thestagingarea.com

We have one in our kitchen now. Indeed, it’s just green sheet rock at the moment, but it is a lovely wall, a thing of beauty.

Click me to see some of the recent progress.

It is pretty amazing to see this transformation. The ceiling work alone makes a world of difference, magically changed from popcorn-ish ick to beautiful smoothness. I wish now that I had taken a good “before” pic of it. Ah well, it is etched in my memory, at least.

So before I hit the hay, here’s a link to a quick cell phone movie of the before, for posterity’s sake.

Nite,
k.

Tags: Life, Moving, NYC by Kirk
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Sizing up. Checking the space…

Yes, the kitchen wall now has structure to it. We’ve been convinced to not tear out the old wall, but rather, like archaeology in reverse, to build a new wall in front of it. So the studs are in place. Jamie’s pictured measuring so we can order the pressed tin that will eventually cover that wall when it is eventually in place. I’m supposed to be drawing it out, at this very moment, so we can fax it to the tin guys tomorrow. Clearly, as I’m writing, I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be be doing, but I’d rather do the drawing tomorrow when my head is fresh and my lines and my math will be much more precise.

To this, much as he did to my endless picture taking earlier today, Jamie would probably give me this face. But I’m strong, I can take it. And we already know that I am, or rather, am not, a procrastinator. I’ll think about tonight, whilst I dream. Dreams of measurements and of tin.

And in the morning, it’ll flow directly from my dreams onto the page in minutes… When I get around to it.

Nite,
k.

Tags: Jamie, Life, Moving, NYC by Kirk
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As in the store, not the library cataloging system.

I must admit to a certain prejudice against Sears. It’s a store that seems so old fashioned, so out-of-date; it felt that way even way back when, when I was just a lad. But they do sell great tools and appliances. And they have great sales.

This evening, Jamie and I took a long subway ride out to the Rego Park Sears. It was time to buy appliances for the new place. Or rather, one appliance and two other necessary household items. We were assisted by a wonderful woman named Glenda, who was certainly good and, in no way that I could see, a witch.

(Edit – After I published this and was heading to bed, it struck me that of course, the above reference is incorrect as it’s Glinda the Good Witch. Now, I could have just edited it out, but I think it’s a testament to my level of exhaustion that I, a lifelong homosexual, could forget the name of a character from that particular film. I say stet. – k.)

We got:

1. A new stove. Gas. With bridge burner in the center of the cooktop and, my dream, convection oven. Thank God for 20% off holiday sales!
2. A lovely range hood.
3. A 12000 BTU air conditioner.

This is all being delivered to the house on 7/10, the day before the rest of the kitchen arrives from Ikea.

Tomorrow, we’re getting exact measurements so we can order the pressed tin for the kitchen from Chelsea Decorative Metal Co. in, of all places, TX.

Hopefully the ceiling and the kitchen floor will be finished by the time all this arrives.

And yes, I do understand that this little blog of mine is becoming alarmingly johnny-one-note. At the moment, though, getting this apartment ready to move into is an obsession. A necessary obsession. A painful, muscle-aching, yet wonderfully joyous obsession.

One of these days, I promise to write about something else. Until then, well, this is my little space and I’ll write what I damned well please. And in the end, I’m too bloody exhausted right now to write anything longer than this anyway. Ah well, such are the joys of home ownership.

But damn, it’s going to look great when it’s finished.

Nite,
k.

Tags: General, Jamie, Life, Moving, NYC by Kirk
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Exhausting. That’s what it is.

To quote an overrated movie, “Life is like a box of chocolates”, blah, blah, blah.

I mean, Jamie and I knew that the apartment we bought was in need of repair. We embrace the concept of “sweat equity”. We were not, however, quite prepared for the amount of sweat that was in store. It’s like biting into a chocolate expecting a yummy caramel only to find it’s crunchy frog.

This weekend, our first 2 1/2 days of owning our new home, we have completely gutted the kitchen. Well, the wall tiles are still in, but we’re taking them down tomorrow. Here are my phonecam pix from today. We’ve also prepped all the walls for priming. It occurred to us near the end of the dust-spewing scraping that perhaps we should have donned masks.

Click here for Jamie’s account and pix.

We’ve discovered that the marble in the kitchen was laid badly and all cracked. This had been hidden by the linoleum laid atop it. So we ripped that out; the linoleum and marble, all gone. The cabinets have all gone bye-bye. The stove is in the living room until Monday when it is being carted away with the 100 or so above-mentioned marble tiles. The fridge, the fridge is staying. It has water and ice in the door and that makes Jamie extremely happy.

And what makes us both very happy is that it is ours, and remembering that, all the work is definitely worth it.

Tomorrow we head to IKEA to figure out how we are putting the kitchen back together again.

Did I mention the existing toilet leaks into the apartment below? A new one is arriving Monday. Talk about your box of chocolates. (Sorry, I’m exhausted.)

Nite,
k.

Tags: Jamie, Life, Moving, NYC by Kirk
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Points! Are what I wanted. I didn’t get them.

