Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
Tara Donovan is amazing. And not just because she won a 2008 McArthur genius grant. She takes the ordinary (styrofoam cups, plastic straws, pins, etc) and creates wonderfully organic sculpture. Taking something that is so manufactured and utilitarian and making it into something that breathes and lives on it's own is astounding.
She was the inspiration for my very amateurish cups sculpture.
I'll get there one day...
Thursday, October 30, 2008
And I will sing that they shall hear that I am not, I am not afraid.
- Been to NYC twice (and thus had my heart broken and stomped on twice-that city has an abusive husband hold on me)
- Found my calling in graphic design (not that you could tell from my shitty looking blog)
- Found my other calling in art, specifically sculpture
- Been to the dentist a total of 6 times, my own personal holocaust
- Discovered who my friends really are and who in my family actually cares about me thanks to Prop. 8
- Made some killer quinoa and chicken and dumplings at least once
- Been accused of looking "too gay" because i was wearing my sparkley starred Chucks
- Got to be in a video with some fancy people - much love [title of show]!
- Made homemade puzzles with my nieces and nephew - cool uncle strikes again
- And many other fascinating adventures
So I'm not gonna promise I'll be better at posting. I can't make that promise BUT I can promise that I'll be here more frequently so that all 6 of you who have read my blog can read it again. Future installments will include: mandatory rant on Prop 8, being gay in lynchburg and art, art and more art.
Here's that fancy person video, I'm Please-
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Why in the world did I think that consuming melty cheese and tons of fire sauce (mixed with mild for flava) would help me drift off into sleepy land? Why in the world did I think I would then have pink tinged, puffy cloud, rainbow-filled dreams? Why in the world did I ever consider myself an intelligent person??
Saturday, May 10, 2008
I recently came back from a trip to New York City with my friend Alisha. It was way fun and instead of taking pictures, I decided to take audio recordings. So i bought a little digital recorder from Target and had some fun with it.
We took a bus from Richmond to NYC. Here was us getting on the bus at 1:00am.
Chinatown bus 1.mp3
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
SODA SPRINGS, ID—Local Laurel Advisor Judy Comstock of the Soda Springs 5th Ward says she’s tired of hearing the complaints by angry young women and their parents after an object lesson she used in her Laurel lesson apparently fell flat.
“It’s a real challenge to keep these girls interested in the lesson,” complained Comstock when asked about the object lesson gone awry. “Especially when it comes to chastity, it’s not like these girls haven’t heard it all before. They’ve seen the rose with all the petals pulled off. They’ve seen the bread with the butter licked off. They’ve seen the nail pounded in a board. I thought the hankie idea was a fresh, new way to make an old point.”
The lesson began when Comstock carefully removed a clean, white handkerchief from a box, and explained that, “this hankie is like your virtue.” When she asked the girls to blow their noses in it and pass it around, demonstrating that “no worthy young returned missionary would want you now,” the lesson quickly deteriorated into chaos.
“It was positively the grossest thing I have ever seen,” says Ginger Bailey, Laurel class president. “By the time that handkerchief got to me it was like totally disgusting, but Sister Comstock was like all encouraging us to blow our noses in it and pass it on. I thought for sure I was going to yak. We’re all like, ‘hello, we have standards here!’” Other class members felt the same way.
“The first girl, Whitney Snow, was like, ‘okay,’ and she just honked away and passed it on,” reports class member Deena Cooper. “After that, most of us were like, ‘no way,’ but Sister Comstock was getting all pushy, so some of the other girls did it, too. Julie Jamison left the class retching and she told me she hurled twice in the bathroom.” When asked if she herself blew her nose, Cooper quietly admitted that she had.
“Sister Comstock just made you feel like if you didn’t, you didn’t love her or something. There was like this total pressure to blow your nose. I didn’t want to, but I felt like I had to.”
Brenda Sorenson, the Young Women’s President says she witnessed the hankie metaphor, and though she was somewhat concerned about hygiene, felt the overall effect was exactly what they were looking for.
