Monday, December 15, 2008

Happy F'in' Christmas

"What the hell have they been doing? It's been over a month since the last blog entry. Maybe they got arrested at that protest. Good God, I told him to settle for domestic partnership. What the hell were they thinking?"

Well, no we didn't get arrested. The California Supreme Court did take up the cases seeking to overturn Proposition 8, and there should be some kind of decision next March. Until then, Steve and I are thinking positive and assuming that our marriage is legally intact and viable in the State of California.

So now for a kind of whirlwind update of what's been going on since the rally downtown on Nov. 15.

For Thanksgiving, we went up to the moms' (or, existentially, the mom's) for Thanksgiving. Sister Kittie did all the cooking, and we had a lovely dinner with Steve and myself and Kittie and David and my mom and Bob Waltz, who is a longtime theater friend of the family from San Luis Obispo.

Steve and I stayed at the Shelter Cove Inn, which is just north of Pismo Beach, right on the ocean. We had grand unobstructed ocean views from the room, since the bluff outside our window was a wildlife santuary. Our first morning there, we woke up to two Peregrin Falcons flying over the bluff looking for mousey goodies and such to eat.

Aunt Kit was not in attendance for Thanksgiving, since she had fallen a few weeks earlier and broken her back. OUCH. Sister Kittie had taken her to the emergency room, and she had spent the last several weeks in hospital, having been transferred to a care home for her physical therapy. On Thanksgiving evening, we all went down and visited her. Her roommates were a dotty wailing woman who made no sense at all (I thought she had visitors, but she was just making noises to herself) and a deaf woman who has taken advantage of her affliction by using it to shut out the rest of the world. Not the best roomies, by a longshot, but hopefully she'll be in more amenable surroundings sometime soon. We all wish her the best.

The time with Mom and Sister Kittie and her husband Dave was really nice. I have been up there a couple times this year, but Steve, since he hasn't had vacation time yet this year, had not. So this was his first chance to meet the new dog, Goldie, who is a real sweetheart. After Alfie and Annie (who were both kind of damaged goods when it comes to the pet department), it's nice to have such a true-blue doggie buddy watching over the moms' house. Although I'm sure she'd be an absolute pushover for a burglar with a steak.

The first week in December, there was another cutback at The Reporter, and about a third of the remaining staff was laid off. Luckily, I was not among them. The editor told me, in fact, that my name was not actively brought up as a potential cut. I'm beginning to thing I'm indispensable, but that's not a wise thing to assume. Lesley, my best buddy on the copy desk, was laid off, even though I consider her one of the most comptent of the copy editors.

It took a couple of days to get over the shock of losing so many coworkers ($1.8 million worth in salary). At some point, I decided that, since I was blessed with employment, I should spend as freely as possible this holiday season, and that's how I started my shopping.

I spent a whopping $60 to create a garland for over the dining room window. I spent $50 on wrapping paper and ribbons. (While at the store, I ran across these giant ornaments; they're actually a deposit box for toy donations for the holidays.)

In the interim, I got a picture of cat Buddy sleeping with his Elf and Teddy Bear buddies. We also spent a weekend (and then some) putting up and decorating the Christmas tree. It's an artificial tree, and on its last legs. We went down to Stats (a local decoration place here in Pasadena) to get the makings for the garland, and took a look at some very nice artificial trees which lookoed almost real...and cost about $500 for a six-footer. That expense, I'm afraid, will have to wait until next holiday season: That employed I am not.

So this is probably the last blog I will be writing for the rest of the year. A Happy Hannukah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa and all the best in the new year. After throwing our shoes at Bush (I did as soon as I was given the idea, but they only got across the living room and nowhere near Washington, D.C.), things can only rise.

So I can say I feel truly blessed this holiday season: This year, I got to marry the man that I love; a thing I thought would never happen. And although there are lots of narrow-minded people out there trying to take that away, the light of the fact shines as brightly as ever. Equality is only a matter of time and perseverance. And the love doesn't change, no matter how it's enveloped by social status. And there is so much hope just waiting to explode into change this next year, I am eager to see what happens once the carbunkle Bush is gone from our capital forever.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Waiting for the World to Change

On Saturday, Steve and I, along with 14,000 or so other disgruntled folks, collected near City Hall in downtown L.A. to protest the passage of Proposition 8. (Included in this blog are signs from rallys all over the nation: Seattle, Washington, D.C., New York and here in L.A. Some of them are pretty funny, if you ask me.)

Wisely, we chose to take the Gold Line into town rather than driving in. We got at the rally location about 10:20, 10 minutes before the rally was to begin. Almost immediately, we ran into Lesley, a coworker who has been gently encouraging me to get involved in the demonstrations which have been taking place almost daily since November 4.

We had a pretty good place right near the stage up against the barricade. Not only did we get good views of the speakers, but a couple of them came right through the crowd in front of us, including out esteemed chief of police, William Bratton. The best speaker, however, was Mayor Villaregosa, a person who has been behind the gay community from the very first. Here's our first Hispanic president, in my mind.

