take note

As a man of letters, I'm speaking of actual missives not just talking as a writerly person, I have found a new interesting blog. Well, it's new to me. Cleaning out my parents' attic over the past few weeks I came across several caches of priceless hand-written letters—letters from my grandfather to my grandmother during the second World War, letters from my cousin in Alabama chronicling her life as an early teen and attendant drama, letters to/from my brother from his college years at Davidson and at King's College in London (including a wonderfully saucy one from one brother to another)—and as I collected these tangible treats, I thought how my niece and nephew might miss you on such treasures, such tangible records of their lives, should all of heir correspondence be electronic. No more pens put to paper. No one will clean out their attics and ponder wistfully over old YouTube directories and Facebook posts.

The blog which caught my eye is Letters of Note, which singles out different physical epistles each post and offers insight, commentary or reflection on, well, letters of note.

As long as we're talking about the written word, another wonderful gem crossed my path this week: a startup company offering hand crafted antique books—be they law journals, medical tomes, or cookbooks—handcrafted to conceal a hand-crafted Italian glass flask within.

Now these are books I could really get into.

Bender Bound: Each item is made to order and takes six to eight weeks to fulfill, so no luck ordering for the holidays this year. Which is sad because I really wanted to get Jay one of those big boring law books with a bottle within for his office. Each one runs about $130, with pre-orders discounted to $100. The lads are seeking capital funding to continue and grow their business. On a side note, they proudly note that "No hipsters were employed during the crafting of our books."

Brinicle

From the BBC:

A bizarre underwater "icicle of death" has been filmed by a BBC crew.

With timelapse cameras, specialists recorded salt water being excluded from the sea ice and sinking. The temperature of this sinking brine, which was well below 0C, caused the water to freeze in an icy sheath around it. Where the so-called "brinicle" met the sea bed, a web of ice formed that froze everything it touched, including sea urchins and starfish. The unusual phenomenon was filmed for the first time by cameramen Hugh Miller and Doug Anderson for the BBC One series Frozen Planet.

See also:

Letter to Three Wives

The synopsis looked promising so I set TiVo to record it on TCM. Then I saw Steve Hayes's recent episode (#87) of Tired Old Queen at the Movies and I can't wait to watch it (Letter to Thee Wives). But maybe I'll save it to savor with friends...



As a film buff and major mo, it's hard not to love Steve Hayes.

Stuff it.

The best Thanksgiving cooking show ever. Eight minutes of joy and all you need to know to make a Thanksgiving turkey, even the vegetable dish should you use her advice on that too. LOVE her. Full of wisdom, not full of shit.

I learned last year at Turkey 2.0 that cooking a turkey is just baking another damn bird, and gravy makes it tastier. It's not stem cell research.

Celebrate with me by watching Chef Tante Marie, AKA Mary Riley of Mary Riley's Cooking School's "Put the Fucking Turkey in the Oven."



Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

he could have been a boy named Sue

I met a guy in Nashville at a party.  As we were making introductions he said, "They named me Benny Joe Junior...on my 18th birthday my father apologized."

Now on my list of things to be thankful for: not being named Benny Joe Junior.

Or Sue.

Is anybody hungry?

Hungry like the woof?

Uncharacteristically, it has been a very flirty several weeks for me.  I am not accustomed to being on the receiving end, so to speak.  Why is it that as soon as I am at my largest and least want anyone to see my body, there are so many digital knocks at the door I'm worried for my chinny chin chin.  Then again, if it's a big bad woof come to blow me down, I am totally okay with that.

I would also be okay with three little pigs.

be prepared

"If they make me go to a AA meeting, I'm taking a flask."

My new drag name

I love Miss Otis Regrets. And I have tried on Pearl Haggard and Tempers Flair. But I think from now on, if ever get into a drag persona again, her name will be Cheyenne Demure.

Update: I have been informed that this is hardly original (like my other favorite, Tequila Mockingbird). Just great queens thinking alike. I think I'm back to Tempers Flair.

Should the need ever arise again...

slim fit

Looking at the PYT passing by in the bar in Nashville, with slender hips and even slenderer backside, my friend says, "He must be taking Noassitol."
"Is that available over the counter now or only by prescription?"

too much for a pithy title

But absolutely required reading. After reading that, see the follow up.


