Its an open secret—gay men, and their friends, rarely pay for condoms. At least in urban areas where a variety of agencies with the mission to stop the spread of HIV place giant fishbowls of free condoms in every bar and bathroom. There is really no excuse for any gay man not to have a condom handy if the situation, ahem, arises.
Also, it's fun to fill your fruit fly's purse with them when she isn't looking. No reason she shouldn't be safe too.
The very long Memorial Day Eve Sunday in the Park (with Wilson's break for dancing) ended back in the Castro. However, after 12 hours together, the conversation started to wane. Enjoying each-other's company again at Toad Hall, someone dug into the adjacent bowl of condoms to discover that the STOP AIDS Project had switched to a new brand, and was fully stocked with "One" Condoms, each apparently with a different design.
And Lordy, were there many, many designs. And many were very, very clever. While there seemed to be an endless number of designs, one could find a pair as they pulled from the bowl. Which somehow, or perhaps obviously, led to several hands of "Condom Go Fish."
We kicked of Mem Day Weekend with a happy hour Thursday night at Toad Hall. Skot Land just finished his first semester of exams (design school for interior architecture, way to go) and wanted a little happy time. We are always pro-happy time.
One of Skot's friends who joins us from time to time works in a dildo factory. ("Of course he does." I hear you say. Yeah, I love living in SF.) From time to time, he bings us free "irregulars" they can't sell—a concept which totally cracks me up. One of his responsibilities is the shredding and destruction of such irregulars and other ill-formed toys. He has to shred these because otherwise, people dig through their trash for them. This just cracks me up more and more, expect for the creeped-out factor. And I know this must be a problem as when I helped a friend clean out his recently-deceased brother's home, we returned in the morning to find all of the expired medications, personal items, and sex toys were taken from the garbage.
Anyway, this dildo-factory friend (who shall remain nameless) also gets to play around with the molds and materials from time to time. Sometimes he tries mixing different color elements to see how they combine in the melting/forming process. He does this in small sqaure trays, and he uses the results as coasters for fun. Coming straight from work (insert your own joke there), he brought a couple along to happy hour.
Then it struck me. These would be a genius material for bathroom shower tiles! These tiles are strong, but pliable and rubber-like without the biodegradable decay issues. You could have your own padded bathroom. Young couples could romp without bruising. When the elderly slip, the bathroom breaks their fall. Just picture them as tiles:
I imagine they would be more popular in showers designed for two. Or, you know, more.
And here we had it: a material maker, the idea, and an interior designer— all at the same table! Was this IT? The genesis of an idea? A new product? Massive commercial success by combining disparate enterprises (dildo manufacturing meets domestic textiles)?
Meh. We just ordered another round of drinks and moved on. But it was so close...
A lot of my friends and I use Flickr for photo sharing and photo hosting (great for blogs, sites, and printers). I've got over 13,000 photos on Flickr myself. Some of us consider Flickr as a sort of backup, even though there is no easy way to bulk download the original high quality files we originally uploaded.
No more. Now there is a free Adobe Air application called Bulkr that will downlaod "all the photos from a user's Flickr stream, a search result, or even backs up your own Flickr photos using the highest quality version available."
The Nashville trip was both wonderful but exhausting, and with a month worth of work on my desk, too many invitations, and a holiday weekend, I had to his the SF ground running. But work has been wrangled and my professional writing has been submitted so I can get back to the typical silliness that is I'm Just Sayin', and finally post photos and such from the Nashville trippy trip.
The only Nashville night I did get a change to blog about was Showtunes/Play-time with Keith and Simon. Simon just posted his video clip of our time on stage to YouTube.
The girl hiding her face became one of our friends for the night. If you listen closely, you can hear her say "I work for the government!" as she hides her face. It wasn't a local government, so I don't think she has any worries here. She was pretty awesome, and it's a shame that in this day and age she has to fear for her job just got going to a gay dance club where there is a drag show. And plenty of straight folks anyway.
Life in SF is already back to its general surreal level, and now that it's June and Pride Month, that dial is just starting to be turned UP.
AT&T has as much love from consumers as BP right now. So what do they do? Kill their affordable and care free plans in favor of expensive micro-monitoring plans.
And again, everyone from the tech industry to casual users notch up their hate to yet another level. Is their exclusive contract with Apple so strong that they can withstand this pissing off of their own customers unabated?
Okay, I don't know a lot about music synth/edit apps, but this is cool. Paul Lamere is having fun on his blog Music Machinery this week with a new hack code for Python called The Swinger (by Tristan at MIT) which takes any song and stretches out the first half of each beat shortens the last half, turning any song into a swing count. The effect is pretty cool.
