The Blog of the 30-something fag- January Edition
January 11, 2004
My Kingdom for a digital signal
Seems strange that the first person to ever inform me of the blog phenom is asleep right now in the master suite of our RV tonight while I apply my talent to my own personal vesion of the concept. I showed Jan the Blog tonight, as if for the first time, (I'm not sure, was it? M'God, really.)
I invited her to read it on a regular basis and she said she would. Now I find the bar a little higher than it was before. Blogging is definately easier when you think no one is watching- kinda like dancing.
Now I have to be poignant AND witty to entities other than my own self. Oh well, I guess it
serves a higher purpose (as if that was my goal here).
we've been traveling all day today thru redwood forests and had very little incident of a digital signal. I cannot upload to the internet and check my email if our signal is analog.
if any of my interested followers are feeling a little impatient for the latest disspatch (or both of you for that matter) your concens cannot match my own, and I assure you that as soon as I have it, you'll have it. Meaning, whenever I get within faxing distance of civilization I will have the latest uploaded for your perousel.

Back to the journey at hand.
If you enter a dispatch of a blog, and find yourself confused and lost, look down to the bottom of the page. Blogs work their way up chronologically, so you'll find the start of the story at the bottom of the page, that way the newest stuff is always on top. This concept sucks for the new guy, but works great for the true regular, and we all want to think of ourselves as true regulars, right?The Pacific Northwest is beautiful, let's just get that out of the way. It seems every state, once you get past the metro areas, has a pretty side. Like the facial flesh under the heavy beard of a middle aged man. Untouched, soft, fresh, new.

Northern California is logging towns, houses made from a single tree, and gift shops merchandising on the legend of bigfoot. Seems everywhere I go I see whole communities that evolve around philosophies stated in the single image of a ¢.35 postcard. Klamath River is no different than any other town within a mile of route 66. Where there's a gimmick, there's a gift shop.

Moving right along

Who's the bigger idiot? Is it the guy who's luck is so bad he get's whatever car he's leased, rented or borrowed banged up, as if he's walking around with a target sign on his head? Or is it the Moron who leased or lended the car to this guy?

I lent my van to Joe and it came back with damage. Can I get mad at Joe? I don't think so. As the old parable states " . . . You knew I was a snake when you picked me up!"

On the road again
My cousin Jan and I both share this overwhelming addiction to the road. We like to travel, and though neither of us minds flying the friendly skies, we seem to get our fix mostly from the highway. There's something about the view through a windshield, the rhythm of white lines flashing past you, the intimacy of a travel-buddy conversation, the privacy of avoiding the masses of airports and public dining courts, the freedom to stop at whatever moves us, be it big rock, redwood or endless views. There's nothing like it.
I got into the RV on Saturday and we (once again) headed out into the open road to see what we could see. On this trip we intend to interview Jean Houston, Neil Donald Walsch(Conversations with God) and Steven Simon (What Dreams May come, Somewhere in Time), but whats we're the most excited about is seeing a road and scenery that we haven't seen before. We've been all over Southern Californai and the idea of looking out into a new landscape fills me with excitement.

First night, like with all first nights in this rig, we woke on the beach to the sound of a ctre young ranger banging on our sheet-metal door and asking us to pay our fee's (at 7;00 in the morning)
"How much is it?"I asked him, roused from a dream for only 30 seconds at the most. "It's eighteen dollars" he said smiling.
As I handed him a $20 bill I smart-alekly asked "Does it include coffee?" He looked at me unamused "Not really" He answered. "Then I suppose continental breakfast is . . . "
" . . Out of the question" he finished, and handed me two mangled bills without looking up, effectively killing my flirtatous demeanor. I let the spring loaded door slam without so much as an "Adios".

Dog is God spelled backwards
Talking with Bang on the phone that day, he fills me in on the short list of misbehavings and emotional trauma my boys have put him through since I left them in his care. I'm not sure what I'm more stressed out about, the boys misbehaving to the point of monetary inconvenience(Rusty tearing up the rug in the hallway) or Bang's personal peace of mind, this being his first full time dog-sitting gig with a pair of rowdies like Mix and Rusty. I'm certain Mickey is determined to cause trouble while Daddy is away. I may have to call in the National Guard to keep him in the yard.

We drove all day and stopped briefly to shop and eat and gas up. The 101 freeway is so familiar to me now, I could probably tell you from the smell of the road which major-brand outlets we're cruising by at any given mile.
We pulled into Kelly and Ed's driveway in San Rafael and went in for wine and cheese before heading out for Thai food. Later in the evening, naked and soaking in their new fiberglass mass of creature comfort, bubbling and gurgling Kelly, Ed and I discussed how from a distance a beautiful home, two cars in the garage and a new hotub making clouds of steam throughout the neighborhood may smell like success, but in reality does little to qwell the little voices in your head raising doubts like "Is this it?" "Am I doing it right?" "Am I gonna make it?". Seems it's an endless quest, and no matter how well you juggle it, it always seems like you need to work a little harder to really get your ducks in a row.
Kelly and Ed are doing everything right, but inside their terrified that it could all fall apart at any moment. I wonder of they would be surprised to learn that EVERYBODY feels that way, no matter how neatly their ducks are aligned.
We left their pancake kitchen this morning, after filling our tanks with San Rafael city water from Ed's driveway hose, and pulled the RV out onto the 101 in search of an 11:30 service at the Church of Religeous Science.
Jan went to church as I meandered through the village listening to Telepopmusic, God I love this iPod , thanks Bang-Baby!

