48 hours

My buddy Tom from NY is a film fanatic. He thinks he is as big a cinephile as I am... he is mistaken. But I let him have his delusions mostly cuz he is cute and he amuses me. There is this thing called "The 48 Hour Film Festival". The rules of the festival are, you have exactly 48 hours to make your short movie. On Friday night at 7:00pm Tom went to the orientation and signed up. It was there that he had to reach into a bag to find out what genre of film we would be making.

The story was a little crazy... I stole some special magical
tweezers and she could no longer pluck, so she developed
the brow...

Ok... just to fill you in... "Imagine creating a film from start to finish in just 48 hours—casting, writing, producing, directing, editing, adding music—Sound impossible? Well, the 48 Hour Film Project does just that, giving filmmakers the chance to show their talent in an original and creative form. Filmmaking teams of all levels begin at 7 PM on a Friday and deliver a finished 7-minute film by 7:30 PM Sunday. Each team receives a genre, a character, prop, and a line of dialogue that they must work into their piece. You are responsible for putting together a cast and crew, and getting equipment and anything else you need to make a film/video in just a weekend. Any team, regardless of skill level is eligible to participate in this competition."

So then She calls her girls... and they come after me.
Total western theme right... I call some of my boys...
but this is the point in the movie where I realize they
totally ditched me... bitches!!!

So basically we have 48 hours to do this... I was in another one of Tom's films a couple years ago so I was down for doing it again. Except last time my character name was "Gayest Man on Earth" and it was a play on the Wizard of Oz. Needless to say it was in black and white until I open my front door in my teal sequined shirt!!! Well this time we drew the genre of "Western". (Oh god... how do you make a western in a city??) According to the rules you have to do the genre you draw, but... if you want to put some other genre's in the mix you are perfectly allowed to do it. So we threw in a healthy heap of comedy, a little silent film action and just a bit of femme fatale!!

Femme Fatale my ass!!! This is what we spent so much time doing.
Sitting around trying to figure out what to do next. Hmmmmm...

The end product is pretty silly... but we got it done. It was a lot of fun. Running around the city in these painfully tacky costumes and doing a little guerrilla filmmaking. I'll tell you what, doing this kind of thing will really make you think seriously about being an actor. The movie ended up being around 5 minutes long... it took over 12 straight hours to do the filming... and that is just my part. Dear god!!! My dogs were killing me after a while...

Here is a sneak preview of the film. Hope you laugh as much as we did while making it...

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=OYJIN8OA

Every western ever made had at least one tumbleweed in it... the one time
there is no wind in this damn city. We had to figure out another
way to make the paper roll down the street.

See told you... Tom... Such a total HOTTIE!!!!

The Tragedy of the Baby-Gays

So this weekend is Gay Pride in San Francisco. When I asked a bunch of random people why we celebrate pride on this weekend I got looks of bewilderment. Always in my mind when an LGBT issue comes up I am reminded of a passage from Aumisted Maupins "Tales of the City": "Those who can not remember the past are doomed to repeat it". To answer the question for those of you that don't know it... June 28th 1969 the Stonewall riots began. Marking the first time in history where LGBT people said NO, we will not hide ourselves in darkness. NO, you will no longer shame us for our love. NO, we will never again be the love that dare not speak it's name. So on the last weekend of June, every year, New York and San Francisco have their pride celebrations to commemorate the birth of the Gay Rights Movement.

After the last two days of festivities, I can say with confidence that the necessity for a gay pride march has run it's course. Gay Pride started out being a statement. It said with voices united, this is who we are. We are your brothers and sisters, your mothers and fathers, your best friend and the stranger on the street. We are not something you need to fear. We are human.

With this yearly celebration the LGBT community slowly weaved itself into the daily life of America. Through the media our issues have been brought to national attention. Our rights have come leaps and bounds from where we started thirty eight years ago. We have positive gay role models in every aspect of our lives. From Politicians to Teachers, from Police Chiefs to Mayors and from Basketball stars to Actors. Even with a Fundamentalist Christian Gay-Hating government we have still persisted to fight every day for our cause. Well.... some of us have.

Those people I call the "Baby-Gays" are a constant reminder to me that our movement is dying out with the older generation. Those who had no choice but to fight to their dying breath for justice and equality. The Baby-gays have never known a world where they have had to fight for their love. The only hurdle they have ever had to overcome is coming out of the closet. For many of them, that is the only thing they think they owe to the LGBT community. It is not.

They owe their fighting spirit, their dedication and their very freedom to those that paved their way. They should not be allowed to drop the torch of the gay rights movement because it is inconvenient. Because it might get in the way of reality shows, cruising and shopping. We have lost millions of our brothers to a horrible disease and yet people still don't understand that you HAVE TO wear a condom. It is inconvenient. America has raised a generation of selfish, ignorant and useless gays

These gays cry havoc when a public injustice is done to our community. When Bush made Gay Marriage a national hate topic I could hear them all yelling to the heavens from my window. Then I heard them going back into the bars and accomplishing nothing. Todays generation of Gays spend their time looking for "the one", or shopping for what they think is "in" and "popular". They spend their time on things that in the long run will leave no mark on humanity. All the while they are damaging our community by becoming a generation of stereo-types.

