Dancing with Myself

Seven Things

In a previous posting, I complained that no one ever "tags" me.  Does it mean that no one is interested in my experiences, or is it just that  we figure everybody is as busy as we are and don't need to be pestered with these high school kind of games?  When's the last time Kevin Drum got tagged, eh?  Yeah, well, it's childish, but if all your friends are playing a game and you're the odd duck out, you start whining "you guys never choose me."  Andante felt sorry for me and tagged me, just so I wouldn't feel excluded.  Oh I don't care why I got tagged, just as long as I was.  Ready?  Let's play Seven Things!

Seven Things to do before I Die

1.  Live in Paris.

2.  Live in Berlin.

3.  Remember anyone whom I've short-changed --intentionally or unintentionally -- and pay all unpaid debts be they emotional, kharmic, financial, social, or otherwise.

4. Live, live, live!

5.  I could go on, but I think you get my gist.

Maybe I don't dream big enough.  Most of the things I can think of that I want to do before I die, I'll probably do in the next year.  Not that I expect to die, but I have a short attention span, and I have to do as much as I can before I forget.  There's a difference, but not much.

Seven Things I Cannot Do

1.  Whistle

2.  Play basketball

3.  Speak French.  You'd be amazed at how many people think I'm fluent in French.  I've faked it well these past twenty years, but the first thing I want to do after I retire is to move to Paris for about a year and really learn to speak French.

4.  Speak German.  See previous paragraph and substitute German for French and Berlin for Paris. 

5.  Fly.  I occasionally dream that I can fly.  In my dreams, the physics of flying are very simple.  I am able to channel energy out from an area under my shoulder blades that causes me to lift and move with the grace of a hummingbird.  This is the only reoccurring dream I've ever had, and I've had it enough times to believe it.  Except that I can't.

6.  Recall the names and titles of books I've read, movies I've seen, lists I've read, etc. instantly for the purpose of impressing others with the breadth of my intellectual curiosity and cultural depth.

7.  Stop obfuscating and bullshitting when I don't really have anything to say.

Seven Things That Attract Me to Blogging

1. I get to express myself.

2. Instant gratification

3. Interacting with people.  I love meeting people.  Hell, that's one of the reasons I like going out to bars.  People go there with the expectation of meeting other people.  My bar of choice is now the Internet.  You get to meet all sorts of people.  And just like at the bar, not everyone you run into is someone you want to hang out with.  It is not foreordained that we will all like each other and get along.

4.  Ranting and  raving about whatever it is that excites me for the moment without having to annoy others who have to work next to me and cannot escape when I begin a tear.

5.  It has enabled me to write my autobiography, one memory at a time.

6.  I have been able to tell the story of my mother's people without the approval, censorship, or acceptance of academia, or my many cousins either, for that matter.  Now when you Google my family's name, you get my story along with the misinformation from the University of Texas.

7.  All of my personalities get a chance to express themselves.  So far I've identified about half a dozen of my personalities, five of whom have their own blogs.  Blogging at least helps us keep our shit from getting mixed up.  Oh don't get so paranoid, we're just teasing about all those personalities.  There isn't that many of us.

Seven Things I Say Most Often (not in any particular order)

1.  Fabulous (I am Gay after all)

2.  Me as well.

3.  Eh?

4.  Blessed be

5.  Bush is such a total loser.

6.  Cheers

7.  Sugah

Seven Books That I Love (and unhesitatingly recommend to others)

1.  Lazy Man's Guide to Enlightenment, by Thaddeus Golas

2.  Mr. Palomar, by Italo Calvino

3.  The Mind's I, by Douglas R. Hofstadter

4 .  The Powwow Highway, by David Seals

5.  The Gospel According to Jesus, an edited teachings of Jesus by Stephen Mitchell

6.  Cold Mountain, by Charles Frazier

7.  Conduct Unbecoming, by Randy Shilts

Seven Movies, Plays or Operas That I Watch or Could Watch Over and Over Again

1.  Babbette'sFeast

2.  Sordid Lives

3.  Monsoon Wedding

4.  Tortilla Soup

5.  A Streetcar Named Desire

6.  Bijou (it's a porn classic from the early 70s)

7.  Priscilla, Queen of the Dessert

At this point, I'm supposed to pass the meme on to seven others. Here's the thing.  I don't know seven people well enough to ask, so I'll start a list below, and if anyone wants to play, sign in and leave your blog address and we'll all go over and read your lists. 

