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.

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Winter as it is now

Flocks of squawking wild parrots flying from tree top to tree top.

Large circles of gold underneath gingkoes that have finally given up on all their leaves.

Grandstands filling up every available free space along Colorado Blvd. in Pasadena.

Men and women huddled together under the heat lamps of a restaurant�s outdoor patio, laughing as they toast each other good health.

Cats burrowing under cover of blankets and sheets at night for warmth.

Displays of wrapping paper on sale! at seemingly each and every store.

Standing in an Apple store trying not to stare at a man purchasing not one, not two, but three U2 black and red special edition iPods. Three.

People who live in outlying high desert areas complaining that there is actual ice on their car windshields each morning.

Weather that has no clear idea of what it wants to be, warm and toasty one day, cold and windy the next; the only consistent being that nights are substantially cooler than day.

Irises flowering in plums of purple and violets alongside withered and spent paperwhites.

Homes glowing frighteningly bright in holiday displays that are unrestrained by both energy requirements and good taste.

Hillsides wearing coats of greens and growth instead of the shaggy browns they are cloaked in for much of the rest of the year.

more later,
nico

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