The blog of the 30-something fag- July Edition
July 31st

That's a Wrap, Jack!
This will be my last posting for the Month of July, and what a Month it has been. Full of joy, sadness, new beginnings and discovery. Probably one of the most eventful, and fulfilling months of the entire blogging year.
The month of August promises a family reunion on the river, the completion of the Walsemann sign, and my own personal homecoming with my baby's Rusty, Mickey, and of course, Bang.
I'm in San Juan today, leaving for Syracuse this afternoon.
My layover in San Juan is always an opportunity for me to wind down after the stress-filled fun of Dominica, a chance to be alone, and to just take a deep breathe and be still.
I love wandering around Old San Juan, there's so much to see. I started last night in the cool air, taking night photos of the buildings, and blue cobblestone streets. I've posted those images here for you to enjoy.
There was a remarkable number of statues in a one-square-mile radius of my hotel, and I snagged one image, and I learned a neat trick with my camera. I put the aperature on the "slow" setting, and got images of the night sky so sharp I can see the clouds, and I even got stars in them, that's a miracle. Check 'em out!>>>

This completes the end of the first Year of "Hell's BAsement, I hope you enjoye reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Next Month- Return to Los Angeles!

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July 30th, 2004

I leeft My heart, (and feet) een Domma-knee-Kah

On the way to the airport, Michael and I stopped at Miranda's for lunch, a small cafe with tables outside, and no glass in the windows. Basically the shell of a building, with no need for a license to make and sell food. She has a wonderful baked chicken smothered in garlic that she keeps in a dish, under a heat lamp in a glass display box on the counter, visible as you walk in. Michael and I each grabbed a greasy wing to gnaw on before the long winding drive to Melveille hall. I orderd a Kubuli, the local beer brewed on the island, and he got himself a vega-malt. "Eet ees for de best" he said, "I hoff to be care-full," he went on in his Caribbean accent,"I shood not drink and drive while I am wer-King".
The Dominicans accent is easy to emulate, though it took a while for me to figure it out. You simply put the accent of your sentence in a different place, and before you know it, you sound like you're from Jamaica. Whenever I've come here, it was always a good three days of listening, and asking someone to repeat themselves a few times before I could actually understand that the person I was talking to was speaking English. Then, all of a sudden, the Dominican dialect, which previously sounded like swahili through a mouth full of marbles, suddenly becomes clear, and the whole world opens up to you. There are some tricks though, for example the sound made by TH is pronounced as an F, so when buying gifts from a local craftsperson, one should note that if she tells you that this small, hand-woven basket is "Free", you shouldn't stuff it in your purse and walk off with it. It's a stale joke attempted by every tourist that ever walked down a cruise-ship ramp and they don't find it funny anymore.
At Mirandas, The sign on the wall advertises Kubuli in it's original slogan that I have grown to love. It says "Kubuli- The Beer we DRINK!"- Again, the accent in the wrong place. If Kubuli is the beer we DRINK, I wonder what we do with other beers on the Island, wash our hair with them?
They've since created a new slogan, incorporating the brewery's full name "Waitu (pronounced Why-Too)Kubuli". The new slogan reads "Waitu Kubuli- because one is not enough." This is significantly more clever than the original one, which leads me to believe it wasn't developed by anyone local, but rather, formed on a complaint from a tourist over the size of their green bottles. They're practically child size, which is probably not a mistake. Drinking ages and speed limits are two things the local government feels Dominicans can safely do without. Regardless, I prefer the old slogan, it tells you more about the local mind set, and exhibits a good amount of pride, were the accent placed more properly.
Since there are so few amenities on Dominca that have the prevalence of Kubuli , it would be safe to say it's one item that needs no advertising at all. It's everywhere, and quite inexpensive.

