…I should have known it was going to be a strange outing when I passed this on my way to our neighborhood BART station. I am not sure, but I suspect the sight of a discarded box of detergent, a sweater and a wig at the side of the street is an omen of some sort. However, I snap’d a picture and kept walking toward the day’s destiny.
I wasn’t feeling great, but nothing new there. I was feeling a little bit better about myself, tho. Yes, I’ve lost 2 pounds! I’m into taking baby steps at the moment. So, 2 pounds lost is so much better than 2 gained any day!
Anyway, it is quite sunny and gorgeous — but I knew that there would be a slight chill in the air once the train landed me at Embacadero Center. So, I had my cool Diesel hoodie on along with my stylin’ flip-flops. …At least I think that they are kind of SF stylin’ cool. I don’t know.
After the train made the first stop in San Francisco, I step’d off my train and walked toward the up escalator which was actually working. Just before I boarded two persons bearing roller luggage and strapping matching fanny packs cut me off and slowly pulled themselves on to the ride. I was going to wait for two steps to pass and put some space between us but a tide of newly arrived folks surged forward and I ended up standing on the step directly behind the male of the 50-something couple.
At one point, I noticed that he prod’d his wife and they moved as close to the rail as possible with his giving me a not so discreet sign to pass them. However, I’m not full of grace as of late and need to lean on the rail.
So, the three of us rode up the escalator as everyone quickly sprinted by us. It was almost comical watching the two of them scurry off the escalator as if life depended on it. They step’d to the side as I step’d off. I figured that they were just nervous tourists on the escalator. I bet they had taken the BART from the airport to save cab fare. They were probably more than a little lost.
I walked to Subway and ordered my usual. As I placed my order I noticed that they were right behind me in line. I had that uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The girl behind the counter asked me what was on my iPod. I showed her. She squealed and asked if Goldfrapp was the group who sang the song about the vibrator. I confirmed that they were. She did a quick dance motion and told me to enjoy the day.
I sat down with my copy of The SF Weekly. The couple moved their luggage in where the chair opposite me would be. The chair made an awful screeching noise as it was dragged away to make room for the ugly luggage.
And, then — the dreaded moment came. He spoke to me — in a very southern accent.
“We were worried that you were a pick pocket! But, then we noticed how you’re dressed. That escalator was so crowded! This is our first time in San Francisco!”
“Me? A pick pocket? That’s too funny. Welcome to San Francisco.” …I quickly went back to my paper.
“We were kinda wondering — are you one of them gays?”
(awkward pause as I tried to determine how I wanted to respond)
“Why, yes. I am one of them gays. We actually roam free in San Francisco.” (I did my best to imitate his accent)
“Aw shoot, man! I didn’t mean nothin’ by it! But, we don’t have any gays where we come from.”
“No problem. From which fag-free state are y’all from?”
(another awkward moment as the male tourist tried to determine how to respond)
“Well son, we’re from Idaho.”
“You’re right. I doubt that there are any homosexuals in Idaho. Jesus! Did you two just fall off the Ignorant Boat?”
(the wife leaned forward and spoke)
“I’m so sorry! He’s just nervous!”
“It’s cool” I returned to my paper and sandwich wondering why these things only seem to happen to me and if it was the PTSD which had caused me to be so rude. Oh, well. They will get over it, I thought
…but, then the conversational shoe fell.
“Any suggestions about what we should check out on this beautiful day?”
“You can look at even more gay men and women in The Castro. You might even see a tranny on such a grand day. Watch out for the giant erect penis monument! Be sure to have your cameras at the ready!”
…and, I got up with my sandwich and left. I had forgotten my paper and my Diet Coke. Somehow, I figure it served me right. I should not have been that ugly.
I picked up a Diet Coke at the shop next door and headed to the Bay where I sat in the sun for a while.
I think I’ll blame it on that damn wig.
