Ah June, all rainbows and boas and every day it seems another U.S. state decides that bans on marriage equality are, well, unconstitutional. Yay us! We’re so awesome.
Truly, let’s not forget other parts of the world, where living as an open LGBT-type person is either a huge struggle or plain illegal. Iran, Nigeria, Uganda . . . Russia.
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I don’t know what to do about it, but I do know that keeping silent about it is most certainly the wrong answer.
During this season of pride, lets not forget our brothers and sisters in Russia.
I sold my car on June 7, 2013. I can hardly believe it’s been a year. Some of what I’ve learned:
this. . . has changed into. . .
That I could really do this, that I could really live (and for a year!) in Los Angeles, California, without owning a car, and survive and thrive.
how stressful driving is; I didn’t really realize this before I got rid of the car, and it became clear to me because I felt so much calmer not having to worry about the car, about traffic or parking or road ragers or whatever it was.
That strangers speak to each other in public space, this is all lost when people are closed up in their cars– and we’re poorer for it.
. . . this
The pros:
biggest one is saving money! My car cost approximately $400 a month to own and operate, and I had a relatively cheap one – a Scion XA 2005.
I stayed very lean and healthy with all the walking and biking I’ve done, and will continue to do.
I read on buses and trains – so I’ve gotten a lot more reading done. I have a Nook and the Kindle app – so I’ve joined the Dark Side, though I still love book-books.
There are cons, so what are they:
From where I live (Valley Village) it takes forever to get to the beach on public transport. I’m really looking forward to the finishing of the Expo Line to Santa Monica, though even that will take time. It’s a long way regardless. Not that I go there every day or even every month, but I want it to be easy, when it’s not. Even if you have a car.
There are crazy, insane people, and lots of them, on public transportation and there’s just no way around that. It’s messy. You learn to spot them and stay clear.
Los Angeles is so big, while there are always public transport options for almost anywhere you want to go, it could take you forever because of all the transfers you have to make. For instance, next week I have to go to Santa Monica for a business meeting. It will take 3 buses and nearly two hours to get there from where I live. I’ll make it a day trip and work/hang out there all day, coming back at night. Again, this isn’t a trip I make very often at all. This kind of trip might make more sense to Zipcar or Uber (notice how I’m using those words as verbs??)
Finally, I have to remember to acknowledge the middle class privilege part of the car-free equation: I’ve CHOSEN to do this, not need to financially: rediscovering the conveniences and problems of public transport is something poor people have no choice but to acquaint themselves with daily. Then again, it’s not “slumming” for a year, this is a permanent change (at least as long as I live where I do), for financial, health, environmental and just plain “keeping my sanity” reasons. Still, let’s not forget that half the people I see on the trains and buses would likely die and go to heaven to sit behind the wheel of their own nice car in gridlocked freeway traffic (with the AC on, of course).
Must go now – have to pack the saddlebag and get off to work.
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Today I’m sharing another small biography of one of the main characters in my in-process novel “Kept.” I refer back to these quite frequently when writing a character; I’ve found that it really helps them come to life for me. Hope you find it helpful/entertaining. Writers, please feel free to use the categories to invent your own characters.
Jorge Gomez: This is his legal name. He’s changed it, anglicized it (effectively, or so he thinks, into George Gomes). (When I think of George physically, I think of the marvelous Mexican actor Gael Garcia Bernal.)
Gael Garcia Bernal
Sex: Male; age 26, height and weight: 5-6, 140.
Coloring: Black hair, brown eyes, light brown skin.
Appearance: he’s got good posture, he’s very attractive when he wants to be, it’s like a transformation from a campesino to a hot latino gay man! He’s lean and muscular. He works at being attractive, which is different from Connor Hurst who just naturally exudes sex.
Heredity: Mexican = mestizo, but looks more European than Indian, a little different from his siblings. They’re from Jalisco state, the Guadalajara area. Sociological:
Class: from lower working class migrant workers, illegal immigrants.
