Friday notes:

~It's only March 31st and my eyes opened at 5:30 in the morning because it's already light out. It feels much too early for day. Time to hang my crushed velvet sage/mossy green drapes in the bedroom. They'll look great against the deep ochre walls and near my eggplant (or is it now aubergine?) comforter.

~Walking down the hill to my car, I glimpsed the Olympics. These western peaks were on fire from the morning sun. I caught my breath, stopped, stared and took it in.

~Living near a park, the neighborhood is filled with avid walkers and runners. This morning, it was two large sweating packs, in uniforms, chugging along at a good clip. It always makes me smile.

~The cherry blossoms on the west side of the hill are gone but those on the east side of the hill are in full bloom and gorgeous.

~In April or May, I'm going to figure out how to swing a digital camera. I miss taking pictures, and haven't since I stopped working as a photofinisher. Being very picky with color, I couldn't find a lab that I trusted with color balance, machine calibration and proper chemical temp, etc. Little controlling, aren't I? It seem that digital would be a good solution.

~An email requesting another bio. This time for the queer spirituality show. After nothing ever...now, it's 3 bios in 3 months. Feels weird to me. I can't really use what I've written because I'd like it to line up with the theme of the show. Back to the drawing board.

~The fact that I use "I" so frequently in my writing annoys me. Minimizing its usage is one of my challenges, with the other being a decrease in adverbs.

~Play party tonight. One of my dates needed to cancel...and we will reschedule for another time. But there is still the other...very much looking forward to it. It's funny to be in a space hungry to play right now because today is a very tough day, heart-wise. Earlier this morning I needed to leave the office and run to my car, where I burst into tears. I drove around for a while...almost blinded by the pain...but didn't know what else to do. In a response email, my shrink copied my words "It never really disappears. Just hides" and responded with "Yes, AND slowly evolves." I must keep this in mind. It does evolve.

~Saturday is the fundraiser. Sunday is a taking it easy day. On Monday I will begin to think and prep for my Thursday flight and weekend trip to NYC. Question: What's the weather like in NYC right now?

~For the first time in years, I am almost fully caught up in my day gig work. Unbelievable.
I have noticed some positive changes since my sabbatical. My head is much clearer and therefore solutions present themselves quicker and cleaner.

That's it for now.
Enjoy your day!

"I am here to tell you, large parrots make for the most fascinating of pets, entirely rewiring what the hell you think a barely domesticated creature is supposed to do because they so easily flout and mock any and all of the things a dog or cat of hamster would do -- which is to say, they can talk, they can read your meek little human mind, they will only get angry if you get angry and will only laugh and shrug and nip at your feeble attempts at punishment and will stare at you in utter unblinking fascination as you have sex -- because large parrots and especially large African Gray parrots are a) preternaturally smart, b) creepily observant and c) neurotic as a Jewish comedian on meth."

Parrots.
Large African gray parrots.
That's the topic of Morford's column for today, especially the one in his home. Delightfully quirky read. Check out the rest of My Parrot Screams Like A Girl. It's pretty funny.

Buzz Cuts, Boot Black, and BBQ

This Saturday, April 1 at the Seattle Eagle from 4:00-8:00 pm

The buzz cutter will be the famous Patrick Bear (who I saw yesterday and he's as tasty as ever), Gregory LaRouxe will be our bootblack, and Corey Krantz will be the cook.

~Buzz cuts: $15 (or a “deluxe” for $25),
~Bootblacking: quick boot shine $5, traditional boot blacking $10, and deluxe boot blacking $20.
~BBQ: hot dogs $2, hamburgers $2, veggie-burgers $2, chili with cheese & chopped green onions $5.

Proceeds from the event will continue the endowment of the Tony DeBlase scholarship, under the umbrella of the Pride Foundation. We are especially grateful to “Seattle’s Favorite Plumber”, Big Jim, who will be matching the donations brought in at April’s event, and to The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence from The Abby of St. Joan, who have graciously agreed to be present at the BBQ to bless hot wieners for a $5 donation.

A new item on the agenda is the showing of a movie at each fundraiser. The April movie is The Passion of Joan of Arc. Check out the link for a fascinating history of the actual film.