Now wasn't that fun?

 

 

A Day at a Time

Christmas was great.  Mother and I had a great time in Vegas.  I lost a little more than I should the first night there, but by the last night I had figured out the system well enough to recoup some of my earlier losses.  Most important, I didn't lose more than I could afford to lose.

I took mother on a grand tour of the casinos on Friday and Saturday.  We took public transportation once, and the Las Vegas monorail at other times.  Five years ago we would have walked everywhere. It's hard for me to accept the fact that my mother's body has grown old.  It's probably harder for her.  She has a good attitude and has no plans to retire anytime soon.  We're discussing next year's venue already.  I'm holding out for Waikiki.  Next November we're going to celebrate her 80th birthday in New York City.  She wants to be on national tv, so I've promised to help her.  I have a plan.  Stay tuned.  I may need help with resources.

We flew home on Christmas day.  Piece of cake.  Funny as it seems, I have a greater fear of going through the airport procedure than I do of flying.  We flew  home in time to have Christmas Dinner with my friend Joseph.  A good friend called and I invited him over to join us for Christmas Dinner at Joseph's.  Bob lives in Tacoma, but our friendship dates back to Fairbanks, Alaska, 1972.  He showed a nervous Gay GI at Ft. Wainwright enough of the ropes to feel at home in Fairbanks.  For the better part of the next 7 years, Fairbanks was my home.  Great is the gratitude I feel.  I used to think of Bob as my guru.  I've grown since then.  I don't think Bob has.

He lives (and travels) with a Jack Russell terrier.  She's sweet.  Bob's obnoxious.  (If you read this Bob, I apologize, but it has to be said, and being Southern, I'd rather say it behind your back and say "bless your heart.")  Well, Bob, bless his heart, is the most neurotic dog owner I have encountered in eons.  He's so neurotic that he even had the dog certified as a "Help Dog" (whatever the fuck that is), so he's legally entitled to have the dog with him at bars and restaurants.  Because of his inability to be separated from the dog, he travels in a camper van, which means that although he was my guest, he had his own room.  As did the dog.  Everybody was happy.

Well, not everyone.  Mother didn't like either Bob or the dog.  Neither did Joseph, who invited Bob to Christmas dinner, but insisted that the dog not come.  At first Bob declined to join us, but just before dinner I persuaded him "to save"  dinner by coming over to be the 4th person at the table.  I told him that it was a Louisiana superstition about having three people at Christmas dinner is an omen that one of the three will die in the next year, and not that I was particularly superstitious, my mother was.  Bob came, the dog stayed.

My friend Joseph, about whom I have spoken before, prepared a prime rib roast.  It was marvelous.  When I first met Joseph, his palate suffered from arrested development stuck about age 6.  Not only would he separate his food and eat each pile separately in order, he had a list of foods that would literally make him throw up.  I'm  happy to say that he's advanced to about age 10 now.  I was going to say 12, but I noticed that he had managed to separate all of the pieces of red bell pepper from his soup and left them in the bowl after finishing the soup. 

When he was my roommate, I discovered to my absolute astonishment that he did not like nor would he eat onions.  Onions is one branch of the Holy Trinity of Louisiana cooking.  The other two are bell peppers and celery.  White people call that a "mirepoix" or something like that.  We call it the Holy Trinity, and it's basic to most Louisiana cooking.  It's what you add when the roux is finally dark enough. 

I don't think I can cook without using onions.  It turned out that I didn't have to.  Joseph didn't like most of my cooking, so I very quickly stopped worrying about what he ate or didn't.   You see, the thing is, grownups are allowed to make their own choices, even if you and I don't agree with them.  I might have thought his choices stupid, but he's a grownup and has the right and responsibility to make his own choices, stupid or not.  I learned a good lesson from this.  Thank you, Joseph. 

I told Bob to leave the damn dog in the camper.  I didn't say damn dog.  I  translated it into the language of his people so that he would understand.  "Bob," I says, "Joseph is severely allergic to dogs."  Bob totally understood.

* * * * * * *

Huntly's urologist called him today with the bad news that three spots showed up on the bone scan from last week.  Huntly has a good attitude.  It will serve him well in the months to come.  One day at a time. We're both going to be giving this a lot more attention than either of us would of wished. 

