Considering the length of the last post, I won't go on so much about my night with Chuck and Ginger. I'll go on, just not so much.
Ginger ("I woke up with all my jew'ry on") and Chuck ("I know I am pretty, motherfucker.") are two of my most favorite people in my life. The three of us get along like a house on fire. Ginger I've known most of my life, but we only got to be close around 1994. Chuck and I knew each other in high school, but weren't friends until I ran into him as a friend's date in a gay bar around 1996. Chuck was in Chicago when Ginger moved there (or was that the other way around?) and I arranged for them to get together. Before meeting, the only thing they knew they had in common was me (and Nashville). They went from zero to best friends in about five seconds. I love Ginger. I love Chuck. Chuck loves Ginger. Chuck loves me. Ginger loves me. Ginger loves Chuck. Big love fest here. And it is astounding that this Christmas was the first time we were all in the same city at the same time. Chuck has since moved back to San Diego. I see him in SF or SD. And Ginger is still based in Chicago but bought a lovely place in Nashville, and I see her there or in SF. As close as we all are, it amazes me it has taken us this long to all be in the same room.
And the earth trembled.
We had a freakin' BALL. Lordy, for the folks who know me- y'all should be very afraid. Chattiness and wacky adventure exponential.
We had drinks at Ginger's amazing new home before heading out to the new Cabana for dinner. We chatted about the house, her impeccable taste (with some furnishing assistance by the "magic attic"), local gossip, sadness of those we know who still feel the need to be in the closet, home ownership (Nashville vs. Chicago vs. SD vs. SF), etc. I mentioned that a friend in Nashville just closed on a condo and hopes to pay it off within a year. Ginger hoped she'd be able to pay off the fabric in a year. Of course, the furniture and the draperies are fabulous.
Cabana had some pretty amazing food, and a very cool design. I did not realize how drunk Ginger (and possibly Chuck) had gotten during dinner. We went through two (three?) bottles of wine at dinner. Which is more impressive when you consider I was just drinking vodka. While our original plan was to go Out after dinner, Ginger was adamant about taking a cab home. She was further gone than we thought, but we both know better than to argue with Ginger when she gets an idea in her head.
All in all, one of the most fun nights I've ever had. Absolutely stellar company. Highlights of the evening:
*Ginger getting a little miffed when I did not take the left at the next light as she instructed, which would have put us in the direction of the restaurant, but the route would have taken us over a curb and through the lobby of a nursing home to get there.
*SF and SD trying to chat with LA, who was too LA to deal with SF or SD in Nashville.
*Ending up at the Chute for open mic night and my bodily carrying Chuck on stage for a duet of Captain and Tenille's "Love Will Keep Us Together."
*While Chuck was still on his Blackberry speakerphone with a honey back home.
*Wilson making out with a fraternity brother (much younger) he met last year.
*Wilson only remembering making out with the fraternity brother because he had text messaged it to Kevin.
*Stopping at 4:00 A.M. for 24 cheese Krystals, four orders of fries, and four corn pups.
*And taking said Krystals to Ginger's house.
*Ginger calling Fran (my mother) to let her know Chuck and I would be crashing at her place (in the guest room with two new, incredibly comfortable queen-sized beds).
*Ginger: "Wilson will be home in the morning." Fran: "Honey, it is the morning."
-and my favorite line of the night/day-
*Chuck and I woke painfully the next day to the bright winter sun streaming in through the unadorned guest room windows. Chuck said, in his wonderfully deep southern drawl, "For all the money she spent on draperies, you think she coulda put some up in here."
*And of course, over breakfast juice and tale-telling, Ginger clucking at us to stop referring to her cleaning lady as "Rosario."
I'm afraid you had to be there. And I'm sure glad I was.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Monday, December 26, 2005
Oh 'Holy Crap' Night.
My Christmas vacation has been wonderful. Steeped in familial love, garnished with the best of friends, and marinated in vodka.
Christmas Eve (our big family deal) was wonderful, and Christmas morning pretty magical. I even got a full-body-tremor of excitement out of my niece Ellen with her gift. It's fun to give gifts which were not on their lists, and really special when they are visibly excited at the surprise. For Ellen, age 9, I gave a gift certificate for two pedicures-for her and a friend- at the Venetian "First Class Spa." (Two comments: Pedicures because manicured colors are not allowed in school. And while the Venecian may be the most popular nail spot in Green Hills, it looks like an over-accented sweatshop and they could learn a great deal from the ubiquitous nail spots in SF. Not to mention I pay $25 for a spa mani/pedi across the street. Venetian pedis alone are $30 each.) I also gave her GCs to the Maggie Moo's next door.
I love that Ellen is in that pre-teen period where she can play the young lady and the little girl. She has grown-up attitudes for many things, but still loves her stuffed animals and play time. And she still thinks her uncles are cool.
Which of course, we are.
Bradley's gift was not met with as much enthusiasm, as even though I had cleared this with the parents weeks prior, they forgot and got him the same thing. So he arrived at Sheppard Place wearing a Red Sox hat similar to what lay wrapped under the three. (The version I ordered was, of course, the cooler one. Thanks to my Boston connection RMJ.)
So Christmas Day was magical. Christmas Night was hysterical.
After Christmas breakfast and the stockings and presents under the tree, eventually Jay & Steff and the kids went home to Sneed Road to play with other kids, and Mac and Emily left to rest up before the big Christmas dinner with her side of the family.
So for the bulk of Christmas Day, in the afternoon and evening, I was the only child left at Sheppard Place. I enjoyed chilling in front of the fire with Mom and Dad, playing with the new toys, and spent most of the day helping mom clean up from the morning and our big dinner the night before.