…the song is not about what you might think — especially given the way cool Super 8 movie that Alison Goldfrapp made to accompany the UK box set release of awesome new Goldfrapp!!! Yes, it has officially arrived to both the UK and the US!
Granted, gone is the glitter magic happy of glam disco — but as my pal, Walter, pointed out — present is the quiet, sunny and erotic! And, as I’ve already written, it more shimmers than glitters.
And, as The Great Dessie pointed out to me not too long ago — “…we’ll always have Paris”
No! Wait! That isn’t what he told me.
No, he said — “…we’ll always have ‘Supernature'” …and, so, it is time to move on and hope we don’t find ourselves asking, “How did I get to Accident and Emergency?!?!?”
…maybe it really is just pills at work! No. I think it is a great new recording from the mind that is Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory! God bless ’em!
Anyway, I think everyone needs to rush out and purchase or officially download the new LP!
…and, this is one example of this. I loved this LP when I was a kid! And, no, I didn’t get the double meaning at the time! Anyway, I recently found this LP in a dollar bin. There were two copies: One was almost pristine and the other was the one I purchased. It has a lot of surface scratches and noise pops as it plays. I think 70’s Heart sounds best this way too. I have a near mint copy of “Dreamboat Annie” but I think I’d rather have a surface noise copy. It seems to add something.
Questions I Made Up:
2. If you could bring back any dead person, who would it be?
My Grandmother. I’m always thinking of things I would like to tell or show her. And, I often wonder what she would think of me as I am now.
3. If you could have dinner with any historical figure, who would it be?
Forget Jesus or Ghandi, I’d like to have dinner with Amy Carter and gay porn legend Joey Stefano.
Maybe Patty Hearst could join us for dessert! You have to admit it would be interesting. …Or, maybe not. I don’t know. But, seriously, think of the stories each could share! Somehow, perhaps, John Waters could turn it all into a great musical!!!
5. What, in your opinion, is the coolest LP cover of the 1990’s?
After much soul searching, I’d have to say it would be Hole’s “Live Through This” CD. One cringes just looking at it. Painfully real. …And, uniquely American somehow. I don’t know.
I’m not so sure I’m good at thinking of questions. I think I will so sit by the bay and watch the water. It is a beautiful and sunny day!
As I sorted and folded thoughts — my mind began to wander all about. I brewed some tea and sat in my green chair and tried to sort my thoughts the same way I had worked the socks. However, much like our sock collection — several thoughts failed to match up with others, more than a few had holes, one seemed to have some dried paste stuck to the bottom and a couple had faded away to thin fabrics from my mind’s Third Eye.
I decided to jot a few of these thoughts down in my note journal. Tried as hard as could, but these thoughts remain unsorted. These are the thoughts most in need of another to form a pair:
* I feel sad that so few people seem to realize the power, beauty and depth of Greta Garbo. I don’t mean just that face which seemed to glow in the dark shots of cinema. There was so much more — the timbre and grace of that voice that managed to be both warm and distant at once. Unsure and steady at the same time. And, the grace that moved from frame to frame as if without thought — and the grace of the woman who opted out of the Hollywood Machine forever cementing a sort of mystery of what was and left us wanting for more — and wondering what that more might have produced. Movie magic we will never know again.
**My legs are starting to ache almost as much as my heart.
***Why do some people want to hold others up to a standard to which they fail to even hold themselves? And, why are they so unable to notice that they do this?
*****Time seems to go by way too fast and way too slow — at the same time. It didn’t always feel that way.
*******I saw a film from Thailand that gave me a sort of sucker-punch. I need to watch it once more and write about it. I don’t think enough people have seen it. …Like my stupid blog will help. Yeah, well. Whatever. lol.
**********I miss weed so much it hurts. I dream about it. And, right now, those are the only nice dreams I have. How funny. …nice dreams. …I just thought of that! I used to love that movie! I doubt I would now, tho.
***********I never thought, at 41, that I’d be so worried about money that $10 seems like a lot of money. Being this broke is not cool.
