Rim-Shot and Trixie Motel

How can it be June already?  Riveting journalism this is for a blog post; but, really? June? There were several goals, and deadlines that had to be met when I stepped into 2023 possibly move to a better place, closer to the park, go on the epic vacation that was planned in 2022, and finally, break down and buy a rim chair.

 

Here we are marking the sixth month, halfway through the year, and I am done with all three goals. We went to LA for a weekend, ditched Dragcon as it was.... a drag, and had an amazing weekend staying with The Trixie Motel in Palm Springs. So much pink. The hype for the hotel was justified. However, the service, in comparison with other high-end and super-expensive hotels, was simply lacking. A two-night stay and there was no personal service. I got snipped at for wanting a cup of coffee before 8AM or after 10AM But, I walked in to check in with a backpack and dirty jeans, so go figure. Palm Springs was amazing as we did brunch-bitch poolside at a historic hotel with new friends.  

Moving was surprisingly easy. If not overly expensive. Inflation hit the moving industry just like everything else. Just yesterday I unpacked the last box. In all my moves, which there have been way too many, it seems like the books just sit and wait to be placed on a bookcase. Also, after to purge all the stuff you realize you‘ll never use again, you move and end up with a whole new stack of stuff for Goodwill. Every time wondering “Why did I move this?”   

And as for the rim chair.... well... There comes a time when you realize you need the right tool for the right job. I like to consider myself an... expert in the field.... and need to step up, or lie down to the major league. To do this I need the best tools.  

The Glamor of Air Travel

I have Southwest airline miles in my account and they are burning a hole in my pocket. Not Literally of course, but damn it! I want to go on an airplane somewhere. 

I check in on my Southwest airline credit card frequently, and watch as the flight miles mock me. They know I can't fly right now, so they tease me and my grounded status. Yes, I know it is possible to fly domestically right now, but I can't. This is due to the lack of self-control of my fist meeting the nose of anyone I might happen to come across not wearing a face mask. I mean, if you cry it's your liberty and personal freedom to not wear the mask in public then it is equally (and just as much a right) to personal freedom for me to breakout a couple of your teeth with my left fist. If  a person feels so powerfuly drawn to stand up for their agency as an american, I have a balanced right to send them away in an ambulance.  I jest; obviously, but this is also why I can't fathom taking a vacation right now. Having to make my way through an airport with an unchecked and uncontrolled (on the federal leverl) virus, it's not possible. 

I have started to make plans for October and Atlanta Pride. To hangout with Patrick and have him meet Brian, the action-packed, super-cute boyfriend. So, there is that. By October I assume we will all be on mandatory COVID vaccination shots. And we'll be weeks away from saying "President- elect Bidan" Soooooooo, I guess I should cool my credit card points yearning. I mean, I guess I could buy tickets for 2021 Dragcon in LA; whenever that is? By then we will be saying "President Biden sure fucking saved us, didn't he?!"

Castro in the Morning

We sat in the morning sun.

It was strange. I had been on Castro Street a countless number of times. Never, on an early Monday morning. I had been to this coffee shop a countless number of times. Never, like this before.

We sat upon the bench outside the coffee shop. We spoke quietly, as it seemed appropriate for this morning. Not because it was a quiet Monday morning in the Castro, the first I had ever experienced; but, because this is how one talks in a situation like this.

Quietly. Like the Castro on a Monday morning.

In a slow frenzy I attempted to soak it all in, the exact distance from my feet to the curb, the number of trash cans lined up across the street against the Bank of America building. The curve and feel of his hand in mine. I wanted to remember every detail. Every, fucking detail. I wouldn’t let it go. I must remember the feeling of sitting on a bench, outside a coffee shop, in the early morning light.  In the Castro… with him.

For him, it may of been just coffee on a Monday morning. A cool nonchalantness wafted about him like a smokey haze.

I was engrossed in memorizing every spec of paint splatter on his black framed glasses. Every blemish, every hair in his beard. Embarrassed by this, I would glance down at my venti sized coffee from the “bearbucks” and click my thumb upon the edge. I would force down the thoughts of Christmas tree shopping, of late night kisses after nightmares pulled him from sleep. Telling him he was safe. Ignore half-created images of long road trips and hikes up into unexplored mountains. Damn it! I counted the street signs.

We sat in the morning sun.

