Homer'sWorld

Happy Halloween!



Thanks Brian for the photoshopped picture! GRAINS....G-R-A-I-N-S! (that's what a vegetarian zombie says)

Eight hours in pictures.

Butterfly at Patrick G.'s house.


Sunlit flower.


Smiling.


Katrin and Thomas carve pumpkins for the first time.


Katrin's pumpkin.


Thomas' pumpkin.


Katrin as Roman goddess.


Hillbilly Thomas and the showgirls.


Michael and Zombie Homer.


Sexy vampire Alex.


Spaceship flight attendants.


Ug and Cossack (aka Brady and Patrick G.).


Hola! Mexican wrestlers Abe and David G.


Elder Gin Bottle comforts the recently deceased.

Busy as a butterfly- I had a lovely time hosting Thomas and Katrin. We had Mexican and Ethiopian food, visited museums and an archaeology dig, had mesquite flour pancakes, and entertained my cats. They are now off to Phoenix to catch an airplane to Florida. I'm thinking about a little nap.

Ray's Halloween party was, once again, the social event of the year. I behaved myself this time around, who wants to make out with a zombie? I'm taking applications.

Thomas and Katrin have arrived. We went out to Mexican food last night, which they really liked.


Katrin and Thomas.

Thomas and I are fourth cousins once removed. Our common ancestor is my great-great-great-great grandfather (he's one generation off). They live near Munich and are a lovely couple.

This morning I took them out to see an archaeology dig. Then off to the Mission of San Xavier, which was completed in 1797.


Cherub.

It is always amazing to see that church. It was built when there was nothing really here in Tucson. The interior is covered with paintings, statues, and elaborately carved reliefs. If you ever come to Tucson, that is on Homer's tour.

Thomas and Katrin have gone off to Saguaro National Park. I'm staying home with a headache instead. I think we may carve some pumpkins tonight- something they have never done.

Harriet Miers must have listened to Archerr's interview with me. Now if only Bush would get on the "internets" and pay attention!

HomerStation Telly Schedule:

5:30-5:45 AM- Stop, Puff, Stop! [Children's show about The Cat with the Curious Claws]
5:45-6:00 AM- Breakfast Break [cooking show, today's lesson "Cheerios"]
6:00-6:15 AM- New York Times/Washington Post headlines [Political drama- Which leading Republicans are indicted today?]
6:15-7:00 AM- Internet Nonsense [warning, adult themes and content]
7:00 AM-3:30 PM- Archaeological Extravaganza! [Educational- Homer finds bits of broken glass, half a horseshoe, and other ancient garbage. Special guest star via cell phone, Jimbo]
3:30-4:00 PM- Timesheet Hell [basic math- "How to make numbers add up to 80"]
4:00-4:30 PM- Archerr Calls [telephone interview, available online Thursday]
4:30-5:30 PM- Bathroom Makeover [Today's makeover- scrubbing the bathroom to impress your German cousins!]
5:30-6:00 PM- Headache! [medical drama- Homer didn't drink enough water during the Extravaganza]
6:00-6:30 PM- What's In The Fridge [cooking show, Homer makes a mediocre meal from frozen ingredients]
6:30-7:00 PM- Computer Cleanup [How To "Removing embarrassing files from your hard drive"]
7:00-8:00 PM- Is it Lost Yet? [documentary, "What to do with this wasted hour"]
8:00-10:00 PM- Watching Lost/Invasion
10:00-11:59 PM- Infomercial- "Snoremaster 2005"

When I attended graduate school (1988-1992) at Arizona State University I didn't have a car, I rode my one-speed bike everywhere. My social life sucked- there were no gay bars close by, no internet, the only way to meet other gay people was through the GBLT student group. My second year there I ended up being the co-chair of the group.

The ASU police started to arrest men having sex in bathrooms. One day I went into the anthropology department restroom to pee and there was a man washing his hands, staring at my cock as I tried to piss. I got totally weirded out and left. An hour later I returned and he was still there, still washing his hands. I waited until I got home to pee. The next day the student paper announced that two men had been arrested in that same bathroom. What a set up- the police officer's word against yours.

The student newspaper had a policy of printing the names of felony suspects. Getting arrested for bathroom sex was considered a misdemeanor. However, the newspaper published the names, majors, and addresses of those being arrested. At the same time an athlete or frat guy was accused of rape (which is, after all, a felony) and the paper declined to print his name to "protect him." I called up my GLBT co-chair, Janice, and we went to visit the newspaper editor. I read him the paper's policy and asked why the men being arrested for misdemeanor bathroom sex were being exposed while felony rape suspects protected. I casually mentioned we were getting ready to file a lawsuit, which was bullshit since I couldn't afford a lawyer. It worked. The next day the editor called me to apologize and ask me to write a cover story for the weekend magazine on gay life at Arizona State. It was the first positive article ever published in that paper about homos.