Don't get me wrong, I know there are those out there that every day do something in some way to help our community. I am also not being hypocritical, I have been giving to my community since moving to San Francisco. I have been the CEO of two LGBT non-profit organizations and my current job is one in which I help people of every community in the city survive. I do this because it is fulfilling, but also because I don't look at our community as sex oriented. Sex is what differentiates us from the rest of humanity, but it is not all we are. With the exception of the Baby-Gays.


After witnessing this pride, the only thought that keeps going through my head is Pride is Dead. Pride no longer has a message, nor do we need the pride march to make sure that people know we are still here and fighting. Pride has become nothing more than a corporate sponsored party. While I appreciate that there are company's in America that support our movement, I think there are more important things we need as a community than beer and vodka. I would be just as happy if those company's just donated money to organizations that are doing the most good. Pride is not it.

Pride has become a drunken party for people to cruise each other, and straight people to come and watch the freaks. I thank the straight community for their support, but if you are going to come to a pride event, for Christ's sweet sake, at least be ok with Gay people. Don't hate them, dont mock them, and stop fighting them if they check you out. And as long as we are talking about fighting, Lesbian community... you have a lot to answer for. I was walking to the MUNI during the Pink Party last night and two gangs of Lesbians started beating the shit out of each other right in front of me. Literally, I had to push them away from me so I wouldn't get hit. And why were they fighting... oh this is good... because one girl checked out another girls girlfriend. Seriously? You expect the rest of the world to respect us when you act that way?

The Dyke March is a perfect example of the way the LGBT community is imploding in on itself. Voices United. Strength in Numbers. These were the things we used to unite our community. The Dyke March said great, thanks for having pride and all... but we are just going to do our own thing over here. And god forbid if anyone but a Dyke want to show support of our community by walking with them. I have been yelled at, cursed at, and threatened the two times I participated. Right on their website they state that no one is welcome in the march but Dykes. It is deplorable, the lesbian community has become a major dividing force in the LGBT community.

Well, this is starting to sound like a rant, so I will try to wrap it up. To the Baby-Gays, grow up. If you don't start paying attention, and soon, all the things you take for granted (being able to walk down the street holding hands, having what you do in your bedroom not be a federal crime, openly gay bars with windows you can see through), they will systematically be taken away from you till you have nothing left but your popular clothes and your reality shows without a gay character.

To the Lesbian community: Stop trying so desperately to separate yourself from the LGBT community. There is strength in unity, in one common goal, in one community standing united for equality. The harder you try to pull away... the more chaos you will inflict and the easier it will be for the people that don't understand or like us to destroy us.

To the rest of the LGBT community. Please don't let the Gay Rights Movement die. Stand up and do something. Give your time or money or whatever you have to give to an LGBT organization that is fighting for you.

The Con and the Car...

So my friend Kathleen and I were talking the other day and she asked me if I could drive stick... I then told here this story and she said that it was interesting and I should write it down because as so often is the case... life truly is stranger than fiction.

New years weekend 1996. My friend Stacey and I were just sitting around bored off our asses. This is the dreaded Orange County where there is nothing to do but be harassed by republicans or stalked by Christians. Obviously neither sounded very appealing to either of us... me the gay boy and her the goth girl. I don't know how it got into our heads, but all of a sudden both of us desperately wanted to get the hell out of dodge.

Of course in my younger years I was quite lazy so I didn't really have a "job" to speak of, which meant very little money to spend. So, where do you go if you are kinda trashy with not much money??? VEGAS BABY!!! Yeah... I know, that could be construed as kind of insulting, but you know, I always thought of Vegas as a real white trash escape. A vacation spot for people who didn't know what a vacation was. But all that is beside the point of the story.

Stacey and I each pack a bag and get ready to go to Vegas for the weekend. I give my mom the 'ol puppy dog eyes and get a little money for the weekend and we are off and away!!! We ended up staying at Circus Circus and having a really good weekend, and even managed to not spend very much money. Stacey, anal as she is, thought she saw blood spots in the shower of our room and got us a weekend stay for free. Nice. Then she witnesses me kissing a boy for the first time at the Gypsy club. Ahh... Raphael, just out of the army. Jesus he was beautiful!

Well... none of this is the really interesting part. The most interesting thing happened on the way to Vegas. It is about a five hour drive on the 15 from where we lived in OC. And Stacey was determined to teach me how to drive a stick shift. She had this dark green truck that she was so proud of. And to be honest it was a pretty nice truck, even though we could only fit 3 people in it.

