Rant

I was reading a story about Dark Knight star Christian Bale about the hullabaloo this past weekend in London. In the article, the writer says Bale is a very private person, and has yet to reveal the name of his daughter to the press and the public.

It struck me odd that either of these groups needed to know this. Who the fuck cares? Why do we have this bizarre fascination with celebrities? Why do we need to know everything about them? Why do we throw money at People, Us Weekly, OK Magazine to learn all the stuff we don't need to know?

Some claim (like TMZ), as public figures they leave all private matters behind, and that the public has a right to know, say, what the name of Bale's daughter.

Errr.....what?

I can careless (as a matter of fact, while I knew he was married, I was unaware he had a daughter, and I've lived a blissful life, not worrying a night away because I did not know it) about the private lives of any celebrity. At times, I feel the press does go out of their way to get photos and "create" stories to sell to magazines and so-called "entertainment" shows like Extra and almost everything on the E! Network. They hound people, wrapped in the American flag, and think its alright to talk to people like they're the best buds in the world.

American’s who watch reality shows like Tori Spelling and the Kardashians are pathetic, inhuman creatures, getting off on soulless, questionable morality, dysfunctional stars who have way too much money and time on their hands. And why that ugly-assed Paris Hilton is even considered a celebrity is beyond me.

These fools have never worked for a living, have been sheltered from the real world, and have no idea how to interact with normal people.

And American's think this is cute, and fun.

You all are a bunch of morons.

Christian Bale's problems are his own and I don't care, or even think, we need to know them. We certainly don't need to know the name of his daughter.

Lost on an Empty Sky

So, Brit Hume is reducing his workload at FOX News by the end of the year, when his contract is up. He is quoted as saying that he's "been doing this a long time, and it's just not as fascinating to me as it used to be. Look, journalism is a lot about enthusiasm. You have to have it. I find I am no longer as interested in politics as I was."

I can actually understand that, but apply it to my work. I've been working retail and the book business for far too long, and it has lost all of its appeal. I find it harder and harder every day to get up and go there. And I'm no longer interested in what my company says anymore, and no longer care what my RM's and DM's say.

I'm bored and feel that I no longer can be challenged. I've learned all that I can, but to achieve anything more there, I need to sell my soul to the Gods of Demographic Numbers.

And that is something I'm unwilling to do.

Oy!

I need to win the lottery and open my own business.

Washing the car and paying for gas

I've never been one of those guys that washed his car every week, or every other day. A car has always been a means of travel for me, not a status symbol. So, it's not very often that I do wash it. When I was living in Chicago area, I would wash it a couple of times during the winter, but it was only to get the corrosive salt they used on the roads to melt the snow and ice. During the summer time, I hardly washed it at all.

Since moving here, I've sort of got in the habit of not washing it. Mostly because of the dust that gets blown around here. Living in a near desert area, dirt is an everyday annoyance.

So today, on a whim, I decided to wash my car. To be honest, I cannot remember the last time I actually washed the beast. Had to be sometime in 2007. Really, sometime in 2007. It took all of about half hour, and I was pretty happy with the way it turned out.

Late this afternoon, I decided to go for a walk. I was bored, the house a bit warm. So, I leave and pass by my car parked out in the back. I notice were the water ran down hill, the dirt has left mark on the pavement, like a ring in a tub when washing a particularly dirty child.

It made me realize how dirty my car was. Maybe I should wash it more than once a or twice a year. Plus, I've heard, keeping you car clean prevents drag and thus save money on gas.

Speaking of gas, I paid 4.35 a gallon on Friday. Three weeks ago, I paid 4.49, one week later I paid 4.45, and this week 10 cents less. So, it went down nearly 20 cents in three weeks. Pretty good, but its bound to rise again.

4th of July

After complaining about work so much, I decided today I'll just say this: It's getting harder and harder to get up each morning and go there.

It's just not fun anymore, you know?

So, anyways, went to work -and for a company trying to cut costs, why have me work today is beyond me. It's just I'll get paid 8 hours for working, plus 8 hours for holiday. Work 8, get paid for 16. While I'm not complaining, it seems rather loopy. But that's Borders Books and Music for ya.