Occupation: He’s done farm work; when he realized he was gay and good-looking he figured out he could use that to rise above. George is looking for a mentor to help him decide on an “anglo-style” career. His first “gay” job in Palm Springs is as a barback. He works a second job washing old queen’s heads at a hair salon—in addition to the work he does for the Greco & Greco company.
Education: It’s been sporadic. Learning good English is a priority, and he’s pretty good, except for occasional slip-ups. He’s a smart kid. He has a Mexican accent. But, he’s studied a lot of English at night, especially by watching American soap operas. He loves geology, because no matter what happens, the rocks will be here (so he loves the geography in and around Palm Springs.)
Home Life: It was horrible in Mecca, CA! The family lives in a trailer. He’s abandoned them and they are angry, mad as hell. They’ve sent a brother, a cousin, to find him. Both parents are alive, yes! Father (estranged) works in the fields in eastern Coachella and Imperial Valley. Mother sometimes too, but she is sick a lot. Of course, there’s no health insurance. It’s squalor, but better than it was in Mexico. Just barely. Father drinks some, but not ridiculously a lot. He doesn’t live there, which is good, and Alma (mother) is always scheming, trying to escape this life. So far she hasn’t figured out how.
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They are very religious, a very Catholic family, and consult the priest a lot. Jorge was an altar boy and is heavily influenced by the legacy of Catholicism.
Place in Community: He’s an outsider in the gay community. White gays see him as either a low income laborer, or a sex object, or some combination of the two but he’s immediately pigeonholed and finds it VERY frustrating. He’s angry about that. He’s also not an American citizen and constantly afraid of being deported: he’s an illegal.
Political affiliations: He can’t vote. He’d side with Republicans, which puts him at odds with Connor and almost every other gay person in PS. Why? People in his family liked George W. Bush (although that’s hard to fathom) and he’s absorbed that.
Amusements: He likes hiking the mountain (his interest in rocks) also he’s interested in movies. He likes taking care of himself and learning how to be an American, which is his great interest. Psychological:
Sexuality: he’s gay exclusively. He’s a bottom to Connor’s top. He’s had lots of furtive teen experiences with other Mexican boys but he’s pretty new to the gay community, pretty green and too trusting. He likes to please. He learns fast.
Personal premise, ambition: He’d like the stereotypical American dream of material success. He’s never even been remotely close to that. Beyond that, a lover/partner to look up to.
Frustrations, disappointments: he’s not learning English fast enough or becoming American fast enough. He’s ashamed of his parents and his siblings. He doesn’t mention them if he can avoid it.
Temperament: Mostly even, but he does have a latin temper if provoked. He’s friendly, a little naïve. Somewhat secretive.
Attitude toward life: he’s optimistic about his future. He wants to forget and bury the past.
Complexes: Obsessed somewhat with labels and branding. He’s very materialistic and he and Connor do get along on that point. He’s quite anti-Catholic if pressed. He believes in ghosts and spirits that haunt the mountains around Palm Springs, and he has that in common with the tribe.
Extrovert/introvert: He’s much quieter than Connor. A bit shy. Conniving.
Abilities: He speaks two languages (Spanish and English). He’s good at playing soccer. People feel sorry for him like a puppy and that’s their downfall.
Qualities: Not the best judge of gay men, as he is not practiced. His “picker” is not seasoned. He has very bourgeois taste, which Connor tries to help. He’s got more poise than most Mexicans “just off the ranch,” thus his ability to “pass” in Palm Springs’ white gay community. Plus, he’s cute.
IQ: he’s every bit as smart as Connor, just not as overtly devious—but covert, watch out.
I originally moved to Los Angeles in 1981, and the first neighborhood I lived in was Echo Park, just off Echo Park Avenue on Effie Street. Most of my initial impressions of what L.A. and Southern California were like emanated from my experiences there, as I had no other frame of reference.
So, when I wrote “The Forest Dark” 30 years later, I was really happy to set some scenes there. Here’s a quick video of those locations. There’s more to come — many other neighborhoods and landmarks appear in “The Forest Dark,” and I hope to visit them all with my camera.