Stacey drove us through most of LA, she wanted the wide open road with no traffic to teach me on. So once we got to the desert outside LA she pulled over and we did a Chinese fire drill. I took the wheel and she buckled herself in for the ride of her life. It was pretty easy... I mean... You never really down shift or slow down on that freeway. So I drove most of the way to Vegas without incident. When we got to the California/Nevada border she told me to pull off the freeway so we could get gas. This was the scariest part of me driving stick... I had to learn to down-shift while driving off the freeway.

Yeah... it was a bit nerve racking. So I get off the freeway, and drive down what appears to be the main drag of this tiny little town. Stacey makes me drive past the first couple gas stations... grrrr... stupid stoplights and down-shifting. I finally pull into a gas station that she says is good enough for us. I pull up to the pump, pop the gas cap open turn the truck off and get out. Stacey gets out and puts her credit card into the pump and starts to pump gas. She then leans into the truck and grabs her purse, locks the door and shuts it.

She tries to walk away but the bottom of her jacket got stuck in the door when she shut it. She tries to open the door but it's locked. I am halfway to being inside when she calls out to me. I walk back over to her. She asks for the keys so she can get unstuck. I pat my front pockets. I pat my back pockets. I check the pockets on my jacket. No keys. At the same moment we both lean over and look inside the truck. There are the keys, hanging mockingly from the ignition. We look at each other and then look to the drivers door. Locked. Fan-fuckin-tastic.





We tried everything to get into the cab of the truck. We even broke open the little window on the back. Stacey tried squirming in that window far enough to either grab the keys or unlock a door, but no luck. So there we are...last week of December standing in the cold at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. The attendant at the gas station couldn't help us except to call a tow truck. Stacey left her jacket hanging out the door and waited inside, where there was heat, for the tow truck to arrive. Yeah... it took over an hour... damn podunk town.

The tow truck guy tried for an hour to slim-jim the door open with no luck. Finally when it was looking like we were going to have to get the truck towed thereby canceling out road trip to Vegas, this guy walks up and asks what is going on. Of course by this point Stacey and I were totally depressed about the way the weekend was getting off to its start. He walked over to the tow truck guy and asked if he could give the slim-jim a try. Now I had no idea who this random guy was, but he took the slim-jim and in less than five minutes he had the door open and Stacey in her jacket.

It was amazing. I don't know how he did it, but he did it. At that point the tow truck guy said that he wouldn't charge us for getting the door open, but that there was still the slight fee for him coming out... at that point the guy told him not to worry about the bill, he had AAA and we could use his card. This was really too much... I asked him who he was.

His answer makes this a story I will never forget. This is what he said:

He was a convict that had been on the run from the law for a couple years. He had warrants out for his arrest. He was involved in one of the biggest marijuana busts in US history and after it all went down he managed to get out of dodge just before the police came for him. He told us that he helped us because he needed all the good karma he could get where he was going.

I asked him, where he was going. San Diego, he said... to turn himself in, and do his time. It was a waste paying for AAA when he had never needed it, so he figured this way, at least the service got used. He told us not to get into drugs, then he turned and walked back to his car. He got in and drove off leaving us all a little bit speechless. I never even got his name. I do, from time to time wonder what happened to him.

It was one of the most surreal things I have ever witnessed.

Needless to say, we made it to Vegas and back. It was a great weekend. I got one of my first and best kisses from a boy. And Stacey never asked me to drive stick again.

Death Found You

In dark and silent whispers that I could not hear
Death found you lying in our bed and he pulled you near
An embrace that for so long, had been mine alone
Now belongs to another and my heart is stone

Many times I've wished for death lying in your arms
Nowhere else in my life so free and safe from harm
No comfort will I ever have in the decades past
All my words and all my love forever didn't last

I still wake from screaming, my voice is going numb
How much pain can I stand before I too succumb
No more chances will I have to sing you into sleep
And hold you tightly through the night in the dark'ning deep

I'm left here cold and crying in this lonely bed
Wishing it was me, not you, that had gone ahead
What twist of fate so cruel has robbed us of our chance
For one more moment, one more smile, one more quiet dance

My conclusion has been settled, yet I still remain
Reluctant to cast off this life like a prison chain
Soon I'll rise to find you on these redemptive wings
We will find our home here at the ending of all things

-Shane J. Kroll

(This is a poem I wrote for a friend of mine, Mary. She and her wife Jean had been married for almost thirty years. Mary has had a lot of health problems and so the two of them prepared all the paperwork should Mary pass on. It is very difficult for gay couples to take care of their loved ones near the end of life because of the state of our country.

Mary and Jean spent a lot of time preparing for the inevitable. But when the inevitable finally came... as is always the case... they weren't as prepared as they thought. You see, it was not Mary that died, it was Jean.

I cant begin to imagine what Mary had to go through... So I wrote this from her perspective.)

oom Papa.. oom Papa... Thats how it goes...

Ok... Seriously... isn't that the happiest looking baby you have ever seen? That smile, the eyes... you can tell this baby is ready to take on the world. Oh yeah... uh huh... that's my dad.

