Pedal Faster, Dorothy

Solution and Disolution

2008-05-19T20:10:00.003+01:00

Sometimes solutions to problems are right under your nose. I had a difficult time trying to decide what to do about Jack's ranch and horses. Then one day my friend, Maria, offered to ride with me as I scattered his ashes.

I have know Maria since the early 1980s. We became fast friends in record time. When we met she was the secretary of an important client of mine. One of the first things I learned in business was to be extra nice to secretaries ... especially helpful when you want to get through to their bosses. With Maria, we jumped from business acquaintances to good friends in no time at all.

What a life this woman has led. She was born in Amsterdam in 1934 and lived under the German occupation during World War II. She was born to a Jewish father and a half Jewish mother making her 3/4 Jewish under Nazi racial purity laws. Her parents had the foresight and money to have Maria's birth certificate replaced with one that read "Father Unknown". When the Germans began rounding up Jews in Holland they sent full Jews and 3/4 Jews to the concentration camps. Half Jews were spared ensuring her mother's safety. Maria's father was sent to Auschwitz and was gassed the day he arrived. Maria's mother was called to Gestapo headquarters and grilled about Maria's paternity. Her mother replied she didn't know who was her father because "times are hard ... a woman has to do what a woman has to do" and that saved Maria from a death camp. Earlier her parents had converted most of their money into loose diamonds that that her mother wore in a pouch around her neck. Maria was told that if anything happened to her mother she was to take that pouch and run. They managed to survive the occupation on the money her mother got from selling those stones on the black market. After the war her mother remarried and they emigrated to the US after first living in Cuba and Costa Rica.

I soon found out that Maria's real passion was horses. She is an excellent horsewoman. Other than the brief time when I first met her as a secretary she has trained horses, owned stables, and worked exclusively in that field. When she moved from Texas she settled in Arizona. I would always visit her when I came to visit Uncle Jack. She cooked me dinner many times during Jack's illness. She saddled up and rode with me when I scattered his ashes ... later that night after we had nearly killed a bottle of 18 year old Glenlivet she opened up to me. Times were difficult for her. Unknown to me she was barely getting by on her small social security check. Suddenly the solution to my problem became clear. I offered to let Maria live in Jack's house at the ranch for free and pay her a salary if she would manage the place. I knew she would take excellent care of the horses and it meant I need not sell the ranch. It would always be available when I wanted to stay there. She gratefully accepted.

Having solved that problem I headed to Houston to tackle another one. My company needs an office there for many reasons. If you are in the oil business you need a presence there. Our growth has been phenomenal. We have entered into joint ventures with Schlumberger, Dresser Atlas, BP, and Exxon making a Houston office a necessity. Another reason to open an office there is my partner, Scott wants to move back to Houston. His children and grandchildren are there. So we decided he would head up our US operations and I would handle the international from London. While in Houston I got to catch up with friends and family while taking care of business.

Unfortunately while dealing with Jack's illness, his death, and my company's business my personal life was unraveling. This may be the only time I mention this subject. I have become a gay statistic. I am now an ex. The BF and I have broken up. We decided after much talk and agonizing that dissolving our partnership would be best for us both. My feelings about this are private. I may ... or may not discuss them here in the future but for now the details and reasons I will keep to myself. I will only say that he is a wonderful man and I wish him all happiness and that I hope we always remain best friends. I think that is the standard PR verbiage for these situations. This must be the season for breakups. Two other gay bloggers I read have had their own breakups recently. I know exactly how they feel.

Arizona interval.

2008-04-07T22:45:00.005+01:00

I've been in Arizona since the last week in January. It wasn't a planned trip. I got a call from Dark in LA saying that my Uncle Jack was in the hospital and I should hurry if I wanted to see him. That was the second worst phone call I have ever received. The first was to tell me BC had died.

For maybe the first time in my life I was glad I had money. I chartered a plane and was over the Atlantic within 2 hours. Another first - for the first time I flew transcontinental without drinking. I wanted to be clear headed and sober when I landed. I kept playing one of those ridiculous games you play as a child making bargains with God. "Please God, don't let him die before I get there and I will ... do anything you want. Please God, let Uncle Jack know that I'm there and ... I promise to ... be good for the rest of my life". It was a long flight and I had plenty of time to bargain and to worry.

My Uncle Jack was my mother's baby brother, the youngest of seven. He was also my last living uncle. Jack was my favorite uncle for thousands of reasons. He was also the favorite sibling of all his brothers and sisters. They all loved Jack. My grandmother, who after giving birth to her seventh child might have had reason to be matter of fact about him, said he was the sweetest child of all her children. His brothers looked out for him and his sisters adored him. It's a wonder he turned out like he did with all the spoiling.

Uncle Jack was the first adult that talked to me as an equal. He didn't talk down to me or ignore my childish concerns. He patiently answered all my questions in detail and always seemed glad to see me. As soon as he could after graduation Jack moved to Arizona from Texas. Jack was in love with the Southwest his entire life. Jack also loved horses. He raised them, trained them and sold them. And he had a second career as an extra in westerns shot in Phoenix and Tucson.

Many of the TV westerns I grew up on were filmed at Apacheland Studios in the Superstition Mountains around Phoenix and Jack worked in most of them. Have Gun, Will Travel; Wanted: Dead or Alive,Death Valley Days, Dundee and the Culhane, Stagecoach West, and Zane Grey Theater were all shot at one time or another at Apacheland. Jack was head wrangler there, supplied most of the horses for the series and movies and took bit parts. I loved to show my friends my cowboy uncle on TV, great bragging rights when you are an eight year old.

Every year for as long as I could remember my parents would take me to Uncle Jack or he would drive to Houston and pick me up during summers and I would stay for several weeks.
He taught me to ride a horse. Hell, he taught me many things. I doubt I would have become an Eagle Scout if not for Jack. When I got my presidential letter I gave it Jack. He framed it and it still hangs on the wall of his den.

He took me to Apacheland and I got to meet all sorts from the actors to the wranglers, the directors, make up people, grips, and extras. It fueled my interest in acting. Jack always supported my interests. When I did plays and musicals in Houston he often drove from Arizona to see me perform. He hated flying and always drove. My dad might have missed many of my shows but not my Uncle Jack.

As I got older my relationship with Jack grew stronger. I could talk to him about anything and did. I told him I was gay before I ever told my parents. His reaction was important to me. He never missed a beat, told me right away that he didn't care who I loved as long as they loved me back. My own parents reaction was not as understanding. In fact, my father told me I should stay away from home for a while because my mother was so upset. That was a gut punch. I told him they would have to ask me over before I would visit again. When Uncle Jack heard about it he evidently read my mother the riot act. Later she would tell me he told her he had never been so ashamed of her. He told her I was going to need more of her love not less and that he was disappointed in her. That probably shook her up more than my news. In any case my parents and I worked through it.

Over the years BC and I made a point to visit Jack. Those two got along famously. He always introduced us to people as his boys. Jack came to Houston when BC died. He sat on my left with Paula at my right during the funeral. BC's death shook Jack. A year later when I tried to commit suicide his was one of the first faces I saw when I regained consciousness. He flew to Tennessee as soon as he was informed. He had white knuckled it the entire flight just to get to me. He didn't lecture me about it. He just asked me to promise him I would never do it again. And I gave him my word that I wouldn't.

One of the first weekends after I moved to LA to be with Dark I took him to meet Uncle Jack. Later I asked him what he thought of Dark and he just said "The man loves you. That makes him aces in my book." That was Jack, simple and straightforward.

For the last two months I have run back and forth between the hospital and Jack's ranch. I would feed the horses and put them in the pastures then run to the hospital and stay all day then race back to bring the horses to the barn and blanket them. Nights were still cold for a while. Jack's neighbors came by and helped out. His friends were many. As he grew weaker and speech got harder I started bringing him books and I sat and read to him. I had just finished reading Louis L'Amour's A Trail to the West two days go when he died. I was holding his hand. Per his wishes I had him cremated and I picked up his ashes this morning. This weekend I'm going to saddle up his horse and take him up in the Superstition Mountains and scatter his ashes.

I dropped everything to come to Jack's bedside. I told Scott he had to run the company until I could return. I'm lucky my partner is also my good friend. He just told me to go. A large portion of the success I have achieved in business I owe to Jack. I went to Jack for advice when I wanted to start my first company. He talked it through with me and told me to go for it. One week later I got a check in the mail for $25,000 from Jack with a note - "dream big". That stake got me started. When I sold the company later Jack got a check for over a million dollars for the ten percent of the company I had given him in gratitude. He used to laugh with people that he could never get mad at me I made him rich. But it was Jack that made my life richer. I opened Jack's will today. It was simple like Jack. It was dated 1973 with two codicils added in 2006. He left everything to me with a bequest to the Superstition Mountain Museum. The original will had a bequest to BC for $10,000. The other codicil gave Dark the same amount. That was my Uncle Jack for you.

I have a lot to do yet. I can't bring myself to sell the ranch right now. Besides there are Jack's horses to take care of. So here I am in Arizona trying to figure out my next move. Only this time I can't talk to Jack about it.

dumbing down the hood

2008-01-06T19:07:00.000Z

The collective IQ on our street in LA has taken a sudden turn south. For the part I played I apologise to our neighbors. Kimora Lee Simmons just bought a house two down from ours ... and I just accepted Jessica Simpson's offer for ours. Dark is headed to LA to pack everything up and put it all in storage until we find a new one.

Sigh, if only Nick Lachey were the buyer ... probably wouldn't raise the quotient much but it sure would have improved the view.

Six weeks - condensed

2007-12-03T22:48:00.000Z

We are finally back home in London. The last six weeks is a blurry memory of highs and lows, of temper tantrums, holiday meals, parties, wildfires, union strikes, burglary and gunshots, two-shots and closeups, prison sentences, super star fundraisers, family reunions, realtor meetings, house hunts, quick business trips, and wedding plans. I have taken the day off today to decompress and try to sort out my feelings about the last six weeks and to try to make some plans. I'm taking no calls from the office or the west coast and the boyfriend has been sent off to do his Christmas shopping with instructions not to call or come home until dark. Dark, dark, darkness, darkly - Dark Lee, Darky Dark, Dark Victory, Dark of the Moon, Dark-Ray Productions, the dark prince is too big a distraction for what I need today. I need some quiet Ray time.

The trouble with not blogging regularly is that I tend to focus on the bigger events in my so called life. I guess today's blog isn't going to be any different. I want to try to blog more next year and focus more on my feelings about daily things. The blogs I like to read are the ones that involve you in the everyday lives of their writers. I tend to be more of a story teller. I want to change that. New Years resolution number one: blog more frequently and more about what's on my mind.

But for now it's back to the last six weeks.

Temper Tantrums
Dark had a tantrum in one of the private rooms at The Abbey. He had arranged a birthday party for on of his friends, August, another vfx artist. He rented one of the private rooms and invited about 15 guys including August's on again, off again boyfriend for drinks. Drinks were served while the birthday presents were opened. Dark picked up the drinks tab and then everyone decided they were hungry and ordered dinner off the menu. Came time to pay for the dinner check everyone chipped in to cover their part ... everyone that is except for the on again, off again boyfriend of the birthday boy. He had also arrived gift less and spent most of the evening making digs at August. When the bill was passed to him he declined to chip in saying August would pay his share. A tense embarrassed silence followed. I reached for my wallet intending to pick up the entire check to defuse the situation when Dark snapped "Take your hand off your wallet. I have already paid for our dinners and for August's dinner". Then he grabbed the check and told the on again, off again boyfriend how much he owed. The guy whined he didn't have any money and his dinner should be included with August's. Then Dark exploded. He stood up throwing his napkin on the table and launched into one of the the most awesome verbal attacks I have ever witnessed. He verbally tore the guy a new asshole. After he finished he sat down and when the rest of the stunned party recovered they all started clapping and cheering while the on again, off again boyfriend stood and slunk away. Watching your boyfriend shout and visibly shake with rage and righteous indignation is ... well, stimulating. I couldn't wait to get him home and jump his bones.

Holiday Meals
I had my usual orphan Thanksgiving dinner. This year 22 people showed up and it turned out to be one of the best to date. I started with a chorizo pumpkin soup with onion and cilantro garnish. For veggies I made seasoned corn with roasted chiles and fresh serrano chiles; cranberry-mango relish with onion, jalepeno, cilantro, lime juice and honey; ancho chiles stuffed with sweet potato. Roast turkey with mexican cornbread stuffing and chile gravy was the meat. And I finished it off with pumpkin flan and a tequila key lime pie. Oddly enough no one asked for Rolaids or Maalox.

Parties
Our annual Halloween party was populated by assorted Marie Antoinette drag queens, sexy nurses, Renaissance vampires, buff felines, homo cowboys, and a smattering of super heroes. Dark decided since we both busy with film work and organizing the party we would simply wear our tuxes. As it turned out the decision not to wear heavy makeup and costumes was fortuitous given what happened in the wee hours of the next morning.

Wildfires
Southern California was plagued with several wildfires while we were in LA. A big one in Malibu coincided with another huge one in San Diego. One friend of ours in a Malibu canyon was evacuated but returned to find his house had been spared. The fire had simply jumped his house and then proceeded down the canyon to burn out his neighbors. These natural disasters are so random and one of the prices we pay for living in paradise.

Union Strikes
The Writers Guild of America strike shut down production on the film I am in but all my scenes were shot before it started. I had a small part in a The Riches episode but production is shut down on that sitcom and no one knows when it will resume shooting. I could care less. I enjoyed acting again but it is never going to be a career move. Dark has lost work but his graphics company has kept him busy. I'm really sorry for those Tonight Show staffers that were told by Jay Leno that their jobs were safe only to get axed by the network. Leno is catching a lot of flak for falsely building up their hopes.

Burglary and gunshots
Back to the early morning hours after our Halloween party ... The party broke up about 1 a.m. and instead of heading off to the boulevard to watch the freak show there Dark and I stayed home. We tipped the caterers, car parkers, security detail, bartenders, and waiters and saw them all leave. Both of us were pooped and decided to just go to bed. Somewhere around 3/3:30 a.m. we were awakened by a gunshot ... a loud gunshot inside our house.

I bolted out of bed and headed to the doorway while Dark grabbed the phone to call 911. Normally the door to our bedroom is shut and locked. But that morning it was open and neither one of us had opened it. I got to the head of the stairs in time to hear another gunshot and see the flash from a gun barrel followed by the sound of breaking glass and a stream of Spanish curse words. Like an idiot I flew down the stairs to find out what the hell was going on. When I rounded the corner to the library I saw a tiny figure whirl around and level a gun at me.

It was in the hand of Carmen, our Mexican live-in housekeeper. She had the night off but had decided to return early to make sure the party debris was cleaned up to her high standards when the cleaning crew arrived later that day. She found the gate wide open and the outside lighting turned off and decided something was wrong. So she left her car at the gates and walked up to the house. She saw flashlight beam moving inside the hose as she approached. Not knowing if it was us or some burglars she let herself in from the service entrance and crept through the kitchen to the main hall. She tried to flip on the lights but nothing happened. That's when she pulled the gun from her purse. She saw a man in a mask carrying a flashlight step out from the library. She said she startled the guy. When he turned and started to run she fired at him. That was the shot that woke us up. He ran back into the library and tried to leave through the french doors to the side yard, they were locked. She fired off a second shot as he dove through a window breaking the glass. Then she started cursing in Spanish because she hadn't hit him. That was the shot, flash, and sounds I heard and saw from the top of the stairs.

All this she blurted out to me while she waved that huge pisol around wildly. In short order Dark appeared and then the police arrived followed by the alarm company security force who were followed by the security people from the neighborhood association. It was then I realized I was standing in the middle of this maelstrum naked ... stark naked. Thank Cher, at least I wasn't naked with makeup on my face. The bf had the foresight to at least throw on a pair of sweatpants. He brought me a robe while we talked to the police. They found the burglar had circumvented the alarm system, cut the phone line, flipped the main circuit breaker cutting the electricity before breaking into the house. There were two paintings from the living room stacked against the wall in the library, the safe was opened, and our watches that had been on our bedroom dresser were laying on the library table. Carmen had prevented him from completing the job.

Thankfully, Carmen had a valid permit for that gun. I was sweating that one out while the police questioned her. The police were gone by 5 and the various security people left by 6. Turns out Brentwood, Beverly Hills and the “Platinum Triangle” of Bel-Air, Encino and Holmby Hills have been hit by a rash of burglaries this year to the tune of over $7 million. The consensus was the burglar got inside the gates as the last of the party staff was leaving and waited until we were asleep to break in.

This job would not have netted the fucker that much. Nothing he had planned to steal was horribly expensive. But one item was priceless - my watch. The watch itself was inexpensive but to me it was worth more than any Rolex, Patek Philippe, Vacheron Constantin, or Girard-Perregaux. When BC and I first met he asked me what kind of watch I wanted if money was no object. I told him if he ever got rich he could buy me a plain gold Patek Phillipe. That first Christmas together in 1970 when I opened his present to me I found a watch. It was a plain simple gold inexpensive Neiman Marcus watch. When I flipped it over to put it on I found it was engraved with " ... next time" on the back. He told me that was all he could afford that Christmas but someday he would buy me the other. Years later when he could afford it he wanted to buy me that Patek Phillipe watch but I stopped him. By then that first watch meant more to me than any diamond encrusted platinum one. I have worn that watch for 37 years. It has had dozens of different bands over the years but the damn thing keeps perfect time. The idea that some sorry shiftless low life almost stole it enraged me. For days I was sorry Carmen's shot missed him.

Crap, it is 10 pm and the boyfriend is back home so I will close for tonight. Tales of two-shots and closeups, prison sentences, super star fundraisers, family reunions, realtor meetings, house hunts, quick business trips, and wedding plans will have to wait until tomorrow or one day this week ... to be continued.

Happy Dance

2007-10-18T17:45:00.000+01:00

Don't hate me.

Excuse me while I do a little Tom Cruise dance on the couch.

Oil prices finished at an all-time high above $89 a barrel today, up $2.07 to settle at $89.47 a barrel, shattering the previous record of $87.61 a barrel reached Tuesday. In after-hours electronic trading crude for November delivery went even higher, hitting $90.02 a barrel. Analysts are saying $100 a barrel is almost inevitable. Since oil is priced in dollars, the declining greenback makes oil less expensive for consumers outside the United States, encouraging more consumption. Higher oil prices means increased exploration by the oil companies to meet demand. Increased exploration means increased need for the services my company provides. Business has been great and is getting better every day.

So while gas prices at the pump and home heating bills rise I apologise. I'm sorry.

Really.
No really, ... I'm sorry.

Now, where are my sunglasses?

Ty and Judy Jo

2007-10-17T07:59:00.000+01:00

Chances are if you went to the theatre in Houston in the sixties you stood a good chance of seeing me act. I did loads of local theatre during that time. The Alley Theater, Theatre Inc., Theatre Under The Stars, Arena Theatre, Theatre Suberbia, Windmill Dinner Theatre, and Main Street Theatre were my stomping grounds growing up. There was one other Houston child that did every bit as much acting and she was a neighbor, Judy Jo Williams. We were in several shows together over the years. Our mothers carpooled us to rehearsals, shows, school, voice and dance classes.

Let me back track a bit. My Mom met the movie star, Tyrone Power in NYC during WWII and said he was the most beautiful man she ever met. When I was born she wanted to name me Ty but my father overruled her. She got around that by branding me with Ty as a nickname and it stuck. For many years no one ever called me Ray, I was known as Ty. Patrick Swayze was known as Buddy Swayze growing up I might add. Southern families love nicknames. Anyway Judy Jo (JJ) was named for Judy Garland, her Mom's favorite actress. So Ty and Judy Jo grew up backstage doing homework, rehearsing, and performing together.

Consequently JJ and I became great friends. In my teens I developed a huge crush on her - which was not returned I must confess. She was one year older and naturally liked older guys. Our last show together was Sound of Music where she played Liesl to my Rolfe. During the last nights of the run whenever I kissed her I would slip her the tongue. Professional that she was she never reacted onstage but the minute we got off she would pinch the crap out of me and hiss "Stop it, Ty! You're too young for me!"

