Thursday, June 12, 2008
What Gays Have Been Reduced To
Holy shit! You've gotta read this. A gem of an excerpt I recently ran across on Craigslist:
YOUR AVERAGE GAY MAN - 30 (Seattle)
Reply to: pers-718157208@craigslist.org
Date: 1969-12-31, 4:33PM PST
I'm your average gay man. I'm emotionally shut down, but have an uncanny ability to have empty, casual sex whenever the mood strikes. I'm self absorbed and judgemental, but deep down, like most of you, I'm very insecure. I lack emotional maturity and assume the role of victim in life.
In addition to being checked out, I also like to play head games. I expect you to guess what I'm thinking and how I'm feeling most of the time. If you guess incorrectly, I'll get upset and become withdrawn. When that happens, I'll need your unending devotion. I'm a bit needy.
Otherwise, I'm entirely physically attractive and always present myself very well. You can think of me as somewhat of a wolf in sheep's clothing. I promise the sex will be killer because that's about all I'm good at. Well, aside from being aloof and passive aggressive. Sure, it'd be easier just to be direct and up front, but where's the drama in that?
Don't worry, if I suddenly lose interest in you, I'll just sever all ties and you'll never hear from me again.
Any takers?
Location: Seattle
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Hmmm ... well that pretty much about sums up every guy I've dated over the past couple years. Whoever wrote that is a genius!
OK, I'll admit it. I wrote it and posted it to Craigslist as somewhat of a joke and some what of a way to express my disdain for dating. I actually received responses. None was more creepy than this fugly fifty something guy who thought I sounded really interesting. OMFG.
YOUR AVERAGE GAY MAN - 30 (Seattle)
Reply to: pers-718157208@craigslist.org
Date: 1969-12-31, 4:33PM PST
I'm your average gay man. I'm emotionally shut down, but have an uncanny ability to have empty, casual sex whenever the mood strikes. I'm self absorbed and judgemental, but deep down, like most of you, I'm very insecure. I lack emotional maturity and assume the role of victim in life.
In addition to being checked out, I also like to play head games. I expect you to guess what I'm thinking and how I'm feeling most of the time. If you guess incorrectly, I'll get upset and become withdrawn. When that happens, I'll need your unending devotion. I'm a bit needy.
Otherwise, I'm entirely physically attractive and always present myself very well. You can think of me as somewhat of a wolf in sheep's clothing. I promise the sex will be killer because that's about all I'm good at. Well, aside from being aloof and passive aggressive. Sure, it'd be easier just to be direct and up front, but where's the drama in that?
Don't worry, if I suddenly lose interest in you, I'll just sever all ties and you'll never hear from me again.
Any takers?
Location: Seattle
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Hmmm ... well that pretty much about sums up every guy I've dated over the past couple years. Whoever wrote that is a genius!
OK, I'll admit it. I wrote it and posted it to Craigslist as somewhat of a joke and some what of a way to express my disdain for dating. I actually received responses. None was more creepy than this fugly fifty something guy who thought I sounded really interesting. OMFG.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Seattle: Colder than Siberia
Colder than Siberia? Must be a reference to my last couple break ups. Joking aside, Seattle is generally known for being soggy, not frigid. Though I once saw it snow in the Cascade foothills around North Bend in June back in the early '90s.Truth be told, Seattlites are never satisfied with their weather. It's either too wet, too cold or too hot. We're not even talking extreme weather and a place where as soon as temps hit 60, people are walking around in shorts and short sleeve shirts. Seattleites are just a bunch of whiney pussies.
Well, if global warming is really occurring, it's sure not yet making a stop on its world tour here in Seattle.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Bliss (Mutluluk)
My buddy Scotty and I went to go see "It's Hard to be Nice" at the Seattle International Film Festival last night. However, we were instead destined to see a substitute screening of "Bliss." Apparently the film we originally intended to see was stuck in customs.
There are definitely no accidents in life. Bliss was an amazing independent foreign film out of Turkey. It reminded me quite a bit of White White Black Stork, the play I saw a couple months ago, performed at ACT by a talented Uzbekistani theatre group. The connection between this film and that play I saw had to do with strict cultural traditions that condemn people for their very human mistakes.
In Bliss, the main character was condemned for a sinful act that wasn't even her fault. She was raped, and was SO horrified by what had happened to her, she was unable to verbally recount the crime. Her village as well as her own family condemned her for something that was clearly out of her control. This survivor of rape had no rights, no voice and no recourse except to repent for a sin that didn't even belong to her. She was expected to pray for forgiveness and then end her own life by hanging herself. Thankfully she couldn't go through with it.
Miraculously, a relative took her away to the big city of Istanbul. Still within the same national boarders, the city offered a little more forgiveness than her small, archaic rural village. The twist was that her rescuer was also intent on assassinating her.
This poignant film explores the disconnect between extreme fundamenalist religion and issues in contemporary society. Bliss, based on a novel, was an outstanding film with high production values, depth and soul. This film was dark and light, sorrowful and joyful; a cinematic buffet of emotion and feeling. Definitely a masterful movie that inspires one to appreciate freedom of expression, something many of us spoiled rotten Americans commonly take for granted.
There are definitely no accidents in life. Bliss was an amazing independent foreign film out of Turkey. It reminded me quite a bit of White White Black Stork, the play I saw a couple months ago, performed at ACT by a talented Uzbekistani theatre group. The connection between this film and that play I saw had to do with strict cultural traditions that condemn people for their very human mistakes.
In Bliss, the main character was condemned for a sinful act that wasn't even her fault. She was raped, and was SO horrified by what had happened to her, she was unable to verbally recount the crime. Her village as well as her own family condemned her for something that was clearly out of her control. This survivor of rape had no rights, no voice and no recourse except to repent for a sin that didn't even belong to her. She was expected to pray for forgiveness and then end her own life by hanging herself. Thankfully she couldn't go through with it.
Miraculously, a relative took her away to the big city of Istanbul. Still within the same national boarders, the city offered a little more forgiveness than her small, archaic rural village. The twist was that her rescuer was also intent on assassinating her.
This poignant film explores the disconnect between extreme fundamenalist religion and issues in contemporary society. Bliss, based on a novel, was an outstanding film with high production values, depth and soul. This film was dark and light, sorrowful and joyful; a cinematic buffet of emotion and feeling. Definitely a masterful movie that inspires one to appreciate freedom of expression, something many of us spoiled rotten Americans commonly take for granted.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Doughnuts & Ghosts
Where do I find myself on a perfectly gorgeous late spring evening in Seattle? An intense hour of yoga followed by camping out at a beautiful, park side cafe a few blocks from my Capitol Hill bachelor pad with a hearty thirst for some comforting chamomile tea and the written word.Not sure whether it's the cloudy weather, but I've been struggling with self motivation professionally as well as creatively in recent days. Though lately I've been leaning more toward having some gusto for the creative, so at least something gives.
Today is the first Friday in June, which also marks National Doughnut Day. Really. According to sources I found online, this day honors the women who served doughnuts to soldiers on the front lines of World War I. Apparently the very name for this beloved American edible was derived from the men of the armed services as these fried morsels were often cooked up in their helmets. The American troops of that era were referred to as "doughboys." Clearly the name stuck as well as this sweet treat. Though where does the "nut" in doughnut come from? Perhaps back in the day they thought it was nuts to be frying up dough in the trenches under the shower of enemy shells and small arms fire.
My dearest Snow and I observed this day by meeting up in the mid afternoon at Top Pot Doughnuts on Fifth Avenue in Belltown to enjoy a hot beverage, one of their artfully tasty, doughy treats and friendly conversation. Though admittedly I don't believe either of us were fully aware of the real significance this alleged holiday marks when we cemented our plans to meet. Oh well.
I told Snow of my recent dating woes, specifically about the wookie, who I really liked. However, over the past week or so he has taken a turn toward inexplicable insecurity. I'm not quite sure where this started coming from. Snow believes he really likes me and is just afraid of getting hurt, so he's acting out of fear. Hmmm, that sounds all too familiar. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's exactly what drove him, my catalyst for leaving my seven year relationship, to employ the "push me pull you" bit, which eventually disintegrated one of the greatest loves I've ever known in my life. I'm certainly not venturing down that road again.
Last night, aboard friends' boat, the Red Herring, on Seattle's Lake Union, my dear friend Bay Bay informed me he had had a run in with him last Saturday night. Bay Bay and his partner were just exiting one of Capitol Hill's few remaining gay watering holes when they ran into him out on the sidewalk. He approached them both in a very excited manner, exclaiming their names and giving them both big hugs, as though they were dear old friends who had at long last been reunited. He says to Bay Bay, "I sense that you're holding back." To which Bay Bay replied, "You're very intuitive." I'm also told he looked like a big, drunken mess.
Just the weekend before, another one of my friends ran into him, out at the bars (perhaps the bars have become more than just a mere pass time for him). At first I was told my name didn't come up in conversation, and then later that he had referred to me by my full first name, something he once did to express endearment.
Both Snow and Bay Bay believe he's communicating with me through my friends, and this feels safe for him. All I know, as Snow also observed, he seems to keep popping up, especially as of late. Perhaps it's coincidence. Seattle is still a pretty small town. Maybe, just maybe, we'll come full circle someday soon.
I'm still in the same place I was the last couple times I wrote about this topic, wanting only to make peace with him and that which suddenly tore our love apart, which was seemingly too short lived. Despite knowing I deserve so much more from a lover than what he became incapable of, traces of him still linger on my mind and in my heart.
Snow opined that he's afraid to face me because I am the one person who knows and can see all his weaknesses. She asked me what I would do if by chance he were to actually come around and want to make a genuine go of it. I hate to admit it, but this is a question I asked myself as recently as this morning. Would I be willing to take another chance? Would I be willing to take the ultimate risk for what may or may not be? I'm not sure. What I do know is when things unraveled with him, part of me died inside. It took me months and months to rebound from that. Nearly a year and a half later, I'm still not the same person with respect to how I live and love. Though that might have changed regardless. Who's to say. Doh! I must be nuts for even having these notions. Or perhaps better yet I may just be human.