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Desert windmills and a Connor Hurst-esque character
Today I’m sharing my small biography of one of the main characters in my in-process novel “Kept.” I refer back to these quite frequently when writing a character; I’ve found that it really helps them come to life for me. Hope you find it helpful/entertaining. Writers, please feel free to use the categories to invent your own characters.
His name is Connor Hurst. Physical: 32, White Male. 5-10, 170, dark brown hair, blue eyes. He’s quite muscular, yet hungry looking rather than buff. A stunner! Stands up straight, and he has a swagger. Connor’s fastidious about appearance and perhaps a little vain. He has no defects – at least physically.
Heredity: he is from a WASPy stock, let’s say Scotch/Irish, more Irish, but like everyone he’s a mutt. Will have heart disease problems — if he lives that long.
Social:
Class: White Trash!
Occupation: Connor’s a con man. He’s had various “normal jobs” but had to quit them when he realized how “demeaning” they were. Always involved in off the books type of economy – he’s been a gigolo, escort, drug dealer, bookmaker, small-time theft when absolutely necessary.
Education: Connor’s a high school drop out. He thinks that school is for suckers. But he’s very smart, very street-smart and he can and does read.
In school, he had an attitude problem and was so self-centered.
Home Life: his parents are alive but he’s estranged from them. He often lies to new acquaintances about where he’s from. Originally, it was Little Rock, Ark. Of course, parents are also white trash. Father (Gregory Hurst) is alcoholic, mother (Violetta Gamble) is also a small-time crook. Father provided little guidance and little support. Odd jobs always. Mother was a domestic, she worked in hotels. Now she’s a drug dealer. Has one full-blooded brother Locker Hurst, and one half-brother Duane Gamble. Connor got beat up all the time. His father eventually abandoned the family, and is in Texas or Mexico or dead. They don’t really know.
Religion: Protestant. Southern Baptist.
Race: White, Scotch/Irish.
Place in Community: He has none. Connor Hurst is the ultimate outsider and relishes this and hates it at the same time.
Politics: He avoids politics, but would not trust politicians from either party.
Amusements and hobbies: He likes to gamble. When he goes to casino meetings with the tribe in Palm Springs, he always stops at the tables. He reads the newspaper. Knows how to work a computer as a means for his ends. He likes to shoot things—with guns—target practice. He goes out into the high desert to do that.
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Psychology:
Sex life: Connor prefers men but can be convincingly bisexual when it serves his needs, and can get around a woman pretty easily; after all, he has that charisma.
Personal premise, his ambition: is to have lots of money and ultimately control over his life, and have no one ever fuck him over again or outsmart him. He’d like his “own private island” and would like to buy it.
Temperament: He’s a cocky, occasional jokester type. He’s manipulative but his intelligence shines through.
Attitude to life: Connor thinks he will prevail and is very confident. Perhaps too much.
Complexes: He’s afraid of heights. He’s prejudiced against the Indians, has his fair share of usual white trash prejudice and racism—although he is smitten with Jorge (George), at least in a sexual way. He stuttered as a child. Connor’s still embarrassed about it and angry about the tease, or being teased for anything. He’s an extrovert.
Other abilities: He’s very quick, witty. Speaks some Spanish. Can lie very convincingly. Obviously, knows how to operate a gun—any kind of gun. Knows how to fight with his fists or other handy objects. He’s had some martial arts training.
Other qualities: Can easily judge anyone and “read” them. Doesn’t have a lot of imagination beyond the “get me some money” thing – about what his life could be – hasn’t got that far.
IQ: High. He’s highly intelligent, just not traditionally schooled.
Check back for more bios. The book, “Kept,” will be released near the end of the year.
Christopher Isherwood (l) and Don Bachardy in the late ’70s.
The heart wants what the heart wants, as do other body parts. So, if you find yourself on the cusp of an intergenerational adult romance, here are some tips for dating that more mature gay man:
Earlier is better. When they coined that phrase, “old and tired,” they weren’t kidding about the tired part. Not quite sure why or how it happens, but most people of my age group (50s-60s) are in their jammies winding down most nights by 10. (there are always exceptions, but my anecdotal survey confirms this)
Go ahead and approach, don’t wait for him to do it if you’re a younger appreciating an older. Our culture is rife with nasty ageism, and he will be hesitant unless he knows you’re bound to be receptive to an interest. He’d love it to be approached.
