used to. Limits were, I think, more imposed by circumstance and naturally clear to kids of my generation because there was so much less choice. You had a pair of sneakers or shoes to wear, and that was it. This was dinner, this was desert, this was the TV program you watched, give or take a channel. No fuss, no muss, no 10,000 options to choose from, no guilty parents scared to death of being perceived as arbitary, unjust or dictatorial.

And it's easy for me to sit and judge and be so certain how I would do things differently, but I probably wouldn't. You are a product of your time and culture. But I'm delighted to let others do the childrearing. Just having them in this world is an act of supreme courage--or folly.

MCO 2006

This is an excerpt from an email to a friend describing my weekend, and I realize it pretty much covers it.

We didn't go to Disneyland pe se--one day (Friday) for my sister was plenty. We went to Disney "town"-- a mall basically, to buy outfits for the kids and create bears. At one point you see them stuff an empty one by sticking a tube up its butt filled with fluffy white material. You can imagine how amusing I found this exercise.

Then we went to Long Beach and spent the afternoon at Seal Beach, which was lovely, and Saturday night went to the Los Alamitos race track, because they had dachsund races for charity in between the horse races. But that was fun and my sister and I won 6 dollars!

My sister and I had a few spirited discussions about child rearing techniques--it's a lot different for them than it was for us, that's for sure.

Then yesterday we went to my friend Andrea's and Erica (my sis) went to Chino to visit a prisoner. The kids were little angels, suddenly, sans Maman to challenge and torment constantly, and we had a very good day. I came back last night and found my phonephobia worse than ever--it was easier to type this now that describe it all via Verizon.

Yes, we watched the World Cup on a GIANT plasma screen HDTV at Andrea's--Great Fun--I must check the French headlines today and see what the hell Rossi said to Zidane set him off! "Down with France!?"

MCO 2006

I'm really starting to wonder if we gays should be clamoring to join a questionable insititution like marriage. What I really think we should be doing is advocating choice: a range of variable contractual agreements both gays and straights could use as economic protection for themselves and their families.

I think marriage-for-life places terrible pressure on relationships to seek a certain kind of compatibility long-term that tends to be very rare. I think kids need to think of their parents' relationship as independent from their parental responsibilities, so that even if Mom and Dad decide not to be husband and wife, or husband and husband and wife and wife, anymore, they are less likely to think it is somehow a reflection of their love for their kids.

For thousands of years marriage was an economic agreement, and in much of the world in still is. I think we should return to that, and allow romantic love to be something that occurs in and out of the institution. I think close friends should be able to get married if it is economically beneficial for them.

Most of all, we have to find a way to allow kids to benefit from their parents being able to marry while lightening the stigma of divorce that is fairly inevitable and wreaks such havoc. If parents just, for example, decided not to renew their seven-year contract, wouldn't that be a lot less traumatic than divorce? Frankly, a .esbian or gay man who is 60 who looks back on his life and has had three relationships averaging, say, 5 years each, is generally thought of in our community to have a good track record in relationship. A straight man or woman with three ex-wives or husbands is thought to have three failed marriages. They should be changing their perspective, not us!

Some might cry: "How unromantic!" But isn't it, in fact the opposite? As Joni Mitchell said "we don't need no paper from the city hall keeping us tied and true." Instead of lamenting that gays can't do what straights do (even though we should, of course, have the right to do so), isn't it an opportunity to reframe the argument, and become an example they try to emulate?

MCO 2006

So Governor Schwarzenegger and his opponent, Phil Angelides, have come out with dueling plans to improve California prisons, especially the healthcare crisis therein. I have two things to say about that: 1) It's high time. 2) Good luck.

Let me explain why I'm so pessimistic. The dirty little secret about prisoner healthcare is that for most inmates, even the crappy care they get inside is a step up from what they got on the outside. Out on the street, most are substance-dependent and most are uninsured. Inside, they get substandard care, but they get care. Many of the AIDS patients are getting treated for the first time. For all inmates, they're eating and sleeping enough, so don't get as sick in the first place. And as violent as prisons can be, for many, they're far less dangerous then on the outside.

Given that context, it's going to be very very difficult for politicians to raise the level of care to a point that inmates are better treated than the vast majority of the uninsured not in prison. And frankly, I don't think that's even right or fair. As much as I believe that the War on Drugs is wrong and the main culprit in prison overcrowding (which, in turn, is the main culprit in overwhelming the inmate medical care system), I don't think lawbreakers should get better healthcare than the poor schmuck who works for minimum wage and has steered clear of illegal methods for fast cash he desperately needs to care for his family. He's the one who ignores his own health problems until they become so serious he has no choice but to go to the E.R.. He's the one forced to take his little girl or boy to the doctor for cash then sinks under the medical bills.

