How I Enjoyed My Summer

I was texting back and forth with a new friend the other day [Read: Scruff, hot young man, hoping for a couple of dates] and he asked me to explain why I had said that life was 'pretty darn cool'.  Being in need of a blog topic.....

I am not a wealthy man. I don't have a lot of material possessions. I don't have large amounts of liquid assets. I am never going to be rich like my grandfather.  By the time I was born, my father had blow through his dad's money and our family had fallen from upper middle class to poor.  I use to take on a feeling of loss as I dealt with financial issues over the years, as I watched others enjoy a finer life.  I felt a bitterness and a resentfulness as I dealt with the pain of not having.  At some point I got a different perspective.  I figured out, call me slow, that the greatest pain felt in this was that felt by my father.  He died at the age of 44, under and apple tree, from an undiagnosed heart condition related to alcoholism.  He drank himself to death due to the disease of alcoholism, guilt, and fear. 

When I attended Indiana University my first year out of high school, I learned to drink.  I had what I thought was a significant income for a poor boy from rural America from scholarships and the Social Security Administration.  I was not prepared for an influx of cash and for a lack of authority figures.  I made bad choices.  I made bad decisions.  And, I spent a lot of money on drinking.  

When I got out of college and fell in love I was taught how to use drugs.  That relationship was a fast ride down a destructive path that ended with me giving up drinking, smoking, and shooting up drugs.  I have been clean for 18 years.

It was during the process of getting and staying clean that I learned how to live and how to be a man.  In that process I learned the importance of seeking out and listing those things for which I am grateful.  Identifying what I am grateful for keeps me wanting those things in my life and, thus, makes me work at keeping them.  

But, gratitude is not just a mental exercise.  Gratitude is both attitude and action.  My favorite example is my car.  I don't have a fancy car.  As a matter of fact, it was an inexpensive purchase as new cars go.  It was, however, the first new car I had ever purchased.  It is small, gets great gas milage, and it fits my needs very well.  I have a good attitude about this little Yarus, but, attitude is only part of gratitude.  The action I take in regards to this is that I see to it that the payments are made monthly.  The car company did not have to give me a 0% interest loan.  They did not have to give me a loan at all.  But they did.  It is my responsibility to show my gratitude for their actions by making sure my actions keeps up my end of the bargain. 

Also during the process of getting and staying clean, I learned how to clean up the wreckage of my relationships.  I have done that.  I have gone back to all of those people I have harmed not with the intent of saying that I was sorry, hell, I had said that so much over the years that if I were to be believed then I would have been the sorriest SOB on this green earth, no, I did not say I was sorry, but I did make things right.  I paid any money that I still owed.  I replaced that what I had stolen.  I admitted where I had lied.  I fixed what I had broken.  For some people it was best that I not approach them because the damage was so great to even see my face would have caused more harm to them than I could repair.  So I made amends to those people by staying out of their lives and by fixing someone else's mistake that closely resembled mine.  There were trips to shelters, donations to non-profits, kindnesses to strangers.  I also had the opportunity to repair the relationship with my family.  The black sheep son/brother is now a productive member of the family providing not only for himself but for others in the family who are with difficult times.

our neighbor, my sister, me

So, Josh, here, at long last, is the answer as to why my life is so cool....

My sister was recently diagnosed with cancer.  She and my mother and her husband all live together in Yuma, AZ.  My sister is the most precious person in the world to me.  She has always had my back. No matter how high, how shitty, how thoughtless I was, sis would cover me.  My summer was so cool because by staying clean I was and am able to be there for her through this ordeal.  I took time off from work to ride with her and mom to the hospital that is 4 hours from their home.  As it turned out, mom had to have a cardiac procedure done days before sis was to have surgery.  Mom then ended up hospitalized, and then hospitalized again.  I had both mom and sis in hospital 4 hours apart from each other. I was able to take my nearly 30 years of nursing and help sis out with the confusion that is American Healthcare and to be her advocate.  I was able to save mom from her final hospitalization as the care started to deteriorate at that facility.  I was able to meet a challenge and not depend on a drink or  a drug to get me through it.  Don't get me wrong.  I did nothing special, nothing heroic.  I just showed up and did the next right thing.  And that is where the coolness is.  That is where my gratitude is.  I can be there for those I love and I can be there doing what needs to be done.  I may loose them tomorrow, or they may loose me, but this summer, damn it, I got to help.  I got to be present. I got to me a brother.  I got to be a son.  I got to be a man.

