The Iliad room

The Iliad room sounds like the Beatles: Rocky Raccoon, We Can Work It Out, the entirety of Rubber Soul. The Iliad room resounds with tapping: computer keys, fingers, feet. The Iliad room is huge in my 15-year-old mind. All my heroes populate the sofa, except the one lying under the composition table. He's close to recovery. We all think we are.

Nothing beats getting drunk with my best Fuckface the day before New Year's. Hallelujah!

But the great news is ...

Liz is bringing, among other goodies, pigs in a blanket for our New Year's party! Hot damn!

So this is what passes for conversation around here

ADAM (sounding very excited): I'm going to put peanut butter on a rice cake.
ME (lots of pig noises)
HIM: It's dinner. Suck my cock.

"We did shitloads of Candyland and Chutes and Ladders."

- My mom on childhood play. For some reason I found this funny.

All I Want

Listening to Toad the Wet Sprocket on internet radio. They were big when I was in college, and in fact were from Santa Barbara. My college roommate had an English professor who would every so often refer to "my son's band Toad."

I love those guys. I listened to them when I lived within blocks of the beach. I listened to them and got all morose while living in North Platte, Nebraska, a 22-year-old who couldn't figure out why the fuck she'd moved to Hicksville. I listen to them now, at 33, when I cook dinner in my kitchen in Berkeley, Calif.

I feel like I've learned a lot since I first heard "All I Want", but I don't feel older. Does that make sense?

RIP: Tatiana the Tiger

I've always hated zoos. I also despise little thugs who think it's cute to taunt animals. Needless to say, the San Francisco Zoo story really gets to me.

The only one I feel sorry for is the tiger.

Had a lot of fun tonight. Dinner at Cafe Zoetrope with Joseph and his friends Brenda and Dave, then over to Steps of Rome for dessert before calling it a night. 'Twas cool.

FUCK, I miss Tokyo. I miss how utterly engaged I was while I was there. Like nothing else mattered. Because it didn't.

My mom has a saying: "I'm not a mind-reader."

My father has a saying: "I'm not a member of the Psychic Friends Network."

These family homilies come to mind as I ponder what the hell happened to Carl. I thought he'd be the one to be stoked about swapping Tokyo stories. He's the one who's been there twice. When Adam and I booked the trip, I thought Carl was even more excited than we were.

He's been a super-flake ever since I got home.

"Maybe he's bummed," Adam said yesterday. "Maybe it's the holidays."

Okay, but if the way that you deal with your bummed-ness is to push your friends away, don't expect they'll be waiting when you wake the fuck back up.

William and the fall of Java Rama

Java Rama's one of Alameda's gems: a comfortable coffee shop with free wifi, tasteful colors, in the middle of the action on Park Street.

Lately the action has included William, a Gentleman of Unfortunate Tendencies. Adam seems to think the guy suffers from Down's Syndrome. In any event, it's obvious that not everything is firing on all cylinders up there.

William hangs out at Java Rama constantly. He's there every time I am, every time our friend Dave stops by the cafe. He dances and sings. He high-fives everyone. And when he's off his meds, he's pretty much on the ceiling.

I subscribe to a fair bit of live-and-let-live, but I think the owners of Java Rama have a responsibility both to themselves and to their clientele to get this one in hand. Also, where are the people who are supposed to be taking care of this guy? It's pretty damn sad that he's left to roam the city of Alameda by himself 24/7. He's lucky most people are pretty tolerant. Me, I keep my headphones and I ignore him, or try to at any rate.

I'm glad I'm working on this project as much as I am. I'm glad I'm giving it so much attention and thought, even if about 95 percent of it is trial and error. It's good to feel like you've wrangled with something you care about. It means someday you just may win.

Why?

Why do I grind my teeth about Adam's relationship with his sister, when it's his business and his relationship and, really, none of my concern? Why, when I've worked so hard to have my family relations the way I want them and -- even if they're not perfect -- they're at a point I can live with?

Why am I so angry that she won't meet him halfway, at his level, and then tells him how upset she is that they're not close and that it's his fault? Why should I care?

Going forward, I don't. That's what I'm going to tell myself until I believe it. Going forward, I don't.

Now here's a Kundera quote!

"All great novels, all true novels, are bisexual."

I love hanging out with my dear Adam!

Hello from Davis

So very chill today ... many students gone, right after finals and before Christmas. Drove through Fairfield on the way up. Fairfield's a depressing place. I should know. I worked at the Daily Republic for the first two years (and two months, to be exact) that I lived in the Bay Area. Lots of Bible-thumpers and small minds. Yuck.

But Davis rocks!

"Oh, money shot ... that's all you got? Lame!"

Nothing caps a Saturday night like listening to Adam heckle some Japanese porn.

Alpha and beta

In pairs of dogs there comes the alpha, the one who head-butts the other out of the way so it, too, can get attention. Without fail.

I always prefer the beta.

Relationship meme

1. Who eats more?
He does. I call him Animal Planet because watching him eat really is like watching two wild African wildebeests tear into something or other (possibly each other).

2. Who said “I love you” first?
He did.

3. Who is the morning person?
Neither of us. He's more functional in the morning, but I'm more likely to be out and about earlier.

4. Who sings better?
That would be me.

5. Who’s older?
Again, that would be me.

6. Who’s smarter?
Depends on whose mother you ask.

7. Whose temper is worse?
Oh god, mine. Gotta watch that.

8. Who does the laundry?
We take turns. Since his contract ended, he's been a better househusband than me, but when he's office-bound, I'm pretty decent at it.

9. Who does the dishes?
Both of us.

10. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
Me.

11. Whose feet are bigger?
Actually, I think it's a toss-up. We wear each other's shoes. I'll wait a minute for you audience members out there to finish throwing up.

12. Whose hair is longer?
He claims it's mine: "Yours reaches down to your titties." Thanks.

13. Who’s better with the computer?
Him, by a long shot.

14. Do you have pets?
He has a cat who I occasionally feed.

15. Who pays the bills?
Both of us. We've never had a fight about money, at least not that I can remember.

16. Who cooks dinner?
We cook together. What, you're puking again?

17. Who drives when you are together?
He's a freaking hog. Good thing he costs too much to insure on my car or else he'd drive that all the time too.

18. Who pays when you go out to dinner?
We take turns.

19. Who’s the most stubborn?
We would each insist that we are, which should tell you something.

20. Who is the first one to admit when they’re wrong?
I think that's me, actually. Maybe that means I'm wrong more often?

21. Whose family do you see more?
About equal.

22. Who named your pet?
Whoever owned him before I did.

23. Who kissed who first?
We haven't gotten to that point yet.

24. Who asked who out?
Oh, god. If you have to ask that question, you really don't know our history.

25. What did you do on your first date?
Had dinner at La Med in Elmwood, then went to The Starry Plough. Then we went back to my place and I tried to read him Pablo Neruda, which didn't take.

26. Who’s more sensitive?
Me. Lucky him.

27. Who’s taller?
Him. Lucky me.

28. Who has more friends?
Me. He's more accepting of people, but I'm better at connecting with people and also with keeping in touch.

29. Who has more siblings?
That would be me.

30. Who wears the pants in the relationship?
The cat. Adam never wears pants.

My God! I'm 6 years old again!