“It disturbs me that the girls seem to be struggling with this,” admits Sorenson. “Satan is so strong in this last dispensation that apparently even these poor Laurels can’t resist his awful influence. To my way of thinking, it’s a sign of spiritual wavering that the girls are offended by such plain truths. I know without a doubt that this was exactly the kind of lesson we needed,” Sorenson added, “but in hindsight, it’s probably a good thing Judy didn’t use her original object lesson, which involved toilet paper.”
The Young Women’s Presidency sent cards to all the Laurels expressing their love for each of them and asking them to kindly come back to Sister Comstock’s classes.
I wish I had written this. I wish I had a Peepstone.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
What made it so good? Story. Here's a choreographer who understands the need for narrative. If you're not involved in the story, if you don't care about the characters, who cares how clean that arabesque was? Technical prowess by itself doesn't impress me.
So far I've now seen Ed Scissorhands, Nutcracker!, Swan Lake and the Car Man and I just can't get enough.
If you're new to him, here's a little primer on Matthew Bourne and Nutcracker! narrated by Matthew Bourne himself.
And here's one of my favorite moments in all of his works. It's from Swan Lake.
Of course it helps that all his works are just a little bit gay...
I have a feeling that my family really wants me to be one of those "faith-promoting" stories in the back of the Ensign. They want me to be stronger and just overcome being gay so I can finally get on with my life. My nice, normal, very Mormon life that they so desperately want for me.
But I'm not the action-hero who turns back the horde of enemies single-handed, saves the building from exploding, finds the secret treasure and (most importantly) gets the girl. End Scene. Roll credits.
I'm just this guy, see. I'm not stronger than most. I need the touch in the dark that I find strength and comfort in. I need to be able to take a rest from the fight. You can't expect your soldiers to struggle every minute of every day. Especially against something that is so natural, so needed, so much a part of one's soul. You can not ask them to have to, in those intimate moments, fight then as well.
My family gets to rest. They have structured support systems in and out of the church that help them along. They can have intimate relationships without having to convince themselves that holding her hand isn't all that bad. They don't have to work as hard as a gay in the church. And they know that, but they DO expect me to work harder than they have to, sacrifice more than them and stay positive about it.
I think they like the idea that there is a potential hero in their midst. A great Ensign article in the making. An inspiring story that will get repeated at Conference in between Elder Holland's heart felt sobs. Look at what a great religion we have, Amen.
Instead of asking if the church might be wrong, they would rather believe that more IS expected of me. That it is better that I be wrung dry, in a constant state of battle, going insane and alone. And that is the worst feeling of all: knowing that they love the church more than me.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
I started doing this dance and experienced a joy and feeling of enlightenment I've only experienced doing yoga, eating Godiva chocolate mousse and hearing 12 DCI corps play at the same time on the same field. Be careful, you'll grin like an idiot. (Gold metallic lame not necessary but rotating chair essential!)
1. Pick up the nearest book (at least 123 pages).
2. Turn to page 123.
3. Find the 5th sentence
4. Post the 5th sentence on your blog.
She would prepare the food with them, singing her
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do,
You made me love you, I didn't want to do it,
I didn't want to do it.
~Neil Gaiman, from his poem Queen of Knives from his excellent collection of short stories and poems titled: Smoke and Mirrors.
(Sorry Craig, as nice and cute as you are, I'm just too lazy to do #5 right now.)
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Oh my! Hurry up everyone! Oprah has gone too far. Who does she think she is to believe and worship in a way different that us? How DARE she sponsor an online course on Jesus based on a book that views HIM in a different way! She has the GALL to practice her freedom of religion!!! Well, not if we have anything to do with it.
And 2 million people! That's almost half as many Mormons in the US. We can't let them catch up. Religion is above all a competition so let's remember that numbers matter people.
Oh for the day when OUR way is the only way to worship, believe and think. Did you know that at this moment, similar classes are being taught around the world!? Shocking but true. Right now, in colleges, universities, seminaries, synagogues, and temples around the world, the young and old are being taught all sorts of dogmas and beliefs that are NOT like ours.
This is the ...*snigger*... worst possible...*giggle*... thing that I have EVER...LOL! Ok, ok i can't keep it up anymore and keep a straight face. Really? A facebook group dedicated to stopping Oprah from holding a course? Well, you have fun with that. I have a bathroom to clean.
