Homer'sWorld

Shortness of breath.

Shane gave me a pep talk tonight. Hmmmmm.

Mama Cat is being a complete bitch.

I like refried beans.

I bought a green suitcase because everyone else has black.

I'm a little lonely right now.

Somethings are embarassing to buy at the drugstore.

I wish I didn't grind my teeth at night.

Thanks Shane for caring.

Another day of digging at the triplex. Found lots of cool artifacts- some beautiful painted Hohokam pottery, a shell bird, some bright blue majolica. Today was the last day for this phase of the project. Geez it was hot in the afternoon. Can't wait for fall to really arrive.

I'm going to Washington, DC on Thursday to go to the National Archives, spend time with Pat & Diane and little Bridget, and see John G., who moved there in August and who I really miss. I love DC, I love the sound the subway cars make when you approach a station, I love the Library of Congress and the bug room at the Smithsonian. Maybe someday I'll get to live there again.

I talked with Shane on the way home from work. He says I need to landscape my front and backyards and that doing so would eliminate any boring moments in my life. I think he is right, the only problem being the fact that the Historical Society has 600 of my future-patio bricks as part of their Rio Nuevo, Rio Viejo exhibit. Shane's a remarkable guy, I'm glad he is my friend.



My yellow kitchen.

Quiet morning. I got to bed at a reasonable time last night after attending a pair of parties. Met two authors visiting Tucson including Felice Picano at Tom and Brian's new pool party. They were staying at Rich's house, where the second party was held. It was pretty sedate and I spent some time hanging out with David B. and Derek.

My usual Sunday routine is to get up, read the crappy Arizona Daily Star while eating a bowl of cereal, and then do household chores. Since the chores are already finished I am kinda at a loss for what to do.

A few days ago Shane interrupted me when I complained that I was bored. "How can someone like you be bored?" he asked. I took some time to think about this. I have a great job, a house that needs constant upkeep, five cats, friends, several time-consuming hobbies, tell stories in my head, am an internet news junky, listen to NPR while driving. And yet sometimes I feel "bored." Actually, I don't think boredom is correct, realistically it is a mild form of depression that comes and goes and is mainly a result of feeling lonely. It would be nice to have someone else to be around, to bounce ideas off of, to laugh at my silly jokes. And so I think I am switching to dating mode and hoping that there are some non-boring guys out there looking for the same.

Went and saw Rundown with Mark and John. It was an amusing escapist movie. And The Rock is so hot. I was surprised that he was actually a fairly good actor. Afterwards hung out for a while, then went to the Denture and saw a bunch of people I knew, spent some quality time with Shane and Brian.

This morning I have been so lazy. All the weekend chores are done so I have been hanging out with the cats and playing on the internet. What did I do before there was an internet? Honestly I can't remember.


Princess


Bear


Joey


Mama Cat


Puff

I have a crush on someone. The dictionary says a crush is "an intense but
usually short-lived infatuation." When I think about him my heart aches
pleasantly. I want to sit next to him, look into his pretty eyes, laugh at
his silly talk. I haven't felt these feelings in a long time- excitement,
longing, wonder. Of course it is all impossible, as many things are. And
perhaps the feelings will be short-lived. But I'm glad to have them, even if
for only a little while.



Today in my favorite yellow 65% polyester shirt.

Random thoughts: On the way home from work a Hummer pulled up next to me. Towering over my car, that expensive death on wheels is the ugliest waste of $50,000 that I can think of. Who would buy such a hulking piece of doodaa?

Rain has stopped and everything looks green again. I'll have to chop down weeds soon.

Panchesco's blog, Living Proof, is filled with beautiful images and amazing writing.

King George's approval ratings are the lowest they have ever been. What a pity. Molly Ivins wrote a piece on why she hates him. I would have to agree. Look what that pathetic piece of crap has done to our country. Ruined the economy through reckless tax cuts, ruined all of the post 9-11 good will, every word from his administration is straight out of George Orwell's nightmare world of 1984.

Pulled a few more old linoleum pieces from the Triplex. The pattern is my favorite, brown with yellow and blue flowers, and so I will be making a few more pieces. I showed a couple of people the art today and they, like most others, really liked it.



Colonel and Ada, circa 1889, Traverse City, Michigan.