Got home and saw people already setting up to watch the fireworks. I guess the one advantage to living here, is that I can watch the fireworks display right from my front porch. So I made myself some hot dogs, pulled the folding beach chair and sat outside.

A very nice lady named Debbie knocked on my door and asked to sit on my front lawn with her family. And since the people to the left and right of me cordoned off their front lawns like some scene out of CSI, I said yes. Now, I can understand somewhat why they did this -after all, you don't want a bunch of people laying around causing all sorts of problems on your front lawn. Still, none of these people actually own the property. It's a gray are, so I'll give to them. Just does not seem American, what ever that really means.

I brought out housemates boom box, this 1980's style thingy that would've not been out of place on the shoulders of some white kid from the suburbs trying to look cool walking through the local forest preserve. I plugged my iPod into it, and jammed to some tunes.

All in all, a nice display of fire works (look below).

It is also the first weekend since the end of May that I have nothing to do. No place to go, no gas to lose (though I paid 4.41 on Wednesday, which was 4 cents cheaper than last week and 8 cents cheaper than a fortnight ago. Don't know if it means a damn thing, but ya for David).

Suppose to be hot this week, really hot. So I might get up early and go bike riding before the sun starts baking like pancake on a griddle. Otherwise, I need to read. I've barley picked up How I Paid for College.

But there is the season finale of Doctor Who. I'm really curious how Journey's End will top last weeks episode.

Man it was hot

Summer began on Thursday last week, and here in SoCal, it came in like a lion. From Thursday until today, we baked under triple digit heat in the valleys. I spent most of Saturday near the ocean, the first time I've been there since I moved here nearly 3 years ago. The pic above was taken by Adam's mobile phone, and me at the waters edge on Santa Monica beach.

Anyways, we Adam and I hooked up with Michelle and Stephen and headed to Studio City for a movie -King Fu Panda - dinner and long conversation.

But it was hot. After getting out of the movie, you felt the heat of the day. It was like someone had turned on their oven to 500 degrees and left the door open. Waves of heat just poured over you. It was 106 here, but got even hotter in valleys and like 118 in Palm Springs.

Sunday we filmed The Helena Chronicles 1.03, Letter of the Law. It was so fucking hot at the studio, that it made for a very unpleasant day. And it's bound to get worse.

A History Lesson: First Love

How and when it all began is foggy. I really have no memory of my first ten years, and what I do remember I’m not sure they’re real memories or ones “implanted” by relatives. My dad died in July of 1968. I was 5 ½. His death had a major impact on my life and there was no one to talk to then, no counselors and even my mother’s church seemed unsure what to do, though one priest helped my mom cope; after all she had 4 kids to bring up.

Anyway, four doors down from my mom’s was a kid who would become my best friend. But when and how we met is a mystery to me. I only remember the years after my mom married her second husband. But, to say the least, I’ve known this guy for 35 plus years.

It was an odd relationship, really. I think what drew us together was a strict mother. My mom did not let us kids get away with anything, and neither did his mother. So, we became friends.

There is one thing I need to mention here, something even this late in life, I have a hard time talking about. I was born with something called pectus excavatum -or commonly called funnel chest. My sternum, basically, is depressed in a concave shape (see photo on the side). Again, while this can be fixed today, when I was a kid is was risky, life threatening surgery. My parents were unwilling to have it done. And then, as mentioned, my dad died of lung cancer. This disfigurement created a negative self-image for me (and still does today). I still have an unwillingness to be seen without a shirt while swimming, or even in my house when my roommate is home.

Anyway, this kid knew about that and was the only person who accepted me as “normal”. Of course, I was jealous that he could take his shirt off anytime he wanted. I do remember one time that when we played together he had his shirt off and requested that he put one on. I was just terribly self conscious of this and hated being around someone who could something I could not do: walk around shirtless without other people laughing at me (which I do remember, sadly).

Again, I don’t know when it all began, but our relationship took on different meaning when puberty struck. It became very physical.