It felt really good to be out there yelling with thousands of other people, knowing that hundreds of rallies like this were being held at the very same time all over the country and in foreign cities as well. But in a lot of ways, it was like preaching to the choir. The minds we needed to change had already voted, and the next and nearest hope was the overturning of the proposition by the state Supreme Court.

So after the high of people together to make action happen, I feel as though I'm sitting around, watching and waiting to see what will happen next.

On Sunday, CBS had an hourlong interview with Barack and Michelle Obama and I had a chance to feel good all over again about his win over McCain. But there, too, we're sitting around waiting for him to take office, for the real change to begin.

And that's what it's boiling down to for me now, waiting. Waiting for the Supreme Court to make a move. Waiting to see what direction needs to be taken. Waiting to see if our marriage, only a few months old now, is going to be wiped out. Waiting to see if we're going to be robbed of that very special moment when we felt a respect and dignity anointing out joining together. That's really what the proponents of 8 want to rob us of; being able to feel like complete people whose love is honored and cherished as much as anyone else's.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

We Can All Join In

You have probably seen the daily demonstrations that have been taking place in and around Los Angeles since the passage of Proposition 8. It's good to see this kind of groundswell occurring spontaneously. All of this has been organized on the Internet, with times and locations being generated daily. Well, now's your chance to get involved on a national level. No matter where you live, there will be rallies and protests organized in every state in the union.

The protests will be held on Saturday, November 15 at 1:30 East Coast, 12:30 Central, 11:30 Mountain and 10:30 West Coast time. Check out the Join the Impact Web site for a site near you. They also list public transit alternatives for getting to the rallies.

So everyone who can, join in and let the nation hear that it's about time for equal rights; acceptance, not merely tolerance.

It's about time for another groovy revolution.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Jubilation and Devastation

On Tuesday, America made it clear that race was no longer the issue it used to be. In an overwhelming electoral majority, the people of this land elected their first African-America president. In that moment, every black American realized that they could be anything they wanted; that the doors were no longer closed. Racially, the millennium had arrived for the descendants of American slaves. Blacks were no longer niggers. They had pride and hope as their personal possessions. When I saw their reactions on the television coverage of this historical event, I cried with them, recalling the struggles and sacrifices of the equal rights movements of the 1960s.

In the same moment, here in California, the electorate passed a constitutional amendment that eliminated the newly born right of gays and lesbians to marry the people they love. Here in California, by embedding it into the very Constitution that guides the state and its citizens, Californians created a new class of niggers: Fags and dykes. The words are all interchangeable and all define a separate and less equal class of citizens. And the 18,000 same-sex couples who were married during those four and a half months of equality (including yours truly) now have licenses and vows that are in legal limbo.

When I got up this morning and heard the results (52% yes, 48% no), I was devastated. I was angry. I was depressed. I was resentful. I had a mild urge to go out and firebomb a Mormon temple or a Catholic church or some such edifice of Bible-driven bigotry. I was going to call into work and take a day off because I was so upset. But then, I realized I would just sit at home and stew, making myself more miserable and not achieving anything. So I went to work.

On the train in, I looked at the people riding with me: Did she vote yes? Did he vote yes? Does he look like the type? And it was frustrating because you just can't tell. The one thing that did infect me, though, was the high spirits of so many of the black people on the train and subway. They were smiling. They were making eye contact and nodding hello. You could tell they felt like whole, complete people. And though I was still depressed about my own situation, their energy helped me continue into the day.

Finally, I realized what was happening: I had lost the feeling they had achieved. When I took my vows and married Steve, I felt whole and, for the first time in my life, my heart was completely full. My relationship was being acknowledged with the honor and dignity it deserved: the state of marriage. I was able to share that with very special people. With Tuesday's vote results, my heart had hemorrhaged and I felt less than a whole, complete person. I had become the nigger of the Religious Right.

But there are already court documents being filed. This is not the end, but the beginning of another long round of court cases, judgments and appeals to re-establish the simple right that the California Supreme Court so eloquently conferred back in May: every citizen's right to marry the person of his or her own choosing. It's just that I was hoping this one struggle would be over and the concept of elemental personal rights would start spreading beyond our borders. Guess not. But Steve and I still have our rings. We still have our valid marriage license. We still have one another. And all the good people interested enough to check in on us here on this blog.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Worra Worra Worra

It's been a while since I added anything to the blog, and then it was pretty much just video links. And the reason is because I've been fretting. I've been anxious. I've been worried.

I'm feeling pretty good about Obama's likelihood of being elected. There's no real problem there for me. Unless something very extreme occurs in the next eight days, I think we have our new president. No, it's the Prop 8 thing that really has me torn. I keep trying to explain to people that it's like the state's having an election to see if I, personally, will remain married. Is it OK, California? We really love each other, and I don't know what I'm going to do if you say no to us and yes to Prop. 8.