"I'm Christian, unless you're gay."

enough

I am really looking forward to the second week of January, when I am hoping nothing will be happening.

sidelong glance

"That drag queen is best viewed with peripheral vision."

do not try this at home

"Realty" TV isn't even close. But it occurred to me, Tosh.0 completely is.

haunting melodies

I can't tell if my iPod is haunting me or consoling me. He's strumming my pain with his fingers.

I am alone in the attic, having mentally and chemically (coffee) revved myself up for the task of examining, evaluating, cataloging, storing and weeding three generations of deeply personal memorabilia in the attic, alone, and trying not to feel so deeply and fall into sobs with every visceral moment prompted by some piece of tangible evidence of my father's life and my father's love.

I brought one of Dad's iPod speaker docks up to the attic, plugged it into the corner and set it to shuffle. And loud.

Out of the more than 6,000 songs available, the last three in a row have been about love and loss:

Lady Gaga's Yoü and Ihttp://youtu.be/X9YMU0WeBwU

It's been a long time since I came around
Been a long time but I'm back in town
And this time I'm not leaving without you

Katy Perry's The One That Got Away

In another life
I would make you stay
So I don't have to say
You were the one that got away

All this money can't buy me a time machine
Can't replace you with a million rings
I should've told you what you meant to me

Gavin DeGraw's Not Over You

Dreams: that's where I have to go
To see your beautiful face anymore. I stare at a picture of you
And listen to the radio

If you ask me how I'm doing
I would say I'm doing just fine
I would lie and say that you're not on my mind
But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally I'm forced to face the truth
No matter what I say I'm not over you

So I just stood there in the dim and dust, wept, and let myself feel it for a while. It occurs to me I can only cry like that when I am alone.

I first heard the wonderful Not Over You this week with Mom attending Ellen's highs school talent show performance. The freshman who sang it has some serious talent, and we were moved and impressed by his performance. (As well we should be I suppose, as it turns out that was Hank William's grandson). Only after his performance did I start hearing the Gavin DeGraw's single on the radio, and then I bought it off iTunes. I have been listening to it almost on repeat.

But the first time I heard it on the radio I was driving back from Mac and Emily's with Mom, and it felt so intimate in the car with her. The lyrics adding a knife's edge to her mourning. I had to wipe away tears while driving and just stay quiet. I imagined what she must feel listening to the words:

Dreams: that's where I have to go to see your beautiful face anymore.
I stare at a picture of you and listen to the radio.

If you ask me how I'm doing, I would say I'm doing just fine.
I would lie and say that you're not on my mind.
But I go out, and I sit down at a table set for two
And finally I'm forced to face the truth: No matter what I say I'm not over you.

Everyone asks her how she is doing. Every night she sits down at a table set for two. And of course she's not over losing Dad. None of us will be for a long while, and the bride of 53 years the longest.




Closing note: I thought about embedding the videos to these songs here, but the video to Not Over You is just so offensively awful it degrades the emotional connection I have with the song now and can't bear to view it again, nor to subject you all to it.

Nashville November 2011

I'm home in Nashville for the week to spend more time with Mom post-Dad. That, and the roof needs to be replaced and this time they're going to have to take the entire roof off so I am home to move everything, everything out of the attic. 40 years of stuff. It's day three and I have not yet moved an item, but there has been lots of prep and other work. Like tech support x4.

Also, more sad news—my trip was well timed as the day before I left Emily's, my sister-in-law's, father died. I landed in time for the family gathering and the visitation, funeral and wake the next day. Bill Johnston was a REMARKABLE man and dedicated cancer surgeon and father. Tragically, we was diagnosed with Alzheimer's at the young age of 53...16 years ago. Our families are close and losing both fathers within a month of each other has brought us even closer in the shared experience. Bill's siblings and their families flew in for the service and were all absolutely great people and a pleasure to meet—especially the kids. If they've found their way here, shouts to Darby and Max.

On a fun note, there has been a happy surprise— I got this e-mail from Davidson alum and fraternity brother Towner:


Guess where I am!
This was clearly the Pancake Pantry! And Tooner didn't know I was in town. Unfortunately, neither of us had the other's mobile number, so it took some calling among other Fiji's to find out. We did manage to hook up and his hotel is just a skip from Tribe so he joined me and Keith for drinks, dinner and showtunes night. He left this morning, and we got some more quality time in at MOnday's karaoke night, which is hosted by Keith. Towner pulled out a couple of numbers, including House of the Rising Sun and I started slow (I cannot carry a tune.) with the theme song to Three's Company, and closed with Who's Your Daddy? and Being Green.