During our early teens -he’s six months younger than me - his parents divorced. While his dad stayed in Illinois, he moved with his mom to Colorado. I knew I would miss him, badly, but I also could not tell you why. We sent letters back and forth for about two years, before he returned to Illinois to live with his father. Our friendship resumed, as well as our sexual relationship.

By then, while I knew something was different in me. I could not articulate it yet, but when I was with him, I knew I was safe from ridicule and anything else. We spent as much time as we could together, but because we went to different High Schools, we usually only had weekends. And his dad was always around then.

He also was dating girls by now, something I realize now, pissed me off. But he had a new girlfriend almost every week. None were ever serious. Just after High School, he joined the National Guard. During those four years, we spent very little time with each other, and when we did get together, we did nothing sexual.

But we always fell into the same slot, in the respect that we could be apart for a long time, yet within five minutes, it was like no time had ever passed between us. We had become friends, and I had fallen in love.

In our 20's, we drifted apart. He ended up in Southern California (I forget how) doing and studying sports medicine (while he was never a great athlete, he loved sports like football and basketball). One day, in early 1990, he calls out of the blue and asks me if I want to move to LA and work for a movie theater. Apparently, he had been help a district manager of Long Beach through some recovery and this guy had talked my friend up about the movie theater business.

Of course, I said yes. It was sad in some ways. While I was excited about the prospect of moving to California, the real idea was to see if we could re-start our relationship, at least the physical part, cause I knew that on the friendship level, we would be fine.

So, I packed up my things and came west, young man. But instead of coming to LA, we ended up in the Bay Area (long, and boring story on how that happened). Anyway, as soon as I got there, I knew things were only going to be friendship based. While he and I felt comfortable around each other -like being naked - anything else appeared to be off limits.

Then I began to hate him then. The way he walked, the way he talked and what not. Still, while I knew I was gay, I had not verbalized those words to anyone. In the almost two years I lived in the Bay Area and visited San Francisco many times by myself, I never explored my gay life. Ironic and very sad, indeed.

After about a year working and living together, he became dissatisfied with his job and was dying to get back into sports medicine. He quit and moved back to the Midwest, ending up in Milwaukee. I stayed in California for another 6 months and moved back to Chicago. During that time, I had very little contact with him, and over 3 years passed before I would see him again.

It was I who found him, working at a school on the south side of Chicago. I met him for lunch and we talked. I told him I was open about my sexuality, I remember that look in his eyes, as he flashed back to all those times we fooled around with each other. But, I’ve never told anyone about those times (until now, but his name is safely anonymous).

I even told him that.

Anyway, that day our relationship changed. After lunch, we went back to the school where he worked. It suddenly struck me that here, in this high school boys locker room, where he was kneading out teenage boys muscles and helping them through whatever physical therapy they needed that he could be hiding in plain sight, so to speak.

Could he be a closet case, unwilling to come out due to his job or himself? Was this the perfect job then for a guy so unsure of whom he liked?

But those questions remained in the air, never to be answered. Almost four years went by, before I tried to contact him, explaining in a letter my feelings for him went beyond friendship.

That I loved him.

We talked on the phone, and I could hear the disbelief in his voice. He said that he did not have those same feelings and that, as a matter of fact, he was getting married in a years time. I was not being invited, as he basically told me that he could not risk me acting all “queeny” at the wedding.

I realized then, after some 25 years of knowing me, he really did not know me. I would’ve never made a scene, but he felt he could not take that risk.

It’s now well over 10 years since I last saw or spoke with him. I don’t know if he really married, I don’t know what’s happened to him, really. Before I moved back to California in the summer of 2005, I tried to find him, but I could not find him without paying a ton of money. But, I think he’s still somewhere in Chicago.

Is he gay, or was he gay? Was our sexual play just “normal” things guys do before setting the “proper” course?

I don’t have those answers.

The thing is, I still love him. I love him for many reasons, beyond him treating normal as kid, even with this pectus excavatum. Our relationship was always based on the fact that we never bull shitted each other and that we always could fall into the same old grind, like trains on a track, no matter how much water had passed under so many bridges.

Even if he came through my door today, and he said he was gay and wanted a relationship, I would say yes.