With every passing day I fall deeper into myself, hopefully getting that much closer to being more like the person I always knew myself to be. I wear these romantic wounds and their subsequent scars like a badge of honor. Just like fashion, love is for the brave. Love is truly the only thing in life worth fighting for. What else would humankind have to live for? What else is there beyond our hearts' greatest desires?!
Snow also reminded me of another love of romance past, my ex of seven years. Snow's hubby ran into him several weeks (if not months) ago while out on patrol. My ex readily confessed that he missed the way things used to be; missed our home, our dearly departed dog and me ... I miss him and much of our old lives too, but he left me long before I physically left him. Apparently my friend Scotty also ran into him just this past Sunday. The first thing he told Scotty was about the fact we broke up as though it had just happened yesterday and not nearly two years ago.
Sometimes I too long for the good ol' days, when life was more comforting, more predictable. Then again, it's the journey and surprises one finds along one's path that maintains a youthful spirit and a profound appreciation for life's many gifts as well as one's achievements.
After I left the busy cafe, I took an evening stroll down Broadway. It was a mostly clear night with a sliver of moon similing at me from high above. The air smelled fresh and clean after a day of showers intermittently rolled over the city. I noticed a certain calmness to Seattle tonight, which kept me at ease as well as feeling a strong sense of home.
Now that I am back home and in for the evening, I'm going to crawl into my nicely made bed with freshly washed linens. Then I'm going to pull the covers up over me, shut my eyes and allow myself to dream of all the wonderful things to come ...
Good night.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Erection Killers
I've met a few guys in recent weeks who actually don't annoy me and who I actually like as well as find attractive. Well initially anyway. It's funny how one can go from having all kinds of items on their romantic interest wish list, to just hoping the people one meets won't be annoying fucks. OK, that's kind of taking things to the extreme, but you get my point.
In relation to the four men I've been actively dating over the past couple months or so, I recently let two go becuase they just didn't know how to listen. I know they're not deaf.
Despite fair warning, both faux deaf guys began applying an obsene amount of pressure in the early "getting to know you" stages. In fact, we'll call him faux deaf guy number two who bought me a ticket to a family outting on the Duck Tour. OK, anyone who knows me knows I despise that fugly white barge on wheels, which turns Seattlites going about their everyday lives into zoo exhibits. But it wasn't the activity so much as it was him pressing me to meet his family, barely more than a month into us seeing one another, after clearly letting him know I wasn't comfortable with this. I think most people would feel similarly. Too much too soon.
When faux deaf guy number two finally admitted to me he doesn't drive was also part of the tipping point. Duplicity equals b'bye. We broke up in email, which was oddly pleasant. Actually, I think faux deaf guy number one and I broke up in email as well. How very nonconfrontationally Seattle. Gotta love this isolated little passive aggressive Northwestern oasis of ours.
So now I'm left with the prickly pear and the wookie. A little fur is sexy, but too much makes manscaping a must. As for shaving body hair, please do so only if you're a competitive swimmer or cyclist. Being with a guy who shaves his body is like sleeping next to a cactus. I like being poked, but in the more conventional sense of the slang use of this word.
Then there was the "cocky" guy I met for the first time Tuesday night. Horrible self esteem party of one, your table is ready in the losers section. Good luck with all that. Please don't let me know how it turns out. Poor chump bastard. When in doubt, act gentlemanly. Why do so many guys think they'll get somewhere by acting like total douche bags?
The one common theme I've noticed is that most of these men expect something to develop despite not putting the effort into it. I don't mean elaborate nights out on the town at five star restaurants sipping 100 point wines, though I wouldn't be opposed to that either. No, I mean basic effort, like being able to simply hold and carry on an engaging, intelligent conversation. A little friendliness and humor can go a long way. Really. Yeah, it's that simple.
Speaking of conversations, the wookie critiqued my conversational style the other night. His idea of me rudely interruputing him was when I attempted to further engage him in his own topic of conversation by asking deeper questions. What an asshole. Five words: like it or leave it. Better yet, two words (brevity is king): fuck off.
What inspired this post? Foremost, these jokers who call themselves men. Secondly, a conversation with none other than my dearest Grace earlier today. She had a date last night with a guy who claims to never date.
Their first date was supposed to be late last week. He texted in the late afternoon the day of the tentative date to firm it up. She, like I would certainly have done, had already made other plans. Sorry, no man is worth waiting around for. If any man can prove me wrong about this, I will literally eat my own words on the heaviest weight paper stock with an "I told you so" chaser.
Last night Grace finally got together with this guy for a first date. They dined at a little Neapolitan joint in The City and then ended up back at her place. They shared a kiss on her chaise with no real sparks. A while later he tells her he doesn't really date and then said, "Will you go out with me?" To which Grace replied, "We just went out."
Of course I couldn't resist the opportunity to get some more mileage out of this one, so I emailed her the following:
Yes or No
I like you. Will you go with me?
Are you kidding me?! Even high school was a bit too mature for the use of the aforementioned phrase. I have the utmost confidence in Darwin's theory since so many "men" are living proof that man evolved from apes.
A good man is hard to find and a hard man might be all I'm up for right now ...
In relation to the four men I've been actively dating over the past couple months or so, I recently let two go becuase they just didn't know how to listen. I know they're not deaf.
Despite fair warning, both faux deaf guys began applying an obsene amount of pressure in the early "getting to know you" stages. In fact, we'll call him faux deaf guy number two who bought me a ticket to a family outting on the Duck Tour. OK, anyone who knows me knows I despise that fugly white barge on wheels, which turns Seattlites going about their everyday lives into zoo exhibits. But it wasn't the activity so much as it was him pressing me to meet his family, barely more than a month into us seeing one another, after clearly letting him know I wasn't comfortable with this. I think most people would feel similarly. Too much too soon.
When faux deaf guy number two finally admitted to me he doesn't drive was also part of the tipping point. Duplicity equals b'bye. We broke up in email, which was oddly pleasant. Actually, I think faux deaf guy number one and I broke up in email as well. How very nonconfrontationally Seattle. Gotta love this isolated little passive aggressive Northwestern oasis of ours.
So now I'm left with the prickly pear and the wookie. A little fur is sexy, but too much makes manscaping a must. As for shaving body hair, please do so only if you're a competitive swimmer or cyclist. Being with a guy who shaves his body is like sleeping next to a cactus. I like being poked, but in the more conventional sense of the slang use of this word.
Then there was the "cocky" guy I met for the first time Tuesday night. Horrible self esteem party of one, your table is ready in the losers section. Good luck with all that. Please don't let me know how it turns out. Poor chump bastard. When in doubt, act gentlemanly. Why do so many guys think they'll get somewhere by acting like total douche bags?
The one common theme I've noticed is that most of these men expect something to develop despite not putting the effort into it. I don't mean elaborate nights out on the town at five star restaurants sipping 100 point wines, though I wouldn't be opposed to that either. No, I mean basic effort, like being able to simply hold and carry on an engaging, intelligent conversation. A little friendliness and humor can go a long way. Really. Yeah, it's that simple.
Speaking of conversations, the wookie critiqued my conversational style the other night. His idea of me rudely interruputing him was when I attempted to further engage him in his own topic of conversation by asking deeper questions. What an asshole. Five words: like it or leave it. Better yet, two words (brevity is king): fuck off.
What inspired this post? Foremost, these jokers who call themselves men. Secondly, a conversation with none other than my dearest Grace earlier today. She had a date last night with a guy who claims to never date.
Their first date was supposed to be late last week. He texted in the late afternoon the day of the tentative date to firm it up. She, like I would certainly have done, had already made other plans. Sorry, no man is worth waiting around for. If any man can prove me wrong about this, I will literally eat my own words on the heaviest weight paper stock with an "I told you so" chaser.
Last night Grace finally got together with this guy for a first date. They dined at a little Neapolitan joint in The City and then ended up back at her place. They shared a kiss on her chaise with no real sparks. A while later he tells her he doesn't really date and then said, "Will you go out with me?" To which Grace replied, "We just went out."
Of course I couldn't resist the opportunity to get some more mileage out of this one, so I emailed her the following:
Yes or No
I like you. Will you go with me?
Are you kidding me?! Even high school was a bit too mature for the use of the aforementioned phrase. I have the utmost confidence in Darwin's theory since so many "men" are living proof that man evolved from apes.
A good man is hard to find and a hard man might be all I'm up for right now ...
Thursday, May 15, 2008
San Francisco to Coeur d'Alene
May has so far brought with it some travel to two places I most enjoy in the Western U.S., San Francisco and Coeur d'Alene.
Both Grace, one of my BFFs, and San Francisco treated me divinely. She picked me up the evening of May 1, which was definitely a good day to leave Seattle with all the labor protests and what have you. We went directly to her favorite Russian Hill watering hole, Bar Johnny, a newer swanky lounge and restaurant. The interior was designed by the deliciously talented Swallowtail, which also has a phenomenal retail presence on Polk Street, which is the place to be if you're a trendy thirty something breeder in The City.
We enjoyed a couple cocktails, actually make that three since the bartender bought our third round. The chef brought us out a fresh summer salad to sample, a new dish he had been working on. The dressing was delicious as were the field greens, cucumbers, grated carrots, strawberries and pistaccios. We advised him to cool it on the red onions, and my biggest note to him was to use endive vs. field greens. Not only did he agree, but that was his initial thought as they would have paired best with the fresh strawberries. The only problem was that he uses only fresh, locally-grown, organic ingredients whenever possible (a growing trend among top culinary talent). Unfortunately endive isn't yet in season. Heck, what do I know?
Anyway, the following day, Friday, included a trip to the Boulangerie and Pete's coffee (Grace's favorite morning beverage). Afterward we readied ourselves for somewhat of a reunion lunch with a couple of my close college comrades, Jay and Alice, at a place Jay recommended in the Mission called Spork. Wasn't too sure what to expect. After all, it is the Mission and Spork has all kinds of grade school cafeteria connotations. I was very pleasantly surprised how modern, chic, delicious and inexpensive this place was. They are well known for their perfect hamburger. Jay, also a blogger, has had 17 of them to date and his goal is 25 before he moves to Brazil this summer. I had the carnitas, and I haven't had 'em that good since Mexico. Of course they had a bit of a neuvo Americana twist to them, which made them that much more delicious. Jay also introduced me to an outstanding beer called St. Peter's out of England. That was a real treat.