Another sign on Miranda's wall serves as a menu for more of what one might call the "local delicacies". One glance, and you're reminded that you're standing in a third-world country where the phrase "Let nothing go to waste" takes on a whole new meaning. I stared at this handpainted sign, wondering who got the parts of the bull or pig that aren't mentioned, and if maybe I'd find what's missing in one of her advertised sandwiches, or floating in this mysterious "Broth".
I will not go into any detail about the ingredients in "Black Pudding", I don't want to write it, just as much as you don't want to read it.
All in all, I consider Dominica my adopted country, though I may be slumming it a bit.
Before I got my passport, I considered Canada as mine. It was easy being so close to where I grew up, a beer run to Ontario was common in my college days, being that Molsen Golden was half the cost of Budweiser, and had significantly more alchoholic content. They speak French in much of Canada, so that makes it exotic, and those that speak English I can make fun of for their accents to obtain my familiar attitude of American superiority. At the end of a Canadian weekend, I can often be heard say ing that I "Can't Wait to get OOT of here!".
Dominica is different though. My relationship with this Island was tough going at first, but once I surrendered to the heat, humidity, the overwhelming clouds of body odor wafting out of crowded buses, and the complete and total abscence of anything resembling customer service, I began to appreciate Dominica and it's inhabitants for their finer points.
The remarkably simple lifestyles, the small town neighborly feeling, and of course, the nature.
Dense rainforets, an abundance of exotic birds, plants and flowers, and beautiful view of the Caribbean sea from every glance west is enough to soften even the hardest critic.
I made a decision on that winding road to Melville hall that if my life in Los Angeles collapsed, if Bang left me, or I lost the lease to my house, I would choose to remain in Dominica indefinately.
The hardest part of my trips to the Island used to be the 24 hours of travelling in getting there. Now, I find, after 5 full years, that the hardest part of this journey is not in the language barrier, the odors or in the cuisine. It's in the leaving.

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Ron's Garden flowers.


Me, in Dominica, 2003

July 30th, 2004

My Last Day in Dominica, and I feel guilty.
I'm waiting for michael to come collect me in the new truck World Wide bought for him to cart the girls around. (Damn he loves that thing!)
Typically I stay 30 days, from the middle of July until August. I asked Ron for a reprieve, I've been away from home since Fourth-of-July weekend, and My Family reunion is August 1st, and blah blah blah . .
He said "Go, do what you gotta do, but your coming back in September!"
"Agreed" I said, and we shook on it.

CFO-ED-Nice guy!
Yesterday Ed (the company CFO) and I took a day to visit the atlantic side of the Island and did some body surfing. All the beaches are black sand because of the volcanic activity.
We took his dog Luna, and generally had a great, realxing day. Ed is good company, and I enjoy hanging with him.

I'll be back at the San Juan Hotel tonight, and then I fly into JFK, and arrive in Syracuse at midnight, where Pecia (My Dear Sister)will be there to pick me up.I'll have a hell of a schedule when I touch down, but I'm looking forward to being busy, the week will goa LOT faster that way, and I do miss home, very much.

One last note- DAMN! I Love my life!!

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Michael behind the wheel of his Pride and Joy! He says it's a real chick-magnet!


Pecia and i took a roadtrip in '02, Click HERE to see the road journal.
July 28th. 2004

Workin' workin' workin'
It rained most of the day today, so I didn't feel bad to learn that Ed and I were not going to do any body surfing with the dogs today. Oh well, Ron put a lot on my plate this week anyway, so I don't care. I'm just glad I like what I do.
I'm in a bit of a quandry tonight.
I checked the stats on my blog(the thing you are reading right now) and it seems I got some great referrels form a site called thedreaming.com
I can find no reference to Hell's Basement from there to save my life. Oh well . . .

Worked my butt flat over the last two days developing flash banners and headers and stuff. Ron is requesting sexy updates to his websites, with as close-to-obscene-as-you-can-get graphics. Says it brings in more customers.
The fun part is the learning curve, thank GOD for that.
I have the Caribbean sea right over my left shoulder, so a 12 hour day doesn't seem like much, I still feel like I'm on vacation. Here's a link to some of the new animations I'm producing in Flash- HERE.

I talked with Bang at length last night, and again today via Instant messenger, and I've come to a few conclusions, the greatest of which being that I need to get home as soon as possible. The poor guy has been going it alone since the first week of July, virtually, and he deserves better than this, besides, I miss him so much..
He home with Rusty and Mickey and the three of them are sticking it out until I get home.My plan is to fly to L.A. from Syracuse as of July 8th (One week from this Sunday)
So before I know it, I'm on the countdown! 10 days to L.A.!

