Vacationed in New Orleans the first week of June ’14. Loved it. Want to move there some day.
In the meantime, I took copious pix which have been uploaded into two galleries (right-hand nav). Pix are typical vaca pix; things that I thought were interesting; tattoo process shots; cats of NOLA; and lots of food porn. Skip what’s uninteresting; enjoy that which is.
k.
I wasn’t sure whether to title this “gay” or “hate”… I decided to go with the more positive of the two.
I received the following message from Brian, an old friend from NYC. Kelsey is Brian’s wife’s God Daughter:
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Kelsey came out of the closet today. First to her family, then on Facebook. She lives in Louisiana surrounded by a conservative Christian community. She is having a really hard time, online and off, and could use all the friends and support she can get.
Please friend Kelsey and show her your support. Pass this message along to anyone you think might appreciate it.
Thank you.
-Brian
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Go here to friend Kelsey on FaceBook.
I dutifully FaceBook friended Kelsey; she accepted. I then went to her page. There I found numerous posts and comments from her “christian” friends (I suppose “friends” deserves quotes as well). These were people, horrified; people who couldn’t believe that their friend had so betrayed them, and therefore their version of Christ, by coming out of the closet.
They tossed the usual judgements at her, damning her soul while claiming to care about it.
How could she?!
I passed Brian’s message on to a number of, as I called them, my gay, spiritual, or spiritually gay, friends.
If you are on FaceBook, I urge you to friend this young woman via the link above.
Let’s face it. I, and most of the gay (my thumbs keep typing fay: a term stereotypical, as well as mis-spelled) people I know, live in a bubble. We have it relatively easy to very easy. Most of us live in cities, or larger towns, on “coasts”. One forgets.
Even here, having moved back to Reading, PA, it is easy to forget the days of my youth when it wasn’t as… Oh, but really, compared to what someone living in a true religiously conservative area goes through, even back then, in my fraught teens, I had it easy. (Thank you, Genesius; the theatre, not the Saint.)
How many young people out there never make it out alive simply because they can’t be free to be who they really are? Or just as tragically mind-bending, stand up to the world, showing their true selves, only to be beaten, spiritually, emotionally, physically, or often, all three? How many? How fucking many?
I could spend paragraph after paragraph of discourse on the hypocracy, the dishonesty, of the fundamentalist “christian” hate mongers. That, however, has been done before, by people far more learned than I. The problem is, one cannot have reasonable discourse when one party is blinded by a fundamental sense of “right”.
I no longer have the energy, or will, for this type of discourse.
What I do have energy for, is living my life as the out gay person that I am, and supporting those who choose, no matter the oppression, or odds, to do the same.
Have strength when you need it, lend your strength when it is needed from you.
How odd that the choice that Kelsey made, the choice to live as the Universe made her, the choice to live honestly to herself, and the world, how odd that that should have to be so hard.
Now that’s, as the kids today say, gay.
Nite,
k.
One would think, leaving NYC after 21 years and moving back to the area where I grew up, Reading, PA, that I would indeed feel a sense of failure. Oddly, I don’t. Instead, I feel something that feels more like completion.
No, I’m not saying, “I’m home, dig a hole and throw me in; life it over.” Not that kind of completion; not an ending. Rather, more a sense that the adventure that I was on is now over and there is a new adventure to experience.
Lord knows, in my years in NY, I did more, experienced more, than I would have ever imagined, growing up outside of Reading as I did. It has been an amazing ride: wonderful people, amazing places; a fantastic ride.
Recently I uploaded a list of what I’ve been doing theatrically since 1974, here’s the link. It was wonderful to look back over the years to where I’ve been, where I came from.
And now, on to the next adventure. It’s very exciting. At the moment, it’s also very wacky; living in my childhood bedroom in my parent’s home. I’m here alone, as Jamie is finishing up his job in NY – he was “job eliminated”. He’ll be here next week. I’m going up to haul him and the cats and some luggage and, perhaps, a friend’s daughter home to PA.
We, Jamie & I, not our friend’s daughter, she’ll be staying with her parents, are staying with my parents until our place in NYC sells. Hopefully that will be soon; it’s a really wonderful co-op apartment in a great building. We put a lot of work into it. I’m especially sad to give up my fabulous kitchen that we designed and built, but hey, now we can do it all over again…
And, should you be in the market for an apartment in NYC, here’s a lovely one. I’m sure you’d be happy there, I know we were.