After an enjoyable visit with my ol' pals, it was off to Nordstrom to return Grace's Sunday best and find her the right dress for her Goddaughter's Christening. This is an event that also coincided with somewhat of a reunion for Grace, coming face-to-face with her most recent ex, who is also her Goddaughter's uncle, who she hasn't seen since she left him in NYC at the very tail end of last year. Both the aforementioned events were the underlying purpose for my San Francisco trip, though I don't need much of a reason to visit The City and one of my very best of friends.
We arrived at Nordstrom with the ensemble a sale woman had helped Grace select. It looked more cocktailesque, and the waistline on the jacket fell just below her breasts. It wasn't the go-to dress, so we needed to rectify this, stat. We roamed the floor for about a half hour with iced coffees in hand. We picked out a few dresses that looked much more appropriate. Of course the same sales woman was there as well as a bit nervous that she didn't find exactly the right ensemble to send Grace off to the Christening in. It was new, and nice, but it didn't flatter her in the slightest.
The sales woman asked us what would be more appropriate. We explained the nature of the event and I specifically requested slightly more earthy garments. Meanwhile Grace went off to powder her nose and the sales woman came back with a smattering of dresses. The first was a horrible knit sweater dress with diamond shaped fields of fading browns. I quickly turned up my nose at it. The next several looked like they came from the women's department at a sporting goods store. I told the woman we were going to a Christening, not crocodile hunting. The very last dress was this smouldering Hugo Boss number. Dark, smokey gray and chocolate brown color. It seemed to have cut lines in all the right places. We threw it in the mix, and might I say Grace looked amazing when she stepped out in it. It was pricey but perfect.
Before we left, the sales woman asked what I was getting out of the dress hunt, whether it be lunch or cocktails. I told her it was just for the pure satisfaction that my dearest friend was going to look and feel her very best.
Friday night in The City held a very special experience for me. After we returned to Grace's Russian Hill flat, we uncorked some bubbly and had a light nibble. Afterward we headed over to Peter's. He's a friend of Grace's friends, and on a weekly basis they have a dinner party at his incredible apartment, the most fabulous I have ever seen in The City.
On our way, two of the other dinner party guests flagged us down from Bar Johnny's. We joined them for one before dinner drink and then cabbed it several blocks over to Peter's. His building was out of a novel set in old New York. Huge, beautiful old world brick building with a marble foyer. The elevators were very deco, featuring a sliding cage door that had to be closed before the lift would move.
Peter's place was out of this world! He lives in a palatial two bedroom apartment with formal entry, dining room, living room, butler's pantry, etc. The mill work was unreal; insanely ornate and absolutely pristine. Best of all he has a stunning view of the city as well as the bay and Golden Gate Bridge.
Upon arrival we were offered some more bubbly as well as some very well grown reefer. While Peter and Grace prepped dinner in the kitchen, the other two gals and I sat in the living room and chatted while taking in the most beautiful red sun sinking into the ocean behind the Golden Gate Bridge. The scene was completely surreal. I almost pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. And if I were, I didn't ever want to wake up!
Dinner was, of course, amazing. Peter is a skilled chef. That night he was celebrating the signing of a lease for a restaurant space on Fifth and Market adjacent to Union Square.
The next morning we picked up coffee and Grace's softball gal pal. They had a double header in Marin County. I spectated, and what sights there were to see. The men in their league, which is composed mostly of Bay Area marketing and advertising execs, were scorching hot! As was the weather that day North of The City. I had on completely the wrong attire, so Grace snagged me one of the team's T-Shirts. Their team is called Four Play. The logo on the back was purposely intended to resemble the K-Y brand with the following tag line: "Slide into home."
After the games we found ourselves sunbathing on the waterfront patio at Sam's in Tiburon. This is one of mine and Grace's favorite spots. It's the place to see and be seen. My oh my was there a lot to look at. Mmmm ...
Unfortunately someone fed me a couple of tequila shots, and it was all downhill from there. Grace dragged my ass back to The City where we spent a pleasant night in watching old Strangers With Candy episodes that I brought with me on DVD. We grabbed a late night slice or two and then hit the hay.
The following morning we arrived to help dress baby Orlaith Mae for her Christening, armed with fresh baked pastries along with a refreshing, summer salad (one of my favorites) and a very special crostini I brought with me from Pike Place that we slathered with Beecher's blank slate honey cheese and topped with a tangy strawberry rhubarb jam. Of course we would be remiss if we didn't also furnish a nice bottle of white for this afternoon's reception. What can we say other than we're big fans of fine food and wine.
Grace's ex, we'll call him Moron since he's a big one for ever letting her get away, was a complete douche bag to me the first part of the day. Then I just sort of tuned him out. Clearly he was pissed off that I was there to support his lovely ex, making him appear more like the asshole he is. Bygones.
The Christening was held at the beautifully historic Mission Dolores, the oldest cathedral in San Francisco, founded in 1776. I could barely hear the priest over the hordes of rowdy rug rats running a muck, climbing over seats and horsing around in the aisle. I sound like an old curmudgeon, but I was a bit shocked parents would allow their children to act up during a religious ceremony.
After our day of ritual, gathering and celebration, Grace treated me to an early evening at El Rio. On Sunday nights it's where all the gays go to salsa dance on an outdoor patio to the saucy beats of a live salsa band. It was very festive and nice to have an ice cold refreshing beer or three to take the edge off of having to put our best feet forward all day long.
The following weekend was a complete juxtaposition to San Francisco. I drove my 92 year old grandmother and my aunt to see my mom in Coeur d'Alene for Mother's Day. After only two days I was completely exhausted. My dear grandmother is barely able to get around much on her own. She also gets very confused and requires a lot of extra attention. She's fussy about everything.
It's very challenging to see those we love deteriorate. The lady I remember as my grandmother always wore a smile on her face, was always laughing and joyful. She is also very wise, always advising me that "only time will tell." She is the one person in my life who has always loved and accepted me for exactly who I am. She has always been my greatest ally, wanting nothing more than my every happiness. Sadly, while I know deep in her heart of hearts she's still there, most of her has become something else, preparing for her life's departure and it's next journey through the cosmos.
Coeur d'Alene is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I looked so forward to and savored my lakeside morning runs in solitude. The dark green hills around the lake were still white capped from an above average winter of snowfall. A mountain crisp chill in the air concurred that spring had not fully awaken from it's long winter slumber. The lake was glassy still and the town also seemed motionless yet peaceful.
I would be remiss if I didn't observe the juxtaposition between the celebration of new life as well as the observation of those who gave life and those who are nearing the end of it; all over two weekends at vastly different places in the American West. From the hustle of bustling San Francisco to the quaint, natural charm of little Coeur d'Alene.
The pendulum of life does swing back and forth. Life has a certain melody. To hear it, one must pause on occasion to experience the blank space between the notes. Life also has a poetic harmony, one that may take an entire lifetime to be in tune with ...
Both Grace, one of my BFFs, and San Francisco treated me divinely. She picked me up the evening of May 1, which was definitely a good day to leave Seattle with all the labor protests and what have you. We went directly to her favorite Russian Hill watering hole, Bar Johnny, a newer swanky lounge and restaurant. The interior was designed by the deliciously talented Swallowtail, which also has a phenomenal retail presence on Polk Street, which is the place to be if you're a trendy thirty something breeder in The City.
We enjoyed a couple cocktails, actually make that three since the bartender bought our third round. The chef brought us out a fresh summer salad to sample, a new dish he had been working on. The dressing was delicious as were the field greens, cucumbers, grated carrots, strawberries and pistaccios. We advised him to cool it on the red onions, and my biggest note to him was to use endive vs. field greens. Not only did he agree, but that was his initial thought as they would have paired best with the fresh strawberries. The only problem was that he uses only fresh, locally-grown, organic ingredients whenever possible (a growing trend among top culinary talent). Unfortunately endive isn't yet in season. Heck, what do I know?
Anyway, the following day, Friday, included a trip to the Boulangerie and Pete's coffee (Grace's favorite morning beverage). Afterward we readied ourselves for somewhat of a reunion lunch with a couple of my close college comrades, Jay and Alice, at a place Jay recommended in the Mission called Spork. Wasn't too sure what to expect. After all, it is the Mission and Spork has all kinds of grade school cafeteria connotations. I was very pleasantly surprised how modern, chic, delicious and inexpensive this place was. They are well known for their perfect hamburger. Jay, also a blogger, has had 17 of them to date and his goal is 25 before he moves to Brazil this summer. I had the carnitas, and I haven't had 'em that good since Mexico. Of course they had a bit of a neuvo Americana twist to them, which made them that much more delicious. Jay also introduced me to an outstanding beer called St. Peter's out of England. That was a real treat.
After an enjoyable visit with my ol' pals, it was off to Nordstrom to return Grace's Sunday best and find her the right dress for her Goddaughter's Christening. This is an event that also coincided with somewhat of a reunion for Grace, coming face-to-face with her most recent ex, who is also her Goddaughter's uncle, who she hasn't seen since she left him in NYC at the very tail end of last year. Both the aforementioned events were the underlying purpose for my San Francisco trip, though I don't need much of a reason to visit The City and one of my very best of friends.
We arrived at Nordstrom with the ensemble a sale woman had helped Grace select. It looked more cocktailesque, and the waistline on the jacket fell just below her breasts. It wasn't the go-to dress, so we needed to rectify this, stat. We roamed the floor for about a half hour with iced coffees in hand. We picked out a few dresses that looked much more appropriate. Of course the same sales woman was there as well as a bit nervous that she didn't find exactly the right ensemble to send Grace off to the Christening in. It was new, and nice, but it didn't flatter her in the slightest.
The sales woman asked us what would be more appropriate. We explained the nature of the event and I specifically requested slightly more earthy garments. Meanwhile Grace went off to powder her nose and the sales woman came back with a smattering of dresses. The first was a horrible knit sweater dress with diamond shaped fields of fading browns. I quickly turned up my nose at it. The next several looked like they came from the women's department at a sporting goods store. I told the woman we were going to a Christening, not crocodile hunting. The very last dress was this smouldering Hugo Boss number. Dark, smokey gray and chocolate brown color. It seemed to have cut lines in all the right places. We threw it in the mix, and might I say Grace looked amazing when she stepped out in it. It was pricey but perfect.