I do not measure my wealth by where I am in this world, but I do measure it by the distance I have traveled.  And in that methodology, I am the wealthiest son of a bitch in the room....

An Evaluation of Long-term Capturer Effects in Ursus maritimus

A Propositional Paper Stating Cause, Effect and Harm

     Admittedly, I am as gay as the next man.  I am old.  I am an American.  I am also fat, educated, and free of diseases.  Some would argue my cognition can be questioned, but, truly, I have no sense of senility, dementia or dogma.  I am just one of the many Average Joes in this fine country. Perhaps being an Average Joe may explain why I am having a problem understanding the substantial change that has occurred in The Gay World over the past 35 years.  The change has been subtle but constant.  It has perpetuated itself with the assistance of most if not all sectors of American society, but specifically, being edged on by mainstream America, and it has become so deeply buried into our gay psyche that I fear we are fast approaching the point of no return.  Stating the genesis, the change, the effects and the harm are but my toil.

    Background:  When I returned from my first trip to NYC it was 1979 and I fell out of the closet.  I could no longer deny what I had come to understand about myself as a person, as a young adult, and as a man.  I had no plans on who I was going to love or when I was going to love someone, but I suppose I did at least have an idea as to how I was going to love him.  Most of The Gay World was mysterious to me, and I had no mentors, but, I soon found the tribe and I was welcomed.  

     More Background:  I have always been defined as fat, either by others, or, as I am now, by myself.  I have not always been defined as handsome by others, as I am now, by myself.  In those early years of being gay identified, finding lovers [read: tricks] was difficult for me.  I thought the difficulty was due to my looks, and specifically my weight.  Looking back now I know that it was due more to the size of my home town than the size of my ass.  But, I do not discount the discrimination I felt due to being bigger than the average homo.  This discrimination was harsh, unloving [as all discrimination is], and it had substantial detriment to my image of self and my well being [as all discrimination does].  The discrimination was ever present.  It was also, however, controllable, but, I had no way of knowing this.  I did not know the power that I had.

     At some point, I began noticing that there were times when I did not feel this difference, this discrimination.  There were people who sought me out specifically for my size and my appearance.  There were men who would pass every young, handsome, Madison Avenue built homo in the bar, and reach out to me.  They were determined.  They were friendly.  They were rare.  And I never met one who took the first six no's as a definite answer.  They were the Chubby Chasers.  God how I miss them.

Taken from halfpint34's flicker page

Now don't get me wrong.  I am well aware there are gay men today who find men of size attractive.  Those men define themselves as Chasers.  They are a different bred than the Chubby Chaser of yore.  The Chubby Chaser has evolved into this type of Chaser and that is the difference I am writing about in this paper.

Today's American Chasers do not chase.  It has been bred out of their DNA.  They still have the ability to identify, sexually objectify, and skillfully mate with a gay fat man, but, the mating ritual has devolved. There are still Chubby Chasers to be found in the world, but the US breed has died off and their closest relatives are in Europe.  Mostly Italy.  God do the Italians know how to chase a fat man.

Post-Stonewall, the American Chubby Chaser had limited opportunities for mating.  The identified gay fat herd had been small in numbers since time immemorium, and with a very large percentage of gay men learning to fear weight gain[1] once Judy died[2] the numbers of overweight gay men declined even more. It was evolution that caused the Chubby Chaser to begin to adapt to the new social landscape.