I have, shall we say, a limited repertoire. (Seriously, me and signing do not get along.) But one does want to participate. I was searching for a song featuring only the three notes I can make, and was happy to come across this track in the catalog.


While I could never hope to perform this, shouts out to the awesome Dean Miller. We were friends though Cousin Clark "back in the day" when he was launching a performing career in addition to a successful songsmithing one. You may be more familiar with some of his dad's work, such as King of the Road.

Speaking of talented songwriters/performers, Ellen Hardcastle batted cleanup at the Ensworth High School talent show Saturday night, which is no small feat. She performed on of her original works for the piano. The baby-faced, adorable and golden-throated Sam Williams sang the penultimate number with the Joyce twins on piano and percussion. He family was sitting in front of us, and at dinner afterward at the Sportsman's, we all thought it was pretty cool to say that Ellen just performed for Hank Williams Jr. While Papa John remains on repeat in our playlists, we are also big fan of the piece she performed for the show, Esther. Here she is playing it at home, recorded with her laptop.


And while we're at it, here's to Papa John.


Okay, enough of this. I've got to hit the store, load up on caffeine and music, and start hauling stuff from the attic to the basement. Y'all take care.

David Mamet's Race at ACT

One word review: Preachy.

Five word review: A terrible play, beautifully acted.

In fact, all of the production values were impressive. But wow, was this hard to watch. Or rather, listen to. Not because the subject of race in modern America is uncomfortable, but I could not willfully suspend my disbelief enough to think that any first year law student could be so stupid, incompetent, and contrary to duty as these characters.  Much less could I accept this behavior from the seasoned, talented professionals that these characters are supposed to be. Pretty much any episode of Law & Order does a better job of portraying (1) legal drama or (2) issues of modern race relations. David Mamet was really full of himself in this one. Ugh. I imagine this would be painful for any actual lawyer to sit through without screaming. Or litigating.

Dia de Meurtos

Kevin and I try to spend Day of the Dead together and participate in the ceremonies in the Mission, and this year was particularly poignant for both of us.  The Mission event has gotten larger, and larger, and we consider sort of the "New Halloween," but hopefully with less trouble as it is not an ego-centric event but an other-centric event, and respectful and celebratory to our mutual dearly departeds.  I was impressed this year that the vast majority of attendees were fully participatory in victorian death garb and/or face paint.

We started at Chris and Tom's, who have generously and kindly kept me on their giant Day of the Dead party list these past several years. Chris and Tom also own/run Regalito's so their food was amazing. They moved their altar to the garden this year, which was gorgeous as always.  By the way, the cross of calla lilies is carved from wood.  Beautiful.


I added my tribute to Dad.

The whole night was rather emotional, and I didn't think it through beforehand that, yes, I needed to be participatory and face painted as is my way, but I didn't consider how much it might run every time I teared up.


The altars in the park ranged from intricate and creative to simple and unabashedly honest.






I added another memorial for Dad at one of the public altars set up, and Kevin placed this photos and remembrances of his brother and grandmother. We shared our grief and appreciation and celebrated their lives as we could.

Ode to Papa John

Ellen Hardcastle, my very talented niece and namesake to the new Hank Green album, composed a piece for Dad the afternoon that he died. She performed it at the service celebrating his life and I love this in all sorts of ways.

Here is the Ode to Papa John, by Ellen Hardcastle.



She writes, "This is a song that I wrote the night my grandfather passed away. He loved jazz music so I thought he would appreciate this. It's not really like what I normally write, but I think it captures everything I want it to."

GWLBWLB

The promos for the Nashville-based new season of the Sundance Channel's reality show Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys are hitting the web.



As a rule, I loathe "realty" television, which is not even close to reality. Unscripted is the industry term. Contrived works for me as well.  Dear God, anyone remember how complete fake and absolutely terrible Boy Meets Boy was?  Ugh.  This show looks on par with the artificiality typical of "reality television."  But..it also looks entertaining.  And I do love watching shows where I have a personal relationship with the locations.

This season centers on four gay guys and the girls who love them/their BFFs. I know half of the guys. Not well mind you, but still. The Nashville gay community may be wide but it's not all that deep.