Flaky friends

Ever since I've come home, both Carl and Joseph have been entirely off the radar. Multiple phone calls, emails, nothing. What gives?

ME: I'm sick of this. I'm going to tell everyone, the thing's at McDonald's, you show up and order your Big Mac. And you don't need no large fries.

ADAM: I love your inner voice.

Getting some professional props

I don't often write about work here, but I was happy to receive an email from Jacob Cynamon this morning. Jacob thanked me for my work on the Commercial Property News message boards and pointed me to his own blog, where he gave CPN a thumbs-up (though not without some constructive criticism, which is always helpful). Thanks, Jacob!

Written on a Japanese love-hotel condom

MAKE LOVE

In the soft light through the window, its shape is clear. The breeze carries its scent. Now, for you. She is still but a nameless, new kind of orchid.

Culture shock

It's pretty tough coming back from 10 days in a considerate culture to the reality of America (and Berkeley in particular) -- the everyone-express-themselves-at-all-times atmosphere. Everyone on cell phones, talking loudly, without any concern for those around them. I don't want to live in Japan, but it sure would be nice to have a little bit of that consideration back here at home.

iPod doubles as a fish tank

I'm really disgusted.

The iPond - up to 15 times smaller than the recommended tank size for the fish it contains - is proving a hit with Christmas shoppers.

One Sydney store has sold out of the $70 device and other outlets are reporting brisk sales.

But the RSPCA has called on the device to be banned because it is too small to provide fish with adequate oxygen supplies and a clean environment.

Is it any wonder I like the animal kingdom better than the human one?

Saudi king "pardons" rape victim

The girl won't have to suffer 6 months in jail and 200 lashes after being gang-raped. How kind of the king.

I am not politically correct. I find some cultures, and many cultural practices, beyond despicable. Thank God I grew up where and how I did.

God, Billy Joel is so sly. I'd do him if given half a chance.

Austin in January

We're booked for the trip -- Jan. 17-20. I perform at the FronteraFest on Jan. 18. We've also found a beautiful cottage that's very near the theater -- perfect!

Randoms

I'm glad we went to the gym. It feels good.

The Strobe Cafe, where we hung out in Shimokita, has a blog. No English, but a picture of the cheery Charlie Brown-esque latte that cost nearly $7.

Finally, as I search for another doctor and cross my fingers this time, I will say it again: Clinton Young should be ashamed of the poor care he provides his patients. Or, rather, this patient. Five-second doctor visits costing $300, little hope for anything positive. Yes, Dr. Young, you should be ashamed, and I hope that people who read this blog will choose more competent services over yours.

Diablo Cody and demanding dog owners

I was there with her until I read this: "Cody has likened herself to a naked Margaret Mead." Indeed. I'm sure Mead would be heartened by the comparison. Honey, you're a blogger and ex-stripper and perhaps some sort of prodigy, but please, don't pull some Terence Trent D'Arby bullshit just yet.

Then there's this morning's New York Times story on entitled dog owners, pretty much meant to incite rage over one's ten o'clock latte. I'll just say it rings some bells and leave it at that.

Adam and I just had a debate over whether coughing makes farting better. Good to know our college degrees have gone toward something.

Sushi near the Tokyo Fish Market

Home

With granny gown for me and bathrobe for Adam, and cat and smiling Mike for both. Ordering in Chinese at 4, twin laptops for now.

And another for now ... the Pet Shop Boys.

Home and Dry
Pet Shop Boys

So my baby's on the road
doing business, selling loads
charming everyone there
with the sweetest smile

Oh tonight
I miss you
Oh tonight
I wish you
could be here with me
but I won't see you
'til you've made it back again

Home and dry
Home and dry

There's a plane at JFK
to fly you back from far away
all those dark and frantic
transatlantic miles

Oh tonight
I miss you
Oh tonight
I wish you
could be here with me
but I won't see you
'til you've made it back again

Home and dry
Home and dry

Far away
through night and day
you fly long haul tonight
Come to me
you know I'll be here
when you call tonight

Oh tonight
I miss you
Oh tonight
I wish you
could be here with me
but I won't see you
'til you've made it back again

Home and dry
Home and dry

Last night in Tokyo

We came, we explored, we ate, we drank, we fought, we made up again. We laughed way more than should be legal. Tomorrow at 2 am PST, we'll be leaving this weird and wonderful place. See you on the other side!

A note on the photos

Sure enough, they're not all from Tokyo. Some are from Costa Rica, and others from home. I haven't properly organized my Flickr account, and I won't until I get home. Enjoy.

Passion in Shibuya

For 7000 yen, you too can go to Passion. You can enjoy the round bed and sparkling lights in the mirrored area above said bed. For 7000 yen you can soak in a heart-shaped tub, play Super Mario Brothers on the original Nintendo (albeit for a limited time) and take in the unique local culture in sexually explicit film. You can also buy "Super Sexy Panties" (or something close to that) from an in-room vending machine, and be amused by a non-working pachinko game, also in-room.

Or so I'm told.

Adam, this morning

"Can you check the weather? It was cold when I went outside to shower."

More pictures!

They're right here. We're waking up and battling sore throats, both of us. Does curry rice really have that effect?

Yoyogi Park, Harajuku, and a few classic lines ...

Today we went to Yoyogi Park, Tokyo's answer to Central Park, and Harajuku, teenybopper haven. Both were great. We saw, among other things, the Tokyo Rockabillies performing ... Japanese Elvis-ish sort of characters. Here's a good representation of the things you might see around there. Good times.

A few great lines from Adam today:

"It's like Leonard's of Yoyogi." - Referring to the Meiji Shrine, where they perform Shinto wedding ceremonies in almost assembly-line style. My mother once told us that Leonard's of Great Neck, on Long Island, does it much this way.

"My best guess is that it's a Shabu-Shabu air freshener." - On some incomprehensible thingamajig at the 100 Yen shop.

"Shut up, you pretentious bitch." - Actually, that was the other day at Hase-dera, after I commented that the place reminded me "of Ashland (Oregon) and Zakopane (Poland)." I do love being put in my place.

Tokyo pix on Flickr

They're collected here. Enjoy. Great day, which means tired night. Going to watch some Shawn of the Dead and pass out.

Shimokitazawa

Going here today. The Greenwich Village of Tokyo. Sounds awesome to me!

Adam's sick. I'm sick. We came to Tokyo still sick. Is it any wonder we get pissed at each other now and again? Next time I plan an international trip, I'll make sure we're not going to be out of town doing the family thing beforehand.

God, Andy Ross, shut the fuck up.

Listening to the now-former owner of Cody's Books carp about the poor reading habits of young'uns makes me want to firmly put my hands around his neck.

Listen, for example, to this:

"My vision was of how Cody's on Telegraph was in the 1980s - a great intellectual bookstore," Ross said. "Anything that was intelligent, we could sell. It really worked in the '80s but it doesn't work now. Young people aren't coming in. They aren't reading the way they were. People don't have the patience to sit down with a 300-page novel or a 500-page work of history when they are used to getting information from Wikipedia."

Please. I see people around Berkeley -- and San Francisco, and many other places -- with books in their hands. Big books. Substantial books. Interesting, unique pieces with information that they may have found on Wikipedia but instead are discovering in print.