Her senior year in high school JJ got cast in a Broadway show and left Houston for New York accompanied by her mother, the stage mother from hell. For the next year I got her letters sporadically detailing her show, new life, new romance and then she abruptly fell off the radar. When BC and I moved to NY I tried to find her with no success. What I didn't know at the time was she had changed her professional name to Jennifer Williams, packed up and shipped her mom back to Houston, and she had gotten married. Later on I would get these details in bits and pieces form various friends.

Yesterday I reported to Ren-Mar Studios for rehearsals. The studio has been around since 1915 when it started out as Metro Pictures Back Lot 3 then later Desilu Cahuenga Studios where the I Love Lucy series was shot.. Me and Lucy, who'd a thunk it! I was introduced to some of the other cast, given a new script, and then the read through began. The script is pretty funny and I had a ball. Lunch was served and rehearsal broke up about 4. As I headed to my car, lost in my own thoughts about the day's experiences, I heard a voice call out.
"Ty? ... Ty, is that really you?"
I turned around to find Judy Jo standing there. Little Judy Jo Williams. It's an understatement to say I was shocked. Shocked at running into her. Shocked at recognizing her. Shocked at her recognizing me. She's filming a tv pilot on sound stage 3. Turns out after five years in NY she moved to LA. The first husband is gone, she's married to Charlie Dell now. They are coming by for dinner Friday. It was great to find her again.

As we parted she stood on tip toe to kiss me when I pulled back in mock horror saying, "Stop it, Judy Jo! You're too old for me!", which led to another hour of reminicing. So Ty and Judy from Houston, TX made it to Hollywood and like our namesakes are in a movie. Somewhere in heaven my mother and Mrs. Williams are loving this.

48 Days

2007-10-14T00:17:00.000+01:00

We are back in LA having arrived Friday late. I have 48 days until I fly back to London. Time is tight with not a minute to spare. In the next 7 weeks I have to:

* Learn the 26 pages of script rewrites that I should have already memorized.
* Start rehearsals Monday for the movie.
* Shoot my part in the movie. (I hope they have a great craft services table)
* Plan, organize, and hold our 3rd Halloween party. (You are all invited - costumes mandatory)
* Never go to bed before 1 am due to the 9 hour time difference between LA and London so I can talk to Scott every morning at 10 am London time. He is holding down the office while I am gone.
* Get our house ready for the real estate agent to list.
* Sell our house.
* Find a new house that we both love that is a little bigger.
* Buy said new house. (I would say buy and move into the new house but that ain't happening in only 48 days)
* Fly to Houston one weekend to visit and gift the neices, nephew, and grand nephews upholding my status of world's best gay uncle and gay grand uncle.
* While in Houston make a quick trip to visit my 96 year old former father in law.
* Plan, organize, shop for, prepare and host our Orphan Thanksgining dinner.
* Have my annual physical and prostate poke. (No sweet talk or kiss, just bend over and spread 'em)
* Have teeth cleaned and whitened before movie shoots. (No time for that mini face lift. Consider botox.)
* Spend as much time as possible poolside to work on my tan and banish my London palor.
* Drop everything and fly to China to meet Scott and our client if the Chinese deal we are working on gels.
* Make sure NOT to call in a vote for Wayne Newton on Dancing With The Stars.
* Go with the bf to buy us both new clothes asap. I just noticed our California clothes need some restocking. (John Varvados will be able to afford that shiny new Ferrari shortly)
* Call trainer to start the house calls. (My six pack is looking fourish)
* Begin to make list for December - Christmas, Dark's birthday etc.

With so much to accomplish we had to prioritize. Get the most important things out of the way first. So this morning despite the jetlag we went to Disneyland, of course.

** Addendum: Add "Finally meet my blog daughter, Susan" to that list. Happy now, Suzie? *wink*

that damn smile

2007-08-27T17:20:00.000+01:00

Today is Summer Bank Holiday here in the UK. It is also my second anniversary. Two years ago I spent the summer taking Garden Boy around Europe and had just sent him back to the States a week prior. I had decided that would be the end of our relationship. I also decided that day to go to The Royal Academy of Arts to see The Aztecs exhibit. The museum was packed due to the holiday. After wandering around enjoying the exhibit I realized I was famished and headed to the restaurant. The buffet menu there changes to reflect and coordinate with the exhibits. That day they served Mexican.

After getting my food I managed to find one of the few remaining empty tables. I buried my nose in a book I bought at the gift shop and attacked my enchiladas. I was lost in my own world until I heard “Excuse me ... there don’t seem to be any empty tables, do you mind if I join you?” Startled I looked up into the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Normally I don’t like my space invaded and usually would have agreed only to bolt down my food and leave. But those blue eyes were on the face of a gorgeous man with a terrific smile.

I invited him to sit down. He asked what I was reading and reached across the table and turned over my book to see the title. What a cheeky bastard I thought. But that damn smile kept me from getting pissed off. He kept plying me with questions, “Are you American? ... Do you enjoy living here? ... What did you think of the exhibit? ... “ I had to finally shut the book and begin talking. The conversation was free and easy. I’m usually standoffish meeting new people until I relax but he put me at ease immediately ... and then there was that damn smile. We sat and talked until I realized the restaurant had emptied and the place was closing. Then I look down and realized we had barely eaten our food and I was still hungry.

We left the museum and headed to the Atlantic Bar & Grill where we ate and sat talking until it closed at 3am. After that we walked along the Thames Embankment until dawn. The entire time we talked, laughed and told each other all about out lives. I can’t believe I talked that much. We parted at his hotel. He shook my hand in both of his and then leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. All the way home I could not get that damn smile out of my head.

The next day he called and we met for dinner and more talking. Day three I stayed overnight at his hotel. Day four we moved his suitcases into my house where he stayed until he left for LA. I ran up a whopper of a telephone bill over the next few weeks until I grabbed a plane and followed him to LA. And the rest as they say is history.

Today we went back to The Royal Academy of Arts in honor of the occasion to see the Impressionists by the Sea exhibit. The restaurant served seafood crepes. Tonight we’re checking into his old hotel, The Royal Horseguards, and reenacting the night of day three. Now I’m sending this to Blogger so I can find my bf with that damn smile.

Nepotism

2007-07-16T20:29:00.000+01:00

I got an email from my nephew a few weeks ago. His longtime girlfriend dumped him at the beginning of summer. Poor kid. He was moping around the house in Houston and feeling like crap. Oh the tragedy to be twenty and have a broken heart! I called him and he choked up on the phone talking about their breakup (the bitch). I decided then and there to get him out of that environment and give him some breathing space so I offered him a job in London at my company for the summer.

He's been here two weeks now and I can't tell you how impressed I am with this kid. He knows nothing about the oil business but he catches on fast and is thriving on the pace. Scott and I were talking last night about what a natural he is. That's something he didn't get from either parent. He has me thinking about dynasty and maybe letting him take over someday. I won't let him know. I want him to want it badly. Time will tell.

He finally went out Saturday night and didn't get home until Sunday mid morning. ... I think his broken heart is mending.

and how was your weekend?

2007-07-02T13:58:00.000+01:00

I trust you all had a better weekend than me. It was London Gay Pride weekend and the weather was crap. I couldn't get enthused enough to leave the house. Gay Scott and his ex went to Paris for for Paris Pride and asked me to go but I decided to stay home and keep an eye on the pool preparations and be there for the party deliveries. People better be hungry for ribs on this 4th because I have them running out my ears.

I grabbed a box cutter to cut the twine on the butchers package and promptly sliced the base of my thumb. (no alcohol was involved - just my carelessness) Blood went everywhere. I tried direct pressure with little success. In a few minutes it was apparent I was going to need stitches. Jane was out so I had to wrap my hand in a towel then grab an umbrella and head to Chelsea and Westminster Hospital by myself. The hospital is a comfortable walk away but trying to hold an umbrella and also hold my other had up and keep the towel wrapped proved too hard. By the second block I had thrown away the umbrella. The towel was now soaked and blood was running down my arm. I picked up the pace and began to trot while getting soaked by the rain. By the time I reached the hospital A and E I looked like I had survived a stabbing and a drowning. While waiting for the stitches I called the bf. So what if there was an 8 hour time difference? I needed sympathy but got little.

Me: Hi babe. I'm at the hospital getting stitches.
Bf: Mwhuh? What time is it?
Me: Oh shit, must be 3 am there.
Bf: Gimme a sec. What did you say about a hospital?
Me: I tried to cut my hand off and now I'm getting stitches.
Bf: Told you I would be home in 3 weeks. There was no need to cut your wrists.
Me: Ha. I look like a Texas Chainsaw Massacre survivor.
Bf: That's hot. Take pics for me.
Me: You are too sick for words.
Bf: Uh huh, that's why you love me.
Me: I better let you go back to sleep. The doctor just walked in to stitch me up.
Bf: I guess this means your career as a hand model is over. Be more careful, idiot, and call me if he tries to amputate anything below the waist.

Eleven stitches and 2 1/2 hours later I came home to a frantic Jane. She arrived home to find a bloody kitchen and no Ray in sight. We spent the next hour cleaning up the mess.

Sunday was uneventful. I had to cancel plans to go to the Diana Memorial Concert with friends. Clapping would have been out of the question.

One bit of good news though - I'm ambidextrous so I can still spank the monkey.

... It's a return

2007-06-25T13:51:00.000+01:00

My plate is full, folks. And yet I keep piling on new challenges. Can I keep all the balls in the air or is one of them going to fall? Probably on my head. When last we met I was headed to LA and the Silver Lake Film Festival. I had such a blast there and enjoyed some great films. And I got asked to read for a movie. Long story, Reader’s Digest version – I met Hal Hartley and Dark told him I used to act. (yeah, back in the silent era) He asked me to read for his next film. The next day I read ... and got the part. Shooting begins in August. Margo was in town and came by for dinner. She loved that I was going to act again. Next day she called up and said her pal, the casting director for The Riches, was going to call me to read for a small part. She had talked me up. He called and Margo and I met him for lunch. I couldn’t read as the bf and I were headed to Santa Barbara for the weekend but I am supposed to call when I come back next trip and set up an audition.

It’s not a comeback. It’s a return ...

Our road trip up the coast provided some much needed quality time for us. We stayed at the Four Seasons Biltmore on the beach and did the usual touristy things. We hit the art galleries, antique stores, and had some great meals.

We parted at LAX with him flying off to New Zealand and me headed the opposite direction to London. He will be back in London in August for our anniversary then we will head together to LA.

Work at the new company goes full tilt. As I said before our main client at the moment is BP. While I was still the weighing the pros and cons of starting the company I had dinner with an old friend at BP to get his opinion. That friend was John Browne, the former CEO of BP. I have known John for many years and wanted his input. He said it was high time I got back to work and gave me the name of some people to talk to at BP. He pulled no strings for me, just gave me some contacts. Through those contacts I got a contract and my company was born. Anyway, you may have read John resigned from BP last month under a cloud. John was a closeted gay man. He had a relationship with a younger man, a male escort. The relationship ended and the man tried to sell the story to the tabloids. John denied the allegations, got caught in the lie, and resigned. I feel really bad for him. He is a good man that did a stupid thing – he lied under oath. His early departure from BP means he loses about £15/$30 million. Living in the closet has many costs.

Work is going swimmingly (pun intended) on the swimming pool in London. I have offered a bonus to the contractor if he finishes in time for my 4th of July party. Strangely enough for English tradies these chappies are doing a bang up job. Finally I will be able to swim laps every morning before I go to the office.

We had such a good time in LA that we are looking for a new house. There is nothing wrong with our house there. But I have been jonesing for a Mediterranean/Italianate/Spanish/Moorish kinda house lately. ”... a great big white elephant of a place, the kind crazy movie people built in the crazy 20s”. If I’m going to act in movies I need the right kinda house. Right? Right?

Since I can't seem to get Sunset Boulevard out of my head ... Sure I came out here to make my name. Wanted my pool, my dose of fame. Wanted my parking space at Warner's ... I have a guilty little secret to confess. I loved the musical! Yep, I loved an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical. I should be ashamed I know. I am so gay I have seen it 5 times. BC and I saw Patti Lupone (love me some Patti) in it in London, also Elaine Page. Then we saw it in New York with Glen Close (blech), followed by Betty Buckley and then I saw a pared down cheesy touring company version in Houston with Petula Clark (Jay-zus). My favorite Norma Desmond? Elaine Page by far.

Ok, I need to get back to work now ... Sunset Boulevard, twisting boulevard. Secretive and rich, a little scary. Sunset Boulevard, tempting boulevard. Waiting there to swallow the unwary ... Somebody please make it stop!

Shameless plug

2007-05-02T22:53:00.000+01:00

If you are anywhere near LA in the next two weeks and are a fan of independent films do yourself a favor and get tickets to attend the 7th annual Silverlake Film Festival. It starts tomorrow night and runs though May 12th. If you attend tomorrow night you can see "Fay Grim" - the latest feature by Cannes Film Festival winning filmmaker Hal Hartley and starring Parker Posey. Both will be on hand to accept Spirit of Silver Lake Awards and lead a Q and A session after the screening. I am flying to LA Sunday to catch part of the festival after my Cinco de Mayo party on Saturday. Why the plug? Other than being a huge fan of independent films Dark is on the board of directors of the festival of course. So go, buy, attend, support, and enjoy. See you there.

Reason number 896

2007-04-30T04:02:00.000+01:00

I tried to skip my birthday last week. 56 is no milestone and besides I was busy with the new company and Dark was working in New Zealand.

Speaking of my new company we moved into the new offices two weeks ago. Since BP is our major client we decided to office near their corporate headquarters. I found us space in a period building on St. James Square. It’s a short walk from both Green Park or Piccadilly Circus tube stations and a short ride from the South Kensington station. I have no trouble making the commute in the mornings but I can’t seem to navigate the return trip after work. I blame it all on my new friend, Tony Micelotta.

Scott and I decided we needed a drink after work a few weeks ago so we headed to Dukes Hotel bar, a short stroll around the corner. Tony is the head barman. We ordered martinis. Tony rolls out the ingredients on a drinks trolley and mixes them at the table. I have to tell you he makes the absolute best martini I have ever had the pleasure to drink. And they are huge – 5 ounces of gin in each one. Dukes has been officially designated our company bar.

After the first martini I suddenly realized the wisdom in the Dorothy Parker ditty:

I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three I'm under the table,
After four I'm under my host.

So I limit myself to two … two - every day after work. This company better be a huge success soon because Dukes charges £15/$30 for each one. And after two martinis there is no way in hell I’m going to try to ride the tube home so I step outside the hotel and take a taxi home and there goes another £15. Going back to work is getting expensive.

Anyway I was all set to ignore my birthday. I made no special plans and turned down a couple of offers for dinner and drinks with friends. I told Jane I would take her out to eat after I got home from work. When I got home I found a note saying she was working late and to call Dark on MSN. I sat down at the computer, logged onto MSN and started caming with Dark. He looked so tired. He asked me what he could give me for my birthday and I made several lewd suggestions adding they were going to be difficult for him to deliver since he was halfway around the world. He said if that was what I wanted then that was what I was getting and promptly logged off. I sat there laughing still half gassed from my two martinis. A few minutes later he shocked the crap out of me by walking into the room. He had been upstairs the whole time having flown 23 hours in coach to get to London for my birthday. That's why he looked so tired.

So that’s reason number 896 I love him. Reason number 897 is … he gave me exactly what I asked for my birthday.

now for the real fun ...

2007-04-02T20:28:00.000+01:00

Where the hell did March go? Things are happening fast and furious at the moment but everything has been positive and good. To begin, Dark and I are in good shape. Yes, we hit a bump but hey, what relationship doesn’t? He’s finishing post production on Alien vs Predator: AVP2 and The Invasion simultaneously and is meeting me in Rome on Thursday so we can head to Portofino for Easter holiday. Oy! Can you imagine Rome the day before Good Friday? We just spend the night and take the train the next day to Portofino. Next week he flies off to New Zealand where The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian is filming. My guy is in big demand. I know what it’s like to juggle a career and a relationship when you both are working on different continents so I know we can make this work. The ultimate goal is to get him based here in London.

So while he’s busy making movie magic it’s hi ho hi ho... it’s back to work I go. OK, 5 years of retirement is enough. I thought I would get into the property development business but events have taken a different turn. I’m going back to what I know best – the oil industry. I’m starting a company here in London with straight Scott. He and I talked for years about doing something together after he left Exxon. Paula’s death was a tragedy for both of us but we’ve managed to work our way through the grief. He retires from Exxon this summer and since he has remarried he wants to stay in Europe so his new wife can be closer to her family. He finally convinced me to get back into the oil business – and after all the oil bidness been bery bery good to me. He was my house guest last week while he and I had marathon meetings with several oil companies and 2 investment banks. The results were more than I ever expected. We have a signed contract with BP and Exxon and start-up financing from a City investment bank. I’m looking for office space now. I can’t wait to get this up and running; I have missed the action.

Speaking of action ... I just got the necessary planning consents to add a swimming pool to the house here. It’s only taken 2 years of back and forth proposals and changes. The lower ground floor will be gutted and extended under the back garden. Dare I hope for some hot sweaty shirtless construction blokes eye candy? Nah, they will probably all look like fat butt crack plumbers. Jane is moving upstairs to live with us until the flat is rebuilt and I can move her back. She’s family and spends most of her time with me anyway. I spent the weekend making nice with the neighbours on both sides as I’m sure there will be utter chaos going on for months. BC used to say I was at my best when I was juggling projects. I just hope that still holds true because a new start up company, a construction project, and a long distance boyfriend are a lot to juggle. I hope to hell it’s all finished by the time Dark gets here for the summer. I’ll have to stock up on guest swimsuits so you guys send me your sizes. 4th of July pool party anyone? Remember: no one swims for an hour after eating.

This is supposed to be good for the soul

2007-02-26T05:03:00.000Z

Yes, it’s true. If you were at DTPM in London this morning then you probably saw me on the dance floor shaking it to Afro Medusa. Contrary to rumours I was not shirtless nor was I waving a light stick. I’m home now. My 55 year old ass is tired but I haven’t written anything in such a long time and I need to say a few things.

First, I have two handsome great nephews. It was great getting to hold the little guys. They are so small but healthy and thriving. My sister’s face turned positively sour when I told my niece those names, Hunter and Jake, sounded like gay porn star names ... God, I loved that! Made a quick trip to the cemetery to visit BC’s grave and then caught a flight a day early to Los Angeles instead of staying longer in Houston.

Second, if you want to really surprise your boyfriend don’t tell him you’re arriving home a day earlier than planned. That way you can find a strange guy looking way too comfortable sunning himself by your pool. The boyfriend wasn’t at home at the time I need to add, but the look on his face when he walked in the door spoke volumes. Don’t read too much here. No vows were broken but let’s say our relationship has been strained. If anyone wants to buy a beautiful home in Beverly Hills next door to Angie Dickinson and down the street from Jack Nicholson call my realtor.

Third, karma is a bitch and it’s time for a confession. While the boyfriend was guilty of bad judgement, not infidelity, the same can not be said of me. No, I haven’t cheated on him. I learned my lesson years ago. You see, I was unfaithful to BC. It’s a sordid little tale but I need to tell it and the boyfriend needs to read it.

So here goes ... there are no innocents to protect except BC but the innocent and the guilty are both dead so I don’t need to change names. I alone am left to tell the story. In my garden of good and evil there has never been a more beautiful or incidious flower than Bonnie Weeks. I met Bonnie while in high school in Houston. We were both active in UIL drama competitions and later studied under Cecil Pickett. Friends of ours told each of us separately that we had to meet each other, we were made for each other. Our first meeting was electric. Never in my life have I had such a strong sense of kindred spirit. All those things you revel in discovering with a new love were just automatically understood in the first 15 minutes. In two days we were lovers and besotted with each other. When I left for the University of Texas in 1969 she stayed in Houston to go to the U of H and we decided our relationship wasn’t strong enough to survive the separation so we decided to end things.

