Monthly Archives: November 2008

Of The Instant

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Well today is Wednesday and it’s certainly been one of those days. But first of course, last night. Bill was so sad. Dealing with his mother’s health and his cousin’s husband’s idiocy and lack of compassion which is only practiced on Sundays in that household it seems.

I did my best to help Bill. Just being there for him is enough I guess. He packed up his clothes as well as various items he might need and got them ready to bring with him to work, and then to Stuyvesant Town. I helped him with his bags this morning, taking a later bus and carrying one of his bags to his office on my way to work.

While Bill and I were talking, Harpy called. Bad news for Harpy, he’s been laid off. They gave him two weeks notice. It sucks but he’ll make some dosh working at Farfetched which in itself might be on thin ice financially. I don’t even know if they’ll need me this holiday season. It would be nice, but perfectly understandable if that doesn’t work out.

I got to the office this morning which was under construction. Everything was out of place or all over the place. Not my ideal place to walk into. After about an hour I decided to go out and run some errands which I usually do later in the day. Also got my shoes shined since I wanted to look good for the demonstration tonight. I heard you get points for your appearance.

Vivek returned from India with a deal made and him telling me that I will have a job until March 2010 so I guess I should say ‘thanks but no thanks’ to the application for the Obama/Biden administration. I requested one as a lark when visiting Obama’s website to tell them my story last week.

I stayed later than usual at the office since I had plans to make it to the No on Prop h8 demonstration outside the mormon temple at 65th Street and Columbus Avenue. Things had calmed down considerably in the office by then and I sat at my desk making a sign and playing Erik Satie, Gymnopédies – 1. Lent Et Douloureux which is nice and relaxing and perfect for making signs.

I made my way across town listening to Gang of Four to psych myself up with some agit-pop. Also stopped in De La Concha cigars and treated myself to a nice cigar, a La Flor Dominicana Double Ligero.

I was in a pretty good mood and looked good as well. You don’t see too many guys in suits and ties at political demonstrations. I followed the crowds walking up Broadway to the meeting place and unfolded my sign and chanted and yelled with everyone else.

We were on both side of Columbus Avenue, I was penned in, in front of the temple telling them what we wanted and when we wanted it. Equal Rights! Now! Not special rights mind you, equal rights like all married couples. There was a larger group across the street penned in a traffic island shouting the same things. Tax This Church!

Somehow, we got permission from the police to march down Broadway. They stopped traffic as thousands of us marched and yelled and cheered. Some people joined us from the sidewalk as we marched.

I caught up with Andres, a fellow blogger who writes Blabbeando which is in the sesame seed blogroll. After chatting online for a while, we finally met. Nice guy he is. Knows many people. Kept running off to say hello to this one or that one.

After marching to Columbus Circle, it all seemed to peter out. Andres was heading back to Queens, me to Hoboken. We made tentative plans to have dinner sometime. My cigar extinguished while marching in the crowd. Didn’t want to bother anyone with the smoke, nor did I want to hear any complaining about it.

I lit up again after crossing Central Park South and smoked it, taking my time walking down Eighth Avenue, passing dozens of police cars on stand by, perhaps ready to bust some heads should something go wrong. It was a boisterous crowd so rioting was unlikely to happen with the police, stoic and sitting in their cars.

A few blocks south of that, a few police vans and squad cars were zooming up Eighth Avenue lights and sirens a blazing. I made it to the bus, got a seat and continued reading The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein.

Bill at his mother’s still cleaning and shredding and working his way through his anger for his cousin’s husband. Who knows how long he’ll be in Stuyvesant Town? It’s good to be home, but it would be better if he were here or with me at the demonstration.

My sign, perhaps a bit wordy or slapdash…

Everyone else

Andres

Night School Observers

There’s something to be said about marching with thousands of people, gay and straight for equal rights. Also a good reminder that gay people come in all shapes and sizes. The cookie cutter image of gay people is so last century…..

It’s Too Bad

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On the cusp of O turning into RM, after O’s excellent editorial regarding Prop h8 in California, I get a phone call from my brother Frank. He watches O religiously, and I guess I do too. O was over and I guess RM isn’t his type so despite the fact that I’m watching RM he calls to ask me if I saw O’s Special Comment. I tell him I did and it’s basically what I’ve been thinking and feeling the past few months.

I tell him of my plans to demonstrate outside the mormon temple on Wednesday night with a few other bloggers in my poppy seed blogroll. He advises me to not get into trouble so as not to alert the O’Reilly factions. I want to tell him it would be more like Grant Park 2008 as opposed to 1968, but I guess he just wanted an easy going conversation and here I was getting all radical.

It’s too bad, I would have loved to have talked to him about the past week. I wrote that last night, after I posted and after the phone call. I was obviously bothered by the whole thing and kept it to myself. Actually not really keeping it to myself since I am posting it here.

Frank’s wife Elaine, told me that he definitely likes to talk (when he can find the words), he’s just not so good at listening.

Now Bill is home, literally hat in hand. He’s upset that he’s going to have to take his mother out of his cousin Elsie’s apartment. That’s where his mother has been since Elsie was adamant about not wanting her Aunt in a nursing home.

Elsie’s husband, Andy Capp, the faux crooner has been very abusive towards Bill on the whole matter, calling him names and generally belittling him every chance he could get. You see Andy Capp with his series 7 broker license doesn’t work. Just practices being a crooner all day long.

Food on the table? That’s his wife’s job. Clothing their kids, let Elsie do that too. Here is this bald headed scumbag treating Bill like shit as if Bill wasn’t feeling bad enough. So Bill is going to take his mother out of there and set her back up in her own apartment.

That means after the helper that’s been looking after Bill’s mother leaves, Bill will leave work and tend to his mother without the help of Elsie or the abuse of Elsie’s do nothing husband. Bill is all torn up and once again I offer a shoulder to cry on and ears to listen.

The bed will be bigger without him, but it will always be here for him. I just love how people use the bible to justify their hatred, their fears. Elsie seems so hip and with it but she actually uses that old tome to make decisions on how to live her life and to justify not explaining to her kids why ‘Uncle’ Billy isn’t going to get married to a woman, and now why Bill isn’t going to be around much, if at all.

Even if Jesus existed, I’m pretty sure this isn’t how he wanted his followers to behave. Speaking of which, tomorrow night is the night when I will be joining fellow No on Prop 8 supporters demonstrating outside the mormon temple at 65th and Columbus Avenue at 6:30.

Started out the day reading about Thomas Friedman in the New Yorker, rode on the bus home reading about that dead bastard Milton Friedman in Naomi Klein’s excellent book, The Shock Doctrine.