I was looking for pictures of my dad that I could put up on my blog for Fathers Day and it turns out this is the only one I have electronically. Look at that picture though... it completely tells you who my dad is. He still has that smile, and uses it constantly. I constantly refer to him as "The King of Corn". He is always either making jokes or trying to make my mom laugh... even now in my thirties, even though I tower over him, he still tries to get me to laugh by tickling me. The eyes are still just as full of wonder, excitement and happiness as they were when this photo was taken. Chuck has always had such a unique view of the world... I wonder if you can see it in his eyes.

I wanted to write something about my dad that would make him laugh and feel appreciated... but I kinda want to steer clear of the corny and cliche... he kinda has the corny market cornered anyway. I am just going to put down some of my memories here and hope that they bring a smile to his face the same way they bring one to mine.

Chuck has always been the best drummer I have ever heard... and while I could go on and on about his talent, he knows what I think about it. I only tell you this to set up this memory. I think it was my ninth or tenth birthday. Josh was doing something I don't remember, and Chuck was playing a gig so it was me and mom. She wanted to do something special for my birthday even though it was just the two of us. In Colorado there is this tiny little gold mining town called Central City. I always loved going there because it was like walking into the old west.

The town was so small and quaint. There was a taffy pull in one window and all kinds of little shiny things that draw the eyes of a child... I remember it being one of my favorite places on earth when I was young. There were even bars with those old swinging doors that you always see the bad guys get thrown through in the movies. We were looking for somewhere to eat lunch and mom said... "why don't we go in here... they have grilled cheese..."

As most of you reading my blog know... that was really all it took...mmmm cheese!!! Well as soon as we went in we heard the rockin music of the band. Not just any band... This was Chucks band playing on the stage. I remember it so well because as soon as the song was over, the lead singer looked at Chuck and then turned to the mike and wished me a happy birthday. It was sooooooo cool. Here I was this little boy in a bar, getting wished happy birthday by the band... I felt so special that day. The only other thing I remember was dancing with my mom while they were playing. Man what a sight that must have been.

Another memory I have was helping Chuck make my mom some mixed tapes. In '89 our grandmother got really sick, and mom moved out to California to be with her. It seemed like forever that she was gone... even though it was only a few months. Chuck missed her as much as we did and decided to make her some mixed tapes calling them "The Love Tapes"... I told you he was corny. I remember sitting on the floor in the music room in the old house in Kitteredge helping Chuck pick out songs. He even let me introduce a couple of them... Years later I heard one of those tapes and my voice on it... man... I don't know how mom stayed away... I POURED on the guilt and the lonesomeness her boys were feeling.

I remember those last few months in Colorado with Chuck very fondly. It was just us boys. Chuck, Josh and I horsing around all the time. We went on hikes together... we got away with movies mom wouldn't rent for us... it was like living in a frat. We had so much fun. Chuck went off to Europe to tour with his band and we went west and settled down in Orange County with mom... Quite a move for Chuck, from the rockies to the beach. But he managed.

The last thing I want to talk about is Chuck and my mom.

I grew up watching movies and tv... every kind. They let us watch whatever we wanted, and I watched more than my share. Well in these movies you always have the grand sweeping epic love story. The hero and the heroine finally coming together through all the obstacles. While this makes for good tv it isn't always the way in reality. There was no triumph of will or defeat of something evil in my parents love story. They met when I was three years old and have been together ever since.

The thing about them, it is obvious how much they love each other. Even when they fight... you can hear it. They are their others missing half. It may have taken Chuck 13 years to propose, but we all knew that it was forever as soon as they met. Not only is their love one that should be admired. But they managed to pass it on to both of their kids. I grew up knowing how much they loved each other and me and my brother. I never had to worry about a broken home. I knew from an early age what love was because of my parents. They taught us what true love was.

Lots of people have their horror stories about their parents. How unaccepting they were, how mean they could be to each other, how some member of the family was always forgotten. These people never get over that and in turn never form adult bonds with their parents. Their parents are always just the people that raised them. I have to say, it has never been that way with my parents. They raised us to think and to be responsible and to have integrity and in so doing they raised good men.

My favorite memory... I saved for last because it is the most recent. In 98 my brother moved to Kentucky with his wife, making it much more difficult to have family gatherings. As I said in a previous post I had only seen my brother and his wife Melissa twice in eight years. Well this past Christmas we all decided it was time to come home. This Christmas my brother and sister in law came home to Orange County and I came home and mom's brothers and their families came home.

The memory that gets me the most and makes me smile the most is the five of us (Mom, Chuck, Josh, Mel and I) sitting in the living room Christmas eve, just laughing and catching up... reminiscing about old times, the old house, the things that Josh and I got away with when our parents weren't around. Looking at old photo's of when we were young, mom explaining them to Mel. Chuck making some silly comment. Mom pulling out this photo of Chuck as a little baby that you are now looking at and all of us just giggling for a half hour... It was (insert cliche here) really the best Christmas of our lives.

