Archive for December, 2018

Something To Ponder

I found this while surfing the net the other day. It’s a still from Queer As Folk. It’s something to ponder if you’re looking back on 2018 and planning for 2019. You may be going to a rough patch but it will get better. And there’s always another person who has tougher circumstances. Have a great one. See you in 20109.

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Friday Night Art

I stopped by Pirate Contemporary Art for the opening of their group show. Here are a few of my favorites.

Lisa Fernandez, You Can’t Go Home Again, oil on Canvas, $1,600.

Louis Recchia, Wounded Angel, oil on canvas, $1,200.

Tsogo Mijig, Inception, acrylic on canvas, $1,850.

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The Good And The Bad

This morning, I dropped a check off at the non-profit that provides services for the homeless youths in the area. It’s something I’ve been doing for the last few years. While I was there, the fire department and an ambulance arrived to aid a man who I thought was sleeping on the sidewalk. One of the non-profit workers thought the man froze to death last night. I didn’t stick around to find out. I’m hoping the man was not dead. If so, it will probably be on the local news tonight. I should have given them more money.

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Naughty Or Nice?

I hope you have a festive holiday. Were you naughty or nice?

Dale Mitchell (American 1957 to 1989) untitled, marker on paper, 12 x 8, private collection.

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Solstice Dinner

I’ve been invited to my neighbor’s solstice dinner tonight. It’s a sit-down dinner for ten with the promise of tasty food and plenty of liquor. After dinner, the group will gather around the chiminea on the rear terrace for conversation. Some will enjoy cigars and scotch while others will probably have Champaign. It should be a fun time to end the work week and begin the holiday celebrations.

Happy Solstice!

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Marry Well, Divorce Better

I had an interesting chat with the detective las night. He called to tell me he was given an award from a civic institution for his contributions along with being the guest of honor at a luncheon. His husband didn’t attend either event.

The detective is in the final round of negotiating a compensation package for his new job. He’ll have a bonus structure equal to 1.5 times his new hefty salary along with a company vehicle. The detective seems to be a skilled negotiator. It’s good to know that a man in his mid-sixties can be in demand, and not, be forced out to pasture for being perceived as past his prime. The extra income will come in handy when it comes time to pay support to his future ex-husband. The husband only makes $30k a year so I’m sure he’ll be requesting monthly payments. One could say his husband married well and is divorcing better.

In other failed relationship news, Mike finally paid off his ex. They were never married but the ex was making his life miserable. The payment along with a legal agreement was to shut him up and make him go away. From what I gathered from our conversation, the check was a very sizable amount. His ex is still unemployed but is now attending massage therapist school. He’s moving from a studio to a two bedroom apartment now that he’s flush with cash. I’m sure the ex will blow through the money in no time.

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Just A Mutt

Morgan, the relentless bargain hunter, found a two for one deal for Ancestry’s DNA test. Morgan’s husband had previously had his DNA tested, but frugal Morgan declined to do so as he didn’t want to pay $99. Morgan asked me if I wanted test my DNA. I’d been thinking about it for a while so I agreed.

I got my test results on Saturday. Morgan’s has yet to be processed, which is strange given we mailed our kits on the same day from the same mailbox. I even mailed mine six hours later than Morgan.

Growing up, I always thought I was mostly of German descent. All of my relatives on my dad’s side of the family have German surnames. My mother always insisted she was French with a little bit of English thrown in. My mother has very French surname and insisted all her children take French in high school.

The results didn’t agree with my parents. I’m a true mutt. My DNA is 48% English and Welsh, 24% German, 16% Irish and Scottish, 10% French and 2% Norwegian. I called my father to share the results. He was surprised by the findings. I asked if he wanted to do a DNA test. He quickly declined my offer to pay for the test. I found his reluctance surprising. Is he hiding something?

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It’s the end of the day. The end of the weekend. I’ve been in bed for two hours. I haven’t felt well all day. Morgan had a dinner party last night. He served a vegetarian meal as the guest of honor had many dietary restrictions, which made a vegetarian meal the best option. Something he served didn’t agree with me. I took the bed in mid-afternoon in the hope that a nap would make me feel better. I do feel better now that I’m up.

Morgan met a guy he took an interest in. Morgan wants to build up his friend base but I got the impression the Morgan may have had more in mind given his partner has several men on the side. The man was the guest of honor last night. The man is an artist. I met the artist in passing a few years ago. I know the man’s work which is stellar. He’s one of the established heavy weights of the local art community which is one of the reasons I was invited to dinner.

A post-mortem about the dinner this morning with Morgan revealed there was too much talk about art last night. The guest of honor commanded the conversation for most of the night. I had an excellent time as I love talking to artists and talking about art. Morgan was not as pleased as I was. Morgan has decided not to continue to pursue a friendship with the man.

In other news, I spent time on Temptation Island on Friday night. The detective and I saw Bohemian Rhapsody after work. A late dinner followed the movie. The detective’s husband saw the movie with his boyfriend and another man in spite of the fact he had promised to go with the detective. Over dinner, the detective told me his husband has asked for a divorce. His husband has great timing given the detective has accepted a new position with another firm which will double his salary. I’m guessing the husband will ask for support given he only makes $30k a year and has lived a cushy life thanks to the detective. I listened but offered no advice or opinions. After dinner we called it a night. We didn’t drop trou.

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Friday night was cold and misty with low temperatures and a promise of snow. The few gallery opening didn’t seem promising. I stayed home and cleaned my living room and dining room. I was tempted to text the detective but I chose not seek temptation. Another chapter in the life of an urban gay man. Doesn’t that sound like a fun time for a single guy on Friday night?

Saturday was cold again. I managed to clean the kitchen and family room, put up a few holiday decorations, hit the gym and fix a nice dinner. After dinner, I was once again thinking about the detective but managed to avoid texting him. It was best he stay on his side of town. It was to be another Saturday night of Netflix. At least I had a clean house with some holiday cheer even if I was to only one to enjoy it.

This morning, my neighbor, Sheila, dropped off an extra copy of the New York Times that had been delivered to her house. Sheila told me she decided to splurge on a housekeeper in the coming year. She was disappointed to find out the cheapest service was $500 a week, which covered the cost of four maids for two hours. When did housekeepers’ salaried rise to over $60 per hour? Sheila has a three bedroom house with three bathrooms just at 3,000 square feet. It seems to be another case of price gouging. People assume if you live in a neighborhood where all the new homes come with seven figure price tags, you have the same income as those building expensive homes. Granted most of the existing residents are sitting on a pile of equity as a result of a relentless rise in house prices in the central city neighborhoods. I’m guessing few can afford to pay $2,000 a month to have a house cleaned.

Sheila decided not to hire the housekeeper. She will continue to clean her house as I do. Instead, she’ll splurge at Nordstrom.

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The Impact Of AIDS

Fran Lebowitz wrote a piece entitled, “The Impact Of AIDS On The Artistic Community”, which was published in the New York Times on September 13, 1987. Her experiences mimicked what I experienced at the same time, only I was living in Dallas and the names and occupations were different. My life was consumed by sick and dying friends, along with attending funerals or memorial services every week. Hit the link below to give it a read. She gives it her usual humorous spin.

Click to access THE%20IMPACT%20OF%20AIDS%20ON%20THE%20ARTISTIC%20COMMUNITY.pdf

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