In general, the doctors and nurses in prison are drawn from the bottom 10 or 20% of their graduating class, but why not, they have to work somewhere too, and they passed their exams like everybody else. Frankly, given their gargantuan workloads, they do an amazing job. They desperately need more resources to do the job right. But so do the staff at free clinics and wherever Medicaid is the primary form of payment. Our emergency rooms are in a state of perpetual crisis, they need more money every bit as much as prison hospitals do.

Whether Arnold or Phil win in November, the politicos need to reform the draconian drug laws (and Three Strikes) and get the prison population back below capacity. Then they need to concentrate on medical care for all uninsured Californians--we can't wait for National Health Insurance. A rising tide will lift all boats.

I'm off to Disneyland tomorrow to see the niece and nephew, and then up at Santa Monica Sunday for the World Cup and to babysit at my friend Andrea's while my sister visits a pen pal at Chino I hooked her up with when I was there. (That's a whole 'nother story.) So you may just have a day off from me over the weekend.

Of course, I've made such promises before--and I never keep them.

Oh, hello to a new friend from Tennessee. (Insert Smiley Face) This man gives me the vapors, and that's just from his pictures.

MCO 2006

Today I once again find it hard to bridge the gap between what I think should matter to me and what actually matters to me on an emotional level. What I think should matter are all the right things: loving thy neighbor, being a good citizen, a good friend, doing service, helping others get sober, being productive and creative and leaving the world a better place. What actually matters to me, emotionally, is that I get a lot of attention because I'm considered funny and/or talented. There are moments where I completely agree with Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada" : "Everyone wants to live like we do." I want flashbulbs and limos and to be quoted on Page Six. I want to look great in a tux and be interviewed by Joan Rivers on the red carpet. I want to be on Oprah's Book club, and I want her to match me up with Nate Berkus or Anderson Cooper. I want each book of mine to be eagerly anticipated--no, even better, I want to write one book that is so good that a second is not necessary because I can't top it--like "Gone With the Wind" or "To Kill a Mockingbird." I want to live in gorgeous apartments and give away tons of money and have clinics named after me. I want a big-ass unpaid obituary in the New York Times.

When I get like this I swing back and forth between hating myself for being too lazy to write 6 hours a day so that I could actually finish that transcendental book, and thinking that I am being hopelessly grandiose and insecure, that the notoriofabulous life would not make me any happier than picking up trash and petting my dog and blogging does. Of course I end up giving 100% to neither scenario, but that's okay. I don't really expect myself to become either Mother Theresa or Philip Roth. But I do wonder why someone who had a good, loving childhood, and who doesn't think he has anything to prove, and who knows it "all" doesn't mean anything, can be overwhelmed by moments of craving to be some sort of star. As if being "loved" by a million strangers would mean you had more worth than being loved by however many would show up at your memorial service.

As usual, it all drives me to a nap.

MCO 2006

Yesterday I went to a bangin' sober pool party. Man o' man, I swear to God, I think the best looking men in this city have decided to give up their wicked ways. It was a challenge to enjoy myself and not sink into feeling of inadequacy and intimidation, except that I knew damn well there were very few who were not fighting off the same feeling. That's just gay human nature. Even if you're very handsome or well-built or both, you get totally used to yourself in the mirror, and even if you sort of know that you "look good" in a general way, in a specific situation you tend to assume that next to that guy you look like shit. Well, if not shit, certainly no one who would be chosen over the porn stars on the other side of the pool. (As if that's the choice.)

So, realizing that everyone was assuming I was as self-confident as I assumed they were, I decided to just act as if I thought I fit in perfectly well and there were plenty of men who would be delighted to flirt with me. And that's exactly what we did. Talking, joking, and just a little touching (easy enough at a pool party) topped off with making sure they had my number--and that was it. And that was just fine. In the old days the party wasn't a success unless it finished with mutual mucous membrane contact. Whereas these days, the times that still happens always seem to be with someone who just got clean or who is just about to slip. The guys who interest me now have some time under their belt and, like me, have come to understand instant gratification as old behavior. We'd rather cultivate each other over time, and when it's time to act, we'll enjoy being more than piece of meat to each other. (Not that I won't always have fond memories of mutual sexual objectification and exploitation. And will certainly never judge it--or anything two consenting adults do together--for that matter. I've just grown out of it.)

MCO 2006

The was an article in yesterday's Los Angeles Times http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-hooker3jul03,1,5392374.story?ctrack=1&cset=true about the Mary Magdalene Project, a community in the valley that gives housing, rehab, and life skills training to prostitutes who want to change their life. I wasn't a prostitute, but we both did what we did in service to drugs, that's for certain. So I emailed them and offered to volunteer. Some of the women live with their kids there, and they need mentoring and tutoring as well. They are supported by private contributions, so, check them out if you have some extra change, (www.mmp.org) or the time or willingness to volunteer.

And you know what I wish for on this Fourth of July? I wish for a country in which any prostitute, or drug dealer (99% of both who are addicts), can get treatment on demand, and that those who supply the treatment do not have to spend half of their time on fund-raising and grant-hunting from private sources. It cost 20,000/yr to incarcerate someone, treatment certainly costs no more, if not less. It is a shameful misallocation of resources.