**************As bad as things feel sometimes as of late, I never thought I would make it to this age. I guess I’m beating my odds. Not too bad.
***************And, it is a blessing and grace to be loved as much as I am.
Put the pen down and fold the undershirts.
…Dizzy and more than a little disoriented I made my way down Sutter Street to the entrance of the Galleria Mall Food Court, a rather upscale “cheap eats” for the corporate crowd — of whom I used to be a participating member. I’ve never quite understood the San Francisco Galleria. Is it retail? Is it business? Is it swank condo living? Is it a hotel? All I know is that the homeless get shoo’d away almost immediately (most likely our Gestapo, uh, I mean mayor, is having them whisked off to some scary-ass shelter for medical experimentation) …but I digress.
Anyway, I had drop’d my magical iPod into my murse as I stepped on to the narrow Galleria escalator. I leaned on the side of the escalator railing a bit too hard which trigger’d my iPod on and up to the very top volume! It was so loud I jumped and yanked the ear buds out! To my horror the buds were booming out Barbra Streisand, Michael Crawford and cast belting “Put On Your Sunday Clothes” …not exactly an act of coolness or a good way to distract attention. And, attention is exactly what it brought me. In the form of a lovely older lady who was riding in front of me. As I tried to scramble without losing my balance to find my iPod and spare the corporate masses the soundtrack to Bab’s 1969 movie,
“Oh my God! I love that song! That has got to be from the movie soundtrack, right?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m trying to turn it down!
“Oh, no! You’ve made my day! I remember when my mom bought the record. That was her favorite movie!”
“Really? I always forget he was in it.”
“Sure. No problem.”
I handed her my iPod and she placed the buds in her jewel-stone’d ears. People look so much better when they smile. We should all remember that. There is just something attractive about a smile.
“Oh, you have really made my day! Is the soundtrack really on CD?”
“Yeah, but you would probably have to find it on Amazon or EBay. I’m not sure if it is still in print.”
“Oh, I have to get it! I used to want my hair to look just like Barbra’s from that movie! I remember not believing my mother when she would try to tell me it was just a wig! I love Barbra! I don’t run into many gay guys who like her that much anymore! Mostly just me and my girlfriends. We rented a limo to see her on tour last year! My husband thought we were nuts!”
“That is awesome!”
“Did you see her when she came?”
“What!?!? What was wrong with you?!?! It was incredible!”
I took back my iPod and pressed “pause”
“I’m going to give away my age, but I saw ‘Hello Dolly’ at the movies when it came out. I was nine years old. Jesus!” “Well, thank you! Let me buy you some lunch and you can explain how you managed to miss seeing Barbra in concert.”
“Oh, thank you. But, I need to get going…” I was feeling so clammy and panicked. As per usual of late, I wasn’t sure why — but, I needed to get away.
“But, you were coming up the escalator.”
“I know. I guess I got confused.” …feeling horribly rude.
“Well, sweetie, have a great day!”
I turned and stepped on the narrow escalator to return to the street level. There was a gaggle of upscale str8 20-something business men all in pressed three piece suits. Maybe it wasn’t a gaggle. Can four be a gaggle?!?!? Anyway, and without warning, they all turned to the left waiving hysterically —
“Bill! Hey, Bill!”
I turned to the left and saw a nervous man giving a feeble waive and quickly retreating into a door I had never noticed.
“Bill! Toss us some money, dude!” …and, all four of the gaggle laughed.
Then it hit me. That nervous fellow looked a lot like Bill Gates. Had that really been Bill Gates or just someone who looked a great deal like him? I guess I will never know, but this only stirs up more questions about The Galleria off Sutter Street. I walked across the street and down to the post office to mail a card to my brother.
Who knew such adventures could happen on a set of escalators?!??! ***tho, i put much in quotes — I was quite off-balance at the time and I’m not sure I got everything exactly correct, but it is all close enough that I’m tossing out the rules and putting in the quotation marks!