Friday, March 28, 2008
"Self, should I resign my membership to the Church and send in the letter required to stop being a Mormon?"
"Well, what should I care about their little records? I'm not going to church and I don't believe anymore so what does it matter to me if they think I'm a member or not?"
"I never thought about it like that, self, but shouldn't I make them aware of my concerns? Shouldn't they know they've lost another gay son?"
"That's a good point, but they haven't cared about you as a gay member of the church before so why do you think they will start caring when you leave?"
"Huh, well someone has to know there are sheep leaving the fold and for what reasons!"
"Listen to me self, the church has never, I repeat, NEVER left the 99 sheep snuggled safely in the pen to go in search of the 1 sheep in peril. Why should your little bleating help things?"
"The more gay Mormons that, as you so delicately put it, bleat, the louder our voice. That way we will get heard!"
"God, you still trust them to do the right thing don't you?! After what you've been through you still want to give them the benefit of the doubt. You still want them to love you for who you are. You're such a battered wife it's ridiculous! They might have changed their minds on race and the priesthood but they won't change their minds on this. Remember that the Mormon church is above all an American church AND Americans are squeamish with anything to do with sex. Their distaste for gays runs deep."
"But I should at least send in the letter for some closure. And it'll get my name off the rolls and I'll finally be done with it. There's nothing wrong in hoping that they change. I want to believe in the goodness in people. By the way, you've got some anger issues my friend. You ought to take a look at that."
"Anger issues duly noted, thanks. You'll never "be done with it" as you so naively believe. Being a Mormon is hardwired into your head. You identify with them and their worldview. And your whole family are dyed-in-the-wool, true blue Mormons. You think that you can get away just by writing a letter? Don't fool yourself."
"Ok, ok. I'll think about this some more then. Besides, I'm too lazy to write something now. Now, who has my lithium?!"
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
This lack of journalistic integrity infuriated me. In the crowded Jamerson YMCA I gave the TV the tallest finger salute twice and said "stupid mother fucking fuckers". That got the attention of my fellow sweathogs.
So I went to wset.com to see what kind of comments were being posted by my fellow free-thinking intelligent citizens. I've never seen so many scriptural references being lobbed back and forth in my life. It was like Sunday School with weaponry. Someone needed to stop the dogma war and I politely stepped in with this little post:
We live in a country where freedom of religion means that anyone can believe whatever and worship whomever they choose. And that is wonderful! Do whatever you wish in the name of your religion unless you harm others. When what you believe becomes detrimental or actively hurts people, no matter how willing they might be, society has a duty to step in and protect them.
Many people are commenting here with scriptural references to back up what they believe but you are arguing the wrong thing. Believe whatever you want. Interpret your holy books however you want. That's not the real problem here. Convince me that you are doing no psychological harm to these individuals. That's all I care about. I'll never convince you that gays can be made straight and you will never convince me otherwise. Just assure me that you are not harming these people. And remember, I don't share the same religion as you so quoting the bible, no matter how accurate, is not going make a good argument.Holy Mother Loving Roller Skating Jebus. Never has the lack of an 'T made such a difference. I'm off to brush up on my Tall Teeth.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Oh how I fondly recall when Starwhisper would gently kick me awake every morning to lick the dew off the grass while breathing in the sun's birth rays with my eyes. We would soak it in while eating his strangely piquant mushroom omelets. What amazing sights and feelings! I've never been able to recapture it alone. That Starwhisper had a magic all his own!
And how could I forget the dances around the fires at night as we dialed in to Nature's frequency. The chanting, the drumming, the searching for a spot to commune with a tree and big, soft leaves. Hopefully in a spot that no one has communed before you. Those nights when our Cirque du Soleil friends visiting from Reno would join in the festivities singing their polite French Canadian folksongs were not to be missed! Oh the costumes and contortioning!
I would live it all over again! Even the time we had that run in with the camping NRA club. But not our misguided attempt to attend Burning Man... I still have a quickened standing heart rate from that little "adventure".