This whole line of thought leaves me feeling very weak and vulnerable, and that makes me angry. I don't like feeling that way. I don't like feeling like other people have usurped power over me. But that's the position I'm in -- tens of thousands of people are in -- right now and we just have to wait for the vote.

No no no no no no no no no no no no. ...no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

I hate accentuating the negative, but it is most necessary this week.

And since I don't have any photos to share this week, I offer another video, this one from Ron Howard, Andy Griffith and Henry Winkler:
See more Ron Howard videos at Funny or Die


And for those of you who haven't seen "The Landlord" yet, I'm including that, too. It has nothing to do with elections or personal rights and freedoms, but PEARL ROCKS!:
See more Will Ferrell videos at Funny or Die


And one more to get you to go to FunnyorDie.com and browse around.
See more Adam "Ghost Panther" McKay videos at Funny or Die

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Sure Hope These Hit the Airwaves

Surfing the Internet for videos on Proposition 8 is interesting. There are dozens, if not hundreds of them, both for and against (lots and lots on YouTube). Most of the ones for Yes are pious (one is even fire and brimstone, suggesting that last years fires in May were because of the court ruling legalizing same-sex marriage).

Bill Maher said Obama vs. McCain was YouTube vs. feeding tube. How true.

This set is my favorite because they parody a set of ads (PC vs Mac) that are fun and that everyone is familiar with. Check 'em out:

Now, this concept is genius


It's fun and gets the IMPORTANT concepts across


And next to these, the "Yes" ads seems so rigid


And Margaret Cho explains it for the really stupid people


Can the message be any clearer? Pass this proposition and you are creating human rights exclusion in a constitutional document. Duh.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

The Corruption and Demise of SharkBoy

We have an aquarium. Steve gave it to me as a birthday present a little over two years ago. As with most new aquarium owners, we went through our share of fish dying. Luckily, the downstairs bathroom is directly opposite the aquarium, so the fishy Viking funerals were short and sweet. I'd say perhaps half a dozen fish came and went until we got the tank truly stabilized and the fish population healthy.

As I said to Steve, the nice thing about owning fish is you don't get particularly attached to them as pets. You can't stroke them, they don't make noises at you and they don't blink or rub up against you. So when one of them just doesn't make it, it's not an emotional tribulation. And then there was SharkBoy.

SharkBoy was a Bala Shark, more correctly known as Balantiocheilos melanopterus. We didn't know a whole lot about him when we got him, just that he was nice and silvery and about an inch long. We added him to the tank and he grew...and grew...and grew. Here's a shot of the tank from about a year ago, with an inset of just how big SharkBoy had gotten.

At one point we had gotten five little neons, thinking to add a small school of fish to the tank. One by one they mysteriously disappeared. And SharkBoy got larger. And the larger he got, the more confining the tank space was, and the edgier he got. It is not true that fish stop growing if the tank is small. SharkBoy grew and as he began to feel claustrophobic, he took to leaping out of the water and banging up against the glass top of the aquarium.

Recently, SharkBoy had dominated the tank, both visually and societally. We had a couple algae-eaters that just disappeared, and it's not like they can use a secret passage to escape from the tank. There was only one place they could go. We went to the aquarium store and asked if they would take SharkBoy back and resell him. They said no. We were stuck with him.

Then, last Saturday, Steve was checking for the two new algae-eaters he had purchased. They had large, splayed heads that would not easily fit down SharkBoy's gullet. We found the first one, but the second one, or shall I say the remains of the second one, half-eaten, were floating near the filter intake. More fleshy remnants waved among the plant leaves. A line had been crossed. We both knew it, though neither of us spoke a word.

Steve got out the net and opened the top of the tank. As he placed the net in, SharkBoy leapt up and over, falling six feet down onto the landing of the garage stairs then flopped, Slinky-like, stair by stair, ending next to the catbox. Steve flew down the stairs, got SharkBoy securely in the net and brought him up, where we took him to the bathroom, ready for his execution. Steve plopped him in the toilet and flushed.

But SharkBoy was just too damn big. He did not go easily into the whirlpool of death. I slammed the lid as he flopped and jumped. It was something from the Twilight Zone, this thing knocking against the toilet seat while we waited for the tank to refill. I got a plastic bag, put it over my hand and flipped open the lid. I pushed down, confining SharkBoy to the bottom of the bowl and flushed. I held the bag in place while the tank refilled. I flushed again. I removed the bag as the tank refilled a third time, then I flushed once more. All was peaceful.

Then, as I pulled the bag off my hand, from the corner of my eye I saw his head re-emerge in the bowl. "Oh, shit!" I screamed, "He's back!" I put the bag back on my hand, grabbed SharkBoy firmly around the body, inverted the bag and tied him inside and into the trash he went. I told Steve, "If you hear some flopping around in the kitchen, just ignore it." His response was, "I think I'll take the trash out."