Happy Fathers Day, old man

Arresto Momentum

I went to Chicago for the gay games last year and it was so incredibly hot I had to get out of there for a couple days. I thought to myself that I hadn't seen my brother for a few years (actually before last summer I had seen him twice in 8 years), and I had come most of the way across the country... I should just go a little bit further and spend a couple days with him.

So, I hopped a greyhound (scariest thing ever) and took an overnight bus trip to Louisville, KY. I know what you are thinking... but Louisville is actually quite a cool city. If I had to live there... I wouldn't hate it. They had cool shops, and nice museums to visit and it was actually the best part of the whole Chicago trip.

In one of those many museums I went to I came across this piece. It is so far, the only piece of art that has had a physical and emotional effect on me. I was so arrested by this piece and what the plaque said that I literally couldn't move away from it for the better part of an hour... and yeah, at one point I remember it making me cry a little.

I took this picture of it and I hope that it has some sort of effect on you.

Something dying...

Last August my friend Stephanie and I put on a show at a place called "The Jon Sims Center for the Arts". Now for those of you who don't know (which at this point I am guessing all of you that read my blog), Jon Sims founded the San Francisco Gay Mens Chorus, the Lesbian/Gay Chorus of San Francisco, the San Francisco Freedom Band... basically he was the father of the gay musical movement.

Well when we were doing this show last year it became pretty clear that the organization was in dire straights. When I say dire, I mean the board walked out six months before, the lighting girl was holding everything together and they were about a week away from being evicted. Steph and I thought that was horrible and that it was a worthy organization that deserved to continue on. So, we did the only thing that we could think... We took over. Steph formed a new board and got us an interim Executive Director.

We had our first board meeting and got our first inkling of how far gone the organization really was. By November our board of seven was down to three and the ED had resigned. The board that walked away and just left the organization to fail really did a good job of making sure that that is exactly what would happen. The records of the last few years were a nightmare. Taxes were never filed. Money was clearly embezzled. Rent had not been paid since the board walked away. So basically there was over 50k in debt, and we had no idea how to do it.

We were planning on closing the doors for good in December, but then we got an offer that we thought might save the place. An artist and teacher at a local college said that his school would pay a a third of the rent if they could have one of the studios for classes and student performances. We said hell yeah and brought him in. I started booking artists into the studios as fast as I possibly could and we honestly thought that we would be able to make it.

Over the last few weeks I have been pulling my hair out trying to figure it all out. I am desperately trying to figure out how to keep this place up and running. We consistently run about $1500 short on rent... Steph has been putting up her own money for months now, and she just cant afford it anymore, so now we are at wit's end. I can run the place and make all the bookings, but when it comes to the laws and standards of running a non-profit, I must admit I am at a loss. You see, I am the president and CEO now. Steph can not only no longer afford the financial burden, but the time burden is becoming too much as well. The only other board member is moving away in August, so she is basically gone already.

I am single handedly running that place. I have managed to knock over two thousand bucks of our debt out just with my silver tounge. Steph has personally been paying all of the utilities. Next week I am meeting with the property managers and eventually the landlord. Not a single day has gone by in the last two weeks when a debt collector hasn't called with a new bill. I am seriously about to cry. I don't know what else to do, I don't want the place to close but I cant seem to bring in enough money.

There is only one good thing that I have learned in the last two weeks about the organization and even that is pretty bad. If we walk away from the organization and leave it to fail on it's own like the last board did... the last board will be the ones held accountable. See, because Steph and I don't know all the details of running a non-profit we never changed any of the forms the state has that tells them who is accountable. So, in the eyes of the Federal Government and the State Government we don't exist in the organization.

I want to yell at those people that just walked away, they sabotaged the organization and the staff stole money and crippled us. I want them held accountable. I just don't know what else to do. I want to find someone who can help. I mean you would think that we could call the police... Or that there would be someone at the government that could help us or tell us what to do. I am just sick over this. It really is adding so much stress to my life.

Any ideas?

Going to a town...

Speaking of music... I just picked up Rufus Wainwrights' new cd "Release the stars". He is one of my favorite artists. He consistently pushes the envelope in regards to music and instrumentation. He is super-uber gay and is not ashamed to put that right into his lyrics. He can be an acquired taste I know... but if you are willing to try than you should start with a song called "the Art Teacher". It is a beautiful song and it is told through the eyes of a woman.

I have only heard the first half of this new cd, but already there is this song "Going to a town" that has my finger on the repeat button. There are grand crescendo's and a ton of instruments but what has me hitting rewind so much are the lyrics. So personal, and yet totally what I want to say.

