Homer'sWorld

I walked down to the dump to look for more Fiesta ware mosaic material. It is starting to get sunny here, so I put on my cowboy hat and mosied.


Cowboy Homer.

On the way back I stopped at the horse corral, which is less than 500 ft from my house. There are about 15 to 20 horses there, along with a handful of chickens. I'd seen a foal there a while ago, and today I realized there were two more. The older one was racing around its pen, jumping wildly about.


Jumping.

The younger one must only be a couple of weeks old.

Spot and Mama Spot.

I clambered through the gate and when up to the paddock. The little stallion looked at me curiously and finally stuck his nose out at me, sniffing my finger.


Nibbles.

Spot wanted to chew on my fingers with his teeth, which were just coming in. I scratched his head instead, since I'd like to have those fingers for more important things, like typing blog entries.

After a half hour of excitement, little Spot decided to lie down for a rest and I wandered back home.

Sit, Spot, sit!

It is quiet at my house and I'm feeling just a bit lonely. Even Spot couldn't fix that.

So last night I watched the telly with Joey, not a clue that I would get an exciting phone call.


Joey multi-tasking: watching the telly and bathing.

Around 9:30 my cell phone rang and it was Patch. Turns out he was in Tucson. I was taking the day off anyway, so ran home and furiously cleaned my house. Patch and his adorable boyfriend Greg (who I kept calling Alex) showed up around 3:00, then ran off to the Sonoran Desert Museum. They got back at 5:45 and we went on a little driving tour of Tucson. Did you know Tucson has a military plane graveyard?


Airplane boneyard.

Afterwards to La Indita for dinner. We ate chips and chatted, it was a nice time.


Patch.


Greg.

I can't believe I ate so much. As I type this my stomach feels like it is going to explode. "It's just wafer thin!"


Aftermath.

And in a week I'll be seeing Patch and Alex again in New York City. I am pretty thankful for the friends I've met through blogging.

Bend over, he said a moment before he entered me. I complied as he lubed up. Yes, time for my annual physical. Doctor Fred declared my nether parts were healthy, announced that my privates were the most lovely he had ever seen, and I was on my way.

Looks like the job situation is improving, so I guess I'll put the "Will Do Anything, Anything, for Food" signs away (although maybe I should bring them to New York City next week just in case). I'm attending the annual Jello Wrestling event this Sunday and will not be accidently bidding on a hideous cottonwood tree like last year, no sirree, I'll be giving a few dollars to the wrestlers but that's it.

I hadn't shaved for a whole week and had turned into Super Scruffy Man. That was somewhat problematic because it just itched like crazy all over my neck. I was told I make good facial hair though.

Okay, enough stream-of-unconsiousness babbling.

Gratuitous hottie.

Meet Qubad Jalal Talabany, son of the new president of Iraq, visiting Tucson as part of our "sister" cities program.

Qubad

Qubad, you and I really need to have talks on sensitive matters. I'm sure that a few hours of intense negotiations could prove fruitful, perhaps a little power-sharing is in order? Call me.

Work is so slow that I might be laid off for a while. That sucks. So I'll focus on other things. When Jimbo was here in March it was wildflower season. Now the various sorts of cacti have started to bloom.


Cholla.


Prickly pear.


Ocotillo (not a cactus, actually).

I was out last weekend and collected more bits of broken dishes from the 1950s dump for the mosaic table I'm planning to make. I'm getting a nice pile on my back porch, a few more collecting excursions and then I need to start figuring out what sort of design to make.


Mosaic raw material.

Mama Cat demands attention, so I'd better end this right now before she gets snippy with me. I think I'll have her review the Sugar Daddy applications I am now accepting.

I need a sugar daddy. I guess I'm too responsible- after paying the bills, the 401K, and insurance I have like nothing to live on. Of course this is car insurance month, so that explains it, partially. But really, I don't lead a particularly extravagant life and you'd think I'd get ahead someday. At least my credit card is paid off.

Think. Think. Think. Ways to make more money... Pole dancer? No, I look awful in fishnet stockings. Prostitute- ditto on the thigh-length gogo boots. Write the great American novel? I'm not too good at fiction. Live within my means? Well, I guess eating out of dumpsters can be lotsa fun.

I think I'll just behave and not charge anything on that credit card.

Things I like:

- Vanilla Diet Coke
- listening to Marc's radioblog
- palo verdes blooming

Palo verde
- gnocchi and tomato sauce
- lazy Sunday mornings
- being scruffy

Squinty
- upcoming trips to NYC, Vancouver, and Michigan

I order you to go listen to Archerr's podcast. He made me laugh this morning, even though my left index finger hurts likamuthafucka from where they pricked me for an HIV test (negative, thankyouverymuch).

