It’s the end of the year as we know it

And I feel fine.

Here are a few memories from 2007. Happy new year, folks.

The porcelain teacup was smaller than usually seen in America. And it was a teacup, not a mug. Alongside the cup was the spoon. A small, wrapped windmill cookie was perched on the edge of the saucer.

The sun shone down through the window of the café. Shoppers and tourists passed by my view of the narrow bricked street outside my perch inside the café. I sipped my tea. I opened the cookie and cracked a piece off to nibble on. I smiled to myself and inhaled another puff of the skunky smoke.

Amsterdam, April 6, 2007



I opened that email with a rush of hope; I closed it with the crush of despair. Simple, well chosen words that told me I was not the one. I had led myself to believe there was more than there was; I needed it so badly, but I didn’t know how much it showed.

So much hope and promise. Yet, it was like hearing the 7th note in music, it was an incomplete relationship, destined not to rest.

I met a friend later that night. He could read it on my face. I mumbled some excuse about my work situation, and have tried to move on.

I wish he could have called. I still wish he would.

Home, March 15. 2007


Three minutes passed; three more miles closer; twenty minutes to go. He calculated the number of times he’d have to say no to himself before he could let it rest at work. Quitting could not be easier; quitting could not be more distracting.

Each mile was another minute he’d made it.without smoking a cigarette. It was a curious challenge in that he had very little physical urge or need to smoke. It was nearly all mental. He could say no. It was just a matter of saying no a lot.

Fortunately, his background in Calvinism made that part easy.

Day one of not smoking for the rest of my life

Home, June 18, 2007


My friend smiled back at me, and whispered, “darlin’ you wouldn’t have to tie me up, but you could.”

Before us, a generously furry blond and stocky man in a kilt was being trussed up like a turkey; his partner watching intently. My friend and I were here on a little R & R. Summer fun with a buddy from Cleveland who I hadn’t seen in two years. We had had shared a very special weekend then, and were happy to share another. B & D demo night at Touche was merely a sideshow to what we were doing to each other in our heads and later in bed.

And when the morning light comes streaming in, you get up and do it again. Amen.

Chicago, August 10, 2007

Christmas Babies

Just some random thoughts...

To Mothers and Fathers with new Christmas Babies:

Here are some do’s and don’ts, from a guy who’s lived as a Christmas baby all my life.

Do:

Have a birthday celebration for years 1-16 or so.
Give separate birthday gifts
Do celebrate Christmas – Go to Church if you can
Invite family over
Tell your child that he or she was the most special gift you ever received!

Don’t:
Make them wear Santa outfits after the age of 3
Tell everyone their birth story, unless it involves a manger
Give them names like Jesus, Chris, Mary, Merry, or Noel.
Use red or green as decorations on the cake

For better or worse

Would they have done it if they could have? Would it have made a difference in the end?

I have two close friends. They have been together (living separately) for seven years. They are lovers, buddies, boyfriends, partners. That’s all they could ever be, legally. Not husbands to each other—that can’t happen. So, maybe that’s why it didn’t?

Now that their relationship is in a rocky spot, what happens? In some instances, I suspect, it gets set aside because there is no legal commitment. But, in this case, the rocky spot is a core issue—priorities of attention and, essentially, respect and love are at issue. Now they are thinking of ending the relationship. Would it be different if they had been married? Would a legal expression of love have triumphed, or made it more of an ideal or standard in their relationship that could have weathered this time?

Sometimes I think so. Having been married, the legal union is a permanent bond of commitment that takes a relationship to a stronger level. That does not mean that a non-legally-binding relationship cannot have the same type of bonds, it just means that a non-binding relationship doesn’t have to, and often doesn’t.

A second reason may be the lack of tradition in gay relationships. Without the institution, men and women were forced to set their own standards, and for many reasons, they may have chosen lesser bonds of commitment. Gay couples have had the freedom to define their own relationships, and often, they eschewed the conventional, monogamous or traditional form of a relationship. While straights also have that freedom to define their relationship, the legal relationship itself is not, and they find themselves bound together despite their feelings.

