In The Life

American media is screwed, over spun. We can have nothing gay it seems in mainstream media unless it's about interior decorating or fashion makeovers. I'm not asking to see men having sex together on prime time TV (but I wouldn't mind). I mean, would it have been so bad if Will or Jack had partnered with a great guy by the time Will & Grace had come to a close? After all, Karen and Grace each got married and divorced. We can just ignore the Jack + Rosario plot line as that dealt more I feel with undocumented workers rather than anything gay or straight. If you've got the money for cable or DVD collections, you can see what's happening on Six Feet Under, Queer As Folk or The L Word, but even in those remarkable programs, the mark sometimes gets missed; too much is spent on sex, and not enough is spent on people, graphically I mean. Why do we have to wait until June, Pride month, before we get regular feedback in the media anyway? It's not like nobody is gay the other 11 months of the year.

A little picture of me

Me voilà à mon mobile. Here I am on my cell.

"Summer time

...and the living is easy." As a teacher, I find that my summers are relatively free for me to do as I please. I stay up too late, watch too many movies, read a lot, though much of what I read isn't the quality I plan. Internet chat and lounging by the swimming pool take too great of the portion of my free time rather than spending it on drawing and painting as I should. When the school year begins anew, I want to have refreshed my creative sensibilities and not just those pertaining to my couch potato esprit.

Wicked

Here's my recommendation for summer reading--Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire. It's a sort of prequel to L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The book focuses on Dorothy's verdigris nemesis, chronicling her origins and metamorphesis into the infamous witch. I highly recommend it. Check out my profile (SWANK) on bookcrossing.com to find out when I'll release my copy.

Voilà, je commence.

D'accord, c'est le début.

So here I begin. In a matter of two more days, I reach the start of my 37th year. There will be no fanfare, I'm almost positive. Perhaps I'll have a soy lattè at the new café. Or maybe I'll sleep late in John's hotel room in Commerce. No matter what, I don't want to be alone. My children will be with their mother, where I am loathe for them to be, and not just on my birthday. In what is supposed to be my year, the Year of the Rooster, 3rd cycle in my lifetime, I'm not having the best of luck. I must have misread information about the Asian Zodiac. I'm not sure that it would have been any better any other year. This custody battle with my ex-wife Morgan has turned into a nightmare. I cannot bear to be without my children. When they are gone, it is hard to fill up my time with anything of worth.

This is an exercise in self-loathing maybe. One I shall end soon because I'm sure it will bore readers quickly.