So I have so far been unable to generate commissions with my ads. I have been informed that my ad account is being deactivated because of this giant FAIL!
So, added to the drop I already received from Amazon associates (see the link above) it means that until something changes, as in, I get lots more hits, or the business model becomes different, I won’t be posting ads on these pages going forward.
The major case involves low flushing of the blood around the penile region in sufficient cialis tadalafil 5mg amounts. It is available in cost of viagra canada 100mg dosages and recommended only by a health professional. The best thing is to check out the models of buying viagra online the trusted company and purchase the suitable product which is based and visiting a Urologist or Family Practice Doctor for help would be appropriated. However, severe bending can cause the tadalafil online no prescription erectile tissue to tear, leading to the formation of scar tissue and awkward bending. My hits – they’ve been averaging about 1200-1300 unique hits a month for most of this year. That’s up considerably from the past, but still not enough to generate any ad commissions, apparently. If anything, it makes the process of posting entries here that much easier.
Did you read Hiltzik’s piece in the Times? I have to say that although I have certainly enjoyed not paying sales tax at Amazon and other online retailers over the years, fair is fair and a level playing field is probably the way to go. We always lament how big box places like Wal-Mart and Target destroy Main Street, and this advantage online retailers have is part of that same problem.
While I wasn’t counting on my ad commissions for any income at all, I’m sure a lot of full-time bloggers were, so who is now the job-killing Satan if it’s not Amazon? Hiltzik makes some very good points. I guess eventually I expect Amazon will lose and somebody is going to be collecting those sales taxes. Will they lower their prices to keep a competitive advantage?
Onto the Blog…
I’ve been reading about blog success, and most pundits say it has to have a defined niche. Mine has pretty much been all over the place in regards to topics. I’m hoping to define three or four categories to post in and continue in that vein. I’m sure one will be something like Entertainment/Arts, in which I’ll put books, movies, TV, etc. I’m still thinking about the other categories.
This photo is from the real estate listing for my recently-sold condo in Palm Springs. My realtor told me people said it looked like a New York loft! (Maybe discounting the heat-blasted bougainvillea outside.)
I bought it in 2001. At the time, I was living and working in San Francisco, and had recently sold a place in West Hollywood (which I now regret, but isn’t that what hindsight is all about…).
I couldn’t afford anything in San Francisco. One room studios for $300K and up just seemed pretty ridiculous to me. I entertained the idea of buying a place in Guerneville (the Russian River), and looked for awhile there, but in the end decided I wouldn’t probably want to spend weekends up there for most of the year. Besides, it was difficult to find a house in the forest which had a) any sun and b) was not on the floodplain with a watermark on the facade – in my price range, anyway.
So it dawned on me that Palm Springs might be a good place to invest. Prices were so much less there than in the cities, and truthfully, the climate difference between SF and PS is profound. I am a warm weather lover. I adored going down there for long weekends. My job at the time also allowed me to visit the L.A. office (Dolby Laboratories) in Burbank, so most often the travel back and forth was “subsidized.” Ah, the good-bad old days of corporate largesse…
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And the truth is Palm Springs put out quite well for a weekend getaway. That’s just long enough to enjoy the pool and the sun, the insane amount of quiet, the party that happens on Friday and Saturday nights and ends about Sunday at 4. My coworkers thought I was crazy to make the 525-mile drive each way drive every other weekend or so, but to me it seemed worth it, depending on the month and the amount of rain in San Francisco.
It all changed a few months after I bought the place when I came down with cancer. I spent a couple of months in the barely furnished place to recover from an operation, and what a wonderful experience that was. But what it also brought with it was an intense realization of mortality, mine yes, but everyone else’s, too.
I ended up leaving that job the next year as my priorities for life had changed rather dramatically. I moved first to the condo in PS, and realized after just two months there that there was no way in hell that I could live there full time. I first rented a room back in LA, then a converted garage, and finally a flat in Los Feliz and then in 2006 put the condo on the market.
Bad timing! After a year, it not only did not sell, it had no offers, and no prospects. I had already moved full-time back to Los Angeles and pleaded with the realtor to find a tenant. We ended up with two over the course of two years: “Deadbeat Darlene,” who just decided to stop paying the rent with no explanation, and then a gay couple who always paid the rent – no matter if it was 2 days or two months late, they always, eventually, paid it.
In March of 2010 when they gave their notice, I was unemployed and responsible for both that mortgage and my L.A. rent. Weighing the options, I decided to move back out to the desert, get the condo ready for a sale, and hope the market might provide me with a window.