I'm going to a town that has already been burned down
I'm going to a place that has already been disgraced
I'm gonna see some folks who have already been let down.
I'm so tired of America

I'm gonna make it up for all of the Sunday Times
I'm gonna make it up for all of the nursery rhymes
They never really seem to want to tell the truth
I'm so tired of you America

Making my own way home
Ain't gonna be alone
I got a life to lead America
I got a life to lead

Tell me do you really think you go to hell for having loved?
Tell me and not for thinking every thing that you've done is good
After soaking the body of Jesus Christ in blood
I'm so tired of America

I may just never see you again or might as well
You took advantage of a world that loved you well
I'm going to a town that has already been burned down
I'm so tired of you America

Making my own way home, Ain't gonna be alone
I got a life to lead America
I got a life to lead, I got a soul to feed
I got a dream to heed, And that's all I need
Making my own way home, Ain't gonna be alone

I'm going to a town that has already been burned down

Ingrid, William and the Utah Hotel

Ok, I admit it... I am a total "Grey's Anatomy" junkie. Have been since episode one, season one. Cant get enough of it... Buy the seasons as soon as they come out on dvd. Save certain episodes on my tivo... I still have the season finale from season 3... and yeah, I've watched it more than a handful of times. One of the reasons I love this show so much, aside from the fantastically witty and catty Sandrah Oh, is because they always have the best music that is just about to break into the mainstream. Artists that you haven't ever heard of, but that obviously have quite a bit of talent. I am all about these people. I know I have a weird taste when it comes to music...

In my twenties I was all about the pop music. I don't mean pop like Shitney Beers (Britany) or Sluttina Imawhore-a (Christina), nor do I mean the Backdoor Boys or N'Stink. I'm mean actual musicians that use their instruments instead of dance moves to make their music. I never really had much respect for musicians that couldn't make music without a producer. I'm talking about bands like Matchbox 20, Third Eye Blind, Cyndi Lauper, Elton John... you know that kind of pop music.

My parents were both musicians. And hippies. So I was raised with the singer songwriters of the 60's and 70's. That was the era, as my dad so consistently points out, when men were men... and rock and roll was rock and roll. As much as I hate to admit this (and I will never hear the end of it the next time I talk to him), he is right. Those people really knew how to make some amazing music. It was before the time of the single and the industry drive for a top 10 hit. It was a time when people made music to say something, when they made an album an event, and when artists took the time to create concept albums that took a story and stretched it over all the songs.

I will go into my diatribe about concept albums later.. but this post is about the Ingrid, William and the Utah Hotel, so lets get on with it shall we.

My roommate Travis is as obsessed with Grey's as I am, if not more. He actually goes to the computer while watching it to see who is singing in the background. Well when we watched the season finale he fell in love with the girl that sang the closing song. I liked the song and thought that she had some talent. He told me that she was coming to SF in a couple weeks and invited me to go with him. The ticket was only $10 so I said hell yeah!

Neither of us had ever been inside the Utah Hotel before so we didn't know what kind of venue it was or how many seats there were. We got there a bit early and went inside. Hmmm... how do I put this delicately? Easily the shittiest venue I have ever been in, ever. So, I am guessing they had somewhere in the vicinity of 15 good seats. And even though we got there early, all the good seats were already taken. When I say good seats, what I mean is benches against a wall with a table. Not even any seat cushions. Travis and I ended up sitting on cold concrete stairs in the emergency exit, with a cold breeze blowing in from the gap at the bottom of the door and blowing straight down my fuckin butt-crack. Yeah, shitty.

The venue itself had room for about fifty people... if they took all the tables out. There was a balcony where you could fit another ten or fifteen people that was literally about 7 feet high. So yeah... I had to duck at a couple places. The cherry on the top were the beams. They had about four beams supporting the balcony RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM!!! Seriously??? They blocked pretty much every seat from a full view of the stage. They even turned the front beam, the one closest to the stage, into a bench. It would take someone I really really really want to see to make me go back into that venue.

Now... thats about enough bitching about the venue... Lets talk about Ingrid and William. No, they are not in the same band. She was on first and he followed. Both were very good. Ingrid Michaelson started her set off with a great song called "Die Alone". I liked it then, but since then I have had the cd on and I cant stop listening to that song... the lyrics are really poingniant to me right now. Lyrics like: I never thought I could love anyone but myself / Now I know I can love anyone... but you. / But you... make me think that maybe I won't die alone / Maybe I won't die alone.

She is going places I am telling you now. I don't know if she will become a household name, but she has me buying her next album. When she was done... the only good thing about the venue presented itself. She had nowhere to go but into the audience. It was great, I chatted with her, she signed my cd. When William Fitzsimmons took the stage I cleared Ingrid a seat right next to me and she sat there until she had to run up and sing back-up. It was cool, it made it much more personal. Like a group of friends getting together at a local bar to show each other what they can do.