Neither of us felt good about what we did, but it was a matter of reclaiming the aquarium. We're planning on getting some schooling fish now, little ones, that will bring back the peaceful and calming experience of watching a miniature underwater world in the living room. Rest in Peace, SharkBoy, you pushy little bastard.

In preparing the above photo for this confession/exposé, I checked online, and it turns out that, in their native Thailand, fish like SharkBoy are good eatin' fish. And damn if SharkBoy wouldn't have filled a small bun once he was filleted. But I don't think I want to consider the trauma of that experience.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Election Embedding

Here are two really good skits from Saturday Night Live. Enjoy.

A real blog entry follows soon.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

The Stupidest Show on Television

Gosh. That's a tough one. It's hard to say. First of all, there's "Hole in the Wall" on Fox, which is hosted by the weatherman from Fox's L.A. station. People dress in silver lamé body suits and attempt to pass through holes in a moving wall. Almost as thrilling as "Deal or No Deal," where people pick numbers on attache cases that are then opened revealing another number which is more interesting since it's dollars.

Then there's "The Real McCains." It started out ludicrous, then it got tasteless, now it's just sad to watch. Worse, nearly half those viewing don't see the shameless farce unfolding in front of their faces, but think it's compelling drama. Let's cross our fingers and hope this one gets canceled in early November. Here's a shot from the show that kind of looks like "THX 1138," don't you think?

We're all waiting around for "The Wall Street Bailout" to run its course. That one's kind of like "Deal or No Deal," except they're playing with our money. It was supposed to be over in a week, but got picked up for another week because its numbers were so compelling.

Those from California who read this tome have probably run across the Yes on Prop 8 ad that's been running recently. And running. And running. And running. It has Gavin Newsom being his usual obnoxious self, and then intimates that, if the proposition does not pass, queers are gonna sue you for believing they're inferior; your churches will be taken over by queers, queers will control everything and children will be taught that queer marriage is just as good as real marriage. Queers. Queers queers queers. STRIKE BACK!

Why are they so threatened?

And the amazing thing is these people don't think their attitudes are bigoted, or they are working HARD to make others second-class citizens. They are totally convinced they are doing the right thing; what God wants. What would Jesus do? (He'd kick ass on these queers, that's what he'd do!) How do you try to alter that kind of mindset? I think it's probably much easier to just wait for them to die. As far as this picture goes, I found it online, I'm not sure where it's from, but I wanted to let everyone know that there are some Republicans who know how to treat a female impersonator.

You may recall that my brother Stephen [May 2, 2008] said this blog needed more meaningful content rather than simply being a diary style of writing. Perhaps it's because my daily life is so boring, or perhaps because we are living in really exciting times right now, but I note that the entries have become biting and opinionated over the last few months. Whaddayathink? It certainly is more fun to write.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

WHEEEEEEE!!!!!

Was that a wild week on Wall Street or what? I don't think things are over just quite yet. And I'm wondering how extensively this whole financial episode is going to be spun and twisted and tweaked in the presidential campaigns. I made this photo illustration to commemorate it all. While putting it together, I realized: Red is not only the color for the Republican party, it is also the universal sign for deficit, loss, uncontrolled spending and bloodshed, whether actual or merely financial.

I can't help but think that the entire thing was generated by the quick and dirty, anything-for-a-profit financiers (the same ones who keep sending me a half dozen credit card applications in the mail every week), and now they're going to be forced to retire from their positions, accepting multimillion-dollar golden parachutes while previous homeowners that they talked into guaranteed-to-fail loans are living (if they're lucky) in roach-infested mobile home trailers instead of the homes they dreamed of buying with these institutions' assistance.

None of that sounds like a Democrat's state of mind (except, perhaps, the trailer home). One day McCain's against any kind of bailout for anyone and then, when the Bush White House comes out 180 degrees from that position, McCain falls into lockstep with the party. Maverick indeed.

And now Palin's office in Juneau is being run by the McCain campaign. Call Juneau with a question about Troopergate and you get forwarded to a McCain operative (excuse me, representative) who stalls and spins and then forwards you to the McCain-Palin campaign headquarters in Virginia. Try to get information out of Wasilla, Alaska, and the same thing happens; McCain cronies have taken over there, too. Even the Alaskan Republicans are getting pretty pissed off by all this.

But today we pause from the campaign trail and reflect on the wonders of televised entertainment as the 60th Annual Emmy Awards are given out. The limo just arrived to take the publisher and top editors to glitter at the ceremony. The rest of us grunts get to stay here, put out a paper and eat catered Mexican food. Hopefully, I'll be out of here by 8 or 9 o'clock, while some folks will be staying until 1:30 a.m.

All I can say about the Emmys is the Oscars they ain't. One of the guys I dated before Steve and I got together was a schlub of a sound editor, and he had an Emmy because he had worked on "Friends."

But the Emmys do herald the beginning of the Awards Season here in LaLa Land, and that means more pages (and more advertising) for The Reporter, which means more work and more income for us all, theoretically. Just as the retail sector makes the lion's share of its profit during the Christmas season, so do we make the majority of our ad income from now until late February, when the Oscars are held.

