THOUGHTS FROM A WINDY NIGHT ON NOB HILL…As I walked my way up Nob Hill to have dinner with a nice guy whom I recently met, I began to think about the importance of connection. The need to embrace. The need to hold. The need to be together. And the fears that we all have wrapped around those things. I was filled with a sense of hope. A feeling of yearning.

This is not about loneliness or fear of being alone — this is simply about the importance of understanding the human need for love.

After my date, as I walked back down Nob Hil, I felt some relief.

I also felt a sense of regret that often creeps up when we realize that a choice made did not lead to the place (or feeling) for wish we aspired. Instead, that choice had brought me in an opposite direction.

A connection can turn into a disconnect and a touch can be fleeting. It can be false. It can be without meaning.

This is not about sadness or failure. This is about life. And, it isn’t always easy. In fact, it can be fucking hard.

However, the air is clean. The city is beautiful. And, life is filled with hope. You have no choice but to soldier on and continue to search for that connection.

EROTIC DREAMS OF THE DAMAGED AND CONFUSED OR WON’T WALK FOR DAYS…
…Will + Alison = GOLDFRAPP ELECTRO-MAGIC!

Kids, I am so excited I can barely contain myself! Ing just scored 2 tickets to see GOLDFRAPP when they come to the Fillmore in San Francisco!!!!! Oh, and one of the tickets is for me as soon as I pay her!!! I am so excited to know that I shall soon be Goldfrapped! …and, at the Fillmore! Well, that makes it all the more exciting! Wow! Ingrid and I will be riding the white horse. And, if the lyrics are correct, we might not be able to walk for days — after Goldfrapp gets all funked up on our collective ass! Whoo-hoo! Number One!

I got to hang for a bit with my fave SF street artiste, Peet (who likes to write is his name in the form of a PacMan icon with a copyright symbol and the date of 1930-something or other. But, his name is Peet. I love his art work. However, after sitting with him on Market Street for about an hour I am thinking that he might need a bath, new teeth and better boom box. But, he is so talented. I will have to take a picture of the two pieces I have by him. He only paints on old pieces of furniture he finds discarded all about the town. I would guess Peet to be in his late 20’s. His work should be in a gallery somewhere. I admire him for really living the life of a total artiste, but I do wish him some dental benefits and a tub soon! …but I guess talent doesn’t need a bath. It just needs blood and inspiration. And, when it comes to Peet, it needs bits of furniture.

THE DEVIL & DANIEL JOHNSTON was an amazing film! I knew that Ingrid and I would love it, but I think Milford loved it, too! He even asked a question to the producer who was there to speak after the film screened. The film still needs a distributor. I hope they find one. It was incredible. Apparently Daniel Johnston is quite pleased with the colors used in the film. Oh, and I think that was a silly Internet rumor. Mr. Johnston was not present last night or Friday. Just the producer who was so nervous his voice shook as she spoke and mispronounced words. I kept thinking he was going to cry as he spoke. Poor guy. But, he helped to create one hell of a movie!

OK, so the main point of my blog. I put it all on the line when it comes to my blog. I try to keep my life as much of an open book as I can. And I do so love the feedback — tho, I do wish some of you would comment on the blog so that others can “hear” your voice and ideas. This is the fun of blogging. Well, for me anyway.

But, the time has come for me to share something with you. An erotic dream that just will not go away! Yes, my friends — it is true. I have been having repeated dreams of hot sex with Keith Moon. Now, I know. It doesn’t sound that bad. Sordid. Sure. But, what’s wrong with hot sex dreams of Rock Gods? Well, mine is a bit odd. Big surprise. Right?

Ok. Here is the dream. Now, Keith Moon was once a very cute young lad and was even sort of hot as an older man. However, in my dream I am “doing” …or being “done” by the bloated Keith Moon of the final years. You know, the smelly looking one strung out on a mix of H, dolls, beer, whiskey and excess beyond all reasonable measure. Yes, kids, I keep dreaming of the Keith Moon who had a tendency to OD, turn blue, wake up and then drive cars into Roger Daltrey’s swimming pool. I guess you could say my dream is more of the Uncle Ernie variety than The Kidz Are Alright sort.

So, the dream is always the same. I come off an elevator. Keith Moon is waiting for me. He is sooooo stoned and smells of stale cigs, bo and has track marks all over his arms. He grabs me. I almost feel like I am in a more sleazy version of the “Justify My Life” vid-clip where Tony Ward is gone and a near-death Who member is about to ‘do’ me. And, boy, does he! I have to confess that this dream sex is hot and very good despite my disgust with how he looks and smells.

