Homer'sWorld

At the County Fair I dragged my friends right to the livestock barn so I could ohhh and ahhh over the chickens. The first thing inside the very roomy barn were the alpacas, which made ne think of Wayne.


Alpacas.

But the moment I saw the goats I went all gaga. I love goats. Hi, my name is Homer and I am a goat-a-holic. Baby goats make me talk gibberish. It is hard to focus the digital camera (which is self focusing) when baby goats are jumping around being cute and all. You just want to bring them home and squeeze them tight so they stay the same size and hopefully don't chew on your curtains or poop on the bed.


One of many adorable baby goats.

I then had to run over and pet the Jersey calves, one of whom was very friendly and just wanted to have his chin scratched. You can send the farm boy to the city sorta thing.


"My chin itches."

After we left the barn and ate some crappy ice cream we met up with the other homos and the rest of the night was spent eating more crappy food, staring at all of the hot, hot, uber hot straight men, and riding rides covered with bright colored lights.


Step right up and see the Homosexuals! Back row- Jim, John, and Frank. Front row- Blake, John G., Jeffrey, Ray, and Duke.

None of my pictures of hot straight guys came out very well, so you'll have to look at this picture of hot gay guys and pretend.


John and Ray.

Ohmigod! Foreigner was playing at the fair and they were really good. I mean, they sounded great and their new drummer was Mr. Hottie Bear Drummer and I was obnoxious and called Brian during "Urgent" and recorded a snippet on his answering machine.


Saint John G.

I took lots of pictures because the pretty carnival lights made everything pretty. I wish I knew what happened to my big memory card, because my small memory brain seems to have misplaced it. Otherwise I would have taken many, many more pictures.


Homer and Jeffrey.

At the very end I was able to actually get on the giant Ferris wheel, partly because of peer pressure (I hadn't gone on any rides because I get motion sickness so easy), but also partly because John and Duke were going and it was a moment to sit down and actually talk. My feet were hurting by this time. Plus John is easy on the eyes.


John joins the 150 ft high club.

It is difficult to compress all of the sights, smells, sounds of the fair. I'd forgotten how much fun you can have, tempered with the need to not step in ride-induced vomit and sadness over the seal show. I think I'll go back next year. Wanna come along?

This morning I had to hang around for a while so I could stop by the bank and deposit checks. I actually like going because the uber cute teller, Brett, has pretty eyes and short, thick brown hair that I wouldn't mind running my hands through.

Homer and Seymour.

The pomegranate tree is busting out with flowers. I never water it enough and the pomegranates are hard and nasty by the end of summer. I really don't mind because I find that fruit difficult to eat and a bit messy.

Pomegranate blossoms.

The plants on my front porch are busy blooming. Little do they know we are supposed to reach 100 degrees in the next few days. Goodbye spring, the long hellish summer approaches.


Violets.

Last summer was the "Summer of Being Tan." I haven't decided on a theme for this coming summer. Any suggestions?

Oh my, someone found my blog by searching "The best sites for brigitte neilsen porno." I ranked number one on that search. Nice. Too bad that I don't have any Brigitte porno for that person to stare at. Ewwww, that would be a nightmare anyways.

Are all gay men turning into porn stars? When we were in San Francisco, Brett announced he really wanted to see one. Moby told him to just stand still, "They are everywhere here." Sure enough, along came three or four, including Michael Brandon (he's pretty handsome in person). A lot of the pictures you see on online profiles look like they came right off the cover of a porn DVD.

I'm not ready for my cover shot, anyhow.

Are horticulturalists whores? The two words kinda sound alike. Maybe Jimbo can tell me. This is important for me to know because I seem to have become somewhat green-thumby this spring. Seymour the Artichoke is busy making artichokes, I discovered the second one this morning. My potatoes are HUGE. Not that I am a potato size queen but I do start to breathe slightly harder as I am watering them.

Seymour.

The hollyhocks I planted in October are blooming like crazy. Amazingly, some are double hollyhocks, when single hollyhocks would do me just fine. If only hot guys were attracted to flowers like the Africanized bees that climb in for a drink and take away some pollen.

Jeff was kind enough to demonstrate what I often do when I see a Hummer.

Flippin' off the Homer.