One year later I ran into Bonnie at the Palace gay bar. She had come out of the closet and so had I. I introduced her to BC. Things seemed cordial enough. They got along. But there was still this lingering attraction between us and it did create a tension. A year later her mother died at the age of 42 of ovarian cancer. I was at her side during the whole ordeal. Later that year all of us moved to New York. I saw less and less of her after that. Bonnie started to move in bigger circles. Then in 1980 out of the blue I got a call from her.

At that time she had been a theatrical agent for a few years. I had started my first company and was enjoying a measure of success. She called to ask me to back a play she wanted to produce off Broadway, A Couple White Chicks Sitting Around Talking. She was the agent for Dorothy Lyman who had just won a daytime Emmy playing Opal Gardiner on All My Children. Lyman was to direct. I talked it over with BC and decided to do it. The play ran for over a year and was a minor hit. It opened with Susan Sarandan and Eileen Brennan in the leads. Anne Archer and Geraldine Page followed. Sarandan was even nominated for a Drama Desk Award.

During the rehearsals and the run of the show I flew to New York practically every weekend to hold hands, offer advice, and look after my investment. It was during that time Bonnie and I rekindled our romance. It was a heady time. We would leave rehearsals or the show, walk down the street and watch rehearsals of other shows like Dreamgirls. Bonnie was in a relationship with another girl at the time and I was with BC. We operated like thieves in the night. Neither one of us was honest with our partners. We hid it. I must tell you it didn’t feel good. Both of us developed an ulcer. The show ended and so did the romance. During that time I learned about Bonnie’s cocaine problem. Her share of the profits from the show went up her nose and it took threats of legal action to get my original investment returned. We didn’t talk for nearly a decade.

Then in 1989 I got another call from Bonnie. She had moved back to Houston from Los Angeles and was down on her luck. She spent the prior few years working as a gardener. Even so, she had still moved in famous circles doing the gardens of Annie Lennox and Polly Bergen among others. In the intervening years I learned many things about Bonnie. She hurt many people and caused a lot of damage. Despite this information and our bitter parting I agreed to meet her. She was never more beautiful and I am ashamed to say in just a few days we were back in bed again. It didn’t last long. But before our final break I moved her into an apartment in a building BC and I owned. I had her utilities and phone service opened in my name with the understanding she would pay the bills. In two months she moved out leaving me with several thousand dollars of bills. It was nothing new for her. It was a pattern she repeated many times with many people. It was a small price to pay to have her out of my life. She left me the book Portrait of a Marriage chronicling the marriage of bisexuals, Vita Sackville West and Harold Nicolson during that time. She had called us Vita and Harold and said we had to visit Sissinghurst Gardens at their home in England someday. How in the world you might ask was I able to do this to BC not once but twice. I don’t have a good answer. It was a serious flaw in my character that I feel utter shame admitting. I keep hearing that line from Dangerous Liaisons, “It was beyond my control … “. But that is no excuse. There is none. Five years later Bonnie died at the age of 42 of ovarian cancer just like her mother.

One spring day in London in 2001 BC and I were reading the Sunday newspapers. In the garden section of the Telegraph was a picture spread of the famous Sissinghurst Gardens. I read the article and mused out loud that he and I should go there sometime. In a second he screamed at me, “Fuck you! Fuck Sissinghurst Gardens! … And fuck her! You go there alone!” Although he had never confronted me with my infidelity he knew about it all along. Later that night he told me he had forgiven me years before but he had never forgotten. My idle mention of those gardens had hurt him enough to finally lash out. Many tears were shed that night but that was the last time we ever discussed it. I was partnered with an extraordinary man for 32 years. I did not deserve him.

I’m partnered with another good man today. He’s not perfect, I'm certainly not, but we're still together.

birth announcement

2007-02-06T00:52:00.000Z

This morning in Houston, TX my eldest niece gave birth to twin boys. They weren't due until March 29. She went for a scheduled appointment with her multiple birth doctor doctor who told her her blood pressure was 190/100. He sent her immediately to her regular doctor. By the time she got there her blood pressure was 225/125 and she was admitted straight into the hospital. Lucking she had no signs of preeclampsia and the babies were delivered this morning.
Both boys weighed 4.5 lbs and will have to stay in the hospital for a few weeks but mother and sons are doing fine.

The first born was named Hunter 'Ray' and the second was named Jake Michael. My niece had asked me to be there in March for their birth. I was there for hers 26 years ago. The premature delivery coupled with me being in London ruled out my being there. But I'm flying to Houston this weekend to meet my great nephews. I'll be busy this week. There are college funds to create. I need to register them at Eton. Then Cambridge or Oxford? Are they too young for ponies?

tidying up ...

2007-01-02T20:28:00.000Z

I’m glad 2006 is history. It was a good year for me but lacked real focus. By focus I mean knowing what I want to do when I grow up. My first career was satisfying. Now I’m ready to throw myself into a second one. If BC had lived we would probably still be retired and travelling but it didn’t happen that way. The bf is at the top of his game career wise and that has motivated me to get busy again. What I want to do next is property development. BC and I dabbled in that in the eighties and I enjoyed it. Dark and I have been talking and he’s encouraged me to try my hand at it again. He would prefer I do it in LA but I’m going to start in London.

Last week we sent the niece and nephew back to Houston and took down all the Christmas decorations. We talked about spending New Years Eve in Paris but decided to stay home instead. A few friends came to dinner and we wound up on the roof deck at midnight. Some of the fireworks were visible. It beat Millennium New Years Eve by a mile. BC and I were in the mob around Big Ben for that one being trampled, pushed, and shoved – never again.

Now I start looking at properties to develop. The smart thing would be to do a single flat first to get my feet wet again but I’m leaning toward buying a building with multiple flats. The hassles are the same if it’s one flat or an entire building. I have the experience of buying and redoing my house here and dealing with all the problems associated with getting the planning consents for a grade II building. English contractors and tradies are deservedly notorious for being lazy and sloppy but I can kick ass and motivate with the best of them. I’m psyched for the challenge. Now where can I find a bull whip in London? Oh yeah, a Soho sex shop ...

Two birthdays passed last week without mention here. One was inconsequential but the other deserves acknowledgement. First for the unimportant one – Pedal Faster, Dorothy turned 2 Christmas Day. Whether or not it sees a third is up in the air but for now its option has been renewed. (see how you talk when your bf is in the biz?). Speaking of the bf brings me to the second birthday – his, the one that deserved celebration. He turned 44 on the 28th. He got a party at Gordon Ramsey’s Chelsea restaurant and some porn star quality sex when we got home. Belated public Happy Birthday wishes, babe!

I wish us all health and happiness in 2007. Now lets get busy.

Duck Duck now Goose

2006-12-24T19:54:00.000Z

I’ve cooked plenty of ducks over the years. I make a mean duck l’orange and duck with calvados and apples. Turkeys are no problem. But I have never cooked a goose. So guess what I’m cooking for Christmas dinner tomorrow? I’m roasting a goose. I picked up a fresh one from Allen & Company because I have a recipe I’ve wanted to try for years. Yesterday I put the bird in a huge pot of boiling water for 2 minutes until ... yes, the skin got goose bumps. Now it’s resting in the refrigerator until I roast it tomorrow. So while my U.S. buds are waking up and opening their presents I will already have made Christmas breakfast and will be stuffing that goose’s ass with a shitake and wild rice dressing.

Once again Dark was able to sweet talk (read bribe with money) my evil sister into letting my niece and nephew spend Christmas with us. It was touch and go whether they could get here with fog causing delays and cancellations at Heathrow. Gay Scott’s flight to Australia was delayed a day. Thankfully he left me his car and I was able to pick the kids up at the airport yesterday. I love having them here including all the noise they make. Right now Dark and my nephew are lying on the floor playing Resistance: Fall of Man on the PS3 and yelling their lungs out. My niece has Artic Monkeys blaring. The racket is all music to my ears. It’s a great Christmas eve so far and if the noise does start to bother me I can always stick my head up the goose.

Polonium 210 and Dickens

2006-12-04T20:33:00.000Z

I thought I was loosing my mind last weekend. I had my suitcases laid out in one of the bedrooms and started throwing my clothes in them. I had errands to run and would stop and start with the packing. After a while I noticed some of the things I thought I had packed were missing. I’d go look in the closets or dresser and there they would be as if I had never moved them. I was busy and preoccupied and assumed I was getting absent minded so I’d pick them up and put them back in the suitcases. It wasn’t until late Sunday after I really got serious with the packing that I caught Dark taking a pile of my underwear out of a suitcase and sneaking it back into our bedroom. Aw, isn’t that too saccharine for words? He didn’t want me to leave.

I had a good flight to London Monday. My seatmate was Rachel Griffiths and her baby. Normally I hate flying next to a baby but this child, Adelaide Rose, was a trooper. She never cried or wiggled or pooped and smelled or anything. In fact, I held the tyke each time Rach, I call her Rach now, would go to the bathroom. (Eat your hearts out because I now know the plotlines of the next six episodes of Brothers & Sisters). Normally I believe babies should be banned from first class. Why should I pay the obscenely high ticket price and be subjected to a crying baby? However I will gladly give Adelaide Rose Taylor an exemption. Rachel was on my flight with her daughter while her husband was on another flight with their son, Banjo. Rachel is another charming delightful Australian. After she talked about growing up on the Gold Coast I asked if she would say hello to gay Scott, a fellow Gold Coaster, at Heathrow when he picked me up. She graciously agreed. I wish I had a picture of Scott’s face when Rach and I strolled out of Passport Control together. All he could do was say “Jesus, it’s Brenda”. He had just finished watching all 5 seasons of Six Feet Under on dvd. Priceless.

God, I love being back in London! Jet lagged like crazy Tuesday morning I stumbled over to The Regency Hotel and had a full English breakfast. Just hope I got the polonium-free scrambled eggs. Following the Russian spy poisoning story has kept me intrigued. I see a board game here. Jane and I are going to the Barbican tomorrow night to see Mark Ravenhill’s Dick Whittington and his Cat. I intend to OD on pantos and Christmas shows before Dark arrives. I can’t believe I fell for a guy that isn’t a theatre buff. Movie people! Yesterday I brought down the Christmas decorations and am hitting the shops this week for new ones. The inside of this house is going to look like a Dickens set. Anyone know where I can rent a cripple kid? ... Maybe I can get Rach to loan me Banjo to play Tiny Tim for the holidays.

Aloha

2006-11-17T01:09:00.000Z

We’ve been in Maui since Monday for some much needed relaxation and alone time.I can’t say I was exactly thrilled there was a shark attack just a few miles away two days before we arrived, especially since the bf insists on surfing. Saturday we fly back. He better be flying back with 2 arms and 2 legs.

Dark just finished 300 and starts working on Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer on Monday. That will keep him busy until The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian starts in February.

I shift into high gear to get ready for Thanksgiving as soon as we land. I’m having my traditional orphan Thanksgiving. If you have no place to go for Thanksgiving you are welcome at my table. So far I have 14 rsvps. Nothing catered this year; I’m cooking the whole thing ... with Carmen’s help that is. Halloween is the bf’s favourite holiday and Thanksgiving is mine. One thing won’t be the same though; I’ll miss Sam in the kitchen begging for turkey. Thanksgiving was his favourite too.

Monday the 27th I fly back to London to start getting ready for Christmas. Dark will be busy in LA so I can do my Christmas shopping for him in peace. I am so ready to get back to London. I seem to miss it more and more. I would really like to spend more time there next year. In fact I’m planning on doing that. Now I just need to tell the bf. I may be missing an arm/leg or head when I do.

scenes from the boulevard

2006-11-01T22:35:00.000Z

After the party we went to Hollywood Boulevard to watch the freak show. We weren't disappointed. These two might have been tasteless but ...

Halloween 2006 – Halloween 1978

2006-10-31T00:56:00.000Z

The past couple of weeks have been chaotic but mostly fun. I’ve been busy organizing the latest DarkRay production, Halloween Party II, the sequel. I decided to hire an event planner this year. Today the house and yard are being over run by a team of decorators and special effects people. Special night time outdoor lighting, fake tombstones, and fog machines are being installed in the front and back yards as I type. I’m just trying to stay out of the way. The cats are hiding under the bed.

Tomorrow the caterers, waiters, bartenders, valet parkers, florists and a makeup artist arrive. Funeral wreaths will be in the main rooms. The planner has a photographer coming and party photo CDs will be mailed to the guests. Fuck, they’re even getting gift bags when they leave. It’s all for the bf. As I said last year Halloween is his favourite holiday so this is all for him. He becomes such a kid this time of year ... and frisky ...

Grab ass anyone?

But last week had its share of sadness. We had to make a quick trip to San Francisco. My old friend, Kerry, died and we went to his memorial service. Kerry had a bad heart for years and this wasn’t entirely unexpected. He’d given me plenty of scares over the years about his health. He was one of the first gay men I ever met. I met him in my teens doing musicals at Theatre Inc. in Houston. Kerry was a dancer, a true chorus boy. He was also the funniest person I ever met. He was a gay Robin Williams. He could riff on anything. His delivery was rapid fire. You had to keep up with Kerry because he never repeated anything. I have cried more tears from laughing at and with him than any other person. He was also the gayest man I have ever met.

One of my favourite memories of Kerry was spending the night at his apartment in Houston one in the 70’s while BC was out of town. Kerry appointed himself my chaperone and baby sitter. After much laugher and way too much to drink we were lying in his bed as I stared at his “woman’s wall”. He had a huge collage of black and white photos of old female movie stars, divas, and female celebrities on one wall – floor to ceiling, totally camp. In my stupor I mutter that most of them were dead and promptly fell asleep. I remember hearing him laughing several times while I slept. I woke with a hangover and it took time for my eyes to adjust to the sunlight pouring through the window. The rays landed on Kerry’s “woman’s wall” which was oddly glinting. As my eyes focused I noticed there were bright shiny pennies taped over the eyes of the photos of the stars that were dead. ... Kerry had found inspiration in the middle of the night. I howled with laughter!

Halloween 1978 found BC and I in San Francisco. Kerry had moved there a few years before. He invited us to a party Halloween night where all the guests drank, put on their makeup, and got into drag before heading to the bars on Castro. It was hysterical ... and once I was drunk I started saying things like “pass me that lipstick ... think those heels will fit me?” For the very first and last time I got in drag. It was bad drag too. Picture a 6’6” man with shoulders like a linebacker in a fringed teddy, fishnet stockings over tights, wig, and in heels. *shudder* When everyone was ready we headed out to the bars. Kerry had found the perfect dress for him. It was a 30’s style gown with a short bolero jacket and he wore a cloche on his curly wig. He made a very good Ginger Rogers. As we walked awkwardly and drunkenly in heels downhill on Delores St. to 18th a car slowed down. It was packed with teenage boys that suddenly started shouting insults and throwing eggs. As most of us scattered Kerry started twirling and time stepping downhill. His arms akimbo upturned at the elbow, all the while laughing and hurling insults back at the kids and dodging their eggs. Soon the kids had stopped and were laughing right along with Kerry. Straight/Gay détente had been achieved in the Castro. It was a great Halloween.

After the service we went to the apartment where he lived with his last lover, George, and I shared those stories with his other friends. Each one had his own story about Kerry. As we got up to leave George went to the bedroom and came back with a clothes bag. Inside was the very dress Kerry had worn in 1978 and gave it to me. “It’s yours now” he said. On the flight home I told Dark I wished Kerry had been able to come to our Halloween party. “He’ll be there in spirit” was his reply.

Last night I went to bed early exhausted from the party preparations. I left Dark watching a DVD. This morning when I got up he was still sleeping. I started down the front stairs on my way to the kitchen when I stopped. There on the lower floor in the curve of the stairs was something new. There was a small platform with a mannequin on it. The mannequin was wearing Kerry’s dress. Someone had staged it in a dance pose, arms bent up at the elbow. The hem of the dress was wired as if twirling. On the face of the mannequin was a blow-up photo of a smiling Kerry fashioned into a mask. Curving up from the platform were thin wires with Styrofoam eggs attached to the tips as if in flight. ... I doubled over laughing. That brought Dark out of the bedroom. “Told you he’d be here in spirit” he said. That’s what comes with having a great bf that used to be a props master.

It’s going to be a wonderful Halloween and tonight after Dark is asleep I’m going downstairs and tape pennies over the eyes on Kerry’s mask.

Entertain me

2006-10-10T01:39:00.000+01:00

I am usually a bear when I'm sick. I just want to left alone to heal or sleep or whatever. I haven't been allowed to do that this past week. I've been hovered over, coddled, catered to, babied, pampered, fed, forced to laugh, and been royally entertained. All in all it hasn't sucked a bit.

Friday I went to the doctor and was told everything looked great. Nearly all the symptoms I was experiencing have vanished. My pain is getting better. But I swear he must have put a bowling ball under my shoulder blades during the surgery. Every bit of the pain is below my neck.

This house has been a beehive of activity and has resembled a hotel, recovery ward and animal shelter. Margo is staying with us while she's filming in town. Dark's mother came and is staying with us for a week. Of course gay Scott and Carmen, our housekeeper, are here. And as if the house isn't full enough yesterday Dark came home with another rescued kitten saying "Can I keep him? Can I? Can I? Please Mom, can I? I promise to feed him and do all my homework!" You try saying no to these two faces.

The dining room table has been the scene of some wonderful meals and great conversation. Dark's mother told a story of finding him as a child playing doctor in the attic the neighbor boy. ... ahem ... Carmen told us about crossing the border in drag before finally getting her papers. Margo told the stories about our last two stage performances together. She and I were in Oklahoma at Theater Under The Stars in Houston in 1972. It was arguably the worst production of that war horse ever seen. The leading man playing Curly was bald as a cue ball with a little fringe and wore a blonde curly wig that flew off twice when he threw his hat in the air at the end of the big "Oklahoma" number. The horse he rode on stage was no trooper either and crapped on stage nightly. That prompted me to tell about seeing the musical version of Gone With The Wind in London later that same year. It had a horse too. Maybe it was the same horse because it crapped on stage during the burning of Atlanta number. Then Margo told about being Off Broadway in Always...Patsy Cline in 1997. The show had a number where she put a cowboy hat on a broom and danced with it while listening to Patsy sing. The night I came to see the show instead of dancing with the broom she came flying offstage, slapped the cowboy hat on my head pulling me out of my seat and up on stage to two step with her. She neglected to inform the band leader and Tori Palazola what she was going to do. Tori's jaw dropped and the band on stage stopped playing til Margo waved them on. She and I danced while whispering "It's gonna be Oklahoma all over again. Look at Tori, she's about to crap. ... Where do you want to eat after the show? ... Have you gained weight?" Dark told hilarious stories about Babylon Five mishaps.

I am enjoying my recovery immensely so if you happen to be in LA and can tell a good story come entertain me. I have one more empty bedroom and an extra chair at the table. But no more cats. OK?

grateful recovering blogger update

2006-10-02T19:31:00.000+01:00

The surgery came off without a hitch. My surgeon removed two discs and replaced them with grafted bone and fused the vertebrae with titanium plates and screws. I woke up sometime Friday afternoon feeling no pain – thank you, morphine. When the pain started the nurses promptly gave me more morphine and I would drift off to sleep. Thank you, nurses. When I woke up Friday night my nurse told me Dark was out of surgery and in the next room. She helped me walk to see him. Thank you, Nurse Laura. I wish I had a picture of his face when he looked up and saw me. It registered complete shock. Thank you, Dark. It was priceless.

It seems the drain the surgeon had put in my incision was doing its job. The blood had drained and soaked the bandage and was soaking the front of my gown. I must have looked like I had been attacked by an axe murderer. His operation went well and his leg was propped up. What a pair we made. The nurse helped me back and cleaned me up. Saturday, the drain was removed, a new bandage applied, and I was sent home with a prescription for Percacet. Thank you Cedars-Sinai Hospital.