The scientists learned that vigorous physical activity as brief as 42 minutes over a 3-day period, similar to federally recommended levels, can protect individuals from the effects of stress by reducing its impact on telomere length. Telomeres (pronounced TEEL-oh-meres) are tiny pieces of DNA that promote genetic stability and act as protective sheaths by keeping chromosomes from unraveling, much like plastic tips at the ends of shoelaces.
A growing body of research suggests that short telomeres are linked to a range of health problems, including coronary heart disease and diabetes, as well as early death.
Am I glad to be back in SF and on a Thursday. I can't wait to get back to Sundance Saloon. If you've never spent a night two-stepping and line dancing, it's a complete workout. With fun. And a bar.
On my walk to work I pass by a psychiatric hospital. This morning I passed a woman in front wearing a trashy t-shirt reading "Don't piss off the voices in my head." If it weren't for the county-fair quality typeface, I might have taken it as an actual warning. And secretly hoped some nice men in white coats would appear to take her inside.
Today is my last day here in Nashville. Well, until the next time. It's been just shy of a three-week visit. Sundays are always fun in Nashville, church notwithstanding, but yesterday was just ridiculous.
Swan Ball was, as usual, a ball and I'll have all sorts of Nfocus inappropriate commentary here once I bang out my articles for them. It was a slow morning of recovery. Simon and the rest of the family appeared over here around 2:00 and despite the uncooperative nature of a tired three-year-old, Simon took some pretty amazing photos: all ten of together, then Mom and Dad, then Jay's family, skipping Mac's family as there was no more effort for Leland-wrangling, then just me. You know. Alone.
But damn if Simon does not take a great photo:
I would totally date me in this photo.
Simon's got a pretty sweet gig going. He's mobile office fits in a roller bag and camera case and he travels the world having a great time working. After taking a hundred or so shots, he was able to quickly download to the MacBook Pro and project our untouched proofs on the dining room wall. Using a sophisticated yet simple pro photo system, we were able to compare and select the best shots (very much like being at the optometrist: is is better like this or like this?). Within maybe half an hour (maybe 45 minutes), we had picked our favorite eight, made our personal selections, placed or orders, write the checks and were done. He will retouch the photos and print them in Australia and send them back to us next month. While he was strongly suggesting black and white prints (timeless, classic, beautiful), I ordered color prints of the family and the parents as they are just so lush. I can't wait for my prints.
Simon took his office back to the DeFrance's and backed up our files. I was cleaning up around here and preparing to meet Keith and his cousins at 6:00 for Showtunes at Tribe (always a good time). I asked Simon if he'd like to join us and he was game so I collected him on the way to town.
Now Keith has had a rough week following a breakup, and it did nothing to reduce his stress level to have dozens of members of his distant father's family descend for an impromptu family reunion. The silver lining to the family storm is his cousin Christin and her husband Dave. While not exactly urban sophisticates, they are great people, fun to be around, and cool enough to chill in a Nashville gay bar with us. Oh, and they're the drinkers in the family, so there's that.
So it was pleasant surprise that Keith could take time out of all of his family obligations to go for Sunday Showtunes and bring Christin and Dave with him. Cousin Barry and Carolyn Thombs (who brought Simon into my life at the one-degree Racers and Chasers party the first Friday of the trip) were invited to join us but have kids and volunteerism and responsibilities and shit and couldn't make it. Pfft.
So we sent them photos of us enjoying ourselves and the evening specials, a southern peach take on the Long Island Iced Tea.
Because we are loving in that way. Nanny nanny boo boo.
Then Keith got a message. Oh my Santa. Keith's father, step-mother, uncle, and his uncle's wife (Christin's parents) were going to come join us at the bar. Keith is pushing an exceptionally handsome 40. His father has never acknowledged that he's gay. Either doesn't know, or hasn't accepted it. And now he and his brother and their wives are coming over for showtunes at Nashville's hottest gay spot. It was unclear that they knew what they were getting into.
Oh my freaking Santa.
Keith's nerves cranked it up a notch or two for a moment, but he rapidly accepted the situation and stood up like a man. I think many others would have freaked, but Keith realized that he is the Man About Town, independent and successful and its about time his dad knew that.
And of course all of the A Gays immediately circled the wagons, bringing our good manners and pedigrees to the introductions. I was nervous for Keith for a little bit, but then got a little excited about the situation. I asked, "Is it wrong that I secretly hope that something really, really gay is playing when they get here. Tell me there's a new Broadway show with a musical clip about loving cock." Turns out Judy Garland singing "Clang Clang Clang Went the Trolley" from Meet Me in Saint Louis was playing upon their arrival. I thought that counted as really gay.