I return to Carthage over the weekend to attend the Family Reunion, then I have ONE WEEK to complete the sign project I started for Michelle and Raymond, before I fly away. I have to schedule the sand blasting fo the sign, as well as the gold leafing.
I probably won't be able to even see the sign completed before I go Back to Los Angeles.
Michelle and I talked about having a local guy (Herb) install the sign in the ground before winter months make the earth too hard to break.
MY God I am working a lot this month. Virtually FULL TIME- And I Still have the most comprehensive blog of the year, Whassup wi' Dta??

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The Walsemann Chiro Clinic
Gets a New Sign this Month!


One of the new banners I built, filling Ron's request for
"More T&A"
July 26th, 2004

Dead Web
Last night Ron treated me, and several other office people, to dinner at The Fort, Dominicas original armory. We all told stories of how we Met Ron, what brought us to the Island, and the little mishaps that occurred along the way.
Ron asked me to tell the story of how I met Jesus in Martinique, and I took great pleasure in telling the story of five days stuck in San Juan, only to spend a night in a tent on Martinique with a kind Spaniard named "Jesus", before eventually finding my way to Dominica.
Then I told the story of my trip to Orando last spring, and my experience in the men's room of the Miami airport during my brief layover. (Read about it in the April blog- see "talk to me")

Ed (the office CFO) and I rode on the back of the truck on the journey home, standing up facing front, hanging onto the roll bar, with the warm Caribbean air in our faces, and a beautiful half moon in the sky over our heads. It's my favorite way to travel in Dominica, because it's fun, legal, and reminds you of what "ALIVE" means. It's awsome. Now I understand why dogs insist on sticking their heads out the window, it's a natural high.

The world wide web is unavailable to those of us on the Island today. Ron had given me a list of things he'd like me to do, and I typically use the web to gather my images, but today I am rendered impedant. The "pipe" as they call it, a connection to the www via Antigua, has somehow become broken. Perhaps a fishing boat trolling the bottom snagged a cable, or a virus has infected the servers on our neighbors Island, but for the most part, the only internet we have today is MSN messenger, and any and all websites within the boundries of dominica.

Occasionally the line will open up, and I have a minute or two to quickly look up images on google of poker chips or horse racing, but before I can load a second page, the whole thing stops, and I get the error message that the server cannot be found, or a connection has been lost.
I'm sure it will be up again soon, too many businesses on this island rely on the web to make their money. Get enough of them together and I'm sure they can form the hideous, and angry mob that is so oftern needed to get thing done on this island. Customer service has long been a concept foreign to Dominicans, from hot-dog vendors to bank presidents, no one seems to understand the concept of "The Customer comes first".

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July 25th, 2004

Life on the Rock
We arrived back in Dominica yesterday afternoon, and I was pleased to see the air conditioner in my room is working. Last year my room was a muggy and smelly place that not even the house dogs would visit.

It's been raining off and on and I managed to sneak out and get a few good snaps of the place before another cloud opened up.
For some pics of the house and grounds, click HERE,

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My sweet girl Nina.
July 24th, 2004

Hate me now?
 San Juan Puerto Rico is beautiful, highly cultured and as humid as the inside of a dogs mouth.
Ron, Pam and I met up at the American Airlines luggage carousel and then stepped outside to hail a cab. My glasses immediately fogged up, and with the problems I have had with my eyes in the past, I simply assumed I had gone blind.
Whenever I've stayed in San Juan, it was always the Condado plaza Hotel and Casino I chose as lodging. Ron always gave me an option to stay at the El San Juan , but I never took it for fear it would be less than the exotic digs I've become accustomed to.
I was pleasantly surprised to see the El San Juan was an exotic old historic building, massive in it's size, and probably the most beautiful building I have ever stayed in.
The lobby was lined, floor to ceiling, with exotic hard wood, rich Spanish carvings of sea shells, palm trees and horse heads. Some walls were lined to the 12th foot level with pink and green marble, and every light fixture was crystal.
After dinner, where our 64 year old waiter was the most attentive and professional man I have ever seen, Ron and I headed to the casino, where he gave me a personal tutorial in the finer rules of the craps table, while his wife Pam visited with the Slot machines. His technique was simple, and precise, and yielded him a 300% return on his original investment of $1000 within an hour. "It's really Easy" he told me, sipping Sambuca from a sifter. The dealer was placing $100 chips in front of him after nearly every throw of the dice, "The only catch is you have to bet big to start. You lose big, but you win bigger."
By then end of the evening I understood the game perfectly, and was so drunk on liquor I had no hope of retaining any of it.
Watching Ron laugh, play his game and enjoy his wealth was such a thrill for me. I never laid any money down, but the entire evening was as exciting as if I was the high roller myself.
In the morning we met in the lobby for checkout, where Ron collected the front page of the N.Y. Times, faxed to him as a complimentary gift from the hotel, and with throbbing heads we began our long day of traveling to St.Lucia and eventually, to Dominica.