Andy, don't blame your poor business practices on the supposedly bad reading habits of a younger generation. You're misguided. You claim you lost a million dollars or more in 10 years while still in the Telegraph store. You not only closed that store, but the one in Union Square. You're telling me this all has to do with the fact that people no longer read, rather than the fact that you had a hard time keeping a head for business? Did you learn this technique from your sullen friends from across town, Black Oak Books?

Funny how your former next-door neighbor and competitor, Moe's, still seems to be alive and kicking, Andy. That's probably at least in part because Moe's "embraced the internet" (as the Chronicle puts it) long before Cody's ever even considered the possibility.

Whither the love hotels?

I love Japanese love hotels. I love the idea that you can nip in with someone special -- or someone special for that afternoon -- and have at it for a few hours. Not only that, but have at it in what is quite possibly the most insanely done-up room you've ever seen?

If certain bureaucrats have their way, the boom may be lowered on love hotels. Jesus, people! Were you born in a vacuum? Your mom and dad screwed somewhere along the way ... maybe even in one of those gaudy places up on Dogenzawa hill.

Adam and I decided on a room that glowed under blacklight. The wallpaper was pastel and bedecked with stars. There was single-serving wrapped everything -- toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, soap, shampoo, and of course, condoms. There was a hair dryer. There was a huge shower. There was a deep, deep one-person (or two small Japanese people) tub. There were special bathroom slippers, as is Japanese custom.

The bed had a padded headboard and myriad switches, a few of which operated musical selections coming from the overhead speaker. The others operated the blacklight, headboard light with dimmer, and ceiling lights. The remote control operated the tv, which offered a rolling loop of Japanese porn selections. Konnichiwa!

We pretty much laughed throughout it all. How could you not?

Snippets

- Sitting right now, Adam snoring next to me on the futon, listening to Japanese people sing karaoke from downstairs.
- Telling a "talking owl" toy (who repeats what you tell it) being sold to tourists near Hase-Dera: "I want some bling!" and getting a laugh from the locals. I love making people laugh, even when we don't speak the same language! I guess bling is universal.

Awesome.

Tokyo thoughts

Was talking to Matt, one of Rose's roommates, tonight. "You think the Japanese are polite?" he asked. "They treat you like a celebrity, they treat you like a guest, but that gets old. They're polite, but they're really thinking, this guy's a douchebag."

I can see that. It's nice to be around a polite society -- especially given some of my frustrations with the Bay Area -- but I can imagine that the idea of face would get old if I lived here. Then again, Matt did mention the idea of a "gaijin pass" (exemptions for foreigners), so maybe that would work in my favor. At any rate, I'm not thinking of moving to Tokyo (at least not right now), but I do plan to read some Donald Richie on Matt's recommendation to learn more about the culture.

So far we've been to:

- Takadanobaba, the university area where we're staying
- Akihabara, the huge electronics town and nerd locus
- Jimbocho, one of the largest collections of used bookstores anywhere (unfortunately, not much was in English)
- Shinjuku, the red-light district and watering-hole area
- Shibuya, the more upper-class party area that winds up into ...
- Love Hotel Hill. I'll just smile and leave it at that.
- Kamakura, which we visited as a day trip today. I found a pretty comprehensive blog post about the area, complete with pictures of Daibatsu and Hase-dera, shrines that we visited while in the area. I found Hase-dera by far the most interesting. It's a shrine to the unborn children -- miscarriages, abortions, the ones wanted and not wanted, but all loved and missed. Extremely touching. It's also totally beautiful. Great views, especially getting toward sunset.

Being here, I'm reminded once again of why I love travel: I'm taken outside myself and pulled back in, at which point I get bitchy and crabby as I mull my flaws and how I need to wrangle with them. If you look at it right, it's an awesome opportunity.

One more thing: Adam is an awesome travel partner. We've always done great together. I really do love him more every day.

More

I'm on closed-circuit TV in Akihabara.
Adam apres-love hotel, Shibuya.
Akihabara.
Akihabara.

Not far from Waseda University.

And more Tokyo visuals

Have you heard of Japanese toilets? They're simply amazing.
Kitty cat and wire bike basket.
Taxi?
Adam and I at the curry house.

Jimbocho.

More Tokyo visuals

Takadanobaba Station.
Suntory Boss is the boss of them all. Since 1992.
Blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun.
Akihabara.

The kanji keyboard.

The Tokyo visuals

On the Narita Express coming in from the airport.
Adam and Tokyo.
Choice of beverages.
Shakey's Pizza.
Us and Tokyo.

I love what I do for a living

It's 2:30 am, Thursday morning, in Tokyo. I'm posting blog entries for one of my clients.

How can I work halfway around the world on a whim? I work for myself. I didn't have to ask for any time off. And when my clients heard what I was doing and where I was going, they all said the same thing: "Have a great trip!"

I worked hard to get to where I am. And I love it.

Things to remember from today

The very dignified older Japanese businessmen talking shop at Bad Ass Coffee.

The Japanese girl in front of us as we walked down the subway stairs, wearing a hoodie that said "Black for Life."

The drink list at Garlic Chips, which included the Sea Bleeze and the Meron Ball. I had the Green Banana Fizz. It gave me a new lease on life.

Hello from Japan.

I'm sitting in a bedroom in Takadanobaba, listening to off-key karaoke from the bar next door. This place is crazy. Crazy beyond crazy, and I'm having an awesome time.

Bleary. Two hours sleep. Watching this:



We take off at 11. Can't frigging wait to be there.

And the weather in Tokyo is ...

Right here. Soon I'll be seeing it for myself.

Great Adam line

"Woody Allen is the Dan Joseph of comedies."

You'd probably have to know both gentlemen to get it.

Looking at random wedding photos online

ME: Is that the bride?
ADAM: Is she missing some teeth?
ME: Hey. Toothless people deserve love too.

Adam and I have a plan for Tokyo: We're back to being friends with benefits. We're the just-became-lovers running off suddenly to another country. We're going to have a blast.

Read my mind

Maybe a month and a half ago, I got into this video. Seriously into it. It showed a place I'd never been and never much considered. It showed a city different from anything I'd ever known. It showed Tokyo.

Adam and I fly there on Monday.

Adam has a saying: People are morons.

Either he's more cynical than I am, or simply more realistic.

Falling in love with Adam took one kiss.

I tried to rationalize.

I could see dating him ...
I could see something casual ...
I could see something fun ...

But it was beyond that. It was whammo. I'd fallen, and I would never quite get back up again. I fell in love beyond anything I'd ever previously experienced. And he wasn't mine to have.

So I dated. I dated nice guys, professionals, smart and charming and interesting. Guys who were challenging, funny, and available. I told him about each one and he would just smile or laugh and I would think does he care?

Then things changed.

I was nearing my 30th birthday and I'd decided to stop fucking around. I got into grad school. I got my career shit together. I started caring about who I was and how I was treated.

Our friendship got rocky. We fought. Finally we had a heated phone conversation in which he told me "Fuck you!" and if I hadn't been sitting, I would've fallen down with surprise.

Then I stopped talking to him. For three weeks he called and text messaged. For three weeks I ignored him.