So it’s time to move on to the next adventure. That’s what the falling dominoes of the last six months or so are saying anyway.
k.
Sphere: Related ContentIt’s really what rehearsals are about.
Clearly, though, there is activity, since, while there’s no way for you to know this, i’ve been working on this post for the last three days. Whenever I think to start writing again, I have to go up and do a scene.
It’s Monday night, 9:13 precisely. Tomorrow I grab the 5AM Bieber back to NYC, getting to work at about 8:30AM. Sheesh.
At least this way I have a night with Jamie before I head to Wisconsin Wednesday morning on a business trip.
Yes, some might argue that a trip to WI is never well timed, but this one certainly isn’t. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m anxious to meet the bunch of folks who I’ve become very close to via our daily emails and phone calls. I arranged an extra-curricular meeting with some friends from another nearby company, so it should be a fun, busy visit.
Anyway, this post seems to have become moorless. I’ll write from WI of I find the time and let you know how the cheese is! 😉
Later,
k.
Oh, almost forgot, check out Jamie’s latest site: www.goo-ku.com. SEM poetry at it’s finest? That’s up to him & you. What’s SEM? Go over and find out.
k.
Sphere: Related ContentSitting. “God, That’s Good” is being blocked – the 2nd Act opening. I’m waiting to be placed on top of my cube, which at the moment, is a tape mark on the floor.
Been there, done that. Waiting again; the nature of rehearsals. Mrs. Lovett & Toby are doing their thing in the bakehouse at the moment. Grinding meat.
Soon I’ll be going up to off The Beadle. Fascinating, isn’t it? It’s a process.
Saw a wonderful production of 12 Angry Men at Genesius last night. If you are in the Reading, PA area, I urge you to see it. It has one more weekend, 9/19 – 9/21.
I’ve killed The Beadle. Waiting to be blocked into the “searching” scene. Now they are blocking Fogg’s Aslyum and City on Fire.
Damn, this is a huge cast for such a small theatre. But this show will be wonderful. Oops, time to pay attention.
I was wrong. We never got to my scene before dinner break, which we are now back from. Still not doing anything, though. Looks like we are about to start. More later.
9:30PM – Rehearsal is over. We finished with the second act blocking and started running the first from the top of the show. Got to Ms. Lovett telling me about my Lucy’s fate and then we stopped for the night.
I decided I needed a burger, so here I sit at the Wyomissing Diner, one of the few places ’round these parts that’s open at this hour on a Sunday night. Very uncivilized, it’s not like I’m in the middle of Kansas… On the other hand, they do have a tasty burger and excellent fries.
And now home and ready for bed. Need my rest for my Monday 9 hours of telecommuting to my job in NYC. Fun. Well, more fun than actually being there, I suppose.
Hope you’ve enjoyed my day at rehearsal. LOL I know I certainly did.
Nite,
k.
And that.
Since it’s been so damned long since I last wrote, as Nath constantly reminds me, some random thoughts that have been running through my mind. In no particular order, with no particular relevance, rhyme or reason.
It was a great evening. A number of folks who I worked with, oh, 30ish years ago, were in the cast, some reviving their old roles (Genesius did the show in 1977; found these slides in my collection. Yeah, slides, kinda like visual 8 tracks) and some doing the show for the first time. Joining the “old hands” were a good number of new Genesians who were equally fun to watch. Quibbles with the production, of course, it’s me, the king of curmudgeons, but still, wonderful to see.
So scanned I was (I seem to have momentarily channelled Yoda), duly pricked, hooked up to machines, drained of blood, and what was discovered? I have a great heart, great lungs and seemingly, no lurking clots. In other words, no answer to what was causing the original symptoms, but the fear of my heart exploding is no longer hanging over my head. So, I guess, in the end, it is a virus, still a bit with me, as I’m still having occasional dizzy spells, but they are abating with each passing day.
Damn, the Sunday morning talking heads are on and I’m being distracted. More later, after the heads and a trip to the grocery store. Whoo Hoo! Do we know how to do holiday weekend, or what?! LOL
k.
Sphere: Related ContentThat’s what I’ve been working on.
This weekend, if anyone is in or around Reading, PA, I’ll be in a benefit for the theatre that is responsible, in a large part, for who I am, and really, my very existance.