I don't have that problem, no one flips off a Saturn and I don't have any bumper stickers or Jesus Fish or I Support Our Troops by Buying This Yellow Ribbon and Basically Pretending There Is No War ribbons.

The trusty Saturn is theeeee most boring car ever. It is nowheres near as sexy as Moby's motorcyle. Next time I come visit him in SF he has to take me on a ride. I promise to hold on real tight so I don't fall off.

I also promise to fix Moby's toilet, but in return he has to take me t-shirt shopping so I can find some fun t-shirts. I swear, all the guys in SF have snappy t-shirts with cute, controversial things on them.

In other news, my artichoke plant Seymour is HUGE! (That's one of my favorite lines from Girls Will Be Girls). I'll post a picture tomorrow.

My trip in pictures. Well I'm back in Tucson. Sigh. It is hot. A swarm of ants invaded my car at the parking lot. The litter box needs to be changed and Joey vomited shortly after I returned home (is that a sign of something?).

In contrast, I had a good time in San Francisco. Met many nice people, saw some interesting sites, had some interesting conversations, and remembered why I hate it when people arbitrarily decide to split the restaurant bill equally.

Tony, who enjoys reading blogs enough to come and pick Brett and I up at the airport, deserves an Academy Award for picking us up at the airport. Moby was at work when we arrived, so we went out and did a little exploring on our own.


Brett, Fidel, and Tony.

At the Midnight Sun. Fidel liked to talk about trains. I had four gin and tonics and you know, my tolerance for alcohol is sooooo low. Brett and I stayed up and hung out with Moby and he is a doll. In the late 70s he would have been a fox, in the 80s, a babe. And dear sweet Brett, he's a cutey. I loved lying around chatting with him, if you go to his podcasts you can hear his dreamy voice.


Brett and Brandon.

On Saturday we had brunch at Harvey's and met some other bloggers and even a reader of my blog, Jeff. Jeff is nice enough to forgive me for saying nasty things about Hummers, I didn't know he had one. I forgot to wear my black t-shirt to lunch, I forgot how popular black is in big cities. But wait, I don't have a black t-shirt! I'm more of a gray t-shirt guy. Black t shirts would about fry you here in Tucson.


Chad and Moby.

Chad was there and like all bloggers, was charming and cute. He looks like a straight guy I knew in grad school, only better looking and not-so-much an alcoholic. Later, he and I, while a little tipsy, discovered we had the same sordid experience recently. And amazingly enough, he is good friends with Brett's cousin. Very small world without animatronic thingys.


Brett, jumping the shark?

Picture posing ensued. I suggested that Brett's photo set involve jumping, but soon discovered my camera doesn't take pictures fast enough. I have many pictures of him getting ready to jump, some of him landing, and this is the only one of him in the air.


Moby.

Later, at Rob and Fuad's housewarming party, I admired the beautiful view, including Moby standing on the balcony. I like the way he dresses, I admired his shirts and in the picture below I'm wearing one of them. Did I mention how sweet he is? It seemed that a lot of the guys that I met grew up on farms, Brett, Moby, and I all have rural backgrounds.


Homer and Rob.

Rob is another sweetie. I had fun at the party and demonstrated to Brett my conversation skills. When you meet someone for the first time, ask them a question- it can be anything. A guy named Patrick was asked, "Tell me about your most exciting car ride." And his story was fascinating. People like to tell stories, it is a great way to meet someone.


Homer and Andrew.

Sunday morning I had brunch with Andrew. We've been exchanging emails for a year or two and he is as nice in person as he is via the internet.

We went out to the Eagle and Lone Star Sunday afternoon and I saw several cute redheads, three porn stars, some drag queens, and the cutest-guy-in-plaid-shirt-ever, but he liked guys with enormous bellies. I watched with envy (of the enormous-bellied guy), as the cutest-guy-in-plaid-shirt-ever rubbed his hand around the enormous belly. However, on the way out of the bar I was kissed by three guys, so I wasn't all bitter. I whispered a secret into Jeff's ear right before I left. Sometimes secrets are worth sharing.


Rose.

Vacations always have to end [insert sigh here]. I promised Brett I would come see him in Louisiana. And I don't think I will wait 5 years to go back to SF, there are a lot of reasons to go back and visit.