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My Room at the El San Juan



A view of the Hotel from the beach.


A sign of a classy Hotel,
a phone in the crapper
July 22th, 2004

Jet Blog
JFK architecture is easy to miss, especially when you're travelling.Here is a shot of the jetBlue terminal ceiling, the room is a huge circle of gates, and the ceiling looks like a massive concrete wheel. I looked up to take this image and I found other people in the terminal still staring at it a half hour after I snapped the photo.
Jet blue also has free wifi and newly installed electric outlets marked for laptops only. JetBlue may not be the first airline to be laptop friendly, but at the JFK terminal they certainly are the most comprehensive.

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Not all airlines are like jetblue,
but they should be
First sign of rain, and I'm outta here!

A 42-year-old man faces charges Wednesday after he allegedly masturbated in front of about 100 people in Daytona Beach, Fla., according to a Local 6 News report. Police said they observed Kenneth R. Lawson, of Destin, Fla., fondling himself from a balcony at the Adams Mark Hotel as a crowd watched below. Lawson faces lewd and lascivious charges over the incident.
He is the weeks leader in the "What the Hell were you Thinking!?" contest.

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Umbrella Salesman Makes Friends
July 22nd

Holy Peeling Window Tint!
Crowds are flocking to a hardware store in Rio Grande Valley, Texas, to see an image of Jesus that has appeared on a tinted window at the business. The image first appeared on a True Value store window on July 19 and caused employees to wonder where it came from. Since being discovered, the image has not faded.
People at the store agree that the image resembles the face of Jesus Christ with a crown of thorns. Apparantly looking into some carpentry tools? (I'm gooing to burn for that one!)

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July 22th, 2004

Scar tissue
Anthony Keidis' new biography Scar Tissue is now available on Amazon, and reviews for it came out in USA Today this morning.
I'm looking forward to reading this book when I get home.
Click here to read an exerpt from the book.


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July 22th, 2004

Daze Inn again
On the road once more, this time a dawn flight to San Juan Puerto Rico to meet up with the boss and fly with him and his wife to Dominica Via St. Lucia.
To you it sounds like Island Hopping, to me it sounds like the greyhound bus of the sky's dragging me over the caribbean sea for 24 hours.
I'm not complaining, the job has it's share of cush, but the hard part is the travelling, being that all flights out are at daybreak or earlier, and all arriving flights are after reasonable hours. I leave here at 6 a.m., I arrive in Syracuse again on the 31st at midnight.
In the meantime I'm staying at this very nice, if not obscenely mediocre, room at the Daze Inn.
If the lady in the room next to me with the growling stomach is not the type that can only doze with her TV on, I might actually get some sleep tonight. I put in a wake-up call for 4 a.m.- HARSH!

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Just makes you want to stay an extra week, just to take advantage of that cute little coffee maker, huh?
July 19th, 2004

The not-so-well incident
 On Saturday morning it was raining, and as I hauled my pathetic body to the bathroom to do my business, I noticed something strange; there was no water in the toilet.
I peeked my head out the backdoor to the shed and I could here the pump running, and then realized it had been running all night- the pump had a clog.

I went into the other house to tell my Dad of the problem, but I should have just handled it myself. Clogged pump lines are remarkably easy to clean, and had I known how difficult it would be to get my Father to agree to let me run some water through the lines, I would have waited until he left for the post office and never told him.
To read the Whole story, click HERE

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July 12, 2004

My Family in Crisis
I feel strange writing about this, wondering if this kind of sharing is appropriate for a blog, but I am alone right now, and looking for some outlet to process the news I got this morning.
I may choose to take this dispatch down later, I'm not right in my head right now.
My cousin's oldest daughter was shot and killed this morning in her home in Watertown.