The "gay dad" in this is Keith's boyfriend. He was approached to be a central figure, and after much deliberation, declined. Later, he was asked repeatedly to be a part of the show as he and Peter began dating and became a couple. Sure, being on national television is exciting, but there was just too much of a questionable and manipulating risk factor to make it worth it. In my opinion, his decision not to participate was a wise one. (Of course, while the Jersey Shore whores are an international laughing stock, they are comforted by their piles and piles of money. FWIW.)  While personally and professionally I think Keith should shy away the cameras, I think Peter's participation is likely a good thing for him.  He is rising as a stand-up performer and actor and for that industry, sometimes any exposure is good exposure, and I want to be supportive of his professional aspirations.  He appears to be a genuine and solid guy and I hope he is "cast" as such by the editing.

I first met Brent, who appears to have been cast as the Hot Mess in this show, when I was home in the summer of 2007. I always found him to be charming and nice if not manic and socially determined. From my perspective, he was setting himself, fairly successfully, as The It Gay Guy in New Nashville. He worked pretty much every angle, was at every party, and made sure to know as many people as he could, and to be the center of any event he attended. I do not say these things as aspersions, and actually have respect for his knowing what he wanted and putting in the effort to get it. Of course, he could also be exhausting, and unabashed social climbing tends to rub me the wrong way. So perhaps the "hot mess" the promos present him as is not too far from the truth.

"Cast" members aside, I don't have any respect for producers or show runners of reality television. Reports from Keith included conflict pitches from producers. I imagine they wanted dramatic scenarios where drama ensued with a girls best gay friend gets a boyfriend and it becomes all southern trashy jealousy and sass. (And Keith, knows he can pull out that sass and turn on a heel when warranted. I am glad, though, that it won't be on air or online.)

Last June me and mine attended a benefit "Princess Party" featuring Debbie Gibson and sponsored by, among others, Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys. Yes, gay men may have straight female close friends. However, we tend to call each other "friend," not "gay friend" or "straight friend." That really cheapens a genuine friendship. (Likewise, we argue that it's not "gay" marriage. It's just "marriage." We don't gay park our gay cars either.)

At the Pride event, producers from the show repeatedly hounded my friend soliciting her participation on the show. The female producer was intrigued because when she asked, "Which one of these guys is your GBFF?" her response was, "umm...they're just my BFFs, minus the G." Which of course, had the opposite effect, and then the producer wouldn't leave her alone. That my beautiful, successful and self-assured friend had more than one "gay best friend" must have made her look like a gold mine, or in reality television terms, crack. The producer even pitched a variety of attention-getting scenarios, all of which centered around pitting one friend against another. I suppose she was looking for a catty bitch fight, but if these people are your friends, why cause them grief? With friends like those, who needs enemas.

My friend was pretty clear that she had zero interest in participating. She was much more polite than I would have been. I wanted her to say something like "No thank you. I am interesting without being on television."

We were IM'ing about this when the promos came out:

A: And that's EXACTLY why I have no interest in reality TV. Because it's not real. And in no way would this show have been an accurate portrayal of us.
A:We're way darker.
B: Seriously.  How can we dispose of the bodies with a camera crew following us around?
A: Oh, I'd like to take that challenge.

Goosed.

Google became the dominant search engine basically by two methods (1) the complexity of it's search algorithms and (2) the simplicity of it's interface. Although now the search results are ad-laden and related to personal histories and online interactions, which may be distracting to some and disturbing to others. Particularly for mobile users. And let's face it, we don't want all of our searches logged into a pop-up history.

Giles at the Cult of Mac recommends a new mobile search engine for iPhone users which is seemingly just as powerful as the Google app but more mobile user friendly. And as they say at DDG, "Google tracks you, we don't."

Check out Duck, Duck, Go. I've made the switch and I'll let you know how it goes after a couple of weeks.

Beware the Candy Man

This is funny because it's sad. Jimmy Kimmel challenged parents to to tell their kids the morning after Halloween that they ate all of their candy, and then to upload videos of the reactions to YouTube. I think no one was prepared for so much crying and hysterics.



Sure, I get it—getting all hat candy is exciting, a lot of work, and some of us tended to hoard all of the candy treats like treasure, and to find that it's all been taken is upsetting. But I am surprised at some of these intense reactions. I'd hate to see their coping skills at something genuinely tragic. The two kids at the end though are priceless. Very disappointed, but completely calm and reasonable about it, and totally call Mom out. Of course, these kids are so collected they may grow up to be either leaders of industry or criminal masterminds.

I don't think I could pull this on Leland. Watching these videos, it seems way too cruel. That, and Leland has a serious crack-like relationship with sugar. This would really shatter his world and possibly scar him for life. To do this just to watch a sweet kid cry is not that entertaining.

I'm just going to assume all of the crying, raving kids in this video are brats. It makes the laughter easier.