But, to be honest, all I wish now is that we just had a friendship.

Michelle Malkin: A special kind of idiot

So there's this conversative wing-nut named Michelle Malkin, who, of course, hates liberals and thinks she's better than almost everyone.

Anywho, this nut-job went after a recent Dunkin Donut's ad featuring Rachel Ray wearing a fringed black-and-white scarf that Malkin says offers symbolic support for Muslim extremism and terrorism.

She said in her column that the "scarf" Ray is wearing resembles a kaffiyeh and she wrote "for the clueless, is the traditional scarf of Arab men that has come to symbolize murderous Palestinian jihad. Popularized by Yasser Arafat and a regular adornment of Muslim terrorists appearing in beheading and hostage-taking videos, the apparel has been mainstreamed by both ignorant (and not-so-ignorant) fashion designers, celebrities, and left-wing icons."

In a statement, Dunkin Donuts said the scarf had a paisley design, and was selected by a stylist for the advertising shoot. "Absolutely no symbolism was intended," the company said.

According to Amahl Bishara, an anthropology lecturer at the University of Chicago who specializes in media matters relating to the Middle East, said "I think that a right-wing blogger making an association between a kaffiyeh and terrorism is just an example of how so much of the complexity of Arab culture has been reduced to a very narrow vision of the Arab world on the part of some people in the U.S.," Bishara said in a phone interview. "Kaffiyehs are worn every day on the street by Palestinians and other people in the Middle East - by people going to work, going to school, taking care of their families, and just trying to keep warm."

While some extremists and terrorists may wear kaffiyehs, "To reduce their meaning to support for terrorism has a tacit racist tone to it," Bishara said.

Wow, you know, people like Malkin are xenophobic, rascist ass wipes who should be called on what they claim they think the world should be. They have a narrow, black and white, right and wrong point of view that divides Americans along party lines. Plus, they use their misguided power to convince older Americans, ones who are afriad to ask real, hard hitting questions that terrorist are going to strike at their home tomorrow.

What a useless turd she is.

Minor rant?

When I was a kid, on holidays such as today -Memorial Day - stores closed so people could do what the holiday was meant to be, honor those who gave up their lives to keep America free. You went to a parade, listened to politicians, had picnics and enjoyed the day with family and friends.

Now, it's a day to shop.

Why? Have we become so politically correct that stores have to be open for the people who don't give a hoot for what the holiday means? In that theory, then, should then all stores be open on, say, Christmas? It's a Christian holiday, but there are loads and loads of non-believers, non-christians and agnostics out there who are forced to deal with that holiday and stay home because 90% of stores are closed on that day -drug stores and other convience stores don't count, as that's what they were designed for, which is to be open when the regular store is closed.

We were busy at work, with people coming and going, spending money they don't have on things they really don't need. They wander around enjoying a holiday and probably don't understand, or don't care, what Memorial Day was about.

But big business rukes all these days. Big buisness, in it's mad dash for the God almighty dollar, has deciceded to keep store open just because a small percentage of people might be pissed off that they can't get the lastest Dean Koontz book on Tuesday -not to mention Saturday or Sunday.

Hey, all I'm saying is that maybe being open on a holiday such as Memorial Day is okay, just maybe keep holiday hours, such as 12 to 6. You don't have to be open all fraken day.

Oh well.

Tacking into the Rain

California is not known for its wacky weather. It is, sadly, fairly predictable. But the weather has been a bit odd this week. We started with it being very hot, temps in the upper 90's and low 100's in some areas of the IE.

It's ending with rain, thunder, lightening and much cooler temps.

It rained on and off today -some areas got a lot, while others little. It poured at about 10am this morning at work, the hard rain hitting the roof like concrete. Then it was cloudy, and I think the sun came out for a little while. Going home from work, I drove into more rain, but the added sound of thunder and lightening flashes made it even cooler.

I miss thunderstorms and I'm happy when it does it here. Still, it poured and I'm not complaining at all. Went to dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory with JayTee and Adam, which was nice.