MC was very close to me, and my parents(her Godparents) and had an espcially tight bond with my Mom, whom she called Rufie-Mommie. Right now as I type this, my family is in a state of confusion and extreme shock, while we wait news as to what actually happened and why.
MC had two children, and one, 5 years old, was there at the time it happened.
This is all so horrible, I hardly know what to think of it. Nothing like this has ever happened in our community, let alone in our family, and it's tragic, so tragic

When I came home to the River, I missed my family gathering by one week, and MC was here. She was proud to be able to show off her Baby girl, and was happy to be in the company of our circle again. She's been a fond member of our circle since she was a little baby, and she called me "Bubba" before she knew how to say "tommy".
MC came out to California a few yeaars ago and stayed with me in L.A., she felt safe with me, so she said,. and My sister told me that last week she was looking forward to seeing her "Bubba", and I feel terrible for not making a better effort to get to her.
MC's Mom is surrounded by her sisters and parents, and I just got a call from that house requesting I come, and bring Mom. It's going to be a long week.

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My Dad loved playing Santa Every year for his kids, grandkids, and especially for MC
July 11, 2004

Who are you and where is my Milk Money?
I never really felt comfortable in high school. Like 99% of all other students in between 14 and 18, I felt at odds with my generation and never quite seemed to fit in.
I didn't have a girlfriend, or boyfriend. I took my Sister to the prom, and after graduation day, did my best to get the hell outta Dodge City, and try to see how long I could go without ever having to see any of these people again.
The class of 1984 celebrated it's 20 year High School Reunion with a blast at the local bar, and I went and saw these people for the first time in two decades.
I was nervous, really nervous, but My mother was available to make me feel better. Like the Oracle in The Matrix she predicted my evening for me, that I would have fun to spite myself, and then told me that the men would be heavy, and so would the women, and I'd see less hair and more glasses than before.
She was right. She said if I had fun with the adults of my generation, or If I went back in time and relived some long forgotten hurt, it would be a decision I would actively make myself.
She was right about that too.

Only the real hard-core assholes refused to talk to me, just like in high school, all the rest were polite and friendly seniors out for a nice night of dancing to the oldies, and pinching some wrinkled butt. I was stunned and depresssed to be around all these people who looked old to me, and in reality, were the only folks I had ever known my own age. I had a great time to spite myself, just as the Oracle had predicted.
One particular assmate (Debbie, and no that's not a typo) refused to even acknowledge I was in the room with her. She never liked me and in High school never missed an opportunity to call me a deuche bag to my face. On this night she was behaving like we were still in 1984, and she was still the reigning queen of the tortured popularity club, forced to mingle with the riff-raff.
I figured she might try to maintain her iron-bitch stance up to the bitter end, so I cornerd her and wished her well. She couldn't look in my face, and when I touched her arm she gave a small whimper and a visible recoil. I think she threw up in her mouth.
I stood there in awe until I realized that she would either have to spit or swallow if I was going to get a "Hello" out of her so I slowly meandered away, as tears flooded her eyes.
It was then that I realized that I was going to have more fun than I thought possible, and without distracting myself from my own good time, made it a point to steer myself in her general direction from time to time, she countered by moving away, trying to keep a consistent 4 foot distance from me whiched forced her into a continuous migration from the bar, to the dining room and back again. This went on all night, and I encouraged other former geeks to follow suite. Debbie found herself repeatedly needing to apologize to whomever she was chatting with, and quickly exit whichever zone she was occupying at the time for something more comfortable. I don't know who she spent the evening talking to, she hated everybody equally, but she eventually was forced to settle in the Ladies room until her husband came to escort her home, mumbling and shaking, with the smell of bile on her breath.

