Hot Sweaty Monkey Love evahbody

T

There is just something organic about the sound of a needle touching the grooves on a vinyl LP that can't be matched. That crisp distinct ear full that you get when you play a platter on a turntable. I remember the careful handling of vinyl LPs...holding them only in your palms by the edges, gently wiping them off in a circle with a soft cloth, and gingerly placing the needle on the black strip before the tune you wanted to hear.

We are listening to "Giant" by Johnny Guitar Watson. Truly one of the genius artists of the 70's. We are dusting off some old vinyl LPs and giving them a spin.

Settling down to a nice evening listening to the croon and crackle of some vinyl. Sublime.



This is how one looks immediately after waking up in the morning after some heavy partying and heavy application of hair products the night before.



We filled up a kiddie pool intended for the pups to play in this afternoon. Marc and I were very amused. Rex was slightly amused. Gracie was not amused in the least and thought the idea sucked. Oh well.

*****Johnny Guitar Watson "Gangster of Love"

blog layouts

Really lazy day at the ol' Dog House today. I slept until almost 11 and didn't even get dressed until 2. I farted around with the layout on my MySpace site for hours. That's the kind of day it was. I basically did nothing, but I think my body was telling me to just chill out today. I took one of Misty's chill pills.

So...we are headed to the Starlight Drive-In to have a picnic in the back of the truck and watch The Omen with Chanda and Rob. The Starlight is a renovated 1950's drive-in, themed out really kistchy. This will be cool.



Bon Soir, Yall!

******Beastie Boys "So What'Cha Want"

I'm truly blessed. I just forget that I am blessed sometimes. My life has never been directly touched by outwardly or inwardly concocted homophobia. I forget sometimes that I have gay brothers and sisters that still grapple with ignorance, fear, and intolerance and therefore struggle with themselves...and as a result beat, bash, and malign themselves.

 Living in intown Atlanta, I have never experienced the slings and arrows. Possessing a demeanor, general mannerism, and physical attributes similar to the love child of Billy Bob Thronton and Gavin from Bush, I've never been outwardly pegged as a "fag". My family has always been supportive and proud of me.

When I read stories about gay bashings, hate crimes, and socio-political intolerance toward my gay brothers and sisters, I sympathize but have always felt disconnected from it...as if I was hearing news of a famine or typhoon that occured in a remote part of the world...far removed from my realm.

I feed myself daily on the delicious casserole made from the recipe passed down by my forebears. I get to wine and dine outside the doors of the hot kitchen where my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters have cooked for decades.

1) I did not protest proudly like the men in a suit and tie or the women in a smart dress like the Matachine Society of the 1950's and risk death threats.

2) I did not cry "I am mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore" and confront the New York police during the Stonewall Riots of the 1960's.

3) I did not bravely and proudly and loudly walk among the first glorious and colorful high steppin', high profilin', high campin', shock-your-shit-awake, "enfant terrible" marchers in the first Pride Parades in the 1970's.

4) I was not vilified, singled out, beaten, or murdered in the backlash of the 1980's and 90's.

I did not earn my Gay Scout medals like these brave men and women did. I am blessed to be among the first generation of gay men and women that rests on the laurels of those fearless angels.

I hope all my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters, during the upcoming Pride Week that we now know as The Big Ass Gay Party, corporately sponsored now by all the big corporate sponsor types, take a moment to give props to the men and women that paved that path and sacrificed for us.

Our mayor Shirley Franklin marches every year in the Pride Parade on Sunday. She is also on the board of the Atlanta chapter of the Human Rights Campaign...she's an angel to the gay community in Atlanta.

http://www.hrc.org/

Gracie and Rex trying out their Pride collars for the parade next week. Atlanta city ordinances no longer allow dogs into the park after the parade during "class A" festivals like Pride. Boo to that stupid law. We are thinking about taking them anyway. They are our kids and behave better than most human types, dammit.

Today I faced one of my greatest fears. I went into a restaurant by myself...all by myself. Not to wait for someone to join me...just by myself.

When I am on the road by myself...I'm take out guy. I won't sit at a table by myself. I won't subject myself to the dreaded greeting at the hostess desk..."table for......one?"

Walking into bars (straight ones) by myself is different for some reason. If I can breeze in and sit at the bar alone...I'm comfortable and can strike up conversations and be cool and usually end up having fun.

When I was single and on the make, walking into gay bars by myself was always fraught with a similar anxiety that I felt when I went from elementary school to junior high school. "These kids are so cool and hot"..."Am I wearing the right jeans"..."Am I wearing the right shoes"..."Is my hair cut right"..."Am I hot".

I even used to evaluate along the same line when walking into the uber hyper macho "meat rack" gay bars like the Eagle. I would drive myself freaking crazy thinking stuff like "Am I holding my beer too girly"..."Am I smiling too much"..."Am I acting manly enough"..."Am I looking too desperate"..."Is my T shirt tight enough or too tight and should it be tucked in or out"..."Am I wearing the right jeans"..."Am I wearing the right shoes"..."Is my hair cut right"..."Am I hot".

Where in the world is this going? I have no freaking idea.

Ok...just for shits and giggles...let's go here. Let's take this silly little post into the "How Me and Marc Met In Of All Places a Seedy Gay Bar" territory. No...wait...let's take it to the next post.

I have the attention span of a Post-It Note and am already bored with the length of this post.

Anyway, in labyrinth navigation and conclusion....I walked into Ru Sans by myself this afternoon 'cause I was craving sushi and couldn't scare up a soul to join me, sat at the sushi bar by myself and gorged myself on shishami and nigiri like a freak. Twas cool.

*****Johnny and Rosanne Cash "The Road To Kaintuck"