However, Christmas Night has always been a Big Night Out for the southern homo. I am extremely fortunate that I enjoy time with my family. I know many people, and many more gay people, who find time with their families over the holidays to be more about quantity than quality. And sometimes the quantity is measured in fluid ounces.
As Buffy once said to Willow, "I think that much quality time with my mother would lead to some quality matricide." On the nights of Thanksgiving and Christmas the gay bars are to capacity.
I received several calls from friends to meet me at Tribe. I texted back saying I was on my way, but with the empty nest pangs of the day it was difficult to extricate my self from my mother. And then neighbors stopped by to visit, blocking me both bodily and vehicularly. Finally en route to Tribe I was a good 30 to 40 minutes behind. I got calls from Chuck (in from San Diego), Brad (in from SF), Jason (in from SF), Keith (local) and Scott (local), looking for me. All of them were hanging out in a crowded bar drinking alone(ish), and it occurred to me that all of these guys were sitting next to each other in a bar waiting for me but none of them knew each other.
Brad kills me sometimes. He is perhaps one of the sexiest men on the planet, with an easy confidence I can only marvel at and envy. I believe he fears nothing... except apparently being alone in a bar or a room full of people he doesn't know. Funny that. However, Brad being Brad, I would not expect him to be alone for long.
I arrived to a warm welcome with many more friendly familiar faces than I expected and felt oddly like a homecoming king. Added bonus: I got to spend a little time with great guy and club proprietor David. I was on the same flight out from OAK with his sister, bother-in-law, and their two kids. David had been in Mississippi with his partner Michael to visit his family, but had beat feet back to the preferable Nashvegas. (We are grading on a curve.)
The excellent Christmas Day continued. Brad had been approached by several men, whose attentions he graciously declined. One man bought Brad a beer by way of introduction, and was fairly attentive but Brad extricated himself kindly as he was "waiting for a friend." The gentleman went back to his buddies at the bar and commented, "Does anyone know if Wilson is in town? Let's call him." Brad had to ask, "Excuse me, do you mean Wilson Hardcastle?" And that's not the amusing part.
The gentleman in question was Scott, and when they told me this when I got there I couldn't help but laugh out loud. THAT WAS HOW I MET BRAD IN THE FIRST PLACE. Scott had tried to pick up Brad years ago in a slightly seedy gay bar on Franklin Road. Later that night, Scott introduced me to Brad (who had driven in to town to drink, be in a gay bar, and escape his crazy family out in the boonies) as Brad also lived in SF. So perhaps we'll just do this again every couple of years.
The entire night was a blast. But there is one shining moment which stands out-one of those laughing-so-hard-you-can't-breathe-and-have-to-hold-to-something moments. San Francisco, meet Nashville. Nashville, San Francisco. You may now butt heads.
Unfortunately, many of you reading this are not Nashvillian or particularly southern and so the confusion and humor may be lost on you. The standard drunk food in Nashville is Krystal's. In SF and NYC, you get a slice. In Nashville, you drive through Krystal's. Everyone does. When I came in at 4:00 A.M. from the Swan Ball with a bag of Krystals (after dropping off my drunken date at her home), my parents (also home from the ball) were in the kitchen eating Krystals. For those of you unfamiliar, think little square burgers a la White Castle. But that really doesn't do it justice. Nor justice to the corn pub, chili corn pup, and other artery-hardening greasy treats. When one has a Krystal, it seems like it was the best idea in the world. When you are finished, you are less convinced. The next day, your digestive system and exit tract have quite the contrary to offer on the matter. We do not phrase this condition as such. But I shall not invoke such base language as this is a family blog. Well, a whoring, alcoholic family blog. We have families too.
I have never known someone to eat a Krystal sober.
They are also open 24 hours. (My brother Mac once learned that the 24 hours are not necessarily in a row. But that is another story.)
The night went on. Fun, and cocktails, were had by all. As it was Christmas night, Tribe was closing early, and there was discussion about the next plan. Keith, unlike the rest of us, had not had a large Christmas dinner was not pleasantly stuffed as the turkey of the day. Keith was pushing a food agenda—preferably late night appetizers at Sunset Grill. The rest of us wanted to continue a little more festively, and overall we decided to head to the Chute (coincidentally the aforementioned slightly seedy gay bar). The Chute is, in fact, slightly seedy, but it is also the second nicest gay bar in Nashville. There are dozens of gay bars in Nashville, but only Tribe is quite nice (long time SF'ers can think of the AP). So with only one great, second best can be pretty far down the curve. I'm just sayin'.
After disjointed discussion, the Chute emerged as the new destination, so Keith decided he would rush ahead so he could stop for some food before joining us at the next bar. Brad asked, "What are we doing?"
"We're headed to the Chute."
"Where did Keith go?"
"He's going on a Krystal run and he'll meet us there."
"Oh man, that was the best sex I ever had."
uh, excuse me?!
I had to process for a moment. Unsuccessfully I might add. Once in high school, on a dare Gantt Bumstead walked into a Krystal bathroom, removed all of this clothes, and walked out. So nudity and Krystal are not to my mind entirely mutually exclusive.
"uh, What?"
"I mean, I'll never do it again but man, that was the most intense orgasm I ever had."
"Okay... I'm still on 'What?!' Did you like get sucked off in the bathroom or something?"
"Huh? Sex on crystal was just intense...but I am not into that really."
The light bulb of comprehension went on and I lost it.
In Nashville, a Krystral run means four tiny cheese burgers and fries for about $3. A "crystal run" in SF means finding a dealer before you dance shirtless and high in a club all night. Krystal Burgers ≠ crystal meth.
I was laughing so uncontrollably it took me several minutes to regain my breath before I could explain that the only high Keith was getting was going to be to his cholesterol level.