Then I sold my car. I sold the 1987 Toyota Celica, white with a frayed black convertible top, that he'd loved to drive. I'd bought my Corolla. The Celica was old news. I emailed him to let him know.

I sold it, I wrote. I figured there was no point in keeping two around.

Soon he fell too.

There is no explaining how much fucking work -- and just plain magic -- has gone into this relationship. I loved him before he was mine to love, and I still love him with everything I have. I have no business expecting anyone other than us to understand this, but I still keep hoping.

Feeling crappy. Sore throat, achy, intermittently feverish. I'm going to pound the Dayquil because not only can I afford to get behind on work, but I leave the country in less than a week.

I loved reading this:

The sheer size and frenetic pace of Tokyo can intimidate the first-time visitor. Much of the city is a jungle of concrete and wires, with a mass of neon and blaring loudspeakers. At rush hour, crowds jostle in packed trains and masses of humanity sweep through enormous and bewilderingly complex stations. Don't get too hung up on ticking tourist sights off your list: for most visitors, the biggest part of the Tokyo experience is just wandering around at random and absorbing the vibe, poking your head into shops selling weird and wonderful things, sampling restaurants where you can't recognize a single thing on the menu (or on your plate), and finding unexpected oases of calm in the tranquil grounds of a neighbourhood Shinto shrine. It's all perfectly safe, and the locals will go to sometimes extraordinary lengths to help you if you just ask.

I never have any travel plans. Wandering is what I do.

While Adam and I were having our Starbucks wedding conversation yesterday, I realized that the people who typically are opinionated in weddings -- mothers -- have not been when it's come to us. Both of our mothers have basically said mazel tov, you tell us when and where and we'll be there. Awesome!

Who you tryin to get crazee wid, ese?
Don't you know I'm loco?

- Cypress Hill

Something borrowed, something boozed

On the way home from Southern California yesterday, Adam and I stopped for coffee and stood outside in the windy warmth, holding our paper Starbucks cups. "We wanted the easiest, most low-key thing possible," I said. "I thought if anyone could pull it off, it would be us."

"I know," he said.

I'm learning that a wedding, no matter how low-key, opens the door to everyone's opinions and preferences:

Why are you ...
Why aren't you ...
Why don't you invite ...
Why can't you have it here ...
Why can't you have it on this date ...
Why aren't you doing it the way we did it?

It could be that a wedding is a ritualistic opening of the relationship to everyone for their buy-in, a public seeking of approval. In any event, I have two very strong and conflicting feelings:

- The party's going to be great.
- If I had the chance to do it again, I probably wouldn't have the damn party at all.

Home

The car is parked, Oliver is purring, dinner will be eaten sometime soon. We are home. I am glad.

Get out the map
Get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
Well leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
I'm gonna clear my head
I'm gonna drink that sun
I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young

- Indigo Girls

Spent the night hanging out at my brother's with his roommates and buddies, smoking hookah and watching Ghost in a Teeny Bikini. Beautiful.

My mother cleaned out the garage and found a school journal I apparently kept in either second or third grade. An excerpt:

February 26, 1982. I would like to be a puppy because they are very cute and fluffy and people like them a lot. People are not scared of them. I would not like anyone to be scared of me. A puppy can run free in the street. But most of all, people would love me A LOT.

Hello, San Diego

Listening to my mother's insane stories from the ER while she makes dinner. Happy Thanksgiving!

"These days, delays at Kennedy are so bad, he said, 'They're backing up the entire country.' "

Gee, I wouldn't know anything about that.

This story has the greatest picture!

I love monkeys!

“ 'There’s a difference between love as it is presented in movies and music as this jazzy sexy thing that involves bikini underwear and what love actually turns out to be,' said the psychologist Mary Pipher, whose book 'Another Country' looked at the emotional life of the elderly. 'The really interesting script isn’t that people like to have sex. The really interesting script is what people are willing to put up with.'”

A really amazing New York Times article on the various meanings of love, up to and including Sandra Day O'Connor's extremely unselfish joy at her husband's discovery of new passion.

My experience? Sex isn't the difficult part. You're stoked when you find it with someone who's awesome, and you share that sizzle and those romps. Companionship is harder -- I'm marrying my best drinking buddy, and I'm stoked. Working through the tough shit -- the fights in the kitchen, the angry and turned back in the bed -- now that takes a hell of a lot.

Adam and I have had our share of strife. The upside is that that strife, nearly 95 percent of the time if not more, leads to a greater shared understanding of one another.

And to the occasional throwing of a remote control.

Great night

Hung out with Carl and Joseph in Russian Hill and had dinner at Miller's East Coast Deli on Polk. A little bit of NYC on the Left Coast. Carl and Joseph got along well, which wasn't surprising. It was a really fun time.

One for the quote file

When I make a documentary about you, there's going to be a whole chapter on farting. - Adam

No, the irony is not lost on me

Blogging about fighting through Facebook:

2:50 am: Adam pisses me off about something stupid.
2:51 am: I change my Facebook status to "Allison is wishing Adam would stop screwing with the software needed for her digital recorder and actually listen to the damn thing," or something stupid like that.
2:52 am: Snap at Adam.
2:53 am: Change status to "Allison is being petty."
2:56 am: Heartfelt conversation over. Grilled cheese is being made.
2:57 am: I change my Facebook status to "Allison is getting grilled cheese made for her."

I am so meta. I make myself barf.

Some people bring a book into the bathroom. Adam brings his MACbook. Sometimes I'm amazed at what I'm marrying.

I'm home!

US Air sucks balls, and for a while I thought I'd have to spend the night in Vegas (which if I were single would be fine, but when I have a boy waiting for me with Nation's burgers no less, I don't think so!), but I am HOME!

What an amazing, awesome trip. New York gives me tons of energy and confirms that I may yet be crazy, but I'm crazy in a New Yorker way, which makes it all right.

A few pictures for now. I hope to get the recording of my Speakeasy story up later today or tomorrow.

Speakeasy ruled!

It was wonderful. Thanks to Sherry, who coordinated it all, and Lisa, who not only came out from Bushwick to see it, but made sure I got to Veselka (where I am now) afterward.

I got a recording. It'll be posted soon, hopefully. Great, great night!

Tons of work coming up. Great for my bank balance, tough on my time. Since I don't plan to spend what little time remains in New York tied to my laptop, I'll have to put in my hours when I get home. And, more than likely, while in Southern Cal as well.

Speakeasy Stories tonight

It's at 8:30 pm. I'm nervous as always, but I like the story and I think it's perfect for the show.

It's raining here in New York. I had pierogies for lunch. I'm doing pretty darn well.

I love New York

Really, that is all that needs to be said.

What do YOU think we were talking about?

ADAM (squinting at the screen): Is she really a grandma? I don't believe she's a grandma.
ME (picking out some crappy song on YouTube): Dude. She can be like 15 and be a grandma.

Very appropriate for tonight

"Go East, Young Writers, For Theater!"

Tracy Chapman

I've been listening to Tracy Chapman a lot lately. I love her. I love her voice, her songs, her lack of pretense, her strength.

I've seen her perform live twice: at UC Berkeley's Greek Theater and at The Catalyst in Santa Cruz. Adam came with me to that second performance and I'd like to think I showed him the ways of the Tracy that night. Then again, I think he was just amused by the extremely polite Santa Cruz crowd and adorable gay men in the audience that night.