The Chubby Chaser had to change it's mating habits or face total annihilation.  And then, when at the brink of a mass migration to Europe, the bear movement began in the United States. This movement allowed for a rapid expansion of not only the gay man's waist size, but also the total raw numbers of eligible fat men. These two events, the near sexual starvation of the Chubby Chaser and then the rapid explosion of fat gay men willing and able to breed caused the phenom we see today in the American Chaserless Chaser.

Chubby Chasers use to be nonstop in their pursuits.  When they found a fat gay man, they continually followed, hounded, flirted, and harassed, until they won their chance to mate[3]. Over and over and over again and again and again the onslaught kept coming.  Every weekend at the bar, every time you passed in the bathroom at Sears, every time you were in the bushes by the river, there he was, the Chubby Chaser.  He would ply you with stories of hope.  He would make promises of great meals.  He would offer weekends out of town.  He was a never ending invitation to sex.  At the time I found them most difficult to deal with.  What I wouldn't give to meet one tonight when I go out.

The American Chaserless Chaser, on the other hand, knows far to well that there are plenty of fat gay men today and that with minimal effort they can secure a date/trick/fuck.  With Growlr and Craigslist the Lone Star and Bear Bucks, all they have to do is show up and soon someone will show an interest and the game is a foot.  No need to be inventive.  No need to pay a lot of attention to any one fatty.  Just wait, and the next fat man will soon be by.

Today's Chaser is often socially awkward and shy.  I had never met a socially awkward and shy Chubby Chaser until 1996 at Lazy Bear.  I wasn't sure what I was seeing.  This strange young man who would look at me with longing in his eyes, but would turn his head or run to the other end of the pool whenever I smiled at him.  I was totally thrown by his responses and actions.  I was very perplexed by the situation. Since that time, that type of young man, the first documented Chaserless Chaser, has become more the norm than the exception.

America is a place where Chasers don't chase and fat men are accepting of this.  I am saddened and confused, hell, I am many things, but, the most concerning to me is that I am not hopeful.  I think I need a hero. Is it more wrong to long for the past or to simply accept the present?  I think I need a hero.  Is it wrong to wish for a romantic to come along and restore my faith in the Chasedom.  I think I need a hero. Is it wrong to long for someone who wants/desires/needs a whole lot of man.  I think I need... 

a Chubby Chaser.

 [1] Fags were the ones to make going to the gym cool.  When gay men headed to the gym in the early 80's to develop the masculine body their sexual desires demanded, straight women in the early 90's demanded that their mating partners do the same.  Women were pissed that there were hot guys all around them but not at all interested in them sexually.  It was the gay man who brought on the commercialization of the neighborhood gym.

[2] Stonewall Riots began immediately after the death and during the morning period of Judy Garlin.

[3] Rent "The Ritz". It's a cliché, but it is an accurate portrait

Food Blog: Sunday Dinner in October

I found a new neighborhood grocery store today.  It is cool.  It is also next to the European Grocery I found about a year ago.  They are near the Fine Arts Museum.   That is all I am telling you.  They are mine.  I won't make these stores a usual weekend stop, they are too far from the house, but, I will be there once a month or so.  Today, I hit both of them, then Whole Foods and then Safeway.  Before I get to tonight's menu, here is a pic I snapped at sunset as I was cutting across Twin Peaks from Whole foods to Safeway.

{OK I owe you a pic. I am full from dinner and dont want to go to the car and download the pics}{Yes... it's weak, but...}

Two weeks ago I found this great ground pork at Whole Foods.  I have made several meals with it since.  I even made a stop for another pound and a half last night.  Used half of that for Friday's dinner and used the rest of it in the soup tonight. Here is what I did tonight:

Soup:
Veggie Stock [double up on the cube] bring it to a boil

                              In the pot for the first 8 min boiling
Celery and carrots roughly cut

                              For the next 8 min boil I added:
baby season squash, green and yellow
Russian Smoked Turkey
Baby sweet bell peppers, yellow and red
Pork seasoned balls
          Two heaping table spoons of Better than Chicken Bouillon
           Sundried Tomatoes -- I bought them at Cost Co, they were soaked in Olive Oil
          3/4 pound of Pork
          Mixed all together, rolled into small balls, let them chill for 2 hours
          Then I fried the balls in a non-stick pan

                              For the last 9 min boil
green onions
mushrooms
marinated tomatoes [sweet peppers in a slight acid base [vinegar I think -- I got it at the Europe market]
and seasoning
        a little black lava sea salt
        ground pepper
        mustard powder [a lot]
        mustard seed [a lot]
        celery seed

When the past 9 mins were up I immediately took the soup off the fire and poured it into a cold bowl.

That was the soup.  I also had
duck pate
Olive Loaf Bread
Gouda with a fig spread

I am sure I took three months off my life, but DAMN it was good.

You Tube: somethings listed as my favorites, in no certain order

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3u8dz50GbVk&list=FLupS9JIhEx81TzorwBomPJQ&index=22

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=txOo9T1jn5Y&list=FLupS9JIhEx81TzorwBomPJQ&index=20

http://youtu.be/XGzIzUY16iw

Google Me

I am thinking that for anyone who blogs and works 40-50 hours a week, finding time to create posts full of information can be a little daunting.  So, of course, I try to write one or two stories a week, and the rest of the time, find information that is interesting, but doesn't take a few hours to create.  Sometimes it's a win, sometimes a bust.

Today's blog is an attempt to get interesting content, and yet save time.  It failed.  I could not believe what I was finding so I have spent the past two hours surfing.  Anyway, here we go....

I Googled my name, and here are the images I found.  There are a couple WTFs in here....

This one I understand.  This is Kirk Willett.  Famous cyclist.  He is the king of Kirk Willetts on the net.  Thats cool.  He has more press time than me.  It's all good

A famous cyclist 

Here is yet another hottie Kirk Willett.... you gotta see the link where I found this one though.  Follow it.

                                      http://florida.arrests.org/Arrests/Kirk_Willett_5286354/

And then 15, yes FIFTEEN entries into this search finally I show up.....

Cleofatra

Here I am in my highest budget movie [see previous blog for links]

This isn't my family's crest.  We have two chickens on ours.  Why, I have no idea

Blond Butch Kirk Willett

 Why in the hell did this come up.  The title said this was of Dick Willett.  I am guessing Dick is the third from the left

 And this.  WTF is this.  I google my name and I get my ex.... this is a recent pic, I can tell because of the elbow splint.  We had to have been divorced for well over a year when this was taken.  I have never seen this pic.  What in the hell did I do to Google?

Russ Flanagan.  The man who had for years first hit every man I have had sex with, except the ex [see above].  I am single and again, Russ, I find, has blazed the trail of every road I have been riding... and now he is showing up on my Google search.  This man is invasive.

This is from a personal set of photos a friend of mine took of me and the ex.  I did not even know they were on the next.

This one is probably from my past, and

the next is from my wish list

David Brooks: The social animal | Video on TED.com

David Brooks: The social animal | Video on TED.com

Sarah Kay: If I should have a daughter ... | Video on TED.com

Sarah Kay: If I should have a daughter ... | Video on TED.com

What we learned from 5 million books | Video on TED.com

What we learned from 5 million books | Video on TED.com

Ty's Texts, Episode One

TY: I just shat a Christmas Tree.  It had a base and everything [well a trunk, not a stand].  The evergreen part was made of little turd balls and as I'm standing there admiring my bowl work, I swear, the turd ball on top of the tree floated away like the topping of the Christmas Tree was being removed, in anima... it is my first Christmas moment of the 2011 season.  I thought of you.

TY: Tonight's blog will be poo related.

JOHN: That was the North Star, floating to the sky to guide the 3 kings to the inn where our lord will be born.

TY:  OMG THAT IS FANTASTIC!