But, then, at some point, I realize that we are being watched.

And, then I realize that Sheryl Crow is seated in a chair which has been placed directly in front of the bottom of the bed. She is studying us and taking notes. She makes a funny noise at times but it is hard for me to decide which noise are hers and which are his. I think I hear the sounds of cats in heat.

I do stop him for a second and demand to know why he has let Sheryl Crow into the room. He tells me to not worry about it and just enjoy. He then tells me that I should be honored that a Rock Goddess wants to study me being fucked by “The” Keith Moon. He starts back to work, but I stop him and explain in a very business like way that he is mistaken. “That is Sheryl Crow. Janis or Stevie are Rock Goddess. Sheryl is barely a pop princess!” — now, the only variation I’ve encountered to this dream is that Sheryl now tosses her pen at us when I make this comment.sheryl is watching and getting pissed off cuz she is not a Rock-n-Roll Goddess

…but, she doesn’t leave. And, smelly/old/bloated Keith Moon does me to the inth degree.

Why can’t I dream of hot sex with Robert Plant circa 1977 or even Ricky Martin circa 1997!??!? Or, for that matter — why not Kieth Moon circa 1970?!?!?
Why must I have erotic dreams of a rock-n-roll cliche?

Sigh.

Well, I’ve a date in a few. I hope he doesn’t look like Kieth Moon.

Today’s extended iPod Shuffle (because I know you want to know!):
“Like Dylan In The Movie” by Belle & Sebastian
“To Shelia” by Smashing Pumpkins
“Bubble Pop Electric” by Gwen Stefani
“Cuddle Up” by Captain & Tennille
“Round & Round” by New Order
“Big Stripey Lie” by Kate Bush
“Love It Is Love” by Sophie Ellis-Bextor
“Gone” by Bodies Without Organs
“Cripple & The Starfish” by Antony & The Johnsons
“Avenue” by Saint Etienne
“You Can Feel Me” by Har Mar Superstar
“Off On It” by Roisin Murphy
“Chrome” by Debbie Harry
“The Game” by Echo & The Bunnymen
“Who’s That?” by Tiga

….for that matter, why can’t I have sweet dreams of Tiga?

PAINTING AWAY THE CLOUDS OF RAIN…
Last weekend as I was on my way to meet up with that Goddess otherwise known as “Ing” — she, Alan and I later met up with my brother to hang out for the evening. Anyway, I looked out the streetcar and saw a beautiful woman painting a huge mural over a wall that has always been rather ugly. I checked in with my pal and then ran back down the street and asked the painter if I could take her picture. She was about my age and was working a sort of Kate Bush look that was really working for her. She had this lovely Eastern European accent. I wanted to ask her from where in Europe she came but I was worried that she might think I was hitting on her. Instead I asked her about the painting. She had been there since the morning and was determined to hide the cracks and damage of the wall. She pointed out that she feared the next earthquake would take it down anyway, but she wanted to make it pretty. I told her that I felt it was always good to try and make your corner of the world as beautiful as possible. We only chatted for a few minutes. We talked about the weather and how this rainy season seems to be without end. She mentioned that she felt part of her drive had to do with the fact that we had a respite from the rain for a little while.

I spent over 3 hours completing paperwork for the evil lawyers representing AmEx in their lawsuit against me. I am now having to have it copied at a copy shop. It is going to take them 2 hours. Hard to believe all the crap that I had to provide and enter. I figure AmEx has spent whatever it is that they feel I owe them just on pursuing this. But, whatever. In another hour I will return to the copy shop, walk over to UPS and have it sent to the court, the lawyers and one to me because I AM NOT going to carry that beast of burden around with me tonight.

I located my MonkeyWithGiantPenis necklace. …It was in the dryer. I had to go to that odd little bead store on Castro and have the leather cord replaced. It cost me $1.98. The cool bead riot girrrrrrrl explained to me that this is a Thai symbol for financial good luck. Cool! Someone out there — thank you for sending my monkey penis necklace!!! It is on as I type. It feels good to have it back on!

Well, I have a couple of dates getting lined up for the coming week. Yeah, well. And, it looks like I might be going to LA in August. It will be an adventure! A couple of people whom I love deeply are going to be concerned about this little trip, but I think I want to make it. I think I need to make it.