Long story long, it did. I even made a tiny profit on the place, but only due to the fact that I bought it 10 years ago.
So, what’s it like to live in P.S. full time? Let me say some people – of all ages – love it. They love the quiet, they love the heat, they love the convenience (like, no lines, easy and free parking, no traffic jams, etc) or they love the specific amenities like golf or tennis or if GLBT, the GLBT population.
What I can say about it is, it’s astoundingly hot in the summer, and it’s colder than the coasts in the winter at night. It is a year-round place now, so not everything closes up in the summer though there is a noticeable drop in the population, traffic, and people out and about.
There are ways to make a living out there if you’re in one of a few special categories, like tourism, health care, or real estate or anything that supports real estate like AC, plumbing, interior design, furniture sales, pool maintenance, etc.
There didn’t seem to be much call for corporate PR mavens. Or even non-profit PR mavens. Or filmmakers. Or novelists. Unless, of course, you had an income coming from somewhere else – like social security, or a pension. Sorry to say, I’m not there yet.
There would be days, particularly in the summertime, when I’d be inside the condo, closed up against the frighteningly strong and deadly sun, and the air conditioning would be humming (and I’d be praying that today would not be the day the unit would die, forcing me to spend $5K on a new system) and it would otherwise be so quiet, so still, I could hear a clock in my head. Tick-tock.
Tick-tock.
Perhaps I’d look out the window and see one of my neighbors navigating her wheelchair along the pathway to the mailbox.
Tick-tock.
Again it would be silent and I’d think, what will become of me here? It was like I had abandoned my life. Loneliness does not really describe it. It was more a combination of panic and a deep realization of being stranded 100 miles from civilization.
I’m not sure what I think about being retired, and wonder if this will even be possible, or desirable, for members of my generation and those that follow. It’s a recent invention, only made possible by things like advances in health care and pensions. Totally, a 20th century invention. In the past, people who couldn’t work were cared for by their extended families and most did not live to be old. If you were single, there was the poorhouse. It was bleak. It may be very bleak again, if anti-social safety net folks get their way.
But what I realized about all that was that even if I was ever retired, I’d prefer the city. I figured I’d had the PS retirement experience, as I lived there for a considerable time without working. So I know what it’s like.
I don’t have to do it again.
So again, Goodbye to All That, and I look forward to the wistful visits to come.
My recollection is that the early 90s is when the area around Warm Sands in Palm Springs became the destination for gay guys. Cathedral City revamped their old (and decaying) downtown, and places like Daddy Warbucks were razed. They built the little racetrack and Target and Trader Joe’s and all the other stuff in front of the Villas and Desert (Desperate) Palms, and last I looked (a couple of months ago) both properties appeared like they had been abandoned (The DP was actually for sale).
I spent much of the time in PS during the late 80s early 90s with my sometimes-boyfriend sometimes-frenemy Jeff King, who had lived there for a time in the late 70s or early 80s. He had been a waiter at places like Jeremiah’s and Hamburger Hamlet (now, both long gone) and he knew people, he knew where things were. More importantly, he knew the social rules, such as they were, about where to go at what time on what day. Complicated. Good to have a guide.
He told me he’d been a member of something called the D.O.D., which stood for Daughters of the Desert, a loose (in many ways I’m sure) group of gay dining/partying buddies. His friend David was a bartender at Daddy Warbuck’s so for anything Jeff didn’t know about, David would.
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We stayed most often either at the Villas in their declining years (read: cheap rates) or at the new hip place over on Warm Sands, which was the Atrium/Vista Grande. My best memory of those years is sunbathing with Enigma playing over the sound system at Vista Grande while the misters kept me fairly cool in the 100+ heat. The place is still very much there, and expanded, though I know the shitty economy has taken a huge toll on those resorts.
My friend Jeff died there in Palm Springs, in a horrible car crash in 1992. His friend David died a couple of weeks later from AIDS. That was a horrible time, obviously, for so many in our community and also those early 90s years saw a crash of housing prices in Palm Springs, due to a recession and L.A. riots and PS riots (remember, the students used to go there for Spring Break!).
There had always been a lot of gay people in Palm Springs, but more of an influx with guys who had HIV and were looking for a peaceful and cheap place to spend what days they had left. And guess what – there were many, many days left, that continue to go on, because the retro-viral therapies for HIV, launched in the mid-90s, have made the infection mostly manageable. So those guys stayed, bought up cheap houses and helped build a gay infrastructure. And more followed, as well as other older men and lesbians who were now going to make this place a retirement destination – as had the straight population for years and years.