[Update: I went to the Krystal website to grab some images. They now offer WiFi. That scares me.]
Christmas Eve (our big family deal) was wonderful, and Christmas morning pretty magical. I even got a full-body-tremor of excitement out of my niece Ellen with her gift. It's fun to give gifts which were not on their lists, and really special when they are visibly excited at the surprise. For Ellen, age 9, I gave a gift certificate for two pedicures-for her and a friend- at the Venetian "First Class Spa." (Two comments: Pedicures because manicured colors are not allowed in school. And while the Venecian may be the most popular nail spot in Green Hills, it looks like an over-accented sweatshop and they could learn a great deal from the ubiquitous nail spots in SF. Not to mention I pay $25 for a spa mani/pedi across the street. Venetian pedis alone are $30 each.) I also gave her GCs to the Maggie Moo's next door.
I love that Ellen is in that pre-teen period where she can play the young lady and the little girl. She has grown-up attitudes for many things, but still loves her stuffed animals and play time. And she still thinks her uncles are cool.
Which of course, we are.
Bradley's gift was not met with as much enthusiasm, as even though I had cleared this with the parents weeks prior, they forgot and got him the same thing. So he arrived at Sheppard Place wearing a Red Sox hat similar to what lay wrapped under the three. (The version I ordered was, of course, the cooler one. Thanks to my Boston connection RMJ.)
So Christmas Day was magical. Christmas Night was hysterical.
After Christmas breakfast and the stockings and presents under the tree, eventually Jay & Steff and the kids went home to Sneed Road to play with other kids, and Mac and Emily left to rest up before the big Christmas dinner with her side of the family.
So for the bulk of Christmas Day, in the afternoon and evening, I was the only child left at Sheppard Place. I enjoyed chilling in front of the fire with Mom and Dad, playing with the new toys, and spent most of the day helping mom clean up from the morning and our big dinner the night before.
However, Christmas Night has always been a Big Night Out for the southern homo. I am extremely fortunate that I enjoy time with my family. I know many people, and many more gay people, who find time with their families over the holidays to be more about quantity than quality. And sometimes the quantity is measured in fluid ounces.
As Buffy once said to Willow, "I think that much quality time with my mother would lead to some quality matricide." On the nights of Thanksgiving and Christmas the gay bars are to capacity.
I received several calls from friends to meet me at Tribe. I texted back saying I was on my way, but with the empty nest pangs of the day it was difficult to extricate my self from my mother. And then neighbors stopped by to visit, blocking me both bodily and vehicularly. Finally en route to Tribe I was a good 30 to 40 minutes behind. I got calls from Chuck (in from San Diego), Brad (in from SF), Jason (in from SF), Keith (local) and Scott (local), looking for me. All of them were hanging out in a crowded bar drinking alone(ish), and it occurred to me that all of these guys were sitting next to each other in a bar waiting for me but none of them knew each other.
Brad kills me sometimes. He is perhaps one of the sexiest men on the planet, with an easy confidence I can only marvel at and envy. I believe he fears nothing... except apparently being alone in a bar or a room full of people he doesn't know. Funny that. However, Brad being Brad, I would not expect him to be alone for long.
I arrived to a warm welcome with many more friendly familiar faces than I expected and felt oddly like a homecoming king. Added bonus: I got to spend a little time with great guy and club proprietor David. I was on the same flight out from OAK with his sister, bother-in-law, and their two kids. David had been in Mississippi with his partner Michael to visit his family, but had beat feet back to the preferable Nashvegas. (We are grading on a curve.)
The excellent Christmas Day continued. Brad had been approached by several men, whose attentions he graciously declined. One man bought Brad a beer by way of introduction, and was fairly attentive but Brad extricated himself kindly as he was "waiting for a friend." The gentleman went back to his buddies at the bar and commented, "Does anyone know if Wilson is in town? Let's call him." Brad had to ask, "Excuse me, do you mean Wilson Hardcastle?" And that's not the amusing part.
The gentleman in question was Scott, and when they told me this when I got there I couldn't help but laugh out loud. THAT WAS HOW I MET BRAD IN THE FIRST PLACE. Scott had tried to pick up Brad years ago in a slightly seedy gay bar on Franklin Road. Later that night, Scott introduced me to Brad (who had driven in to town to drink, be in a gay bar, and escape his crazy family out in the boonies) as Brad also lived in SF. So perhaps we'll just do this again every couple of years.
The entire night was a blast. But there is one shining moment which stands out-one of those laughing-so-hard-you-can't-breathe-and-have-to-hold-to-something moments. San Francisco, meet Nashville. Nashville, San Francisco. You may now butt heads.
Unfortunately, many of you reading this are not Nashvillian or particularly southern and so the confusion and humor may be lost on you. The standard drunk food in Nashville is Krystal's. In SF and NYC, you get a slice. In Nashville, you drive through Krystal's. Everyone does. When I came in at 4:00 A.M. from the Swan Ball with a bag of Krystals (after dropping off my drunken date at her home), my parents (also home from the ball) were in the kitchen eating Krystals. For those of you unfamiliar, think little square burgers a la White Castle. But that really doesn't do it justice. Nor justice to the corn pub, chili corn pup, and other artery-hardening greasy treats. When one has a Krystal, it seems like it was the best idea in the world. When you are finished, you are less convinced. The next day, your digestive system and exit tract have quite the contrary to offer on the matter. We do not phrase this condition as such. But I shall not invoke such base language as this is a family blog. Well, a whoring, alcoholic family blog. We have families too.I have never known someone to eat a Krystal sober.
They are also open 24 hours. (My brother Mac once learned that the 24 hours are not necessarily in a row. But that is another story.)