In closing, I wanted to say that Steve has a really great story about having lunch with a coworker in Van Nuys. It's really funny. I have to goose him to write it for y'all. I'll even provide some art. Until then, you'll have to digest my whiney political droning.

One point of interest: today I've been blogging for a year and 10 days. I guess you can keep some things going.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Find the Pig

I'll give you a hint: He's not wearing lipstick.

This photo illustration is of my own concoction. It's a reaction to the entire electoral process so far since the end of the conventions. Everything seems so preplanned this time around and the electorate seem to be once removed from everything that's going on.

And I don't even know if we should be blaming the candidates. The handlers seem to be coming out and saying the really nasty things, at least on the Republican side. The candidates themselves are spun as commodities; products that we're being marketed, and Palin is a shiny new SUV, just the kind you've always wanted. ICK!

I see the polls each week, like we all do, and I am astounded at how divided this country is. It makes me wonder just how these opinions are being arrived at. What are the questions that are being asked? How do the pollsters arrive at the simplified numbers via their statistical processes? We're remote enough from the process that we have to choose answers like brands of cereal. Then the numbers come out, telling us what we want to have for dinner.

Just like the candidates were chosen long before the conventions, I have a sneaking suspicion that the outcome of the election is sitting in an envelope somewhere in Washington, and the process of voting has become just another formality, like the conventions, to validate a decision that has already been made.

It won't be hanging chads this time around. Now we're going to get faulty tabulations from electronic voting systems, and many of them have no backup to allow hand counting. It's all suspect in my mind.

All I can say is this Palin woman is dangerous. Anyone who's ordered a cafe espresso has more foreign affairs experience than she does. I spent a year involved in government in Alaska back in the '70s, and I can tell you it's no training ground for a president. With just over a half-million people in the entire state, it's really more like a little club where everyone's on a first-name basis. If it weren't for the enormous amount of income from the oil concerns on the North Slope, the state would be another West Virginia populated by disgruntled folk who couldn't take life in the lower 48.

Two months. We've got to wait two months to see the outcome. Two months of sleazy Republican jabs at the Democrats that are so two-faced and self-serving that it's unbelievable the number people who are actually listening to the messages and buying them as sincere and accurate.

Perhaps we should program the presidential election, call it "Americana Idol," and let people vote on their cellphones. Not only would the election be approximately as accurate as the old way, but the charges for all those phone votes would help defray the monstrous debt that Baby Bush has amassed in the last eight years while dangling the boogeyman of terrorism over the heads of the American people.

God, I can't wait until November. The weather will be cooler, too.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Justa Montha Go

Yes, tomorrow marks the monthiversary of our nuptials. It seems to me like it's been a lot less time. Of course, we were domestic partners for a couple years already, so most of the economic and monetary situations of marriage were already with us. Still, I have to remind Steve that whether I write the check for repair of the air conditioner or he does, the money basically comes from and goes to the same place, so it's just a matter of cash flow.

Speaking of outlays of large sums of money, I finally broke down and purchased the Adobe Creative Suite Premium CS3 edition. I found it online for a measly $919 ($998 after tax and shipping). It was about time, too, since I have been using "borrowed" versions of the programs for the last decade or so and I'm tired of not being able to upgrade them. Also, the two major Web design programs, Flash and Dreamweaver, are included in the suite, and I have got to learn these if I'm going to stay competitive in the design field.

The small package arrived at work on Wednesday. It seemed so small for a grand's worth of programming data. I took it home and excitedly popped the DVD into my computer.

The first thing I saw was a warning: "Adobe Creative Suite operates best with a minimum of 1 gigabyte of RAM." My machine had only 512 megabytes. But since it didn't say "Don't load the program unless you have a minimum..." I decided to go ahead.

Over an hour later, it finally finished installing. When I opened it up, it took forever to start. I started looking around the Internet for how much new memory for my machine would be. The quote on the Apple Web site was about $400. Ick. I looked around for a place in Pasadena and discover Di-No Computers on Colorado Boulevard. They are Apple specialists and they really know what they're doing.

I asked for the memory cards the Apple Web site said I needed. The guy looked doubtful. "You live nearby?" he asked. I told him I was just a mile or two away. "Why don't you just bring in the machine," he suggested. Sounded good to me. As it turned out, the Apple Web site had been wrong; instead of a PJ4200 board I needed a PJ3200 board. We decided to max out the RAM at 2 gigs because, as I told him, the programs are just going to get bigger. And it cost me less than half of what was quoted on the Apple site.

Now my iMac is happy again. InDesign, Photoshop, Illustrator, Flash, Dreamweaver, Acrobat and Fireworks all load up right away (yeah, I guess seven programs for a grand isn't too expensive), and I'm once again up to speed.

