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Archive for the ‘neighborhood’ Category

Taken Away

My neighbor texted to let me know three police cars were at the home of the troubled woman who lives with her parents around the corner.  A second text advised she was taken away unrestrained in the back of one of the police cars.  I can’t help but wonder if she would have been shot or handcuffed if she were black. 

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I hit that galleries by myself on Friday night.  I needed a break from Bart and his negativity.  I often wonder how he has a desire to keep living given his bleak look on life, society, his job and the future of our planet. 

I was asked two times where my boyfriend was during my gallery tour.  Both times I explained that Bart was just a friend and we were not involved.  It seems people assumed Bart and I are a couple given we attend so many gallery openings together.  I guess there could be worse things people could assume about me.

Saturday morning I ran into Mrs. N at the grocery store.  We hadn’t seen much of each other even though we live on the same street.  Pandemics can have that effect on neighborly relationships.  We had a nice conversation in dairy aisle.  Mrs. N told me she heard I had a new boyfriend who has a Lamborghini.  I told Mrs. N that Bruce was not by boyfriend and, in fact, I’m still single.  At least she didn’t remark on the age difference.  Mrs. N did extend one of those vague invitations to come over for cocktails sometime. 

Two very handsome men in my life but neither one is right for me.  The search continues.

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I seem to have been in a pandemic funk.  Nothing seemed to be important.  No motivation to post.  Who could possibly want to read about my life, which, I suspect is not relatable to most people?  A life of extreme white privilege but still seems to be lacking.  A career nearing an end.  An aging gay man who may be single the rest of his life.  An insignificant life.

And then on Memorial Day, one of my neighbors hung himself in the garage of his $4m house.  The forty-year-old man left behind a wife and two children who were in the house at the time.  Two weeks later the wife had a double mastectomy. 

Learning this tragic news catapulted me out of my funk.  I can’t explain why learning of someone else’s tragedy made me feel better about my life.  It just did.

While I didn’t know the family, they depicted a version of the American dream.  A stunningly beautiful mid-century inspired home which is one of the new architectural gems in the neighborhood.  Very expensive cars in the driveway with kids playing in the yard, which, always seems to be manicured to perfection.  It looked like a perfect life, yet, something was terribly wrong.  Now the dream has turned into a nightmare.

Surely, this man knew about his wife’s illness.  If the wife doesn’t survive cancer the children will be orphaned.  How could he kill himself knowing that his children could eventually be orphaned?  I know my questions don’t make sense as I don’t know the catalyst for the suicide. 

Last Sunday, Bruce showed up at my house with a Lamborghini Huracan he had rented for the weekend.  We got coffee at nearby locally-owned coffee shop before driving around the neighborhood looking at houses.  We stopped at a birthday party being thrown for three 10-year-old boys a few houses down the street from my house.  The young boys went crazy over the car.  The moms swooned over Bruce.  Bruce gave each of the birthday boys a ride in the Lambo.  The boys were so excited to ride in the car.

The next day, my neighbor who hosted the party, stopped by to thank me.  She told me the Lambo rides made the day special.  It was especially memorable for one of the boys who is the son of the man who killed himself.  She told me the boy can’t stop talking about the car and how much fun he had because, “Bruce drove really fact and made the car roar”.  She said the boy has been so sad but snapped out of it because of the ride in the Lambo. Knowing this warmed my heart.

So an ostentatious display of wealth helped a young boy snap out of sadness for a while.  Perhaps my life isn’t as insignificant as I thought.

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The Exposure

I hit the galleries by myself last Friday.  I needed a break from Bart.  I get tired of hearing his misogynistic opinions and insulting comments about rich people.  I saw some great art in the two hours I was out of the house.

I worked in the yard most of Saturday afternoon.  My neighbor, Mrs. D., stopped to chat with acceptable social distance since I was not wearing a mask.  She invited me for cocktails at 5.  Being a psychiatric nurse, she managed to work the high rate of suicide by single men into the conversation.  I assured her I was fine and would see her, and her husband, at 5 for socially-distanced cocktails.

I came into the house around 3.  I had a notification on my iPhone advising I may have been exposed to Covid on March 19, which was two weeks after my first vaccine shot.  I called Mrs. D. to cancel cocktails due to my possible exposure.  Just before 5, my doorbell rang.  Mrs. D. was at my side door holding a silver tray of hors d’oeuvres and a gin and tonic.  Since I couldn’t come for cocktails, she brought the party to me.  Such a nice gesture!  She set the tray on the side porch and scurried across the street to greet arriving guests who have been fully vaccinated.