Last night my neighbors decided to have a little party and they played some Prince song OVER-AND-OVER-AND-OVER again. What the hell? Who listens to Prince anymore? Who listens to Prince at 1:30 in the morning? Since my bedroom window is about 20 ft from where their boom box sat in their backyard, I had to go sleep in my living room. All of this was happening while my index finger hurt likamuthafucka! This morning I got up and stumbled around for quite a while, since no matter what time I go to bed I always wake up at 6:00 AM. I bet if I went to bed at 5:59 AM I would still wake up one minute later. I think I'm still a little groggy. So go listen to Archerr or else. Don't piss me off, okay? (I think I'm channeling Sam!).

I've been to Europe three times. First time was in 1996, Mike and I went to visit Yorgos and his boyfriend Filios. They lived in Athens and we took a trip that included Corinth,
Olympia, Mycenae, Tiryns, and some place that starts with a P but which I can't remember its name (Yorgos, what was that place?).


Mike at the National Museum in Athens.

Mike and I got on the ferry and went out to Santorini so I could see the Minoan-era ruins there. The town of Thera was buried by a volcano about 3,000 years ago. Back in 1972 my mom showed me a National Geographic article on the site and ever since then I wanted to be an archaeologist.

In 1998 I spent a month in Europe with the Ex. He was living in Amsterdam and we eventually got on a train and went to Berlin to visit my ex-boyfriend Philip. At the Pergamom museum I ran into another ex-boyfriend- small world moment.


Pergamom Museum, Berlin.

We then went to Poland and spent the night in a police academy hotel. In the morning we discovered people in northwest Poland drink vodka for breakfast. I got to see the little village my last emigrant ancestors came from in 1862. It was tiny, but had a disco. Took the train to Prague (beautiful!) and then to southern Germany to Augsberg to meet my 4th cousins.

Homer, Claus, and Thomas.

I slept in Claus's sister's room. The walls were covered with pictures of the singing group Hansen. When I was back in Amsterdam the next week I walked past the oldest brother in the drug district.

I was in England this January (see January 2005 archives for posts). Future trips I'd like to take: Back to Greece to hang out with Yorgos, I'd like to go see the Roman site of Aphrodias in Turkey, also Pompeii and Herculaneum in Italy. I wouldn't mind a trip to Africa to see the wild animals. Maybe the Carribbean to lie on a beach and absorb skin-cancer causing rays. It'll be a while before the next major trip, I've got to pay down my home equity loan just a bit.

Where do you want to go?

Mama Cat wants attention. She is doing everything she can to distract me. At this very moment she is sitting between me and the keyboard. If I pause and pat her she bursts out purring. I wonder what she thinks about me. Does she know how much she and Puff and Joey mean to me?

I remember falling in love. It is a strange thing, this desire for the perfect friend, the someone you want to spend your life with. Falling in love changes you. In my case, it was for the better. I had always been afraid it would never happen, I think that is partially the result of the social conditioning you get (gays are evil, etc). Partly is was insecurity. And then, thankfully, it happened and I was so happy that he loved me back. It ended, his decision, unexpectedly. I didn't know it would end, was not prepared. Oh, that was a bad time.

I'm really wishing it will happen again, although I wonder if I will be more cautious. I'm guessing no, I won't be able to be that way. Let's hope I get to find out soon.

The big reveal.


That's me in the blue and white striped shirt. I wish I could remember the name of the crazy girl next to me.

Yessir. A new pope. Bend-over-n-dick-us XVIMcDILLI or whatever number.


I am enthralled by the white smoke.

Honestly, the idea that 115 prissy old geezers in red dresses have as much power as they do is pretty appalling, especially since they aren't elected and their taste in altar boys is fairly well known. I just find myself wondering, "Ummm, so Lindsay Lohan dyed her hair platinum blond, really?!"

Dinner with Sandy last night. He is moving to Australia soon. Jeffrey T. is moving to Boston soon. A couple of other friends are checking out a move to Spain. I'm happy for them, but at the same time I'm feeling selfish. I wonder if I'll be left sitting at home lonely. If there was a hell I'd imagine it as a lonely place with no one to talk to. Of course it could be worse, you could be sitting there with 264 dead popes bickering about which one had the nicer gowns.

So I've been a little down and one way to pick myself up is to pull out the box of pictures and find some happy memories...


Homer and Dorothy at the fair, 1977.

Dorothy kicked the judge and got a second place ribbon, even though she was the only heifer in her category.