The hurricane rain has continued for most of the day. Many of the north-south streets become little rivers and driving up Tucson Blvd this morning was a real treat. But I don't care cause I am in a good mood (extraneous thought, why don't the words "good" and "mood" rhyme?). Why the good mood? It's a funny story. Someone I know has been dating this guy for over a year and his boyfriend always seemed cold and distant. I always thought he despised me, hated me. Sometimes I would puzzle over why this was the case. I thought maybe he thought I was a nerd (which I am) or just someone not worth being friends with.

Well, as it turns out, the reason he was always quiet around me is because he thought I was hot and perhaps a little threatening in that way. What a hoot! Anyway, we have started talking and I have discovered that he is a really nice person, smart and charming and cute, and I am really glad to have him as a friend. Lesson learned: assumptions can be absolute shit.

Hurricane Marty has come up from the Sea of Cortez and is dropping a slow, steady drizzle of water on Tucson. I spent a few minutes outside, the air damp with the smell of my dirt frontyard, momentarily overpowering the pungent smell of the chives blooming in my herb garden. The stucco on the outside of the house traps water in its cracks. The ground in my neighborhood occasionally moves, a result of groundwater pumping, and the fired adobe walls of my house twist and shift, cracks opening up and closing. My dining room wall has a major crack that recently snaked up, splitting the red and gold paint. It seems to be shrinking now, and I fret about it less and less.

Joey peers out the dining room window, trying to figure out what I am doing and why I am not inside admiring her beautiful orange coat. When I come inside all of the cats circle me, Mama Cat insisting on sitting on my lap. I scratch her for a while and then she wanders off, replaced by pretty little Princess. Sometimes I feel that having five cats is like having five bratty kids. And other times I feel so lucky to have these special friends.


Standing in the rain.


Homer's house on South Palomas Avenue.

I'm filthy dirty, just back from a day of digging at the triplex. The work conditions are cramped, the situation sometimes bizarre (we have to actually burrow under the foundations of the 1860s house before the new foundations are laid). And we are finding a lot of stuff- artifacts ranging from pieces of brightly colored majolica, Hohokam pottery, an occasional arrow, and features- places where the Hohokam dug postholes and pits to make their homes roughly a thousand years ago. It's a good time and we are finding out that the downtown area was probably really heavily occupied, something that we kinda knew, but this recent work makes much clearer.

So now I have to shower and scrub the dirt out of my pores and blow it out of my nose. I'll probably feel a lot better when I am cleaned up, perhaps better enough to wash those dishes from Thursday night's dinner party. Blech. Why is it so much easier to wash old battered artifacts than it is to wash one's newly dirtied dishes?

Nature. Spent last night camping near the Rincon mountains in a grove of Arizona walnut and sycamore trees. I had gone over to Curtis's house and helped him pack up his yard sale and then did the "Hurry, hurry!" thing and got over to Gavin's house at 5:25. Besides Curtis and I, Shane and Brian, Gavin and Kevin, Kent, and Vince made up the company. We drove down and arrived after dark, set up camp, and partied a little (actually a lot). Lesson no. 1). DO NOT collect fire wood while drunk because a nasty cholla cactus limb can look remarkably like wood. Ouch, I have about 19 little spines in my hand that burn like bejesus.


Vince, Shane, and Brian at the campfire.

Lots of nature. It was big grasshopper mating season. They were everywhere on the road out, taking their time to amble along. Why did the grasshopper cross the road? So I could run them over, I guess. Also saw hawks, turkey vultures, and three deer on the way out. Despite the recent monsoon, it was very dry.


Giant grasshopper.

In the morning Eric and Dan showed up and most of us went on a hike.


Eric.

Lesson no. 2): Find out how long the hike is before starting. After walking for four hours I realized that it was impossible to drag my 40-year-old butt up more steep slopes. I was completely spent. I conferenced with the other guys, feeling like a wuss, and explained that I would rather return than continue for another 4.5 miles to get to the pools, where the guys would all be skinny dipping. I know that they must think I'm lame, what I didn't realize was that my shorts were rubbing my legs raw as well. It took two hours to get back to car, by which time I was soooo glad that I hadn't added nine more miles on. Although I really wanted to see the pine trees and the lovely pool, etc.