I was terribly saddened to see one of my old friends, Fred Brady, was among those we had lost since graduation. All their photos were lined up in memory on a table at the entrance, and my heart was heavy for a while. I saw Fred for a while last time I was home 2 years ago, and it was shortly after that he ended his own life for reasons that arent quite clear to me.
Becky Z. Laughs Hysterically as Marcie L. tells of her glory days, stuffing bad-boys faces into cold, wet snowbanks.
Marcy Lynch informed me that in grade school I was her bully, and that she was far less than pleased to see me at this gathering.
I truly didn't remember being the aggressive heckler she said I was, but when she started recounting a moment in the late 70's when she buried my head in a snowbank for she'd "had enough of that smart mouth" it all came back to me. Cold, Surprised, and Blindingly White.
I begged her pardon, and she saw fit to forgive me.
We celebrated with a beer before My date (Again, My Sister Michelle) and I headed home at 1:30 a.m.

The Oracle woke me at 9a.m., she wanted to hear how the evening went. I told her it was fun, and that I'm looking forward to our 40th reunion in 2024.

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Who are these people?
July 11, 2004

Down By The River . . . .

Well, Here I am back on the Black River in Northern New York, and boy is it beautiful.

Some people call it a trailer, but when it's a place you occasionally visit in the summer months, you call it "camp", that way there's no stigma attached to the fact that it came from a lot with wheels on it.

Personally, I don't care, because this river is lovely and charming. Being right next to the water is a treat no matter what your shelter is.
My Parents live in the building next door and I have this place all to myself. I can go over and get a beer, eat a meal, and come back to the quiet peaceful space with no worries. It's the perfect arrangement.

The river is so beautiful, and I cant take my eyes from it. I moved my computer out onto the screened porche for the duration beacuse the breeze is so lovely. I have my Kayak to take out on the water anytime I like, and the fire pit is available for nightly sing-alongs or quite chats.
No this is not a resort, it's my hometown, and sometimes I NEED to get back here and recharge the old batteries.

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My beautiful Kayak



My Back Yard
July 5, 2004

Late for the sky
It's been another full and fruitful day in Northern California, but alas, it is time for me to go home again. Poor Ed was suffering his back issues pretty bad today, and I saw the familiar muscle-spasm twist on him, as I used to see it on myself. I can tell he's in a great deal of pain today and my heart goes out to him.
I gave him what little advice I had as far as relief goes, ice intermittently with heat, and to stay off it . Kelly and I accompanied him to his Chiro's office this afternoon and sat patiently in the lobby flipping through old copies of "US" magazine while we waited for him to be adjusted.
He came out feeling a little better, but not much.
Yesterday we spent the afternoon at Jenn and Patrick's house with Brian and Bart and a few of the wedding party entourage. Jenn and Patrick hosted the wedding, and turned out a great barbeque for us before we hauled up to a very high hill at the end of the road to watch the fireworks. From this remote vantage spot, at the end of a very steep 15% grade, we mingled with the mosquitos on a blanket at the top and watched the fireworks over sea world, a good 10 miles away. We "Oohed" and Ahhhh'd" and I couldn't help feeling a little familiar nostalgia for family gatherings in spots like this, a few fourths of July ago.
I made a few new friends that evening, and Jenn, Doug or Roman, if you're reading this, it was so nice to dance with you guys to Olivia Newton John last night. I had a lot of fun.
Let's do this again sometime. In Xanadu!