Feedback to this article HERE

January 3, 2004

Other Boot poised . . . .
I keep having this strange re-accuring dream. I hear a knocking at my door and I open it to find the fun police have been tracking me for years, and came to ticket me. Seems I'm having WAY too much fun, not working hard enough, and it seems I'm about three thousand orgasms over my lifetime allowance, I wake up screaming and clutching my Sponge-Bob-Square-pants plush toy/pillow crying hysterically. Some nights it has taken Bang over an hour to calm me down (most local liquor stores close at 2 a.m.)

Maybe my resolution this year should be to make an honest attempt to live within my means.

Ha Ha, that sounds so Wierd! Ok, enough of that, I'm creeping myself out!

It's raining outside, Los Angeles resembles a runny nose today, and after a long nap Bang appeared in the living room with a freshly popped bag of Redenbaker, and joined me on the couch for some afternoon TV. Dr. Phil is talking about weight loss again.
Guess he's running out of material for his regular show.

The Season on the Road
Winslow and I took the RV to the desert between Christmas and New Years in an effort to Get Outta Dodge. Alas, aside from a couple of morning walks with the dogs to snap photos, the RV was pretty much a portable office, as we weaved from campsite to campsite looking for the best digital signal (as not to lose our connection with Mother Internet). "Heck" we thought, after finding a sweet spot in the middle of NOTHING, on the edge of a cliff, with a clear view of the Salton Sea "We could stay here a WEEK if we didn't have someplace to be in 48 hours!"

Yeah, and if our campsite didn't strongly resemble the surface of MARS!
Rusty and Mickey took themselves for a walk a couple of times but came back exasperated, because there wasn't even anything out there worth peeing on.

(Note to Self: Add to their vocabulary a hearty "What the Fuck?!" ) Not a fire hydrant for 100 miles, probably because there is nothing FLAMMABLE for twice that radius. Try as you like, You can't burn dirt!

Sometimes I feel a little strange being a non-conforming fag. Especially the other night when Bang and I and Eva and Brian went out to Pantages Theatre to see a free show of "The Producers" with Jason Alexander and Martin Short. We had pretty good seats, and the audience consisted of a large busload of people wearing red nametags.
"Who are these old people" I heard Bang ask, "They belong to some SAM'S group".

I took a look and was horrified to see that the entire Southern California chapter of The Good Sam Club, An RV enthusiast group that I BELONG TO were guests of the evening. I hadn't the heart to tell him I was a member.
I'm just not your average fag, I know, and I'm reminded every time I see an episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. There just arent' a lot of gay guys who like traveling these nations highways who also happen to be under the age of 55. I know I should be more into clubbing, or Marth Stewart, but I can't help myself. I see a 35' Southwind and I get a hardon. :(

After I got back from the desert, I collected BANG at the airport, and we made plans to join Johnny Burke and Scott, plus 50 other people at Scott's newly built loft/duplex in Echo Park to ring in the New Year. A two year project finally finished and Scott moved in a week ago. Johnny said the workers were in the house right up to 3 p.m. on new years eve finishing the floors. The walls were concrete and glass and the grass was so ne as to still showing it's recently sod-trimmed seems.

Bang and Tommy 2003
On route to our first New Years Eve Party
Occasionally,on special nites, or at parties Bang and I like to single out certain sad people in the (crowd based on hair, outfits or corrupted speech patterns) and entertain ourselves throughout the evening pointing out their most amuzing Faux Pas.
Bang spoiled it by making friends with Johnny Burke's Sister-in-law who was a quick choice for me based simply on her color coordination and Marathon-running husband. I had no choice but to be nice at the table, and see what kind of trouble I could cause by helping the hosts out.I began by picking up the bottles and filling glasses in an effort to streamilne the spread of some of the nasty rumours I had started just a few short hours before.
The crowd was an equal mix of pre and post AA people, all having some unofficial dysfunctional relationship with Alcohol. It was fun, I became really popular really fast, made a game out of memorizing the names of everybody (so I could talk about them accurately to others), and kept myself busy enough to keep my face away and out of the booze
By 10 p.m. everyone was happy, and having a great time- simply said, the night went horribly wrong, and we left early. No fun was to be had at all.
We came home and fell asleep with our heads at the foot of the bed, all the lights on and the radios blaring KCRW, if that doesn't sound pathetic enough- WE WERE SOBER!

Feedback to this article HERE


For more pics of
the Weekend Warriors
Desert Roadtrip
Click HERE