Uli, Homer, and Matt.

We spent the night at a hot springs at Yellowstone. Melanie took the picture, I skinny dipped with Uli, god was he cute. My hair had turned blond from being out in the sun so long at such a high altitude.


Homer pulls the boat.

This is also back in 1987, I was doing an archaeology dig on the floor of Jackson Lake after it was drained to repair the dam. Every day I would drag the boat to shore (we couldn't use the motor because it would get stuck in the mud). Melanie has that sweater still- my mother used to wear it out to the barn to milk cows.


Oslynn and Homer.

We share the same birthday (September 16) and back in 1990 we shared an apartment. She met her husband downstairs- I had a crush on the guy who gave me those flowers, but he ended up being a jerk. I still like the flowers though.



Homer, Mike, and Yorgos at Olympia.

The drive through the mountains made me carsick. Olympia was beautiful, so green and lots of ruins. Yorgos could read the ancient inscriptions. At the restaurant in the mountain village nearby I had a really good meal of string beans in a tomato sauce and fresh bread.


I think this is about 1972 or 1973.

Can you find me?

It is awful quiet at my house. The ceiling fan, the whirr of my computer, the neighbors' dogs barking, traffic. I can hear those, but it is still awful quiet. I wish the phone would ring. Maybe if I turn the telly on the noise will drive away some of the quiet. Maybe I should get in my car and go somewhere, but christ gas is expensive and I'm being good and not spending money and the idea of wandering around alone is the opposite of what I want.

Some bloggers are posting pictures of spring flowers- tulips, hyacinths, daffodils. I miss the spring, kicking the last piles of snow so that they would melt faster. The unexpected (sometimes unpleasant) things suddenly exposed. Pussy willows (I loved how Kathleen Turner made them so dirty in Serial Mom). It has been a long time since I've experienced the rebirth that spring brings. I could use some of that right about now.

Wasted day. Today is one of those days you wish you could just erase. Ever have one? I'd rather just forget it, but probably it will stick in my mind instead. I seem like a broken record sometimes. It would be nice if things could just go my way once in a while.

Today's Telly Highlights:

Queer Guys for the Queer Guy, 2-3 PM Saturday. The Queer Guys help fashion-victim Homer select vintage couture for his upcoming Grande Tour of New York City (adult situations, partial nudity, vulgar language).


Homer and Dougie find sleek, sophisticated outfits.


Hidden cameras in unexpected moments.


Kevin says, "Old is the new new."


Doug says, "You can never have enough hats."

Gay Friends, 3:00-3:30 PM, Saturday. The one where Homer, Doug, and Kevin hang out at the Rainbow Planet. (adult language, good food)


Rainbow planet, Kevin outside.

Sometimes when I'm lying in bed weird things pop into my head. Okay, get your mind outta the gutter. Last night, in an attempt to make myself fall asleep, I tried to remember how many different mammals I have seen in the wild. After reviewing the National Wildlife Federation's list, here's the ones I have seen.

Virginia opossum

shrew (not sure which species)
Eastern mole

nine-banded armadillo

antelope jackrabbit
black-tailed jackrabbit
desert cottontail
Eastern cottontail

bat (unknown varieties)

coyote
red fox
kit fox
black bear
common raccoon
northern river otter
long-tailed weasel
American mink
American badger
striped skunk
mountain lion
bobcat

squirrel (not sure which species)
ground squirrel
Harris’ antelope squirrel
thirteen-striped squirrel
eastern chipmunk
woodchuck
Botta’s pocket gopher
American beaver
Desert kangeroo rat
house mouse
deer mouse
Norway rat
Common porcupine

Harbor seal

whale (unknown variety)
dolphin (unknown variety)

wild horse

javelina
mountain goat
mountain sheep
pronghorn antelope
moose
elk
white-tailed deer
mule deer
American bison

My most recent sighting was the rare Arizona sinkcat (not to be confused with the stinkcat), seen below in it's native habitat engaged in typical behavior:


Cattus lickei.

Maybe it is time for me to go to Africa and see some wild animals.

Johnny is posting about his Rock-n-Roll Jeopardy experience. I tried out for Jeopardy here in Tucson. They were scouting for players here and so I dropped a postcard off at the CBS affiliate. A couple of days later I got a call and instructions to go to a local hotel for the test. I went and there was a crowd of 300 people. They gave up a 10 question fill-in-the-blank test and collected them in five minutes. They left the room, scored the tests and came back in. "If we call your name please meet us outside." Of the 300 or so people, maybe 15 got called. Including me (I was surprised, I knew that I had gotten one answer wrong). "Come back for the second test at 1:00" they told us.