View on the way back, resting.

Curtis's yard sale again, this time I bought $50 worth of cool things, including a red ceramic vase that I had really coveted last weekend. Afterwards went over to David's house and attempted to give his cat Clarita a haircut. I will never be a pet groomer, my skills are pretty wretched.


Shane and Jeffrey appear to be holding back an excited Curtis.


Gavin ponders a purchase.

As I type this Puff, Mama, Bear, and Princess all sit on the desk next to me, napping. Joey is off in her basket, I wish she wasn't such a misfit. I wonder if the vet can prescribe some kitty valium for her?

I had a dinner party tonight for Sam and Jeff, with Patrick, Gavin, and Jeffrey in attendance. We sat around and chatted and ate and talked some more. I think everyone had a nice time, it was good to meet Jeff in person. The brownies were the favorite course.




The dining room.


Jeff and Sam.

Allergy season has started again, and my nose runneth over. It doesn't help that I was a cleaning maniac when I got home, desparately attempting to get rid of the cat hair that inhabits many portions of the house courtesy of Mama Cat, Puff, Joey, Princess, and Bear. Never look under your stove, that is now my motto. On the other hand, the emaculate rooms are almost clean enough to perform surgery in. You could grind space telescope lenses in the living room. You can even invite Sam, Jeff, Gavin, and Jeffrey over for dinner and not be too embarrassed.


Mexican Bird of Paradise, front yard, September 2003.

Dreams do come true. So the last several years I have said that I wanted to see Pink Flamingos on my 40th. And yesterday as I did a little shopping I considered stopping by Casa Video and renting it, but decided that I would be hanging with Curtis instead. We went over to Chipotle and had strong margaritas (I am such a lightweight) and talked and talked, and then back to his house and people began to show up- Gavin, Kevin, Brian, Shane, Michele, Matt, and Jean Paul. Curtis put on Beyond the Valley of the Dolls on and we admired the crazy eye makeup and the lack of any recognizable actors. And then Curtis went and grabbed a couple other videos and there was Pink Flamingos! Ohmigod, I was elated. So we watched. And Gavin's Kevin, who I was meeting for the first time, was rather shocked. I mean, the movie is about the filthiest people in the world and they don't do anything redeeming, kinda like our current Republican administration. I have to admit though, that the penultimate scene- the doggy doodoo incident- had me retching.



The Cake.


So there, after all that build-up, I'm officially 40 and can now move onto more exciting topics like my favorite casserole recipes and which of my cats is the cutest.

Lazy day, worked a while, went and bought a couple of books and Sinead O'Connor's new album. Waiting at home for someone to come see the guesthouse. Tonight dinner with Curtis at Chipotle- he says there is nice scenery there.

Nothing earth-shattering, nothing extra special, and that is okay. I'm easing into my next decade kinda excited to see what I will make of it, who will be my new friends, what places I will go. The last ten years have been a time of change (bought a car, a house, another car), saw new places (in Europe twice, a number of states, Canada), and had my heart broken. Sigh. So I'm going to go forward and make my 40s the best damn decade yet.


Today in front of the brown rug piece.

Sheesh, Happy 40th to me.

Overheated. Today was hot, hot, hot. I was outside digging with Patti at the triplex and by early afternoon the sun was brutal. My blue hardhat was baking my skull. I drank tons of water, and so far seem to have escaped the horrible dehydration headache I was expecting. Came home and had some onion tart from last night. Pleasant. Cool.

The dinner party last night was nice. Gretchen made a Hungarian noodle dish (she made me a special one with tofu) and a cucumber something-or-other. Dena brought a chicken soup. Tom and Nick brought a bizarre meat wrapped pickle thingy and a mashed potato and broccoli caserole- the latter was good. Everyone liked the onion tart and the trifle went over well, despite its obvious flaws. I was a little nervous because Tom is a cook, but apparently I did well.

My kitchen is, unfortunately, a freakin' mess. After I go back to work and come back, I have an exciting evening of cleaning.

Happy birthday Ali.