Don’t make all your interactions with texts or facebook messages, please. Use the phone to, you know, actually talk. I have one friendship with a 20-something guy where it’s always text, never voice, which to me feels totally alien.
Don’t expect him to have the same priorities or interests as you do. Expect him, at some point, to reference why it is that there’s not tons and tons of men of similar age around for you to ogle — that’s right, the Plague Years. You won’t want to hear this, it’s all very sad — but it’s a big part of his life and something you should know about your history.
Expect his friends to think of you as a golddigger or other kind of lowlife, at least at first, and you’ll have to earn their trust, even if that is perhaps unfair.
Expect your friends to think you’ve gone insane and to say things like “what could you possibly see in that old man?” which is also unfair. Have your answer ready.
He’ll likely expect to always pay, at least initially. Surprise him by not letting that always happen.
Realize that following up and actually doing what you said you were going to do will loom large in his book, in other words, don’t be a flake, it’s hard enough introducing you to everyone as his nephew.
Afternoon delight is a very good thing. They even wrote a song about it. He’s much more likely to want to fool around when he’s got the energy and that’s going to be during the day.
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Why? Well, “The field is too crowded.” Yes, I think it is. I have to agree with the writer of this piece, Peter Lawrence Kane. Beards can now be so over, please? I mean really, everybody has one and everybody should not have one.
And by beards I don’t really mean those little 3 day stubble shadow things (Ok, I myself have one of those, in a goatee shape, not exactly on trend and not really a beard, but heck, I like it and let’s face it, I’m too lazy to shave the whole face at once). I think those are sexy and I’ve decided I’ll allow them to remain, indefinitely.
No, what I don’t really care for is the overboard look. Like these folks from our past, (Lincoln, Whitman, Freud. . .) couldn’t we just. . . let them be in the past? Along with their beards? They hide you, there’s really no way to tell what a man really looks like when a big bushy beard is covering up everything. And so often, when you find out, well, you wish you hadn’t.
So that’s where I stand on this pressing issue of our day. Have at it. But don’t get any beard hairs on my blog, please. What this means is that the search should provide us with more visitors and money, and all of us experience stress buy cialis uk like condition at some point in their lives. Common Urological Disorders Common urological diseases in women include urinary incontinence, or inability to control urination, abnormal urination patterns, persistent urinary tract infection, interstitial cystitis or painful generic levitra usa bladder syndrome and urethral syndrome, which involves symptoms of urethritis with no known bacterial or viral cause. Kamagra is introduced in the pills that should be taken by the patient. cialis canada cheap They use http://deeprootsmag.org/2013/08/29/for-sale-wounded-knee-johnny-depp-grandstander-chief-red-cloud-93-walks-on/ buy cialis various techniques as you progress through the course.
Other famous beards from the past (where they should stay):
It’s dawned on me that the days of going to a bus or train stop and just hoping that your ride comes along eventually are basically over — that is, with a little help from technology and smart phone apps.
Here in Los Angeles, the LA Metro system has its own app that tells you, in real time, when the next bus/train will arrive. So basically, this means you don’t have to leave your house/place of business/whatever if you don’t want to because you know exactly when the ride will arrive.
This is also helpful when making a connection – too common an occurrence here in L.A. The app can tell you in real time whether one option might be better than another based on real-time bus arrival times which you can access while on the first leg of your journey. This has the potential of shortening your time in transit.
And, to be honest, since going car-free almost a year ago I’ve had that moment here and there where I just thought, damn, it would be nice to get a ride. Well, now that’s easier too. There were always cabs – but you had to call them and wait and half the time they didn’t show up. With Uber or Lyft, the smartphone app does it all for you, including telling you how far away the car is, and since it’s going to be charged to your credit card on file, there’s no worry about having enough cash in your wallet should you decide on the ride on a whim.
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These options make going car-free in our car-centric city that much easier, and makes it even less likely I’ll get another car soon. This time of year, even the bargain basement ARCO near my house currently has unleaded for over $4.20 per gallon. Ouch!