So I go back and run into my friend Richard, who is a reference librarian, and who had passed the test in a separate session. There were about 60 of us in all and we went back into the room to take the next test. This one consisted of a video of Alex Trebek asking questions, Jeopardy style. We had to fill in blanks on our test sheet. Richard and I started scribbling, but I knew I was doomed right away. Too many Shakespeare and opera questions. Also obscure river names. Beside me, Richard starts giggling, which made me start laughing too. I knew that he was having a tough time as well. After they graded those tests only three people were called back, one of whom would eventually appear on the show (the other two were wayyyyy unphotogenic).

Outside I mentioned that the test was super hard. Richard laughed again and said, "Yeah I know, I didn't know the answers so I started cheating off of you! You didn't know any of them either!"

I think I'll go out and be in the audience for Price Is Right- they always pick people with weird names "Homer, come on down!" Knowing my luck I'd win a hottub or a camping trailer.

Last night. Amazing Race. Dougie, Abe, David, and Kevin. Double chocolate brownies. A good time. I'm so glad for good times.


Kevin.

Allergies suck. I had to leave work Friday because I couldn't stop sneezing. The stuff I took made me spacey and I ended up just lying in bed stoned. Unpleasant.


Blurry oleander.

Too much pollen. All the plants are fuckin. The wind is sure blowing too. I'll be glad when it settles down so my nose can clear up and my eyes unpuff.


Sunbeam scruffiness.

I generally keep people on my blog list, I only drop when they end their blogs. Recently I dumped someone off because they didn't have anything interesting to say. I checked up on his blog today and discovered that the guy's boyfriend has surely the nastiest blog of any gay guy I have come across. Not nasty, as in naughty. Nasty, as in "I'm letting everyone see that I am a racist, misogynist piece of crap who thinks hurting people (physically and emotionally) is funny." I called Archerr on the way home from work and had him take a look. He agreed with me. I can't quite figure out why some guy could get his jollies being so wicked to strangers, friends, teammates. Makes me wish I believed in karma.

Jimbo and I were discussing scruffy men today. Apparently out on the east coast the guys are all growing scruffy beards. Here in Arizona we are a little behind the times, the college guys are still trimming everything off. Their arms and legs are smooth. You walk across campus and think, "Gee, I should have invested in hair clipper stocks." I'll be glad when that silliness gets over.

So what does Homer think is attractive in a guy? A nice smile, pretty eyes, scruffiness, a furry chest, charm. Oh, and you have to like cats a lot. I think that describes someone I know pretty well.

Fashion dilemma. So I'm going to New York City in May and I have nothing to wear!!! I was discussing this with Dougie. I've posted pictures of myself wearing all of my fun clothes and I need to show up with something new. I checked out the stuff at Old Navy today and there was nothing that looked the least bit fun. So Dougie and I are going to go vintage clothes shopping for that perfect red carpet look. Of course I'm not sure why I'm bothering since Mark is going to be the best-dressed.

Okay, so it has been a whole month since I paid off my credit card bill. I haven't charged a penny since. Of course some consumer goods have been calling my name recently. You'll be amazed when I admit what I want the most- a sewing machine. I need new curtains and the already completed ones they sell are just not right. I've sewed curtains before, borrowing a machine, and now I wouldn't mind having my own. I've even thought about taking a class to learn how to sew clothes- I'd like to know how to make shirts and boxer shorts. What else would I like? A DVD player, an old table to cover with a mosaic I'm gonna make, new sheets for my king size bed, someone to share the bed with, and so on. I've got a lead on one of these...

I like chicks. Little fuzzy ones. Even though I hated being a farmboy I really liked chickens. They were cute, they laid eggs, they hatched out little chicks. They go "cluck-cluck-cluck" and cackle when an egg appears magically in their nest.

When I was on the farm we would order chicks by mail. I'd pour through the catalogue looking at the various breeds. My favorite were Araucanas- they lay colored egss- pink, light blue, and green. Also the tiny Bantams were cute. I had a pet chicken- Took-took- that liked to sit on my lap.

My mother had this big brown hen that would get outside the coop. One day my parents were driving to town and a cop pulled them over. The policeman had spotted the brown hen riding on the truck axle, apparently asleep. My father had to crawl under and grab it. Apparently the cop told his fellow officers and the following week another cop pulled my father over. "Sir, you have a chicken on your axle again." My father fixed the hole in the coop after that.

So anyways, some day I'm going to tear down the shed in my back yard and build a chicken coop with a well fenced run and order me some mail order chicks. I wonder if farmers are considered a good catch?

