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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
mon 01/06/2003
a suggestion of a tea room and intertwined inebriated lesbians
Right now, Southern California can be summed up as sunny and windy. Nothing says dead of winter January like a heat wave accompanied with tree collapsing gusts of high winds. I haven't been paying attention to the news, so I have no idea how long it will be before we return to our normal winter weather of cool days with occasional rain. The heat is a nice change though.
I have not been posting with regualarity here because I feel fairly bleagh about the journal. Heck, I'm feeling tired and worn about everything in my life right now. I don't feel like writing about this though. A lot of stuff happened over the holidays, most of it boring and mundane, so let's play catch up once again and see if I can pull anything interesting from the past few weeks:
Middle aged bachelor sons are just shy heterosexuals, because this is the 30's after all: Mornings at Seven is the latest play at the Almanson. Unlike other things John and I have seen recently, this was a "straight" production. That is, no major rewrites, upgrading, modernizing, or resetting. It was actually something the playwright would recognize. The play concerned family relationships, secrets, and surprises. It was enjoyable.
In the audience that night were several rather sizable, presumably gay men. A couple of whom were attractive in a certain big bad bear kind of way. Also in the audience was someone who neglected to turn off their cell phone; an older man who resembled some English actor who for the life of me, I cannot remember the name of; two queeny know it all/experts on everything who lacked volume control; and a fur wearing, older, white woman who glared at me when we passed each other in the lobby during intermission. Maybe she was afraid I was going to douse her in red paint.
Migraine inducing music: Las Ketchup. Annoying. Just sharing.
It was suggested that I would place more value on weddings if I could actually get married: My co-workers know enough to not ask me for suggestions about where to hold a wedding, because I invariably suggest having a potluck backyard wedding, and using the money they save as a down payment on a house. Invariably I get looked at funny, then ignored.
John's younger brother and the fiancee who's pseudonym I can't remember finally did the marriage thing. They had a backyard wedding, but no potluck for them, this shindig was catered. The money they didn't spend on a fancy to do was used as the down payment for the house and backyard we were all in. It was the second marriage for both of them, so they weren't concerned with repeating a big wedding.
It was a nice day, and a nice ceremony.
The lone straight man was teased a bit about staring at the twister game: The night of the wedding, our friend Denise threw herself a birthday party. John and I arrived fairly late, but apparently right when the party was in full swing. The highlight of the night may have been the half drunk, rowdy, party gals playing twister. I don't recall ever hearing someone say "If you stick your ass in my face one more time I'm gonna bit you!" Well, not in public anyway.
Perhaps the highlight of the night was when it suddenly started pouring down rain, forcing everyone indoors. I'm sure I heard Denise yell something about taking shoes off because of her new white carpet. Then again, maybe she was just trying to get a round of nude twister going like the rowdiest of the party girls had suggested.
Possibly, the highlight of the night was when the sudden rain storm turned into a sudden windstorm and several large branches came crashing down from the jacarandas lining the streets, narrowly missing several cars and big assed trucks.
John and I weren't at the party for very long, but it seems that there was a lot going on that night.
The kitten: Spanky kitten has been conducting experiments with water. She has determined that if she sticks her paw in the water bowl, it will get wet. She has also demonstrated that putting leaves and toys in her water bowl will result in those objects getting wet. I'm hoping she'll stop before everything she can carry ends up getting dunked.
Happy, shiny toilets: A friend showed me a Morning Musume video a couple weeks back. I have no idea what the song was about, it being in Japanese and all, but the visuals were, um, interesting. The video was from when the band was only an eleven member girl band, so picture eleven, young, Japanese women singing in a large room wearing navyish uniforms. Now picture my reaction when I realize the large room is an enormous mens bathroom on a naval ship. They sing, they mop the floor, they strike poses while huddled around toilets in bright neon colored toilet stalls, and I'm staring at the screen totally slack jawed not believing my eyes.
A storm hits and the band rush up on deck and strike more poses while battling nature. After the storm subsides, they all go back to the men's room, dress in brightly colored disco clothes and dance. In response, the urinals lining the walls light up and a disco mirror ball descends from the ceiling. They sing some more, they pose some more, I think they say peace in English a few times, and the video ends.
I still have no idea what to think.
A final embarrassing bit involving the Spanky kitten: I once made a frivolous comment about being slightly fearful of Spanky's habit of attacking any available body part. My fear was warranted. A few days ago, I was reaching for something under the bed, when Spanky ran into the room and seeing something that she had never seen before decided to swipe it with her paws, claws out. Yes, I was naked, and yes, I moved very, very fast.
John found this hilarious. I did not.
more later,
nico
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