Monday, September 1, 2008

Forget It, Jake; It's Chinatown

The Labor Day weekend was quite nice, though the weather has been hot and muggy. It's not intolerable; I'm just getting tired of summer. I'm more of a misty-mornings, gentle-cloudy-afternoons, listening-to-rain-on-the-roof kind of guy.

Steve and I took the Gold Line down to Chinatown on Sunday and had dimsum. It was kind of overwhelming: two of us and about six servers with carts full of dishes, all trying to get us to pick theirs. We ended up with a plate of fried whole shrimp, their crispy little eyes staring up at us. I ate a couple, but had trouble with the shells. I did locate some sweet pork dumplings, so Steve got to try those. We ended with a really pretty gelatin thing that tasted like tapioca.

After brunch we wandered through the various shops (Steve's favorite thing, I'm learning). We got a ho-toi statue (a nod to dad), a cloissone egg Xmas ornament and a set of jade chopsticks. It was supposed to be cooler yesterday, but I'd say it was well into the low 90s at the peak of the day.

Today's cooler than all week. Everyone's waiting for Gustav to do its thing, hoping that all it disrupts is the nasty gusto of the Republican Convention. The downside: The Democrats have decided not to have a "war room" as the Republicans did in Denver. So Gustav is kind of forcing the Democrats to turn the other cheek, which might end up working in their favor.

All I want this November is Obama elected president and Proposition 8 voted down; all the rest is negotiable for me. I found this image on a Republican Web site and just had to put it on my Election TV because it's so cool. It kind of sums up the ridiculous process of politics.

On the creative front, Cousin Robin and I are working on a project together. We're spending Wednesday evenings on this. I'd give more information, but I'm not sure how much she wants me to talk about it. Let's just leave it at we're both really excited about it.

This coming week the weather promises to heat up once again. Even though we're only three weeks away from the beginning of autumn, California is in store for eight or nine more weeks of summer heat before the cool weather and, hopefully, rain come our way. Until then, we chill out and stay hopeful.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

The Kitchen and the Woodpile

Nothing much happening, so no blog posts. But I must give you something...

There seems to be something parallel in this situation: Here we have same-sex marriage in California, and in the same year the Democrats have both an African-American and a woman candidate stumping for president. Is this the dawning of the Age of Aquarius? Ya think? But, hold your horses; now we have the Democratic National Convention, and everyone seems terribly upset, even with all these good liberal vibes invigorating the country.

But Denver's filled with girly-man whiny-babies (as our esteemed governor would say). Can't we just enjoy this watershed moment for America?

The Clintons are acting like prima donnas (which is probably their normal behavior; after all, they are the self-appointed royalty of liberal America and the Democratic party. Never mind that Bill stabbed the LGBT community in the back numerous times after courting our support in two elections). Everyone at the convention has their nose out of joint about something: Just get it together and unite behind the black guy! This gives Operation Get Behind the Darkie a whole new meaning (see "South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut"). What's so freaking hard about party unity?

I think white Middle America still has a problem with voting for a black person. I suspect a lot of Hilary's loyalists are willing to go over to McCain just because they don't want a black man in the White House. And they don't want gays to marry because it's just not right; no real reason, they just want to keep us where we are. People do have a driving need to create "others" in their world.

To be honest, I haven't seen a minute of the TV coverage of the convention. I was commuting home last night while it was on, and I'm afraid I have to report that Steve has little to no interest in watching. (I know this will break my mother's heart; she's a real convention freak. The up side is that's perhaps the worst thing about him.)

The Hollywood Reporter has people in Denver, but there's scant coming out of the convention from them. We're even having trouble getting photos. Is this a nonhappening?

But next week we get the Republican convention, and then things will return to normal: women to the kitchen, colored folks to the woodpile (or somewhere where they won't been obtrusive or even noticed, just like the gays and handicapped and people who aren't white and/or upwardly mobile and/or just plain rich) and the heterosexual men will take over and decide what's best for all those "others" they're so fond of leading.

I love American politics.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Yummy, Yummy, Yummy

"I've got love in my tummy."

The lyrics are repulsive, I know, the song idiotic, but doesn't it make a cute headline and lead? (No?) In any case, I do have an inner glow of late.

It's from a kind of flow I've been feeling in the last week since all the ceremony and celebration. My coworker Darah put it nicely: "Being married just feels different, doesn't it?"

Yes, it does.

It's not just the ring sitting eternally on your finger. It's not all the people fawning over you when they find out. It's just something that vibrates while you're sitting together with your spouse at home, or looking at him/her across a restaurant table. It's an intangible thing: It's marriage.

I'm not being sucky or saccharine about this.

I'm realizing that if a right's denied to you, you never really experience it. Being able to marry the person I love has opened a whole world of human experience that I'm just starting to sense, something most people take for granted and have shared for a lifetime.

Which I guess is a good way to explain why the right to marry is so important. A domestic partnership is a legal arrangement, a privilege doled out by the state like your driver's license, but marriage is a condition that completes us as human beings. It fosters so many good human qualities and I suspect it provides this flow I feel. It's much pleasanter than routine, and it makes routine even more endurable.