Ok, I am incredibly fortunate. I am now a homeowner. Well, actually the bank is a homeowner, I’m a 10%-of-a- homeowner, but that’s not my point. My point is that I’m incredibly lucky in a world, in a country, with such mindboggling poverty and homelessness, to have the wherewithall to purchase a home. A home with my partner, my husband, my other-and-better half. That said…

I wanted bells. I wanted whistles. I wanted a big, “Hurrah!!!” at the end of the process.

This process, not counting the four months of prep and waiting that preceeded today, consisted of 2 hours of signing. Signing form after form after form. As our wonderful lawyer pointed out, it’s like a Monty Python routine.

“Sign here. And here. And…here. Initial here. Sign. Here. And here. Initial here. And now here, with full name. And initial. And here, with full name in reversel alphabetical order… no sorry, lawyer’s joke… Well, we find it funny. And here. Here. Here…”

I was warned that there would be a lot of signing of papers; I felt prepared for the ordeal. I never imagined that there would be that much signing of papers. There were paper covering this. There were papers covering that. There were papers stating that we had the right, or no right, in the future to sign yet more papers should the need arise. There were papers to be signed stating that we had indeed signed the papers. There were lots of papers. There were two hours worth of papers. An entire forest was decimated by our transaction for a smallish one-bedroom apartment; this was the least green thing I’ve done in ages.

And when all the papers were signed, it all sort of piddled out. There were no more papers to sign, no more checks to write, nothing left to be done but go our separate ways.

Admittedly, I was the only one in the room new to this process. The lawyers do this for a living; they can close in their sleep. Jamie has gone through this process twice before, although as it was in FL where they use no lawyers, I’m told the process is much more… compact. This was however, to me, a totally alien experience.

And… I wanted something more. I suppose I wanted more closure from this closing. This is something I’ve been anticipating for four months and, to be fair, when something has been anticipated for that long, imagined for that amount of time, the actual event couldn’t possibly live up to the hype that has been built up in your head.

I wanted Be Our Guest from “Beauty and the Beast”; corks popping, people whirling; an orgy of frivolous mayhem and celebration.

But there was none of that. Before I knew it, the last paper was signed and there were quiet congratulations and hand shaking and parting of ways. Like smoke in a gust of wind, it was over and done.

I suppose the lesson to be learned here is that the really big moments in life most often aren’t accompanied by thunder and lightening. They often slip by unremarkably. And they are no less earthshaking for their modesty, just harder to recognize.

Jamie and I went back after the closing to look, for the first time unaccompanied, for the first time crossing our threshold, at our new home. Needs work. Needs lots of work. That’s when I realized: it’s not about the bells and whistles and corks popping. It’s about Jamie and I tearing out the old carpet, painting the dirty walls, replacing the faulty toilet. It’s about building our home together, our life.

And that quiet realization is better by far than any fireworks or popping corks or any other noisy whoo ha could ever be. I’m building a life, a home, with someone I love, who loves me. Who could need anything more than that?

Nite,
k.

Tags: Family, Jamie, Life, NYC by Kirk
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To the mega-media conglomerate that Jamie works for, for their two awards from the Commercial Closet Association. Admittedly, it was the same ad winning in two categories, but still…

The Commercial Closet Association has quite an interesting site, rating the best and worst gay portrayals in commercial media.

I’m particularly fond of the Norman campaign.

Also, congrats to the creators of Homestar Runner (a fav of mine) for not selling out recently to offers from Comedy Central to move Homestar off the net and on to the tube. Yay, Homestar! Special thanks to Jamie for bringing that to my attention.

Oh, and it’s two days now until Jamie and I close on our Co-op. Two more days… two long, long days… and counting.

And on a more serious note, I would’ve thought that by age 44 I’d stop producing zits. Not lots, not often, but right now, one, annoying as hell. These are the things I obsess over so I don’t have to think about the real problems in the world, like Greenland.

But if I start writing about Greenland now, I’ll never get to sleep tonight. So my zit and I are joining Jamie for a good night’s sleep.

Nite,
k.

Tags: General, Jamie, Life, Television by Kirk
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Just a quick round-up of happenings this week in the life of Jamie & I.

• Got a closing date for our Co-op.
• Had dinner with my High School French teacher at Chez Josephine. A great reunion!
• Tried to watch Walk the Line but it stopped halfway through. Netflix is replacing.
• Did I mention we got a closing date for our Co-op?
• Packed some more boxes.
• Got extremely drunk at the above mentioned dinner with HS French Teacher.
• Regretted the item above seriously the next day.
• Got vegetables galore at our Greenmarket.
• Watched The Passion of Joan of Arc, an amazing silent film with an amazing history.

Yes indeed, as of the late afternoon of June 21st, Jamie & I will finally be homo-owners. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate Gay Pride. Who needs a parade?

Nite,
k.

Tags: Food, France, General, Jamie, Life, Movies, Moving, NYC by Kirk
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I was thinking earlier today about my parents and how they would never have the grandchild that, I’m sure, they envisioned was in their future. Who can blame them? It’s the most natural thing humans do: expect, hope for, the continuation of our line.