The guys are off at the gym and I stayed home and ran around picking up our mess in Moby's apartment. His place is bright and sunny and quite spacious, compared to other apartments I've seen in SF and NYC.

Whirlwind of activities- Brett has pictures on his blog. Yesterday I had the pleasure of meeting several bloggers including Chad and Brandon. Ohmigod, they are cuties. My one regret is not asking Brandon if I could squeeze his hunky bicep.

This morning I had brunch with my buddy Andrew. I should so move to SF (when I win the lotto). I think finding a boyfriend here would be easier than Tucson, although the Candy Store factor might be a problem.

Speaking of Candy Store, Moby and Brett are the sweetest guys ever.

When I get back to Tucson I'll post some pictures. Right now I think I'll go take a disco nap.

I love San Francisco. The hills, the old homes, the old homos. And the younger and middle aged ones. I really like the diversity of people. But I don't know how people can afford to live here. Housing is so pricey. How does someone make enough to buy a home here?

In other news, I went out to UC Berkeley and found the Spanish document I was looking for. That is a beautiful campus- much nicer than U of Arizona or U of Michigan.

The guys are pretty nice here in San Francisco too. Moby is a doll (but not in a Chuckie sorta way). Tonight I was walking down the street and there was Andrew W., who I've been chatting with online for a couple of years. We are going to have lunch tomorrow. Brett and I are going with Moby to Rob and Fuad's housewarming party. I think we'll be meeting some other bloggers, it should be a super time.

Just a quick note to say that Brett and Moby and I are having a nice time hanging out. Visit their blogs for details.

You would laugh if you heard me watching Amazing Race tonight. I was yelling at people on the television. "Hurry!" "Shut up and go!"

American Idol is on in the living room and to tell you the truth I don't care who wins. I've never been into that show, perhaps because I have NO SINGING TALENT. I know, big surprise (well, unless you've heard me at karoake).

I'm packing tonight to go to SF tomorrow to hang out with Brett and Moby. What shameful events will take place? Perhaps lips will be sealed, I dunno, you'll just have to wait and see.

Say hello to Owen. Kristen and Avi reproduced quite nicely, their little boy Owen is charming and sat on my lap for over a half hour without making any baby messes.

Avi and Owen.

Owen kinda looks like an elf- hey Jimbo, are elves ever born to humans?

I chatted with Archerr last night and if you want to hear our conversation you can listen to his podcast. It is a very typical phone call between the two of us- I usually call him on the way home from work and we catch up a couple of times a week. I can't wait to go to DC this summer and hang out with him and Jimbo.

I'm having a Martha Stewart day. My mother sent me Martha's Baking Handbook. So lovely with pictures of high-fat baked goods. Just what I need. And when I arrived home there was the new issue of Martha Stewart Living in my mailbox. Ohmigod, so packed full of beautiful recipes. Unfortunately, I can never replicate the appearance of the foods- this is why the next boyfriend needs some skills in food styling. Are you paying attention?

So I made Cream of Onoin soup for dinner and it was very good. Very oniony and creamy and I know I reek but this is not a Smell-O-Rama-Blog, thank goodness. Anyhow, I then sat down at the computer and watched various music videos on the YouTube website. I re-lived the mid 1980s with Bronski Beat and Pet Shop Boys and participated in today's music world by watching Madonna writhe around in her Sorry video, which I really enjoyed. She rollerskated and danced. The only time I ever rollerskated I fell down really hard. Over and over again. Same thing with ice skating. I guess I'm just not built for skating.

I need to lay off the eggs, speaking of Smell-O-Rama. But I still have 18 hard boiled eggs to get rid off. Ohmigod! YouTube has the Obsession video by Animotion! Geez, I love mid-1980s music.

Such were the thoughts running through my head tonight.

The Egg Decorating and Egg Hunt party was so gay. I mean, eleven guys busy dipping eggs in dye and making elaborate designs. However, I don't think eggs with "Fuck you" and "Nibble me" written on them are typically associated with this particular holiday.


Vince, Brady and Patrick.

No messes were made. Mollie enjoyed several treats and was generally spoiled. Puff and Joey had to spend most of the time locked up in their bathroom.


Shane and Victor.