Hope to see you there!

Our bodies are funny things.

It seems, because of the art festival…something inside knew to pull back. It went away and allowed me to function, enjoy and be present.
Once the festival was done…little by little it crept back, slowly increasing in momentum and force.

The pain.

By yesterday, when I returned home from work, all I could do was curl up in a ball and cry.
It never really disappears. Just hides.

Listening to iTunes this morning, I catch these two lines from Cat Stevens "Father and Son":

…How can I try to explain, when I do he turns away again.
It’s always been the same, same old story.
From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen….

…All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,
It’s hard, but it’s harder to ignore it…

It smacks hard today.

Last night I had a few free passes for an advanced screening of Summer Storm, a German gay youth coming of age film. It was much better than I expected.

(Edited: I just found this review.)

The opening shots were incredibly sexy, in a surprising way. I love, love, love finding and seeing new ways to describe eroticism. It's another reminder of how infinite our world and sex really is.

Speaking of sex, before the film we tried a new eating experience. Bleu Bistro.

It's a couple doors down from Septieme. Each time I've walked past (for the last couple years), I would make a mental note to try the joint. They have a small sign advertising wasabi grilled cheese sandwiches.

You walk in, and it feels like a dark cavelike maze. All of the tables (some very, very small) are tucked and cloaked, some behind curtains. Christmas lights strung up on the ceiling. The ambience rocks. The food is some of the best I've had in a while.

Their menu is massive, with pages and pages of drinks before you get to the food listings. Greek nachos, made with feta and olives. Wasabi marinated tofu sandwich with so many other goodies piled on. And...my wasabi grilled cheese on sourdough. Damn. Seriously good. I was there with the Bear and the bunny and we tried each other's foods.

This was one of those meals where each bite was a mini orgasm. I was giddy from the inside out, and literally danced in my seat while eating.

I will return.


This week Rob Brezsny has his April Fool's Freewill Astrology.

And Morford...writes in Long Live The 9/11 Conspiracy!

"Here is your must-read for the month. Here is your oh-my-God-I'm-sending-this-piece-to-every-smart-person-I-know hunk of outstanding, distressing, disquieting media bliss.

Here it is: an absolutely exceptional inside scoop on the white-hot world of Sept. 11 conspiracy theories, writ large and smart by Mark Jacobson over at New York magazine, and it's mandatory reading for anyone and everyone who's ever entertained the nagging thought that something -- or rather, far more than one something -- is deeply wrong with the official line on what actually happened on Sept. 11."

Diversity at SEAF?

On the SEAF LJ community list, the question of diversity was brought up, like clockwork. It's a common complaint, not only for this festival, but in the industry I work in and many other environments. We can open our doors and do all we can, including active recruitment, to seek out and attempt to reflect a diverse population, but if the caliber of the work, or as in the workplace, the resume of the person isn't up to par...what do we do?

As the voice of one juror, who is queer, who works full time for a queer foundation and seeks diversity, my main priority when looking at the work was quality and originality. There were more diverse pieces submitted and I wanted to vote for them because it would offer contrast and another point of view. But in my opinion, and apparently that of the other jurors, many pieces didn't hold to the level of quality we desired. Quite a few times I'd cringe inside as we voted down a piece. My inclusive nature desired to see it hung, but in good conscience, because I also wanted a top notch show, I couldn't give it a yes vote.

Upon waking this morning, I considered this very dilemma. I think SEAF, at this point, needs to decide (maybe loosely) whether they would prefer to represent a little of everything, which may sacrifice quality, or choose to become an art festival that showcases excellence in art. One isn't better than the other - two different goals. From there, they would need to make sure their mission, vision and values reflect their objective.

I'm not in Kansas anymore.

So much for lazy days.

Although last week was my first week back from sabbatical, I was easing into things. Today, I dove in, head first. It's another world. Not a complaint...just reality. It's a day filled with the complexities and problems and craziness that comes with trying to track information.
Oh my gosh. I'm seriously pooped.

That means it's time for an energy boost - a walk before dinner.
The sun is shining and the air is warm. It's spring!

If interested, the Seattle PI had an article on SEAF.

A quickie~

Busy busy weekends.