The psychology that addiction, or what people do to support their addiction, represents some sort of moral failing that needs to be punished is so completely backward.

Believe me, addiction is its own punishment.

MCO 2006

I was looking through some of my books, searching for excerpts of "good writing" to send to my buddy Mike in prison, and realized that alot of what I own I have not read. In fact, a lot of writers I recommend to others I've barely read. Sometimes I think I should do nothing for a year but read. Turn off the TV, and 8 hours a day, like a job, become a well-read man, dammit. Not a dilettante who can bluff his way through any dinner party conversation because he's read a lot of reviews, but someone who's actually read the damn books he's talks about.

I'm seriously thinking of spending a year in Paris, maybe more. French TV has made me ache for the French way of life, and the European mindset. There are a few things that need to happen first though. I need to go there with a financial cushion, I'd like to at least have one book with a publisher if not published, and I need some more sober time under my belt. (Right now I think I would find drinking red wine in Paris still far too alluring a prospect.) I'd also have to find a good home for Gaza, and frankly only one of my sisters would do, because you keep family with family.

But I wanted to put the idea out there in the universe. I want the reality of it in the future to draw me forward to it and help me align my actions toward its fruition. I've watched my roommate bitch and moan at his life for the past six months, but nonetheless he did place into his future a vision of making the hair salon where he works into a place to be proud of. In the last two weeks, in a burst of energy, he's been painting, putting in shelves, buying new furniture for it and basically just making it happen. It's like he went from waiting for his life to choose him to deciding to choose his life. I think, on some level, he needed to process his lover's death fully, and the grief came in the form of an extended depression and lethargy. But finally, he got sick and tired of being sick and tired and now he's got a new spring in his step.

I thought I'd inspire him, but it turns out, he's inspiring me.

MCO 2006

P.S. From The Onion. This is hysterical: "Homosexual Save Family From Fire"

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/30366?issue=4227&special=1996

I know, you're probably thinking: "Is he gonna talk trash again?' The answer is yes, but be patient, there's a payoff.

So first, someone throws out a big-ass black futon around the corner. It lies on the street for a week. Then, oddly they--or someone (not me)---decides to stuff it into the dumpster. (Top left corner) This was not too bright, because afterwards, there is no room in the dumpster for all the trash from the building. (Top right corner) And the haulers are not going to be thrilled about an item in the dumpster which is supposed to be taken away by the city. It'll be interesting to see if then get off their truck to clean up all the trash around the dumpster--including the couch.

Anyway, I decided, at the very least, this was an opportunity for me to create art. The two images at the bottom are Photoshop transformations of the images at the top.

Which brings me to another unintended consequence. A little while back I wrote about a women named Amber who loccated through the blog (via Google) her ex-great love, Jimmy, with whom I was in Chino. Jimmy was a Big Kahuna in the dorm, a handsome rake who was my protector of sorts--though thoroughly heterosexual. Anyway, Amber hesitated, but after many emails between us, she finally wrote Jimmy. After some passionate exchanges, she finally visited him yesterday at Chino, and is visiting him again today as we speak.

Suffice to say, the flame has been rekindled, but both parties are rather older and wiser. Jimmy wants more than anything to stay out of prison, but needed someone or something to stay out of trouble for. Amber had to grow up herself, and learn to stand on her own without a man--which she has done for several years while raising three boys, all of whom seem to have their shit together and none of whom have followed a stereotypical path of boys raised by single mothers.

Jimmy is the quintessential Rebel Without a Cause. But now he's 37, and his angry-young-man testosterone no longer rages. He has been beaten down by prison, and he no longer has anything to prove by defying authority. If he stays off of drugs, he might actually transform his life, finally, with the help of a good woman. (Amber is completely alert to all the potential pitfalls ahead, and she's smart about limits, boundaries and taking care of herself first.)

Amber might have relocated Jimmy without the blog, but even if she'd looked on the websites that locate prisoners, she told me it made a huge difference that I was able to reassure her that he was still a good guy and that she should go ahead a contact him. He's got a tough road ahead, but I'd say his chances of making it have increased exponentially. He had so little hope about his life and his future. He did tell me, ironically, about this woman with young boys who he once loved, but he certainly never imagined he would ever see her again. (Her ex-husband screwed it all up.)

I was in prison for a mere 10 months. Jimmy has been in and out for 20 years, starting with stays in Juvenile Hall. Maybe my stay inside was just as much about helping alter Jimmy's life course as mine. Whether or not it was karmically intentional, it is completely possible to draw the conclusion that had I not gone in, Jimmy would not have been anywhere as likely to stay out as he is now. He may even have some real happiness ahead for the first time in his life.

And all I did, really, was do what I do--which is write. This tells me to keep on doing what I do. Because you just never know how the Law of Unintended Consequences will work.

MCO 2006