Genesius Theatre. It’s good to be home.
Click on the link above for info about my beloved theatre.
The show is Fri. 2/29 & Sat. 3/1 at 8PM. Sun. 3/2 at 3PM.
Click here, for tix, should you wish to come on down. It would be lovely to see you.
Back to learning the lyrics.
k.
To Jamie and I.
8 years. Who would have thought it possible; I certainly never thought it would happen.
Funny what happens in your life when you stop looking for something to happen.
Tonight, dinner at Rene Pujol. It will be wonderful. And then, who knows.
Revisit the start of it all on Jamie’s site.
Happy day! I love my husband.
There are those in the gay community who poo-poo the whole idea, saying that we should not mirror the straight community. I say, “Fuck ’em.” I’ve never been too keen on the whole “community identification superceding my own humanity” thing. And I’d write more on that, but I’m at work and need to get back to it. So I’ll just say again, as the late, great Bob B. did, “That’s what makes the phone book.”
And now, back to work,
k.
Happy New Year!
I’ve previously mentioned the Christmas Eve bayberry mojo.
And now, here is the New Year’s Eve mojo tradition. A quick internet check shows nothing about my family’s traditional NY Eve mojo. My guess is that it is a mix of PA Dutch and Scottish tradition, or just something that got started long ago by no specific ethnicity and just got handed down until its precise origins were lost.
At any rate, my family’s tradition: in a small bag – I use a sandwich bag because that’s what my parents used, probably something nicer like a cloth bag would be looked on kindly by the gods, or maybe the humble nature of the sandwich bag is some kind of positive statement in and of itself – one per each member of the household – no “one bag is good enough for all” stuff here, everyone must have their own – place:
Why is the flour wrapped in paper? So it doesn’t get all messy in the bag, silly. My family’s traditional flour wrap has been a piece of paper towel, again, not particularly pretty, but humble and certainly serviceable.
Once these items are gathered in the bag, it is hung on the front door of your house (or apartment) to welcome in the New Year’s s(S)pirit. This is to be done on New Year’s Eve and must hang there until the morning of New Year’s Day.
And, like the bayberry candle that burns though Christmas Eve into Christmas Day, I understand that this is superstition. But neither the candle nor the NYE bag has let me down thus far and so, I’ll repeat, I’m not messin’ with the mojo.
And they pile on, I have acquiesced, adopted and even grown used to, Jamie’s family’s, “the Christmas tree must be taken down before New Year’s Day”, and he’s happy to have our ratty New Year’s bags hanging on the doorknob for the neighbors to wonder about.
I guess life is so dramatically random that even in this “advanced” modern age, sometimes it feels good and necessary to fall back on a little tradition, a little “magic”.
Have a safe and happy New Year!
k.
Zim has some very valid points in his comment to my last post and I think they warrant a response post. First, go read his comments if you haven’t done so already.
The Christmas Spirit; I’ve found as I get older, that so many things conspire against it. In no particular order:
There is nothing wrong with enjoying the material aspects of the season; giving is a demonstration of an aspect of the spiritual model. Giving, that is, without any expectation of return, giving to show your love, your appreciation of another human being.
As I’ve written in a previous post, I do think it is important to do some regular, unconditional giving. It can be monetary, but it doesn’t need to be, it can be a donation of time, donation of goods, etc., simply some acknowledgment that there are those less fortunate, more needy, than you. And here, I’m not saying, “Be a martyr to humankind,” but rather recognize that we all depend on each other.
In that vein, I urge more “green-ness” in everyone’s life. We continue to dismantle the delicate symbiosis with our Earth. This practice of “green-ness” is another face of giving and respect. We need to protect and care for the planet on which we live. The Earth will certainly survive despite our shenanigans, but she may, no, will refuse to support our existence if we continue to divorce responsibility for our action from their consequences.
In the end, if we want to keep the “magic” of the season alive, we need to embrace our loved ones, and the world, in our hearts, care for and respect those around us and also the world in which we live. And always remember, as our ancestors found as those fearful days, ever shortening, ever dying, turned, became slowly longer, ever less inexplicably dark, we can go forward from darkness to light, from fear to joy. But we will always be more able if we go hand in hand, our hearts warm and our minds open.
Thanks to you, Zim for prompting this bit of philosophizin’.
Nite,
k.