This past weekend was a full weekend of SEAF.
Next Saturday is the fundraiser for the Tony DeBlase Scholarship fund.
The following weekend I'm in NYC for LLC and meeting friends!

Then…I just booked a trip to western MA in May. I'll be there from May 17 thru May 24. My parents are selling their home…the one that I've known for 41 years. So I wanted to take time, say goodbye to the house, help out the folks…and, this time intentionally coincides with a trip to Easton Mountain, where I'll get to visit friends from Easton and Body Electric and help out for the weekend. I can't wait to get back there. In some ways it's my second home.

Maybe one day I'll have a weekend that doesn't involve hyperlinks. :-)

I'm home. Dinner is done. And SEAF is wrapped up for one more year. It was a good festival. The work hanging was stronger than past shows. Seeing this increase in quality makes me happy.

Today's panel discussion, in spite of my great apprehension, went smoothly.

You'll hear about it in the next few days. I have done some writing, but kept it fairly private, sharing only with friends. Gathering my notes I'll pull something together, about the festival and my impressions as a juror. I wanted to wait until the festival was over before I posted anything, including thoughts I wrote after the first day of jurying.

Soon. Now it's time to rest.

SEAF VIP party~

I'm back from the VIP party for SEAF. It's still going for another hour, but I had already been there for 3 and was tired. Tomorrow's a very long day, beginning quite early at my desk, then staff retreat, shrink appointment and back to SEAF for the official opening. Saturday I'll pop back in at some point. Sunday, I am sitting on the panel for a discussion of erotic art. Other panels members are one other juror, Midori, and...damn, right now I can't remember the other two. Sorry about that.

Tonight was nice. More low-key, not too many people. Hot Dish (the caterer formerly known as Feeding Frenzy) provided the food.
Yeah...that's my Bear. :-)

The food was excellent. Artichoke truffles rolled in (I think) goat cheese and then in crushed mint. It's a light, creamy green delectable little ball. Veal albondigas. Little sweet potato and red onion pizza bits. Small tartlets with eggplant and other veggies. Gorgonzola shortbread with sundried tomato sauce type stuff and a few more other tasty treats I can't remember right now.

The Bear had 5 or 6 boys passing around trays of food. They were all dressed in white wife beaters and tighty whities, their bodies and clothing (such as it was) smeared with some food substance that gave the appearance of dirt.
Seriously hot.

The hanging work looks fabulous. There is less work on the walls than previous years. It's an advantage because you can focus easier on each piece. In addition to myself, there was one other juror who showed up and we had the opportunity to tag the 1st, 2nd and 3rd place tags on the exhibition and the auction work...from decisions that were made during the jury process.

When I return over the weekend, I'll pick a time when there are fewer people. It makes it easier to really look at the work. It is so interesting to see it live instead of in jpegs, projected on a wall.

I saw Drub again tonight. We first met 2 years ago at SEAF and catch up each year at this event. He was with another guy who looked very familiar. Drub and I were talking away, and I'd periodically look over at the guy standing beside him. Foolish me. I hadn't immediately introduced myself. After a bit I looked again at this man...and then...recognition.

"Jean-Paul?"
He smiled and responded "yeah...I wondered how long it would take you."

I was a tad embarrassed. He is the organizer of the queer spirituality show whom I met last week! It seems he and Drub are good friends. It was good to see him again and once again, I'm reminded it is a small, small world.

On that note...it's time to kick back, chill and catch early zzz's.

This helps. It's the little bit of encouragement I need.

"All the best processes take time. When we try to push everything forward too fast, we deprive ourselves of the valuable chance to nurture a wise investment or tend a delicate plant. You're keen now, to bring closure to a matter that is uncertain and unsettled. You want it resolved so you can move on. Do what you have to in order to feel comfortable but don't close doors or rule out options that can be left, if not entirely open, at least a little bit 'ajar'. Over the next few weeks and months, some situation may become very different."

It's my horoscope for today from Jonathan Cainer.

Timely because yesterday my shrink kept insisting I'm on the edge of revelation. Although I didn't want to believe him I feel myself chomping at the bit, trying not to push too fast but continue to work as hard as I can.

Delicate balance.

Journaling and Art.