At about the same time it was the annual Student Group Fair on campus. I was one of two people willing to man the Fag Group table and so I sat there (next to the woofy ASU Rugby Team) and handed out literature. When my replacement arrived I wandered about. I stopped at the Anti-Abortion group table and looked at their pamphlet. A perky brunette girl asked me my opinion on abortion. I told her that it should be up to each woman to make a choice.

"You support killing babies!?" she cried out. "Well, I really don't think it is my business to tell other women what they can do with their own bodies. So, if you were raped you would want to have the baby?" "Of course!" she replied. She paused and then said, "I suppose you would support aborting babies if they had a test to see if they were homosexual!"

Oh. My. She was throwing out her supposed liberal attitudes to me. Except ASU in the late 1980s-early 1990s wasn't liberal. I had already sat through a student Senate meeting and had been called a sodomizer in front of everybody by the vice president. I had been called Fag more than once because I rode a nerdy Peewee Herman-like bike. Everyone was so closeted and afraid.

I looked at the perky brunette and smiled. "You know, I find your saying that really offensive. I'm a gay man and I don't believe you have ever met a homosexual in person, have you?" Her mouth dropped open and she stepped backward. Here she was spouting her crap and suddenly a real-live faggot was standing in front of her. She turned to the other person manning her booth and blurted out, "He's a homosexual!" That person looked equally horrified. I looked at them and laughed. I think I freaked them out, a real-live homosexual.

Times have changed Since then the greater Phoenix area has become homo-central. Tempe had a gay mayor, there is a gay city council man for Phoenix. They even shoot porn movies there. The internet has made life so much easier for gay people. I sometimes wonder if younger gay people understand how much life has changed in the last 20 years.

I'm scruffy again.

I wish I had a sordid story to tell, but this weekend was tame, unless you count shopping for towels and buying a Dusty Springfield cd as naughty. The Summer of Being Tan is over and I am returning to my usual pale self. Except I'll have a farmer's tan these next few months since I'll be out running archaeology projects until at least February. This morning I do what I always do the first day of a field project, wake up hours early. I put away the laundry, balanced my checkbook, cleaned the kitty litter box. Still have 50 minutes before I have to go. The next few days is all about cleaning the house before my German cousins arrive.

Coming out of my closet. I went clothes shopping today- I had the urge to purchase a couple of shirts. I like shirts almost as much as I like chairs, don't ask me why. When I got home I decided to go through my closet and get rid of things I didn't like, were worn out, or didn't fit anymore (sadly, my waist size is now 33 instead of 32).

I decided to count pieces of clothing. Once in college Les and I counted our roommate Chris's clothes- he had 80 pairs of pants. Our friends all demanded to see Chris's over-stuffed closets when they came to visit.

Now I've turned into Chris! I was pretty horrified by how many clothes I had. Okay, a partial explanation is that I have two sets of clothes- my regular ones and the ones that I wear when I'm outside doing archaeology. The regular ones, as they wear out, mostly become dig clothes until they get too tattered.

In contrast, I remember as a teenager having four or five school shirts and three pairs of pants, we were that poor. I'm thankful that I can splurge on a new shirt (or four!) nowadays.

After winnowing out items, my closet and dresser now contain-

1 trenchcoat
1 coat
4 suit jackets
15 ties (all vintage)
1 bolo tie made by my step-grandfather
1 turtleneck
30 long-sleeved shirts
23 short-sleeved shirts
8 white t-shirts
15 colored t-shirts
7 store-bought sweaters
7 sweaters or vests made by Mummy
4 belts
1 pair slacks
4 pairs khaki pants
4 pairs jeans
3 pairs corduroys
10 pairs shorts
34 pairs of socks
3 pairs dress shoes
1 pair sneakers
1 pair army boots
3 pairs sandals
1 pair flip flops
17 boxers
1 gym shorts
1 swim trunks
1 pajama bottoms
1 pair gloves
4 pairs mittens
4 hand-knitted hats
2 straw hats
1 kafiya

Reasons I have cried:

1). Getting dumped unexpectedly after 5.5 years. A lot.
2). When Mama Cat got out and ran away. I cried again when she came back.
3). When someone told me they didn't want to see me, on the phone while they were at a party.
4). When my nice grandmother died.
5). When I couldn't find a home for Princess and Bear. That worked out, in the end.
6). The time my father beat me with a 2 by 4.
7). When another boyfriend accused me of not loving him.
8). After having my lower wisdom teeth pulled out and all the nasty complications.
9). Watching the television when the first tower fell down
10). Many times between the ages of 12 and 16 because my father was so awful.

I'm lucky, though, I've laughed a lot, lot more than I've cried.