Now William, he is a master with his composition. His music even without lyrics is beautiful and inspirational. His lyrics are personal and at times quite touching, and while he has a sweet tenor voice... I felt that he hadn't quite found his voice yet. There were moments in his songs where there were these sweeping crescendo's and his voice just didn't rise to the occasion. I wanted to see him express more emotion with his voice, not just with his lyrics. I mean here he was singing a song called "You broke my heart" and I hear the pain in the words, but the voice is just that sweet tenor that had nowhere to go. I am going to keep an eye on him because he is very talented, I will give him one more chance on another CD. But I want to hear him break loose of that one voice. The album "Goodnight" is fantastic background music. It makes me smile when I am not paying attention.

So... hmmm... let me see if I can find a nice poetic way to wrap this whole experience up... hmmm.... yeah. Ok here it is: Buy Ingrid's album "Boys and Girls" you wont regret it. Download William's album from iTunes, put it on in the background and do something else. And for christ's sweet sake... unless you want the musician in your lap... avoid going to shows at the Hotel Utah!!!

Thanks for a great and unique time Travis. I'm out!

A moment with W

I wanted to get this down... this one moment that is forever etched into my mind. One of the most beautiful moments that I have ever had...

I had this friend, we will call him W, mostly because I'm not that clever and that is what his name started with. We met several years ago in a bar. He is of course one of the most beautiful men I have ever met. The first couple times I talked to him I was smitten. He was hot, great body, smart and funny... so yeah... totally out of my league and I totally wanted him.

Well the first few times we hung out in the bar, it was a lot of fun. He even brought his own baby bottles of booze, yeah I think I had one or two. It still makes me laugh when I think about it. The two of us trying to be coy. Drinking out of little bottles while standing in the middle of a crowded bar. Although, he was much more clever than I. He figured out a way to do it. Buy one drink and just keep refilling it where he stood. I knew he had a boyfriend and I was just being friendly. Not every day I get someone that looks like this talking to me, so naturally I was loving every minute of it. Eventually he became single and I started seeing him at the bars more and we started hanging out more.

One night I told him that if he ever needed to, he could crash at my place. At that time I lived about two blocks from the main Castro drag. It was exceedingly easy for me to wobble home wasted. He lived in Berkeley so it wasn't quite so easy for him. Well one night he took me up on my offer, and it is that night that I wanted to talk about now.

I had this great bedroom in an otherwise scary dirty flat. I didn't really like to bring guys over because of the state that my roommates kept the place in, but I made an exception for W. We get back to my place and turn the tv on... I offer him a pair of boxers and a t-shirt to sleep in (of course he doesn't wear shirts to bed - torture me why don't you!) and while he changed, I pulled out the bed in the couch. Yeah, ok... I peeked. It was like a magnet, anytime human flesh is exposed I am convinced that the color of it acts like a magnet to the pupil. It draws your eyes in... So you see I really had no choice but to watch him change!

I knew it was not the most comfortable thing to sleep on, that couch, but I didn't want to presume that he wanted to sleep in my bed with me. So we both laid down and got ready to sleep and seriously not five minutes went by before W got up and came to the bed. He said that I was right the couch bed was uncomfortable and if he could just sleep in the bed with me... tell me if you could have held in the "HELL YES" for the five seconds that I managed.

We laid together for a few minutes talking about nothing in particular and then started to drift off... well, he started to drift off. The second that he got in the bed I was wide awake. We lay silent for a while, I listened to the sound of his breathing as he slept, I tried to fall asleep myself. This is when the moment began...

I remember looking at him sleeping... I remember turning towards him... When I turned, he woke a little bit. Just enough to turn on his side facing me. There we were, facing each other in bed our faces just inches apart... I couldn't see if his eyes were open or closed, and his breathing suggested that he was still sleeping. But then out of nowhere he bent forward and kissed me. Twice, right on the lips.

Those were the only kisses we exchanged and they were very innocent. Just two quick pecks on the lips, no tounge and just a second of lingering. I put my arms around his chest and pulled him close to me. He was easy to move, all I had to do was suggest with my hands where to go, and that is where he went. When I wanted to roll him over, I just gave a gentle push and he rolled. There was no sex, no lustful grabbing, no heavy petting. In fact nothing below the waist was touched. All movement was refined to our breathing, our moving to another position and to my eyes.

I never slept a wink that night.

He was, and to this day remains, the most comfortable person that I have ever slept with. That first night was full of sensory overload for me... I wanted to memorize him there, I didn't think I would ever have him in that position again. I rubbed his back as he slept, and ran my hands over his hair. I stroked his cheek and chin with my finger. W was a big muscular guy, just a couple inches shorter than me, but somehow that night, reality seemed to give pause. I remember one moment when he was facing away from me and I was rubbing his back, I felt tiny next to him. I don't know how but he seemed so huge and real next to me and I felt like a small little boy. He turned toward me and wrapped his huge arms around me and put my head on his chest, our legs intertwining.

That one night, was the best night I ever spent with someone else in my bed. The next morning waking up with his arms wrapped around me... well, you can imagine the euphoric high that I felt. You ever have one of those nights with someone where it just makes you feel like everything is right in the world and that everyone, including you, will find those moments that forever freeze in your mind. We got up, and it wasn't awkward. It wasn't weird... he smiled and asked where he could brush his teeth. I showed him to the bathroom and then went back to my bed and just lay there dazed.