We spoke quietly. It seemed appropriate for this moment. We didn’t speak of future plans, other than abstract shapes and cloudy references. I memorized how many buses stopped across the street and how many people got on those buses; on their way to work on a sunny Monday morning in the Castro. I attempted to memorize every detail around me, so I would never forget. Never, fucking forget.

We sat on that bench, outside of that coffee shop.

I can now tell you how many trees line that street. As I held his hand. I cannot; tell you anything about us. 

Escape to SF

I am just ten days away from my much desired vacation to San Francisco. An escape from the beginning of Autumn in Colorado, and the real world, to amazing SF. This does not mean an escape from school. As my online class still calls for homework to be done, I may pointed out as the idiot in the middle of the Folsom Street Fair, on a laptop writing upon Rome's power structure during the Medieval era.  But, if I do have to do homework, it might as well be in the middle of a gay street festival.

It truly is my body's policy, that within ten days before any vacation I must get a terrible head cold.  I feel as if there are fifty tiny chickens attempting to peck their way out of my head. It's my body's way of making REALLY appreciate my vacations. Every time I have a hotel booked, I get sick two weeks before my check in date.

With battling the tiny chickens, and the due dates for school swirling around me; I am still determined to have a great vacation. 

Our Lady J

It happens after every Big Gay Cruise. I become obsessed. 

I become completely obsessed with one of the entertainers on the ship, and turn into a crazy fan girl for the next year. Kylie Minogue was first introduced to me on a gay cruise, back in the day. Deborah Cox was on another vacation. Even Dixie Longate was the subject of one of these obsessive episodes. Dixie spurred on driving across the countryside months after the on-board Drag Queen Tupperware  show,  with seven other homos just to see this drag Tupperware show again. That might be considered kind of crazy. 

This last vacation was no different. 

I have been living and breathing the music of Our Lady J. 

Born a fay boy in a Mennonite style upbringing within the Pentecostal Church; it seems her only outlet was the piano. Fueled by her own obsession with Dolly Parton, she delivered an amazing show on board the Big Gay Cruise. Since then, I have lived and breathed her music. Yesterday I caught myself singing along, out loud, to her song Elegance at the gym. Picture it, a line of dudes at the mirror pounding away at the free-weights, and a bearded queen in the middle in an Oregon Wrestling t-shirt burning out the 55lb dumbbells on bicep curls singing… 

I stand for elegance. I live for elegance.
I breathe for elegance. I’ll die for elegance.
I stand for elegance. I live for all things beautiful:
Taste, culture, polish, performance, grace, and dignity.*

That will learn those gym rats something. I highly recommend checking out this amazing singer. 

iTunes

Our Lady J website Where you can listen to her new album

Facebook

*http://www.ourladyj.com/Our_Lady_J/lyrics.html

Book Worm

There may be only thirteen days until I leave for our massive gay vacation, and ten more work days, but there are four more school days until I’ll miss two important assignments. That means as I sit naked by the pool at our leather themed vacation guest house, my junk wont be getting sun as I will be typing away on a paper about Socrates’ conversation with Euthyphro.  Picture it, a Fort Lauderdale gay hotel; pool side…

From porn
to pedal 

“Why thank you, and your muscled hotness is amazing too” I’d say looking over the top of my Macbook, returning a complement from a former porn star turned natural grocery store owner, “could you… you know what would be really hot… is if you could define your thoughts on the ‘Devine Command Theory’?” 

For some reason, every guy in my fantasies happens to be muscled former porn stars who took their fortunes to open some kind of environmentally responsible business. Like a Colt model-turned bike shop owner, or “after several years in the frat porn genre, making his way to open a vegetarian restaurant. I guess muscled green entrepreneurs turn me on. But, that’s not important right now…

What is important is that I will be completing a five page paper on the issues and theories of Ethics while Mister Twelve-pack-turned-organic-farmer enters the cabana next door. 

Damn you, Epicurus!!!! Your theory on enjoyment of life is wrecking my theory of getting laid by an ex-Sean Cody  star. 

Hotel Room Portraits

As I over-researched the perfect place on vacation in February, I stumbled upon an amazing photographer's collection. I have a thing for photography sites. Years of staying in hotels around the world this gay couple has documented their lives. This series has blown me away. Please check out Richard Renaldi's  Hotel Room Portraits.