Suddenly it is cool and fall has arrived. I feel like I should put a sweater on, although it is only in the 60s. My blood has thinned after living in Arizona for 17 years.

I've planted wildflower seeds in the front yard- in a few months they will be blooming. The orange tree is loaded with fat, green fruit. When Mama is here we'll make orange juice. If my oven was working I'd make brownies and stink up the house with the smell of baked goods.

It isn't quite the same as fall back in Michigan. Where I live the leaves don't turn bright yellow or red, we don't have to rake them into piles. For some reason the stores think it is going to snow here- Old Navy is selling thick coats that you could wear in Alaska.

Nothing happening on the romance front. I asked three guys out and the phone hasn't rung out. If I win the Powerball tonight I bet I wouldn't have quite the same problem.

I hope Harriet Miers isn't too mad at me now.

At David's going away party a drunk guest said something very inappropriate. Otherwise it was a lovely party.


David.

I chatted with friends.

Homer and Shane.
And came home with a stomach ache. Mr. Acid reflux has decided to visit me, too much stress. I need to sit back and relax and not worry about things.


Jeffrey and horses.

Yesterday Jeffrey came over and we walked down my street and visited the horses in the corral. They are really just big dogs, eager for attention. Later we went to karoake and then to the Denture Inn and there I ran into someone who was also attentive. The simple life in Tucson, I may not see celebrities on the street or Broadway plays, but in many ways this town is just as interesting.

A serious question. AngryBlackBitch (I worship her!) writes about the push in Missouri for "abstinence only" sexual education. Moral idiots think that teenagers will magically stop having sex if you don't explain basic biology and birth control, and instead push their religion-based philosophy on you. They want parents to teach sex ed at home.

Now when I was a child, perhaps 4 or 5, my mother told me people made babies by kissing. This was the ONLY time sex ed was discussed at home. I grew up on a farm so basic biology was perhaps a bit easier to comprehend.

Another anecdote- my friend Gregg's father was a medical doctor. One time at a restaurant his parents started discussing how sexual education should never be taught at school, only at home. Gregg interrupted them to point out that his father, who was a doctor after all, had not ONCE discussed sex with any of the five or six sons. "If you couldn't discuss this, and you are a doctor, why do you expect other parents to do so?" The parental units immediately changed the subject.

So an informal poll, dear readers, did your parents talk to you about the birds and bees? If so, was the information accurate? If not, where did you learn about the subject?

These are my mother's ancestors.

Parents

Harold, 1904-1972, and Anna, 1910-1998.

Grandparents

Philip, 1874-1907.


Grace, 1875-1929.


Maybelle, 1886-1951, and Colonel, 1886-1974.

Great grandparents

David, 1847-1929.


DeEtte, 1851-1898.


Elijah, 1848-1921.


Edna, 1851-1931.


Anna, 1866-1938, and Isaac, 1855-1936.

Great great grandparents

Robert, 1824-1904.


Francis, 1816-1884.


Chloe, 1813-1904.


Ebenezer, 1816-1895, and Harriet, 1815-1896.

On the underside of the railroad bridge, immigrants walking across the border from Mexico left their graffiti behind. The charcoal sketches proclaim their names, their hometowns, their dreams.


I thought about those men and women as I stopped at the Border Patrol station set up on the road heading north from Tombstone. I guess a lot of dreams are dashed when the immigrants are caught. Other dreams end in the nightmare of thirst in the desert- this year a record number of immigrants have died. They've been pushed into the far desert as Arizona's small border towns have become more difficult places to cross at.

I thought above dreams after I bought a PowerBall ticket. $240 million, $118 million cash. I wonder what dreams I could fulfill with that money.

I'm officially sick of righteous religious folks stirring up trouble. I was going to write something detailed about this, but the Reader's Digest version is that conservative Christians have Jumped the Shark. They are now endangering their fellow Americans. Will India and China overtake us in biological sciences because so many American students are dumbed down by intelligent design shit? Will we create more Arab terrorists because Christian military officers condone the abuse of Muslims. And so on. Our country should be figuring out ways to conserve energy, develop alternative energy, protect the environment instead of screaming because two fudgepackers might get a fancy wedding reception at the Elks Lodge.

Instead of that shit I'm thinking about my upcoming 7th Annual Cookie Decorating and Craft Party on December 11. Woohoo! Cookies to decorate, ornaments and plastic bead mosaics to make. I'm decorating my Holiday Tree with some vintage stuff I got on Ebay. Won't you come and make something with pipe cleaners?

And my mother is coming to stay for three months. I need to find a boyfriend real quick, real fast...

Fall's here. It is getting cooler outside, I can turn off the swamp cooler. I spent some time planting herbs and flowers. This afternoon I planted squash seeds in a cardboard egg carton. I don't have the best green thumb. Many of the plants around me seem to arrive on their own, like the big cactus growing in my backyard.