We went to breakfast, and walked around for a while. Every guy that we passed on the street made some kind of look or pass at him, and he didn't even notice... He was in a conversation with me, and all the guys ogling him that morning didn't matter. It was a perfect night and day. Things came after and eventually we stopped talking to each other. It makes me sad still... But there is this one night in my head, and every time I think about the bad things that happened between us later... I try to remember the way I felt that first night.

I felt happy. I felt fulfilled. I felt loved. I feel grateful that I got to experience something like that at all.

Most of all though, it was just nice to be not alone for a while...

my damn fatass!!!!

Mediocre. That is really the word. The word that has plagued me all my life. The one thing that I knew I never wanted to be. The one thing that scared me the most. Mediocre. And look at me. If I died tomorrow a few people would notice and a few people would cry. But by and large, there would be nothing. I have lived a quiet life of mediocrity.

I made myself a life here in San Francisco that a lot of people are envious of... I live the glamorous life. I travel, I dine out, I see shows, I sit home alone every night. Well... I had to throw something true into that sentence didn't I? Yeah... I do. I sit home and watch tv almost every night. In fact the only thing that I have any real knowledge of is movies. I have spent years watching movies. You ask me an actor I can probably tell you at least five different movies he has been in. Hell, sometimes I can even tell you the character name! But... sadly... that knowledge doesn't get me much.

I know, I know... I should get some sort of job either reviewing movies or something in the entertainment field. And while I have entertained that idea I already know what they will say. "You have no experience. You have no education. And you cant spell." I can spell... I just don't always spell correctly.

I have spent my life surviving.

That is what I am truly talented at. Doing just enough so that people think I am competent. Doing just enough so that people keep me around. I have hated every single job I have ever had. But I have survived work because I cant survive without it. Thankfully I have never been in a relationship... I have never been responsible for anyone but myself. I think that has helped fuel my laziness. My complete lack of desire to get off my ass is the one thing that I can absolutely rely on.

Its not that I don't have dreams. Oh how I wish I could make music, but I cant get off my ass to learn an instrument. Which of course feed my belief that one cant make music unless one can play an instrument. I know, I totally made that up. But in my mind, it is rational. Same thing goes for being an actor. I wanted nothing else for so long and yet, I never do anything about it. I have been in one play in 10 years. If I really wanted it, I could have it. Well, that's not really accurate. I do want it, I just want it to come to me.

I have become numb.

I don't seem to care about pretty much anything. For a long time I cared about the fact that I have never been loved. I worried about it, I cried about it... and for a while I even tried to do something about it. But I have become so numb in my life that I honestly don't care. I don't know if I will ever be loved and I am ok with it. I think that should scare the shit out of me, but all I can manage is this stupid little smirk as I shrug my shoulders.

I got it.

I know what it is.

I know what has stopped me from accomplishing the thing I dream about.

I am fat and I am lazy.

Yeah, that really is it. I don't act because I don't like the look of myself on camera. I don't get my picture taken because it makes me look fat. I don't go balls out for a music career because if I did become successful a lot of people would see my fat ass. That is the start. The beginning of my problems. I can recognize it and yet I am completely powerless to do a single thing about it. Not because I cant... but because I don't.

Someone tell me how to get me off my fat ass and up and running towards something. I know that it isn't too late to accomplish the things I want. Unless of course I don't get off my fat ass to accomplish them.


Ok... lighter fare on the next post... I promise.

I don't know what I am going to do with my life.

It seems like I have wasted so much time. I have been here 31 years already and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. I mean seriously. Nothing.

I am good at nothing. I finish nothing. I wish I had been able to actually accomplish something. But I have been lazy all my life. The only thing I ever worked on with any commitment was myself, and if I am going to be completely honest here... I cheated a lot of the time on that subject. Well lets see if I can use this instrument to figure out where I went wrong and why I failed myself.

I would say it all started in childhood, but that seems like such a common cliche, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure that is when it started. I mean sure, I had a rough childhood (I don't know anyone who didn't), but I don't think that is it. I think the bravest thing I ever did is something I did as an adult. I joined the Navy. Even there in the example of my bravery lies my faults. I joined the Navy because my life was spiraling out of control. I was homeless, I was lazy, I couldn't/wouldn't hold down a job and it seemed like I was going to either end up dead or in prison.

So I did something drastic to change it all... and for a while... it did. The curse of incompleteness followed me there as well. I found a job where you cant get fired, and I ended up getting fired. Jesus, talk about a loser! I have been so complacent and boring with my life. I was bound for greatness in my youth. They all said it, counselors, teachers, my parents. I was either going to be something special or I was going to be something evil. Sadly, I am pretty sure that I fell smack dab in between those two things and ended up being mediocre.

to be continued...