Before we left, the sales woman asked what I was getting out of the dress hunt, whether it be lunch or cocktails. I told her it was just for the pure satisfaction that my dearest friend was going to look and feel her very best.
Friday night in The City held a very special experience for me. After we returned to Grace's Russian Hill flat, we uncorked some bubbly and had a light nibble. Afterward we headed over to Peter's. He's a friend of Grace's friends, and on a weekly basis they have a dinner party at his incredible apartment, the most fabulous I have ever seen in The City.
On our way, two of the other dinner party guests flagged us down from Bar Johnny's. We joined them for one before dinner drink and then cabbed it several blocks over to Peter's. His building was out of a novel set in old New York. Huge, beautiful old world brick building with a marble foyer. The elevators were very deco, featuring a sliding cage door that had to be closed before the lift would move.
Peter's place was out of this world! He lives in a palatial two bedroom apartment with formal entry, dining room, living room, butler's pantry, etc. The mill work was unreal; insanely ornate and absolutely pristine. Best of all he has a stunning view of the city as well as the bay and Golden Gate Bridge.
Upon arrival we were offered some more bubbly as well as some very well grown reefer. While Peter and Grace prepped dinner in the kitchen, the other two gals and I sat in the living room and chatted while taking in the most beautiful red sun sinking into the ocean behind the Golden Gate Bridge. The scene was completely surreal. I almost pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. And if I were, I didn't ever want to wake up!
Dinner was, of course, amazing. Peter is a skilled chef. That night he was celebrating the signing of a lease for a restaurant space on Fifth and Market adjacent to Union Square.
The next morning we picked up coffee and Grace's softball gal pal. They had a double header in Marin County. I spectated, and what sights there were to see. The men in their league, which is composed mostly of Bay Area marketing and advertising execs, were scorching hot! As was the weather that day North of The City. I had on completely the wrong attire, so Grace snagged me one of the team's T-Shirts. Their team is called Four Play. The logo on the back was purposely intended to resemble the K-Y brand with the following tag line: "Slide into home."
After the games we found ourselves sunbathing on the waterfront patio at Sam's in Tiburon. This is one of mine and Grace's favorite spots. It's the place to see and be seen. My oh my was there a lot to look at. Mmmm ...
Unfortunately someone fed me a couple of tequila shots, and it was all downhill from there. Grace dragged my ass back to The City where we spent a pleasant night in watching old Strangers With Candy episodes that I brought with me on DVD. We grabbed a late night slice or two and then hit the hay.
The following morning we arrived to help dress baby Orlaith Mae for her Christening, armed with fresh baked pastries along with a refreshing, summer salad (one of my favorites) and a very special crostini I brought with me from Pike Place that we slathered with Beecher's blank slate honey cheese and topped with a tangy strawberry rhubarb jam. Of course we would be remiss if we didn't also furnish a nice bottle of white for this afternoon's reception. What can we say other than we're big fans of fine food and wine.
Grace's ex, we'll call him Moron since he's a big one for ever letting her get away, was a complete douche bag to me the first part of the day. Then I just sort of tuned him out. Clearly he was pissed off that I was there to support his lovely ex, making him appear more like the asshole he is. Bygones.
The Christening was held at the beautifully historic Mission Dolores, the oldest cathedral in San Francisco, founded in 1776. I could barely hear the priest over the hordes of rowdy rug rats running a muck, climbing over seats and horsing around in the aisle. I sound like an old curmudgeon, but I was a bit shocked parents would allow their children to act up during a religious ceremony.
After our day of ritual, gathering and celebration, Grace treated me to an early evening at El Rio. On Sunday nights it's where all the gays go to salsa dance on an outdoor patio to the saucy beats of a live salsa band. It was very festive and nice to have an ice cold refreshing beer or three to take the edge off of having to put our best feet forward all day long.
The following weekend was a complete juxtaposition to San Francisco. I drove my 92 year old grandmother and my aunt to see my mom in Coeur d'Alene for Mother's Day. After only two days I was completely exhausted. My dear grandmother is barely able to get around much on her own. She also gets very confused and requires a lot of extra attention. She's fussy about everything.
It's very challenging to see those we love deteriorate. The lady I remember as my grandmother always wore a smile on her face, was always laughing and joyful. She is also very wise, always advising me that "only time will tell." She is the one person in my life who has always loved and accepted me for exactly who I am. She has always been my greatest ally, wanting nothing more than my every happiness. Sadly, while I know deep in her heart of hearts she's still there, most of her has become something else, preparing for her life's departure and it's next journey through the cosmos.
Coeur d'Alene is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I looked so forward to and savored my lakeside morning runs in solitude. The dark green hills around the lake were still white capped from an above average winter of snowfall. A mountain crisp chill in the air concurred that spring had not fully awaken from it's long winter slumber. The lake was glassy still and the town also seemed motionless yet peaceful.
I would be remiss if I didn't observe the juxtaposition between the celebration of new life as well as the observation of those who gave life and those who are nearing the end of it; all over two weekends at vastly different places in the American West. From the hustle of bustling San Francisco to the quaint, natural charm of little Coeur d'Alene.
The pendulum of life does swing back and forth. Life has a certain melody. To hear it, one must pause on occasion to experience the blank space between the notes. Life also has a poetic harmony, one that may take an entire lifetime to be in tune with ...
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Nice Sprinter We're Having ...
Apparently Snoqualmie Pass was closed today for avalanche blasting. The DOT extended its winter road maintenance service in the mountain passes to May 19, which is more than a month beyond the typical end date. Emerging from winter, very warm weather is expected in May. It's almost like we've jumped directly from winter into summer.
Global climate change? Who's really to say. We haven't been recording weather patterns for a long enough history to know for certain whether our weather is dramatically changing because of humankind's activities or if this is part of a standard "cooling of the earth" cycle that happens every some odd millennium. It is definitely apparent that our weather is vastly different than it was say 30 years ago ...
Global climate change? Who's really to say. We haven't been recording weather patterns for a long enough history to know for certain whether our weather is dramatically changing because of humankind's activities or if this is part of a standard "cooling of the earth" cycle that happens every some odd millennium. It is definitely apparent that our weather is vastly different than it was say 30 years ago ...
Sunday, April 27, 2008
The Gong Show
By the end of the evening I kind of felt like givin' the ol' gong to my pal Scotty. Gotta love the guy. He's witty, articulate, intelligent, handsome and kind hearted (well, for the most part). Admittedly we always seem to have fun, even if we're somewhere lame, like at that fat straight drunk mess over @ re-bar he took me to the other night.
Anyway, he picked me up this evening in his roomie's ride. Actually, he has been staying with the coolest breeder couple in Seward Park (one of my favorite in-city neighborhoods) in exchange for teaching the wife English lessons. She is absolutely gorgeous and delightful. Very stylish, beautiful accent (I can't quite distinguish it - sounds Latin of sorts). Scotty just relocated back to Seattle from Rio de Janeiro via Portland a few weeks ago.
We grabbed him a small bite at Piecora's on the Hill and then onto the Stranger's Gong Show @ Chop Suey immediately following. It was a mostly breeder, hipster crowd tonight, but a good crowd nonetheless. We were packed in like a full 12 incher, and the joint was equally hot. OK, you know I had to go there to be cliche because I'm gay, oh, and stoned ...
The show was a fucking riot. There are some REALLY strange people in this town, including the guy who can hoola (yeah - that's right, I said, HOOLA) while playing the harmonica and two guitars, both of which are vertically balanced on his face! WTF!!! Who wakes up in life and thinks to themselves, "Gee, I'm going to learn how to hoola hoop with two hoops, play a harmonica with a neck rest while also playing and balancing a guitar on my face."???
My favorite act, and I think the crowd's too, was this he-monster of a drag queen, dressed as Marry Poppins, who did a number to "Spoon Full of Sugar" as well as a HUGE faux line of blow toward the end of the song. OK, I'm too stoned to write about it with any poetic justice, but trust me, it was hysterical.
After the show Scotty, who handed his car key over to me, insisted we go to this party at his friends' place further up the Hill on 19th. I wasn't really into it. Like any other thirty something Seattleite, I hate new people. OK, that's not at all true, just being a punk ass tonight. Don't know what's gotten into me. Heh-heh ...
Nah, I wasn't feelin' this party because for one I'm not secure in my friendship with Scott. It's not that I don't know whether he likes me, actually quite the contrary. I know he's fairly fucking wild about me. Despite having established many boundaries, this guy is as persistent as a meth addiction. Oh, that was a very poor analogy, but I'm about to lose my next thought if I don't continue on with my story.
So we end up at this party, coming in through the back door. No, that's not code for anything - we walked up the side yard and entered one of the most fabulous, contemporary stone patio garden spaces I have ever seen in my life. The yard was by no means big. In fact, the home is just your average, modest early 1900s cottage. But this place was dressed to the nines! The yard was very geometrically rectangular, not just the shape of it, but also of many of the stone materials and how they were laid out. Gorgeous stone patio with ground cover growing up between the stones. There were a couple of terracing retainer walls built of small, thin horizontal interlace-stacked stones. Two large, gorgeous Japanese maples stood proud and were splashed in uplights. In the very corner of the garden adjacent to the small, rectangular back deck was a square pond and fountain, which also was illuminated. Don't even get me started on the house, I haven't got all night for this post.
The people at this party were my age-ish. They were fantastic! Beautiful. Fashionable. Engaging. Warm. Friendly. Fun. Phenomenal. Several of these fine folks are good friends of Scotty's, so my resistance in going had more to do with not wanting to give the impression of being his "date," etc.
Well, despite better judgement, Scotty continued drinking. Incidentally I'd been drinking mineral water all night. Hey, I had a very sporty day and why ruin it by boozin' it up. Besides I need at least one sober night a week. Aren't I such the kidder.