I sat on the porch enjoying a very refreshing gin and tonic and hors d’oeuvres while googling quarantine protocol for exposure after the first vaccine shot.   Google can be a blessing and a curse.  Search results supported 7, 10 and 14 day quarantines.  I was already on day 8 so I decided to go with 12 days since I have no symptoms. 

While I’m grateful for the notification, it seems odd that it came 8 days after the exposure.  I guess it depends upon when the person self-reports the Covid diagnosis.  I’m also grateful I’m not sick.  I only left the house on the 19th to attend two socially-distanced gallery openings with a handful of other patrons.  I’m guessing that’s when it happened. 

Quarantine has allowed me to skip the gym without feeling guilty.  Just a few more days and I’ll be back at it.  In the meantime, I have plenty of yard work to keep me busy.

Scottie Burgess, Brand Power, extruded polystyrene and paint. Seen at Pirate Contemporary Art.

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Sexy Garage Door

Isn’t this the sexiest garage door you’ve ever seen?  It matches the front door and other wood accents on this house which has been under construction for 18 months.  Everything seems to be custom on the house which helps explain why the project is taking so long to finish.

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Another Scrape

Here’s another 1950’s ranch house that’s getting scraped.  The house, which sits on a half-acre, was only marketed as a tear down.  The asking price was $2m.  The property sold rather quickly and has been sitting empty.  I’m guessing the new house will be at least 8,000 sq. ft. 

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Monday Cheer

A little bit of holiday cheer for a Monday morning. These trees are on the gay guy’s east lawn. They are very striking.

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Another Dream House

A young couple paid $3m for this sprawling 1950’s house on an acre lot.  The house will be scraped to make way for their dream home.  The new house will be 14,000 sq. ft. with underground garage, a pool and a guest house of yet undetermined size.  The surrounding neighbors are upset about the underground garage.  I wonder why they would rather see an eight car garage above grade. 

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LA texted this morning inviting CJ and me to one last get together at Bruce’s apartment before Bruce’s move into his new townhouse on Monday.  LA surprised Bruce by taking the red eye this morning from LAX.  Yesterday, Bruce seemed down as he didn’t know when LA would be back in town.  I’m sure Bruce is elated. Before LA arrived, I had texted Bruce offering to help pack today.  Luckily, Bruce hired concierge movers so he has people to take care of everything.   

It’s a beautiful sunny day here yet I’m feeling down.  There are million things I could be doing but I have no motivation.  I put a play list on earlier which included a lot of Joy Division and The Cure.  Joy Division is one of my favorite bands but the music tends to be dark. Perhaps I subconsciously sabotaged my day.  I switched over to a more uplifting 80’s playlist.  It’s the music of one of the happiest, yet darkest, times of my life. 

I walked around the neighborhood last night after Bart went home.  There’s an amazing number of houses with holiday lights this year.  Not surprisingly, the large homes in the western section of the neighborhood have the best displays.  The beer heir and his husband have outdone themselves this year.  On the way home, I rounded a bend in a street where every house was lit up.  It’s a half circle street so as I walked a new display was slowly revealed. It was so cheerful I almost cried.  It put me in a great mood.

Yet, today I’m down, even though a 23-year-old grad student at DU hit me up on Scruff again this morning. There seems to be no end to the nudes he will send me.  I find it amusing so I haven’t blocked him.  I’ve told him I’m not interested as having one twenty-something in my life is enough, even though our relationship is now platonic.  The more I tell him no, the more he seems to be interested.  Coincidentally, the guy is one of CJ’s FWBs, which, to me, means he’s off limits.  There also seems to be some odd rivalry between the grad student and Bruce. And then there’s the 40-year age difference.  At times, this is a really small town. 

I need to pull myself out of this mood before this evening.  I have a workout reservation at 5 which should help.  A post-workout protein shake and shower before heading to Bruce’s for a take-out dinner will also help.  I’m sure the evening will include joints and tequila shots. The responsible me will kick in, making me hold back, so I don’t overindulge causing me to Uber home alone drunk to an empty house. 

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Is It Too Soon?

On my walk around the neighborhood tonight I saw two houses decorated for the December holidays.  At first, I thought it was a bit early given Thanksgiving is still two weeks away.  In years past, the unofficial local custom has been to wait until after Thanksgiving before displaying holiday decorations.  But then I thought about it for the rest of my walk.  This year has been floating dumpster fire of havoc.  Perhaps my neighbors simply need some cheer in their life so they put up the lights.  The lights did make smile on a day that has been less than uplifting.  They are like a beacon of hope signaling things are going to get better.  I need things to get better.

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