Oh, and tonight!!! So, tonight Ingrid and I are seeing the new documentary about brilliant songsmith, Daniel Johnston. It is called DANIEL JOHNSTON AND THE DEVIL. I think it is going to focus on his creativity and how he believes that this creative side comes from his mental illness. He is in town this weekend and was at the showing at the Lumiere last night. I hope he might be there tonight, but I hope he isn’t in one of his downward spiral moods. LOL! Poor guy. However, I have very strong feelings about his opinion that meds are wrong. I now put him in the same nut boat as Tommy Cruise. Yeah, I call him “Tommy” …We’re tight. I don’t agree with his opinions and am upset that he left me for that Katie Holmes girl but you know — I did cheat on him with George Clooney. Oh, um. Wait. Time for my meds. Milford is going to hook up with us after we get out of the movie and hang with us at some cool place that only Ing knows about. Ing knows all the cool hidden places in this magical city.

I fear I look silly today. I am in my cowboy button down shirt, untucked, with a red sport coat, flare-leg’d jeans and my black man clogs. I was getting attention from “the boys” as I walked here but I think that they may have been making fun of me vs. wanting to sex me up. Oh well. This seemed the approprate costume for the day. Good fashion intentions are better than none. I think. I felt about 20 of you recoil as I typed “man clogs” (sorry)

Anyway, as I ramble away I can see the sun attempting to shine down on us. But we all know that the winds from Japan are sending us a whooper of a storm later this afternoon. Someone said that this will be the last week of it and that the sunny days return next week. I hope they are right. However, if they are wrong — I hope this lovely lady will paint up another mural to help us wish away all this rain.

“GAY MUCH?!?!”
…This is what the sales clerk asked me as I approached his register clutching my copy of the DVD DeLux Collector’s Edition of “LIZA WITH A Z” — the infamous Bob Fosse produced/directed TV special from the early 70’s staring Liza Minnelli. When he asked me this I responded by saying, “Yes. Far too much. And, you?” …He then responded, “Yes, but not THIS much! Wow, dude! You’re so totally gay!” It was funny.

The fact is that I do not really care for most of Ms. Minnelli’s work. I mean I thought she was awesome in CABARET. …and, I do love the soundtrack to this TV special. My Grandmother got it for me when I was about 5 years old. She knew I loved Barbra and felt that Babs and Liza were one in the same. Not so. But, I do still enjoy this record. So, I am a very excited to finally be able to watch AND listen!!! Yay! …whenever I see Liza Minnelli in anything other than CABARET I have to fight the urge to scream, “Honey, calm down! You’ve got the job! They hired you! Turn it down a couple of notches and breathe!” …Liza is just so high-strung. She makes me nervous.

When I mentioned the upcoming release of this DVD to Ing she commented about Liza. I think Liza either scares Ing or also makes her very nervous. However, Ing is known to skin skunks. But, I’ve done FAR worse. So, maybe Liza makes us both nervous.

Anyway, I am looking forward to watching this spectacle from 1972! When Liza was thin and had the world in the palm of her hand. …who knew?!?!?

As it is Poetry month I know many of you are thinking of classic poems. I am not. I love poetry and am familiar with a great deal of it. Degree in English Lit and all, but today I am thinking of a poem to beat all poems. I shall share it with you now.

“You see, it’s Liza with a Z
Not Lisa with an S
‘Cause Lisa with an S goes ’snssss’
It’s ‘Lie’ instead of ‘Lee’
It’s simple as can be
See ‘Liza’?

Now if my name were Ada, I’d be Ada.
Even backwards I’d be Ada
Or if my name were Ruth, then I’d be Ruth.
Because with Ruth what can you do?
Or Sally. Or Margaret. Or Ginger. Or Faye.

But when you’re a Liza you always have to say,
It’s Liza with a Z
Not Lisa with an S
‘Cause Lisa with an S goes ’snssss’
It’s ‘Lie’ instead of ‘Lee’
It’s simple as can be
See ‘Liza’?

Oh, and that is only half of it!
There is another way they treat me cruelly
How often I remember someone saying,
‘Oh there she goes, Lisa Minnulie’”

Well, yeah. Gay an awful lot. …and, on so very many levels! But it is all so bright, sparkling, pink and over-the-top — how can one resist?!?!?!

THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE ON THE ELEVATOR…
The morning was moving slow at the big gay front desk. So, I decided to run up some paperwork to another doctor’s office on one of the higher floors. I work in a rather tall building to San Francisco standards.