JOHN: They will bring gold, frankincense and charmin.

TY: We have written tonight's blog... Thank you.

Free right to use: Internet

Liar

Cosmo

Fuck I hate when someone lies to me.
Today I realized the lie.
Perhaps it was my way of protecting myself.
Until I could handle the truth.
I have spent hours of mental resources contemplating.
Today it dawned on me.
They weren't adult enough to say the truth.
Because of their defects of character I have to deal with the pain.
Again.
Repackaged.
Old wound.
Fresh salt.
The caring/loving/unconditional/correct action would have been to tell the truth up front.
That would have been more painful for them.
What a deep lack of respect that showed for me.
Their friend.
Fuck.
Why can't people just learn to communicate.
I am ready to move back to the country.
Buy a small plot of land.
Live my life in solitude.
Don't put up with the bullshit that is required when one tries to be a productive member of society in an urban setting.
I hear Virginia's nice.

Costa Rica Vacation 2011

Ten Word Poems: He Crossed The Bridge

photo by: KPWillett

I was surprised he waited so long before texting me...
I was sure he would try to visit sooner...
I was not going to repeat the mistake...
I was never giving into him again...
I was determined to be free...
He was desperate to win...
He was coy today...
He was confident...
He won...
He...
....

Ten Word Poems: It's All About Timing....

photo by: KPWillett

I met a man online who people often called Billy...
I planned time to see him the next week...
I wasn't sure it was a good decision...
I was encouraged by his soft tone...
I hadn't dated for nine months...
He arrived with iced tea...
He found me alone...
He was late...
He smiled...
He...
....

Ex-Wife Tales: The Ending

We had been married nearly 5 years.  When we got married, she was my boss' boss.  Shirley thought it best if we did not tell anyone that we were going to marry.  I didn't care what people thought and was happy to go to city hall and do the deed in broad daylight.  However, I did care for her, and I wanted to see her comfortable and happy, so, I suggested New York City.  We eloped.

4 years and 7 months later, we are sitting on the sofa.  She is brushing her wet hair. I am planning my next surprised.  Actually, the next surprise was already planned, I am just wanted to lay the ground work for springing it on her.  With our anniversary coming up, some months ago we had talked about renewing our vows.  We would  invite everyone we knew.  This way it would make up for us not inviting anyone to the first service.

Doing this was going to be a lot of work, and a lot of money.  As I had come to see it, if we were going to fix one mistake, we might as well fix all of the mistakes we made that first time around.  Friends and family getting upset at missing the service was one thing, but other oversights could be corrected as well.

For example, if we were going to do the wedding over, the ring issue could also be addressed. The ring she selected in New York was perfect when we were on the DL. It was beautiful, yes, but, one would not call it conventional.   It left people saying, "That's your wedding ring?" I was tired of clarifying that she was my wife, and that the large amethyst ring was the symbol of our commitment.

Having a new wedding set also gave her the opportunity to wear just the engagement ring before we entered into the holiest of unions 2.0.  This idea had been buzzing in my head for several months.  I was leaning more and more towards this idea as the time got closer and closer.  Then one day, I had a free lunch hour and I went ring shopping.  I bought the rings.  This step directly lead me to....

Kirks Super Secret Plan To Get The Wife To Marry Him Again.  It went like this....

I contacted a swank restaurant in town, talked to the manager about my plan and needs and she helped me get it set up.  Two weeks from the day Shirley and I were sitting on the sofa, I was taking her to dinner for which the menu had been selected.  [Chicken Cordon Blue on a bed of wild rice with Vichyssoise, and roasted veggies.]  Red roses and yellow carnations were ordered and to be setting on our table that overlooked the Ohio River.  Reservations were 30 minutes before sunset.  A chocolate mousse cake was being delivered from the restaurant manager's sister who was a caterer in town.  On top of that cake were to sit the rings.  I went so far as to have a mutual friend of ours talk her into letting her look at one of Shirley's ring so she could estimate the size.  All the people at work new what was going down if only because I had to switch shifts to make this happen.