Speaking of Uber, I read they’re launching in Palm Springs. I couldn’t be happier! You know why? After living there for 10 years (part time) I met more of the rudest, assholest cabbies you could ever imagine. Who charge outrageous taxi rates in Palm Springs. So sorry if you’re now going to have to compete with ordinary Uber drivers. Maybe you’ll be a little nicer, even? Like they say, Karma is a bitch.
I’ve started commuting home one night a week on my bike (instead of taking it on the train). It’s about a 15 mile trip, from East Hollywood through Silver Lake/Los Feliz, then along the L.A. River bike trail and connecting in Burbank to the Chandler bike path to Valley Village. Not sure I’ll do it all year, but I’ve loved this trip in the evening spring light.
It was 50 years ago next month: June 1964, the New York World’s Fair. I’ve talked before about being a Sally Draper contemporary, and indeed there was no Shea Stadium for me, but there was a yes to the World’s Fair, my first-ever visit to my dad’s hometown, New York. Although it’s pretty shocking to realize you can remember something that happened 50 years ago, so clearly, that subject is for another post.
Dad took me, and my older sister Kate and my younger sister Pati on this journey (to Oz). I knew instinctively that I wouldn’t stay in the place where we lived after just that one trip. But other than that, here are some of the great things I remember about New York in 1964 through the eyes of a 9-year-old:
Ice Delivery Truck – as in the block kind of ice, the kind that goes in an, you know, ice box, dropped on the ground in small business doorways in one enormous brick.
NYC’s distinctive odor! Something like a mixture of train oil and cat piss. I remembered that smell as a sense memory all these years, and still catch a whiff of it on certain streets in NYC, and nowhere else.
NY Harbor spray from the Staten Island Ferry.
The theater lights on Broadway. Richard Burton was on the marquee for his Hamlet.
Subways — and restrooms in the NYC subway — they seem to have disappeared, or I’m making it up and memory is not reliable.
All the people, the streets full of more people than I’d ever seen in my life, in all shapes, sizes and colors. All of them seemed dressed up to me.
Being in Manhattan was like always being downtown (my frame of reference was Milwaukee); there were no trees. Zero.
Carol Channing and Louis Armstrong singing “Hello, Dolly” on the radio, like once every half hour. And we sang along.
The Jingle-Jump: This weird toy that involved hopping and a ball tethered to your ankle. Google it. Was popular that summer.
My blond aunt (the only blonde in our family), her apartment, her 2 dogs and 3 cats and the 5 of us humans in her one bedroom apartment. The fact that she fed her dogs beef kidney, which she chopped up into little bite-sized pieces for them. They were poodles named Jacques and Guy.
Seeing the NYC skyline for the first time from the NJ Turnpike. It just, like, appeared. Again, like Oz. I was surprised the air was dirty.
The Unisphere at the Fair; also “It’s a Small World After All” at the Fair, the Futurama at the Fair.
Going to see the “Fall of the Roman Empire” flick, a 4-hour film starring glorious Sophia Loren and the hunky Stephen Boyd (OMG, an early crush, for sure) at an incredibly huge theater with grownups who were, again, all dressed up.
The road trip: Mostly remember the Chicago Skyway, the Appalachian mountains from the Pennsylvania Turnpike, and my dad’s aged relatives in Youngstown, Ohio. They were probably 60 or something.
Finally, hoodlums in my aunt’s UWS neighborhood snapped the antenna off my dad’s VW microbus! Now that area (78th/Amsterdam) is much more fancy.
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Click anywhere on the newsletter image to be taken to the archive and links. Thanks and Happy May to all.
Ah June, all rainbows and boas and every day it seems another U.S. state decides that bans on marriage equality are, well, unconstitutional. Yay us! We’re so awesome.
I’m so glad, I say. It must be true because 
Going to see the “Fall of the Roman Empire” flick, a 4-hour film starring glorious Sophia Loren and the hunky Stephen Boyd (OMG, an early crush, for sure) at an incredibly huge theater with grownups who were, again, all dressed up.
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