Gay Scott drove us home and helped each of us up the stairs. So how do I feel? Not bad at all considering. My pain is manageable. Thank you, Percacet. The pain is actually between my shoulder blades. The surgeon told me that might happen because he had placed a bean bag support under my shoulder blades and taped my shoulders to the operating table to get the proper angle he wanted. I had been in that position for three hours while he operated on me. I have an inch and a half incision. No stitches, it is dermabonded closed. During the operation my trachea and oesophagus were moved to the side to allow the surgeon access to my discs so I have a bit of a sore throat still. I had a few bad hours Saturday night caused I think by the anaesthesia or morphine. Poor gay Scott had to hold my head while I worshipped the porcelain god. That’s a true friend. Thank you, Scott. But the nausea passed.

Sunday, the flowers and visitors started arriving. We are both a little overwhelmed. Friends have been more than kind. Thank you one and all. And special thanks to you, Susan. We are both recuperating nicely. The good news for me is that the operation has eliminated the difficulty I have had holding my head up. Thank you, Dr. Patel. The good news for Dark is the scars on his leg will be gone when he heals. Thank you, Dr. Bradley. We’re both very happy campers. Have I forgetten to thank anyone? Oh yeah, thank you, Cher.

slice and dice Friday

2006-09-28T11:24:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow is surgery day. My surgery is scheduled for 7 am and I have to be there at 5 am – couldn’t my surgeon have scheduled a round of golf first so I could sleep late? But it gives the bf time to be there when I get out of surgery before having his surgery at 2 pm in the same hospital. Both of us will stay overnight and be sent home the next day. Yesterday gay Scott flew in from London to be our nurse.

No Nurse Ratched for me. This 6'2" blonde Australian and our Mexican housekeeper are staying at the house over the weekend to look after us. It will be like a Beverly Hills United Nations sleepover. After breakfast today we’re off. Where you ask? Why, we're taking our nurse to Disneyland, of course.

still on a learning curve

2006-09-26T13:31:00.000+01:00

I find I am having a hard time getting accustomed to LA again. I had the usual jetlag that lasted 2 days. But after it disappeared I found myself still feeling like a stranger in my own skin. It must be all the sunshine. I like London’s often crappy weather. It suits me. It makes me really appreciate the days of great weather more. Here every day is postcard weather perfect – almost. It makes me crazy. But LA is where the bf is so I’ll just have to get used to it.

I’m still learning more about him every day. For instance he has little appreciation for English history. I found that out in Scotland on our anniversary. I thought I found the perfect gift. First year anniversary presents are supposed to be paper. So in July I bought a letter at a Sotheby’s auction. It was from Mary, Queen of Scots to Lord Bothwell, who would later become her third husband. I thought it was kind of romantic. When I gave it to him at dinner he was ... underwhelmed. Only after I explained that it was thought Bothwell killed Mary’s second husband so they could marry did he express any real interest. “Kinky” was his remark. After we were back in London I heard gay Scott ask him what I had given him His answer was “an autograph from some old queen named Mary”.

His gift to me was the director’s shooting script for Theatre of Blood filled with hand written notations in the margins. I loved it. So he trumped me with the gift. He gave me something he knew I would like. I gave him something I thought he would like. I won’t make that mistake again. Second year anniversary gift is cotton. I’ll have to start thinking about that. But third year gift is leather. I know exactly what to get him for that one.

... with this ring ...

2006-09-18T10:55:00.000+01:00

Damn, time flies. I can’t believe summer is over and we head back to Los Angeles tomorrow. I haven’t been able to post as we were in Ireland so Dark could scout filming locations. That’s accomplished and now we head back and face our surgeries. I’m actually looking forward to mine and getting rid of this neck brace.

It looks like we’ll be back in London before too long. Moving Picture Company and Framestore, the London FX team for Harry Potter have been hired for the Narnia sequel. Dark will need to get another work visa as soon as we get home. ... or he can apply for a 'visit for civil partnership' visa and then he can stay as long as he likes after we’re registered. I never felt any urge to be married but somehow registering a civil partnership appeals to me. Dark would get a ‘right of abode’ and could stay as long as he likes. Hmm … I wonder how he’d look in Vera Wang?

Road Trip

2006-08-25T04:38:00.000+01:00

I finally finished my driving lessons and now have my permit. Idiots, what were they thinking? The picnic hamper is bought. So tomorrow morning we pick up the rental car and off to Scotland to celebrate our anniversary we go.

It’s an 8 hour drive but we’re taking two days to stop along the way. We have to stop in Blackpool to ride their 13, yes; I said 13 roller coasters at Pleasure Beach. Then we will spend the weekend in Portpatrick, Scotland. If you happen to be on any of these UK motorways this weekend for God’s sake give me plenty of room.

... Must drive on the left. ... Must drive on the left.

Remembrance of things past

2006-08-18T20:07:00.000+01:00

I always liked the idea that BC was 5 years older than I. It was one of the things that attracted me to him when we first met. He hit his decades first and it always seemed to pave the way for me. I was excited about my thirties and forties because I had experienced them already when he turned those ages. As he got older the age difference occasionally bothered him. And I have to admit if provoked I whipped out the age difference and clobbered him with it. Many an argument ended with the phrase "Maybe so, but I will always be 5 years younger than you ... always."

This was supposed to be a seminal year. BC would have turned 60. He hated the idea and of course I loved it. I really started kidding him about his age once he turned 50. I would tell him I couldn't wait to turn 55. The inference was he would be 60.

As his birthday approached this August I thought about it a lot. We had talked about it many times. I wondered how we would have celebrated it if he had lived. I'm sure I would have done something really special for him. Then something happened that I thought would never happen.

August 8th came and went and I forget it completely.

I remember thinking about it on the 5th or 6th. Then the next thing I know it was the 13th. 5 days later I finally remembered. I have no idea what it means. I think it's odd but I haven't questioned it too much. When I told Dark about it he just hugged me tight and said it was ok. He felt BC wouldn't mind.

And that's when I decided that was my gift to BC - no acknowledgement what so ever. I think he would have liked that. As much as he hated the thought of turning 60 he probably got a kick that I forgot. So that's your gift, BC. And something tells me you'll get a bigger kick now that I will turn 60 before you.

Foiling terrorists

2006-08-11T21:26:00.000+01:00

Yesterday morning we watched the news about the airplane bomb plot and started talking about our plans to fly back to LA. We were eating breakfast with the newspapers spread around us. I was reading the Telegraph, Dark was reading Metro … (in LA it’s me with the NY and LA Times and Dark with Variety). Opposites attract you know.

Bf: This has nothing to do with terrorists. It’s a plot by the liquor industry to boost sales. I mean if we have to be at the airport 3 hours early you’ll just be drinking for 3 hours. Profits are gonna soar I tell ya.
Me: Fuck you.
Bf: Time for that later. Right now we need to decide what to do about the flight home.
Me: What’s to decide?
Bf: I might want to call Cunard instead..
Me: Huh?
Bf: You can’t expect me to endure that entire flight without hair product.

That’s when my mouthful of bacon and eggs spewed across the table because his hair looked something like this:

His unruly mop of hair is something I love about him. As a child of the sixties (alright, a child of the fifties. now hush.) I like longer hair on a guy. God bless the hippie movement for liberating men from the number 2 blade. And now the concentration look is back. I know. I know. – I wear my hair short but I have to. I have bad hair that has to be tortured to look decent. No way in the world I could have longer hair and just wash it, comb it, and let it dry naturally like the bf. I was a slave to the hair dryer and hair product most of my adult life. Good thing I don’t use them now or I wouldn’t get on the plane. Forget about putting them in a checked suitcase. I have suitcases still circling Borneo from former flights. If I’m crashing into the Atlantic I’m crashing with great hair.

Me: Forget the QMII. Just wear a ball cap. I'm not letting the terrorists win.
Bf: You’re brilliant.
silence
Bf: Ok, we can fuck now.

Sam - Jan. 1991 - July 2006

2006-07-30T22:22:00.000+01:00

Yesterday morning I was forced to put Sam to sleep. This past week has been a bitch. It started with Sam unable to climb the stairs at night to sleep in our bedroom. This saint I'm partnered with carried him up and down 2 flights of stairs to and from our bedroom everyday all without my asking. Next Sam stopped eating so we took him to the vet. Countless tests, x-rays, and ultrasounds later the diagnosis was cancer of the spleen. I was given the option of surgery with no guarantee of success or putting him down. At his advanced age (15) it seemed best to let him go. So yesterday morning I held him as they put him to sleep. It was all very peaceful. He just closed his eyes and stopped breathing. He is being cremated and I will decide where to scatter his ashes later.

Rest well my friend.

Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!**

2006-07-18T02:07:00.000+01:00

If you live in London or will be visiting in the next few weeks you would be well advised to be very alert to oncoming traffic. I have decided to bite the bullet and learn to drive here. Last week I enrolled in a driving school and lessons start tomorrow. I have never attempted in all my years here to drive in London but gay Scott's taunts have forced me to gut up and take the plunge.

If you are walking in London in the next few weeks please take extra care at roundabout and zebra crossings. These, often confusing to Americans, British stalwarts will be even more dangerous if I am behind the wheel. But I am determined to master London streets as I want to keep a car in London. Besides I’m taking Dark here for our anniversary and I want us to drive there.
>

As usual my timing is lousy as petrol is expected to reach £1/liter ($4.20/gallon) shortly. But fuck it. I can't take it with me.

Ok, you've been warned.

**Trivia:
As some of you know the "Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!" quote is from the old Lost in Space TV series. The robot was always saying that to Billy Mumy. When Billy was guesting on Babylon Five Dark would bring his Robby the Robot miniature to the set and place it on the craft services table or on the close up camera to crack him up and make him blow his lines.
>

Durdle Door-ed

2006-07-10T16:43:00.000+01:00

Saturday gay Scott and I decided to drive down to Dorset to the beach to catch some rays and swim. The 4 hour drive reminded me of drives to the beach as a kid. The closer you got the more excited you became. We went to Durdle Door first and I was properly gob smacked. I had no idea the Dorset coast was so dramatic with cliffs dropping off into the sea. By the time we got to the beach we were pumped and raced into the water. I should have noticed that despite the crowd on the beach the water was mostly empty of swimmers.

The water was freezing. Instant raisin balls, I tell ya. There were a few crazy Russians in the water but most sane people were on the beach. We swam a few strokes and then headed to shore to get some sun. I knew Dark had been working on his tan in NZ and I didn't want him coming home to a ghost. All in all a pleasant day ... except for the 4 hour drive back to London. The drive reminded me of the drives home from the beach as a kid too - hot from too much sun and sand in places it has no business being.

Dark got home yesterday and we went to Winfield House for the July 4th dinner and fireworks. Poor jet lagged guy kept nodding off so I took him home for some private fireworks. It's good to have him home.

I'm not losing this one

2006-07-06T08:36:00.000+01:00

I seem to be losing another old friend and I am not sure how to stop it. This friend isn't dying, he just seems to be drifting away. I've blogged before about Scott and Paula and how Paula died last July 25th. Since that day I have felt Scott distancing himself. I felt it starting at Paula's funeral, in subsequent emails and phone calls, and especially on this July 4th (Paula's birthday) when I didn't hear from him.

He told me at her funeral I was the one person that knew what he was feeling. It was true. I knew he had only begun to process his loss. I told him I wasn't going to crowd him for the next few months so he could feel his way through his grief but I was only a phone call away. I didn't get a call. When I began to make contact again he was somewhat distant. Not unfriendly but not talkative. I chalked it up to the newness of his loss. I was careful not to talk about Paula asking only about what he was doing and inquiring after his kids and grandkids.

Then in November when I called him he told me he had started dating again. In fact he told me he had a girlfriend. I admit to being somewhat shocked because he and Paula were such soul mates and best friends. But I careful not to express any shock or disappointment. I told him I was glad he had found someone to date and wished him all the best. I had the feeling he was testing my reaction. When my last email went unanswered six weeks ago it occured to me that maybe he wasn't using the same email address since it was a combination of his and Paula's initials. So I sent an email off to his son asking if he had a new one. I got a long email back saying yes, his dad had a new email address ... and a new wife.

Scott married his Russian teacher, an Azeri woman there in Baku. He brought her back to the US to meet his children and have a second ceremony performed there. It goes without saying I wasn't invited much less told. His son gave me Scott's new email address adding that the newlyweds had just left London for Paris on their honeymoon. I emailed them both my best wishes and told Scott I hoped to hear from him soon. I gat an email the next day. "Ray, I do not like being alone, I have never liked being alone, and I will not be alone." His kids are upset and still trying to cope with the loss of their mother. But I've called them both and asked them to lighten up on their Dad. Not all of us work through our grief the same way or as slowly as others. They know about my suicide try after Bob died. I told them they didn't want their Dad making my mistakes.

I'm just hoping Scott doesn't feel I am too closely linked to Paula. I don't want to loose him too. He and I still have so much in common in addition to a shared past. His new wife is 31. We both now have younger trophy spouses. And if she is half the woman Paula was then she'll make him very happy and that is all Paula and I would ever hope for him. I think I will give him a few months and then I'm inviting them both to London to stay with us and meet Dark. That's what Paula and Bob both would want I think. I know it's what I want. Life goes on.

All gayed out

2006-07-03T17:43:00.000+01:00

This weekend was busy. Against my better judgement I went with my friend Scott (gay Scott, not Paula's Scott) to watch a bit of the EuroPride parade Saturday. After about 15 minutes of being jostled and pushed by the crowd on Oxford street I had enough. Besides it was hot and I was sweating in my neck brace. I'm not fond of London when it's really hot. Growing up in Houston I learned that man should never live without air conditioning. I don't care if it's Antartica. Most of the flats and houses here have no a/c and the puplic buildings that do usually have shit a/c systems. But not chez moi. BC suffered from allergies and couldn't live without it. The first year we owned Cranley Place we had a/c installed. Five years ago I had a new system put in and this weekend my house was a favorite stop for friends trying to beat the heat.

Thankfully Scott has a car and he drove me around this weekend. I may have to adopt that boy. He's the sweetest guy. Right now I need to find him a partner. He's 32 and single after an 8 year relationship. He's also 6'2", blond, muscled, green eyed, and Australian. All applicants will be carefully screened because this guy deserves the best. Anyway, we hit several shops to pick up all the things I need for my July 4th BBQ tomorrow. Friday my new Beefeater S3000s gas grill was delivered and for a cash bribe the delivery guys lugged it down the steps into the garden and set it up for me. Scott and I have trimmed and seasoned the briskets and ribs I ordered so early in the morning the cooking begins. It's open house for any American with no place to go or anyone really. Bring your appetite. Tomorrow - the beer is strictly Budweiser and it will be iced. Dark will be stuck eating sushi in Tokyo. But we have tickets to the Independence Day dinner and fireworks next Sunday at Winfield House put on by London's American Society so he won't miss everything. Tomorrow I get to be truly schizophrenic. My American half gets to celebrate independence from the Brits and my British half gets to turn up my nose at our former colonists.

Last night Jane, Scott, and I went to "EuroPride 2006: The Show" at Royal Albert Hall. It lasted four hours so I am all gayed out. The parade, Ian McKellen in drag, Graham Norton, Mamma Mia, and Elton John all in one weekend is more than enough.

Tomorrow will be bittersweet. July the 4th was Paula's birthday. For the first time in 38 years I don't get to call her or be with her. That sucks.

I'm back

2006-06-30T13:55:00.000+01:00

Wow has it really been two months since my last post? Seems more like 6. So much has been going on and it leaves little time to blog. I know, I know. That's no excuse. Ok, the dog ate my blog then. No, there have been a few medical dramas for both of us.

Turns out both of us are going to surgery this fall when we get back to LA. We've been in London for almost a month now. At least I have. Dark left Monday for Tokyo and then Aukland on business. I decided to stay in London. Travel isn't easy right now. Hell, walking and holding my head up is hard right now. I started having wierd symptoms while we were in New Zealand a few months ago necessitating a couple of trips to the emergency rooms there. I started having trouble with my balance when walking. I would suddenly go spastic and my legs would just give out. Not attractive at all. Imagine a stumbling drunk and that's what I looked like only I was sober - damnit! Then I started having trouble holding my head up and centered. After we got back to LA I was diagnosed with cervical stenosis with myelopothy. The arthritis I have in my neck has caused bone spurs that are compressing my spinal canal in two places pinching my spinal cord.

As if he couldn't stand me hogging all the attention at the hospital Dark was in an auto accident the day after we got back to LA and was rushed to the ER with burns on his legs from a ruptured oil pan or line in his Jeep. He was pinned in the wreck while hot oil leaked on his bare legs. He got a whiplash as well so we now have matching neck braces. Some of his burns were third degree so he's going to have plastic surgery when we get back to LA.

We decided to take off and come to London for the summer and try to have a little fun before we go under the knife this Fall. So we're back home at Cranley Place. Since Dark will be gone for another week I have resolved to get back to blogging. I have some things I want to write about. We also have our 1 year anniversary coming up soon and I need some suggestions for a gift for Dark. The traditional gift is paper. So run with that kids and give me some great ideas. If you're in the South Kensington area let me know and I'll drag out the G & T or whatever your poison is and then I can have an decent excuse to stumble.

Talk quietly children

2006-04-21T00:03:00.000+01:00

Daddy has ~~a hangover~~ a headache.

I turned 55 yesterday. The bf threw me a great party where it seemed every mother I know from Ferris Bueller’s to Million Dollar Baby’s showed up. At some point the party moved to the beach where I am told I ... never mind. I don't know you people well enough. But it appears the bf thought I was quite entertaining.

Excuse me while I have ~~a Bloody Mary~~ some San Pellegrino water and swallow a fist full of Tylenol.

Providing I haven't destroyed too many brain cells and/or senile dementia hasn't set in I will fill you in on our trip last month to New Zealand for Narnia II scouting including an in depth report on the condition of Wellington, New Zealand emergency rooms. All in due time. Toddle along now quietly. It's time for my nap.

Not much to report

2006-02-28T12:25:00.000Z

There really hasn't been a lot to blog about lately. Talking about your health is a bore. The worst thing about having a broken neck is not being able to do a full workout. I miss the exercise. It turns out I do have early stage oesteoporosis. Now I'm on meds for that and the arthritis so both conditions are managable.

We were standing naked at the bathroom mirrors this morning when Dark turned and said I looked like an uncut penis in my flesh colored neck brace. ... Not the first time I've been called a prick.

Brokeneck Mountain

2006-02-15T18:53:00.000Z

The bf and I went rock climbing last weekend. big mistake I have been rock climbing before and really enjoyed it. This was the first time for the bf. While demonstrating what not to do I managed to fall about 10 feet and hurt my neck. By Monday it was hurting bad enough to send me to the doctor for x-rays.

The doctor called back the same day with the x-ray results. It seems I have a minor compression fracture or in other words a broken neck. Luckily I didn’t do more damage by not immobilizing the neck and seeking medical attention immediately. I was referred to an orthopaedist who did an MRI and then put me in a cervical brace. I’ll be in a neck brace for the next six weeks.

Six weeks? Six weeks in a neck brace? The worst thing about it is the thing matches nothing in my wardrobe. I need to slipcover the thing or something. I should check around; maybe Armani or Dolce & Gabbana make one with a little more style. Or maybe I should opt for a leather one with studs.

The really bad news is that the x-rays also showed I have arthritis in the neck and possible thinning of the cervical vertebrae. I go for a bone mass density test on the 24th to determine if I have early osteoporosis. Crap! I am becoming my parents. These conditions bother me more than a broken neck. A cervical fracture heals but arthritis and osteoporosis are chronic.
Pity party? Table for one? Jeez I feel old today. I’m going back to bed.

Mystery Movie Night

2006-01-30T16:43:00.000Z

The last Sunday of every month is Mystery Movie Night for the boyfriend and his merry band of whacko pals. Each one hosts in rotation supplying the movies, food, and drinks. No one but the host knows what the movies will be. They are usually a double feature of horror films or some obscure art or sci-fi film.

Last night was our turn to play hosts. The choice of movies was left to me. I decided to screen 2 of the boyfriend’s movies. I could have chosen from any the ones he worked on as matte painter, 3D digital effects artist, miniature artist, etc. and shown something like The Chronicles of Riddick, Ed Wood, Titanic, or Looney Tunes: Back In Action. Instead I chose 2 films showcasing the boy’s acting skills.