"Don't drool on me," I said to Kajia. I was driving her to the eye vet and she wanted to see where we were going. Her human, Patti, is out of town so I offered to be dog taxi. Kajia sat in the backseat and looked out the window.


Homer and Kajia.

I'm having computer problems and keep losing posts. After numerous attempts, I'm giving up for the night.

Note to self: The zipper on my new jeans upzips by itself. I shouldn't go commando when wearing them, especially at the super market.

Every wedding I have attended seems special. Here’s why:

1). Uncle F. and Aunt J.:I was six. I had to be told not to eat the rice. I ate jello with fruit cocktail at the reception.

2). J. and the sex maniac: The let the sex maniac’s mother out of the insane asylum to attend. My brother was an usher and wore a tuxedo for the first and only time. No one explained to him you could loosen the cumberbund. The bridesmaid he escorted to the altar was pregnant and promptly fainted in the sweltering July heat. My brother began to sway back and forth, his face turning scarlet. I heard my father mutter “Jesus Christ!” moments before my brother threw his arms in the air, groaned, and rolled backward over the piano into the potted plants. My father then said, “God dammit!” as the church ladies rushed up and dragged him away. I didn’t want to shake the insane woman’s hand. She had a full beard.

3). Sister E. and J.: She didn’t want me or my brother in the wedding pictures. I wore a brown cordoroy suit and thought I was well dressed.

4). M. and what’s-her-name: his 90-year-old man was the best man. That was pretty cool.

5). O. and J.: I cried buckets and buckets. I caught the garter. They made me put it on the girl who caught the bouquet. She didn’t want me to touch her, afraid it would bother her boyfriend. I said, “It’s okay, I’m gay.” She cried out loudly, “You’re GAY?!” and really didn’t want me to touch her then. They wanted me to repeat the garter placement while wearing a blindfold. When I did so I discovered they had switched her out and replaced her with her boyfriend. Everyone laughed as I slid that thing as far up his super furry legs as I could. Afterwards my boyfriend and I went up to our hotel room and had a hyge screaming fight.

6). M. and J.: I was asked to take the flowers and extra wine up to their suite after the reception so they could take them back to Arizona. While I was at IKEA in San Diego, J.’s white trash relatives got into the room and stole the flowers and drank all the wine.

7). M. and M.: At the wedding I told M.’s born-again mother that M.’s dress was beautiful. Mrs. C. then told me, “It should be, God picked it out.” God also picked the caterer out. Mrs. C., however, ironed my shirt. She used to call me "the pervert" but decided I was actually a nice person, although doomed to hellfire.

8). S. and D.: I introduced the Ex’s sister to my next-door neighbor at a “Let’s get S. laid party”. It worked. They got married, I was the best man. I bought their cake for them. It was a beautiful sheet cake, lots of purple irises, but one of her co-workers had made her a traditional pedestal cake. Mine tasted better. The co-worker glared at me the entire time.

9). R. and L.: I also bought the cake. The frosting tasted weird, but it was very pretty. It apparently had fertility-inducing qualities. Little R. is very cute.

Inspired by Ryan. What’s your best wedding story?

A few hours at the patio at karaoke. Reggie, Sandy, and I chatted and watched. I told one guy that he was a black woman trapped in a white man's body. He did an awesome version of the Jefferson's theme song.


Sandy.


Reggie.

I felt sympathy for the bouncer, who has to endure the warbling (good and bad) of the people doing karaoke.

Tom, the bouncer.

Afterwards pizza at Magpies and then to Sandy's house, where little Roger entertained me with his bouncing energy.

Roger.

A good, lazy day, a nice weekend. Some nice times ahead,

Many things happened at Richard's birthday party. Richard looked dashing. He gave me a penis-shaped sucker which I managed to misplace, how typical. I instructed people not to look at the camera lens but they usually did so anyways. Reggie glanced at a guy. Jim, Chris, and I agreed that kumquats fresh from the tree were delicious. I drank too much champagne, but not so much as another guest. I told an extremely naughty story to an appreciative audience. A team of muskox-like boys stood on the front porch in a circle, preventing their fellow wolf-like party-goers from getting close. The guys eitehr loved my vintage western shirt or told me how much they hated it. I should have taken more pictures, here are some that turned out:


Richard and his Pretty, Pretty Princess game.


Reuben can't look like a badguy no matter how hard he tries.


Homer and Jamie, seated near the muskox guys.


Every birthday boy deserves admirers.


The 3Rs gang- Reggie, Richard, and Roger.


Chris: cute boy alert, code red.


Waiting for the party to be over.