Here we are, sitting on the sofa.  I full of pride that I had been able to set all of this up without Shirley catching on to my plans.  I being incapable of keeping a secrete with out teasing, said, "Hey, our anniversary is coming up soon.  I think we need to start planning the wedding."  To which she replied, "I want a divorce."

To be fair, it was the right thing to do.  And the ends do justify the means sometimes.  My life is much better without her.  I cannot say, however, that I wasn't blind sided.  But as I have reflected on this over the years, I have realized that when she said those words, my feelings were not about the devastation that my marriage was over, but it was about the embarrassment I was going to have process in deconstructing the up coming plans.  And it was so odd to be concerned about what others would think at the end of this relationship, when I had been so unconcerned as to what they thought at the beginning of this relationship.

Forgive My Childishness

Please forgive my childishness, but.... I GOT MY FIRST BLOG FOLLOWER!  I just wanted to yell that.

I find Aunt Judy had listed herself as a follower at the end of a week where work rocked.  I entered the weekend on three really high notes.  [The third was San Diego Mike d' arriving to spend the weekend hanging out with me.]

Aunt Judy is this fascinating woman who is a member of my ex-partner Steve's family.  At a wedding a few years ago, about 6 years into Steve's and my relationship, I asked Aunt Judy where she sat in the family tree.  She told me the story of two sisters and how they were very close growing up.  So close, that when they married and started having children [she being one], the families just melded together in a very natural progression of the love these women felt for each other.  The families were together on the weekends, at weddings, at picnics, at funerals, on vacations.... they always hung out.  This caused cousins to be more like brothers and sisters. So much so in fact, that as they got older and started having children, those family units kept the tradition of hang out together, it got difficult to remember who was aunt / uncle and cousin / first cousin, etc.  So someone came up with the rule, If the person is older than you, they are your aunt / uncle.  If the person is younger than you they are your cousin.  Thus, Judy, who is no blood relation to me and is not an aunt to my former partner, is, however, our Aunt Judy.

My interactions with Aunt Judy are always random.  Neither of us attend every Reddell family event, but we go often enough.  [The Reddells also have a tradition that if a family member decides to divorce a spouse it does not mean the family decides to divorce that person.  There are three "ex's" that attend the family parties and get together.  I have been blessed to be one of them.]  I also get the random Facebook message from Aunt Judy regarding a post here or there that I have placed or linked.  Once she called me with questions about an ill family member.  Aunt Judy is like a Surprise Lily in the spring.  You always smile when you see them, but you just never know when that will be.

Three days of sunshine and warm nights in San Francisco, an Aunt Judy that reminds me that scripts in relationships change, but it doesn't mean you will loose the love, being on the top of my game at work, and a friend visiting from out of town.... what a great weekend/month/year/life.

My name was almost Ty.

Mom wanted to name me Ty.

Dad wanted to name me Thomas.

The argument continued into the pre-delivery room.

By the time I was cognizant of what constituted the parental units fighting, mom and dad could have some doozies.  I never knew dad to hit mom, and mom says he never did, but I remember the night he had the want in his eye.  It was the night mom and us three kids slept in a hotel.  When we got back the next day, every dish in the house was broken.  Yea, mom and dad could fight.  I suspect the name fight was not more than stubbornness run amuck.

RL, my daddy, had a buddy while he was in the service.  His name was Tom.  Dad name his first born after himself and wanted to name his second born son after his service buddy.  Dad and Tom were sharp shooters in the Marine Corps.  Daddy always bragged he could light a match with a rifle at one hundred yards.  I never saw the trick.  I did see him make a bottle of Stoli disappear in a hundred shots.  I saw that trick a lot.