Leave it to Scotty to drop a whole double gin and tonic on the original fir floors of this uber chic urban cottage. It's one thing to be a guest and spill, and I know he felt really bad/awkward about it, but he didn't even bother to help clean it up. I enlisted my services on bend and knee (don't go gettin' any funny ideas) to mop up the mess to near dry. Of course while on the floor doing clean up duty, it appeared as though I was the one who made the mess. I had just met all of these folks this evening. The artists, designers, advertising moguls, linguists, musicians - an impressive group, and I don't necessarily mean by pedigree. What a lousy first impression. I was pretty embarrassed, no more so, however, than when I engaged for a good 20 minutes in a conversation with Scotty and his roomie's brother about Bazooka, yeah, the bubble gum. That was classic.
The notable conversation I had was with a gentleman who was telling me about a recent conversation he had with a Bellevue High School teenage girl, who informed him that a girl has to shave her privates and kiss other girls to attract a boyfriend in this day and age. Boys and men are all alike; complete pigs! My how times have changed ...
The party peace de resistance (sp?) were Scott's uncontrollable hic-elches (hiccup belches). In fact, he wouldn't allow us to leave the party until he cured them. I sliced him off a big hunk of lime to eat. That always does the trick for me. It didn't work. He tried holding is breath. He tried drinking soda. He tried eating more. I told him this was likely his body's way of saying he should call it a night. He strongly disagreed. So I told him I needed to call it a night. He basically wouldn't let us leave the party until his hic-elches went away. It seemed like an eternity, but finally they subsided and after our third round of goodbyes we finally got to head toward my home.
Scotty insisted we go to the Cuff and then he wanted to go to the new Madonna CD release party @ Neighb-whores. I drove him in his borrowed car to the parking lot across the street from the Cuff, insisting he call a cab home. We'll see - he'll probably hook up w/someone so he won't have to drive home drunk. Lovely. On both counts. So I walked him to the end of the line, literally, hugged and kissed him farewell, then headed home to write this shit and fall asleep.
As you might have guessed the artists, designers, advertising moguls, linguists and musicians got me stoned. Actually, not at all true, marijuana did. I'm pleased to report it was really good shit! OK, this stoned-ass, postmodern urban fag has to gong himself. Thanks for coming out, you've been great. I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitress. G'nite ...
Anyway, he picked me up this evening in his roomie's ride. Actually, he has been staying with the coolest breeder couple in Seward Park (one of my favorite in-city neighborhoods) in exchange for teaching the wife English lessons. She is absolutely gorgeous and delightful. Very stylish, beautiful accent (I can't quite distinguish it - sounds Latin of sorts). Scotty just relocated back to Seattle from Rio de Janeiro via Portland a few weeks ago.
We grabbed him a small bite at Piecora's on the Hill and then onto the Stranger's Gong Show @ Chop Suey immediately following. It was a mostly breeder, hipster crowd tonight, but a good crowd nonetheless. We were packed in like a full 12 incher, and the joint was equally hot. OK, you know I had to go there to be cliche because I'm gay, oh, and stoned ...
The show was a fucking riot. There are some REALLY strange people in this town, including the guy who can hoola (yeah - that's right, I said, HOOLA) while playing the harmonica and two guitars, both of which are vertically balanced on his face! WTF!!! Who wakes up in life and thinks to themselves, "Gee, I'm going to learn how to hoola hoop with two hoops, play a harmonica with a neck rest while also playing and balancing a guitar on my face."???
My favorite act, and I think the crowd's too, was this he-monster of a drag queen, dressed as Marry Poppins, who did a number to "Spoon Full of Sugar" as well as a HUGE faux line of blow toward the end of the song. OK, I'm too stoned to write about it with any poetic justice, but trust me, it was hysterical.
After the show Scotty, who handed his car key over to me, insisted we go to this party at his friends' place further up the Hill on 19th. I wasn't really into it. Like any other thirty something Seattleite, I hate new people. OK, that's not at all true, just being a punk ass tonight. Don't know what's gotten into me. Heh-heh ...
Nah, I wasn't feelin' this party because for one I'm not secure in my friendship with Scott. It's not that I don't know whether he likes me, actually quite the contrary. I know he's fairly fucking wild about me. Despite having established many boundaries, this guy is as persistent as a meth addiction. Oh, that was a very poor analogy, but I'm about to lose my next thought if I don't continue on with my story.
So we end up at this party, coming in through the back door. No, that's not code for anything - we walked up the side yard and entered one of the most fabulous, contemporary stone patio garden spaces I have ever seen in my life. The yard was by no means big. In fact, the home is just your average, modest early 1900s cottage. But this place was dressed to the nines! The yard was very geometrically rectangular, not just the shape of it, but also of many of the stone materials and how they were laid out. Gorgeous stone patio with ground cover growing up between the stones. There were a couple of terracing retainer walls built of small, thin horizontal interlace-stacked stones. Two large, gorgeous Japanese maples stood proud and were splashed in uplights. In the very corner of the garden adjacent to the small, rectangular back deck was a square pond and fountain, which also was illuminated. Don't even get me started on the house, I haven't got all night for this post.
The people at this party were my age-ish. They were fantastic! Beautiful. Fashionable. Engaging. Warm. Friendly. Fun. Phenomenal. Several of these fine folks are good friends of Scotty's, so my resistance in going had more to do with not wanting to give the impression of being his "date," etc.
Well, despite better judgement, Scotty continued drinking. Incidentally I'd been drinking mineral water all night. Hey, I had a very sporty day and why ruin it by boozin' it up. Besides I need at least one sober night a week. Aren't I such the kidder.
Leave it to Scotty to drop a whole double gin and tonic on the original fir floors of this uber chic urban cottage. It's one thing to be a guest and spill, and I know he felt really bad/awkward about it, but he didn't even bother to help clean it up. I enlisted my services on bend and knee (don't go gettin' any funny ideas) to mop up the mess to near dry. Of course while on the floor doing clean up duty, it appeared as though I was the one who made the mess. I had just met all of these folks this evening. The artists, designers, advertising moguls, linguists, musicians - an impressive group, and I don't necessarily mean by pedigree. What a lousy first impression. I was pretty embarrassed, no more so, however, than when I engaged for a good 20 minutes in a conversation with Scotty and his roomie's brother about Bazooka, yeah, the bubble gum. That was classic.
The notable conversation I had was with a gentleman who was telling me about a recent conversation he had with a Bellevue High School teenage girl, who informed him that a girl has to shave her privates and kiss other girls to attract a boyfriend in this day and age. Boys and men are all alike; complete pigs! My how times have changed ...
The party peace de resistance (sp?) were Scott's uncontrollable hic-elches (hiccup belches). In fact, he wouldn't allow us to leave the party until he cured them. I sliced him off a big hunk of lime to eat. That always does the trick for me. It didn't work. He tried holding is breath. He tried drinking soda. He tried eating more. I told him this was likely his body's way of saying he should call it a night. He strongly disagreed. So I told him I needed to call it a night. He basically wouldn't let us leave the party until his hic-elches went away. It seemed like an eternity, but finally they subsided and after our third round of goodbyes we finally got to head toward my home.
Scotty insisted we go to the Cuff and then he wanted to go to the new Madonna CD release party @ Neighb-whores. I drove him in his borrowed car to the parking lot across the street from the Cuff, insisting he call a cab home. We'll see - he'll probably hook up w/someone so he won't have to drive home drunk. Lovely. On both counts. So I walked him to the end of the line, literally, hugged and kissed him farewell, then headed home to write this shit and fall asleep.
As you might have guessed the artists, designers, advertising moguls, linguists and musicians got me stoned. Actually, not at all true, marijuana did. I'm pleased to report it was really good shit! OK, this stoned-ass, postmodern urban fag has to gong himself. Thanks for coming out, you've been great. I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitress. G'nite ...
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Everyday is a New Adventure
I heard a great saying this evening: "Don't curse your bad luck until you're certain it's not good luck because it could be a blessing in disguise."
A beautiful older woman and culinary maven Diane recited these words at her incredible urban cooking school at the South end of the Post Alley. Diane has been a long time client and friend of my dear friend and Beacon Hill neighbor Mary, who runs Jonkheer, the best tulip stand at Pike Place Market. Mary was invited to bring a guest to tonight's class, so she invited me. What an honor!
We had six courses that were incredibly delicious with mostly all fresh, organic and locally grown ingredients. Our courses were paired with three different, local wines.
Diane, much like myself, lost a lot in her life about five years ago. To her, however, this turned out to be a blessing, an opportunity to create the life she always dreamed of. She was a delight and a complete inspiration, affirming my decision about a year and a half ago to join the journey of those on the road less traveled to personal fulfillment.
Reflecting back on the past few days, I've been living the dream. While I have been tending to work each day, I am loving what I do and therefore don't really ever work a day in my life. Not anymore. Additionally, I'm surrounded by so many incredible individuals who I am so privileged to share adventures with each day.
Friday night I went to an inde flick @ Varsity with my pal Scott. On our way into the theater, as we passed by the movie poster, the fellow walking behind us pointed to the poster and said, "There I am." He was one of the two stars of the film. He and his co-star stuck around for an audience Q&A after the show. While their film lacked soul and was mediocre, it was very engaging to discuss the filmmaking process (not all of which is creative). Scott fell asleep toward the end. It really wasn't that bad. We then sunk into another theater to catch the last five minutes of Phil Donahue's presentation after Body of War, the film he's promoting, ended.
We ventured back out into the bizarre late April snow and found ourselves @ Shanghai in the I.D. Phenominal Chinese food! I highly recommend the mushu pork. Mmmm ...
Post dinner we had a couple drinks @ the new Elite. I was still feeling a bit under the weather, so I'm not sure how great of company I was. Oh well ...
Saturday was pizza, movies and cookie baking at my dear friend Snow's home on Beacon Hill. We watched some Planet Earth and our feature flick, The Descent. OMG, what a totally freaky and disgusting film. I loved it!!!
Sunday I layed low, but yesterday I picked up Scott in Seward Park after a South end showing. We went to Ohana in Belltown, and behold they have happy hour all evening on Mondays! Happy-happy, joy-joy. After a fabulous dinner we ventured over to re-bar for Get Loweded, a variety show of sorts.