Now Keith's uncle and aunt are much more free spirited that his dad and step mom. Uncle Larry and Rene turned out to be a bit of a hoot and a holler (Larry is the hoot; Rene the holler). It took Larry a bit longer to clue in that they were in a gay bar, and poked Rene who looked around, back and forth, shrugged her shoulders said, "Well I guess it is" and continued her sentence where she left off.
I had already broken the ice with Aunt Rene. I could tell that she was a sassy one, and reveled in her role as the slightly-risque sassy southern woman. I imagine the women around her town clutch their chests when they talk about Rene, and talking about Rene is something they only do in whispers. When introducing Simon and telling the photography tales, I pulled up the headshot he took of me and had posted to Facebook. Rene took the phone and looked at the picture. "Wow. That is really, really handsome. It doesn't look at all like you!"
I replied slowly, "Youuuuu bitch."
She cackled and we were thick as thieves.
We took turns engaging Keith's dad. I took the lion's share as he used to be a property surveyor and my family used to own property and so we must have lots to talk about. No kidding. Follow that logic for a riveting conversation. Using old landmarks and Google Maps for about ten minutes we were able to find a lot he surveyed about a decade ago that was down the street from where he heard Al Gore was going to live, then. I kept trying to turn the conversation to how completely awesome Keith is, how much he means to me, to the community, how much my parents like him etc. Non-starters all. He now works for the airport in Pensacola. And if I ever land there I will be prepared as I now know everything about it.
The main event at Showtunes Sunday is the "Don't Cry for Me Argentia" bit followed by "Love Is in the Air." As Madonna takes to the balcony and the crowd retorts to her in the style of Rocky Horror Picture Show, barbacks distribute handfulls of cocktail napkins to the crowd. At the end of "Don't Cry for Me" when the Argentines go wild, the crowd throws their napkins into the air in time with the musical crescendos.
The process repeats during the chorus of "Love Is in the Air." (As seen last Christmas with Margaret McAllister:)
So here is our table getting in on the action—
Note Keith's dad in the back, checking his watch:
I don't know why but I think that's pretty funny.
Ultimately the music mix turned to an indecipherable theme of early 90s and just last week videos, and we said goodbye to the parents. It was only 9:00, but Keith suggested we stay for a not-to-be-missed drag performance. Thing was, the show didn't start until 11:00 and baby really needed a nap. I am surprised how fast those two hours passed before we were strolling into Play next door. And I am so glad we stayed.
.
We are super happy fun time.
During a break in the performances, the hostess invited all first-timers and birthdays up to the stage. Now while it was clearly not my first time, I urged Simon to take the stage, and he dragged me behind him for support. Oh my Santa that was funny. There was such a long line of folks to be interviewed we got thirsty again had to signal Keith to bring our drinks up to the stage. I first started taking photos with the iPhone to mobile upload and send to his wife in Australia, then switched to Simon's high-tech tiny camera. I LOVE these photos.
I am particularly happy that I could catch Simon striking such a pose:
During his interview, Simon answered that he was from Australia and I was from San Francisco.
We were asked how we met, but that is such a convoluted story we were at a loss for words and stared at each other blankly (which seems to be the same expression as "guilty"). Ultimately Simon said, "We met at his parents' house last week." I had no idea how dirty that sounded in that context. But the audience did.
When Simon gets around to posting his videos and photos, I'll have to figure out a way to get them here (he doesn't Flickr or SmugMug or anything, but I imagine they will end up on Facebook). He got some great shots of the revelry and the performers. Including the queen we came to see: the ancient toothless drag queen.
Friday night before the races I hosted a "Racers and Chasers" meet and greet, also known as the one-degree cocktail party to bring together my good Nashville friends, introduce Shilpa and Paul around, make connections between SF and Nashville and generally get everyone we'd see during the weekend together for drinks so we would all be old friends with Shilpa and Paul the next time met. The lovely and talented Carolyn Palmer Thombs brought along the lovely and talented Simon James, photographer extraordinaire in town from Australia for some shoots.
Simon turned out to be a delightful treat and fast friend and we have had both hoots and hollers all week. Mac was semi-responsible for a fundraiser at Travellers Rest last Friday and asked me if I could take photos. After a week of partying with Simon, I suggested they work out some sort of arrangement to see if Travellers Rest could engage Simon James for professional photos. Despite the rain, that all worked out lovely.