There was a loud conversation going on in the elevator as I walked in. Two cute men. One tall, lanky and about as white as a person can get. The other was short, curved and Asian. The tall guy was gesturing with his hands and essentially yelling at his friend — who stood sort of smiling and nodding his head. There was a look of panic and confusion in the eyes of the short man.

As soon as I got back to my desk I pulled out my handy Hello Kitty memo pad and recorded what I had heard — and, what had happened. This was definitely a case of a language barrier on the rise.

“…I am trying to tell you that it is just hard for me! Do you understand what I am saying?!?!?!?”

Short man just looks confused but sort of happy. He nods.

“Look. Try not to take it so badly. It is just it has been a long time since I shared my home and bed with anyone. I am really into you but it is just odd to have a warm body holding on to mine after so many years of being alone!”

Short man nods. I try not to look at them, but it is hard to not watch this odd situation unfold to my right as we go up and up. The tall man is really yelling now.

“IT IS HARD TO SHARE A BED! I LIKE YOU! BUT IT IS STRANGE TO SLEEP WITH SOMEONE AFTER SO MANY YEARS OF BEING ALONE.”

“You want me go bye now?” …the short man looks so worried and afraid.

OK, I am watching them now. I can’t seem to help it.

“NO! BABY, WHY CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!?!”

The elevator stops and a nurse joins us on our ride. There is a repeat of the conversation again but louder. The nurse is watching even more obviously than me.

“Excuse me,” she interrupts this comical conversation. “But, you know, yelling is not going to help him understand you.”

“SHUT UP! WHO ASKED YOU!?!?”

The elevator stops. The nurse rushes out. I think about rushing out with her, but it was just too damn interesting.

“Hey,” Oh shit. The tall guy is speaking to me.

“Do you speak Chinese?”

“I think you mean mandarin or Cantonese, but no. I can only barely speak English.”

The elevator stops. The doors open. I am at my floor of destination.

“Yeah. Me too. It is so fucking difficult when you can’t speak the same language as your lover!”

“Yeah. That must be tough.”

I step out of the elevator and wonder if the tall guy will ever get the short guy to understand the intimacy issue. Conversations on an elevator. Who knew??!??

I AM A CAMERA! WELL, SORT OF…

As I checked out the last morning patient I realized that it was lunch time. Now, I am living on a shoestring at the moment. So, I’ve been sort of skipping out on lunch every other day. I figure I will be at a better place financially after this month. But, for now, it’s all about eating on the cheap. So, I decided to go for a walk as this endless San Francisco raining season was taking a brief break.

I thought of returning a phone call, but I spend all day on the phone and chatting. I wasn’t really up for a phone conversation. I was lost in thought as I walked down Powell Street. And, then I heard the click of a camera. A sound that was right on me. I stopped. I turned to see who was taking my picture only to find an old woman a few feet behind me fighting her way up the hill. No camera anywhere in sight. The camera clicking continued to follow me for several blocks. I was sort of getting freaked out.

“OK. You are obviously losing it. Get a grip!”

I was wishing I had brought my iPod. Why was I hearing things!?!?!

My hunger was stronger than usual. So, I caved and walked into a tiny sandwich shop. As I stood in line I continued to hear the sound of a clicking camera almost constantly.

“OK. Just chill.”

I looked around. No one seemed to be noticing the sound and no one had a camera.

As I walked up to the counter and ordered my $3 grilled cheese sandwich the girl at the counter was giving me a funny look. As she took my money the sound of the clicking camera seemed to get louder. She continued to look up at me with a nervous look on her face.

“OK, I know this sounds really odd — but do you hear that camera clicking noise?!?!?” I asked this as I gestured with my hands.

The girl stopped and looked at me for a second. There was that clicking camera sound again.

She raised her hand and pointed at my left hand. “Um, you’re taking pictures with your cell phone. Sir.”

I looked to my left and saw my cell phone blinking like crazy. I literally jumped and the phone fell to the counter. And, there, on the counter top was a lovely picture of the cashier’s nostril. We both began to laugh. I apologized. She asked me how long I had been hearing it without realizing. I felt my face flush and told her that I had been hearing the sound for well over half an hour. We then took a look. …I had taken close to 50 pictures. There was almost no memory left.

I sat down with my sandwich and started deleting all of the many photos which I had taken. Yeah, I’m cool.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN. …THE DATING ROAD, THAT IS!

It always looked so much fun in those old movies! You know, Annette and Frankie dating. Sure, they had problems but all worked out in the end and they had loads of fun and danced to really bad faux Beach Boys music. But this is reality, kids. And, you better sit down.