While the show stunk because it was created by and featured fat, retarded straight folk, I suppose it would be considered funny to most people once inebriated. They certainly handed out plenty of free booze, including these Dewar's and amaretto shots. They were delicious! Afterward we had a little post-funk Dick's.
Today began in West Seattle with a home inspection followed by lunch with my inspector, who is a good friend and a mild romantic interest. Today ended by taking some time to reflect on my days. I am grateful for today and all those I was fortunate enough to share it with ...
A beautiful older woman and culinary maven Diane recited these words at her incredible urban cooking school at the South end of the Post Alley. Diane has been a long time client and friend of my dear friend and Beacon Hill neighbor Mary, who runs Jonkheer, the best tulip stand at Pike Place Market. Mary was invited to bring a guest to tonight's class, so she invited me. What an honor!
We had six courses that were incredibly delicious with mostly all fresh, organic and locally grown ingredients. Our courses were paired with three different, local wines.
Diane, much like myself, lost a lot in her life about five years ago. To her, however, this turned out to be a blessing, an opportunity to create the life she always dreamed of. She was a delight and a complete inspiration, affirming my decision about a year and a half ago to join the journey of those on the road less traveled to personal fulfillment.
Reflecting back on the past few days, I've been living the dream. While I have been tending to work each day, I am loving what I do and therefore don't really ever work a day in my life. Not anymore. Additionally, I'm surrounded by so many incredible individuals who I am so privileged to share adventures with each day.
Friday night I went to an inde flick @ Varsity with my pal Scott. On our way into the theater, as we passed by the movie poster, the fellow walking behind us pointed to the poster and said, "There I am." He was one of the two stars of the film. He and his co-star stuck around for an audience Q&A after the show. While their film lacked soul and was mediocre, it was very engaging to discuss the filmmaking process (not all of which is creative). Scott fell asleep toward the end. It really wasn't that bad. We then sunk into another theater to catch the last five minutes of Phil Donahue's presentation after Body of War, the film he's promoting, ended.
We ventured back out into the bizarre late April snow and found ourselves @ Shanghai in the I.D. Phenominal Chinese food! I highly recommend the mushu pork. Mmmm ...
Post dinner we had a couple drinks @ the new Elite. I was still feeling a bit under the weather, so I'm not sure how great of company I was. Oh well ...
Saturday was pizza, movies and cookie baking at my dear friend Snow's home on Beacon Hill. We watched some Planet Earth and our feature flick, The Descent. OMG, what a totally freaky and disgusting film. I loved it!!!
Sunday I layed low, but yesterday I picked up Scott in Seward Park after a South end showing. We went to Ohana in Belltown, and behold they have happy hour all evening on Mondays! Happy-happy, joy-joy. After a fabulous dinner we ventured over to re-bar for Get Loweded, a variety show of sorts.
While the show stunk because it was created by and featured fat, retarded straight folk, I suppose it would be considered funny to most people once inebriated. They certainly handed out plenty of free booze, including these Dewar's and amaretto shots. They were delicious! Afterward we had a little post-funk Dick's.
Today began in West Seattle with a home inspection followed by lunch with my inspector, who is a good friend and a mild romantic interest. Today ended by taking some time to reflect on my days. I am grateful for today and all those I was fortunate enough to share it with ...
Quote of the Week!
"Your wife will let ya fucker her in the ass if you promise to take her to Disneyland. It always worked for me!" - a business partner
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
French Onion Soup, Anyone?
Feeling a touch under the weather today, and thought that French Onion Soup sounded appealing for my slightly ailed condition. Apparently there is a human who is uber passionate about this brew. Said individual has taken it upon himself to tour and taste French Onion Soup throughout the country. He's been to my neck of the woods several times, so I appreciate his descriptions. I'm going to Union Square Grill right now to try one of his top 10 recommendations ...
Here's his masterful soup blog: http://www.theonionsoup.com/
Enjoy!
Here's his masterful soup blog: http://www.theonionsoup.com/
Enjoy!
Monday, April 14, 2008
Follyful Weekend
What a follyful weekend. Managed to work some work in between play times. You know, that's really the way life should be lived.
Friday night featured a party at a friend's gorgeous old world condo on First Hill. OK, you know how it's not a party until something gets broken. Well, the partner of one of my closest friends broke a dining room chair. Not by thrashing it about like some belligerent rock star. Not with a chainsaw like some crazed stand-up comic. He was just sitting on it, and then suddenly the front of this antique piece splintered and ... well. Poor thing. Unfortunately it gets even worse for this guy, who confessed to me that he was already feeling a bit puffy that evening.
The following night we were at another friend's party at their fabulous, contemporary view home in Lincoln Park. Well, apparently my friend's partner got a wicked case of food poisoning and had a little accident. Allegedly the accident didn't actually happen at the party, but likely either in the car or upon arrival home. Apparently the renegade crap was very wrongly mistaken for a fart. The incident also involved some degree of vomiting. Oh, the horror! No wonder people turn into home bodies. Heck, I'd be traumatized ...
Saturday morning brought much excitement into my world in the form of an adorable new client. Unfortunately this particular client also came paired with a wife. Details, details ... She was sweet and kept saying "I-5" as if she were asking for a high five. They're from the Midwest.
We looked at inventory until just after midday. Who would've guessed we would've seen the first day of summer here in Seattle last weekend?! It was gorgeous - sunny blue skies and temps in the 70's if not nearing 80. Of course I took full advantage of it for an hour and a half in-line skate along Alki. Yes, it was hatefully crowded, but I do enjoy challenges, including human obstacle courses.
Then it was over to see friends on Beacon Hill with Slurpees in hand. They spiked theirs with rum, and I played with their feisty Chihuauah. Cruised home to the Hill for a disco nap, then off to the weekend's second party.
OK, I always assume most people have a sense of humor, which can sometimes get me into trouble. So when the Evite went out for this Saturday night bbq/party the weekend after my birthday, and the weekend before two of my other good friends' birthdays, I took the liberty of making mention of it on my Evite response. I also jokingly responded that I was bringing 48 other people. My two other birthday pals chimed in on the Evite as well, in jest of course, for example: "How nice of you to disguise our surprise birthdays by having a bbq." Apparently one of the hosts took our gags a bit too seriously and politely requested, via an email, that foremost I correct my response in terms of the actual number of guests I'm bringing. It gets better.
At the party, the hosts corraled the three of us birthday boys to the center of the party and made everyone sing happy birthday to us. They also bought us a beautiful cake, which was entirely delicious I might add. Either way, the three of us inadvertently gorilla birthdayed our friends bbq. I for one feel like a bit of an asshole, but that's alright. No bigger than the ass I made of myself being introduced to a single, pretty boy at the party. Well, that's another story I'm not quite ready to articulate at this time. I'm sure, thankfully, I'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow anyway.
While at the party, I got a call from a good friend who just relocated back to Seattle from Rio via Portland. Somewhat exotic. We met out at a pub and then ended up at the Cuff. OK, I had been completely and utterly sober before we met up. A few beers later, and I'm actually entertaining his advances. Well, it wasn't just the beer. The man knows how to use his hands. That's all I'm sayin' ... Actually, truth be told, nothing scandalous happened in the slightest.
We closed down the Cuff, practically, then sang an '80s cover duet on the sidewalk along 12th Avenue when a car full of girls pulled up with their windows down (it was a surprisingly warm evening), who cheered and egged us on. A bit embarrassing, but it was a hoot and we'll never see them again anyway. Though it is Seattle, so chances are we probably already knew all of them in some way.
Next stop was Tacos Gringos, which is pretty delicious around 2:00 a.m. We sat in the window ledge, ate our tacos and shared a Fanta. Then we ventured back to my place a couple blocks away and settled in with some Strangers With Candy. OK, one episode, but it's one of my favorites. He spent the night. We just cuddled. His body language suggested much more than cuddling, but I played it cool. Though he didn't even get to second base, I did make him a pancake a sausage breakfast, really. That's not code for anything I assure you. Of course he used that as an opportunity to say, "Finally you're going to offer me some sausage."
Thankfully my new clients called that morning, so I was obliged to reconnect with them. Sometimes it's a real drag when one night lingers into the next day, even if mostly platonic. So I enthusiastically met back up with the clients, and then with a couple good friends for Thai food in Fremont afterward.
After lunch, one of my pals suggested hitting up Vivace in South Lake Union, a location/neighborhood that has connections to not one, not two, not three but four of my ex something-or-others. Ironically, he requested we visit that location because his ex works at both of the Capitol Hill locations.
We walk into the joint and sure as shit there's his ex and his ex's current boyfriend at the counter right in front of us. Of course my friend pulled the loser maneuver and bolted back out the front door, as best he could in a boot with a cain. I know we're getting a bit older, but this ensemble of his is just plain ridiculous.
Before I'm able to take a sip of my coffee, I get a call from my adorable out-of-town clients. They want to make a play for some property. Great! So I draft the contract, meet and go over it with 'em and then submit their offer. Have a few moments to catch my breath before my next meeting, catching up with a dear friend over some wine at Martin's. Apparently it was pianoke night. Well, that's what I'd call it anyway. People doing karaoke to live piano. We really just met up there to sit next to the hurricane fireplace.
I know I'm forgetting a few details from the weekend. Restful it wasn't but do you think I'm ready for a nursing home? Some 20-somethings probably do, but what do they know ...
Friday night featured a party at a friend's gorgeous old world condo on First Hill. OK, you know how it's not a party until something gets broken. Well, the partner of one of my closest friends broke a dining room chair. Not by thrashing it about like some belligerent rock star. Not with a chainsaw like some crazed stand-up comic. He was just sitting on it, and then suddenly the front of this antique piece splintered and ... well. Poor thing. Unfortunately it gets even worse for this guy, who confessed to me that he was already feeling a bit puffy that evening.
The following night we were at another friend's party at their fabulous, contemporary view home in Lincoln Park. Well, apparently my friend's partner got a wicked case of food poisoning and had a little accident. Allegedly the accident didn't actually happen at the party, but likely either in the car or upon arrival home. Apparently the renegade crap was very wrongly mistaken for a fart. The incident also involved some degree of vomiting. Oh, the horror! No wonder people turn into home bodies. Heck, I'd be traumatized ...