I suggested afdter dinner to go see Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, but the only shows we could've seen were the 10pm ones, and Adam needs to be up at like 4:30 in the morning, so we're planning to go on Sunday. I hope I can hold out until then.

Finally, there is some more fallout regarding Borders and their future. The press has finally gotten wind of our problems and is apparently circling Ann Arbor looking for some bones with some meat left on them. The company released a statement, filled with a lot of big business words and what not that baically boiled down to they're in the process of doing something, but they're not going to say what that is, and will not be making any more statements, because they're going to zip it.

Crap.

Economic stimulus, Tires, a broken window and the heat

When I got my economic stimlas money this past week, I knew what I needed to do. I've been putting it off for a while, if only becaue I knew it was going to be expensive.

Tires. I needed new tires. Well, really only one -the driver side. But I've had the car for 6 1/2 years, and have replaced two out of four tires, whbich left 2 from the original purchase. At 67,000 miles, one was in desperate need of replacement, and the other was still in fairly good condition.

Still, I though, why not replace all of them? I got the $600 and instead of saving it or spending on stupid things like bills, I went an got the tires. So, with the four tires and an alingment, it came to $274 and some change.

Then there was the broken window.

The story is that a few weeks ago my driver side car door just broke. It's the thingy that keeps the door from shutting. Now, the door just opens and I have to be careful, cause it's no longer attached to itself.

So, when the door is wide open, I can lower my window, but because of the broke hinge thingy, when I try to close it the door, the window interferes. So, I have to roll up the window to make sure the door shuts (thus making able only to roll down my window a 1/4 when driving, because it encounters the broken you-know-what.

So, as I was getting my car set for the tires, I thought about mentioning it, but that quickly passed, because I assumed the worker would notice this. Yes, I assumed wrong.

Apparently, they pulled the car in with the window rolled down (because, as mentioned, if the door is not shut all the way, it works). The guy got, and slammed the door, and shattered the glass. It pissed me off, but I knew it was my fault for not telling the guy about it. It cost $143 to get it fixed, so I spent about $515 of that $600.

Jebus, this is the story of my life, a cautionary tale of getting things fixed before something casues it to cost more. Which it still will, as I still need to get the door fixed.

The guy who owned the glass company came over -with his worker- and fixed the window at the Big O Tires. He was this really cute Asian, small and compact. You could tell he took care of his body. His T shirt nearly formed to his body. We talked, I explained my door problem as we watched his worker replace my window.

He said with his money, he woould be out buying clothes, which more or less confirmed to me he was gay. It was not obvious, but my gaydar is pretty good. Sure he was at least 15 years younger than me, but he was hot.

He gave me his buisness card, but I think its only because he wants my business to fix the door. I wonder if I'll go there.

BTW, the heat is on. Started on Thursday and Friday it was over 100 here, and when I got up at 7am this morning, it was already in the mid 70's. It should hit the century mark today again, and probably close to it tomorrow. Then, it should moderate to more easier temps, in the low 80's, which is still above normal.

The heat is early this year, and has already started some brush fires in the Angeles National Forest near here.

To bike or not to bike

I've been torn about riding my bike to work. It's 14 miles to Victoria Garden, and riding my bike usually takes on average, about one hour and 15 minutes and some change. When I work at 7 am (on Monday and Tuesday) I need leave at 5:30am. On days that I would start at 6 am, I would need to be out at 4:30, and that ain't going to happen. Because, during the winter, it's still pitch black outside, and while I have stuff on and a bike light blinking, I sort of do fear for my life. Now that it's getting lighter nearlier, it might be better. But to leave at 4:30 am and ride 80% of that ride in the dark(now, with summer approaching, but in winter, it would be 100%), I just can't seem to do it. Sure, two days a week would save me money on gas and what not, but I fight myself to do this.

Take today, I woke up around 4am with a splitting headache. Felt like someone was using an ice pick and sticking it behind my right eye. So great, I had planned to ride the bike. But I would need to get up in an hour, and there was no way the headache was going to go away. So, I slept until 6 and did my normal things I do to prepare for work.

I felt guilty, as I always do, when it comes to excercise. I'm getting thick around the middle, and I would like to lose it, but I have no ambition anymore.