I cannot fucking wait to be in New York!

Work patterns

I blog a lot while I work. I surf the web too, and I check my email, and I send messages to my boyfriend, and I listen to YouTube videos. This would not be considered proper office etiquette. It is a damn good thing, then, that I do not work in an office, nor do I ever intend to do so again.

There is fiction in the space between
You and reality
You will do and say anything
To make your everyday life seem less mundane

- Tracy Chapman

The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds

Cut out of the sun. It started with this video -- sort of -- and in less than a month, I'm going to be in Tokyo!

A Matter of Trust

Listening to Billy Joel. This song puts me in a Brooklyn mood, no question.

He is trying to speak from the heart. But the heart is riddled with error upon error. The heart makes no grammatical sense. The heart has only flashes of linguistic flair.

- Marilyn Abildskov, The Men in My Country

A change of plan

I'm not going to talk about porn and PCOS at Speakeasy. Instead, I'm going to tell the Princess Carolyn story. Funnier, if a little less meaningful. Entertaining nonetheless.

Midway through watching U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name" on YouTube, Adam and I hear something.

ME: What the hell's that?
ADAM (not looking up from the computer): I dunno. Cats fucking.

Sure enough. Jesus, they're loud. On top of the Farm no less. I don't even think Oliver woke up. I doubt he remembers what it was like to have balls. I know human men who are probably much the same.

Oliver update

In real time -- because you wanted to know:

Just got off the phone with the Humane Society. Oliver's out of surgery and awake. The doctor's supposed to call in a few minutes to go over how it went.

ME: I'll bet he had extractions.
ADAM: That fucker.
ME: That fucker.

I'm seriously close to crying. With happiness. I hope everything went okay. Would it sound totally stupid to say I'm proud of him?

A teeth cleaning for Oliver

My 18-year-old tabby's at the Berkeley-East Bay Humane Society right now, getting his nasty teeth cleaned. It's a risky operation as they have to put him under (would YOU want to clean a cat's teeth while he was awake? I don't think so!) and an expensive one at that -- I'm looking at anywhere from $440-$840, depending on if there are extractions, and the number of extractions if any.

As long as that fucker comes out okay, I'm good. But as I told the vet assistant when she called to confirm the estimate: That guy can't even hold down a job!

Heard at tonight's reading

"The 21st century is a hoax."

Wow. Glad to see you know better than just about anyone else.

All I ever wanted from my life

Back from acting class, sitting warm and comfy on the couch between Adam and Oliver, getting ready to make PB&J and chocolate-chip cookies ... at quarter to midnight. Planning trips to New York, Tokyo, Prague and Budapest, with stops in Austin and Southern California along the way.

Also, listening to this song. Classic.

Homeland employee suspended for offensive Halloween costume

This is pretty fucked up. He or she deserves suspension. What an astonishing lack of judgment.

When I'm in NYC, I'm going to go meet with the folk at the TONY Lounge to check out the venue and talk possible collaborations in the future. I'm also going to query SF-area venues about longer runs. I'm on my way!

From Liz

In an email today:

"Tim said something really cool about the two of you last night... something along the lines of they look like they have tons of fun together doing great stuff. I think he hit the nail on the head."

Everyone's always telling Adam and I how great we are together. They're damn right.

CHERISH
by Raymond Carver

From the window I see her bend to the roses
holding close to the bloom so as not to
prick her fingers. With the other hand she clips, pauses and
clips, more alone in the world
than I had known. She won't
look up, not now. She's alone
with roses and with something else I can only think, not
say. I know the names of those bushes

given for our late wedding: Love, Honor, Cherish--
this last the rose she holds out to me suddenly, having
entered the house between glances. I press
my nose to it, draw the sweetness in, let it cling--scent
of promise, of treasure. My hand on her wrist to bring her close,
her eyes green as river-moss. Saying it then, against
what comes: wife, while I can, while my breath, each hurried petal
can still find her.

New York, here I come!

It's been an irritating week on a few fronts, so I'm looking forward to blowing off some steam at Sherry Weaver's excellent Speakeasy Stories on Nov. 15. I plan to tear off the roof and discuss my love of porn -- and, in particular, how it makes me want to be a real woman -- so bring some protective headgear and show up, won't you?

Cell phone jammers rise in popularity

“ 'If anything characterizes the 21st century, it’s our inability to restrain ourselves for the benefit of other people,' said James Katz, director of the Center for Mobile Communication Studies at Rutgers University.”

This story's been going on under the radar, so to speak, for years. Very interesting.

Central Park, Davis

At Berkeley Espresso

Adam looked at the computer screen, then at me. "I never would've done this before I met you," he said, laughing.

We're booked for Tokyo, Dec. 3-13.

Hiding out from the trick-or-treaters

ME: You're closing the curtains?
ADAM: When was the last time we did that?
ME: You're scared of a bunch of munchkins.
ADAM: I just don't want to disappoint.
ME: No, baby, you're just a pussy.

Fuck these guys

You race, you die. At least they only took themselves.

Makes me smile!

"I couldn't love you any more if I'd given birth to you," my mother told Adam the other night, "and I mean that. You two are so lucky to have found each other. Your relationship is one of the highlights of my life."

Adam's dad called the other night. "I'm glad you're getting married," he said. Simple and sincere. If I said I cried, would you laugh?

Dan to Adam and I

"I'm going to read boobies while you two have a fight."

Adam and I were talking the other day about what we want out of our lives, and how we want to be remembered. "I enjoyed life," he said, "and I made people happy."

I love him for that. I just feel like that should be said.

In grad school, I was taught that the best stories had a secondary meaning, that there was never just one layer to anything.

What's the deeper layer to why I'm up now and have been for the last two hours, pissed off?

The mature part of me says Bitch please, there are so many other important things to worry about -- and so much to be thankful for. It speaks in a voice that is slow and smooth, reasoned and balanced.

Then there's the pissed-off and true inner voice: Because why should I? Right now, that one sounds like the front story. Maybe after coffee it'll change.

Fun with a Macbook

A few weeks ago Adam went Mac. Here's the result.

Dead Man Camping

I've gotta go with the lede on this one. Sean Penn hits some good moments on "Into the Wild", but overall the cult of Penn pretension (or, as Adam puts it, reading from the book of Sean Penn 3:18) wore thin after nearly two and a half hours. Also, I can't say the main character was too endearing, or that I gave a damn that he gave up a $24K trust fund to go rough it and eventually croak from poison berries. Sorry for the spoiler. Also, here's a great rebuttal of the "Cult of Chris McCandless (main character)" by a park ranger. That's one guy who should know!

Could be worse. I could've been seeing Brokeback Mountain with Adam. Again. What a disaster that was. He took inspiration from Cartman's assertion that "independent films are always about gay cowboys eating pudding" -- and every time a climactic moment arose, he wanted to know if it was time for dessert. Beautiful.

Jesse Dillinger, you're an idiot

"Jesse Dillinger, who came to the neighborhood trying to find out whether a friend was safe, drove to the end of the cul-de-sac and paused in front of each burned-out hulk to snap a photo.

"She offered no apologies.