Wicked tired. That's my first and last name at 11:28 Sunday morning. Last's night party was fun, fun, fun. To all of my friends who were there- Bob, Steve, Patrick, Mark, Matt, Robert, Dave, Abe, Dave, Jeffrey, the new cute Jeffrey, Chaz, Michael, Robbie, Jim, Matt, Curtis, Brian, Shane, Gary the mortician, Michele AKA Melissa, Tom, the other Sam, his cute boyfriend, Jim, Steve, Mark A., Terry, Mitch, Andrew, Pedro, Gordon, John, Ron, Floyd, Jay, Paul, April, and the others who I know I have missed, thanks for making me feel special in some way. And I looked hot in my Boy Scout shirt.

The food came out great, there were cute guys to smile at, nice things to talk about, just about the right number of cards and presents, an unexpected phone number, interesting stories on the front porch, and so on. And so I'm wicked tired after getting little sleep and now I'm heading back to clean up David's place, then to the store to buy some poundcake for trifle, and I'm baking an onion tart for tonight's Eat like your Ancestors' meal at Gretchen's. I'll have a full review of that tomorrow. Yawn. I am wicked tired.


Homer and David, the birthday boys.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. Actually, more like have pinkeye (again!) which involves a slightly swollen right lower eye lid. I did pinkeye research and wonder if it is allergy related, possibly because of the dust from the triplex.

Got up this morning and went over to Curtis's house to help out at his awesome yard sale. I picked up a few items- a huge orange baby bird mouth vase, a blue stopper bottle, a starburst clock, a 1950s barbeque tray, and a purple glass and gold metal lamp. This was the yard sale to beat all yard sales. And all of the cool people in town came, among them a number of cute straight guys. At 11:00 I ran over and had lunch with Jay, Karen, Sonya, and David. It was nice to relax. Shirl showed up later and we chatted about her sick dog. Karen agreed to watch Princess and Bear when I am in DC in October. Then back to the yard sale. Packing up was a chore, luckily Matt was there. And now it is an hour before I go over to David's to start the party setup. I am going to be so f'in tired. I hope a cute redhead or two shows up tonight.

Today was a good day. Patti and I dug a trench at the triplex where a new foundation is to go. We had a pleasant time, mostly in the shade. Found some nice old buttons, coins, prehistoric pottery, and a broken Japanese saucer. Afterward I went to a vintage clothing store and bought an old Boy Scout shirt to wear tomorrow. Actually, I don't like Boy Scouts and think the organization is run by a bunch of (un)funda(mental)ists. It is fitting that a queer guy wears their shirt at his birthday party. Then went on to Albertson's to buy groceries for the party and for a dinner party on Sunday. Mostly bought luxury items. Yikes, the bill came out to $115.


Yellow flowers, Patagonia, Summer 2003.

"Something bad is happening," I said to him. The morning was so typical. I got up, went outside to get the paper, put his coffee on. The computer had been turned on and I sat down with a bowl of cereal and when AOL came up I glanced at the opening screen. "Two planes hit World Trade Center." What? I step into the living room and turn the tv on. Up comes NBC or ABC, and the world becomes a nightmare. The buildings burn and then a newsflash, the Pentagon has been hit. I get up to tell him. "Something bad is happening."

He was always groggy in the morning, and I never woke him if I could avoid it. He had to have known it was serious. He followed me to the television and we watched. Watched. He had been in New York City the previous week at the US Open. I have pictures of me standing at the top of the north tower. It seemed impossible that this could be happening. And suddenly the tower fell. "How can anyone be so evil!" I screamed. "There must be thousands of people in there!" I wept. He called New York, to check on his friends. Somehow the phone works, they are safe, the one woman had left a job there the week before. As he smoked outside the second tower fell. I cried out. It was unbelievable.

I was staying home that day, looking at artifacts, taking people on a site tour. The television stayed on. PBS was carrying the BBC and the BBC showed things the other channels avoided. After watching a pair of people falling, I turned the television off.

Late in the afternoon I reached Les. His boyfriend once worked at Windows on the Worlds in the wine department and some of his coworkers died that day. My friend Pat's sister-in-law was in the section of the Pentagon that was hit, but escaped unharmed. I was depressed for weeks and the horrible "Hurry, hurry" dreams dogged me for months.

Two years later I still have that dream occasionally. I hate that George Bush has used the event for political gain. I hate that we brought September 11th to thousands of innocent Iraqi civilians in this uncalled-for war. I wish I could go back in time and save all of those people.

