Saturday, November 3

Certainly Uncertain

Where to start? At the best things are fuzzy right now. A fog has settled in and I'm trying to make my way through. Don't know if it has been there for the past few weeks and I just haven't noticed, or if I didn't want to. Things that seemed certain now are less so. Things that I was told were real don't appear to be so at all. I guess that's life. Don't bank or count on anyone but yourself. Trust others and you get hurt.

Last week checking out seemed like a possibility. One bourbon, one scotch, one beer, several prescription medications. Won't know what hit you. Still seems like the way to go.

I live in such a simple dimension right now, it's hard to believe things can be this complicated. I need basic things: shelter, food, transportation, friendship. Well, two out of three aren't bad. As my friend Wendy used to say when talking about relationships, ". . .if I wanted conversation I'd get a parrot." Where are those classified ads. . .

Can't really muster more than this for today, which is OK. I'm actually surprised there are people out of my immediate realm reading this stuff (read: guestbooks are illuminating things).

OK, the boy is gratuitous. Sue me. He's one of the latest Abercrombie hotties.


Just when I think nothing makes sense, I read something clear and to the point. The Editor of Abercombie and Fitch's Quarterly magazine, a publication renowned for its pandering qualities (you have to be older than 16 to buy it in the stores) to sell clothes, apparently has a conscience. Read the letter and see for yourself. I've often remarked how odd I found it that a clothing company's catalog contains pictures of naked people. Well, apparently they do think before making decisions. They already had a customer for life, but now one who doesn't feel as guilty.

Friday, November 2

Holding Our Breath

Photo: Brad Templeton

And so the word comes yesterday afternoon. California may be the next target. I find announced terrorist attacks to be somewhat oxymoronic. I mean, isn't the bang most terrorists want from their buck the surprise angle? And one of four bridges in the state as the target? There are some people here who would pay to see San Diego-Coronado bridge destroyed. Now, the Golden Gate, that's another story. Don't mess with my bridge. If they want to have an impact on the west coast, I say kidnap Bob Hope.

I paid particular attention to the news yesterday, however. I have always been afraid of bridges. Not so much the structure itself, but the fact there is usually a deep body of water underneath it. (Yes, that would be a bridge.) I'm not big on any body of water, but add a large, somewhat intimidating metal structure to the scenairo and I'm out of there.

I don't plan to find myself close to any bridge over the next week. Fortunately I don't have to commute over one to support my livliehood. Some companies in San Fransisco have told employees to work from home today if they can. That's great for the white collar folk. If you live in Marin and sell bagels in the Financial District, however, a bridge is in your future.


The end of another week and one where we are not, thankfully, worried about money. Though we could always have more -- and certainly find ways to spend it, today we have "enough."

Things weren't great yesterday. A series of mishaps put me over the edge. I was ready to call it quits -- jump ship -- sayonara, etc. Rick, fortunately, proved once again there is a God and got me through it. I guess admitting the difficulty we are both having with this helps. I just need to stay focused and patient. Not two of my greater attributes.

Thursday, November 1

November, Already

Photo from

One of the truths of life: calendars don't lie. Here it is, November 1st and I'm not where I want to be, not as far along with my goals as I thought I would be, and reflecting upon my personal oath I would be out of the shelter by this time. I'm trying hard not to let it get me down, but it's not easy.

Even though things are looking better than they have in a long time, I'm still not where I want to be. So what to do? Get busy again. Rick and I are committed to keeping each other accountable for our actions and progress (or lack thereof).

Rick went to the Castro last night with an old friend to watch the Halloween festivities. For him somewhat of a new experience. For me, nostalgia. Though the S.F. officials have tried their hardest to avert folks from the Castro on Halloween, fact is there are too few of them and way too many of us. I've likened Halloween as a "gay mardi gras." The gay community, especially in San Francisco, rarely needs license to celebrate (literally or figuratively). There are usually more straight people in the Castro on Halloween than gay. They come for the shock value, to gawk, to live out something in themselves they find there and no where else. Magic truly does happen in the Castro. The place transforms people. It is Lourdes for the disenfranchised, be they straight or gay.