The night went on. Fun, and cocktails, were had by all. As it was Christmas night, Tribe was closing early, and there was discussion about the next plan. Keith, unlike the rest of us, had not had a large Christmas dinner was not pleasantly stuffed as the turkey of the day. Keith was pushing a food agenda—preferably late night appetizers at Sunset Grill. The rest of us wanted to continue a little more festively, and overall we decided to head to the Chute (coincidentally the aforementioned slightly seedy gay bar). The Chute is, in fact, slightly seedy, but it is also the second nicest gay bar in Nashville. There are dozens of gay bars in Nashville, but only Tribe is quite nice (long time SF'ers can think of the AP). So with only one great, second best can be pretty far down the curve. I'm just sayin'.
After disjointed discussion, the Chute emerged as the new destination, so Keith decided he would rush ahead so he could stop for some food before joining us at the next bar. Brad asked, "What are we doing?"
"We're headed to the Chute."
"Where did Keith go?"
"He's going on a Krystal run and he'll meet us there."
"Oh man, that was the best sex I ever had."
uh, excuse me?!
I had to process for a moment. Unsuccessfully I might add. Once in high school, on a dare Gantt Bumstead walked into a Krystal bathroom, removed all of this clothes, and walked out. So nudity and Krystal are not to my mind entirely mutually exclusive.
"uh, What?"
"I mean, I'll never do it again but man, that was the most intense orgasm I ever had."
"Okay... I'm still on 'What?!' Did you like get sucked off in the bathroom or something?"
"Huh? Sex on crystal was just intense...but I am not into that really."
The light bulb of comprehension went on and I lost it.
In Nashville, a Krystral run means four tiny cheese burgers and fries for about $3. A "crystal run" in SF means finding a dealer before you dance shirtless and high in a club all night. Krystal Burgers ≠ crystal meth.
I was laughing so uncontrollably it took me several minutes to regain my breath before I could explain that the only high Keith was getting was going to be to his cholesterol level.
[Update: I went to the Krystal website to grab some images. They now offer WiFi. That scares me.]
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies
Several months ago, EJ asked if I would be her date to a small birthday party the Friday before Christmas. Clearly, that far in advance I had not made other plans, and any reason to party with EJ is a good one. (President of the EJ fan club here.)
As it turns out, it's a big black-tie wedding reception at the BMCC for Lauren Hagen who got married in Spain. That was a detail that would have been good to have before I was picked up for the party. I don't generally travel with a tuxedo. But I faked it acceptably. Everyone just sort of blames "California" when I dress strangely now.
I will say, I do love my new brown velvet blazer. Very versatile (like me, ahem). It made a nice west coast fashion ensemble with the tux shirt (I keep a few in every port). Who knew I would get a chance to dance with Pat Patrick. Ever since Mac had encouraged Paige to sing with the PPB on other occasions, she has started singing with them professionally. Paige (who was in my class in high school and married Mac's best friend Bill) gave up her singer/songwriter career for family and motherhood now is back shining behind a microphone. Set of pipes on her. I am always grateful for an opportunity to hear her sing. She sang "Oh Holy Night" at a friend's Christmas wedding so many years ago and the memory still gives me a chill.
Wilson Hardcastle and Elizabeth James
Of course, I didn't know she was a formal part of the entertainment as she and Bill were also invited guests. She was a bit embarrassed that people would think she just wanted to sing and wouldn't get off the stage.
We had a fabulous time drinking and dancing at the club and I got to visit with a lot of old friends I would not have had the chance to see.
Mac Hardcastle and EJ
EJ, ever the trooper, joined me and Keith afterwards for drinks and dancing at Tribe and then Play. MUCH fun. I remember I had tales to tell about that night, but I only remember that I remember I had tales, not the tales themselves. Alas.
But still, love that EJ.
As it turns out, it's a big black-tie wedding reception at the BMCC for Lauren Hagen who got married in Spain. That was a detail that would have been good to have before I was picked up for the party. I don't generally travel with a tuxedo. But I faked it acceptably. Everyone just sort of blames "California" when I dress strangely now.
I will say, I do love my new brown velvet blazer. Very versatile (like me, ahem). It made a nice west coast fashion ensemble with the tux shirt (I keep a few in every port). Who knew I would get a chance to dance with Pat Patrick. Ever since Mac had encouraged Paige to sing with the PPB on other occasions, she has started singing with them professionally. Paige (who was in my class in high school and married Mac's best friend Bill) gave up her singer/songwriter career for family and motherhood now is back shining behind a microphone. Set of pipes on her. I am always grateful for an opportunity to hear her sing. She sang "Oh Holy Night" at a friend's Christmas wedding so many years ago and the memory still gives me a chill.
Of course, I didn't know she was a formal part of the entertainment as she and Bill were also invited guests. She was a bit embarrassed that people would think she just wanted to sing and wouldn't get off the stage.
We had a fabulous time drinking and dancing at the club and I got to visit with a lot of old friends I would not have had the chance to see.
EJ, ever the trooper, joined me and Keith afterwards for drinks and dancing at Tribe and then Play. MUCH fun. I remember I had tales to tell about that night, but I only remember that I remember I had tales, not the tales themselves. Alas.
But still, love that EJ.
Friday, December 23, 2005
Frosty the Ho Man
I arrived in Nashville the Wednesday night before Christmas, and hosted a holiday party with Mac and Emily at their place Thursday night. I had mostly gotten over the crappy cold, but my ears had yet to unpop and it was driving me crazy.
One of Emily's presents to Mac was a wireless Sonus sound system. I got to their house an hour or so early, and clearly Mac (who was sleeping) nor Emily inherited the "how to throw a party" gene Mom and I have. There was much kitchen wrestling and preparation beforehand, which was of course after I had to wire their downstairs speaker system and install the Sonus servers. All told a cool product though-- I was able to use my iPod as a sound source to the unit downstairs, recognize it on the computer/server upstairs, and stream it throughout the house.