The movie selection was Body Rock (1984) and Horror Brunch (1987). Body Rock may be the all time worst film ever made. It is amazingly bad from plot (what plot?), dialogue, costuming, music, to choreography. Yes boys and girls I said choreography, Body Rock is about white NYC break dancers and rappers (yes, I said white NYC break dancers and rappers) namely Chilly D (Lorenzo Lamas), and his pals like E-Z and Snake ... are you getting the picture? Chilly D vaults from dancing in the streets, tagging graffiti, and rapping to the top of the NYC club scene forgetting his street pals and his humble beginnings until he loses it all and returns to his roots. The costumer must have been channelling Emilio Pucci on acid. Body Rock was so bad it received 2 Razzie nominations in 1984; one for Worst Actor: Lorenzo Lamas and Worst Song: "Smooth Talker". Song: "Smooth Talker".
The boyfriend has a small bit part where he walks into the diner where his pal Chilly D is holding court and is told his name is on the guest list at the hot new club where Chilly is working.
Boyfriend: Hey Chilly!
Lorenzo Lamas: What’s happening?
Boyfriend: Get me into the club Friday night?
Lorenzo Lamas (rapping): I take care of my friends... I get them in for free ... you be on the list, under - Chilly D!
Boyfriend: Yeah!
Right, makes you want to throw up in your mouth a little ...

Horror Brunch is a short. It is a spoof of all the classic horror movies. The last shot of the film is an Alien creature popping out of the boyfriend’s chest.

In a salute to Body Rock’s NYC locale I had a buffet of deli cold cuts, salads, bagels, rolls, and celery tonic. Then in the media room I set out martini glasses next to individual miniature vodka and Pepto Bismal bottles as well as individual brown paper barf bags. All of this in addition to the obligatory popcorn and boxes of Dots, Junior Mints, Milk Duds, and Malted Milk Balls.

The evening was a huge success despite the look on the boyfriend’s face when I announced the movie selection ...

OK honey, next time you get to choose ...

Mastercard moment

2006-01-26T19:08:00.000Z

Price of gasoline at the Mobil station on La Cienega and Beverly Blvd. yesterday - $2.72 gallon.

Cost to fill up car - $48.96.

Having Tracy Scoggins drive up, get out of her car, jump on your bf and hearing her call him Darky Dark while you pump the gasoline – priceless.

Random Messages from 30,000 feet

2006-01-26T09:12:00.000Z

Dark had to go to NY last Monday for a meeting before flying on to Tokyo. He flew on Japan Airlines the 2nd leg. JAL just started in-flight online internet service from NY to Tokyo and he called me just before leaving NY to asked me to log on MSN Messenger. After take-off he logged on MSN and we started a marathon 10 hour conversation that got more wierd and disjointed the longer we talked.

D: Hey babe, this is cool! Now I don’t have to read the airline gift catalog over and over.
R: Yea, but you still have to buy me a present. Just make sure it isn't a bank shaped like an airplane from the catalogue.
D: Crap. I wonder if I can get my money back.
*
*
D: Erm, I like to look at your pic while we chat but can you find one with your shirt on? Something more conservative?
R: What? You don’t like my chest? That’s NOT what you said the other night mister
D: No no no … I love your chest. But the Japanese grandma sitting next to me is frowning.
R: OK, ... I’ll find another pic. But first I want you to lean over and whisper in her ear.
D: Uh oh, … what do you want me to say?
R: Dunno, maybe … Hiroshima, Nagasake, Hari Kari, Remember Pearl Harbor … something like that …
D: I just laughed out loud, you asshat. Now I’m being stared at by 150 Japanese … and Grandma is clutching her chopsticks like a weapon.
*
*
R: I’m getting tired. Don’t you want to sleep or watch a movie?
D: No! Do you know how boring the in-flight movie selection is?
R: Speaking of movies, why did you say Brokeback Mountain could have been better?
D: It was good. It just could have been better.
R: ???
D: Look … if the explosions had been bigger and if it had a really good car chase then it could have been perfect.
R: Who are you?

Letter to BC

2006-01-24T09:12:00.000Z

BC,

It was 3 years ago today you left me. In many ways it feels like it was only yesterday. I still remember everything about that day. It is crystal clear in my mind. I don't remember many details of the weeks that followed but that day is acid etched in my memory.

My first year without you was the very worst. I grieved like a wounded animal. You left such a huge hole in my life. I didn't want to go on living in a world with no BC in it. The second year was all about learning to live alone. I hadn't done that in 32 years. I had to relearn everything. This past year has been about reconnecting with life. I've started moving forward again.

I sold our house you know. I had to let go of the things that kept me anchored in our past. I know you understand. You would want me to go on, we talked about it. And yes I met a man, BC. He's a wonderful man. This man loves me and makes me glad I'm alive. He's not a substitue for you. You can never be replaced. But I found I still have enough of the love you gave me to share with someone. You taught me how to love. I'm just passing on lessons I learned from you.

I'd like to think Paula and you are together today. I'd like to think you are both watching me and loving me. I still feel that love. So today is a good day for me. I have known great love. I'm still receiving it. I carry you in my heart always. And I am happy again. Thank you for loving me so many years.

Ray

Still a hillbilly

2006-01-20T16:53:00.000Z

You can take the boy out of the hills but ... well no, actually you can't. Not in my case it seems. I was living in the hills of Tennessee.

Then I moved into the hills of Hollywood with Dark.

Last week we moved into the new house so now I'm living in the hills of Beverly. I can't quite wrap my brain around that zip code change.

I love the new house. It's kind of a Hamptons hybrid. I've been unpacking and trying to get everthing straightened up before Dark gets home tomorrow. He flew to Tokyo this week to consult on an anime project.

I like that the house is very private and completely walled.

We are planning to turn the poolhouse into an office for the two of us.

The kitchen is a good sized and there is a media room for Dark's film library.

The library actually has enough shelves for all my books.

And this is the master bedroom where the magic happens ...

Our new next door neighbor is Angie Dickinson. I can’t wait to go borrow a cup of sugar from Sgt. "Pepper" Anderson.

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday

2005-12-26T03:36:00.000Z

Christmas Day, this blog celebrated it's first birthday. Last Christmas was my second without BC. Being lonely I sat down to write in hopes that somehow my grief would lessen. And sure enough this blog has helped me heal.

In this past year I have read some incredible blogs and made some blogger friends. Pua and I helped birth a bouncing baby blogger. I moved out of my flat and back into my house in London. I travelled to Azerbaijan and Thailand for my birthday. My best friend died and I lost another friend in the tube bombings in London. I met a young man and had my first summer romance. I met the man that has changed my life. I sold my home in TN and moved to CA to be with him. And now I just learned the owners of the house I wanted to buy there have accepted my offer.

All in all a busy and exciting year. Was blogging responsible for any of it? Maybe not. But it did give me an outlet to express the joys and the sorrows. And for that I am grateful.

I know I haven't been a consistant blogger lately and I don't know if that is likely to change soon. I am just busier living my life than busy writing about it. If I'm not back before 2006 I wish you all Happy Holidays. I love you guys.

Narnia spoiler

2005-12-06T20:13:00.000Z

Tomorrow is the world premiere of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe based on the on the classic novel by CS Lewis. The premiere will be held at the Royal Albert Hall in London and will be attended by Charles and Camilla. The general release date is friday.

Dark did a lot of work on this film. Here are some of his working cells to give you an idea how the film will look. Pay close attention boys and girls to all the snow scenes, the mountain of the Ice Queen's Palace, the beaver hut scene etc. because that's all the bf's work. You are all allowed to stand and cheer wildly. Thank you.

This month is speeding like a freight train. The bf is madly working on a National Geographic special. I think he's busy destroying Paris and New York in this one. I love a good catastrophe film.

I found a house I like and have made and offer. More on that as it develops. We leave for London on the 18th for the Christmas holidays. Dark's birthday is the 28th and I'm taking him to Venice. Then we will be in Paris for New Years Eve.

Hopefully after that we go back to LA and move into the new house and Ray gets to catch his breath.

Confession

2005-11-30T20:16:00.000Z

Last week the bf and I had a misunderstanding. It didn’t last very long and was totally my fault. He was driving home; calling from his cell asking about a text message assuming was from me. But I knew I had not sent one and all of a sudden bells, sirens and whistles went off, loud enough to wake the green eyed fire breathing beast I thought died years ago.

In a few brief minutes or so I had the worst attack of jealousy I can remember. It was not something I care to repeat. I made an instant false assumption and grew a molehill into Mount Everest. In seconds I ordered a DEFCON 3 alert, armed the warheads with nukes, let fly the missiles in a surgical strike, and annihilated all of LA killing millions of innocent men, women, and children. And I wanted my poor innocent bf skinned, filleted, and burned at the stake.

Jealousy is an emotion I have not experienced often. Thank God. I think the last time I had an attack I was 19 or 20. When I met BC he was a bartender in hottest gay bar in town. Everyone loves the bartender and BC was hot so he had tons of admirers. In the first days of our relationship I staked out my territory and sat right in front of where he worked. Any too friendly soul was sent packing – fast; much to the amusement of BC. It didn’t take too long before I was secure enough to realize that it didn’t matter how many guys flirted or wanted him BC loved only me. No relationship that lasts as long as ours is without rough patches but jealousy or doubt about my place in BC’s heart was never a factor.

I am still settling into this new relationship. So far it has been easy and worries free. But I guess a few insecurities are still alive. The bf returned the call, found out it was from his ex, and it was easily decoded. When he got home all ruffled feathers had been smoothed and harmony in the land had been restored. He enjoyed the whole episode immensely. But I can’t say I did. It was stupid, silly, and embarrassing. But we agreed to call it our first tiff just so we could have make up sex.

And a few words of advice ... if you want to text my bf and live make sure it isn’t anonymous. Thank you.

Boys and their toys

2005-11-21T18:39:00.000Z

I started the search for a house this week. The bf and I have been discussing the matter for a while. There’s nothing wrong with his house at all. It would be a great house if it were a little bigger. There are a couple of musts for the new place. This is California, it must have a pool. It also has to have room for my 1,000+ books and room for Dark’s film library and memorabilia collection. Both of us are big fans of the horror film genre. He says I only wanted him because he owned A Nightmare on Elm Street Freddy Krueger doll. And I say he only wanted me so he could get his hands on my Trilogy of Terror Zuni fetish doll. But he’s wrong. Actually I wanted him because he starred in the 1987 short film, Horror Brunch. There’s nothing like having a bf that can be seen on film with an Alien-like creature popping out of his chest.

Sneak preview

2005-11-14T14:34:00.000Z

It’s November sweeps time for network TV. During sweeps time networks trot out special guests, major events on network shows, and prime time movies and miniseries. Normally I could care less. But now I’m a Hollywood spouse and I have to pay attention to these things. So I bring to your attention NBC’s 3 hour made for TV remake of the camp classic The Poseidon Adventure.

This Sunday, the 20th, is the air date. This version of The Poseidon Poseidon Adventure will be a pale imitation of the original. I mean the lead character is played by Steve Guttenberg for crying out loud. In the remake the ship isn’t overturned by a tidal wave. Terrorists detonate a bomb onboard causing the ship to roll over.

I don’t suggest anyone stay home to watch this stinker. But I do have to pimp the bf’s work. Dark did the matte paintings for the overturned ship’s hull. He never knows how they will be composited until he sees the film. To save you the agony of watching the whole movie I present you with a sneak preview. This is the plate he is given for reference. And then he paints this and this. There. You have now seen the best part of the film. I suggest skipping the movie and catching the opening weekend of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Like you weren’t going to do that anyway.

Ok, I’ve done my duty. I’ve promoted the bf’s career. Hey, this is November sweeps; to boost my hits I should be posting naked pics of the bf instead of his work! *just kidding honey* That reminds me; sometime Saturday my site meter reached 10,000 hits. That is a drop in the bucket compared to the popular kids but it amazes me. Next month will be this blog's first birthday. I should celebrate it and post naked pics of the bf. *just kidding honey*

Best invitation yet

2005-11-10T18:42:00.000Z

We have been organizing our social life this week; accepting invitations and marking the calender. We are invited to the premiere of Minotaur, one of the bf's films on the 22nd. We have been invited to Thanksgiving dinner in Beverly Hills by the parents of one of his friends. The invitation to the premier of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe on Dec. 6th just arrived. But the best invitation by far just arrived by email from one of Dark's crazier friends inviting us to a Craft Night. Craft night for 28 gay boys with ironing boards, glitter, and glue guns. The date has been circled; can't wait for this one.

Hey, who wants to craft Christmas, Valentine or Birthday cards
AND iron neato stuff on our shirts?
ME TOO!
Come over to my house
at about 7:00
on Friday, November 18
and we can do it!
I'll have the stuff for makin' cards,
so all you have to bring is stuff if you want to personalize 'em,
like photos, trinkets or your mom's cool heirloom jewels!
I'll have an ironing board & iron
you'll have to bring your own
cool shirts & transfers.
I'm gonna have snacks & hot chocolate
...& hooch if my mom forgets to lock the liquor cabinet again

be prepared

2005-11-04T15:40:00.000Z

The bf just got some emergency work so we have to delay our mini vacation for a couple of days. Having a partner with a career is making me think more and more about going back to work myself. I’m seriously thinking about starting a business with the bf. He mentioned something he would like to branch into someday and I think it is a great idea. He could be the artistic force and I could supply the operations and marketing know how. More about that idea to follow. Stay tuned.

Until I do go back to work I’ll just have to be a good Hollywood spouse. It doesn’t appear that I will be standing on stage accepting an Oscar anytime soon. But I will happily settle for a televised thank you from the bf when he gets up onstage to receive the Best Visual Effects award. In fact I think I’ll start writing his acceptance speech now. I have NO intention of being another Chad Lowe. Hillary Swank forgets to thank him, her husband, publicy when she won the Best Actress Oscar for BOYS DON'T CRY? That’s so not happening to this boy.

Halloween redux

2005-11-01T14:17:00.000Z

Here are some pics from the Halloween party.

Halloween 2005 Party Pics.

It was a success so I’m going back to bed now.

Hello, Betty Ford Center?

2005-10-31T17:06:00.000Z

I need a vacation. In fact the bf and I both need one. So after our Halloween party tonight we're off to Maui for a few days R & R. While I was busy with movers, packers, lawyers, and real estate agents in TN the bf was working around the clock on the final reworks for the film in LA. I decided to ship my car to LA instead of driving out since he wasn't able to make the road trip with me and flew back Friday.

Both of us totally exhausted, we headed to Yamashiro, our local hang out, for sushi and sake. Waiting for our table we sat in the garden room and ordered martinis. Big mistake. We were both so tired we got gassed on two each and the next thing I knew we were playing Godzilla & Godzukki because the room looks just like Tokyo and speaking ”engrish” to the not so amused waiters.

Saturday we got up, hiked the canyon and then went to Hollywood Forever Cemetery for the Dia de los Muertos celebrations. The altars and decorations were spectacular. The food offerings made us hungry for Mexican food so we headed to Marix. It was as crowded as Yamasiro’s had been and we had to wait in the bar and order margaritas. Big mistake. One pitcher of the killer Super margaritas and we forgot all about eating. We headed home and started carving pumpkins for our party. Sunday morning I was still picking pumpkin seeds and innards out of the bed.

We had another Halloween party to go to Sunday. We decided to just do face makeup instead of a whole costume. We had a few glasses of wine while we were getting made up. Big mistake. And the next thing we knew we were an hour and a half late arriving at the party. And I don’t think we will ever be able to wash the makeup out of those sheets.

Today D is running errands while I am waiting for the caterer, bartenders, valet parker, and decorating the house. I’ll post pics of the party later. After a night of green apple martinis with gummi bear worms garnish I’ll be ready for that Hawaii vacation … and a few of those drinks with the cute umbrellas in them.

When we get back we can go into detox.

letting go

2005-10-21T22:53:00.000+01:00

It is a quiet day here in the country. All hell breaks out tomorrow when the movers and packers arrive. But I have done these kinds of moves so many times I’m not stressing at all. In fact, I seem oddly detached today. It’s like I’m seeing familiar things and surroundings through someone else’s eyes. I’m not connected. I think it’s because I have detached and let go of this place in my head.

I remember finding this spot all those years ago. The rolling hills of the Cumberland Plateau are beautiful. The views were spectacular. We thought this would be the perfect spot to build our last house. We would finally have our dream house and well deserved time alone together. We spent so many years working hard and moving as jobs dictated. At last we would be able to enjoy ourselves.

We built our perfect house and began to transform ourselves from uber driven type A professionals into retired rural gay couple hood. ... And then BC died. I retreated here to lick my wounds and try to heal. I tried to sell the place last year but I wasn’t ready to let go. This time it was easy.

I will miss it here but it is time for someone else to enjoy it. I hope they have a longer and happier time here than we did. I am leaving them a bit of us but they won’t know it. Many years ago, BC started a tradition of bringing home a rock from the places we visited or lived. We were going to build a rock memory garden but never got around to it. So this week I took all the rocks and set then into the path of the garden that GB built this summer. They need to stay.

My last day here I will walk the grounds and say my good byes. I won’t be sad. Then I’ll catch my plane to LA and Dark.

making way for the new

2005-10-18T17:38:00.000+01:00

We flew to TN Friday to begin packing up the house. Dark decided to come and help despite his film schedule. I love this man. I took him on a tour of the house from attic to basement wine cellar. He may have had second thoughts about a relationship with me after the tour. Even I was staggered by the amount of ~~crap~~ beloved possessions I have accumulated over the years.

For instance, in the attic there are boxes and boxes of various styles/themes/ages of Christmas ornaments. You want a tree with hand made traditional ornaments? I have them. How about ornate beaded or sequined ones? I have enough to satisfy any ~~drag queen~~ person that likes fancy ones. Then there are the Russian, Ukrainian, Javanese, German, Indian, or vintage Scandinavian ones. I’m not talking about a few of each. I’m talking about enough of each kind to decorate a large tree. I have stock piled ~~useless stuff~~ collectibles like this for ages and lugged it all over the world. One of the reasons BC and I built this house was to house all the ~~junk~~ treasures we collected through the years. Hanging on a wall in the attic is a stuffed moose head. Why did I think I had to have that? And worse, why do I still have it? Looking around the attic I decided then and there to get rid of nearly everything. Besides Dark’s favorite holiday is Halloween. He told me on the flight that he wants a Halloween theme Christmas tree this year. You might know that is the one type of decoration you won’t find in this attic.

crisis averted

2005-10-12T17:11:00.000+01:00

Me: Hey, where did you put those sembei rice crackers?
D: I think I ate the last of them last night.
Me: (staring)
D: I’ll pick up some more tomorrow.
Me: But ... I want some now. If you loved me you would go now.
D: Well, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I’m not driving all the way to Little Tokyo tonight.
Me: That’s very thoughtless and selfish of you, eating the last of them. Why am I just finding out about this serious character flaw now? I drove all the way to Little Tokyo especially to buy those crackers.
D: Liar. You did not. My office building is in Little Tokyo. You were driving there anyway for a nooner.
Me: Totally not true. I only drove there to buy those crackers. Since I was in the neighbourhood I just decided to drop in and give you a mercy hump. You’ve been working so hard on the film. I felt sorry for you.
D: Oh, ok. Well, thanks. You can do that again anytime. hmm ... I should be really working hard about 1:00 tomorrow ...
Me: Too bad. I’ll be busy buying rice crackers at that time.
D: So, 1:30 then?
Me: 1:30 then. Lucky for you I am such a humanitarian.
D: Buy the seaweed/plum and teriyaki kinds tomorrow, Mother Theresa.

Please don't wake me

2005-10-05T12:46:00.000+01:00

If I am dreaming I hope it never ends. But things are getting eerie. Signs of the impending apocalypse are everywhere.

I called my realtor last week and put my house in TN on the market again. She called, waking me this morning, with an offer for full list price. Looks like I will be headed back to TN to pack things up and ship them out here. I was going to get my cousin to ship my car here but now I can drive it out myself. It’s all too smooth and easy. Where are the months of open houses and offers for less than I want?