Simon James, the Master at Work
Simon has generously offered to schedule a portrait session of the Hardcastle clan, but scheduling ALL of us has turned out to be more troublesome than herding cats. Not only can we not find a time slot when we are all free (the kids are in exams so daytimes are tough), but finding a locate is also difficult as Nashville continues to experience sudden, unexpected and sever thunderstorms.
Then there is the problem of wardrobe. The khaki pants with blue/white shirt thing has been done to death, but it is classic and unifying for a formal portrait. Sister Emily suggested we all wear Christmas sweaters made by me. If I am making the costumes, I am going to need more time and a LOT of sequins. Or feathers. Likely both.
In my e-mail back to the fam, this was my suggestion for wardrobe:
This was Emily's response:
I call the purple one!!! Not to be difficult...but being difficult...I have my doubts about being in place ready to have a pix taken at 1:30. The baptism we are attending is in, yes, IN a river, on a farm in the middle of somewhere I've ever heard of. There are multiple children being baptized and pregnant mother's being blessed. And there is a picnic for the families, which we as godparents must attend, immediately following. It doesn't sound like an event where people are paying attention to the clock. So, God willing and the creek don't rise, literally, pray for no rain, we will be there closer to 2:00.
See? This is the "family planning" I am trying to manage just to get us in front of a world-famous photographer.
Lordy. Nashville has been busy this week and I finally edited over 850 photos from the Steeplechase weekend, cranked out three articles, and still haven't gotten to the videos yet.
And it didn't even occur to me to snap a photo for the blog at "brunch" today. Cousin Barry invited me along to her yoga class this morning (my arms are still shaking while I write this, see my idea of a yogi at right) and we were joined by Cousin Franny and her daughter Kathleen. Now Kathleen is a senior at Ole Miss, and I did not even register that's who she was. The last time I saw her she was an adolescent and I forgot that little kids tend to grow up.
We all went next door for a sushi lunch afterward and I got to know the grown up Kathleen II (not to be confused with Cousin Kathleen) a little better. She's awesome, and will be joining the cadre of Alert Readers here at I'm Just Sayin'.
Which means I need to get on the ball and get back to blogging.
This past week has been incredible. But now I have to clean out the water-logged basement, dry out my comics, and see if there is a market for any of them. Any comic-dealing advice is welcome.
Blog posting will resume when I get some free time to edit all the photos and get some of these stories down. Short version: it's been an absolutely amazing weekend. Flood recovery notwithstanding.
But the weather has been perfect, as has the company.
I'll probably start blogging again after Shilpa and Paul leave, although that's sure to be depressing so I'll need a recovery period to bring the funny. And I have Nfocus snark to get out quick.
A Nashville tradition. The first one was built by my mother's father, and the new one by my dad! I came ][ this close to getting the old neon sign from the original owner before it got hauled away, but that is another story...
The Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum (which is really an amazing archive of the history of all American music) has posted flood update information to their website. The collections, housed on the higher floors, were never in danger. The first floor, however, did fill with flood waters. They are cleaning best they can, but power is still out to the center block of downtown and to SoBro (South of Broadway). The substation/transformers/big electrical doo-dads for this section of downtown is still underwater and so not fixable yet.
They announce that they will open when power is restored, hopefully later in the week.
I do hope it opens in time for a visit with Shilpa and PeeDee.
From the NHL/Predators news blog Section 303,, by Patten Fuqua:
The Cumberland River crested at its highest level in over 80 years. Nashville had its highest rainfall totals since records began. People drowned. Billions of dollars in damage occurred. It is the single largest disaster to hit Middle Tennessee since the Civil War. And yet…no one knows about it.
Does it really matter? Eventually, it will…as I mentioned, there are billions of dollars in damage. It seems bizarre that no one seems to be aware that we just experienced what is quite possibly the costliest non-hurricane disaster in American history. The funds to rebuild will have to come from somewhere, which is why people need to know. It’s hard to believe that we will receive much relief if there isn’t a perception that we need it.
But let’s look at the other side of the coin for a moment. A large part of the reason that we are being ignored is because of who we are. Think about that for just a second. Did you hear about looting? Did you hear about crime sprees? No…you didn’t. You heard about people pulling their neighbors off of rooftops. You saw a group of people trying to move two horses to higher ground. No…we didn’t loot. Our biggest warning was, “Don’t play in the floodwater.” When you think about it…that speaks a lot for our city. A large portion of why we were being ignored was that we weren’t doing anything to draw attention to ourselves. We were handling it on our own.
We lost two members of Saint George's. Water overtook them and they found them yesterday behind Kroger and Publix. They were trying to get to the 8:45 service. It's awful.
. 