Really working the focus group/study angle right now. Have a focus group scheduled for next week which will bring in rent money and then some, and a Stanford study on the burner which will bring in more than rent for a few weeks. The Stanford thing will hopefullly help me as well. It's a study on depression and I can use all of the help I can get on that front right now. Along with the job and the promise of other day time employment, a savings account is not far away. I just have to keep myself here and present and know it's not over yet. It will be. Just not yet.

Full moon madness continues.

Wednesday, October 31

Hanging On. . .

Beautiful morning. Air fresh from the rains. Feeling of hope. We're actually able to hang on. Thanks to for the photograph

Little stir of craziness thanks to Halloween and the full moon. We don't feel quite as burdened as we have in the past few weeks. Things are actually beginning to look up. Our application blitz at the mall may just pay off.


Today actually feels like spring -- one of those strange California experiences. If I were still in DC it would be cold. Spring like weather seems to bring out the most beautiful boys. Of course, neither Rick nor I are what you would call prime boyfriend material (PBFM) right now, but since we don't have our arms crossed over our chests we still look. It's God's will, I like to think.

There are many fine specimens right now at the shelter. We have some of the people there believing that we receive riches once we recruit a man "to the other side." If that were true, we would have been able to have built a city the size of Pittsburgh, fully furnished, by this time.

I actually had a friend from a "former life" convinced that gay men are "recertified" each year. Of course those of us born with cards know it's true. You have to keep up certain standards: number of brunches attended, "de riguer" magazine subscriptions up to date, vacationing at "select" locales, preferences in music, film, and culture. I need not explain this any further since after viewing so many weblogs, I'm convinced the medium is largely populated by gay men.

So, here it is, the middle of the week, a gorgeous day, and I'm feeling good. I wonder what will happen? Can't help but think that since so much has, and will continue to happen. I'm just hoping that for Rick and I it continues to go positive.

Tuesday, October 30

"Don't Know Why. . ."

Only Lena Horne should be allowed to sing "Stormy Weather." It should be a law. The first real rains of the upcoming season hit early this morning and there is the promise of a major deluge before it is over. Rain paints a new picture for us.

Last night many of the faces I know from the shelter or the food programs were looking glum. You could feel a change of weather approaching. News reports were predicting a cold and wet storm for the area. For those who have kept praying for one more nice day, a further stretch to the Indian Summer we've been appreciating, worry grew. Though the reality turned to be far less dire than prognosticators warnings, wet is still wet. Suddenly "I'll just live under the bridge" becomes unthinkable.

I'm hoping the new positive spin we are on will continue into a place for us to live. The job hunt continues to today as we return completed applications to the places we visited yesterday. Yeah, I'm nervous and I can't help it, so why fight it. At least for the moment we have a place to live.


Rick maintains every fag needs a sassy African American hag, so today's Diversion du jour is who I would choose to be mine. Check it out on the link at right.

Monday, October 29

Let's Get Serious About This

Today we are putting out full effort on the job front. It's time to be serious about getting on with our lives; getting a new place to live; rediscovering what we want. If anyone can do this, it's Rick and I.


We spent the morning at the local mall collecting applications at various retail establishments. At least the oncoming holiday season has improved the picture somewhat.

Sunday, October 28

Sunday, Sunday

For the past couple of years, this has been the most depressing day of the week for me. Sunday used to be one of my most predictable days. Coffee, Bagels, "This Week," Farmer's Market, brunch, laundry, a hike, grocery shopping, dinner, a movie, sex and then sleep. It was pretty simple and hit most of the major life groups that seemed important. Now, Sunday, like so many other days and so many other things, takes on the ownership of someone else.

We did laundry today. We had a good breakfast (thanks to John, the saint who runs our kitchen and looks out for all of us), but I was not in control. Did I want to sleep until 11? Yes. Did I want to do laundry at 8? No. Did I want to really do much of anything today? Not really. But I will because I have no other choice right now.