Still, it was a cloudy and cool day here -though they promise nicer, warmer and hotter weather by Thursday - and as I left work it began to rain. Not a hard one, but enough to get one wet had one had rode their bike this morning and had to ride it agin home. I would've been some what soaked, I guess.

So maybe it was a sign?

Of course, the rain precipitated me getting new wiper blades, something I've avoided for a while. The nice lesbian lady at the Kragen auto parts helped me out of $24 (blades and washer fluid, which I also needed). Of course, I don't know if she was lesbian, but she did fit the profile: tall, fairly apple shaped, with mullet of sorts for hair and walked with a mans gate. It was a profile in stereotyping really, me the queen not really knowing how to change my wiper blades, and here the big, burley lesbian helping me out in 2.4 seconds.

I'm bound to go back, because she was great with the customer service. And I like that.

Movie blah

One my coworkers see's movies all the time. He's pretty open to most thing, meaning he'll watch just any genre. He'll also go and see the films that open on Midnight. Last week he saw Iron Man and last night he saw Speed Racer.

He teases me because, thanks to a housemate who's a GM for Edwards Theaters, I can see movies for free. And I don't. And it's not like I have to go far, as there is huge movie house with in a few minutes walking.

I have yet to see a film in 2008. And probably will not see one until Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull opens in a fortnight.

One of the reasons is that I hate going by myself. Much like eating out -that would be a nice restuarant and not a trip to In 'n' Out - going to the movies by myself is akin to telling the world I'm a single guy who has no hopes of ever getting into a relationship. Funny part of it was that I used to do it all the time when I was younger.

Of course, like everyone else, going to the movies has become a pain. People think only for themselves and the groups of people they go with. They talk like they're in their living rooms. Chat on the phone -despite the nice trailer on the screen asking them to silence them - They use their mobile phones as lights when the fiulm is running, which is annoying.

Talking during the film is also irritating, so that's another strike. Plus, I'm picky. I won't see a movie just because everyone else does. I hate horror films, and is usually turned off by the blockbuster tentpole films the major studios put out.

I do like seeing small, indepentant films, but living here in the suburbs, they don't tend to make it out here, and I'll be damned if I'm going to drive 45 miles into LA to see an art house film.

Finally, I think, with the window between theatrical release and DVD release getting smaller, I would rather wait and rent the one I really want to see.

The sad part, as my co-worker is now understanding, I would rather read than see a film.

May Gray with a little this 'n' that

After a glorious, warm week, that sadly ended on Saturday, Sunday brought a cooler and cloudy skies. Essentially, the May Gray has set in, and is bound to lead to its sequel, June Gloom.

Most of the days now will start cool, and cloudy. The marine layer will usually be deep and reach far into the Inland Empire. On good days, the layer will burn off in the IE by 10 am. And if we're lucky, the coast will see it gone by late morning.

But today was not one of those days. The marine layer stayed most of the day, with the sun just popping out once in a while. This supressed the temps, with the us only getting to 64 -about 12 degrees cooler. By late today, the clouds were starting to pull back towards the ocean, but they'll be back.

Sent mother a CD of music for Mother's Day. I hope see likes it, as she was not so pleased with the selection. It wasn't that she did not like the music, it just was too slow for those long drives they take for vacations. This one has more pop songs, less easy listening, so we'll see.

Work continues to be odd, as the company continues to send messages about saving money. You know, I've been working since 1980, so I 've learned the signs of when your company is doomed: it's when they start worrying about pens, paper and other office products. It's don't order what you don't need; contact other stores in the area to see if they'll go in with an order to get free shipping.

Oh, how the halcyon days are gone. But, spin it Ann Arbor, spin it like a top.

Working it

Work is fustrating.

Why do they resist holding people accountable, when that's all they talk about?

Grrrr.

Saturday in the Life

I have so many plans.

I've got a pile of shirts that need to be ironed. And I hate to iron, but because I care about how I look, I just can't pull the damn things out of the dryer and put them on. I have to iron them. It's my thing.