Well, well. Per Brezsny:
It's the Introspection Season, Capricorn. I encourage you to write copiously in a journal. Here are several themes that would be fruitful to explore: (1) Your most amazing qualities and your worst qualities. (2) The hundred things you want to accomplish in the next 30 years. (3) Your bitter complaints, horrendous pain, and lost dreams. (4) Everything you love and everything that's beautiful and everything that works. In addition to writing your heart out and your ass off, paste in cut-out pictures from magazines, draw pictures, and ask friends to write messages to you.

This speaks to me for a few reasons.

Recently, I haven't been able to even write full pages in my private journal. Just the thought of doing so hurts. Knowing this, every once in a while, I force myself to try only to put out a paragraph of garbage.

About three weeks ago I picked up Drawing from Life: The Journal As Art. It was one of those books that jump off the shelf and bonk you on the head. I've been keeping journals since I was a teen. One thing I have never done is mix art, sketches and doodles with my writing. They remain separate. Not consciously, because I'd think about it. I can (well not as much recently) but could sit at Septieme and fill up the newsprint with ink gestures and quickie thumbnails. OR I could sit and write. But somehow I can't mix the two. Never both together. It was curious.

Neither is about being perfect because I can write drivel (often do) and while sketching, as long as my hand is moving, I'm successful. Sketches are not about making the pretty picture. Most of the time it's chicken scratches.

Huh, just had a thought. It's kind of like meditation, isn't it? I figure, meditation is successful as long as you keep breathing. Whatever comes into your head is almost irrelevant. It's the act of doing, not the results.

From there, I've looked back upon my favorite pieces. They all have one thing in common. I haven't struggled with them. As I've showcased in the last few days, they just happen. None were intended to be a final anything. So, no goals, no expectations.

Back to journals and writing. Since last month, I finally understand why I have never been able to mesh both together. I would think about it. I'd even see it in my mind's eye. As I continue to heal, I know I'll finally be able to integrate the painting and words.

It is a beautiful book, not only in content but quality of the paperstock and design.

The rest of this week's Freewill Astrology is found here.

And today's Mark Morford, in American Teens, Perky As Candy speaks to something I've not heard before. Must be out of the popculture loop.

A portrait~

How about another painting? I've placed it behind a link because many would say it is not worksafe, even though it pisses me off to no end that art would be considered obscene.

It's a little piece (9x12) that was painted in March of 2002. I was getting ready to take a week off to paint yet had no idea what I would do. One of my loves, being the smartass he is, took a self portrait and emailed me the image. I opened it up and knew what I wanted to paint. Him.

I hadn't painted in over a year, and wasn't sure of myself. This painting was complete within 30 minutes. I put down the brush, burst into tears and immediately called A. asking if I could show him something. He invited me right over.

Running into his home, I was crying "I can still paint, I can still paint" as I placed the painting on the table.

Coming from a workhorse nature, I struggled for years with the idea that if I didn't labor and toil for weeks on a piece, then it wasn't valid. The painting taught me that the amount of time spent is not one of the criteria I should use to determine what makes a successful piece. This little/not so little portrait is one of my favorites.

The painting happily lives in Seattle Treefort.

Enjoy.

Beyond the veil.


Over the weekend I began compiling thoughts as to why I've been so hesitant to write, considering I've been open before.

The kind of work I'm doing in therapy...long, drawn-out, highly intensified work is lonely work. I feel isolated more often than not. I only know of, here in town, (although there are more out there) one person other than my shrink, I can talk with about this. The difference is this friend would do it once a week or once every other. He couldn’t imagine so many sessions a week. But he's incredibly supportive and gets it.

You have no idea how crappy I feel when, because of a bad day, I need to cancel plans. How weak I feel when out of the blue, pain fills up and I can't do anymore than remain in bed. How freakish and broken I feel because I'm experiencing all this and most times there doesn't seem to be an end to it.

Last Thursday I spoke with my friend on the phone.

This friend had a very difficult batch of time while doing similar work. Within the last 6 months, he's come out the other side. Once he broke through, almost immediately, his life has changed in ways he would have never imagined possible. Yes, there's still pain. We'll never escape that. Life is hard. But with that, he is experiencing an abundance of joy and heart riches.