Saturday morning brought much excitement into my world in the form of an adorable new client. Unfortunately this particular client also came paired with a wife. Details, details ... She was sweet and kept saying "I-5" as if she were asking for a high five. They're from the Midwest.
We looked at inventory until just after midday. Who would've guessed we would've seen the first day of summer here in Seattle last weekend?! It was gorgeous - sunny blue skies and temps in the 70's if not nearing 80. Of course I took full advantage of it for an hour and a half in-line skate along Alki. Yes, it was hatefully crowded, but I do enjoy challenges, including human obstacle courses.
Then it was over to see friends on Beacon Hill with Slurpees in hand. They spiked theirs with rum, and I played with their feisty Chihuauah. Cruised home to the Hill for a disco nap, then off to the weekend's second party.
OK, I always assume most people have a sense of humor, which can sometimes get me into trouble. So when the Evite went out for this Saturday night bbq/party the weekend after my birthday, and the weekend before two of my other good friends' birthdays, I took the liberty of making mention of it on my Evite response. I also jokingly responded that I was bringing 48 other people. My two other birthday pals chimed in on the Evite as well, in jest of course, for example: "How nice of you to disguise our surprise birthdays by having a bbq." Apparently one of the hosts took our gags a bit too seriously and politely requested, via an email, that foremost I correct my response in terms of the actual number of guests I'm bringing. It gets better.
At the party, the hosts corraled the three of us birthday boys to the center of the party and made everyone sing happy birthday to us. They also bought us a beautiful cake, which was entirely delicious I might add. Either way, the three of us inadvertently gorilla birthdayed our friends bbq. I for one feel like a bit of an asshole, but that's alright. No bigger than the ass I made of myself being introduced to a single, pretty boy at the party. Well, that's another story I'm not quite ready to articulate at this time. I'm sure, thankfully, I'll have forgotten all about it by tomorrow anyway.
While at the party, I got a call from a good friend who just relocated back to Seattle from Rio via Portland. Somewhat exotic. We met out at a pub and then ended up at the Cuff. OK, I had been completely and utterly sober before we met up. A few beers later, and I'm actually entertaining his advances. Well, it wasn't just the beer. The man knows how to use his hands. That's all I'm sayin' ... Actually, truth be told, nothing scandalous happened in the slightest.
We closed down the Cuff, practically, then sang an '80s cover duet on the sidewalk along 12th Avenue when a car full of girls pulled up with their windows down (it was a surprisingly warm evening), who cheered and egged us on. A bit embarrassing, but it was a hoot and we'll never see them again anyway. Though it is Seattle, so chances are we probably already knew all of them in some way.
Next stop was Tacos Gringos, which is pretty delicious around 2:00 a.m. We sat in the window ledge, ate our tacos and shared a Fanta. Then we ventured back to my place a couple blocks away and settled in with some Strangers With Candy. OK, one episode, but it's one of my favorites. He spent the night. We just cuddled. His body language suggested much more than cuddling, but I played it cool. Though he didn't even get to second base, I did make him a pancake a sausage breakfast, really. That's not code for anything I assure you. Of course he used that as an opportunity to say, "Finally you're going to offer me some sausage."
Thankfully my new clients called that morning, so I was obliged to reconnect with them. Sometimes it's a real drag when one night lingers into the next day, even if mostly platonic. So I enthusiastically met back up with the clients, and then with a couple good friends for Thai food in Fremont afterward.
After lunch, one of my pals suggested hitting up Vivace in South Lake Union, a location/neighborhood that has connections to not one, not two, not three but four of my ex something-or-others. Ironically, he requested we visit that location because his ex works at both of the Capitol Hill locations.
We walk into the joint and sure as shit there's his ex and his ex's current boyfriend at the counter right in front of us. Of course my friend pulled the loser maneuver and bolted back out the front door, as best he could in a boot with a cain. I know we're getting a bit older, but this ensemble of his is just plain ridiculous.
Before I'm able to take a sip of my coffee, I get a call from my adorable out-of-town clients. They want to make a play for some property. Great! So I draft the contract, meet and go over it with 'em and then submit their offer. Have a few moments to catch my breath before my next meeting, catching up with a dear friend over some wine at Martin's. Apparently it was pianoke night. Well, that's what I'd call it anyway. People doing karaoke to live piano. We really just met up there to sit next to the hurricane fireplace.
I know I'm forgetting a few details from the weekend. Restful it wasn't but do you think I'm ready for a nursing home? Some 20-somethings probably do, but what do they know ...
Friday, April 11, 2008
Another Year Wiser
Yesterday marked passage into yet another adult year of life. Good times! Seriously though, this is often a time of reflection and taking stock.Of interest to note was a reconnecting visit yesterday with a professional relationship that ended four years ago almost to the day. I suppose some things do come full circle in life .
A bit of celebration, the perfect eggs benedict brunch, dinner 'n' wine with good friends and a heart warming ice cream cake that read, "Happy Birthday Byotch." Well, if the shoe fits ...
Beyond that, I met another writer, a song writer no less, just before midnight. We talked 'til nearly 2:30 this morning. There's almost nothing sexier than a well-put-together, mature man who has a talent for being able to express himself eloquently and meaningfully in words. This chance meeting was by far the icing on my cake.
So, what have I learned this past year? Well, actually something that a mysterious man once uttered to me randomly in passing when I worked at Issaquah's Gilman Village back in high school. I was all of 15, had just finished my shift at one of the quaint village eateries and was standing out back on the brick walkway, waiting for my folks to take me home.
It was a cool but fairly dry spring day. A handsome, elder gentleman appeared literally out of nowhere. He had beautiful, thick salt 'n' pepper hair, glad lines along the sides of his eyes and he whistled gaily. The stranger walked right up to me, smiled at me both with his eyes and his mouth, and then spoke these words very matter of factly, "If it's gonna be, it'll be me."
I was a bit puzzled at first. Generally I would have anticipated a friendly hello. Not in that moment, not this man; he had something profoundly meaningful to say which has stuck with me now for nearly 20 years.
Before I could engage him to inquire exactly what he meant, he was gone, literally vanishing as quickly as he had first appeared to me. A moment later, my parents drove up. "How was your day?" they inquired. Still looking a bit dismayed, "Truly wonderful," I replied and smiled ...
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
More Random Quotes du Jour
"Do we need to keep talking about how brilliant you are because you still haven't gotten over the fact your wife divorced you?" - Anonymous
"The worst part of you breaking up with this decent guy is that we can't just use one of our templates." - Grace
"I appreciate him being offended by you being so polite in thanking him because you feel guilty about dumping him." - Anonymous
"Beware of guys dressed like bushes hanging around outside your apartment." - Grace
"The worst part of you breaking up with this decent guy is that we can't just use one of our templates." - Grace
"I appreciate him being offended by you being so polite in thanking him because you feel guilty about dumping him." - Anonymous
"Beware of guys dressed like bushes hanging around outside your apartment." - Grace
Monday, April 7, 2008
Random Quotes du Jour
"I flipped off some handycapped person today and Andrew got mad at me." - Grace
"Yeah, you can tell she came from an abusive household, her parents must've beat the fashion sense out of her." - Anonymous
"I didn't hurt your feelings, my actions did." - Jack
"Yeah, you can tell she came from an abusive household, her parents must've beat the fashion sense out of her." - Anonymous
"I didn't hurt your feelings, my actions did." - Jack
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Remarkable Evening @ ACT
Tonight's prized engagement found me at ACT - A Contemporary Theatre, a guest of my good friend John who is the new PR manager for a large travel industry company. As a prospective sponsor, ACT really rolled out the red carpet for John. We were part of a small group of eight individuals who were graciously received at a privately decadent pre-show reception in a gorgeous marble-walled hall. They had set out enough food and beverage to feed an army of glitterati.
ACT Artistic Director Kurt Beattie sat down beside me and before we knew it we were engaged in a fascinating conversation about the struggles involved with leading an altruistic life.
In speaking with Kurt I opined that unfortunately the two things people in our society don't pay enough for are art and content. What a gift art is to our culture, more so to our society and utmost so on an individual level. Nothing has had a bigger impact on changing hearts, minds and legislation than art and news content is critical for responsibly turning the gears of our republic. He sat back in his chair and then turned his body to a more open, conversational position. It was a sure sign he knew I was someone who really had something to say. I felt an immediate sense of respect and admiration. He certainly has mine.
Kurt continued to discuss the importance of showcasing art from other cultures, hence tonight's production of White White Black Stork, performed by a Russian theatre group out of Tashkent, Uzbekistan as part of The Ilkhom Theatre Festival. He said it's important to be immersed in art from abroad because we Seattleites and Americans in general are so very insular. There is so much happening in our world far beyond our front doorsteps that can enrich our lives intellectually and spiritually. Very true, and very visionary.
We discussed how much technology is distancing us humans, keeping us at arm's length from one another. Also anymore these days we are quite challenged to feel any real sense of true community. These very ideologies I talk and blog about fairly frequently. Great minds think alike ...
We then digressed into a conversation around real estate and homeowners associations. Apparently both John and Kurt served on their HOA boards to much discontent. In fact, Kurt had such an interesting experience he's in the middle of writing a comedic novel about it and has thought about turning his book into a production when it's complete. He opined that the human mind is so fascinating, that the cerebral cortex is such an amazing processor of thoughts and problem solving measures yet the endocrine system dumbs us down to the very basic, primal survival "skills" of fight or flight. Funny, I had such a devolved experience just this morning ...
They sat John and I front row center. The show was intimately spectacular. Our feet literally rested upon the stage, which was at the same level as our seats. Toward the very end a fight scene nearly took place in our laps. Quite exciting.
White White Black Stork was a tragedy of young dreamers who fell victim to a set of underlying cultural circumstances and misunderstandings. The ideologies of most of the characters were not too far off from our modern day Christian fundamental-extremists, who make very literal interpretations and are completely rigid about breaking with tradition or much less allowing others to think and feel for themselves. Such attitudes are very archaic, unloving and hypocritical.