A conundrum, to be sure. Whether to be gay and free, or whether freedom is, as Janis sang, “another word for nothing left to lose.”

And when you have something to lose, such as your legal rights or privileges, you may think twice about how you handle your relationship.

Meanwhile, I have two friends whose relationship is on the rocks. Would they have married? Probably not. Are they better off without that option? Of course not.

While I am not sure it would make a difference in whether they stayed together or not, I think it does give a person pause, when thinking about changing or ending a relationship. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health....

The snow

It's always a little extra quiet on the morning after a snowfall. Something about the thick blanket covering all that mutes sound. That, and the fact that there is very little traffic.





This picture is from early afternoon, Sunday, the 16th. I had just finished shoveling the walks, and brushing off my car. The trusty Toyota, in full winter beater glory.

I've been looking at newer cars for such a long time. Dreaming of one, actually. It is tough making a decision on my own this time. I just don't want to tie up too much money into a car, yet, I am a car nut, who's been deprived of a great ride for many years.

I said to a co-worker, "Think of it this way...a guy my age has been driving and owning family cars for many years, this middle-age sports car thing is not an attempt to recapture youth, it's an attempt to just have some fun again."

In the meantime, I'll wait at least another month or so to get one.

fa la la

A set of elves. Originally, there were probably eight or ten of these sculpted pipe cleaner elves in grey-purple and silver-sage. Oh, and there was a frosty-aqua one, too, now that I'm remembering more. I think they were from the 40s. They had ruddy clay faces and cotton-tuftedbeards. I'm not sure where they are now. I used to have a couple of them when I was married.

Since I was a child, the elves were always on our tree. They went on last, because their heads (above their faces) were actually little loops that would only fit on the tip of a branch.

Until I was about 10, we always had a real tree. A child of the 60s, it was no real violation to purchase an artificial one (although ours was particularly miserable, and lived under an Uptown Cleaners drycleaning bag during its 11 month hibernation.) Despite my sad description of Christmas past and the 60s suburban aesthetic, it had its own charm. And each year, I'd place the elves on the tree. I miss them this year.

At some point, I will get pictures from my sisters. It will not be pretty; it will be reality. Imagine a 18"x40" low, 1940s coffee table, re-imagined for the late 60s with an avocado green Formica top. My dad worked in Formica at that time. The tree was placed on that little coffee table, which was centered in front of the living room window.

The tiny tree was laden with ornaments from our family. Older, broken sets of metallic globes with Angel hair inside, and many golden-glass baskets and orbs made up the bulk of the flash, accompanied by tacky crafts from Sunday School, layered below a heap of icicles. We usually bought a new package of icicles each year, but there were always a few crinkly leftovers to remind us of Christmas past. Lights, too, were a mish-mash of old-style indoor bulbs and miniatures; many colors, shapes, blinkers and bubblers that were carefully arranged to show the best ones towards the street. On top was a single spire of spun glass. Nicer than most sold these days, I think my sister still has ownership of it.

Memories of Christmas.

Isn't it rich, isn't it queer

Where are the elves.

Send in the elves.

Merry Christmas Darling

Ok, I can be a sentimental old fool. My eyes get moist sometimes, and even if I brush it away with the back of my hand, I can see the dried tears later when I wash my face or squeeze an errant blackhead from my post-post adolescent face.

What tears me up? Sometimes the silliest plots or moments on TV. Crap like Little House on the Prairie or the Waltons, even. Sometimes it's something a little more significant, like music.

Yesterday, I spent part of my Christmas Bonus on an Ipod. I bought an 8 gig Nano, and hope it's big enough. I never thought I would enjoy one so much. Loading my music and listening has been a treat.

That Carpenter's Christmas CD I bought last year finally got cracked open and downloaded.

Merry Christmas, Darling.

And so much more.

James Taylor. Mexico.

Stevie Wonder. Isn't She Lovely?

And lest you think I have a totally "classic" music collection, there's a few from NIN also. Those don't make me cry, though.

I think having this Ipod kind of makes up for losing a large number of CD's this summer when my car was broken into.

Merry Christmas to me. Or happy birthday. (Doesn't matter--for those who don't know, my b-day is on December 25.)