I’m not sure what made me think of it, but there was a vid-clip created for Unkle a while back. I find it somehow inspiring — the man (a bum? a crazy? an anger filled individual?) refuses to give the way of the road. He refuses to let the cars keep him down. And, in the end, he triumphs. He builds a sort of strength beyond chrome – beyond steel.
Maybe we all build up a sort of strength beyond the road blocks life presents. Maybe we all need to learn to not give up the road without a fight. …the song is from Unkle’s Psychic Vision LP: A pal recently introduced me to a new word: “Discotastic” I wish everything and everyone could be discotastic. I hope you have a discotastic week!!!…and, I was listening to Sebestian Tellier’s new work while I created this post: …I rather like it!! And, I rather love the cheesy-chic cover for the sleeve! How can one not love it?!?!?
…this is a great book of an on-going art project that not only inspires me, but manages to make me marvel at the endless possibilities of us. It can be found every where and will cost you about twenty bucks. I promise you will not be sorry you spent it.
Anyway, I had my first therapy appointment yesterday. It was rough. B had to sit with me on the stoop of the Castro Victorian from which she works for about ten minutes. I just couldn’t walk. But, I actually felt hope for the first time in over two months. This therapist has been working with adult men and young boys who have been sexually molested for over twenty years. I felt comfortable and safe there.
And, she actually seemed to understand what I meant when I attempted to describe this constant sensation that has been shrouding me for over eight months. …this feeling that I’m trapped in a bubble. Like I’m stuck in some horrible dream in which I am watching everything happen to me but I’m not really “here” or “there” or participating. I’ve always dealt with this sensation, but this has been the first time it seems to never go away. This feeling is with me 24/7 — only when I’m lost in cinema screening or find myself with B or friends and laughing does it go away. But, as soon as I realize that I feel “normal” it returns. I often just put on music I love and hold Bagel.
Lately, I’ve wanted to just bash my head against a wall or with a hammer just to be sure I am actually here. Doctors have been nodding their heads and muttering something about an extreme dis-associative disorder or some such, but they just never seem to get it. This therapist did and seems committed to fighting with me to bust out of this bubble. I see her again next week. It will be an even more challenging session because I will need to fully discuss what happened when I was ages 4 to 9. I know we have to do it, tho. So, deep in take of air and push forward.
I have to say, tho. I was starting to feel I had no more push left. I just want my life back. Thank God for B and all those who love me enough to put up with my limitations these days. And, my Bagel. …and, all the music that keeps me rolling. …speaking of which, B and I were in this East Bay town the other day and I found this LP in a bin!!!! When I was a kid Showtime seemed to play this lame Robby Benson movie on an endless loop. But, I always loved the theme song sung by Seals & Croft! The rest of the record is really bad, but I do so love that one song — “My Fair Share”
Anyway, let’s hope therapy can break me out of this bubble! The therapist was also able to review my medication. I’ve gotten my second opinion. She feels that the medication is correct given my current circumstances. However, she was obviously upset that Kaiser had failed to provide any therapy to actually help the medication do what it should be doing.
She also indicated that my blacking out, losing time, confusion and general klutziness is due to “the bubble” and lack of quality sleep more than the medication. By the way, this is all my wording.
Well, enough of that. I’m thinking of posting my “crazy person” collage artwork I’ve been doing. Ing promised me that it was OK and that WordPress would not be able to stop all the galleries and museums from pursuing me for art showings! So, I’m relieved about that. I’d hate to allow my blog to shoot down my career as a great artiste! I just have to figure out how to photograph them so that they capture all the artistic detail and merit of my obsessions!
This is what was playing as I created this post which I will not be reviewing for mistakes for fear that I will be too embarrassed to post it if I look at it! (shut up! it really IS a great album!!!) Oh, and Happy Valentines Day!