“ 'A reason why a lot of us will take pictures is it's part of our collective history now,' the marriage therapist said. “We all had a part in it. I think that's normal.' ”

Part of our collective history? Please. You fucking hippie. Have some respect.

Glad to see ...

That San Diego's back to being San Diego. From Craigslist:

Biff's house burned down..........

---

Reply to: pers-456513330@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-22, 1:06PM PDT


Larry Himmels house burned down.....If you are old enough to remember the "Biff and Skippy" T.V. show (bad). Then you must be pretty old...like me :)
Sorry Larry, hang in in there dude!

• Location: sd
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Firefighters are heroes

I have no other way of saying it other than on this dopey blog. Thank you, you brave men and women, for giving everything over the last few days!

'Imagine if Einstein had gotten a B on a test in school'

Bruce, pull through! We're coming to see you tonight.

What size gift will get me entry to her vageen?

Just ignore the "luvisfree.com" ad ...

Dixon: Home of the world's biggest corn maze!

I actually passed by the Cool Patch when I drove to Davis on Wednesday. Hey, you gotta have something in Dixon besides three traffic lights.

As the smoke clears

People lost their homes. People I know. Kasey Jeffcoat's family. I went to high school with Kasey. The first home Tracy Deebs owned with her husband, gone. I'll bet Anne Chen's old house on Locksley is gone, and the fires came damn close to where her family moved in Highlands Ranch. Two people dead, burned to death in their own home. Just seeing these names and thinking about what went on down there makes me so incredibly sad.

Typical conversation

ME: Way too much has been made of Charles Bukowski.
ADAM: Snort.
ME: What?
HIM: Nothin.

Allison Sandler Landa

I always knew I wouldn't drop Landa if ever I did get married. (Something I was never quite certain I'd do!)

Still, I wanted to take some element of Adam's name. Hence the new name when we do the deed: Allison Sandler Landa.

Some brides-to-be think about tablecloths and obsess on floral arrangements. Me, I just write my New Name on my notebooks like a giddy schoolgirl.

Of course, as Adam points out, there is always the option of combining our two names. Allison and Adam Slander?

I'm dying to find out about MacDowell. Damn it!

Some levity in the blaze

Hilarious!

Speakeasy Stories: Nov. 15!

SD fires continue to burn

I've been referring to the Union-Tribune forums and Brian's blog to get much of my information. It looks like the homes burned on Old Winery were up the hill from where I lived at 13306. I don't know any of those families, but does that matter? My heart goes out to them.

I'm very glad to see that the Bernardo Winery was probably spared, as was the DeFrancesco's house (I think).

I am also thankful to my clients, who have been very understanding in this tough time.

"There have been structure losses in northern Poway, overlooking Lake Hodges."

That could mean the home on Old Winery is no longer. I've heard from all my family members, though, which of course is the most important thing.

The words ringing through Poway at this minute

Jethro, get the Monet and pack up the SUV. We're hauling ass outta here!

San Diego fires

From the San Diego County Emergency website:

All residents east of Espola Road From Lake Poway Road through Valle Verde Road have been asked to evacuate immediately. This includes the High Valley , Bridlewood Country Estates, Stoneridge, Heritage, Old Coach and Old Winery neighborhoods.

The Old Winery neighborhood was the last place I lived in San Diego.

Talked to my family this morning. They're pretty much all packed up and ready should the evacuations come. They're calm, considering. Jesus.

And we didn't even really drink that much tonight.

ADAM: There's definitely some days I'd fuck a croissant.
ME: Some random shit about how retarded he is. Just fill in the blank.
ADAM: What, you'd never fuck a croissant?
ME: It's nothing I've ever considered.

One of the first dances

Will be this song. Ignore the dorky video and concentrate on Sting's amazing vocals.

A "safe injection" center in San Francisco

I'm really torn about this one.

On a practical level, though I would really rather my tax dollars not go to supporting junkies and their habits, I recognize that my dollars do indeed go to just that -- whether it's providing a safer, sterile center or paying for cleanup and medical expenses.

Having worked in a harm-reduction environment, I can say there's a large gap between theory and reality. Implementation of the harm reduction principles essentially turned the place where I worked into a crack house where residents could shoot up at their leisure, then receive medical services on demand. Where's the incentive to get -- and stay -- healthy?

There's also talk about "removing the stigma" from being an IV drug user. Yes, let's do that. People in Belmont can't light up a cigarette in their own apartments, and there's forces at work in San Francisco that say there should be no stigma surrounding heroin.

Finally, I'm mixed about the concern for living conditions in the Tenderloin going downhill as a result of the center. Folks, let's face it. This neighborhood is like Night of the Living Dead anyway. I'm not saying inviting more addicts in is a good thing, but if you're raising your kids in the TL, you already know you can't let them play outside.

No wonder the French hate us

"Deep in the Gallic soul resides the notion that work is exploitation, a ruse concocted by American robber barons, best regulated and minimized and offset by hours of idleness."

Perhaps I'm French after all?

Every stoner loves Aqua Teen

I've finally figured out a way to drown KFOG out

The Jeffersons theme song!

Morning conversation

ADAM: Tantric Masturbatory Yoga. Now that's a class you'd sign up for.

ME: That's a class I'd teach. Then again, never mind. Fucking Tantra. Please.

ADAM: Downward-facing doggy style.

Just back from going to Adam's GenenGoodbye lunch. Great time. Nice people. Awesome food. Good alcohol. I love playing the crazy freelancer girlfriend.

I think I have extremely exciting news, but I'm going to wait to announce it until I get confirmation.

Anniveraries, regrets, Paul Theroux

Oct. 17 is an anniversary of sorts. So is Oct. 19, and so is Oct. 22. Long live three years of incredible happiness -- raucous times and all. I look forward to many, many more. Baby, I prize and adore you.

The joy I feel today makes me wish I could share it with long-lost friends ... people departed through mutual stubbornness and misunderstandings. If only I could reach out. If only they would.

On a more literary note, I'm just finishing up The Pillars of Hercules by Paul Theroux. A few passages I love:

"Cold and unsettled at the edge of this desert, feeling thwarted, this enforced isolation filled my mind with memories of injustice -- put-downs, misunderstandings, unresolved disputes, abusive remarks, rudeness, arguments I had lost, humiliations. Some of these instances went back many years. For a reason I could not explain, I thought of everything that had ever gone wrong in my life. I kept telling myself, 'So what?' and 'Never mind,' but it was no good. I could not stop the flow of unpleasant images, and I was tormented."

"Places had voices that were not their own; they were backdrops to a greater drama, or else to something astonishingly ordinary, like the ragged laundry hung from the nave of a plundered Crusader church in Tartus on the Syrian coast. Most of the time, traveling, I had no idea where I was going. I was not even quite sure why. I was no historian. I was not a geographer. I hated politics. What I liked most was having space and time; getting up in the morning and setting off for a destination which, at any moment -- if something compelled my attention -- I could abandon. I had no theme. I did not want one. I had set out to be on the Mediterranean, without a fixed program. I was not writing a book -- I was living my life, and had found an agreeable way to do it."

Showdown in downtown Berkeley!

So I don't go to Peoples for a day and all holy straw-hat hell breaks loose.