Happy 24th bday Sam. My birthdays have often sucked. Like Molly Ringwald, no one remembered my 16th. My 30th was another poor show. My 27th was, however, a fabulous time, spent with four friends at a park with gigantic boulders outside of Laramie, Wyoming enjoying some mind altering refreshments. I am on my last six days of being in my thirties. How did I end up here?

Last night had most excellent food and company. I went over to Bob and Steve's old adobe and sat on the back porch and hung out with Steve, who is having some back problems. Their new Pomeranian dog, Peaches, is like a living stuffed doll, but not in the Chucky way. She is so f'in cute. I want to borrow her. We had Dragon Garden Chinese- the garlic eggplant is lingering on my breath as I type. And chatted and gossiped and had an all-around nice. Good guys. And as Sam would say (he needs to do the Fox thing and trademark the phrase) "Good times."


Princess and Joey, who usually don't get along, can you tell?

What if North Korea's leader, Kim Jong Il, kept a weblog? Very amusing.

Rollercoaster. Sometimes people tell you things you really don't want to know. The phone rings and a voice says, Meet me at the Congress in 10 minutes for dinner." I'm not sure exactly who it is, but maybe it is that cute redhead. When I get there I discover that it is John visiting from Phoenix. He looks good. Since he moved up there I don't see him enough. We were really good friends for several years, talking on the phone, going to the gym, I lived vicariously through him as he went off to do the circuit scene. Tonight we catch up, doing condensed versions of our lives. We don't talk enough on the phone.

He tells me a story, asking me if I want to hear it first. I say I don't care but afterwards I wish I hadn't. I was pretty naive and Tucson is a small town. A little detail- the picture over the fireplace, becomes important and leads to a story. It is a novel of deception, trust when I shouldn't have trusted. I go from being happy to unhappy. And I think why? Why?


Tonight, from my front porch.

Random thoughts. David came over and hung out, ate some of my burned pineapple upsidedown cake, and was pleased with my large linoleum pieces that I mounted and hung in my bedroom.


Red piece.

I admire Corky's photography and aspire to one day have a better digital camera to record the random events of life. Below are a couple of images from this week. I love Queen Donuts. The owners are a lovely couple who make the best donuts in town. Krappy Creme donuts, which everyone screams about, are nothing in comparison.


Queen Donuts.


Inside the triplex the old adobe walls are being repaired. There are three more months of work to go- sections of adobe replaced, doors and windows restored, lime plaster applied. I'll be digging up the interior below the floors to recover the artifacts and uncover the historic and prehistoric past of the area.


Shovel.


I'll be 40 in nine days. When my father was 40 he had five kids. I have five cats instead. Coincidence or fate?

I am happy. Sitting here with Miss Joey on my lap, looking up to signal that she wants more petting. Mama Cat comes and stands next to the chair until I pick her up and pet her too. The phone rings. It is Him, telling me the time of the birthday get together on Saturday. I decide that it won't depress me, that I will remain calm. I am less happy, because that is what happens when he calls. Someday I'll be done feeling sad about it.

I am pleased with my house. I have new curtains fashioned from an abstract blue sheet from Urban Outfitters. It already has a few pinholes from naughty cat claws. But it makes my study brighter and cheerier. Around me hang pieces of 1920s-1930s linoleum, with cracks and nailholes. The are from about the same time frame as when the house was built, 1928.

I sit on the front porch and chat on the phone with my friends, new and old, and I am not lonesome. Not too long, because the chives are blooming and the smell is noxious. My new plants are doing well, adapting to their pots. In the fall I'll buy a few annuals to add color to the area.

Someone asked me why I was blogging. It is difficult to explain. I like writing about something different, about ideas or a fevered rant on politics, or a dream or a scene that sticks in my mind. I carry the digital camera around, because you never know when something interesting might present itself. It makes me feel good, I guess, and that is reason enough.


Home

Hung out at the Denture with Reggie, Sam, Tom, Todd, Hans, Chris, et al. last night. I was driving, everyone else was drinnnnkiiiinnnnggg. Sam's word for the night "binogomous." He was being an imp. I had a good time, it was nice just to stand around chatting. Matt was Djing- 1970s disco classics. Nice.