The father formerly known as prince.

Another heart-felt letter about Dad, sent to my brother Mac, and forwarded to the other sibs:

Mac, I hope your doing ok. I know this has been a difficult time for you. I know this sounds trite but when my mom died this summer I was struck by the finality of it all. The eternal aspects of the whole thing are just overwhelming.

I think I told you this story, but when I returned to Nashville 24 years ago your Dad wrote me the nicest letter. I had inquired about a job and Alex Buchanan had spoken to your Dad about me. While he had no openings at the time, he wrote me the kindest letter, as if I was an old friend of his coming back to his home town. I took that as an opportunity to call him and we exchanged phone calls for several years after that.

I have never met anyone in this town who didn't think your Dad was just a prince of a man.

I know that as time passes your pain will fade, and you will remember proudly all the great memories you must have.

Paul

Paul Gxxxxx
Nashville Personal Trust

Suddenly, the items on my "to do" list don't look so bad.

I kind of love this headline, if not just for the "exhausted with all the bullshit" attitude of the copy editor who wrote it.

Looks like Lindsay will not be passing Go.

I may have come up with something along the lines of "Lindsay does not pass Ho, goes directly to jail."

dumbass

making history

Sent in from Alert Reader Holly. From the Metropolitan Historical Commission Newsletter, November 2011:

MHC Updates
Remembering John Hardcastle
As many of you know, John B. Hardcastle, a former member of the Metropolitan Historical Commission, died in October. Mr. Hardcastle joined the commission in July 2003. He was a devoted and active member of the commission for many years. A long-time advocate for the preservation and protection of our community’s cultural and natural resources, Mr. Hardcastle served as President of Friends of Warner Parks, board member for Friends of Radnor Lake, Director and President of the Tennessee Historical Society, Trustee and Chairman for the Tennessee Chapter of the Nature Conservancy, and numerous other roles with additional organizations. Thank you, John, for your service to our commission, and to our city!

Disco+PBR+1979 Patrick Swayze, you do the math

Via Uptown Almanac, a 1979 PBR ad with a very young Patrick Swayze getting his groove on.



Several take aways here:
(1) The hair. My god the hair. On Patrick. And his incessant smile. I particularly love the "Brett Girl" hair shake he gives just after he's bounded down the stairs from of his apartment building.

(2) Seriously, that excited/expecting look he's sporting on his face makes me think he's walking with a raging erection strapped down in those dance pants. Maybe he could use that scarf he's dancing in.

(3) I don't know enough about the dance club scene of 1979—would exhibition dancers like that in a disco be considered gods or douchebags?

(4) Seriously? People ordered PBR drafts in dance clubs? And they were served in huge steins? And it was both butch and feminine to do so? She looks ridiculous with that enormous mug. And I mean the glass of beer in her hand. Wouldn't the hot dance chick be more likely to order something situational pretentious like a Creme de Menthe or a spritzer or something?

And thanks to YouTube's "related" feature, see also.

we know Jack

I almost forgot to thank Eric and Greg for their fun Harvest Dinner gathering and jack o'lantern carving.

Emily, professional organizer, had the most organized jack o'lantern.

Greg, inspired by the recent Picasso exhibit, went Cubist.

Jenny used a stencil but turned out to be a little more Rorschach.

PeeDee's was a little..."special." If this pumpkin were on "Strangers with Candy," it would like cake.

I went with a seasonal scene rather than a face, but was pretty pleased with what I could carve with a wide saw and a small gourd.

Aaaaoooooooo!

National Let's Play Dress Up Day!

AKA, Happy Halloween.

Loved, loved, loved my flight attendant gurls.  And no surprise they handily won the costume contest at the Powerhouse before moving on to Trannyshack.  We caught up with these illuminated ladies (the dresses had landing lights!) at Twin Peaks before the rest of their long night flight.  I've guessing it was a red eye!




You just gotta love this.


My "Man with a Dilemma" worked out nicely too. The gag and megaphone details were noted and duly appreciated.



Thanks to Alert Reader Coco for hosting a pre-party at Beck's Motor Lodge (Yes! Beck's!! Holeee...), to David and Sean for bringing it, and to Oliver and his face painting fun at our final destination of 80s dancing.


Happy Halloween!

Brother, can you spare a million dimes?

Oh Goody.  San Francisco ranked fourth most expensive US city.

Is it any wonder I am over 40 and still live in the same rent-controlled studio apartment I moved into in 1997?