For the last couple of days I’ve been playing this and another LP a lot. I found both for very cheap at a tiny record store in the city that I really love. Anyway, what is interesting is that neither record is great. However, there is something addictive about both of them. The LP above was released in the early 70’s. A sort of Donovan-esque retreat into trippy hippie music. I love the idea of following Alice into adventures which is sort of what Mark Fry was doing when he sat around Italy in the years of 1968 to 1973 and made this record.
From what I can gather it has been a highly sought after record by collectors. Mark Fry no longer records as far I can find — he has become a rather successful artist in Europe. He was certainly dreamy enough to grace the covers of Tiger Beat. But, his record is like a dream. Just sort of quiet with harmonies hard to find upon first listen. …and this is the other record which has been getting a lot of play on my way cool player. Once again, this is not a really great bit of recording work but there is something quietly seductive and sexy about the way Kristofferson and Coolidge mixed their voices. Distant, but close at the same time. The music is simple but manages to wind the musical mind around some fairly complex thought. As I listen to both of these records I find myself relaxing and wishing I could have a glass of wine or bit of weed.
…so that I could really close my eyes and follow Alice and her rabbit down the hole into adventures of the mind rather the horror show of my memories.
Well, Bagel appears to be recovering quite well from her “spaying” spa session. Poor baby. We spent the whole weekend in with her. We opted to not leave her overnight with the vet since they were not going to have anyone on all night duty watching the boarded pets.
Our little princess demands attention! Also, what ever there were — God forbid — a fire! Worse yet, I kept thinking that Bagel would have to need some form of pain medication during the night. And, I was correct on that score!
I don’t think it really fair to cut out someone’s girlie parts, sew her up and leave her in a cage for 12 hours. Just seemed wrong to me.
So, we made a huge bed on the living room floor and waited on Bagel all the weekend long! Turns out Bagel really enjoys being hand fed. Who knew? Seriously, tho. The poor baby was confused, uncomfortable, afraid, jumpy and in need of lots of TLC!
So jumpy was Poor Little Bagel that I had to cancel a scheduled karaoke competition with Ing and Miss S! I phoned them to let them know that I had to cancel. They didn’t seem appropriately upset or bummed-out. I informed them and then they both told me that this last minute cancellation not only ruined their weekend but was threatening to ruin their entire year! I felt really bad. But my singing is known to send Bagel running round in circles — I dare to think what might happen when Ing and Miss S. perform a duet of “Material Girl”!
Anyway, the real trouble for Bagel started yesterday. She was in her cone and started yelping something fierce. It took us a while to figure it out, but it would appear that Bagel is having some major irritation with her diddle — or, vagine in medical terms.
We were afraid to remove her cone for fear that she might paw at her spay incision. And, then it struck us that Poor Little Bagel had not really urinated all day! After much discussion, it was decided that one of us was required to give Bagel a hand.
Yes, I massaged my dog’s vagina.
It was as if I had given her a dog treat direct from God. And, within about a minute of my stopping — she pee’d up a storm on her wee pad!
However, nothing will ever remove the stigma of dirty that I still feel. A few minutes later, she began making a horrible screeching noise and writhing about on the bed we had made her — I am queasy even writing it but Poor Little Bagel was spread eagle and begging for more relief. It took no discussion at that point — off came the cone — and, Poor Little Bagel was free to provide her own form of relief. Not wanting Bagel to be in any danger, pain, discomfort or to become a doggie porn star — I phoned the vet this morning. Seems that a vaginal infection does sometime happen. We are to watch her thru tomorrow and if it hasn’t taken care of it itself we are to bring her in tomorrow afternoon for the vet to take a look and most likely prescribe some form of anti-biotic.
It does seem to be getting better. But, I find that Bagel and I are still a little uncomfortable around each other. I will be so happy when she is back to her bouncy puppy self. She is still crying from time-to-time. I’m not sure if it is from her confusion over her discomfort or the fact that I skidled with her tiny diddle.
I just don’t know. …but, I do love my dog. …Just not in that way.