Last Saturday after the beach, Dark noticed two small kittens in a storm drain looking like they had been abandoned. The big hearted lug scooped them up and we brought them home. I predicted disaster because the one thing that drives Sam crazy is a cat. When we got them home; Sam sniffed at them, and then licked them. What the hell? I thought for sure they would be kitty pate by now. Yet I found them snuggled up next to Sam this morning.

After the year I’ve had all this harmony and happiness is welcome but it is getting a little scary. With all this good news can the big quake, the one that dumps CA into the Pacific, be far behind? I’m going to quit worrying about it and just enjoy things. I think as soon as I get my car here I’m trading it for a convertible. If that doesn't trigger a monsoon then maybe my luck has finally changed.

"10"

2005-10-03T17:46:00.000+01:00

Saturday at the beach as I watched him walk from the water to our blanket I had the strangest thought - if I was straight Bolero should be playing. Damn, I’m glad I’m gay.

He would be perfect if only

2005-09-29T21:09:00.000+01:00

What do you do about a guy that seems to be perfect in all regards except one? I could spends days listing all of Dark’s good qualities. That would be boring for you even if I might enjoy it. Instead I will tell you his one big flaw. He likes to sleep on a soft mattress. There, I said it. Horrifying isn’t it? I had hopes of converting him to the orthopedic joy of sleeping on a firm mattress. But it isn’t going to happen. He said he hated my mattress in London.

This flaw of his has me thinking the unthinkable – separate beds. As much as I love spooning, cuddling, and touching him in bed I just can’t get comfortable in his soft bed. I guess the only thing to do is get 2 extra long twin beds (1 soft and 1 extra firm) and shove them together. It’s either that or get one of those dual adjustable Sleep Number Beds that Lindsey Wagner hawks on that annoying late night commercial. What number are you? ... *shudder* ... No, I’d rather buy a feather bed and live with backache.

I'll take movie trivia for fifty, Alex

2005-09-28T17:25:00.000+01:00

Dark and I were on the deck at twilight last night drinking wine and enjoying the view. Lights from the hills to the city and on the ocean were beginning to twinkle. We both turned when we noticed movement in the bushes at the edge of the yard.

Dark: Look, babe. Over there. Do you see him?
Me: (screaming) "A Dingo Took My Baby!"
Dark: (laughing) It’s a coyote, not a dingo. Don’t you have those on that farm of yours?
Me: ... (sips wine muttering)... “I had a farm in Africa.”
Dark: ... Africa? ... I thought it was in Tennessee. How much wine have you had?
Me: ... “What if I did drink too much wine? Whose business is that anyway? Who knows how much I didn't drink, huh?”
Dark: ... Now I get it. ... Meryl Streep movie quotes. You’re a crazy man.
Me: If I'm crazy it's because ... “I am the French lieutenant's whore”
Dark: OK Meryl, no more wine for you.
Me: ... “So, do you want more eggs or should we just fuck on the linoleum one last time?”
Dark: Umm ... sweetie, tomorrow night could you try channeling Brad Pitt?

A perfect day

2005-09-27T04:32:00.000+01:00

Feeling like I won the Super Bowl yesterday morning. ”what're you gonna do now?” I did the only thing possible. I went to Disneyland. Actually it was a surprise from Dark. He told me to dress casually that he was taking me on an outing with 2 of his friends. The minute I saw the Anaheim sign on the highway I knew where we were headed. Weeks ago in London I told him I felt cheated as a child because my parents never took me to Disneyland. As a kid I watched the original Mickey Mouse Club on television religiously. I had a crush on Annette Funicello. I begged my parents to no avail to take me to Disneyland and he promised to take me. That conversation led to the discovery that both of us are amusement park junkies. Both of us love them and have worked in them at some point. He made Halloween props for Knott’s Berry Farm and I worked at Astroworld several summers.

You have never seen four bigger kids at Disneyland yesterday than his friends and us. I had the time of my life. We raced from ride to ride. We outed Prince Charming and Tarzan. And finally I own a pair of mouse ears! It took me fifty years but I now have my own pair. The minute I saw them I bought us some. I refused to take mine off all day yesterday. I wore them at the park, I wore them in the car. I wore them to the restaurant at dinner last night. I wore them to bed last night. Lying entwined (me in my ears) we talked for hours about our childhoods and our pasts. Just as I was about to fall asleep he cracked me up by suddenly sitting up and singing:

Who's the leader of the club
That's made for you and me?
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!

Hey, there! Hi, there! Ho, there!
You're as welcome as can be!
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse! Donald Duck!
Mickey Mouse! Donald Duck!
Forever let us hold our banners high
High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song
And join the jamboree
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E
Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse
Forever let us hold our banner high
Now's its time to say goodbye
To all our company
M-I-C - See you real soon!
K-E-Y - Why? Because we like you!
M--O--U--S--E

You have to love a man that fulfills your childhood wish AND knows those lyrics. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

Day one in Lotus Land

2005-09-25T10:27:00.000+01:00

It’s early morning here in Los Angeles and I can’t sleep. My internal clock is still set on London time so it feels like it should be afternoon. I’ve been padding around trying to get my bearings in an unfamiliar house in a new city. Yesterday morning I was eating breakfast in the comfortable surroundings of my own home in London and this morning I am trying to find the coffee pot in a strange kitchen in Lala Land. Sam is sound asleep on the kitchen floor oblivious to my efforts to find the coffee. My laptop is on the kitchen counter and I’m typing, pacing, and trying to shake off the jetlag.

The 11 hour flight from London to LA was largely uneventful except for that major panic attack I had somewhere over the Atlantic. I decided not to drink on the flight so I would be in good form when Dark picked me up. That resolve evaporated about two hours into the flight when I began to rethink what I was doing. This relationship has been moving at warp speed from the moment we met. Roughly one month after we met I uprooted my life and was moving over 5300 miles to be with this man. My heart told me I was doing the right thing but my head was screaming “Slow down, Sparky! Think about what you are doing. It was just six weeks ago traveling around Europe with GB. You just moved back into your house in London and now you and your dog are on a plane headed to LA to be with someone else”. That was when I told the flight attendant I wanted wine, a lot of wine.

I can honestly say that I drank from the east coast to the west coast. Sweet baby Jesus what I was I getting myself into? I have a love/hate relationship with California. There is just something about all that beautiful weather and all those beautiful people that grates on me. Here I was planning on living there again with a man I have only known for 4 weeks. Somewhere over the Midwest my heart overruled my head. The first time I experienced love at first sight it lasted 32 years. Maybe I have another 32 years to give to this man. No matter how much I drank I was definitely sober when the plane landed. My nerves had calmed by the time we had taxied to the arrival gate at LAX.

My eyes locked on him the minute I exited the jet way. Dear Cher, what had I been worrying about? The minute I saw his smile I knew I was home. Picking up my luggage and then Sam, driving into LA, arriving at the house all passed in a blur. An hour after we arrived he was grilling tuna fillet quesadillas and making margaritas for me followed by some of the best porn star quality sex I have ever experienced. I fell asleep after only to wake up in the early morning hours. I eased out of bed without waking him and made my way to the kitchen.

I finally found the coffee and the coffee pot; all bought especially for me because he is a tea drinker. While the coffee is brewing I am going outside to pick oranges for juice. I think I could get used to all this. Hell, I think I’ll even try to learn to love green tea, enjoy the weather, and tolerate all the beautiful people ... maybe. I must learn to be tolerant and patient. Right now my patience is being sorely tried but I guess I will let him sleep a little longer before I go back to the bedroom and jump his bones.

California dreaming

2005-09-22T00:45:00.000+01:00

All the leaves are brown - All the leaves are brown
And the sky is gray - And the sky is gray
I've been for a walk - I've been for a walk
On a winter's day - On a winter's day
I'd be safe and warm - I'd be safe and warm
If I was in L.A. - If I was in L.A.
California dreaming - California dreaming
On such a winter's day

It isn’t really winter or a winter day but I have been California dreaming. Actually today is the first official day of autumn here in London. This is my favorite season. Wet, damp, misty and grey is the usual perception of an English autumn. And to a large degree that is true but I love when the foliage turning deep hues of red, orange and yellow in London’s beautiful parks. The colors are rivals of any of the amazing flower displays seen during the summer. Normally I would take Sam out for his walk and enjoy just being in London this special time of year. Instead I made reservations to fly to LA. Autumn will be spent in the land of perpetual sunshine and balmy weather.

Dark flew back to LA on Saturday. The final work on the film has to be completed there. We have been discussing our living situation ad nauseum almost from the beginning. He has to live in LA to work. He has the freedom to travel a lot but his base has to be there. I knew from the beginning that he would be leaving soon. What I didn’t know was how much I would miss him when he did. I moped around the house after he left. Jane and I spent the day together Sunday and wound up getting royally pissed. Jane came upstairs for breakfast and we started on mimosas. After two emptying 2 bottles of champagne without eating a bite we decided to go to the Belvedere restaurant in Holland Park for brunch. We changed into good clothes and set forth for the day. After a terrific brunch of Eggs Benedict and 2 bottles of Bollinger we decided to walk back to the house instead of taking a cab. Our reasoning was simple; we would try and hit as many pubs as possible on our way home. By the time we wound up at our local, the Zetland Arms, I had lost my tie and most of my senses obligating Jane to be the designated adult. And a masterful job she did too. I woke up in my own bed with bottled water and aspirin on the night stand and I can’t tell you how I got there. The last thing I remembered was calling Dark from the pub and telling him that I had decided to marry Jane since he lived in LA. Jane being the clever girl that she is turned me down while Dark told me to catch the next plane to LA. So, when I woke up I called him back and we both decided that we need to be together. I don’t care how much I love London in autumn. The simple fact is I love him more.

Saturday Sam and I are flying to LA. I’ll trade my sweaters and scarves for shorts and track suits; my fish and chips or Shepard’s pie for sushi or avocado and sprouts; and my needy heart for life with the man that stole it. I think this may be one of the best autumns of my life. I’ll let you know.

hum-drum

2005-09-07T02:45:00.000+01:00

I wish I knew what the hell is going on with me. I have not been able to think of anything to write about and I have not been keeping up with my favourite blogs. I am bad.

I am also a late bloomer. Middle age crazy did not arrive until I hit 54. Now that it is here it is kicking my ass. GB flew home on Sunday the 28th. Last week should have been spent missing him like crazy. Instead, I met someone.

That is right. I have a new infatuation. Color me slut. I had one relationship for 32 years. Now I have had 2 in 3 months. At this rate by Christmas I should be having a new one daily. ... As if. I am not robbing the cradle this time. Unlike GB, he is closer to my age. He is 42. Yes I know, I am still 12 years older but it sure sounds better than being 33 years older. He is a digital special effects artist from LA with his own lMDB listing. (Huge attraction! Huge I tell you!) Oh, and get this. His name is Dark. Is that a sexy name or what? We met on Monday, speed dated all week, and by Sunday we moved him out of his hotel and into my house.

Other than that, life has been dull. I wish I could think of something to write about.

lost in translation

2005-08-22T22:04:00.000+01:00

Note to self: it’s time for more French lessons.

My high school French has served me well enough over the years. When BC and I lived in Paris I managed to make it through the day with a smile and a pocket dictionary for times when my linguistic skills failed me. BC was fluent so he usually led the conversations and translated for me. From time to time I found that the French I was taught in high school wasn’t quite up to date. And this week it nearly got me in trouble.

I took GB to the building where BC and I used to live on Rue Saint Jacques in the Quartier Latin. The same boulangerie where I bought bread is still there in the same block. And the same ageless old lady is still behind the counter. It took her a minute but she recognized me. She flew out from behind the counter holding a baguette with arms outstretched to hug me.

I shouted “Come here old woman and kiss me!” in French ... or at least I thought I did. “Venir l'ici vieille femme et me baise!” But it turns out baiser isn’t kiss anymore in contempory French. Embrasser is the correct word for kiss.

Baiser is slang for fuck ... Who knew?

So “Come here old woman and fuck me!” stopped her dead in her tracks. Then she swatted me with the loaf of bread and shook her finger at me. Luckily she had a sense of humour and Anglo/Franco detente was restored.

Later that night in that same spirit of detente GB and I embrassé[d] and baise[d] our brains out.

If It's Tuesday,

2005-08-17T21:14:00.000+01:00

This Must be Belgium … was a great old movie. It’s Wednesday and we are in Belgium but I’m stealing the title anyway. “I'm Europe, Baby. I sent you Dutch Elm Disease, German Measles, and Russian Roulette. You sent me World Wind Vacation Tour #225. Now we're even” was the movie tagline.

I’ve always hated the 21 cities in 14 days tours. And here I am trying to do that very thing so that GB can see as much of Europe as possible before I send him back to the US. I’m playing tour guide and we are in Brussels today, yesterday was Amsterdam, and tomorrow is Paris. After that it is Zurich, Venice, Rome, Barcelona, and then a few days in Sitges and Ibiza.

Jane is with her family in Leeds now. After GB leaves and she returns I’ve promised to help her pack. The move won’t be difficult. She’s only moving downstairs into the lower ground floor flat and I’m moving upstairs into the main house. I rented the house to them furnished so there won’t be much to move.

OK, times up. We are off to Planète Chocolat. If I never post again then it is true. There really is death by chocolate.

le plus de choses change, le plus ils restent pareil

2005-08-10T01:43:00.000+01:00

The more things change, the more they stay the same. A million years ago when BC and I first visited London we happened upon Trafalgar Square. I was amazed by the number of pigeons there. It didn’t take long to understand why. People were buying bird seed from vendors and feeding the pigeons. BC decided to do the same so he bought a bag of feed and made the mistake of opening it close to his body. In a second he was covered by a mob of frantic pigeons. It was scene straight out of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. I snapped his picture while I burst out laughing. He kept yelling for me to stop which only egged me on. Finally the seed was consumed and BC was free. Then it was his turn to laugh. After all that commotion he was unscathed. Sadly, I was not. He pointed at my shirt and doubled over. I had pigeon shit on me. And thus a tradition was born.

Every time we returned to London BC demanded to go to Trafalgar Square to feed the pigeons and have his picture taken. I would reluctantly follow and take the photo. I have dozens of them. The only difference in the photos is BC's hair style and wardrobe. But there he stands, covered by flapping wings and grinning like an idiot. Incredibly history would repeat each time. BC would feed the pigeons and have his picture taken. Every single time I would get pigeon shit on me but BC would not. Every single time. Filthy fucking flying rats had it in for me.

I applauded Ken Livingstone, Lord Mayor of London, when he banned the bird seed vendors from the square in 2000. Later laws were enacted to restrict public feedings to early mornings. I thought I had been saved. But no, BC would buy bird seed and take it with him. So it continued, more feed, more pigeons, more photos, and more shit on Ray.

Since a trip to Trafalgar Square is a mandatory for tourists I took GB there yesterday. I posed him next to one of the bronze lions and took his picture. As he was standing there he started to laugh and then pointed at me. I didn’t need to look. I had been through it too many times in the past. I just reached into his backpack and took out the Handy Wipes. I might have changed the boy friend but the pigeons weren’t fooled a bit.

out of the mouths of babes

2005-08-05T13:54:00.000+01:00

My cousin T, his wife, his daughter, GB, and I were lazing around the pool last evening. I noticed T’s daughter ME staring at GB for the longest time. Finally she turned to me and blurted out “Ray. Is GB your little boy?” Considering ME is 4 and her father is 64 while GB is 21 and I am 54 the question wasn’t all that strange. It did cause a lot of laughter. But it has caused me once again to question just what the hell I am doing.

earrings, earrings, ... which earrings?

2005-08-02T15:48:00.000+01:00

OK, major musical trivia quiz because I’m bored and I’m just gay enough to know the answer.

On what original cast recording of a Broadway musical can you hear those lyrics? Name the musical, lyricist, song, and the character that sang them.

I can think of three bloggers that just might know the answer.

***Trivia Quiz Answer***

If you listen carefully to the original cast recording of Stephen Sondheim's A Little Night Music during the show stopping song Soon. Now. Later. you can hear Anne (Victoria Mallory) sing those words. You won't find it on any lyrics sheet. Now, everyone go stand in the corner. I still hold the title of the oldest gayest musical theatre queen. It also helped that I was in the audience opening night at the Shubert in 1973.

Houston sucks

2005-08-01T16:17:00.000+01:00

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I hate Houston. My apologies to all Houstonians that love this city. This is my second trip to Houston for a funeral in less than a month. Houston just means death to me. My father, mother, BC, BC’s Mom, and now Paula all in a space of five years. I never liked the city anyway and now I hate it. I’ll be here until Thursday. Paula’s funeral is today and her memorial service is Wednesday.

Saturday GB, Sam and I fly to London. I need the break. Can’t wait to get back to Cranley Place. I’ve been talking to Jane. She’s asked if I want to trade. She doesn’t want the whole house now and would like to trade for the flat. That suits me perfectly, I would enjoy having the house for myself. So I said yes. I look forward to dividing my time between London and Tennessee. And nothing will drag me back to Houston. "Hear that Houston? You and I are finished."

[P] was for Paula

2005-07-27T17:07:00.000+01:00

Bangkok/2005

This is one of the saddest days of my life. My friend [P], Paula , died yesterday in Baku, Azerbaijan. She was 53. She developed a sudden pulmonary embolism, was rushed to a clinic, worsened, and died before an air ambulance to Vienna could be arranged.

Houston/1969

Paula played a major role in my life. She was my friend throughout high school and was a fellow actor. She and [S], Scott, took me to The Palace that fateful night in 1970 when I met BC. They married later that year as BC and I became lovers. Our paths crisscrossed the globe over the next 35 years. The four of us met often in places like Austin, Paris, London, Halifax, Moscow, New Orleans, and Jakarta; wherever each of us happened to be working. I am godfather to their son and BC was godfather to their daughter. She and I were last together in Baku in April .

Paula came running when BC died, and again when I attempted suicide. She stayed with me, listened to me, loved me, and helped me put together the pieces of my life. I never had to ask. She just appeared. She is the one who told me to take the leap of faith and accept GB.

I talked to her 2 days ago and we were emailing back and forth only hours before she died.

P to Ray: It’s 3 am here. Scott is asleep. Slumber is evading me and I am tired of running after it.... Entertain me.
Ray to P: Shall I sing or dance?
P to Ray: Better dance. Your singing is crap.
Ray to P: Bitch
P to Ray: I am suffering from that old high school malady….the predawn crazies have taken over.
Ray to P: Oh honey, again? You've had those for decades...they always fade in the daylight...or whenever the scotch kicks in...
P to Ray: Fucker...LOVE YOU!

And I loved her. There really are too many angels in heaven tonight.

nothing but me

2005-07-25T15:12:00.000+01:00

So this past week was all about me. Nothing but Ray time. GB left last Monday to vacation with his parents. Time to take back my house and life. I’ve gotten used to living alone. In fact I like it.

I made a list of some of the things I was going to do while he was gone.

1. Have the bed all to myself and sleep late.
2. Go to the grocery store and buy some of my favourite foods.
3. Listen to music I like.
4. Buy some new clothes for myself before leaving for Europe.
5. Clean out my dresser drawers.

The week came and went. How did it go?

1. Bought a white noise machine because I had trouble falling asleep. I needed a little noise. GB has the cutest snore.
2. Came home from the grocery store with GB’s Coco Puffs and his smooth peanut butter.
3. OK, OK...GB may be right, the Cranberries aren’t bad.
4. Bought GB a white D & G shirt.
5. I did clean out the dresser and closet. Now GB has a drawer of his own and a little closet space.

Yes, this past week has been great, it was all about me.

