Well it’s been one of those (pardon my French), mother fucking days. It didn’t start out that way though. Waking up was a chore, probably as much of a chore as it is to read about me taking a shower, having a cuppa, and a bowl of cereal. It looked like rain which for a Monday was all that was needed. I couldn’t complain, I did have a three day weekend, spending time with Juan, Bill and Billie in that order, and I have to admit it was great having Bill laying in bed next to me last night. Not too close though because home boy emits waves of heat and it’s been too damn hot. A light touch here and there helped, not too much.

So I got out of bed and soon found myself waiting for the bus which wasn’t too crowded. I guess a lot of people took this week off. Good for them, good for me. I read Oliver Sacks article about people who suffer some sort of head trauma and wind up becoming obsessed with music. That could explain a lot about me. I did crack my head open three times when I was growing up. One time while playing in a standing hamper which fell over and I hit the back of my head on the metal frame of my bed. Blood everywhere. Before that, which I don’t remember, I was running through the kitchen while my mother was talking to Mrs. Grant from down the street. I had the misfortune to run past Mrs. Grant’s legs as she was crossing them, causing me to fly through the air and tearing open my forehead on the sharp edge of the ‘ice box’. The other time was when I fell out of Annemarie’s bed while she was away somewhere, I hit my head on the night stand. So where is my music Dr. Sacks? Hmmm? I should have enough for at least three symphonies, wouldn’t you think?

Work was weird. Vivek was mighty upset that Tom Chin left the office early. I knew he was leaving early, but Vivek didn’t want to hear it from me, he wanted to hear it from Tom Chin himself. So Tom Chin either got an earful this afternoon while he was at home, or he will get it tomorrow. Never saw Vivek so upset before, but I was just glad it really had nothing to do with me.

Throughout the day I come up with ideas on what to write and I was going to write a hatchet job about Maggie Alexandre, someone who tried to get me fired a couple of years ago. She was at the Human Be-In in San Francisco 40 years ago and all that, but no hippie chick she. After all she tried to fire me. But I came home and found two interesting stories courtesy of http://gay365.com.

One was about the Florida State Representative, Bob Allen. Seems like Bob Allen who has a hard on for anti gay measures. From 365gay.com: In the last session of the Florida legislature he sponsored a failed bill that would have tightened the state’s prohibition on public sex. He also has been a supporter of amending the state constitution to ban same-sex marriage and has opposed a bill to curb bullying of gay students.

What a guy that Bob is huh? Well last month, Mr. Married Man, Mr. Anti-Gay was busted for offering 20 dollars to an undercover cop. Seems that Bob Allen wanted to pay the cop so that the honorable state representative could blow the police officer. According to the statement recorded by the undercover cop, Bob Allen was nervous due to the amount of black people in the park area. Makes sense to me. Cut and paste time:
http://365gay.com/Newscon07/08/080607allen.htm

The other story from 365gay.com was the tried and true power ballad that’s been sung way too often. A gay couple, Patrick Atkins and Brett Conrad were together for 25 years. Patrick Atkins falls ill due to an anyeurism and a stroke, leaving him incapacitated. Brett gets to his side as soon as he can only to find Patrick’s parents having him banned from the hospital room. The hospital staff, sympathetic, bent the rules and got Patrick in to see Brett when the parents left. Then Brett was moved to a nursing home, where once again, the sympathetic staff snuck Patrick in, so he could care for the one that he’s loved for the past 25 years. Now Brett is in the ‘care’ of his family, at home, effectively killing most chances of Patrick seeing Brett again.
Cut and paste again:
http://365gay.com/Newscon07/08/080607indy.htm

This type of thing has been going on for ages now. This just one of the benefits that same sex marriage would allow, for a partner to care for and make decisions when the other is incapacitated. I can feel the opponents of same sex marriage cringing as they feel threatened by this fact. These are the types of people that make me sick.

Sunday night, the feeling of homework still to be done, books still to be read, well I’m not feeling that way. I used to feel that way growing up, but it would usually involved spending a Sunday afternoon at the VFW, then coming home in the back seat behind my parents who were discussing whether or not to order a pie from Lodi Pizza. They usually ordered a pie and sent Brian or Annemarie out to go get it since Lodi Pizza didn’t deliver. I would wind up sitting shotgun with a hot pizza in my lap, trying not to let the cheese slide off the pie.

Tonight I went into the city to meet up with Billie and see a movie. Tonight’s choice was The Simpsons Movie. Billie never watched the Simpsons on TV so it was a gamble. He was willing to see it and he loved it and laughed throughout. I recommend it, and with Billie as my witness, you don’t have to watch it on TV in order to get the movie. Billie couldn’t believe the show has been on TV close to twenty years and that no one has aged on the show. Bart is always 10 and Homer will always be 38. And Billie will always be 39, but that’s between you, me and the wall.

Bill came home from the National Black Theater Festival in Winston Salem, full of tales of the people people he met and the plays and readings that he saw. He came back so inspired and it was good to see. He was also full of love for me which I think was sweet. He sounded so emotional on the phone when he called me from Newark Airport after landing. He also has plans to go on vacation again. I asked him where he would like to go and he said, Arcata. I’m sure he’ll be working on that sometime, hopefully he’ll tell me about it too.

Bill was bushed from the flight so he stayed home when I went into the city to meet up with Billie. Afterwards Billie and I looked for someplace to eat. I suggested Simply Pasta on 41st Street but it being a Sunday they were closed, though they always were open when I walked by other odd times of the day. We wound up walking up Sixth Avenue, through the remnants of a street festival that had closed an hour earlier. Billie suggested going to the restaurant we went to the last time we had gone out to dinner, so it was off to the Film Center Cafe.

We decided on the Sunday night special which had a Mexican theme, burritos, quesadillas, jalenpenos and a pitcher of complimentary sangria which was just a few grapes away from being vinegar. It was a good meal nonetheless though personally I am still partial to the burritos in Hoboken, specifically Mision Burrito. Billie and I parted ways at the bus terminal, he headed to Secaucus and me headed to Hoboken.