Oh New Oneida, I'll never be able to forget you!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
He're the deets. I got to work and noticed that the office was in serious need of some dustbusting and I provided. And promptly after the good deed came the punishment. My throat completely closed up. In bear trap fashion it snapped shut and wouldn't even open to my raccoon-skin cap Daniel Boone-like strength. I could breathe fine but could swallow nothing. Not a drop of water. AND to top it off with rich velvety buttercream, my body's natural defenses went to DEFCON 5 and immediately started to produce copious amounts of a clear viscous liquid. I felt like I was in an airport security line: choking on my own defenses.
After 58 trips to the bathroom, 10 hiccup hoedowns, 3 attempts to sprinkle antihistamines under my tongue (bitter, bitter, nastiness), 2 resolutions to go to the emergency room, and 1 hot bath, I fell asleep. I was sure I was gonna drown as my own zealous immune system kept finding untapped sources of phlegm.
But never fear! I woke and felt like Tutankhamen must feel when he rises to politely choke archaeologists - cranky, creaky and made of dust. I've never been so dehydrated. I lurched to the fridge, poured a tall, cold glass of apple juice, put it to my lips and paused. What if I still couldn't swallow? My mind rapidly went through a delightful scenario with a trip to the hospital tended by the pigfaced nurses from the Twilight Zone who forcefully ram a stint down my throat. I shuddered and delicately sipped..... Heaven. Gloriously cool bliss. This wasn't apple juice! Somebody must have switched it with liquid gold!
Friday, February 8, 2008
When you are thinking about posting your main photo on Facebook, for the love of Phil Hartman, PLEASE BE IN YOUR PHOTO!!!
I don't want to see a pic of your baby. I don't want to be friends with your whole family. I want to see you! I want to reconnect with YOU. Yes, yes, I am sure you are very proud that you finally got married after years and years of searching for that one person who can accommodate all your weird ticks and quirks. AND I'm sure you want eeeeeeveryone to know that you had sex and eventually squeezed out a lump of flesh that's not even a person yet. But please people, that's what your photo albums are for.
Eventually I'll get to hear about your wonderful spouse and all 15 kids you've astoundingly had in less than a decade. And I will be ecstatic for you. I'm great at being happy with people. It's one of my super powers. But for right now I want to see YOU and tell YOU how much I've missed you. You left a hole in my life that neither your baby, your hunky spouse or your whole family can fill. Only you.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
are you bored to tears?
When you swing on your tire
do you swing just to swing
or do you think through your fears?
Do the bars confine too much
when you see the sky above
or do you like to lounge all day
with your food served on a tray
and all the girl monkeys to love?
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Eleanor is my mom's sister and she's a delight to talk to. Really, if she ever calls you collect (which she never would, she has more taste than that! But we're in Hypothetical Land here people. She's never gonna call you) accept the charges cause it will be worth every penny. Adjectives that describe a conversation with Eleanor (or Skeleknor to those in the know): witty, fast, urbane, fast, interesting, fast, hilarious, fast, guffawing, fast and fast.
She asked me how I was: I officially came out to her. She expressed her love: I did likewise. She asked me what I was up to: I said Lynchburg, Lynchburg College, grad classes. She inquired of my future plans: I said I was seriously thinking about moving to New York City and trying to make it as a writer at a magazine or publishing house or whatever. She said she had been waiting for this moment: I didn't know how to respond. She said she has tons and she means TONS of contacts at magazines and that whatever I want she would get: I felt a little bit of shock.
She then proceeded to detail her contacts: I felt my jaw drop, and drop and then fall off my face. She said her job was to set me up with job, apartment, contacts and that my job was to tell her when to start and when to stop: I hadn't spoken for 5 minutes at this point.
I believed I stammered something in the way of thanks and love and just general gushing before we stopped talking.
So now that I've had enough time to distill this information not once, not twice but three times like a fine single malt, I'm ready to bottle my 2008 Falcon Distilleries "When Not If" scotch. Seriously. I'm in the calculator stage of the planning. How much money I need to save, etc.
And I'm not walking into this blind. I lived in Washington Heights for 8 months when I was a missionary. I know Harlem, East Harlem and the South Bronx better than the typical white boy does. I know how noisy, crazy, expensive and lonely the City can be. And I love it. And if I didn't take this chance I know I would regret it.
And more importantly, what would Skeleknor think if I didn't?!