Victor hadn't been to the house before. He and his boyfriend are house hunting. I'm trying to encourage other gay guys to move to my neighborhood- wouldn't it be fun if it became a gayborhood?


Hunting eggs in the backyard.

The guys ran through the backyard hunting eggs. I think they only missed a couple.


Kyle.

Kyle managed to get the most points (44) and won the very brightly colored baskets with fun stuff. Everyone else (Vince, Brady, Patrick, Jeffrey, Peter, Shane, Victor, Jim, and Chris) seemed to have had a swell time. I was even able to get rid of all but 22 of the eggs. What I am going to do with 22 eggs is a mystery yet to be solved.


Non-denominational boiled chicken ova with applied colors.

Caption contest. My esteemed Senator, John McCain really, really likes George Bush.



My caption: "Please don't squeeze the Charmin." What say you?

Early morning gardening show. My vegetable garden is going insane. The artichoke and the potatoes are growing upward and outward. I'm having a Little Shop of Horror moment.


Artichoke and potatoes.

Meanwhile, I've got purple irises next to my front porch. These are my favorite flowers- if you were to buy me a big bouquet of them, well that would get my attention.

Purple iris.

Back in northern Michigan they grow wild in wet spots. I transplanted a bunch to the ditch in front of our house, when we lived in the Upper Pensinsula, and the last year I was there they were busy blooming. One of the few pleasant things about that place (except for my beautifudl friend Michele!).

Geez my house is hot. I guess the warm weather is catching up to me, plus I boiled 71 eggs. The 72nd egg was stuck in the carton. I'm having an Egg Decorating party on Saturday. Also planning an Egg Hunt- I'll be hiding about 100 plastic eggs in my back yard. If you are coming to the party, no peeking!

When I was a kid Easter was exciting because it meant chocolate. We were poor and there wasn't much money for candy. So getting a chocolate Easter bunny meant a lot to me. Just thinking about that- my mother cared enough to save a little money to get me something special. Because I was the youngest of five she gave up most of the children's holiday stuff (tooth fairy, egg hunt, Halloween) when I was pretty young. But even as a teenager she made sure I had a chocolate bunny. Here I am at 42 and it still makes me teary to think that my mother loved me that much.

My front garden. Last week, now the irises and tulips are mostly dried up. I noticed today that the sage was growing. There is also chives and rosemary. Last time I looked the thyme and oregano needed to be replaced.


Meanwhile my back garden has gone crazy, the artichoke and the potatoes fighting with each other, trying to grow leaves quick enough to escape being shaded out.

Hmmm, I think an herb quiche is in order for Saturday's Easter Egg dyeing party.

At the Immigration March there were grandmothers, young mothers pushing strollers, a veteran in a wheelchair, several young men making funny sounds with a rolled up poster, and so on.


Marchers.

It took two hours to walk 28 blocks. Perhaps 15,000 or 20,000 people- the biggest protest Tucson has seen. I left after 28 blocks, I hadn't worn a hat and my head was sunburnt bright red.

My ancestors came from England, Germany, Ireland, Switzerland, and Holland. The first came over in 1609 to Jamestown. The last arrived in New York City in 1862.


Passenger list, S. R. Peel, 24 June 1862.

They came to escape religious persecution, to escape military conscription, and to search for better economic opportunities than were offered to peasants and linen weavers in old Europe. One of my great-great-great-great grandparent's children died on the 10 week sail across the ocean.

The people I marched with today have similar stories. They have now made lives in the United States. They want to be citizens. I say let them, let the grandmothers and young mothers and young men making funny noises achieve their dreams.

Back in the old days the trip north from Tucson to Phoenix (then spelled Phenix) was fraught with danger- bandits and Apaches and lack of water all made it a daring and sometimes fatal excursion. Nowadays I fire up the trusty gray Saturn and drive north, past the new suburbs and the ever-crowded IKEA and wonder how people manage to live in that megalopolis.

I had breakfast with Brian in Scottsdale and enjoyed banana pancakes and chocolate milk.

Dawn-Marie's self portrait.

Afterwards we wandered around a park and took pictures of flowers.
Homer and Brian look at their own cameras.

I thought of Jimbo 'cause there was a great blue heron standing in a pool of water, perhaps 15 ft away from me:


Urban blue heron.