Daddy may have loved Jesus, but he drank.  I don't know when it started but I have a pretty good idea that it was an issue for him while he was in the service.  He was a Corporal, until the morning following the night he and Tom, and some other buddy who has remained nameless all of these years, got a little tipsy [will I have Black Ops come after me because I posted that Marines get 'tipsy'?] and decided to play a little game at some construction site on base.  They stood nameless in front of a sheet of plywood, Daddy took the left side, and Tom took the right.  They pulled their service revolvers, started at the outside of his feet, meet at the top of his head--they shot an outline of nameless into the plywood.  The next morning, Daddy wasn't a Corporal any more.

I can understand that they bonded.  I see Dad's side of the name argument.  Mom, thank goodness, stood her ground, and would not agree to name her son Thomas.

photo by: Stephen Reddell

It was Aunt Rita who provided the end game.  While visiting mom in hospital, dad started in on the debate agin.  Aunt Ri, watching out for her older sister, stepped in a insisted that time had ran out and that the argument be settled once and for all.  Mom, in what I am sure was a loving and caring tone since she was just hours away from popping a 10+ pounder, repeated her insistence that if I were a boy I would not be named Thomas.  Dad said, "And I am telling you that my next son IS going to be named after Thomas Kirkpatrick, the best friend I have ever had."  Aunt Rita said, "Perfect!"  You both win.  Name him Kirk Patrick.

I love my mom.  I love my Aunt.  And, I love my name.

More Than I Could Chew: The Movie

More Than I Could Chew, part 1

More Than I Could Chew, part 2

More Than I Could Chew, final

My Summer Reads

Henning Mankell's Daniel ~ an innocent boy's life is destroyed by the self-centered acts of those around him.
Excellent read *****

Linda Lutz's The Spellman File ~ laughed out loud in a restaurant during the height of the dinner hour [I'm single, OK, I eat alone all the time.  Back off]
Very Entertaining ****

john green and david levithan's will grayson, will grayson ~ i have found my soulmate in character of tiny cooper.  such a well developed story written separately by two writers then woven together.  

another great, entertaining find *****

Steven Saylor's Roma: The novel of Ancient Rome.  Rachel Fairbanks, a lady I work with, purchased this for me from as a gift from my co-workers.  Her decision was based on the book being about Rome and that it was listed on the NYT Bestseller list.  What a great gift. What a fantastic read*****

Bing West's, The Pepper-Dogs.  My sister highly recommended this one.  She said she could not put it down.  I thought that was an overstatement until I found myself parked next to the AIDS Memorial Grove in Golden Gate Park reading the last two chapters because I could not drive the remaining 10 minutes of my 45 minute commute home without finding out what the hell happened.  The ending pissed me off.  That fact in and of itself does not mean I didn't like the book.  Sometimes I like things that piss me off.  Hell, I was married to Shirley for 5 years.... ****

Lee Vance's The Garden of Betrayal.  I really liked this read.  Good mystery and the words flowed nicely across the page. ****

Laura Wilson's An Empty Death.  I just couldn't get into it.  She spent too much time laying the ground work for what I suppose was going to be a mystery in a mystery.  And, the setting was not one I was interested in reading about.  London getting bombed.  Just lost interest. **

Just Picked up from the Glenn Park Branch....

There Is Something You Should Know About Me....

photo by: free use rights off the internet

...I eat.

I don't mean, I-am-human-therefore-I-take-in-sustenance-eat. No....

...I eat.

I've gotten so good [???] at it that I have a special set of shirts I wear when the eatin needs to be at a professional level.  They are comfortable, able to expand, and mostly stain free.  They are of neutral colors to go with the eatin pants that I usually have in my wardrobe but do not now because of the weight I have lost over the past two years.  Now all of my pants are comfortable, too large and mostly stain free.  No need to cull out a pair or two for those 'special occasions'.