*apologies to Robert Graves, Joan Didion, and anyone else who has used this cool title.
Mountain, clouds: Palm Springs
The first-ever time I was in Palm Springs was in July, 1981, right about 30 years ago, when I drove out there with a group of guys from the Gay Student Union at USC in Los Angeles. It was the 4th of July weekend, and the leader of our little group (who, I kid you not, had “Gay” as his surname) had been there before, knew the “lay” of the land, and promised delights lurked behind every cactus.
Our specific destination was a gay resort called The New Lost World, which was, I know now, basically right on the border between Rancho Mirage and Palm Desert. It was a derelict property which had been owned at some point in the past (long, long past) by Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball.
It had a lookout tower, a bar and restaurant, numerous buildings with guest rooms and several pools. It had abandoned volleyball courts, and an enormous firepit and shuffleboard course which was now a racetrack for a roadrunner. It backed up onto a giant wash, separated only by a low brick wall to keep out the wildness, of which, in 1981, there was still plenty.
On that particular weekend, there was a men’s fashion show around the pool. I only remember that caftans were among the items being shown, and the brave “models” were heckled incessantly by an audience stoked on Margaritas and 110 degree temperatures.
The pools, I remember, were cloudy; I came back with an ear infection but nothing worse, thank god, considering my youth, the year and nighttime activities. That trip began my association and love/hate relationship with Palm Springs.
Throughout the 1980s, I would go up to “the Springs” maybe once or twice a year. We really (we, meaning friends in their 20s, early 30s) could not afford anything more than that. It was then, as it is now, a getaway for a sex and sun weekend for guys from the cities of California. It seemed then, that everyone who went to Palm Springs was my age, whatever it happened to be, whatever year. It seems the same now, that the group that liked the desert was my specific age group which has grown up with that desire for dry heat.
The places that were popular then were all in Cathedral City, clustered around Dave’s Villa Caprice and The Desert Palms motel, way before anybody ever thought of building a Target there. An old date palm grove between the properties provided ample cruising space, as did the bars – I remember Rocks, Daddy Warbucks, the disco Cathedral City Construction Company, and there was a Club Baths next door. At that time, there were only a couple of gay places in Palm Springs proper. That, of course, has changed. Just a bit.
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We could likewise discover some various other medications that are the buying cialis in spain reverse of those sex-related “activators”. I followed the instructions to a tee, and decided to tadalafil overnight come clean with Clarissa. Ashwagandha improves blood flow, mental prescription canada de viagra clarity and sex drive. Kamagra can result in an buy levitra in canada navigate to this ronaldgreenwaldmd.com uncommon however genuine condition known as priapism or delayed erection. Sorry, could not resist. I’m not sure if this is a commentary on the state of the economy, or the result of the suggestiveness which has always been apparent in the natural style of the donut.
I wonder if there’s more to the story than the short item in the Times would seem to indicate. Knowing that the police and donuts go together like cream and coffee, I’m wondering if the alleged donut whore rubbed someone – the wrong someone – the wrong way. (So to speak.)
I know I haven’t posted much of anything in July. There is a reason for this and the reason is, I’m in the process of moving to another city (to Los Angeles from Palm Springs) and this is taking much longer than anticipated. I was supposed to move July 1, then July 8, then July 15, and now it looks like I’m finally going to be able to move on Monday, July 25.
The reason? Delayed escrow closing in Palm Springs. This has got to be one of the more stressful things I’ve dealt with in years, and has on its own given me a nice case of adult ADD and insomnia. One of the results is not being able to focus long enough to write a post.
I had found an apartment, put it on hold, then with the delays it could not be held for me any longer. Earlier this week, I went back to L.A. and found a place, suggested by a friend, which actually is a much better deal than the first place, so I should be (and I am!) grateful for the SNAFU* which had rendered my life FUBAR**. It’s not exactly all rainbows and balloons now, but edging closer every day.
Anyway, to the link. Loved this story about how local government is actually doing some good things – like sticking up for bicyclists, who in places like L.A. don’t get much respect. This law allows civil lawsuits for harassment from bicyclists against asshole drivers, so there doesn’t need to be a law enforcement arrest before such remedies can be sought. Perhaps, eventually, this is a path toward greater recognition of the necessity of sharing the road, or at the very least, acknowledgment of the existence of bicycles on the road.
Be careful out there and wear those helmets (OK, me too).
