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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Lady Penelope's Car Rocks! and other facts we must calmly accept.

I was at a party Saturday night, when someone told me that I looked like a writer. They didn't tell me that because I looked particularly learned or literary, but rather because I was sitting quietly observing everything that was going on around me. I was a little tired that night, but the truth is I do tend to be a bit passive and quiet at parties. I am not always the most outgoing of people, which is a little odd, because back in my old activist days, I lead meetings, spoke out and was generally a very outgoing extrovert person. I have changed over the years I guess.

Anyway, the weekend:

Friday 04/27/01:

I was farmer nico for most of the morning and afternoon. I weeded, got some seedlings out, planted some cosmos and geraniums (well, pelargoniums technically) and laid out the beginning of what will eventually be a new set of steps at the base of the right side of the house.

After I got tired of digging around in the dirt, I visited a local bookstore to buy a birthday present for TomP. He was throwing himself a party to celebrate turning thirty-four. After wandering around in a shoppers daze for a while, I realized that not only was it already past three, but that I hadn't eaten anything that day and I was getting grumpy and I had better eat something soon. So I bought a collection of quirky comedic one act plays and grabbed a very late lunch at the Mexican place across the street. I bought the book because it seemed interesting and had nothing to do with Film, science fiction, Art, animation, travel or comics. In other words, it had nothing to do with any of TomP's assorted hobbies or interests. I had decided ages ago that he doesn't need any encouraging when it comes to his hobbies. Actually, the same is true for Kristen as well. For some reason I seem to have nothing but friends who are seriously into their hobbies and projects.

Saturday 04/28/01:

His party was dinner at a brewery place in Burbank. There was the usual collection of co-workers and friends. In this case that meant a mixture of teachers, assorted post production film people, comic book artist/creators, publicity folk, their kids and me. This mix did lead to some interesting conversations that night, including:

An explanation of how the Thunderbirds is the best show ever!

(don't know about the best, but it is F.A.B.)

The relative merits of assorted outr� german films from the 20's.

(only recognized a few of the titles mentioned)

A short discussion of how cool Lady Penelope's car from the Thunderbirds was.

(it was a great car and also a nice shade of pink as well if I'm remembering correctly)

A discussion about nonlinear storytelling in assorted media.

(started with comics, ended with Memento )

An explanation of how the soon to end Starman comic is the best ever!

(again, don't know about the best, but it was cool while it lasted)

The relative merits of assorted digital film editing software.

(a bit, no, way beyond me)

Which small press comics are worth reading.

(a lot apparently)

The relative merits of assorted closed captioning programs/software.

(um, OK)

The evolution of language and consensus due to changing technology

(yeah, exactly...)

Workplace politics

(don't know about that , ~smirk)

The inanity of rereleasing the entire Lone Wolf and Cub manga as teeny weenie little books.

(yup, sure, OK)

Unusual things that people collect.

(the oddest being librarian porn, ie, pornography featuring library scenarios)

What not to do when plastering your home.

(missed most of that one, may have been useful)

How super hero movies ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS suck!

(um, OK)

Of course, the conversations at all of TomP's get together and parties are like this, so in context, It wasn't too odd.

When I left the party, there were only a few people left and they were just hanging around so that they wouldn't show up too early for some after-hours party thing happening somewhere in Downtown. Apparently Downtown is the next "locale," but don't tell anyone 'cause that will just ruin it.

Listening to how great this party thing was going to be reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend a couple of years ago at another party. He was getting ready to leave to go to a (apparently illegal) speakeasy. Considering his tastes, I got an impression of a bunch of people of varied orientations all wearing styling vintage clothing and listening the most esoteric of eclectic music. Well, that and aa expensive cover charge and lots of liquor and smokes at some abandoned business somewhere. Thinking about it I think that was somewhere Downtown to.

I didn't go to the shindig, but I did decide that ten thirty was too early to go straight home, so I stopped at the Burbank Virgin first. There was a DVD sale going, but in spite of or maybe because of all the film talk earlier I couldn't find anything I wanted to get. After browsing around for a while, I decided that I was tuckered out and headed home.

Sunday 04/29/01:

OK, what happens if you see a musical with your husband and he decides that he loved it? In my case, that means that John organizes a group of our friends to see it. Which is a round about way of saying that we Mama Mia'd again.

The friends were a couple of John's work people, a couple of the Long beach lesbians and a couple of the Monsters (his college friends). Dinner was a Thai place nearish the theater. I don't remember the name of it, but the food was good(nice and hot). Dinner conversations that night did not include discussions about English science fiction puppet shows, but rather more mundane topics like mortgages, interview techniques and vacation plans.

Mama Mia was just as determinedly fun and upbeat as the first time. Everybody got up and bopped around at the end, everybody had a great time and everybody was glad John convinced them to see it. Me, I was glad when John and I finally got home that night.

More later,

nico

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