Wait. Maybe this is sucky and saccharine.

I don't care. It's really nice. It's a very nice feeling of inclusion, both internal and external, that I've never felt before.

I'm sure it wears off after a while, this inner glow, this flow; but the marriage stays. And so does he.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Pickup Entry

I promised a piece about my week off before the wedding, so I'm making good. First, we start with a picture of my brother Steve and myself. He hit me over the head with a pogo stick when we were kids (not on purpose) and cut my face open with a ballpoint pen (not on purpose, either). Amazingly, I don't detect guilt issues in either one of us. We see each other every few years and have deep and profound discussions. I like hanging out with him because he makes me feel smart.

Here I am with "the girls," as I like to call them, because every gay man should have someone he calls "the girls," and I prefer mine to actually be girls. This is, from left, Amanda, Pam, me and Emily at the Grover Beach train station. Actually, it all began on Monday, Aug. 4...

Steve and the girls (doesn't that sound great?) flew into LAX from Wisconsin. They took the FlyAway bus from the airport into Union Station. I took the Gold Line in from Pasadena and met them at Patsouras Plaza (the modern end of Union Station where the buses come in), then we all took the Amtrak Surfliner train up to Grover Beach for a visit with the moms and others.

Tuesday we went to Pismo Beach, had clam chowder and bought some shells (I got a really nice one for Steve [my Steve]). I only stayed until Tuesday afternoon and came back to L.A. on the train, since I had to get ready for the license-getting and wedding-doing on Thursday and Friday, respectively.

Well, we have lots written about that, so I'll skip to Saturday, when Steve and I actually did some grocery shopping (but not enough) and watched a DVD before heading down to Olvera Street, which is the historic center of Los Angeles and happens to be across the street not only from Union Station, but also from the hotel at which Steve et al., were overnighting before jumping the FlyAway to LAX and a return to Wisconsin.

Dinner was at El Paseo Inn, which is a restaurant that's been on Olvera Street forever. Mom, sister Kittie and her husband David drove down just for the dinner, which was really touching for me (you know how I hate to drive). Robin and Evan (refer to wedding entries) also joined us.

The appetizer platters were excellent but the mole sauce (a wedding meal staple) was pedestrian. There were 13 in the party and the waiter didn't seem to know how to deal with that many people. Also Dave Willmon, a longtime friend of Steve's (which doesn't mean what it used to) attended with his new(ish) wife, so the party devolved into several jabbering groups (which every good party should do).

We all broke up around 10; Amanda and Emily wanted to go drinking. Cousin Robin wanted to join them. Me, I had to get home and get ready for a workday on Sunday.

We had loads of fun and are considered it a dry run for the reception we're planning for next spring. More on that as it develops. (Note to self: Hawaiian shirt/Tiki theme may not be that tacky after all.)

Sunday, August 10, 2008

My Turn

I wanted to put some of my thoughts about our wedding down on "paper" also. This past week has shown me that I should never sell life short. I have had the most amazing experience of my life. Since I met Mark I have not only found the love of my life, but a new family and support system as well. Ever since I first met Mark's family, I have been accepted, loved and been included in their lives. Since we have been together there have been mostly good times with a couple of not-so-good times thrown in for seasoning (see posts on my last job.)

This past week has been the highlight (so far) of my journey with Mark. Today I feel truly at peace. Friday I married the man of my dreams.........that's right...MARRIED. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would ever get married. Today I am. I am looking forward to a life of happiness with the Love of my life (I'm sure there will be some downs also....I'm not completely deluded) but know that whatever comes along we will be able to face events together. I still have a little trouble realizing that we are a team. Mark reminds me occasionally that I am still thinking "single". He is absolutely correct. I spent do much of my life doing for myself that after three years together I still fall back into old habits once in a while. I guess growth is part of the journey.

Our wedding on Friday changed my whole perception of what being together is all about. At the dinner/reception we had last night I commented to Mark's cousin, Robin, that even though we had the Registered Domestic Partnership thing going on, it still felt like Marriage-Lite. Now I feel completely joined with Mark and his life. I signed up with a great organization that is working to maintain the right to same-sex marriage. It is called LetCaliforniaRing.org.

If you get a chance, check it out.

I guess I had better get back to doing laundry, but I wanted to post my happiness, as well as my hope for a bright future for all of us.

The picture I am attaching pretty well sums up how I feel today.

Saturday, August 9, 2008

Get Me to the Park On Time

Well, it's official: Beuford has two daddies. So do the cats, Buddy and Marcel, but since they consider us house servants, I suppose it doesn't mean much to them. Steve and I were both nervous, but it was a going-to-Disneyland-for-the-first-time nervous and not a having-major-surgery nervous.

It happened Friday, which was 8-8-08. Supposedly a lucky day to get married. We took the appointment because it was available, but it did end up being lucky, and we all had a great time.