Situation Normal, All Fucked Up **Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition
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Yowza! Some of you may have noticed that I recently started posting some advertisements on Jim Arnold’s Blog – for books, for fitness programs, for sexy underwear… and sunglasses.
Well, today I got the third cancellation in my nascent affiliate plan, this one from Undergear. The other two were from Amazon and Bodybuilding.com. It’s all because of a recent law passed in California that requires state tax to be added to purchases from California-based websites selling these merchants’ stuff.
So, I have to laugh. The blog has basically been a labor of love for a couple of years and I only recently had the idea of making a few dollars here and there on it (disclosure: so far I’ve made 50 cents in affiliate ad revenue, but I don’t get a payment till it reaches a threshold, which I think is $10 – not exactly enough to buy that yacht).
I’ve added a bunch of affiliate programs to my “mix” in the last week or so (did you see the ad for Nerdy Shirts???) and so will continue to post those ads until those companies, as well, drop me like a rock.
I’ll miss Undergear and hope they will be back. It sure was fun posting pictures of cute guys in their skivvies onto my blog and possibly making money on it – right. UPDATE 2015: Obviously Amazon ads are back. As there’s one right below this.
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I love that hot young gay men are now undercover spies. (See Video) More problematic? Presidential aspirants involved in widely disparaged and debunked forms of psychotherapy, specifically here, alleged gay-to-straight therapy.
Michelle Bachmann and her husband Marcus own and operate this clinic in suburban Minneapolis. That they are using this ineffective therapy is but the tip of the iceberg – is this clinic accepting government funds (as in Medicaid) for religious indoctrination? Last I checked, that was still a violation of the law. I don’t know whether or not Marcus Bachmann is a closeted gay man, as others have asked. I don’t really care.
These medicines actually increase the blood flow through the penis levitra order tissue by delaying the degradation of cGMP. The medication is popularly recognized as the best generic version -kamagra is becoming a the buy levitra godsend medicine for men unable to grip erection or preserve it till the peak of copulation. shop viagra online You can overcome all these problems through testosterone therapy. They not only worshipped together, but browse that drugshop cialis canada generic they also take out “good” bacteria as well. What I do care about is the hateful betrayal of children that therapy of this kind precipitates. You can see this in the eyes of the young man in the video, who told his mother that his instinct told him this kind of “repair” would never work – ’cause there was nothing in need of repairing. He was born the way he was born, like all of us are.
I’m looking forward to learning more about the Bachmann Clinic and its work. I hope that organizations like Truth Wins Out and standard news organizations step up the investigations. At the rate we’re going, it’s appearing that the Bachmanns are just piling on the batshit crazy, instead of seriously trying to eliminate any of it.
Years in the works, with Tracy writing the book and the late Bill Parsley writing the music, Vanishing Hitchhiker takes an unfortunate busload of wintry tourists through a succession of urban legends, each one more bizarre than the next. Will these people ever get to their destination, or are they bound to suffer the same dastardly fate as so many urban legend victims?
Only time will tell. Check out the site and the catchy song “The Story of Maria Goretti“, which is now up on YouTube as well:
What could be better than a guitar-playing nun in drag, killer marionettes, and stage blood? Screams, I tell you. Well, it all seemed to work pretty nicely for Debbie Reynolds.
Next stop, Broadway!
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Case in point, two great things have just happened, both of them evidence that California is progressive, is looking toward a future that is not all about enriching the rich at the expense of everybody else, etc. So I found this heartening.
Story #1: L.A. will increase construction of bike paths and lanes. A great way to add to the existing transport options mix. Sorry, those of you who can only see cars. You will be forced to share the road, to the benefit of all, believe me. You WILL get used to it, too!
Story #2: Notable GLBT figures will have their accomplishments covered in California history books. There really is nothing remarkable about this, as it should be just a no-brainer, but, oddly in 2011, it requires legislation in our culture. I congratulate the California assembly and look forward to Governor Brown’s signature on the law.
And for the asshat legislator from San Bernardino (Tim Donnelly) who was “deeply offended by this because he is a Christian,” I’ll just say as a Californian, I’m deeply offended because of your ignorance and narrow-mindedness. Hopefully, in the next election, your constituents will see you for the pathetic knuckle-dragger that you are and send you home. Where maybe you can read something.
And about that “homosexual agenda” thing. I want to know why, if there is indeed a homosexual agenda, why I have not been invited to any (not one!) agenda-setting meetings in my 50-plus years as a homosexual? (Is it a deodorant issue?)
I’m feeling left out.
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