I wonder what he’s doing right now.

catching up

2005-07-15T16:32:00.000+01:00

What a month! Can the bad news just stop for a while? Honestly kids, I would like a breather. You may have read or heard on the news about the TN teen that was attacked by a shark while in Panama City, FL. The attack occurred a couple of weeks ago. Poor guy had to have his leg amputated. Anyway, he is a local boy and I know his parents. I have been amazed by the outpouring of support from this area. Friends of the family and even the boy’s schoolmates made short roundtrips to FL, knowing they couldn’t see him, just to boost his morale. He’s back in TN now. Many fund raisers have been held, I helped organize one with some local businessmen, but the ones that inspire the most are the ones by the high school kids. The girls’ high school softball team had a car wash all weekend and raised over 2500 dollars. The community spirit has been overwhelming and has made me very proud to be a member.

Then more bad news, the London bombings on the 7th happened. I spent an entire day trying to get calls through to London to check on friends. The embassy in Washington was swamped with calls and the consulate in Nashville had little information. Thanks to a London blogger buddy I was able to get messages through until I could reach everyone. (Thanks Ewan, you’re aces and I owe you dinner at The Ivy when I return.) The worst news of all is that I lost another good friend to these fanatics. The guy that rents my house in London was severely injured in the Kings Cross blast and later died. Goddamn it! I lost a friend on American flight 11 when it crashed in the WTC 9/11 and now Danny. This has to stop.

I’m going to London next week and see what I can do for Jane. GB is going on vacation with his family so the timing is good. He’ll join me after. It will be his first trip so I get to do my tour guide routine and can introduce him to spotted dick . When he returns to Duke I may stay for a while. I’ve been feeling very British lately. Hopefully life will settle down and I can devote more time to blogging. Blogdom is another awesome community. Thanks also to Ms Bees Knees . “I heart you, girl. You rawk! Care for some spotted dick ?” Do yourself a favour. Go read her blog. You will thank me. Now I have to go prepare GB’s lunch. That boy is going to eat me out of house and home.

Happy 5th, pass the Ben Gay please

2005-07-05T15:38:00.000+01:00

When I was a child we had an older dog named Fritz. We were told that getting a puppy companion would be good for him. Make him enjoy his old age. So we got a puppy named Scooter. And Scooter used to run circles around old Fritz. She would grab his ear in her teeth and pull him in all directions. He didn’t seem to mind. He just let her play. Maybe he was happy. I don’t know. I do know he died 6 months later.

Yesterday was action packed. I grilled shrimp, chicken, and beef for fajitas. I made pico de gallo, gilled onions, guacamole, refried beans, Spanish rice, and queso. Friends and family came and went. Dos XXs and Patrone was consumed. Fireworks were exploded. GB insisted I play softball first, and then water volleyball for hours with him, which I did.

This morning he got up early and has gone cycling. I am tired and a little sore today so I decided to stay at home and have been lazing around on the sofa. Maybe old Fritz was happy after all. I just hope I don’t die in six months.

that's just the kind of guy i am

2005-06-29T14:05:00.000+01:00

I had a cold all weekend. A summer cold. Mostly just a nuisance.
GB thought it was funny though.
Made a game out of my misery.
He kept hiding the Kleenex.

When I woke up this morning my cold was almost gone.

GB woke up with a cold today…my cold.
I like to share, give things away.
That’s just the kind of guy I am.
Generous.

I gathered up all the boxes of Kleenex for him.

And then I put them in the sink and turned the water on.
I feel even better now.

Harlow

2005-06-27T20:40:00.000+01:00

Harlow has been on my mind a lot lately. Not Jean Harlow, the MGM 1930s blonde bombshell, I have been thinking about Harlow, the lesbian stripper whore. Those are Harlow's words, not mine.

I met Harlow a month after BC and I moved into our apt in Chelsea in 1971. We met all the other tenants in our building shortly after moving in but not Harlow. Chatty Patti, the unofficial hostess of Club 450, (nickname for our building) welcomed us with open arms and endless gossip about the other tenants and neighbors. She said that Harlow was a stripper that lived on the top floor of the building and never associated with her neighbors, real mystery woman. Harlow capitalized on her resemblance to Jean of the movies. She was also soft, voluptuous and had dyed her naturally blonde hair platinum. She always wore white and never was seen without her sun glasses. Harlow was at the top of her game and a NY legend of sorts.

Some nights when I had trouble sleeping and didn’t want to disturb BC I would go up to the rooftop and smoke a cigarette or two. It was one of those nights that I ran into Harlow for the first time. She was there in the dark with her own cigarette and didn’t acknowledge me at all. When she finished she disappeared downstairs. This happened again over the next week or so. Finally I walked over and spoke. We exchanged a few words and parted. Our conversations grew in length over the months.

Eventually I was invited into her apartment. It was one of those mirrored deco jobs with soft lighting and blackout drapes and matched her perfectly. We sometimes talked ‘til dawn, then she would go to bed and I would go back downstairs to BC. The rare occasions Harlow was seen in daylight she was usually climbing into or out of a limo in front of the building. I was to learn that several A list NY women enjoyed her company …for a fee. And Harlow was expensive.

One day after I returned from school there was a knock at the door. Harlow was standing there in a silk kimono wearing her shades and holding a shoebox. That image is burned in my brain. She handed me the box and asked me to keep it for her, then she opened the lid and showed me the pile of money inside. I told her I thought it was a better idea to just put in a bank. That’s when she asked me to bank it under my name or put it in a safety deposit box for her. She didn’t want to explain her source of cash to the IRS or keep it in her apartment. Anyway that’s how I became her banker. She would give me cash and I would take it to the bank.

Eventually I was able to drag Harlow to the Sunday brunches our building pals threw every week. She learned to let go, enjoy herself, and make some new friends.

One day Patti was whining about her car. She needed a lot of work done and couldn’t afford it. I told her I would lend her the money. She said she couldn’t take it until I explained it wasn’t my money, it belonged to Harlow. She wanted to make sure it was ok with Harlow so I led her upstairs. Harlow opened her door a crack, long enough to tell Patti to just to tell me the amount needed that I handled her finances and she didn't need the details. I loaned Patti the money, she paid it back with interest, and Harlow made even more money.

When BC and I moved from NYC I transferred all the money back to Harlow, and we kept in touch for many years.

When I returned home from my April trip I took my passports back to the bank and put them in my safety deposit box. I put them on top of some cash I keep for emergencies. I’ve been thinking about Harlow ever since.

public apology

2005-06-20T21:19:00.000+01:00

I have been a bad blogger lately. And for that I apologize to both of my readers. I confess that I haven’t kept up with reading your blogs on a daily basis either. Maybe it’s because its summer and I need to be outdoors more. I have really enjoyed my pool lately and I have a hella tan now. I enjoy my daily runs and my walks with Sam. That old dog has lost his winter fat and is enjoying lazing in the sun.

But the main reason I can’t concentrate or sit still long enough to write or read is that things are happening here with GB. And it’s scary and exciting both. I don’t want to really share too much yet. The situation is insane. There is that monumental age difference for instance which apparently does not bother him. But I have much more life experience and am more realistic. So I have many doubts. What an amazing guy he is though. He is smart. He is witty. He makes me laugh out loud. When he reaches out and touches my face my heart skips. Quite possibly he is the most handsome guy for his age I have ever seen. He has entered my life, turned everything upside down, and made me feel alive again.

I’m sitting here at my desk typing, glancing out the window, watching him work on a stone wall. He just stood up and turned to the window as if he knew. He is smiling at me and gesturing for me to come outdoors. Blogging must wait.

travel advisory

2005-06-16T16:02:00.000+01:00

Well this settles it then . I’m calling off my scheduled climb of Mount McKinley in Alaska next month. The rest of you should too. I mean, who needs this? It’s bad enough there are no Porta Potties with Charmin double ply. If I want diarrhea I’ll head to Mexico, grab some sun, lie on the beach, chug down margaritas, and then drink the tap water.

pssst...

2005-06-14T14:01:00.000+01:00

My gaydar is broken. It has failed me in spectacular fashion. And I’m so embarrassed. For decades it has been as reliable as a Rolex. Then with no warning, it broke. So I have taken it to Homo Depot for a tune up.

Until it’s repaired all you family, and friends of Dorothy out there, are just going to have to help me out. Could you wear red shirts like Gay Day at Disney so I can recognize you? Don’t want you to think I’m stuck up or something. Or if you don’t look good in red maybe you can just shoot me the secret signal, handshake, or say the password. You know the ones.

Tuna Girl’s post about educating her mom about gays reminded me of my experiences with my mom. After I came out, my mom had a million questions. I finally had to make a game out of it, yank her chain a little.

Mom: So how do ya’ll tell know if someone’s gay? Do you wear something special?
Ray:*sigh* Well, a guy in a dress is a good tip off. But a pink polo shirt is the real signal. Any guy in a pink polo shirt is gay.
Mom: (long pause) Thanks for telling me. I was going to buy your father a pink polo shirt for his birthday.
Ray: Get him cologne, Mom.

My mother’s education about homohood peaked when I took her to a gay bar. She loved it. And I must say, it seemed everyone in the bar loved her. Mom was quite the most popular person there that afternoon. She pestered me for ages after that. “When are you and BC going to take me to another gay bar?” And I would mumbled “Just as soon as I can find you a pink polo shirt, Mom.”

Anyway, I’ll let you know when my gaydar is fixed. See, I was wrong. It turns out that Garden Boy is gay after all. But that’s the subject of a later post.

photo, finish

2005-06-09T19:44:00.000+01:00

That afternoon I went to BC’s boyhood home. His father was there, looking great for being 93 and still sharp as a tack. Brother Billy was there of course, drunk as usual. And Sister Bar. So much history in that living room, the first time I entered that room I was 19 and scared to death. Now I was 54 and this time I had no strong emotion. You can’t be too sad when someone dies at 93. But it was odd. Not seeing BC’s Mom there with that sweet smile. Mom had a special naivety and gentle grace. She adored BC and since I did too she loved me.

Mom was a devoted Anglophile. She loved all things British. She always observed tea time. And she always beamed when BC and I arrived with scones, clotted cream, and strawberry jam. David Niven, Cary Grant, and Vincent Price were her favourite actors. I got soaked by rain while waiting in a line to get Vincent Price to autograph one of his cookbooks so I could give it to her for Christmas. You often found Mom engrossed in a worn, dog eared copy of an Agatha Christie mystery that knew she had read a dozen times already. When BC and lived in London, we brought Mom over to stay with us for the summer one year. We served as her tour guides, chauffeurs, valets, and dinner companions. She had the time of her life. And God, how she glowed when we took her for tea at the Palm Court in the Ritz.

There was a visitation the next day, followed by a funeral mass. I laughed, standing there in the nave of St. Vincent de Paul, remembering Monsignor Connelly’s words. I had been an altar boy and president of the CYO at the Houston/Galveston diocese. And the good Monsignor had hoped to snag me for the priesthood. He had heard so many of my confessions and his penances were never much. But he wasn’t happy when I told him I was gay. We had several heated discussions and one shouting match which occurred in the very same nave. I yelled that I rejected the Church and it’s condemnation of my love for BC. And I promised I would never set foot in his church again. He pointed his finger at me shouting “You will be back.” And he was right. You can be a lapsed Catholic till the end of your life but you always are a Catholic. And here I stood, one more time, back in his church, but still unrepentant.

I spent that afternoon driving by old haunts; my parents home, my high school, theatres I had acted in, houses BC and I had owned, old neighbourhoods; and even that hideous, vast, frigid air conditioned, temple to conspicuous consumption, the Galleria. I didn’t feel anything at any of those places. I was saying my goodbyes. Just before closing I went back to the cemetery where that large flat granite marker lay, chiselled with BC’s name and that of his parents. BC and I had hadn’t put out burial wishes in writing. I let his father decide. Besides that idea of a disco mausoleum with a light show and Gloria Gaynor blaring from the speakers would never have worked. I put the flowers I brought into their holder. Then I took the photo out of my suit pocket, knelt, and put it between the flowers. It was the photo of BC and I, with Mom smiling in the middle, tightly holding our hands taken that day at the Ritz. Then I left. Houston is the past. I headed home the next day. I drove back to TN and looked to the future.

*** Addendum ***

After reading the last two posts I almost wanted to stick my tongue into a light socket. Next week I think I’ll write about lesbian whores, that blind cat, and the night the horse crapped onstage.

photo

2005-06-06T16:10:00.000+01:00

I got the call early Memorial Day morning. It wasn’t like the other call. This time it brought no shock or that awful roaring noise that drowned out the caller. It was a call I knew I would receive soon. I found myself staring out the same window as before. I listened and assured her I would come. I hung up and went upstairs to find that photo.

The caller was BC’s sister. BC’s mom had passed away. It was no surprise, of course. She was 93. She had Alzheimer’s for years. It was a blessing when BC died because she never knew. He was her last child. Her favourite.

I decided to drive to Houston and take Sam with me. He loves road trips and might not get to go on many more since he’s getting up in years. I packed, loaded up the car and set off. I enjoyed the drive. It’s been a long time since I took a long drive. I drove straight through and made it in 10 hours. The entry into Houston from I59N is still as an eyesore, billboards line the highway.

Suzanne left a spare key for me and I let myself in. Sam immediately went looking for Mr. Kitty. I brought in my bags. I took out the photo, looked at it for a while, and then I opened the garment bag and put it in my suit pocket.

State sanctioned pr[e]ying

2005-05-26T18:37:00.000+01:00

It seemed that it was going to be a quiet news day here in the hills. But normal network programming has been interrupted by the local affiliates with this story.

I love a good political scandal even on this penny ante scale. I mean the entire amount of the bribes was less than $120,000. Our state lawmakers are not an ambitious lot. Boss Tweed wouldn’t have gotten out of bed for less than 6 mil. I can only surmise our politicos were too busy dismantling healthcare coverage for the poor in our state and protecting the sanctity of marriage from the godless homosexuals to aspire to more.

Stick to what you know

2005-05-23T20:53:00.000+01:00

The last few days have not been all that great here in the hills. My shoulder has been bothering me. Again. After the unfortunate accident in which I broke my collar bone I endured three surgeries to repair the damn break. I spent six months in a figure eight back brace and sling while taking electro-magnetic field treatments before the doctor gave up on the break healing itself and ordered surgery. In the first operation they put in a small metal plate and 4 screws, 2 one each side of the break. Less than 3 weeks later one side of the plate popped loose. Not fun. So a second surgery was ordered.

The second operation involved removing the first hardware and replacing it with a longer metal brace with eight screws. The break never healed, so for a few years the clavicle was held in place by the hardware alone. Then one day BC and I found a life size marble bust of the goddess Hera in an antique shop in London and we decided to buy her. The shop had it delivered. It arrived in a wooden crate that took two burly delivery men a great deal of effort to push/pull up the front steps to the entrance hall. BC tried to pay the delivery guys to unpack it and place it the niche but they smartly declined. I decided we could do it ourselves and proceeded to attack the crate with a hammer and chisel.

You can guess what happened after that. The bust weighed 300 lbs. When we lifted it with a lot of cursing and straining it start to slip from my grasp. I grabbed it under the tits as it slipped and then I felt a snap in my shoulder and my arm sagged. Turned out the metal plate, already weakened by normal wear and tear, broke in half. Strangely it did not hurt much. Stupidly I put off going to the doctor until it did start hurting. So I had a third operation.

This time they removed the scrap metal, cleaned out the scar tissue, and put in 3 interlocking metal plates with 10 screws. Now I am bionic. The break eventually healed. The only problem was my shoulder ached when ever there was a change in the weather. Truly. That was a small price to pay I felt.

My last visit to the orthopaedic surgeon the x-ray showed some resorption around the screws. I was told that meant the hardware was loosening up and might need removal later. Well kiddies, I think later is finally here. I awoke with an achy shoulder Thursday and sure enough we had a storm that night. The storm passed but the ache hasn’t stopped and it is driving me mad. I now feel the plates moving whenever I raise my arm too. Bummer. So I will call the doctor tomorrow and I’m sure I will need a fourth operation.

This weekend whenever I passed that effing bust of Hera on the stair landing I had the urge to take a sledgehammer to it and turn it into gravel.

The moral to the story is that gay boys should stick to what they know, like statues of David. Oh, and never grab a goddess by her tits.

Answered prayers: flip side

2005-05-18T22:32:00.000+01:00

Was it so wrong to pray a little for warmer weather?

If it warmed up, Garden Boy [GB] would probably work shirtless. And if GB worked shirtless that would make me very happy.

My prayers were answered. Today it got very warm. But not before GB called and told me he couldn’t start work until Saturday. Then one of my central A/C units decided to die and can’t be fixed until tomorrow when a part arrives.

I am the only one working shirtless around here today. And I’m not very happy.

*sigh* Sometimes I don’t appreciate God’s sense of humor.

Ah, youth!... Ah, history...

2005-05-16T12:22:00.000+01:00

In order to help alleviate my boredom I decided I needed a hobby. I thought I’d try gardening. I know. I know I’ve already said I am a house plant’s worst nightmare. But I’m going to try anyway. I want an herb and vegetable garden. And I want dry stack stone walls built around it with a centred fieldstone path. My neighbour said that his son could probably do the work. I vaguely remembered the kid as a scrawny teenager that didn’t look like he could run a garden tiller much less build a stone wall. But I told him to send him over to talk to me.

Yesterday, the neighbour’s son showed up. He turned out not to be a skinny teen at all but a 6' 4", body of death, face of a male super model, smokin’ hot, full grown porn star fantasy. I was amazed to learn he was just home from his junior year in college. Dear Cher, when did all this happen? Obviously I need to keep better track of time... and my neighbours. I have never been attracted to young guys though. Well, I was when I was their age. But now I’m old enough to have sons that age I find the whole older man/younger guy concept unappealing and possessing a high ick factor. No, really. However, I guess he was easy on the eye if you like that ho-hum kind of flawless young Greek god perfection. Besides I’m sure the guy is straight. My gaydar didn’t ping once. ~~.....dammit~~.

We walked over to where I want the garden and discussed the size and layout of the plot. I told him what I wanted ~~him to do to me~~ in a garden and he sketched it out on a small spiral notebook that took him forever to pull out of the back pocket of the faded denim tightly stretched over a callipygian bubble butt that would bring tears to the eyes of a lifeless stone statue. Not that I was actually ~~staring~~ looking, mind you, because he wasn't my type. And while he struggled to dig this thumb and forefinger into the snug rear pocket his bicep bunched and bulged under tanned velvety skin and veins on his perfectly muscled forearm stood out from his exertions. Underneath the sleeveless T-shirt his dinner plate size pecs swelled over a set of six pack abs. But really, all I was interested in was his help with the garden. When he squatted his thigh muscles nearly split the thin worn jeans that strained to cover powerful legs that you know could wrap around and squeeze you hard enough to find religion again. Oh, sweet baby Jesus! Yes, Lord! Praise God! Not that I cared because that would be, well, wrong. We discussed the wall construction while he tapped his pen against his pouty, perfectly formed lips that were just made to be kissed, licked, and bitten in the heat of wild chandelier swinging hot monkey sex. But I was too distracteded to really make that kind of gross observation. I was amazed by the sudden rapid change in ~~my pulse~~ the weather. ~~I was~~ It was getting hotter by the minute.

Anyway, we made a deal. He starts this week. But I have never been so glad in my life to see someone drive off. As soon as his car rounded the turn in the drive I could finally exhale and relax my stomach muscles. I wonder what that was all about.

Now I’m ~~rethinking botox and maybe an eye lift~~ thinking maybe after the vegetable garden ~~we definitely should get married~~ I should start planning a flower garden.

One down, one to go.

2005-05-10T18:50:00.000+01:00

I made up my mind to keep my house in London. I still think I will eventually move there permanently. Until then I plan on dividing my time between the US and the UK. I called Bill Sunday and gave him the news. He was OK with the whole thing. He’s going to start looking for a place. But he said they may decide not to buy as central London properties are so expensive and they love the house.

That leaves me with the decision about the place here. I am leaning toward staying here. I think I’ll call my realtor, decline the offer, and pull the house off the market. I am not ready to give up our house. Maybe one day, but I don’t think I can do it just yet. And I like the idea of having S & P for neighbours.

Having said that, there are two things that really bug me about living here.
1. I never had allergies until I moved here. Now I sneeze from April until June. I hate that.
2. The local Nashville network affiliates and newspaper are crap. I hate not having a good newspaper and local news show.