So who could blame my parents for expecting the same from me. I would grow up, get married, and soon, just like their parents before them, they would be indulging my child, their grandchild. And so on and so on…

But of course, that wasn’t the way it turned out to be. The only child was gay. My parents landed on the Whammy; all systems stop, all passengers off. End of the line.

Now I need to clarify before I continue, my parents are wonderful. Not “wonderful,” he-must-be-hiding-some-deep-dark-secret
wonderful, of course there is disfunction, wouldn’t be a family without it, but all in all, I have great parents. And these parents, after an intial “you’re too young to make this decision” (I wasn’t) when I came out to my Mom at 14, have always been incredibly supportive. They’ve met most of the men I’ve dated over the years, they’ve always been heartbroken when my relationships have ended. It was their greatest fear that I wouldn’t find someone to spend my life with. They maintained that being gay made it so much harder to find a stable relationship, to which I always replied, “Have you seen the divorce statistics? Straight couples aren’t making such a great showing, either.”

And as it turns out, of all their friends, they are one of the only two couples still together after all these years. 46 of them to be exact. That’s a feat. The other couple that’s had that kind of longevity is a lesbian couple who are friends of my parents. I’ve known them since I was in grade school and they are still together and loving each other.

So as I see it, it’s a crapshoot no matter what your persuasion. Being coupled is hard work. If you are not able to deal with the manure under the beautiful flowers, then you’re not really ready to walk through that particular garden gate. Of course the trick is finding someone as willing as you to get his/her hands dirty. It’s all in the timing. And luckily, my and Jamie’s timing was perfect.

We both hit the time in our lives when, to quote Kiki and Herb quoting Kate Bush’s song “Moments of Pleasure” from her album The Red Shoes, “Every old sock needs an old shoe”. Do I miss the passion of new “love”? Sure, from time to time, but the comfort of my Jamie by my side reminds me constantly that I have something much more real. Who needs ephemera when you’ve got someone there, solidly by and on your side?

But I seem to have wandered far afield of the particular garden lane that was the path of guilt. Oh right, it’s just over there…

So from time to time I feel bad, feel guilt, that my parents will have no grandchild to dote over. I know that in the end, they are happy that I’ve found Jamie and that we have a good life together. But still I wonder if they cry in the night over what could have been. And then I realize that we all, from time to time, do that. We can’t change what is, we can’t change who we are or the hand we’ve been dealt by God, nature, life. We can only do the best with what we have and try not to worry about things that might’ve been. If we get bogged down in the what if’s, we lose sight of the beautiful what are’s.

And anyway, now they have my baby “sister” Precious, who’s all the loving bundle that they could ever wish for.

Nite,
k.

Tags: Family, Jamie, Life by Kirk
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I am not a waiter.

By that, I don’t mean I do not work in a restaurant serving meals. Truth be told, in the past, I have indeed waiter waited; I did not do that well either. In the end I’d describe myself as an optimistic misanthrope; I like individuals, I just find humankind as a whole pretty overrated. That kind of outlook doesn’t serve one well in the hospitality industry. But I digress…that is not what this is about.

No, I mean waiting, as in passing time until something that is going to happen, happens. I do not wait well. It stresses me out.

The constriction of waiting. This is what leaves and flowers must feel as they are pushing, groping their way into bloom; aching through hard ground, unveilding wood until finally, finally released, they unfurl into relief.

Here is the misconception about waiting: it seems a passive endeavor. It is nothing of the sort. Waiting is an extremely active thing. It is like a race car, engine revving, wheels spinning, but with the brakes held firm, anticipating that moment of release, building up tension, energy, until released, it shoots from the starting line like a madman pursued by screaming demons.

A bit dramatic perhaps, but nonetheless true, for me anyway.

This Co-op buying experience that Jamie and I have been going through has been 10% active and 90% waiting. And it’s been going on for months. And we will continue on in stasis until next week. Until next week. He sees a light at the end of the tunnel, he sees the light changing from red to yellow and oh so soon to green. His foot tingles at the thought of lifting from the brake. He senses relief coming like a cool breeze on a stagnant summer day. He sees an end to the waiting.

This is not buying a toaster. One cannot walk into a store, pick up a home and head to the checkout. It’s a long, drawn out process. It is a process that is maddening to the bad waiters of the world. And yet…

Soon Jamie and I will have a home that we can call “ours”. And while it’s true that our current rental is our home, the Co-op will be our home. A place owned that we can make our own.

And that, my friends, is worth every bit of the wait.

Nite,
k.

Tags: Jamie, Life, Moving, NYC by Kirk
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This is what I need to learn.

And so…

Walking tonight, well yesterday nite really,
The air outside was like
I’m 6, 7, 8, 9 and on my parent’s porch.
The thunderstorm is coming, but for now
The night is close, even with the breeze
That carrys the promise of violence.
Violent, but yet comforting.
Because I’m on the porch, watching,
Waiting for the unleashing. Expecting
Downpours that will brush under the
Eaves and touch me with their clean,
Electrified majesty.

And now, to quote a favorite song by The Smiths , Frankly, Mr. Shankly, “I didn’t realize you wrote such bloody awful poetry.”

I promise not to do it too often. Really I do.

Nite,
k.

Tags: General, Life by Kirk
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