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Borrowed Soles
I took the shoes and the sunglasses back to Macy's and encountered some unexptected friction.
I walked up to the counter in the shoe department and handed the salesman my two boxes with the footwear I had purchased only 2 days before.
"Was there something wrong with these sandals?" He asked, lifting them from the box with two extended fingers. "Not really . . ." I mumbled abscent mindedly, fishing in my wallet for the other receipts I needed to get my bank card credited.
"But . . ." he went on "These shoes have been worn."
I distinctly remember asking him what the return policy was on these before I bought them, and he said nothing about "try not to wear them". I would have remembered that.
I looked up at him and immediately felt a light film of cold sweat appearing on my forehead. In my minds eye I pictured two heavy security guards in uniform tackling me to the designer carpet and putting handcuffs on me. I wonder if a peson can be charged with consumer fraud by pretending to buy something.
I stared at him blankly and managed a muffled " . . oh . . .? . . "
I suppose I could have done a better job of cleaning them up before I put them back in the box. I didn't even bother looking at them and as far as I know they could have had a wad of toilet paper stuck to one sole.
He shoved the sandals back in the box and silently continued his process of crediting my card. He was clearly not happy that I took advantage of his store polcy to look good at a wedding. I did my best to appear unapologetic, but my guuilt-ridden catholic upbringing was putting me through a morale knothole. It was a tough job talking the voices in my head into understanding that we were not going to be purchasing these fine sandals at this time, and please be quiet and let the angry saleman complete this credit.
"Don't back Down!" I hissed to myself through my teeth, and bit the inside of my lip until the transaction was over and I was free to leave.
Kelly told me I should have given him some good reason to return them, " Like they fit too tightly on one foot, or a inseam had rubbed my toe raw", she reminded dme that any flaw inhe shoe that could cause infection would speeedy the transaction with a smile."Nobody wants to get sued over a blister" she said, and I suppose she's right. I've got to learn to be more like Kelly, and to do better at thinking on my feet.
I learned my lesson with the shoe deparftment, and played a more dramatic role when I returned the sunglasses counter to play the game again.
Meandering over to the optical department I prayed the original sales lady, whom I chatted up for 30 minutes about how great I looked in them, was dead or on break.
I was in luck for she was reported missing, so I handed my recent Ralph Lauren glasses to a pimply faced lanky boy in a tie, and told him they were a gift that "Didn't go over well".
Frank, as his name tag promptly displayed, credited my card with metalic-clad smile and wished me to have a nice day. I scurried out of the store unscathed.
I don't suppose I can show my face in the shoe department of Macy's San Rafael again, but that's o.k., there will be other weddings, with other Macy's nearby.
I feel I have an obligation to earn some fag points and hoan this craft to an art, and besides, I need a new suit for my high school reunion. Macy's sells suits, don't they?

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July 4, 2004

Happy Fourth of July
It's officially one week today that I had my happy roadside vomit-o-thon with Jay with no sign of back pain what-so-ever since. I think I'm healed- Praise Cheeses!

Kelly Ed and I are staying at Santa Rosa's Flamingo Hotel and Resort. The place is really nice, with a series of small two-story buildings in a circle around the pool, connected by a collonade. Live entertainment and drinks at poolside, life is good today.
I'm writing this from a plastic lounge chair in the shade, hungover and tired while screaming kids donning inflatable water wings hold their noses and fling themselves into the deep end.
Brian and Bart's wedding was yesterday, and like Kelly said, it was a great excuse to have an awsome party. We were there drinking and dancing until four in the morning, and today I am paying for it. It was a fantastic bash, with the standard array of sorted characters, drama queens, drunken weepers and naughty behaviors behind closed bushes. There were an inordinate number of gay guys talking about Los Angeles, and how they are in "the Business", dropping names and pretending to be above it all. It was a pretentious-fest, really. I snickered to myself and went into the kitchen to talk with the caterers.
We had milk and cookies at midnight, strange really, but it fit into the theme of "Breaking with Tradition". It wasn't said out loud, but there was an active attempt to create a different union party, without looking too hetero-oriented. Precedents were attempted, it was a fun fair.
I was pleased to find that I was, in faact, completly in compliance with the Gay Wedding Uniform code of dress. I wore a nice designer button down short sleeve shirt over khakis with dress sandals, and about 4 other fags showed up in similar thread, so i was in good company. I think I'm getting a handle on this Clothing-fashion thing.
Thanks God for Macy's!
I decided that I'm going to get my ministers license, so the next time a friend of mine get's married, I might be able do the honors. I say that for two reasons, firstly, I wasn't impressed with the woman who presided over the event, her ceremony was underwhelming. Secondly, not one bit of it was about me. I don't want to take a chance on that happening again.
Weddings can be so boring unless you figure out some way to make it about yourself, instead of the two people up there that are actually getting hitched.
If I was the minister, everyone would have to listen to me for a while, I'd play a big role in a couple's history and plus I get to sit at the big kids table during the reception.
I'm already shopping for shirts that look nice with a white collar.