So, they've been sitting there, just gathering dust, as I had more and more. I wanted to do them today, but after coming back from Starbucks (and talking with a group of "regulars" that go there), I came home.

And suddenly, I didn't want to do them. I thought about going on a bike ride, but as predicted, the on shore breeze made the sun play cat and mouse with clouds, and the cool winds blew strong. I know that's an excuse, and I can deal with that.

I realize I'm motivated by other people. Because I'm limited to friends here -when not filming on HF related productions - I've got no one to push me to do anything. I've got no friends who'll call me up and say, let's go biking. So, I find excuses not to do it.

Bill went off to work, but even he's less motivated than me.

I did finished Company, which turned out nice. I sat outside, in the sun. But because it was also pretty cloudy, when the sun vanished behind a cloud, you could really feel the cool winds. It was distracting, so I came in and finished reading it on the couch.

After grabbing dinner at In & Out (while I love this place, the fast foods name is pretty oxymoronic {?}), I watched the season finale of Torchwood. While this Doctor Who spin-off has not struck a cord with me, I find the show interesting. And season two is, perhaps, better than the uneven first season. Still, I'm unsure how things will be resolved for season three, as Exit Wounds was, as they say in the biz, a shocker. Of course, I may have just made that up.

The heat of Summer in the Spring

Earlier in the week I had been complaining of the cool weather here -very cloudy, breezy with temps below normal. Today, summer rushed in.

It's 85 at 6pm tonight, and the temp had to be in the low 90's. It was just a fabulous day. Went for a bike ride, just to soak up the sun. It's suppose to remain like this through the weekend, before a slow down trend brings temps back to normal.

This day reminds me of Chicago, that seems like LA, to have only two seasons. Chicago never really seems to have a spring. Sure the days get longer, the flowers bloom, but the transition in temps never comes. It goes from cold winds -thanks to a wind off the Lake- to summer heat.

LA seems to be the same-though the old joke comes together as fire and earthquake seasons. Well, at least today gave us the reminder of what is due in just a few short months.

Of course, there is the June Gloom, which more or less means fog and low clouds in the morning, which then should be burned off by 10, giving us warm, but not hot day. The real heat of summer, those days in the 100's do not usually arrive until July. Then they go on, and on and you are sort of wishing for the days that happened earlier in the week.

The world is so complex.

Anyways, tomorrow filming contiues on the stuff for Operation Beat Shield that does not require the Scottish cast from Intrepid. Then on Sunday, I'm off to help JayTee and Carlos with Judas Kiss, as a reading of script with actors gets underway.

I'm thinking I'm a production assistant, cause I'm helping people to get where they need to be, and probably make sure the three cameras set up to film are coving everything that needs to be covered.

And, it seems, there will be a former gay porn (?) star reading one of the roles. That should be interesting...

Rage of old age

I don't know. Maybe I'm getting old, but I feel out of place at a gay bar.

Last night, I went to rage in West Hollywood for Beo's birthday. It looks just like any other gay bar in any nameless city; lots of mood lighting, a cheerless bartender and dance music blasted so high, the dead in Las Vegas can hear it.

While it was a blast to surprise Beo for his birthday -he knew he was coming to Rage, but did not know all of his friends would be there as well - but I felt, I don't know, like a the gay guy that I am, sitting in a roomful nuns. It was odd, very uncomfortable and just weird.

I've never enjoyed gay bars, per se. Especially the real popular ones. Back in Chicago, in Boys Town, there are many bars sandwiched between Addison and Belmont on Halsted. There's Spin and Sidetracks, along with Roscoe's and Hydrate (once known as The Manhole). Those are the most popular, the ones where all the boys are pretty, perfect, thin and probably all size queens. But they're also shallow, overpriced and generally boring if you don't fall into the above slots.

I like Sidetrack, if only because of Showtunes Sunday. Campy? Yes, but also fun.

Big Chicks, up in Andersonville (far north side of the city) is, perhaps, my favorite. You go there to drink, have some fun times with your friends, maybe dance, but you never feel like you have to be on display, like the bars in Boystown. It really has no attitude what so ever.

I've yet to find a place in West Hollywood that even comes close to it.