This party was originally planned as five or six close friends together for drinks and games, but expanded to much larger affair. I'm glad it did as we had a fab spread, lots of food and plenty of fun. And a nice mix of people-- new and lifelong friends, young and old, straight and gay. House full of love and laughter.
Some pics:
Bradley and Uncle Mac
Margaret McAllister, Ginger Hale, Susannah Brown Scott-Barnes
Wilson Hardcastle and Helena Lamb
Van Pond, david Glasgow, Jon Glassmeyer, Cynthia Warner
Sandy Nelson, Fran Hardcastle, and Paul Bond
Josephine calls for more wine for Papa John.
Ginger and Suzanne talk with air quotes.
Van, Wilson, and David
And while we are mostly pretty...
Eventually all of Mac's parties can get ugly.
One of Emily's presents to Mac was a wireless Sonus sound system. I got to their house an hour or so early, and clearly Mac (who was sleeping) nor Emily inherited the "how to throw a party" gene Mom and I have. There was much kitchen wrestling and preparation beforehand, which was of course after I had to wire their downstairs speaker system and install the Sonus servers. All told a cool product though-- I was able to use my iPod as a sound source to the unit downstairs, recognize it on the computer/server upstairs, and stream it throughout the house.
This party was originally planned as five or six close friends together for drinks and games, but expanded to much larger affair. I'm glad it did as we had a fab spread, lots of food and plenty of fun. And a nice mix of people-- new and lifelong friends, young and old, straight and gay. House full of love and laughter.
Some pics:
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
* Sparkled *
The problem with journalling, I've found over the years, is the difficulty in starting up again after a break. There have been some great things to write about, but keep thinking that I should write about the older stuff before I write about the current stuff. And as such nothing has been written.
So for those who have been asking, here's the recent what.
Starting way back with Sparkle. December 10. (I am backdating these posts so they appear in the proper order. I am writing this on January 16, MLK day, while having coffee with a working Javits at Jumpin' Java.)
Kevin's place looked amazing. I only took a couple of photos, and none really do it justice (without the flash, too dark; with the flash, too stark). Upstairs, with the usual expectation of fabulous and sparkle, was an amazing spread catered by none other than Kevin (and really, wow), and a champagne fountain with the signature drink for upstairs: the Vodka Vixen.
Outside the house, Kevin really outdid himself this year. While I had ordered some magnetic LED flashers (see here) for my cuff links and to adorn select guests (it's always nice to have an excuse to touch someone). Kevin, however, covered the exterior of his house in these, and and could be seen for miles. There is a short movie clip of this here. Around the eaves, and up the stairs, Kevin had built suspension posts from which hung crystal beaded curtains, and four or five chandeliers he had found on eBay. The chandeliers had blue LED rods as candles, and were attached to rotating motors. The amount of effort and detail throughout the house was very Disney. We done good.
The main bar was downstairs as was the chill room. Unfortunately, photos don't capture the sparkle or the majesty of these rooms--or the lighting which worked out quite, quite well. Even the bar glasses sparkled. The mail wall I covered in black fabric with greenery along the ceiling. Suspended against the black field were a variety of silver or mirrored ornaments, maybe 40 of these, which reflected the colors from the christmas-tree lights below and behind the new Italian couch. Kevin had silvered eucalyptus branches for the corners. Overall a very nice effect. With of course all sorts of sparkle adornments, mirrored branch arrangements, flashing coasters, and more. The deep wall was blanketed in silver tinsel and underlit by blue and white lights. I was going for combination of Liberache and class. I felt I succeeded when I overhead a guest say, "I feel like I am in the VIP room of a club I'm not cool enough to get into."
The downstairs bar (seen here) had its own signature drink, the Wholesome Whore (aka Wholesome Hooker, but I like the repetition of the WH). Something that tastes very wholesome and innocent, but will have you whoring later-- vanilla vodka, coca cola, and a little peppermint schnaps. Also tastes very seasonal.
I was also responsible for lighting/dressing the newly completed downstairs bath. Which, if I do continue to say so myself, looked fabulous. I feel very gay in thanking my mother for teaching me at an early age the importance of good lighting. This is also where I decided to place Kevin's Christmas present.
I had told him before the party started that I left his gift for him in the downstairs bath, but it slipped his mind, and only around ten o'clock did I hear a stomp and a scream, "Where's Wilson!?"
On the vanity, there now sits a five by seven framed print of Kevin being Kevin:
He has an extensive collection of me "licking things." Drinks, people, trees, national monuments, anonymous passers-by, etc. Payback is fair play.
Update: the little LED flashers were sill going four days later. Impressive.
So for those who have been asking, here's the recent what.
Starting way back with Sparkle. December 10. (I am backdating these posts so they appear in the proper order. I am writing this on January 16, MLK day, while having coffee with a working Javits at Jumpin' Java.)
Kevin's place looked amazing. I only took a couple of photos, and none really do it justice (without the flash, too dark; with the flash, too stark). Upstairs, with the usual expectation of fabulous and sparkle, was an amazing spread catered by none other than Kevin (and really, wow), and a champagne fountain with the signature drink for upstairs: the Vodka Vixen.
Outside the house, Kevin really outdid himself this year. While I had ordered some magnetic LED flashers (see here) for my cuff links and to adorn select guests (it's always nice to have an excuse to touch someone). Kevin, however, covered the exterior of his house in these, and and could be seen for miles. There is a short movie clip of this here. Around the eaves, and up the stairs, Kevin had built suspension posts from which hung crystal beaded curtains, and four or five chandeliers he had found on eBay. The chandeliers had blue LED rods as candles, and were attached to rotating motors. The amount of effort and detail throughout the house was very Disney. We done good.