This is my first Christmas in 12 years without Beauregard.  Damn.  It's not my mother's being maudlin that snuck up on me, it was my own.  Damn.  Damn.  Damn.

* * * * * * *

I like the concept of the new year. While it means nothing, really, since tomorrow I'm only a day older than today, we've all agreed to give it a certain sense of importance.  It is a marker we've arbitrarily chosen.  2005 is ending.  Bang!  There it goes.  However, I like new starts, and there should always be someone around to say, "Enough of this.  Let's start another round."  So mankind invented the concept of years.

Each year I make a list of resolutions for the new year.  Usually what I do is to sit down and imagine the coming year.  Y'see, I believe we should imagine our lives.  By doing so, we have so many more opportunities.  I write down all my dreams, my resolutions, my hopes, my fears, my expectations, etc., on lists and file them away.  I don't throw them away, nor do I go back during the year and read them.  To read them at the end of the year would be a temptation to score yourself, and Life is not about scores. 

The value is in making the lists, of imagining the possibilities for your life.  Some things I write down each year, just so I won't forget.  Maybe in the next week we can all imagine something about our lives, outloud and with each other.  I'll start it rolling. 

My first resolution:  Let me be an instrument of peace.  Let me be at peace with myself, with my family, with my friends, and yes, even with my enemies.  Let that same peace radiate through me to help others be at peace.  Perhaps if enough of us find peace with ourselves and with each other, we can make the world a better place, and if there's anything the world needs, it's peace.  Let it begin with me.

Hope Your Christmas Was Special, too

I'm back.  Vegas was incredible.  I'm still aglow from the experience.  Hope to talk about it in the next day or so.  Meanwhile, if you want to see a few pictures, check it out.

Merry Christmas

My mother tends to get maudlin around the holidays, so to distract her, this year I'm taking her to Las Vegas.  I'm not taking my laptop, so no blogging for me for the next several days.  So, from my house to your house, may your life be filled with love, laughter, music, friends and family.  Peace.

Congratulations to Sir Elton John

David Furnish and Elton John became civil partners in England today.  I'm very happy for them.  The Chronicle refers to Furnish as "a Canadian Filmmaker" which leaves me with an obvious question.  If Furnish is Canadian, why did he and John wait until now to get "civil partnered" rather than go to Canada and get "married"?  Inquiring minds want to know.

I Want to Play, Too!

Those popular blogger kids never want to play with me.  They go around "tagging" each other and I'm always the last kid chosen, just like it was when I was in grammar school playing any sport.  I'm going to play anyway.   Here are a bunch of questions some other bloggers are asking each other, along with my answers.

1. Four jobs you have had in your life:

Counselor at a Jewish summer camp in the Catskills (1970).  I was hiding out as a draft dodger, on my way to Canada.  Who would think to look for a goy in the Catskills?

Maitre d'Hotel, Bear 'n Seal Restaurant, Fairbanks, Alaska, 1972-1973, while simultaneously serving as secretary to the Chief of Staff, Ft. Wainwright, Alaska, 1972-1973.

Judicial Secretary to Justice Stanley Mosk (1987) of the California Supreme Court (where I continue to be employed in a different capacity).

College instructor, Vienna, 1989.   My then-boyfriend arranged for me to accompany his German language class from the University of North Carolina to Austria for the summer.  I lectured on central European history. 

2. Four movies you could watch over and over:

Sordid Lives
Monsoon Wedding
Priscilla, Queen of the Desert
Harold and Maude

3. Four places you’ve lived:

Barrow, Alaska
San Francisco, California
New Orelans, Louisiana
New York, New York

4. Four TV shows you love to watch:

The Daily Show
The News Hour with Jim Lehrer
Malcolm in the Middle
Friends

5. Four places you’ve been on vacation:

The Isle of Mull
Puerto Vallarta
the Canadian Rockies
France

6. Four websites you visit daily:

Hairy Fishnuts
Wonkette
Altercation
Americablog

7. Four places you’d rather be right now:

Hawaii
Paris
North Carolina (don't ask)
Love

8. Four bloggers you are tagging:

I'm not tagging anyone.  I'm Dancing with Myself.

Bashing Republicans, or Holding Evil Accountable?

