Archive: August 2006

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Aug 26 06: outward bound

Right. Bags packed, boots laced. Off to catch a plane to Reno, Nevada, for two nights with Mom; and then the desert.


Aug 23 06: on days and nights in the desert

Hi. I’m not dead.

All kinds of stuff going on at the moment about which you either know already or you’re happier not. On top of it all, I’m prepping as fast as I can to go spend a week in the desert at the art-in known as Burning Man. I catch a plane on Saturday morning—which is the day after my birthday—and spend two nights with Mom and then I get swept up in a twin-engine Cessna Art Plane, with eyes painted on and all suchlike, and spend seven days in an alternate reality. An alternate reality in the form of a temporary town of 30,000 people that springs up in the middle of an alkali flat in Nevada. My beloved cousin Erika has been doing this for years and assures me that (a) BM is somehow a Thing That Will Be Perfect For Me; (b) I’ll have fun; and (c) she won’t let me die. Okay, what the hell.

So lots of packing: everything from good socks and dustproof goggles and Nalgene water bottles to my trusty Utilikilt and a length of EL Wire and a quantity of midnight-blue body paint. (Because you can never be too prepared.)

I’ll be well outside of communications range during the event, encountering things like this and this and these.

What am I thinking? What will become of me? Are those ever the questions of the day; but as yet I have no answers. More eventually.


Aug 14 06: ‘where I come from we kill you’

Joel had an encounter on the subway the other day: a couple of West Indians who decided that they could play Menace the Faggot with impunity. He stood up to them, in a way that (a) displayed his trademark wit and (b) was, even in his own words, “unwise.” I suspect he came pretty close to getting himself killed, or seriously messed up at the very least.

I have not yet met Joel. Right now, I want to smack him upside the head for taking such a risk, and then shake his hand and buy him a beer. And I’m ashamed of that first reaction, because it is by not standing up to such ill-treatment by strangers that we teach them that faggots will just meekly accept whatever bullshit they care to dish out. Joel is my hero; I’m just glad that my announcement of this is linked to his blog, rather than his obituary.

You sort of forget that this happens here in cosmopolitan New York. But as one of Joel’s readers points out, “New York is an incredibly diverse place, and that diversity includes assholes who hate gay people.” I’ll try to keep that in mind.


Aug 8 06: facepalm

Aieeeee.

I have just discovered that my final ms of “Albedo,” aka Optimistic Story, was sent to the anthologist with a couple of words highlighted in bright blue. It was a flag for myself to triple-think the wording, because it was a crucial piece of foreshadowing.

And the editor gets it highlighted. Dammit.

I have no idea how this went out with the highlighting still in place. I was sure I checked for that kinda stuff. While I’ll grant you that it’s probably not the sort of thing that will sink a submission all by itself, it feels like a boneheaded goof to make: “Hello! I don’t proofread my manuscripts!” And given that I’m still waiting on the editor’s response (we’re at about 2 months at this point, so I assume it’ll be a while), it only serves to make me that little bit twitchier.

Again I say unto thee, Aieeeee.


point of information

Paul is 40 today!

And I’m not. Neener, neener, neener. Happy birthday, sweetie.


Aug 1 06: moving day

New YorkersMy sister’s family is on the way to the airport. The cat has been sedated for the flight to Minneapolis; the furniture is on a truck that pulled away from their little house on Long Island yesterday.

We grew up in San Francisco. I left the West Coast in 1988 and never really looked back. I got used to not having family within 3,000 miles of here. So having my little sister, whom I adore, and her charming husband move out here about five years ago was a real gift. And then they had these amazing kids, see, and… and being an uncle is the greatest thing ever. Being the sort of uncle who could nip out for a weekend at their house was indescribable.

But now they have a new job, and a new house, in a new state. These are wonderful things. These things will improve their quality of life tremendously.

I miss them already.

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