I noticed Code Pink demonstrating a few weeks ago outside the military recruitment office. I just felt sorry for the people working in the adjacent buildings -- having to listen to the hoots and squawks and howls and honking horns. Seriously. That can get annoying after a while.

Then today -- this! Code Pink is facing off against the U.S. Marine Corps recruiting station and its supporters. Way to go, girls. Let's hear it for your support of freedom of speech -- and freedom of choice. And by the way, our military presence (at least partly) works to support the Fifth Amendment. People die -- and continue to die -- so you can make a pain in the ass out of yourself at the corner of Shattuck and Addison.

I was impressed with Capt. Richard Lund's letter to the Berkeley Daily Planet. Wonder if Becky O'Malley gave him the rough side of her tongue, too.

On storytelling at the Moth

What is the appeal of sharing stories?
The appeal and the process are different for different groups. For anyone who�s professionally involved with narrative, whether as a writer, filmmaker or performer, I think part of the appeal of doing a 10-minute Moth story is the process of condensing a story to its essence. Writers have often told me that telling their Moth story helped them get to the core of a longer script or book project they were working on and perhaps struggling with. For everyone else, the appeal is to tell a story that wouldn�t otherwise be shared with anyone outside their personal circles.

Generally speaking, writers need to get away from the page (all stories must be told live without notes), actors need to get away from acting, and people who have no previous experience with narrative or performing arts need help structuring and delivering the story in the most compelling way.

More here.

"'The use of predominantly pastel centerpieces had a significant impact on the look of the room and was entirely inconsistent with the vision the plaintiffs had bargained for,' Glatt, a lawyer, said in the lawsuit, filed on behalf of herself, her husband, David, and her mother-in-law, Tobi Glatt, who paid for the flowers.

"The flowers cost $27,435.14. The lawsuit asks for more than $400,000 in restitution and damages."

A New York JAP sues because her wedding flowers weren't picture-perfect. I can just hear the nasal whining. And don't get pissed at me for invoking the term Jewish-American Princess. I'm a Jew. I know a JAP when I see one.

There's nothing wrong with showing sex as it is -- not always carefree fun. I applaud Ang Le and the other directors who have the courage to do this.

Doris Lessing on political correctness

"Questions You Should Never Ask A Writer"

What cats know about war

"That is when I heard it: the cry of an abandoned kitten, somewhere out in the darkness, calling for its mother somewhere inside the compound. By an animal lover’s anthropomorphic logic, those desperate calls, three nights running, had come to seem more than the appeal of a tiny creature doomed to a cold and lonely death. Deep in the winter night, they seemed like a dismal tocsin for all who suffer in a time of war."

The New York Times on reporters' pet cats in Baghdad.

Creepy beyond creepy

Louis Theroux, son of Paul, features the "God Hates Fags" folk on the BBC.

"Watching Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie recently in Ethiopia, cuddling African children and lecturing the world on charity, the image that immediately sprang to my mind was Tarzan and Jane."

Paul Theroux on celebrities for Africa.

Is this why I want to book a trip to Guatemala?

The saddest sight my eyes can see is that big ball of orange sinking slyly down the trees
Sitting in a broken circle while you rest upon my knee this perfect moment will soon be leaving me
Suzanne calls from Boston the coffee's hot the corn is high
And that same sun that warms your heart will suck the good earth dry
With everything it's opposite enough to keep you crying or keep this old world spinning with a twinkle in its eye
Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone I'm gonna clear my head
I'm gonna drink that sun I'm gonna love you good and strong
while our love is good and young Joni left for South Africa a few years ago and then
Beth took a job all the way over on the West Coast
And me I'm still trying to live half a life on the road
I'm heavier by the year and heavier by the load.
Why do we hurtle ourselves through every inch of time and space I must say around some corner
I can sense a resting place
With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face
We'll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we'll trace
Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
I'm gonna clear my head I'm gonna drink the sun
I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young

- Indigo Girls

You and me, girl, got a highway to the sky

Listening to Bee Gees videos on YouTube while working. Right now I've got "Too Much Heaven" on, which reminds me of being a little little kid on our blue-green carpet in East Lyme, Connecticut. I remember how being protected felt built-in, a warm given.

Five years ago I met the person who made me remember that feeling. I'm marrying him.

If I had a wish
Or even a choice
I'd wake up
To the sound of your voice

- Barenaked Ladies

Corinthia Grand Hotel Royal

Dear God! This is the 5-star hotel where Adam and I will be staying in Budapest -- wow!

True to his offer at the workshop, Mike Daisey's been very helpful in shaping a story pitch for The Moth.

He's encouraged me to cut down the scope of my story, work on my arc, and amp up the stakes. I can see it coming together.

Last night, Adam and I got to talking about why I keep this blog.

It often happens that in conversation with him, I say things I never knew I knew, thought, or felt. It's one of the charms of being with him.

There are several reasons I keep this blog:

- It's an exercise in off-the-cuff expression, often of strong emotion or reaction. I've written about many personal topics here. That's no accident. It's not only mentally healthy for me, but it's a creative exercise in storytelling, which will help me onstage.
- It's a way to keep in touch with friends, many of whom I don't speak with on a regular basis. These are people who have sought me out and expressed interest in my everyday goings-on, but who have lives and can't email or call every day. That includes my best friend from high school, who has three kids and a husband and a teaching career, but who makes time to get in touch, check up on what's going on in my life, and ask me about it.
- It's an opportunity to broadcast events -- readings and such -- to a greater audience without sending out mass emails.

A year ago I had another blog. I shut it down and made it private after family members expressed objections about its content to Adam. I never invited them to read it. They found it, read it, got angry about it, and let him know.

I quickly realized I missed this open forum and began another one.

Shortly after I graduated from St. Mary's, I got my feathers in a flurry after reading a post on a former professor's blog. She didn't name me by name, but she definitely fired off a few unflattering salvos.

I now realize she had every right to do so. She didn't invite me to read her blog. I sought her out and did so willingly. I shouldn't at all have been surprised or pissed off at what she wrote. Ever read someone's diary and feel stung at what you find? It's a little like that.

I've never asked anyone to read this. This is for me first and for everyone else a distant second. Anyone who's found this blog has done exactly as I did with my former professor -- went out on the internet, looked me up, and continued to read it.

An addendum here. I really want to be part of Adam's family. I want to be treated as a family member. It's what I always wanted. I am so thrilled that I'm going to be his wife, I think he's the most amazing person in the world, and I know that we are both so lucky to have found each other.

I really have tried to be a member of the family -- sending emails and photos, showing interest, trying to be a good person. My effort has waned as of late because I grew to believe my interest was not reciprocated. Maybe it is, and maybe I just don't see it. Maybe I'm not looking in the right places. I haven't given up. But I sure am frustrated.

No guilt

There's this guy I've seen at Peoples a few times. It's clear he has few social skills. He's not good at dealing with the baristas, and it's just obvious he's awkward in everyday life.

Every time I've seen this douchebag, he kicks against the bench that lines the wall. Keep in mind that pretty much everyone in the cafe is sitting on this bench. We all get to feel the vibrations, and believe me, they're not good vibes.

A few minutes ago he was kicking, kicking, kicking. I said (louder than intended): "Jesus!"

His face turned red.

He packed up his shit.

He left.