The main bar was downstairs as was the chill room. Unfortunately, photos don't capture the sparkle or the majesty of these rooms--or the lighting which worked out quite, quite well. Even the bar glasses sparkled. The mail wall I covered in black fabric with greenery along the ceiling. Suspended against the black field were a variety of silver or mirrored ornaments, maybe 40 of these, which reflected the colors from the christmas-tree lights below and behind the new Italian couch. Kevin had silvered eucalyptus branches for the corners. Overall a very nice effect. With of course all sorts of sparkle adornments, mirrored branch arrangements, flashing coasters, and more. The deep wall was blanketed in silver tinsel and underlit by blue and white lights. I was going for combination of Liberache and class. I felt I succeeded when I overhead a guest say, "I feel like I am in the VIP room of a club I'm not cool enough to get into."The downstairs bar (seen here) had its own signature drink, the Wholesome Whore (aka Wholesome Hooker, but I like the repetition of the WH). Something that tastes very wholesome and innocent, but will have you whoring later-- vanilla vodka, coca cola, and a little peppermint schnaps. Also tastes very seasonal.
I was also responsible for lighting/dressing the newly completed downstairs bath. Which, if I do continue to say so myself, looked fabulous. I feel very gay in thanking my mother for teaching me at an early age the importance of good lighting. This is also where I decided to place Kevin's Christmas present.
I had told him before the party started that I left his gift for him in the downstairs bath, but it slipped his mind, and only around ten o'clock did I hear a stomp and a scream, "Where's Wilson!?"
On the vanity, there now sits a five by seven framed print of Kevin being Kevin:
He has an extensive collection of me "licking things." Drinks, people, trees, national monuments, anonymous passers-by, etc. Payback is fair play.
Update: the little LED flashers were sill going four days later. Impressive.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Boxcar Willie.
Okay, quick backplot on Boxcar because I know this will be coming up again.
Here's an excerpt from my e-mail to James of how we met:
Flashback a couple of months to the first Out with A.C.T. event for the performance of “The Overcoat.” During intermission and in the drunken aftermess, I met Boxcar. Boxcar moved to San Francisco from Seattle in the past year or so and is some sort of architectural big shot for Starbucks. Slightly older, barrel-chested, furry, and nice if not a little shy (grading on a curve here, I was with Kevin). I think I gave him my card. As I am want to do as I made them to be conversation pieces. Kevin and I then proceeded to drink lots of free wine, go out on the town, and get laid.
I saw Boxcar again at Folsom, where we made out and basically fondled each other on the street. He called me the night of the next Out with A.C.T. to find out if we would see each other later that night. Which we did. And we flirted a bit casually but nothing particular. Again, Kevin and I played hearty in the Castro. That’s the night I ended up with the 20-something power bottom and did the walk of shame the next day.
So, a few weeks ago, Kevin and I were talking about Boxcar while we were cleaning out the apartment of his recently deceased brother. I called Boxcar and left a message, and then we played phone tag for about 10 days. I tell you all this in the way of backplot for last Wednesday.
I talked to Boxcar before my meeting to touch base and see if he would be around for the weekend and what he might be interested in doing. He was driving up to Calistoga with his mother to his brother’s place on Thanksgiving morning, but was eager for a happy hour that night. RMJ, Barney and I had plans to meet at the Bar on Castro (T-BOC) six-ish and I invited him to join us.
As usual I was late but called RMJ and Boxcar to let them know. Boxcar had not yet met Barney or RMJ. Boxcar started drinking 5/6ish and was with co-workers at the Edge. When I got to the BOC, it was nearly empty, and certainly void of RMJ or Barney. I went out to the sidewalk to get cell service and call RMJ (Barney has no mobile). Boxcar walked up and kissed me hello. This was not so much an "hello" kiss, but the sort of kiss that makes ears flush and chills run down my sides. More like a "should we just forget the drinks and go fuck now because clearly that’s where this is headed." We went to the Midnight Sun/Midnight Slum b/c it is his favorite bar (I didn’t know anyone went there anymore). With my first drink there was lots of flattery from Boxcar and many efforts at "subtle molesting" (his words). RMJ and Barney appeared for a drink, and in time to witness Boxcar basically taking off my shirt (revealing the oh-so-chic v-neck t-shirt underneath). Then there was the making out. Keep in mind I had had one drink and just started my second. I had never been happier to be in the Midnight Slum because I didn’t know anyone in there. RMJ and Barn thought this was hilarious and made a their exit. Boxcar and I went to his place.
It was a warm, clear night and he has floor-to-ceiling views of the Castro and the City. I was amused being both the object of affection and at times aggressor. We had sex on the balcony which was v. cool, and made him nervous of watchful neighbors. We took the game inside and played around some more. And then took the game to the bedroom (aside, largest bed I've ever seen. About the size of my apartment. And comfy.). I remember laughing to myself at the fact I had been out for drink(s), hooked up, had sex, and was going to bed, and it was just about 8:00. On the plus side, Boxcar is extremely comfortable to sleep with, a hot cuddler, and a hot playmate. But I was also detached enough to be taking it slow and not making more of it than it necessarily was.
The morning after was not awkward, but comfortable. Except that he is a morning person and I am so not. After a light breakfast, I left him to finish cooking his soup and preparing to take his mom to Calistoga. I went home and went back to sleep before going to Jeff and Bill's for Thanksgiving dinner.
Flash forward.
Boxcar joined me, Kevin, RMJ, Barney, and Douglas for Rent the Friday after Thanksgiving. A fun night, and revealing. Boxcar revealed in the car that his partner of 14 years had died of AIDS, about 20 months ago. Okay, that is two pieces of information which would have been handy to have.