Chinese poppies, Spring 2003, front yard.

Oye. A bizarre dream wakes me up. My sister Susan and I are Russian skaters at the 1991 Olympics. We are both really bad, Susan's legs are made from French bread, which probably explains why she can't make any jumps. She gets angry and smashes into the boards with her skates after her unsuccessful routine. I realize we can sell her story to the press and get a lot of money. We have to flee from our handlers, and as I puzzle how to do this- while I am doing my routine- I wake up. The French bread legs- now that was the real strange part. Where did that come from?

Last night I dreamed about Greg from Ann Arbor, who I haven't seen for ten years. In that dream he was sitting on my front steps during a snow storm. I climbed out of bed and did an internet search and found his email address and sent him a hello note. I was pleased to find a response- he's doing well and is a doctor at a major teaching hospital. He was the first visible gay man I knew of at the U of Michigan, and damn he was good looking. I was a scared kid, but knowing that there was the heroic, handsome gay man willing to speak out on gay issues made coming out of the closet a little easier.

I can't stand to see King George II's picture or to hear his nasal, mangled English. Every word that he spouts from his prissy mouth is contorted into malformed sentences that are invariably lies. People who believe what he says, e.g.:

-there ARE weapons of mass destruction in Iraq
-Saddam Hussein was involved with Al Quaeda
-tax cuts for the rich will revive the economy
-clear cutting old growth forests will prevent forest fires
-cutting air pollution standards will somehow encourage pollution reduction

are either complete idiots, greedy bastards, or simply not interested in the fate of our country or the world. Some people claim that he brought our country together after 9/11. I'm sorry, but any politician could have done what he did- look sad at the appropriate moments, pat widows and orphans on their back, shake a fist at the terrorists. Every time I call John McCain's office to spout my so-called liberal opinions (such as, "Let's balance the budget"), I tell his staff to beg him to run against that pile of diseased shit that is so disgusting that even vultures and dung beetles avoid him. Oh, did I really say that? Yeah, more than once.

I'm going to be on Arizona Illustrated tomorrow- they interviewed me about the Triplex house I have been working on. I've been on the news enough that it isn't a big deal. While I was at the house I got some more old linoleum to make artwork with. I spent tonight painting some canvases and cutting and tacking. The pieces look funky- one of them I'll be giving to Robert when he moves to Dallas.


I wanna go to Turkey.

Am I the only person in the world that hated Finding Nemo. I wasted $8.50 to see this wretched movie. Yes, the animation was lovely and there were a few cute moments- mainly the scenes involving humans or seagulls. But geez, the rest of the movie was so smarmy, treacle-like, preachy. And the annoying voices of Nemo (whine) and his father (adult whine) and the of-so-moral lessons of letting go. And all around me the audience was loving it. Am I so out of touch with mainstream entertainment?


I must now stare at this orange "mistake" picture to calm my mind. They showed a Pixar short from 1989 before the main movie which was 10 times more fun, if one can ever really quantify fun.

Happy Labor Day I've worked as:

A farmboy- my parents bought a farm when I was nine and the next nine years were pretty hellish as my father started farming right when every small farm began to go broke.

At a bus garage for the summer- nothing exciting here, except I discovered my fear of heights.

At a University library opening all of the books and magazines- a fun job, I love libraries and I love to read.

As an answer person at a student union desk- pre-internet, we could answer any question posed.

Was in charge of the magazine collection at a business library (worst f'in job, well almost as bad as farming). Me and 17 women, and f'in business school students, lousy f'ers. I don't know why I feel compelled to not say fuck- I guess f'in just seems more vulgar nowadays.

And as an archaeologist. I'm pretty lucky in that I've had a great career and have been able to work at interesting sites, find interesting things, and meet interesting people.

Enough work stuff- I spent the weekend doing a few necessary chores (cleaned house, washed clothes, yardwork) and a whole lot of lazy stuff- lounging at pools, reading Al Franken's new book- Lies (and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them). No big surprises in that book- basically all of the bigwig Republicans are so full of crap that if I had a penny for every time they lied, I'd be f'in rich and wouldn't have to work. But then I guess I wouldn't be celebrating labor day, would I?