Did I make him feel badly? Yep. Could I have been nicer? Sure. But I'm tired of clueless people who get the benefit of tolerance. Fuck you. Learn how to act in public or stay home.

Amy in the house

Acting class was awesome last night. I got all gussied up as my favorite smack addict, down to the tats, bruises, bloody cuts and scrapes, white-trash makeup and mole. I brought in a huge mommy-purse with everything Amy might need: beehive hairdo (represented by a black skein of yarn), cigarette, crochet/heroin needle, bendy cocaine straw, empty beer bottle, pipe for ... whatever.

Later, I heard Adam rummaging in the bathroom for an extended amount of time. When he came out, he said: "Did Amy beat up her husband?" He'd used my vampire paints to give himself a black eye. We got a few cockeyed looks at Koryo and more than one laugh at The Pub. Pictures to come.

How the fuck did I get on this mailing list?

Return to Center

presents...

~Awakening your Sacred Leader, a Mask-Making Experience~

Nov 2-3, 2007

Experience a weekend of exploration and creative expression. We will dive deep, accessing the face of your archetype, surfacing this emergent expression on a mask. Express and step into your most authentic and powerful self!

When:

Fri eve, 6:30pm-9:00pm: Opening and New Mask birthing process

Sat, 10:00am-5:00pm: Deep dive through a mini-breathwork, followed by the creative and expressive mask-making, integrative sharing and claiming ritual.

Investment: $100 (a non-ref. $25 deposit holds your space)

Group limited to 12 participants

Contact: return2center@comast.net

Location: Opening to Life Studio, 407 NE 12th St., Portland, OR

(at NE Flanders, across from Franz bakery)

Rev. Dr. Martie Geltz, M.Div.
Mystical Activist
The Return to Center
return2center@comcast.net
office: 503 635 1629

Is there any wonder I have so much anger?

Is it a surprise that I go out looking for fights?

Is it a mystery why I'm equal parts shock and terror?

There's times I just want to go off on my father, just really let it rip, and then I try to remember I'm a grown-up and there's no need to be scared. Not any more, and maybe not ever.

Support equal marriage rights!

Yesterday Joseph reminded me of my five minutes of lesbianism. I never did much about it, unless you count this, and I don't.

Since I love a man and not a woman, I'm allowed by society to have a ring on my finger and to make marriage plans. Let's hope this changes soon.

Weiner Takes All

Saw this tonight. Hard to tell if it was satire or straight, and in any event, it put a bad taste in my mouth about people who make their animals compete on their behalf.

Adam and I randomly walked through an open house in Berkeley yesterday.

"I could see us buying," I said after we left, "someday."

"When it makes sense," he said.

As we walked, I started babbling about how I'd need to be more stable -- no, not that, just have more savings, no, not exactly --

"I just don't want it to be yours," I said, "and I'd be sponging."

"We'll be married," he said. "It'll be ours."

I missed him most when it got late
Attempt to hear him breathing
Or feel his shifting weight

- Amy Winehouse "Do Me Good"

"Conservatives are such jokers"

It's sad to see a well-regarded columnist present such a one-sided, biased opinion in a major newspaper.

Krugman says:

Of course, minimizing and mocking the suffering of others is a natural strategy for political figures who advocate lower taxes on the rich and less help for the poor and unlucky.

So liberals never mock anybody who disagrees with them?

Anyone they see as less than them?

I'm more liberal than conservative. But really, that's beside the point here. It's more about hypocrisy -- an affliction that, unfortunately, is not partisan.

"If there were such a thing as an official borough cookie, Brooklyn's would be the black and white."

Is there any better reason to love the place than that?

AWESOME!

New York IS going to the kids!

So I thought that the "Child Pride Parade" was facetious.

And it is.

But for how long?

Looks like West Village parents are pissed off about the S&M Street Festival slated for this Sunday -- and want community leaders removed for approving it.

I'm sorry?

In New York?

In the Village?

You can never entirely protect your kids from life, no matter where you live. However, if you're really looking to pull the protective bubble over their heads, move to where I grew up. No S&M fests over there, just a bunch of repressed mommies and some daddies who diddle their secretaries.

But you're looking to change goddamned Greenwich Village to provide a sanitized zone for your kids? Isn't that a little naive and -- dare I say it? -- entitled?

What would these parents do if the scary S&M leather men petitioned their community leaders to make the Village a kid-free zone? They'd freak out, that's what. But it's okay for them to say: Sorry, leather folk, take it to San Francisco ... where we're still allowed by the parental powers that be to have raunchy street fairs. It must really suck for these guys to work hard at coming out -- because you know many of them have had to struggle with their identity -- only for other peoples' parents, not even their own, to tell them they're sick and wrong and not fit for young eyes.

Boy, are those parents going to be pissed when little Jane or Johnny grows up to be a big, whip-wielding, flaming queer.

Maybe I'm biased because of how I grew up: My needs were met, I was fed and clothed and educated, and my parents did more than their fair share of running around to haul me to Girl Scouts and soccer practice. But they did not shield me from reality. I heard cursing, smelled cigarette smoke, and was exposed to different ways of living and varying opinions. I thank them for that. It made me the person I am today.

Anyway, Gothamist says it better than I could:

What exactly are ma and pa shielding their kids eyes from? Women will be going topless, and the men are only required to wear a two-inch strip of leather to cover their backsides...but to see the flogging and rope-bondage demonstrations, you're gonna have to pay up. Seriously, it's $5 -- but don't fret parents, they're carding for that one.

While the families question the fest, this is New York, and it's just a celebration of the diversity of the neighborhood -- maybe they could take their kids to a movie while it's going on.

Late last night after last night's performance, I turned to Adam in bed.

"Do you think I can make it?" I asked.

"You can do anything," he said.

I got tagged!

Irreverent Freelancer has nailed me for "The Random 8 Meme: Tagged With My Pants Down!"

The rules of this tag:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. List eight (8) random facts about yourself.
3. Tag eight people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving them a comment on their blogs.

* I don't even think I know eight bloggers ... I'll just tag as many as I can! I'm sorry for bending the rules, Kathy! *

8 random facts about me:

1) I was born in New York City, spent the first four years of my life in East Lyme, Connecticut, and grew up in San Diego.

2) I have had two pets: a mutt named Sandy and an orange tabby named Oliver, both of whom I'm going to talk about tonight.

3) I got engaged to Adam Sandler onstage in New York City.

4) For nearly half a year, I lived in a town that specializes in Semtex and horse-racing.

5) I consider my younger brother one of my best friends. You'd almost never know that I was furious when my mother became pregnant with him. When he was born, I nicknamed him the Accident of Birth Control. He loves that nickname.

6) While traveling in Amsterdam at 26 years old, I smoked the requisite weed at a place called Cheech 'n Chong's. I orbited the ceiling for about three hours and then staggered out to get the best hamburger of my life. I seriously think that shit was soaked in something.

7) I'm not fluent in any foreign language, but I can curse in Spanish, French, Czech, and Yiddish.

8) I am not for everyone. I am not for most people. If I knew someone like myself, I may or may not even like that person. I am loudmouthed, bullheaded, and tragically opinionated. Fortunately, I'm funny, loyal, and sincere, which can sometimes make up for my flaws.

I now tag Adam and Tracy for this one.