We went to Pilsner later, but Boxcar was ready to go to bed soon. Even though he is only 42 (or was it 45), he refers to us as "the youngin's," "the kids" or "the boys." I offered to drive him home, and then I came inside, and of course we fooled around. I tried to start the HIV status conversation several times but it never got anywhere. Afterwards I took a shower and as he was getting ready for sleep and as it was still quite early, I left and met the boys again at the Powerhouse. I will say it did loads (no pun intended) for my self-esteem to arrive as a rockstar. Sex and a shower and back out again. (For a basic prude like me, that's something.)
The next week or two later, I was invited to see Autie Mame at the Castro theater (Wednesday 12/14) with a work friend and his husband. Such an opportunity is not to be missed. I invited Boxcar to go with us, and as in Rent, he was all over me during the movie.
I will at this point say he does know how to push my buttons. Woof. But c'mon, there are times that it gets to be inappropriate. (I fear the anonymous reader may find that ironic or hard to believe.) However, earlier in the week I had cut my cheek on a chip which resulted in a huge canker sore. Suspicious of his HIV status, I had no intentions of unsafe play later. I explained to him (and this was a weeknight after all) that I was enjoying his company I wasn't planning to come upstairs. He didn't really take no for an answer and was quite... persuasive in the car (who knew in my tiny Saturn two full-sized people can fit in the front seat?)
I finally had to tell him why I didn't want to fool around and forced the whole HIV status conversation. I'm negative and he's positive. I made it clear that I was still perfectly happy dating him and sleeping together, but I am also very careful and very safe and that there will be times that I cannot do things.
He did not take that well. He made it clear that he wasn't interested in dating me at all and just likes having lots of sex. That stance was later softened to not wanting to date anyone and not just me in particular, which as a widower I totally get. But he made it clear he is not interested in a boyfriend, just screwing around, and sort of stormed off and never looked back. The entire experience threw me for a loop and I met Kevin, Rey, and Lance at Martuni's for a debrief and consolation.
Awkward as that was, I had already invited him to be my date to a party last night (12/16). Long story with a short ending: Everything seems to be fine. No hard feelings. He is still charming and amiable and fits in nicely with the crowd. He will be a good friend to have around, and his continued flirting with me does, after all, make me feel pretty.
Here's an excerpt from my e-mail to James of how we met:
Flashback a couple of months to the first Out with A.C.T. event for the performance of “The Overcoat.” During intermission and in the drunken aftermess, I met Boxcar. Boxcar moved to San Francisco from Seattle in the past year or so and is some sort of architectural big shot for Starbucks. Slightly older, barrel-chested, furry, and nice if not a little shy (grading on a curve here, I was with Kevin). I think I gave him my card. As I am want to do as I made them to be conversation pieces. Kevin and I then proceeded to drink lots of free wine, go out on the town, and get laid.
I saw Boxcar again at Folsom, where we made out and basically fondled each other on the street. He called me the night of the next Out with A.C.T. to find out if we would see each other later that night. Which we did. And we flirted a bit casually but nothing particular. Again, Kevin and I played hearty in the Castro. That’s the night I ended up with the 20-something power bottom and did the walk of shame the next day.
So, a few weeks ago, Kevin and I were talking about Boxcar while we were cleaning out the apartment of his recently deceased brother. I called Boxcar and left a message, and then we played phone tag for about 10 days. I tell you all this in the way of backplot for last Wednesday.
I talked to Boxcar before my meeting to touch base and see if he would be around for the weekend and what he might be interested in doing. He was driving up to Calistoga with his mother to his brother’s place on Thanksgiving morning, but was eager for a happy hour that night. RMJ, Barney and I had plans to meet at the Bar on Castro (T-BOC) six-ish and I invited him to join us.
As usual I was late but called RMJ and Boxcar to let them know. Boxcar had not yet met Barney or RMJ. Boxcar started drinking 5/6ish and was with co-workers at the Edge. When I got to the BOC, it was nearly empty, and certainly void of RMJ or Barney. I went out to the sidewalk to get cell service and call RMJ (Barney has no mobile). Boxcar walked up and kissed me hello. This was not so much an "hello" kiss, but the sort of kiss that makes ears flush and chills run down my sides. More like a "should we just forget the drinks and go fuck now because clearly that’s where this is headed." We went to the Midnight Sun/Midnight Slum b/c it is his favorite bar (I didn’t know anyone went there anymore). With my first drink there was lots of flattery from Boxcar and many efforts at "subtle molesting" (his words). RMJ and Barney appeared for a drink, and in time to witness Boxcar basically taking off my shirt (revealing the oh-so-chic v-neck t-shirt underneath). Then there was the making out. Keep in mind I had had one drink and just started my second. I had never been happier to be in the Midnight Slum because I didn’t know anyone in there. RMJ and Barn thought this was hilarious and made a their exit. Boxcar and I went to his place.
It was a warm, clear night and he has floor-to-ceiling views of the Castro and the City. I was amused being both the object of affection and at times aggressor. We had sex on the balcony which was v. cool, and made him nervous of watchful neighbors. We took the game inside and played around some more. And then took the game to the bedroom (aside, largest bed I've ever seen. About the size of my apartment. And comfy.). I remember laughing to myself at the fact I had been out for drink(s), hooked up, had sex, and was going to bed, and it was just about 8:00. On the plus side, Boxcar is extremely comfortable to sleep with, a hot cuddler, and a hot playmate. But I was also detached enough to be taking it slow and not making more of it than it necessarily was.
The morning after was not awkward, but comfortable. Except that he is a morning person and I am so not. After a light breakfast, I left him to finish cooking his soup and preparing to take his mom to Calistoga. I went home and went back to sleep before going to Jeff and Bill's for Thanksgiving dinner.