I started to leave this comment over on Linda's blog at Auterrific.  I felt like I might be getting into the middle of an argument between others, so I brought it here instead.

If we seem to unfairly pick on Republicans, it's only because they have turned everything, and I mean every-fucking-thing, into something to do with 9/11 and the war on terror.  Say aloud, "Arctic" "National" "Wildlife" "Refuge."  (And I have another 100 examples.)

One fact about the domestic spying that disturbed me much:  the special court set up to monitor the international wiretaps have never, that reads NEVER, has failed to grant the government any request made of  it made for a wiretap.  So why was it so egregious an imposition to ask the government to stay on record about its needs to wiretap domestically?

Yes, I will beat up on Republicans and Bush at each and every opportunity I get.  They're all a bunch of evil crooks.  Are they all?  I don't know.  Did all Nazis hate Jews, or did the more virulent ones gain control?  I'm not going to wait until 1939/2006 to find out.  My opposition to evil begins now.

And as a sentient being, I must bear witness and remember those  who did and did not say something when evil raised it's ugly head.

Holidays and Religion

Link: Dancing with Dogs: Comment on Religion...some questions.

I was checking my referral stats this evening, wondering if anyone was still reading my blog, especially considering how much I'm NOT writing these days -- (I think it's the television robbing me of my voice.) -- when I noticed someone had Googled one of my alternate personalities, of which I have several.  At about page 4 or 5 (there were over 10 pages listed by Google for this one particular personality), I came across a discussion about God, aka The Skye Fairie.  The discussion took place on a blog I monitored for a few months, Dancing with Dogs, before moving on.  However the conversation was interesting in both the questions asked, and the various comments left.  After monitoring the discussion and argument by many divergent interests and groups this past month about the true nature of Christmas versus "the holidays.", I thought it might be interesting for us to ask ourselves these questions and hear the answers of our friends.

Here are the questions asked by Shanti, the moderator of Dancing with Dogs.

1. Do you believe in God?

2. Do you believe in religion?

3. Do you believe religion is required to find God?

4. Why do you believe in the religion you believe in?

5. What motivates you to be religious?

6. Do you consider yourself spiritual, religious or both?

7. What kind of a being do you think God is?

I'm just curious, that's all.

 

What a Low Life Piece of Shit

Talking about Senator Frist, naturally.

Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist's AIDS charity paid nearly a half-million dollars in consulting fees to members of his political inner circle, according to tax returns providing the first financial accounting of the presidential hopeful's nonprofit.

Anyone who votes Republican should be so proud of yourselves, your political party, and especially your leadership.

ATypical Christmas

I haven't written much lately.  I've been busy, but that only tells part of the story.  I haven't felt reflective. Around me dramas are being played out much bigger than my own.  As my people would say, I'm called more to be in the audience than on the stage.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Dot.  Dot.  Dot.

Christmas is upon us.  My best friend was just here for a week.  Besides that, my roommate has prostate cancer, my mother is suddenly much older and more fragile, and I'm feeling detached and indifferent.  Oh, and I'm throwing a huge party this Sunday, and I have a cold.

This is when the going gets good. 

Today's favorite song is Blue Christmas as it's sung by Robi Kahakalau accompanied by a beautiful slack guitar.  Too sweet.  That's my life right now.  Too sweet.  Tout de suite.  Tud'suite.

Mood Swings
I'm enjoying the holidays, but for me emotionally, it's a bit like a roller coaster ride:  you climb some, get some height, drop suddenly and turn sharply often. 

This is not my first roller coaster.  Thank goddess for the stabilizing factor of chocolate.  In my youth, Christmas was about unmet expectations.  It's tough being a prince in a poor family.  It took thirty years, six or seven psychologists, psychiatrists, and psychics, two gurus, and six people who will not speak to me ever again for me to understand the source my pain each year:  unmet expectations.   I no longer go to that well for water.  It took me a few years to completely understand it, but I did finally get it.  It is more blessed to give than to receive.  It really is.  That's the secret of Christmas.

I'm okay this Christmas.  I love and am loved by many.  I am blessed.  Others around me face far greater crises where I find my role limited.  My job is to be strong and resolute of character, and let me tell you bob, I am nothing if I'm not resolute in my character, whatever the fuck that means. 

Maybe I'm just holding my breath.