Steve and I picked up John (his best man) in South Pasadena and we drove to West Hollywood, where the service took place. A block and a half from City Hall in a little pocket park called Kings Road Park, the coordinator and officiant were waiting. We had decided on a theme of Hawaiian shirts, since it was easy to pull off and the weather was hot. It turned out to be a great success, with everyone coordinating and blending into the lush green of the park.

Cousin Robin (my best man) and her husband Evan (to whom we are indebted for the photos) had arrived a few minutes before us and had gone up the street to get bananas at Gelson's market. (I don't know if this had anything to do with the fact that she had bananas on her print dress or not.)

We filled out the final paperwork (keeping inside the boxes, which seemed extremely important to the county government), then found the small flowered arch set up in the back of the park for the ceremonies. Our officiant was Lunita Bock (normally the HR manager for the city), and after a few questions, we had a short, sweet ceremony. When we exchanged rings, I put out my right hand but caught the mistake in time. (this is what the reheasal is for, I guess), and in no time at all, we were married people. Everybody cried at some point, but not to the point of disrupting the ceremony.

Afterwards, the five of us went to the French Market just up the street on Santa Monica where Robin and Evan presented us with a wedding gift of a pair of lovely champagne flutes from Tiffany's. We all had a late lunch and lots of fun gab. John was definitely taken with Robin and Evan, and said so repeatedly on the ride back to South Pasadena.

We spent the rest of the day kicking back and getting used to the feel of the rings on our fingers. I've never been one for wearing jewelry, but this ring is so comfortable. It fits very nicely, and it feels natural wearing it. I do have to say I'm thankful I couldn't legally get married 20 or 30 years ago, because I would have been divorced at least once by this point. I'm glad it happened when I was in love with someone who I know is a really great part of my life, and I want to keep him in it forever.

So far I haven't seen any heterosexual marriages suffering because of our own wedded bliss. I think that's a fear that folks will soon realize was totally unfounded. If anything, same-sex marriage will help bolster the institution which so many feel so compelled to protect from the queer nation.

This evening is a reception of sorts at El Paseo Inn on Olvera Street in Los Angeles. I chose it because of its proximity to the hotel where Brother Steve and family are overnighting before their return to Wisconsin (a blog about my visit with them on the Central Coast will follow soon). It seems appropriate, since what was a dinner for them has morphed into a reception dinner for us. And since Olvera Street is the birthplace of Los Angeles, it seems fitting as the start of what will become a California tradition in no time at all: Rejoicing that we all have the same rights and freedoms.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Vacation, Unused Pix

This is the first official day of my vacation week. Normally I would be in at work today, but here I sit at home. We just watched the last of our Netflix movies for the week ("The Bucket List") and are upstairs doing office type things like paying bills. I downloaded variouos pictures from my iPhone that I had taken and meant to use in blogs, but never got around to writing them. This first one is a shot of jacaranda. Did you know they have bipinnate leaves and panicles of showy usually blue flowers? It's true; Merriam-Webster says so.

Tomorrow (Monday) I will be meeting my brother Steve and his wife Pam, daughter Emily (and maybe other-daughter Amanda) at Union Station. They're coming into LAX from Wisconsin, and we will all be taking the train up to Arroyo Grande for a visit. Hopefully, I'll remember to take lots of pictures to share here. If I'm true to form, though, I'll probably forget to until the last 20 minutes of the visit, and everything will be posed. I come back on Tuesday to get ready Wednesday to go to West Hollywood on Thursday to get the marriage license for the ceremony on Friday. (Am I obsessed with this or what?) On Saturday we'll all get together at Olvera Street for a reception/goodbye dinner for Steve and I and Steve and Pam and the girl(s).

Okay. Here's another picture; an interior of the Red Line subway train (well, actually, the Purple Line subway train, but they're all the same color. I know it's confusing, which is why a lot of people who want to go to North Hollywood on the Red Line end up at Wilshire and Western, the terminus of the Purple Line). This is the the subway I take to work every morning (except when I'm on vacation, like now). It seems very empty but that's because I had just gotten on at Wilshire and Western. Within a few stops, the train was packed with people. During rush hours, all trains and buses are pretty much standing room only, and it's not unusual to have to wait for the next bus or train to even get on.

And finally, a shot of the headquarters of IndyMac Bank, which was recently taken over by the government because of insolvency. It's just a couple blocks from our house here in Pasadena. Who says you have to go to Wall Street in New York City to see the failure of the American economy?

I'm starting to get excited because I just realized that I'm going to have to pack a bag for tomorrow, and that I'll be seeing the Wisconsin quarter of the clan very soon. Whenever I visit with my brother Steve (who is a political science professor), we talk about very complex and profound things, and I always end up feeling terribly intelligent just being able to keep up; it I make a joke he likes, I feel like an insightful genius.

I'd better sign off: my Steve is sitting at his computer playing Super Collapse, which means he's probably bored and waiting for me to finish, and so I shall.