Hotel Room Portraits

Learn more about Richard Renaldi




*Photo used without authorization or approval. Claim no rights. 

Stevie's Choice

I am glad to say that I have survived this semester of school. Now it’s time to relax and play, “school boy on winter break.” I’m very excited. 

As I’m on winter break, I have time to finally complete some over-due chores. This morning re-ignited a debate in the house. Where to stay the three days before the cruise in February. Or, what gay B&B shall we flop at for three days over Valentine’s Day. As you no-doubtfully are aware, I’m a gay ghetto gay. Meaning, if given the choice in life, I would love to live in the center of a gay neighborhood. Hence the choosing of vacationing a couple of days early in Fort Lauderdale verses Miami before our cruise on the 15th. To enjoy Fort Lauderdale’s gay village. 

The Cabanas

Leather Inn

 Two Guest houses top the list, one The Cabanas Guesthouse and Spa lives up to its name and has a gay men’s spa. Complete with hot stone massage. The clothing optional pool is also a nice, and necessary benefit. The other B&B has a clothing optional pool as well. It’s a... leather themed guest house called the Inn Leather. Seriously. The glossy brochure highlights a real leather sling in every room. Patrick suggested I inquire if they are Corinthian leather. “Our slings are covered in a fine Corinthian leather.”  Well, it will be over Valentine’s Day... Nothing says “I love you’ like an in-room sling. Whilst the Spa is nifty, the Corinthian (as we’ll now call it) also has free WiFi, and a better spread for breakfast... for me.

With either choice there is only 9 weeks until I get to recline next to a pool. All naked. 

Booked

I did it. I finally did it. 

I guess I wouldn't make a very good world traveller. Me, jet-setting off to all the global gay hot spots. Like haut and cold running circuit parties. Other than not being twenty five and having a cocaine habit, I am the worst procrastinator when it comes to booking air travel. I like to finalize a vacation, hop on-line to check out the travel sites, then wait a month, or two until the prices go up sixty to seventy bucks.* Why pay the cheapest fair when I can wait and pay more money? 

I finally did it. I booked my ticket to fly to Florida for the Big Gay Cruise in February. It’s a nice feeling to have it done, and that I didn’t pay too little for it. 

Since we’re flying out several days early, now I have to find a fun Bed & Breakfast in Miami or Fort Lauderdale. One that has a pool and is clothing optional. Please write in if you have any suggestions. I’ll wait until January to book the room. I have plenty of time. 

If you would like to join Patrick, me, and 4,000 of our closest friends on the boat, check out RSVP's site. Here. 

*Yes, I am aware of the “return site visitor price hike” I do clear my cookies. 

Labor Day

The Labor Day weekend was just the kick off to my "Late Summer Staycation." For me this is a quiet time to enjoy the ending of the crazy summer and welcome the fall season. This breather seemed to be the only time I could crank up the tunes and strip down to running shorts to give a well-deserved hand wax to the car in the local gay park. Truly a great way to meet people.

Labor Day found me relaxing with friends having a barbecue; it was just a  cat dangling afternoon....

After the symbolism of Labor Day betokening the end of summer, my mind too thought of fall. Well, new athletic shoes for fall. Mostly because everything makes be think of new athletic shoes. This prompted me to finally organize my obsession. So I went to the Homo Depot and bought a cart of this...

I then, turned it into this..

It's been a pretty great week off. As my home projects are done; today I'm off to the mall. The reorganizing of my running shoes gave me room to buy a couple more pair.

Ready to Cruise

Upon a Miller Lite infused conversation, during Patrick’s last visit, we decided that it was time for new gym bags. Thirteen-hundred dollar gym bags. 

In some sort of cosmic fate “I’m your density” type of thing, the next day I get the super hero like call from the BFF Frank... “It’s time to cruise.” Soon we assembled on a conference call and dialed the number to RSVP Vacations. Don Ofstedal a Guest Sales Coordinator for RSVP Vacations took our call.  The latest cruise through the Caribbean had just opened for booking hours earlier. “Hi Don, there’s seven of us on a conference call, we all need cabins on the 9th floor of the Divina Caribbean cruise.” 

One by one, we claimed our cabins by laying down our credit cards. Like the Ancient Spartans participating in the rights of becoming a man during the ritual Helots Killing, we slaughtered our next vacation. 

Just 9 months to go until our new gym bags.