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July 2, 2004

Macy's Lends Out Merchandise!
I walked over to Macy's to find some shoes, and while I was there I asked about their return policy. Seems if you keep the receipts, you can bring ANYTHING back!
That's like trading cash for goods. You buy what you need, use them for a few days, then returning the goods and get the cash back, no questions asked.
I took advantage of this concept with 2 pairs of new shoes, and a very expensive pair of Ralph Lauren Sunglasses.
I am not going to this wedding under dressed, and all of this stuff is going back on Monday.
It's rent-fashion! I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner!

Frequent Flyer Gripes
This morning I woke up on an inflated air mattress in San Rafael, Ca.
I went naked into the hottub last night with a nice glass of my Holistic Muscle Relaxer made from Grapes. This one was a chardonnay.
In the car here yesterday, Ed was mentioning how he likes to have a glass of wine every night, and I told him that was almost the same for me, and by the way, it's 9:30 and I'm behind schedule.
He had one shining, golden, chilled and in my hand before He and Kelly left for their previously scheduled program, and left me alone to rattle around in their beautiful NoCa home, sipping, soaking and hacking away at their local version of a crossword puzzle.

The air here is so fresh you can smell the leaves on the trees without a ladder. I went for a walk this morning and passed a house where apples were hanging from branches over the fence, practically handing the fruit to me. I picked one and had it for breakfast while I chatted with Bang on my cell phone. I know that the fact that this apple was not commercially produced made it by nature "organic", and in the specialty food store we pay more for this. The sense of it didn't sink in to me here when I had a bruise and a few worm holes to eat around, and it was considerably smaller than the Fuji's Bang and I like from Trader Joes. I ate it though, and tossed the leftover bruisy and worm into the Cypress bushes across the street. The whole experience made me feel closer to nature, like reading my "Outside" magazine.
I ran back to the house to quickly record the whole experience on my laptop.

The flight out here yesterday was brief, but not brief enough.
I don't understand what it is with airlines, why they can use modern technology to create a plane that flies farther, faster with less fuel(New New Boeing 757) but they can't channel any of that technology into a tastey pot of coffee, or a flotation device that doubles as a comfortable seat.
Good God people, if your going to force your cash cows to sit in one chair for hours and hours of flight from coast to coast, buckled in for their own safety, at LEAST give their asses a fighting chance of withstanding the trip! A fighting chance is all I ask, really.
I honestly believe that if #19c was more like a lazy boy and less like an oak church pew with a golfball cushion, we'd stop seeing the mad rush to stand up when the fasten seat belt light goes off. Imagine a world where the "ping" we hear at the end of the flight is replaced by a gentle voice saying "Wake up and get off the plane now please!" or, 'Thanks for flying, it is o.k. to collect your things and go now!"
Just a thought.

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Kellie and Ed (Kellianed)
in their house in San Rafael
(pronounced San Ra-Fell)
July 1, 2004

Which Shoe are you?
I'm leaving today for the gay wedding of two friends in Glenn Ellen Ca. These two are so far ahead of the curve, I have no idea what to expect.
An accomplished, world wide event planner and his psychologist boyfriend were the last two in San Francisco to get a marriage license before the door slammed shut last spring, and this wedding is going to be something the likes of which have never been seen before.
I suppose I would get more respect from readers if I kept my personal concerns to myself, but I'm a little worried about looking right. I have no idea what the well dressed fag-wedding attendee friend is wearing these days, there is no "dress to impress at the queer nuptuals" handbook.
Should I go with "Respectable Business fag", or "White-party happy"?
Brian is light, fun, and Bart is serious and professional.
Imagine a loafer and a flip flop in love, it's hard to figure out which shoe box to put them in, especially when You, the guest, are neither white-party happy or serious professional. I'm more of a hiking boot with pink laces
I'm worried about the kind of humiliation reserved for the office dork who didn't get the memo that "dress-like-a-chicken day" was cancelled.

O.k., I know what your saying, "Just be yourself", and that to me is the catch 22. If I EVER thought being myself was appropriate I'd be watching the wedding in my underwear through the windshield of my RV. I'm constantly in battle with my inner Homer Simpson.
Oh well, I'll take what I have as far as clothes go, and let Kelly dress me, and there's always time to go shoppping if nothing I have works.
If the bride is available, he could always lend some words of advice, and go shopping with me. That was what Brian and I did the most before he met Bart- shopping!

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