I then drove across town to hang out with RJ, whose beau was busy playing softball. Ohmigod, he's adorable in a handsome, sexy way. We drove back into Phoenix to meet Marc for lunch. Marc turns out also to be adorable. As was the blond, gay waiter from Minnesota. I discreetly stare at him. Why are all the cute guys from Wisconsin and Minnesota???

Marc, RJ, and Homer after lunch.

RJ's beau's team had lost by the time we got back to the softball place. I need to hang out with gay softball teams more often. I think the appropriate word is "woof."

Afternoon nap.

Joey and Homer.

Auf Wiedersehen, good bye! For the last couple years I've been watching The Amazing Race with David and Abe and Dougie. Well, David and Abe are off on their own amazing race and moving across the Atlantic Ocean to Barcelona.


Homer, Abe, David, and Dougie at the starting line.

I'm hoping that they get through the Roadblocks successfully and that nobody yields them!

As an aside that may interest Chas, David once starred in a horror movie.(sorry David!)

Parasite.

I'll miss my buddies, they've been there when I needed friends. But I'm happy they are going to have a great adventure. I'll be seeing you guys soon!

Brady lost his schwarma cherry tonight. I took him to Ali Baba's for dinner and he seems to like Middle Eastern food.


Homer and Brady.

Patrick's up in Denver, so we hung out afterwards and watched television and played with Patrick's cat. Boy, that cat is going to be surprised when Brady's dog moves in.

My brother is his community's correspondent to a couple of Amish newspapers (my older brother joined the Amish ten years ago). I get both papers and often they are painful to read- young men getting horribly injured in farming accidents, drunk drivers smashing buggies, runaway horses and so on. I'm so glad I live in a civilized city where all I have to worry about are car accidents, road rage, drive by shootings, and home invasions. In other Amish news, the maple trees aren't producing much sap so the men are spreading manure.I did my share of that growing up on the farm, nowadays I get grossed out cleaning the litter box.

Late breaking news.

I made a coconut cream pie last night. My next boyfriend better like desserts and it would help if he was a food stylist.


Coconut cream.

I've been reading Steve and Al's blog lately- I recommend it highly (plus Steve's a redhead!).

I dunno why but I'm addicted to exclamation points!!!

The "illegal" immigrant issue- so over it. Let's legalize the people that are here. Let's spend money and open schools in Mexico to educate people and create a middle class there. Let's require American companies that move to Mexico to pay a living wage and provide healthcare coverage and obey the same environmental rules that we have. Until Mexico gets dragged forward, a task made difficult by the rich and corrupt people running the show (which the US is becoming), people are going to keep streaming across the border. Blah, blah, blah.

I need a date.

Andrew Sullivan (no, I am not his clone!) posted a letter on his blog:

"As a 21 year old, Ivy-educated gay man, I find it interesting, albeit predictable, that older gay men are lamenting the death of gay culture. Frankly, I'll be much happier once drag shows and camp goes out the window. Unfortunately, I feel sincerely that the prevalence of sex shops and theaters, the celebration of farcical dress, and the obsession older gays have with a separate minority identity have done little outside give fodder to the religious right and keep us out of the mainstream. In fact, I feel that the older generation has done a great disservice by not giving us real role models and, instead, taking joy in anonymous sex in darkened theaters, dissolution of the family model, and wallowing in outrageousness. All of these things have contributed to a gay culture wherein I, as a politically active, liberal, professional, educated, monogamous, partnered, JCrew/LL Bean wearing, HIV Negative man am an unfortunate minority.

How am I supposed to support gay leadership when they seemingly endorse a culture of death (excessive partying, no interest in children, HIV, anonymous sex, etc.) and lament whenever another pit of self disrespect (i.e. sex shops/theaters, drag theaters) is closed? I truly love you and your words, Andrew, but enough is enough. Let us move on together and create a real culture with a real future and abandon the culture of separatist victimization we were forced into years ago by a repressive society."

Reading this made me pretty angry. This 21-year-old has no sense of history. Not to call names, but he's a fucking (in a partnered, monogamous way) brat. Plus he thinks that wearing JCrew/LL Bean is somehow acceptable. Not so!!!