That reminds me, every news report this week has been drug related. Who knew there was such a huge drug problem in Tennessee? Not I. Well that’s not exactly true. I vaguely remember a National Geographic article years ago that said marijuana had become the state’s number one cash crop. Now the big scourge is crystal meth. Forget the days of moonshine stills, evidently today every hillbilly and his brother/uncle has a meth lab. Tennessee has become the meth lab capital of US. I always associated drugs with big cities. Sadly, that’s not true. They’re everywhere, even here in small town America. Our local hospital in the nearest town recently had an incident where a nurse witnessed someone steal a morphine patch from a patient's chest and flee. I think I’ll dig a moat around my property and pull up the drawbridge.

I have managed to ramble from real estate to drugs. I think you have suffered enough. I’ll quit before I bore you even more with the latest stories about this or that local “celebrity”.

“Come on, Sam. It’s time to walk the north forty and plan that moat”.

Make up your mind, Scarlett

2005-05-05T17:10:00.000+01:00

I have some important decisions to make and frankly they are driving me crazy. While I was in London Bill and Claudia told me that they wanted to buy my house. They have rented the house from me for the last two years. Bill knows that he is going to end his career in London so it makes sense for him to invest in a house. But I’m not sure if I really want to sell.

BC and I bought the house and then did major renovations top to bottom, inside and out. It’s a terrace house in South Kensington. There is the house itself and a self contained flat on the lower ground floor (or basement as we would call it here) that we designed as a rental unit. That’s the flat I use. We bought the house in 1983. Since then the average house price in London has risen 740 percent. And in the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea the figure is almost double that. That makes the house one of the best investments we ever made. If I did sell the house I would make a lot of money.

When I decided earlier this year that I was tired of the isolation here in Tennessee I planned to sell the house here and move back to London. But I have been having second thoughts about selling it. Despite my gripes I love this place. BC was an architect and he designed this house for us. It has all the things we always wanted in a house. BC designed the kitchen of my dreams. I could run a restaurant from this kitchen. I have four ovens, warming drawers, refrigerated drawers, two sinks, two dishwashers, wine storage cooler, Viking range with six burners and grill, Sub Zero refrigerator and freezer, and acres of granite counter tops. Can you tell I like my kitchen? The house sits on sixty acres of rolling hills with great views. Oh, Sam says I forgot to mention his favourite spot, the pond where he swims in the summer. It is my mini Tara or Neverland minus the llamas, chimp, paedophile, and little boys. But in the interest of truth I must admit there is a fair amount of Jesus juice and porn.

I am not trying to brag about my house. It is after all just a house. Before we could afford to build it we had to work very hard for many years, save, and invest wisely. I just want you to know that it is a dream house. If I sell it I will be giving up our dream. Yet it was always a lot of house for two people and it is now even more for one.

A couple of things happened this week. The county tax appraisal arrived. The countywide reassessment happens every six years. The value of the house has increased 30 percent. Luckily that won’t translate into a larger tax bill (yet). The state is using the reappraisal to set the tax rate for the county to bring in the same amount of revenue generated last fiscal year. So the house as an investment has appreciated nicely. S and P called Tuesday and reiterated their interest in buying 10 acres or so from me and building a home. We discussed this in Baku last week. It would be great to have them as neighbours. Then this morning my realtor called with an offer she received. She had an open house while I was on vacation. So there is a potential buyer.

The blogging may be hit or miss for a while since I have a lot of thinking to do. ...Fiddle de de... What do I really want? Sell or not sell. Stay or move. If so, where? And most important, what in the world do I want to be when I grow up? ...*music swells*... I'll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day... Excuse me now while I pour myself a little....ah, juice. Wait, wait, wait....it's Cinco de Mayo. Make that a margarita.

Planning the next trip

2005-05-02T17:53:00.000+01:00

I enjoyed London so much that I have decided to go back this fall. I’m thinking of staying September to December. I’ll take Sam with me. He has just about forgiven me for leaving him at home this trip. The day I got home he ignored me for hours. He refused to budge off the couch when I tried to get him to go upstairs to bed. Later that night he woke me up when he jumped on the bed, pushed me to one side, and snuggled against my back. It is good to be owned by such a benevolent dictator.

I have conferred with Sam and he approves of London. However he insists we cross Hamburg off our itinerary.

Chuck, Cam, Mary, and me

2005-04-28T21:17:00.000+01:00

I think I may have gotten 2 hours sleep ~~last night~~ this morning. But I did manage to stumble over to The Regency and have a proper English breakfast. Eggs, rashers of bacon, grilled kidneys, fried bread, fried potatoes, broiled tomato, mushrooms, black pudding, coffee, tea, orange juice, fruit, cereal, and best of all – beans on toast. Yum. Then I waddled back to my flat where I will probably die of a heart attack due to clogged arteries.

Bill and Claudia had my flat aired out and stocked the fridge with juice and champers. Yay! When they picked me up they hit me with the news. They want to buy my house. I don’t know what I feel about that. But that’s a post for another day. I’m off to buy a Charles and Camilla tea towel. I’m going to see 'Mary Poppins' in the West End tonight. Ah, to be ~~young and~~ gay in London! Here’s a pic of my flat. And yes, I know, it is a bit twee. But it was always intended to be a rental unit.

I’m flying back tomorrow. So have a great weekend. Cherio and ta-ta till next week.

Souvenirs

2005-04-26T15:02:00.000+01:00

I have received two very special gifts since arriving back in Baku. The first one I received Sunday evening and the second one last night.

When we arrived back at S and P’s villa there was a message waiting from their friends that own The Wharf restaurant. One of the local waitresses, Katya, from their restaurant had gone home, climbed the stairs in her apartment building and had been assaulted. The attacker did not take any money or sexually assault her. He did stab her between the ribs just missing her liver. The blade punctured her lungs three times. He left her in the darkened hallway. Luckily a neighbor found her and got her to the emergency clinic.

We dropped our bags and headed to the clinic. It was like stepping back into a third world country. The stairs were filthy, the floors were filthy, and wards were about 25 feet by 18 feet, with about 6 beds along each wall. These hospitals are nothing more than a room. The patient brings the bandages needed, the drugs, the bed linen, and the food required for the stay. The conditions are truly deplorable. She was very weak. We visited with her for a few minutes and told her we would return later that evening.

From the hospital we headed to The Wharf. We huddled with their friends about what we could do to help. It was decided that The Wharf would donate all of Monday’s receipts and S and I said that we would match them dollar for dollar. We found out that it was also Katya’s birthday. So we left the restaurant and went shopping for birthday and get well gifts. S and I let P do the shopping while he and I discussed plans to castrate her attacker if he were ever caught. However satisfying that might have been to us it wouldn’t have helped Katya at all. That’s when S and I came up with a new plan. By the time P had returned we were in complete agreement about what we were going to do.

When we arrived at the clinic P went to the ward with the gifts. S and I found her doctor and told him our idea. He told us that our plans were just what Katya needed. He left to make the arrangements and we headed to tell Katya and P. We found them talking to her mother who looked so worried. S told them that he and I had talked to her doctor and that we were having Katya transferred to the new American hospital where all Westerners are treated and that S and I were going to pay for her stay. For once in her life P was speechless. But the look of relief on Katya’s mother’s face is the special gift I was speaking of. It was far more valuable than anything S and I could ever give.

By Monday afternoon it seemed that the entire American ex-pat community had heard about Katya and was lining up to help. A fund has been set up to help her when she is released from the hospital.

Later that evening we went out to dinner with an Azeri gay couple that S and P befriended. Dimitri is the assistant manager at the Hyatt and Ayas is a pilot for Azerbaijan Airlines. The guys have been together for eight years. They have to be very careful as Azerbaijan is a very conservative Muslim country. We had a great time and I really enjoyed watching the two of them interact. They reminded me a little of BC and I. They also reminded me that love is eternal, it never truly ends. That was my second gift.

So I am ready to head home on Wednesday. I have decided to spend a day in London instead of New York. This has been a really good trip. I got to visit and travel with my best friends. I got to help someone in need. I had my soul nourished by the commitment of two gay men. And I’m taking those gifts home with me.

Oh yeah, just in case you mistakenly think I’ve become all selfless and think only of others now, you should know I’m leaving my altruism in Baku as there isn’t room in my suitcases. Because I’m also taking home the great antique rug I bought in the old city, a fur Cossack hat, the sapphires that P bought me in Bangkok (which I will have made into cufflinks), two bottles of fine Russian vodka, and several jars of cosmetic volcanic mud because I am that gay. Told you I don’t travel light.

et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...

2005-04-22T16:18:00.000+01:00

It is time to end ‘The Queen and I’ tour as P has dubbed our Thailand trip. Tomorrow we return to Baku. I spent the day in a cooking class. (Gaeng ped, anyone?) P dragged S off shopping. Poor bastard.

Yesterday was full of sightseeing. The Grand Palace and Wat Phra Kaew, the Temple of the Emerald Buddha complex were, to say the least, dazzling. The only thing missing was Yul Brenner.

If only Marni Nixon were there to dub P as she warbled ‘Shall We Dance’.

Bangkok birthday

2005-04-21T01:18:00.000+01:00

Trust me when I say that everyone should celebrate their 54th birthday in Bangkok. I had a blast.

S and P took me to ~~a fabulous Las Vegas revue~~ the Calypso Cabaret last night. Calypso is a famous drag/tranny cabaret. The show was great.

And S bribed the MC to ensure that I was properly embarrassed and humiliated. I was subjected to a lap dance from an ugly transvestite who informed the audience that she was my mail order bride and I was in Bangkok to pick her up and take her back to the US.

P had phoned ahead and ordered a birthday cake. And you have not lived until you have heard 'Happy Birthday' sung off-key by a bevy of Thai drag queens. Priceless.

We interrupt your normal programming…

2005-04-20T00:41:00.000+01:00

…to bring you this breaking news story from Bangkok, Thailand.

Today at 2:32 pm I officially ~~was elected Pope~~ became this. Yes kiddies, I turned 54. I have taken a brief disco nap and am now ready to ~~molest, pillage, and terrorize the local population~~ begin the official celebrations. Further news as it develops.

…We return you now to your regularly scheduled programming.

Your typical road trip: volcanoes, flaming mountains, and the Evil Eye

2005-04-17T00:02:00.000+01:00

P and I set out on our road trip in her vintage Russian UAZ. Hot car. Bad driver. We are barely out of the city before she is lost. I commandeer the jeep and the map and we set off again.

Baku is a port city ringed by mountains, amphitheater-like. Just beyond that ring there is another set of mountains, appropriately nicknamed the Candy Cane Mountains.

We stopped to snap some pics at Yanar Dag (Mountain of Fire). Escaping natural gas at the bottom of a cliff has been burning for centuries. Similar spots abound in Azerbaijan which made it very popular with Zoroastrians and pyromaniacs. Next to the fire, villagers have set up a couple of benches and tables, where they sit at night drinking vodka until someone throws a rock at the limestone, kicking up a new batch of flames. Idiots. They should be drinking vodka and blogging.

We stopped at a roadside café for ~~vodka~~ tea and cakes. A little farther up the road we reach our destination and the purpose for our trip, the mud volcanoes. P has heard about the benefits of the volcanic mud. S would never agree to come with her so she waited until I got here to ~~nag~~ ~~badger~~ ~~hassle~~ ~~poke~~ ~~prod~~ invite me to go along. The mud is cold. It bubbles up with natural gas. There are NO SMOKING signs in several languages because a mud volcano can explode, shooting flames hundreds of meters into the sky. The mud is also rich in minerals. We fill the containers we brought with us with the mud. P is now happy. She has her beauty supplies. And we can now return to civilization ~~and caviar~~.

We race back to Baku, pausing once to pick some camel’s thorn which local superstition says will protect against the Evil Eye and to ~~flirt with~~ photograph a local cowboy.

Later last night as we were strolling through a nearby street market I see a woman with a table piled high with jars of volcanic mud. It seems we never needed to leave the city at all. P should pray that the camel’s thorn protects her. My eye is twitching.

So, you think daylight savings time is bad?

2005-04-15T16:02:00.000+01:00

P is such a devoted friend. She has hidden all sharp objects as I have professed the intention of slitting my throat. I have such a hideous case of jet lag. I spent a total of ~~8,126~~ 17 hours on airplanes Wednesday while crossing ~~the globe repeatedly~~ 9 time zones. My internal clock is still screaming “Why? Why do you do this? You’re not 18. I hate you.”

Instead of letting me sleep yesterday P decided I had to get up and go with her to S’s office. He wanted to show me his office and then take us to lunch. After much cursing and feeble attempts to swat her as she tugged on my sheet I finally got out of bed and into the shower. When we got to S’s office building I couldn’t go inside immediately. I was mesmerized by the uh…, security barriers. I stood there pointing, snapping pics, and giggling like a little girl. OK, I was almost comatose with exhaustion but what do these look like to you? I so needed a nap.

S wanted to take us to The Wharf, a Cajun restaurant owned by friends of theirs. I wanted no part of it. That would be like eating chicken fried steak in Paris. It’s just so wrong. I told him I wanted local foods. So he took us to an Azeri seafood restaurant on the docks. It made me very happy. I got to eat all the ~~simple peasant food~~ caviar I was craving. You would not believe how cheap caviar is here. I may never leave.

After lunch we waddled off to explore the city a little.

P has promised me a relaxing ‘day of beauty’ Saturday but I first have to trek off with her to mountains today. There is always a catch with that woman. Jeez Louise, …a road trip with jetlag. As an inducement she says I can have caviar for dinner tonight. mmm...Did I mention how much I love ~~caviar~~ road trips?

Naked jumping

2005-04-12T14:15:00.000+01:00

The flight to NYC yesterday went smoothly. Larry and Denis picked me up at JFK and drove me out to their house in Montauk. It is beautiful out here. I wanted to get naked, streak to the beach this morning and jump in the Atlantic to celebrate Aaron’s great news . But it was too cold. Instead I jumped naked into the shower. We head to the city today and see Spamalot tonight. Tomorrow I fly to London, change planes and fly to Baku. If I don’t die of jetlag I’ll post from Azerbaijan.

Dilemma

2005-04-10T22:54:00.000+01:00

Once upon a time I used to travel light. A backpack, carry on, or single suitcase was all I would need. Sadly that is no longer true. But do I really need that third suitcase?

I can either pay off everyone’s school loans or I can pay the overweight baggage charges this trip, not both.

So... You are on your own, people.

***UPDATE: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. P just called with our flight info for Thailand. It seems we leave Baku 5:05AM arriving in Vienna at 6:20AM (4 hour 15 min flight) and do not leave for Bangkok until 11:20PM (9 hour layover) arriving Bangkok 2:30PM (10 hour 10 min flight). Somehow I think she glossed over this flight plan from hell when she was pushing the Thailand trip. Clearly she must be punished.

***NOTE TO SELF: Forget three suitcases. Take steamer trunk. It can be used to hide her body.

A birthday gift

2005-04-08T18:35:00.000+01:00

I haven’t been able to write as much about BC as I thought I would when I started this blog. I’m not a very good writer and I can’t stand the thought that I might not do him justice. He still lives in my heart and my memories are very strong but when I try write about him I am never satisfied. I write and then rewrite and yet when I read what I’ve written I decide I haven’t captured him at all. I’m fiercely protective of his memory so I end up erasing everything.

But I have to write about him today. You see, I got another letter from him today. Actually I found another letter from him today. BC was a prolific writer. He started writing a journal when he was six and he never stopped. I have all of his journals. One year for his birthday I had them bound in leather as a present. That was his most favorite birthday gift from me and I so got laid that night. He was a great letter and note writer too. Nearly every day for 32 years I would find some sort of missive on my pillow, plate, car seat, or maybe in one of my books. They could be anywhere. Their subject matter varied. One day it might be a poem. The next day it might be something he had forgotten to tell me that morning. Sometimes it might be a joke. And occasionally it might be an attempt to have the last word in an argument. (Huh...Like I ever let that happen.) More often than not it was to tell me that he loved me. I kept each one. I have boxes of them.

After he died I realized just how much I missed getting them. I would find myself absentmindedly looking for that day’s note only to snap out of it and realize that there wouldn’t be any more. That was hard.

This morning I pulled out suitcases from the luggage closet so that I could begin to pack for my trip. I laid them out on the bed in one of the bedrooms. After I opened them I noticed the corner of a piece of paper peeking out of an interior pocket. I pulled it out and immediately recognized the handwriting on the envelope. It was BC’s. I stopped what I was doing and took it downstairs. I sat for the longest time just turning it over and over in my hands. I wanted to savor it before I finally opened and read it. I wondered when he had put it there. What had he written? How had I missed it before?

Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and I tore it open. I read it repeatedly and frankly I haven’t been able to stop smiling. I can share the last line of the letter with you. It was pure BC. It said “Thank you for insuring that I never had to hunt for a date on Friday night for the last 3 decades.” I’m glad now that I didn’t find it sooner. I consider it an early birthday present. And I think it may be my most favorite gift from him. “Thanks, Babe.”

Anyone up for Pad Thai?

2005-04-08T00:37:00.000+01:00

There has been a change in my itinerary. I got a call from P last night and she wants us to go to Thailand for my birthday instead of St. Petersburg. I accused her of finding a Thai lover on her last trip. She says she had so much fun in February that she wants us to go together. Right. She just wants to go shopping again and spend more of S’s money. Whatever. I’m easy. If I’m lucky I might be able to squeeze in a cooking class while I’m there.

To kill or not to kill?

2005-04-06T21:05:00.000+01:00

I have been trying to write since Sunday but I can not seem to complete a sentence. The problem is I have been in the foulest mood. Every time I try to write the blackness overwhelms me and I have to stop. So if you came here looking for sweetness and light or God forbid something funny then please toddle off to someone else’s blog cause you are not going to find it here. Not today and probably not all week. I am far too busy planning the murder.

Poison? No. It’s too hard to find. I’m fairly sure you can’t find it on eBay. And it’s not like you can just go to The Poison Store. “Hello. How are you? I’d like a pint of potassium cyanide please. Do you take American Express?” And it’s too easy to identify. I’ve watched CSI. Gil Grissom would say “The victim’s breath smells like bitter almonds. It must have been potassium cyanide. Catherine, check the records and CCTV tapes at The Poison Store and see who bought potassium cyanide lately.” I would be caught, tried, convicted, and served my own lethal injection cocktail in no time at all. No. Definitely, not poison.

Car wreck? I could always cut the brake lines. The brakes would fail as the car rounds a curve and then plow into a pole holding high voltage power lines which would drop and voila,…electrocution. No. That’s not a sure thing. The car might not crash at all, much less into a power line. Besides I know nothing about brake lines. Where are they any way, in the trunk? No, I’d have to call AAA and I don’t think that is part of their roadside assistance program. And they have my card number and keep records too. I would be caught, tried, convicted, and electrocuted in no time at all. No. Scratch the cut brake line idea.

Gun? Knife? No. I don’t own a gun and besides I might accidentally shoot myself. If I used a knife I’d have to get rid of it. I have expensive chef knives and I’d hate to lose one. I don’t think a butter knife would work and I don’t own a Ginsu. You have to get up close and personal to use either one which means I’d need a disguise. It’s already spring. I bet you can’t find a pastel ski mask anywhere. I would be caught, tried, convicted, and shot by a firing squad in no time at all. Or maybe Big Bubba would stab me with a shank the first time I said I had a headache when he wanted sex before I ever went to trial. No. Guns and knives are out.

I may have to rethink this whole murder thing. I probably don’t have time to plan it carefully, much less carry it out before I leave on vacation. And besides, Johnny Cochran just died. Although Robert Blake’s attorney is available I hear. No. No. Maybe I won’t commit murder after all.

I mean it’s not like she meant to do it.
Even trained professionals have bad days.
She did drive all the way out to my house on a Sunday.
It was her day off and it was a favor to me.
After all I did serve her all those shots with beer chasers before she started.
And she didn’t charge me…

Still, a bad haircut justifies murder don’t you think?