I have not had an eatin shirt wearing dinner experience in a long time.  As a matter of fact, the last time I did was when I took my friend Ben to Memphis Mini's in the lower Haight and told him I would buy if he would order more food than any one may should eat on any one occasion.  Pigs, cows, and chickens were massacred that night.  I left several pounds heavier than when I arrived.  Ben, well, lets say he was sated.  Not that I don't want to say more about Ben, but this is his first appearance in Fattitude, and, he is a devoted reader, so I don't want to offend him.... just yet.  I digress.

...I eat.

I blog to you this revelation because A] I needed a reason to avoid the house work tonight, and B] I stopped and brought home Cheap Chinese for dinner.  Cheap Chinese has been a Castro Street main stay since before I arrived here 17 years ago.  They use to be a lot cheaper than they are now, but they are still easily accessible, fast with service and mediocre with the food [prices went up, quality did not].  So, as I have done for low these many years, I purchased my dinner that included 2 appetizers, a main course, a desert and a 'drive home' food.  To specify: 3 shrimp dumplings, 3 pot stickers, a medium sesame chicken and two sesame balls.  These were the dinner foods. A good meal for two people, let alone one.  But note, I did not stop there.  I purchased something to eat in the car for the drive home.

The drive home is three minutes if there is traffic.  As I leave the shop, I know I am going to be in my home and have food in my mouth in under five minutes, but still, I HAVE to buy drive home food. Tonight is no different than any other visit.  I cannot not buy drive home food, and I get the same drive home food I have purchased for years.  Fried chicken legs.  3 per order. $2.69. Tonight, walking back to the car I realized what I was doing.  I realized that out of rote behavior I over purchased dinner and made some very poor food choices.  I realized how ridiculous this drive home food plan has been. As I jaywalkedcrossed Castro Street I made my mind up then and there not to eat any food until I got home.  There was no cause for me to be a captive to my past behavior especially since it is a self-destructive action that satisfies only earthly whims and includes a food with the nutritional value of a Hostess Twinkie.  I was parked at the BofA.  10 yards to make it to the left turn lane onto 18th Street.  10 blocks up 18th, turn left again and a quarter of a mile to my apartment.  Again, this means my apartment is 3 minutes away.

The drive home food was in my mouth before I finished the left turn onto 18th.

...I eat.

I could beat myself up and tell myself what strangers would say if they comprehended my actions.  But, I am a lot nicer than most strangers, and it is my responsibility to love me, it is not the stranger's job.  And, the way that I figure it, I have given up smoking, playing the horses, wild women, drinkin and drugin and that leaves just men and food.  How in the hell can I pick between between those two, a sausage and a sausage?  My life is good.

The Underground Chubway

No one really can recall when it started.  There have been chubby chasers as long has there have been fat gay men.  But I suspect that with the advent of the Bear Scene in San Francisco in the 1980's soon after the first and second station houses came into being on The Underground Chubway.

photo by: free use rights off the internet

It is really very simple.  Americans are big and Europeans are not.  And, as is human nature, we want that what is exotic to our norm. So, when a handsome fat American gay shows up on the shores of any of the old countries, he gets noticed.  Well, noticed and laid.  Its why handsome fat American gays love to tour Europe.  We may not admit it, but it is a driving reason.

The Underground Chubway is a child of the Mother of Necessity and the Father of Ingenuity.  A handsome fat American gay arrives in London.  He goes to XXL on a Wednesday night.  He meets Bin.  He and Bin hit it off.  Bin casually asks where handsome fat American gay is headed next.  Usually its to Paris.  Bin says, I have a friend in Paris.  Lets see if he is free.  He may have room for you at his place.  Sure enough, Pierre is free and, sure, any friend of Bin is a friend of his.  Pictures are exchanged. Dates are made.  Handsome fat American gay is then shuttled off to the next station house.  This repeats itself through out all of Europe. One more chaser, sending one more chub to one more friend's house in one more city.

I have never ridden the Underground Chubway.  But I know of people who have.  The results are always the same.  The handsome fat American gay always love the experience, but, is devoutly void of sex for several weeks post vacation.  Seems having to put out nightly for your room, takes a lot out of a guy.