Anyhows, let's see- he's 21, that means he was born in 1985. Jesus F. Christ, that's the year I came out of the closet. In 1985. In January, actually. At that time there hadn't been a single positive portrayal of homosexuals on the television. Rumors floated about the Elton John might be gay. I was attending a very liberal school- University of Michigan- but the straight guys on my hall still had the liberty to have a "No Fags" party which was advertised via posters across the entire campus. Lots of people came and got really, really drunk- and I'm pretty sure that all of those LL Bean/JCrew wearing guys and gals were straight, every single one of them. That's because I stayed in my room and was deeply humiliated because I was so chicken shit that I didn't do something to stop the party. The next week I came out of the closet.

When Mr. Professional, Monogamous, HIV negative Man was in grade school I was being called names in front of the Arizona State University school senate. I was a sodomite, according to the vice president. No one censured him, because of course he was right, since it was illegal in Arizona to have homo sex, even Monogamous, Partnered homo sex was against the law. But enough gays and lesbians made friends with enough friendly straight folks and altogether they lobbied the state government here in Arizona. The law was finally thrown out in May 2001. Almost five years ago. Cock sucking for Partnered, Monogamous Ivy League Men has been legal in Arizona for slightly less than five years. If certain homosexuals and lesbians and their straight friends hadn't pushed the issue, it would still be against the law.

When the letter writer was in his early teens the number of positive role models- on television, movies, out celebrities- had become so common that it was no longer even big news. He never knew what life was like before Queer Eye and Queer as Folk. I talked with Archerr about this on the way home from work- how Consenting Adult was so ground-breaking when it was originally aired in 1985. We were both glued to the television- "Look, the gay guy didn't kill himself or become an axe murderer!"

I don't know why this kid's letter bothers me, except as someone who does history for a living, I'm well aware of several trends:

-History repeats itself. This desire to be "normal" and fit in was pushed by the earliest homo rights people:


Gay Pioneers.

Just as it is being pushed today. It doesn't matter. The people who hate homos will hate us whether we wear JCrew/Ll Bean or drag. They may show more visible hatred of the drag queens/kings, but if you asked them about a hypothetical 21-year-old clean cut guy, the hatred would basically be at the same level. Just look at how much venom was directed toward Brokeback Mountain because the movie was about, gasp!, gay cowboys.

-People who don't know history often demonize the people who came before them (e.g., drag queens and sexed-up men), without understanding how their contributions (leading the Stonewall protests and AIDS awareness) allow modern day folks to lead better, more complete lives. Part of this is the inability to understand what life was like before you or I were around. Hell, I have no clue what people did before television and can barely remember what I did before the internet.

Civil Rights will continue to come our way, pushing forward, receding, pushing forward again. I just wish people like this kid would do more pushing and less whining.

I had a stomach ache when I woke up so I stayed home until I couldn't stand it anymore and drove over to work. I had been there only a few minutes when Deb and Mark, standing in Deb's cubicle next to mine, cried out, "There's a bobcat outside!" We all ran to the window and I got on the intercom to alert the rest of the office, then hurried down to another office with a less-crowded window. Val, our receptionist, took these photos.





I see rabbits, ground squirrels, and amorous collared lizards at the office often. Also Harris hawks. We used to have a roadrunner that was in love with the air conditioner unit. Before a bunch of new houses went in, there were a lot of vultures too. Still, seeing the bobcat was probably the most exciting wildlife I've ever seen at work.

And now I'm back home and the stomach ache continues.

A conversation with Brian and Homer. Ever take a camera and point it at yourself while on the phone?

"No, I'm not using the camera tripod you gave me in 2004 to take the pictures. Heheheheh, I said tripod!"


"ASTROPHYSICIST!"


"I agree, roller derby is more fun to watch than soccer!"



"Your barber rubbed himself on you?!?! Was he hot?"



"Those three awful words. Cat. Anal. Glands."

Oh it is Joey and Puff's sixth birthday and I forgot to get them a present! Six years ago this morning (also a Saturday morning, which is surprising) I awoke and heard little meows coming from the second bathroom.


Joey and Puff.

I'd made a nest in the bottom of the bathroom closet and Mama Cat had gone in and started popping out kittens. Puff and Joey were the first, followed by three others who eventually went to new homes.


Mama Cat.

They'll always be my little babies.