Fall cactus, detail.

The neighbor's fig tree has suddenly decided to make yet another crop of figs. So I go out to pick them because if you don't they fall on the ground and smell like cat urine as they rot. I take them to work because they are apparently good to eat, but I'm not a big fan.

Fall fig.

Outside I played with my digital camera and experimented with different settings. A lot of the buttons are still like magic, I'm not quite sure what they do and I'm a tad lazy when it comes to reading the manual. I wonder if people came with manuals whether mine would be interesting to read. Would you read it from cover-to-cover, or would you skip the boring stuff and read the chapter on "How to poop" instead?


Fall beard.

Too. Much. Fun. I hung out at the Pride Parade with Jim and Chris, with Panchesco and Keith nearby. The parade was short and sweet. I shouted encouragement at the various groups: "Yeah, Gay Veterans!" "Yeah, Dyke on Bike!" and "Throw us some money!" (the last was for the GBLT Chamber of Commerce). Really, it was the best parade I've ever been too. I was amazed the I Dream of Jeanie drag queen didn't fall off her perch.

Afterwards I regretted not taking my camera to the bar because Gavin was wearing the same bikini my mother used to wear in the late 60s-early 70s. Except she wasn't 6'5" before she put on tall, white gogo boots. Gavin really needs to learn proper lipstick application though.

I hung out with Mark Q., Sergio, and Patrick L. and we had a lovely time. Two thumbs up!

I suppose I should have had more pride at Tucson's gay pride festival. But for whatever reason, maybe the heat, the humidity, the lack of hotties, the awful music, I just couldn't get all prideful.



I saw quite a few friends, such as Reuben, who showed me what he looked like with a pearl necklace, and even talked with a couple of guys I didn't know very well.

Reuben.

But the most fun was visiting the Humane Society's RV and playing with some kittens, or stopping to visit with the more adorable puppy ever.

M. A. P. E.

Tomorrow is the Pride Parade. Who knows what excitement will ensue.

I've got a tummy ache. Something I ate at our non-profit center's open house is disagreeing with me majorly.

When I was in 7th grade I sat next to Mrs. B, the school's history and home economics teacher. I went to a very small school- 300 kids, kindergarten through 12th grade. Lots of rednecks and mutants. One day Chris H., who came from a very poor, very white trash family, told Mrs. B. that when he got a stomach ache, his mother would take off her clothes and put her bare butt up against his stomach to make it feel better. I can still see Mrs. B.'s horrified expression. I wonder whatever happened to that kid and his weirdo-American mother.

I decided that some Pepto Bismol was all that I needed tonight.

Varmints. I drove north a dozen miles to see the archaeological dig that Avi is running. On the way there I was behind a horse trailer with several cows in it. They kept looking at me and I felt sorry for them.


Avi

Cool site, about 2,800 years old- a pithouse, some cooking or storage pits, fire hearths and trash areas. Nearby was a historic site and I spotted something.


Avi and the skin.

It was the shed skin of a king snake or a bull snake. "How long is that snake?" I asked Avi and he pulled out his measuring tape- 48 inches. That's a monster snake. The skin led into a hole in the ground, I wouldn't want to have that snake surprise me.

Afterwards on the way to work I was behind another horse trailer. I wasn't really paying attention until something stuck its head out and stared at me.


Emus

There were seven emus riding in the trailer. They have huge, black eyes with the longest eyelashes possible. One in particular was interested in poking its head out. Again, I wondered what was going to happen to them. I certainly hope they weren't going to be eaten. I can't imagine someone killing them, knowing that they would be watching them with those pretty eyes.

At home Mama Cat is insisting on sitting right next to me, flopping her tail in the way. I bet she would like to eat beef, snake, and emus rather than the Purina catfood she gets.


Puff and Joey, late April 2000.

Questions on my mind:

1). Cut or uncut?
2). New or vintage?
3). Lost or Desperate Housewives?
4). Mexican or Italian?
5). Love or lust?

What say you?

On this episode of the Gaymazing Race, Abe and Homer make funny faces at the camera:

Uggghhh. I was going to write something witty and silly about Harriet Miers.


Hattie.

But there isn't anything witty and silly about this person. She thinks George Bush is brilliant. Another Condi Rice. George must have a long, fat cock or a really wiggly tongue. What the fuck- you'd think he would have learned a lesson in cronyism from the Fema Brownie incident.


Christ as I type this someone is shooting a semi-automatic gun off somewhere close by. I turned off my study light and I laid down on the floor for a while (the gunshots kept getting closer) and finally called 911. The operator assured me a lot of people had called, now I can hear the sirens of the approaching police cars. How's that for excitement?