I watch him and it keeps me going.

"So Gaggie, how are you?"
"Horrible. Thanks for asking. All I can do today is sit, curled in my chair. Nothing feels good. Can't even watch movies. At best, I can do dumb sitcoms because they don't engage me."
"I get that. Through the worse of my work I would spend full weekends, and sometimes weeks in bed doing that very thing."
"You did? Really?"
"Yeah."

Upon hearing his words I began to cry. That little bit of knowledge confirmed that I was really doing okay, in regards to my journey. I wasn't just stuck in a pit and depressed (as all the commercials try to point out).

Because of how our society shuns anything not considered "normal", I’ve allowed myself to carry much shame regarding the work I'm doing. Over the weekend it hit me. We have a get well quick culture. We don't speak of pain. We don't work with it. We have no desire to pay our dues, earn our way, and the slow process is scoffed at.

Pop a pill. Get over it. Just paint. Go for a walk. Smile.
Fuck.
Watch Dr. Phil, or read all the quickie self-help books. Most of it is about bandaids. Yes, bandaids are needed but deep wounds are going to take more than a bandaid.

I've lost my patience with optimism, preferring realism. It will take as long as it takes. Don't try to invalidate my experience by saying "it's not that bad...it'll be fine. Nothing's hopeless."

Instead, hugs...a smile...support...love. Much more valuable, and helpful.

Last week I noticed a couple changes. Sunday was brutal. Monday, I woke, and everything was lighter. I had amazing energy and plowed through many projects. Tuesday...down again. I now have an inkling about how the day will go when I awake. I feel my heart, and it tells me whether or not it's going to take a break or work on purging more pain.

I cherish last Monday because it's a reminder of what's in store for me. I will again have good days with high energy. Every once in a while I get these glimpses.

In the meantime, I’ve broken through the thin veil that shielded me from long ago pain. Each week, memories, in the shape of deep, long-ago repressed sensations are hitting my gut. The pain that comes now sits on the surface...my constant companion. With others, it sits quietly while I laugh or smile. When alone, I cry. Specific tears that had remained in corked darkness now find their way to the light. Just because. Because one time, long ago, somewhere, somehow...a little kid was hurt.

Yesterday in my session I mentioned to the shrink:

"I’m double-checking. I really don’t want to get stuck in this place…allow the pain to be my comfort."
"The only way you’d get stuck is if you dig in and refuse to move through it. To get through it is to move through it which means feel it."

I’m trusting this guy.
Holding fragments of an old veil in my hand, my heart exposed, I have no more choice but to trust.

Today~

Today was my first day back. Strange and familiar at the same time. It was strongly suggested that I ease back in by only working a half day which I hadn't considered, but glad I did heed the advice.

Today was the first day of spring. It showed. Warm and sunny. It was a perfect day for a walk. I could smell the season of renewal. Maybe, just maybe that renewal will filter through my being.

That's all.

Want to see another more recent painting?

The piece was done at the same time as the little still life. It has found a new home. All I need to do it get it framed and ship it off.

This is a very different painting for me, in the sense of its creation. For the first time, I began with no idea of what I would do. Normally, if I blow apart representation, I still begin from observation...from life. I've never before tackled a blank canvas with no vision. It's a scary way for me to work. I tend to prefer reacting to my environment. More exciting. But maybe...whenever I get back to painting, I'd try this again. Good exercise.

For some reasons, when I post it, the colors aren't quite as saturated as when I see it in iPhoto. This one loses a little something in translation. It's a small painting, 12x16, limited by the size of the space I can kinda work in.

Death by Gnomes...



...and other bunny suicides.

Bunny Bound

This is one of the critters in my office that was made for me a few years back by a coworker. I love the St. Andrews cross created with coffee stirrers.



The top of my cubicle wall has a few more animals in varied play positions, such as a little horse in suspension bondage...the rope being dental floss. A little mummified dog (wrapped in saran wrap). A lamb in shackles (shackles were some of the plastic ring binding). A caged chick (the tight cage being the wire that covers the cork on a champagne bottle).

For a while, each time I returned from vacation I'd find another one of my little guys in a torturous position. :-)

Bunny was the first.