So, anyways, I just felt old there last night, and I sensed that the bored bartender knew I was from the 'burbs, thus I was, I'm guessing, uninteresting.

Don't get me wrong, I would like to go to gay bars, but I like to go for the conversation, music at a lower level and pretty boys who may not have a 32" waist and spend all their money on hair and face care products.

Then again, as freaky as a leather bar is, I actually find them more fun to go to. I wonder what that says about myself (get the whip out, sister).

Readers of the lost life

I love to read. As a matter of fact, I bring a book with me everywhere. When I go to work, I read between stop lights. Even if I'm traveling on the freeway, I bring a book, if only because here in LA, a traffic jam is never far away.

On weekends, when I'm not filming on Odyssey or Helena Chronicles, I can be found in my Starbucks reading, sipping my way overpriced hot mocha (because I like them hot) and extremely overpriced pastry. Yes, strangely, I find I'm able to get more reading done there, than at home. Go figure. Perhaps, because, I'm easily distracted by the computer or the TV.

The point is, I think, that I once thought I could find someone who liked to read also, that we could have conversations -though I'm not really into those literary works - and spend Siundays on the couch reading.

But these days, I think as author Ariel Levy said, that the goal of a any relationship is “to find somebody where your perversions match and who you can stand.”

So, I guess, I have to let my rope out, and maybe take a chance on someone who hates reading. I'm so wrapped up in finding, what one friend called my "intellectual equal," that I've missed the forest for the trees.

Or, more realistically, I'm destined to be alone.

Sometimes I feel like Burgess Merideth in that Twilight Zone episode Time Enough to Read. That because I read so much, not partaking in the glory of life, that I missed the boat. The plane. The space ship.

What an odd post, David

Monday after last

After last week's annoucement that my company, Borders Books, was up for sale, there has been much speculation from the media and customers wondering what is going to happen.

I came back to work, feeling that this was going to be just another day. After all I should be grateful, really. Going to work and not finding a declaration of bankruptcy was nice. I mean, there is every reason to believe that with in a year, Borders will find its self in two positions. One, a very much smaller company, or two, dead as George Washington.

Still, I'm mad at my company for not learning from its mistakes. Not taking any sort of risks and letting B&N and Amazon.com walk over us like paper laid down for the puppy to piddle on.

Plus, the company has watered down the store so much, there is nothing interesting about the bookstore anymore. It’s like someone power washing an alley; it’s become pointless. Granted, that's much like what has happened to America in general, from TV to movies to Wal Marts and Cosco's.

They can spin this latest move -those goofballs in Ann Arbor, I mean - but everyone has lost confidence with Borders. Investors, customers and, sadly, employees are much aware that this company, the one I actually still like working for, has no idea, no plan to rescue it.

Maybe it should die. But, then that would be more sad than anything.

Sleep

I beginning to wonder if I suffer from some sort of sleep disorder.

I cannot remember when I’ve slept through the entire night. I have no problem falling asleep. I usually nod off, like most people, within 10 minutes of turning out the light. I then sleep very deeply, very soundly, going into REM and everything.

Then, maybe four hours later, I wake up. And then, I can’t get back to sleep. Oh, well, I sleep, but not as deep as before, and it usually falls under the “cat napping.” I fall asleep, then wake up within fifteen to twenty minutes.

This will go on until I get up at 5am. And that’s another thing, I always wake before my alarm is scheduled to come on. I guess, it could be some psychological thing, as I fear that I will oversleep and be late for work.

So I wonder, just what makes me sleep for such a short period of time. I once thought it had to do with my sugar and caffeine intake, but I make sure I cut it out over three hours before I go to bed ( because I know if I have chocolate or even a soda before I go to bed, I cannot sleep).

Even on weekends, I rarely get a full nights sleep, so I usually get by on a little over 5 hours sleep a day, though on a rare day, I’ll get caught up with maybe 7 hours.

I do have a lot of stress, but none more than most. I worry about money the most, but so does everyone else. So, I wonder what prevents me from sleeping from the time the lights go out, until the alarm (as it should) wake me up.