Now, I am a male but I don’t know or understand men any better for being one.

A few questions to which I suspect there are no direct answers:

1. Why do some guys get so serious about it? I mean, just because we’re dating doesn’t mean we have to get married next week.

2. Why so many silly games? If you want to call me — call me. If I want to call you I am going to call you.

3. I’m not a prude, but at 39 I really want more than just a cheap night of sex. No ring required, but I want to know the person and know that we’ll continue to get to know each other. Getting laid is so easy — why bother dating if that is all you want??!?!

4. And, why do most guys get more interested when you become less interested?!?!?!

I shrug. I roll my eyes. I get dressed for my date and hope to impress. Hope to win a heart and give mine away. And, I pray that he doesn’t toss it about like a football.

REFLECTIONS ON A YEAR OF ADVENTURE AND CHANGE…

I purchased my April MUNI pass yesterday. And, today is April 1st. Later this month it will be one year since I left Boston and moved to San Francisco to start “it” all over.

A year ago, I had spent a good deal of time trying to decide if I should move to NYC or to SF. In the end, I made the right decision. Not that it has been an easy year by any stretch of the imagination. But, it has been a magical year full of self-discover, personal growth and a complete re-alignment of priorities/values. And, so much has changed. …Nothing changes but the changes. Or, at least, that is what my Grandmother used to say. I always agreed with that.

A year ago at this time I weighed 230lbs. I now weigh 153lbs. Yay!

A year ago at this time I felt so very lost. Today I can safely say that I feel “found”

A year ago I wondered if there was such a thing as romantic love that was “real” — today I know there is. Now, the key is to find it with someone who can return it to me.

A year ago I felt so very alone and lonely. Today I find that my life if filled with love and friendships — and an even deeper appreciation of the friendships and love I share with souls outside of The Bay Area. I miss them so much, but I feel oddly closer to them than I did when I was closer. I have three friends here in SF who I love so deeply I can’t even fully express it. They are my anchors of support — I hope I am a rock of support for them. There names begin with “M” and “A” and “I” — and all three have saved me on more than a few occasions. I doubt they even realize it. And, I never knew how quickly life bonds could develop.

Over the course of the last year or so I’ve learned how little money matters and have an even deeper appreciation of the priceless value of love.

I have discovered things about myself around the areas of strength, will, determination, sex, spirituality, writing, fear, love, anger, frustration, art, magic and joy. And, I am quite happy with what I’ve discovered.

My financial struggles continue but I think I see a light at the end of that tunnel. …knocking on wood.

I left a job in which I was without hope and I think I have finally found a job in which I am happy. Who knew you could wake up looking forward to getting to “the office”!?!?

I walked away from a relationship that had taken a forever turn to sadness and I believe that we are both all the better for it.

A year later my heart has been filled, emptied, broken and re-filled again. My soul has been tested and I think I scored well. A year later I am proud of my life and my choices. A year ago I was embarrassed by them.

A year later I truly have no secrets. I am an open book and anyone is more than welcome to read it. If they opt to judge — I could give a toss. It is my book. I am immune to reviews of scorn.

A year later I am as happy as I’ve ever been and no matter what comes my way as I move into my second year of adventure — I know that no one can say I’ve not taken chances in life. And, I think I’ve managed to avoid what I used to be so concerned with — mine is not a dull life. It is filled with surprises, interesting people and ideas.

I’m no pair of tumblin’ dice but neither am I a stagnant pool of water.

As I approach my first year San Francisco anniversary and my 40th birthday this November I am eager, happy and curious to see what is waiting for me. A year ago I doubted the existence of a Higher Power. A year later I have never been more certain that SHE is there. I know this. I don’t really “get” HER but I figure that once a human soul does it is probably time for a ‘career change’ and I’m not looking for that at this point.

Like Miss Jean Brodie, “Dear Geeels, I am in my prime!” However, I do know a fascist when I see one! And, I don’t wear frilly scarves or ramble on about Italian art and French food. I do, however, sing the body electric as loudly as I can. …maybe that is why the cool lady at the cafe just gave me a free Diet Coke.

April 1st iPod Shuffle:
“Spring Haze” by Tori Amos
“The Lizard Song” by Etienne De Rocher
“Apples On A Stick” by Crossover
“Fistful of Love” by Antony & The Johnsons
“(Far From) Home” by Tiga
“Sow Into You” by Roisin Murphy
“The Power of Orange Knickers” by Tori Amos
“Where Am I Going?” by Barbra Streisand
“Mad World” by Gary Jules