A familiar theme from the show was the concept of basic, human happiness, which under strict Muslim doctrine, culture and laws did not allow individuals to pursue such personal fulfillment. While tragic, this wonderfully moving piece of art inspired me to realize we are so very lucky to have the opportunities we do to discover happiness and personal fulfillment for ourselves. Freedom is a wonderfully precious gift most of us take for granted each and everyday of our natural born lives as modern Americans.
Live free, love free, be free ...
ACT Artistic Director Kurt Beattie sat down beside me and before we knew it we were engaged in a fascinating conversation about the struggles involved with leading an altruistic life.
In speaking with Kurt I opined that unfortunately the two things people in our society don't pay enough for are art and content. What a gift art is to our culture, more so to our society and utmost so on an individual level. Nothing has had a bigger impact on changing hearts, minds and legislation than art and news content is critical for responsibly turning the gears of our republic. He sat back in his chair and then turned his body to a more open, conversational position. It was a sure sign he knew I was someone who really had something to say. I felt an immediate sense of respect and admiration. He certainly has mine.
Kurt continued to discuss the importance of showcasing art from other cultures, hence tonight's production of White White Black Stork, performed by a Russian theatre group out of Tashkent, Uzbekistan as part of The Ilkhom Theatre Festival. He said it's important to be immersed in art from abroad because we Seattleites and Americans in general are so very insular. There is so much happening in our world far beyond our front doorsteps that can enrich our lives intellectually and spiritually. Very true, and very visionary.
We discussed how much technology is distancing us humans, keeping us at arm's length from one another. Also anymore these days we are quite challenged to feel any real sense of true community. These very ideologies I talk and blog about fairly frequently. Great minds think alike ...
We then digressed into a conversation around real estate and homeowners associations. Apparently both John and Kurt served on their HOA boards to much discontent. In fact, Kurt had such an interesting experience he's in the middle of writing a comedic novel about it and has thought about turning his book into a production when it's complete. He opined that the human mind is so fascinating, that the cerebral cortex is such an amazing processor of thoughts and problem solving measures yet the endocrine system dumbs us down to the very basic, primal survival "skills" of fight or flight. Funny, I had such a devolved experience just this morning ...
They sat John and I front row center. The show was intimately spectacular. Our feet literally rested upon the stage, which was at the same level as our seats. Toward the very end a fight scene nearly took place in our laps. Quite exciting.
White White Black Stork was a tragedy of young dreamers who fell victim to a set of underlying cultural circumstances and misunderstandings. The ideologies of most of the characters were not too far off from our modern day Christian fundamental-extremists, who make very literal interpretations and are completely rigid about breaking with tradition or much less allowing others to think and feel for themselves. Such attitudes are very archaic, unloving and hypocritical.
A familiar theme from the show was the concept of basic, human happiness, which under strict Muslim doctrine, culture and laws did not allow individuals to pursue such personal fulfillment. While tragic, this wonderfully moving piece of art inspired me to realize we are so very lucky to have the opportunities we do to discover happiness and personal fulfillment for ourselves. Freedom is a wonderfully precious gift most of us take for granted each and everyday of our natural born lives as modern Americans.
Live free, love free, be free ...
and the oracle says ...
LAST MONTH: Where will you be by the end of the month? Ha! How can you be so sure? I mean, you may well be right, but is life really so predictable? You need a little more spontaneity even if it has to come at the cost of some additional uncertainty. You are hanging on too tightly to a plan or a strategy. It's not necessarily a bad one - but nor is it the only one you could be applying. In becoming overly dismissive of alternatives, you are keeping a potentially better solution at bay. The universe wants to help you. That's why it keeps offering new options to contemplate. Don't feel obliged to rule them out due to loyalty to your original idea!
TODAY: Maybe we can repress certain instincts, but it is very hard to subjugate them entirely. You now know what you ought to avoid. Yet a part of your heart is not at all interested in convenient compromise. It wants the ultimate ... the best. It knows too that there is a chance of getting this. Sooner or later, you will find yourself pushing at the limits you have recently tried to impose upon yourself. That's appropriate really for as the New Moon approaches, you now need the strength to trust your deepest urges.
THIS WEEK: As we approach April, each day takes us closer to the point where first Mercury, then Venus, will enter Aries. Then, there will be a New Moon in this sign. So is that good news for Aries and indifferent news for everyone else? On the contrary. It symbolises the release of fresh energy. All of us, no matter what sign we are, will feel the benefit. First, we'll see something fall apart or come to an end. Then, whilst we are still bemoaning our loss, the phoenix will arise from the ashes. Somehow, in every life this week, something wonderful will emerge from a process that has been difficult.
As we now edge towards the annual New Moon, we find you beginning to run out of energy. You have not entirely lost your enthusiasm for a great aspiration but, rather like a tire with a slow puncture, you are slowly starting to feel jaded and deflated. Worse, as you continue to journey towards your destination, you can feel every bump on the road. Something needs to change. Faith must be restored but that probably requires a reassuring sign of some kind. What can lift your spirits? The cosmos knows, even if you don't. Prepare for a timely and inspiring boost.
All signs point to ... ???
As of late I've been seeing the most lovely man, who I find attractive, sincere, loving and just all around fantastic. Yet something in me isn't allowing me to get closer or let him in further. He has called me out on it more than once, including last night. He said he senses I'm afraid to like him. Previously he said he felt I was holding back. It's still so new, and perhaps I am being appropriately reserved. This man possesses so many admirable qualities and cares for me in such a manner that is quite frankly incredibly divine. So why hold back?
We slept in this morning and then walked a few blocks up the hill for a coffee and a stroll through the park. What a gorgeous morning to be admired and adored by a wonderful human being who I also admire. I told him of some of my near term hopes and dreams, and he attentively listened as well as expressed his support of my desires.
We walked to the corner of a busy intersection where he was continuing in one direction and me in another. Spontaneously I decided to walk him just to the corner of the next block, even though it would be taking me 30 paces further away from my destination. We kissed goodbye, I turned 90 degrees away, crossed the street and continued my way down the West side of Capitol Hill.
One block later, as I was crossing the street, he suddenly emerged from an old brick apartment building and was nearing the same corner I was approaching. He being the man I fell deeply in love with not long after my seven year relationship ended. He being the man who walked away while telling me he was still in love with me. He being the man whose actions spoke louder than his words. He being the man whose words I listened to and longed to believe despite his inactions speaking to the contrary. He being the man who now avoids me as though I've wronged him in some way. He being a total manifestation of the reason behind the observations made by the lovely gentleman I'm with today ...
My heart dropped inside me when I saw him. Part of me felt obliged to say hi since we were so coincidentally standing practically within arms length on the same street corner. In fact, I was wearing a shirt he brought me back from Mexico. Instantly I wondered whether he had taken up residence in this building just a couple blocks from my apartment. He didn't appear as well groomed as he typically keeps himself. Perhaps he had spent the night with a trick. Perhaps he's seeing someone new. Either way it's really none of my business.
Instead of acknowledging his presence, I maintained my anonymity below my baseball cap and behind my dark sunglasses, casually turning 90 degrees away from him and regaining the 30 paces I had given to the other man I had just previously parted ways with. This time something in my gut directed me to avoid him.
Now I have to stop and wonder, am I still carrying something for him? If so, what and better yet why? Why now? Why after all this time? It has been well over a year since he told me to trust that he'll return to my life when he's ready. How selfish, unloving and open-ended - why should I even care anymore? Besides, we were only together for such a short time anyway. Perhaps what we shared during that time is something I'm having a diffiuclt time letting go of. Perhaps I'm naturally feeling awkward because we left things so unresolved and lacking any sort of closure. Perhaps it's because of how he reacted to me the last time we were in one another's presence a couple months back, cupping his hand to the side of his face, trying to slink by me unnoticed. Generally not an action that would leave someone feeling settled.
In every way I've moved on, but that doesn't mean I've moved beyond. I will though, soon ...
We slept in this morning and then walked a few blocks up the hill for a coffee and a stroll through the park. What a gorgeous morning to be admired and adored by a wonderful human being who I also admire. I told him of some of my near term hopes and dreams, and he attentively listened as well as expressed his support of my desires.
We walked to the corner of a busy intersection where he was continuing in one direction and me in another. Spontaneously I decided to walk him just to the corner of the next block, even though it would be taking me 30 paces further away from my destination. We kissed goodbye, I turned 90 degrees away, crossed the street and continued my way down the West side of Capitol Hill.
One block later, as I was crossing the street, he suddenly emerged from an old brick apartment building and was nearing the same corner I was approaching. He being the man I fell deeply in love with not long after my seven year relationship ended. He being the man who walked away while telling me he was still in love with me. He being the man whose actions spoke louder than his words. He being the man whose words I listened to and longed to believe despite his inactions speaking to the contrary. He being the man who now avoids me as though I've wronged him in some way. He being a total manifestation of the reason behind the observations made by the lovely gentleman I'm with today ...
My heart dropped inside me when I saw him. Part of me felt obliged to say hi since we were so coincidentally standing practically within arms length on the same street corner. In fact, I was wearing a shirt he brought me back from Mexico. Instantly I wondered whether he had taken up residence in this building just a couple blocks from my apartment. He didn't appear as well groomed as he typically keeps himself. Perhaps he had spent the night with a trick. Perhaps he's seeing someone new. Either way it's really none of my business.
Instead of acknowledging his presence, I maintained my anonymity below my baseball cap and behind my dark sunglasses, casually turning 90 degrees away from him and regaining the 30 paces I had given to the other man I had just previously parted ways with. This time something in my gut directed me to avoid him.
Now I have to stop and wonder, am I still carrying something for him? If so, what and better yet why? Why now? Why after all this time? It has been well over a year since he told me to trust that he'll return to my life when he's ready. How selfish, unloving and open-ended - why should I even care anymore? Besides, we were only together for such a short time anyway. Perhaps what we shared during that time is something I'm having a diffiuclt time letting go of. Perhaps I'm naturally feeling awkward because we left things so unresolved and lacking any sort of closure. Perhaps it's because of how he reacted to me the last time we were in one another's presence a couple months back, cupping his hand to the side of his face, trying to slink by me unnoticed. Generally not an action that would leave someone feeling settled.
In every way I've moved on, but that doesn't mean I've moved beyond. I will though, soon ...
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