Flash forward.
Boxcar joined me, Kevin, RMJ, Barney, and Douglas for Rent the Friday after Thanksgiving. A fun night, and revealing. Boxcar revealed in the car that his partner of 14 years had died of AIDS, about 20 months ago. Okay, that is two pieces of information which would have been handy to have.
We went to Pilsner later, but Boxcar was ready to go to bed soon. Even though he is only 42 (or was it 45), he refers to us as "the youngin's," "the kids" or "the boys." I offered to drive him home, and then I came inside, and of course we fooled around. I tried to start the HIV status conversation several times but it never got anywhere. Afterwards I took a shower and as he was getting ready for sleep and as it was still quite early, I left and met the boys again at the Powerhouse. I will say it did loads (no pun intended) for my self-esteem to arrive as a rockstar. Sex and a shower and back out again. (For a basic prude like me, that's something.)
The next week or two later, I was invited to see Autie Mame at the Castro theater (Wednesday 12/14) with a work friend and his husband. Such an opportunity is not to be missed. I invited Boxcar to go with us, and as in Rent, he was all over me during the movie.
I will at this point say he does know how to push my buttons. Woof. But c'mon, there are times that it gets to be inappropriate. (I fear the anonymous reader may find that ironic or hard to believe.) However, earlier in the week I had cut my cheek on a chip which resulted in a huge canker sore. Suspicious of his HIV status, I had no intentions of unsafe play later. I explained to him (and this was a weeknight after all) that I was enjoying his company I wasn't planning to come upstairs. He didn't really take no for an answer and was quite... persuasive in the car (who knew in my tiny Saturn two full-sized people can fit in the front seat?)
I finally had to tell him why I didn't want to fool around and forced the whole HIV status conversation. I'm negative and he's positive. I made it clear that I was still perfectly happy dating him and sleeping together, but I am also very careful and very safe and that there will be times that I cannot do things.
He did not take that well. He made it clear that he wasn't interested in dating me at all and just likes having lots of sex. That stance was later softened to not wanting to date anyone and not just me in particular, which as a widower I totally get. But he made it clear he is not interested in a boyfriend, just screwing around, and sort of stormed off and never looked back. The entire experience threw me for a loop and I met Kevin, Rey, and Lance at Martuni's for a debrief and consolation.
Awkward as that was, I had already invited him to be my date to a party last night (12/16). Long story with a short ending: Everything seems to be fine. No hard feelings. He is still charming and amiable and fits in nicely with the crowd. He will be a good friend to have around, and his continued flirting with me does, after all, make me feel pretty.
Friday, December 16, 2005
massive missive
Okay, so I suppose I do have things to post. LOTS of stuff.
Sparkle was a huge hit. And I hear that the thousand points of light on the side of the house are still flashing.
There are, I am sure, dozens of stories about Sparkle. However, as manic host I only experienced a few of them. Everyone seemed to have a good time, and it was well attended for being less than easily accessible. Over a hundred folks I'd say. And an interestingly mixed crowd. Who also mingled well. I'll get to the Sparkle stories soon.
At the risk of sounding like an 80's high school student, I will say that the place looked AWESOME. And I totally got to second with Kevin's sister.
Fnally, I have a story to tell about a guy. I've decided, through my own strange stream of consicousness, that he shall be known here as "Boxcar." However, that story will take a page or two. I'll try to whittle it down.
So stay tuned.
Sparkle was a huge hit. And I hear that the thousand points of light on the side of the house are still flashing.
There are, I am sure, dozens of stories about Sparkle. However, as manic host I only experienced a few of them. Everyone seemed to have a good time, and it was well attended for being less than easily accessible. Over a hundred folks I'd say. And an interestingly mixed crowd. Who also mingled well. I'll get to the Sparkle stories soon.
At the risk of sounding like an 80's high school student, I will say that the place looked AWESOME. And I totally got to second with Kevin's sister.
Fnally, I have a story to tell about a guy. I've decided, through my own strange stream of consicousness, that he shall be known here as "Boxcar." However, that story will take a page or two. I'll try to whittle it down.
So stay tuned.
Alert Reader Mail
Alert Reader Herman Koberle sent this in this morning.
Much appreciated! I wonder how it would be if my own parents supported my man-love manias. Honestly-- don't know if that would be a warm-fuzzy or a way-creepy. I'm pretty certain I'll never find out.
Wilson:Reading this morning's newspaper when I saw the magazine I thought of you!? anyway, the Life site is interesting. I watch him in the evening ever since he replaced ol what's his name on CNN and think he is a very good reporter.
Much appreciated! I wonder how it would be if my own parents supported my man-love manias. Honestly-- don't know if that would be a warm-fuzzy or a way-creepy. I'm pretty certain I'll never find out.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Dry spell?
No.
You may have noticed I have not posted in a while. That's not to say nothing has been going on. In fact, just the contrary. It was an interesting and at times intense week leading up to and following Thanksgiving, but tales of which are not wisely posted here.
Rest assured nothing traumatic, just dramatic--with the ususal supporting cast, some special guest stars, a dash of intrugue, cliff-(well, balcony-)hangers, overdose of drink, and overdue debauchery.
But I am not telling.
My Own Private I Da Ho.
You may have noticed I have not posted in a while. That's not to say nothing has been going on. In fact, just the contrary. It was an interesting and at times intense week leading up to and following Thanksgiving, but tales of which are not wisely posted here.
Rest assured nothing traumatic, just dramatic--with the ususal supporting cast, some special guest stars, a dash of intrugue, cliff-(well, balcony-)hangers, overdose of drink, and overdue debauchery.
But I am not telling.
My Own Private I Da Ho.
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