Memorial Day 2011

My husband is named for his uncle, his father's brother, who was killed in WW2. There is a beautiful & stark memorial to the citizens of Washington State that gave their lives while defending our country. The Garden of Remembrance is a half-acre, L-shaped garden along the sides of Benaroya Hall (home of the Seattle Symphony). Memorial walls of granite, lined by slender reflecting pools, are oriented so that the names face the western sun. In addition to the walls, a poem honors veterans who died in World War I; a reflecting pool honors those missing in action; & a fountain honors those who died in peacetime service. The memorial was designed by Robert Murase, a noted landscape architect. The Garden was dedicated on July 4, 1998.

Not long after the memorial was completed, the Husband was walking in front Benaroya Hall & glanced up & immediately (not knowing that it even existed) saw his own name engraved with the date of his death in England in 1944. He claims that his eyes went directly to it, although the memorial had thousands of names. The Husband said it was a Twilight Zone Moment.

The Husband served in the US Army during the Vietnam War Era (1971-77). I feel blessed that he is with me today & not a name on a War Memorial.

The Husband learned at his father's funeral, summer 2010, his uncle was mostly likely gay. He was a theatre & dance major before going to war & he wrote home to his brother about how cute the other service men were. The letters were destroyed, but the Husband believes it to be true & his namesake messy personal life explains many things about his family dynamics.

John & CC Have New Hats

As one of my pals professed: "I really like your blog, but I like the stuff about you... not the birthdays of dead gay people". I started to collect vintage (1860-1980) photographs of men together a decade ago. I have more than 100. I was sharing them with readers of Post Apocalyptic Bohemia, but I began to wander away to other subjects along the way.

I borrowed against my IRA to catch up on the bills & repairs. It has been an interesting experience to usually not have any cash for some fun. I long ago decided that a perfect day included going to a part town with which I am not familiar, some bucks in my jeans & no agenda. I earmarked a tiny portion of the cash flow to just such a plan. I took the Husband with me because... well, I sort of had to.

The Husband found some swell stuff to use in projects for his BOYS' FORT, & I found this photo, at the best salvage store that I have encountered: Old Portland Hardware & Architectural.

I find this photo to be one of the very finest I have added to the collection. It is certainly the sweetest of a sweet selection of snapshots & formal portraits of men in couples or groups from the past 150 years.

The names are written in pencil: John Fuller & CC Brown. The rest of the piece is a perfect embossed paper in a Victorian pattern. I love these 2 gentlemen. What is their story that led to this portrait?

Would you like to see more of the collection?

Born On This Day- May 11th... The Great Irving Berlin

On a late summer evening in 1978, a jaw-droppingly handsome young man with deep blue eyes, stood straight up lower center stage, & with a sweet pure tenor, sang the 1924 Irving Berlin tune- What’ll I Do? for an audition. I was impressed with his good looks & his talent. I cast him. A year later this young man would tell me that he was in love with me & wanted to spend every moment with me until the end of his life, while Harry Nillson sang What'll I Do on my stereo in the background. This handsome man would eventually become my Husband & I would spend more than half of my life at his side.

This is the man who auditioned to become my husband by singing an Irving Berlin song, circa 1978.

Irving Berlin wrote for Broadway & Hollywood. He composed 17 complete scores for Broadway musicals & revues, including the phenomenal score for ANNIE GET YOUR GUN. Among the Hollywood movie musical classics with scores by Irving Berlin are TOP HAT, FOLLOW THE FLEET, ON THE AVENUE, ALEXANDER'S RAGTIME BAND, HOLIDAY INN, THIS IS THE ARMY, BLUE SKIES, EASTER PARADE, WHITE CHRISTMAS & THERE'S NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS. His songs have provided memorable moments for other films, from THE JAZZ SINGER in 1927 to HOME ALONE in 1991. Among his many awards are Grammys, 2 Tony Award & the Academy Award for WHITE CHRISTMAS in 1942.

He was born 103 years ago today... Irving Berlin, not the Husband. 

Gone is the romance that was so divine.
'tis broken and cannot be mended.
You must go your way,
& I must go mine.
But now that our love dreams have ended

What'll I do
When you are far away
& I am blue
What'll I do?

What'll I do?
When I am wond'ring who
Is kissing you
What'll I do?

What'll I do with just a photograph
To tell my troubles to?

When I'm alone
With only dreams of you
That won't come true
What'll I do?

What'll I do with just a photograph
To tell my troubles to?

When I'm alone
With only dreams of you
That won't come true
What'll I do?

Sunday Morning Intercourse

Stephen: When is it that we are doing that next week?
The Husband: It is scary... I am really having trouble remembering things.
Stephen: Me too. I am always forgetting things.
The Husband: That is not true. You remember everything... You say things like: 'You know what happened on this day 23 years ago?' You JUST DON'T HEAR THINGS!

Drive

Somehow I feel the failure, partly because there is a sting of truth in it, & partly because I tend toward anthropomorphism, grieving for the loss of life for a plant, believing that electronic equipment hates me, & knowing that I failed in my love for an automobile.

I have always held that Happiness is not a state of being, but rather Happiness is in the moments. For a few tiny moments in my considerable life, the stars aligned, my luck stuck, & all the points came together & everything worked. That was when I experienced an extended era of ecstatic enchantment. The blessed bliss brought prosperity, pleasure & possibilities for a life well lived.

The early 1970s: goofy, original good looks that only the young can posses because they don’t understand that it will all be gone someday. I could do nothing wrong. It all came easy to me: meaty roles in the theatre, meaty men in my bed, attention, admiration, humor, hilarity & hopefulness. Boston, LA & NYC.

Seattle 1982- 1989: Hot boyfriend, hot apartment, hot buzz about my acting on stage & in commercials, films, & TV. My image is on the side of buses, on the back page of the newspaper, on billboards, & I am mentioned in the press. We can rarely go a day without my being recognized & commented on by strangers & feted by friends. The hot boyfriend considers that it may not be all that good for me, but he remains a fan, attending all of my opening nights. I gym daily. I have single digit body fat. Sexual performance is never an issue. Never a mention that I might party too much.

Portland 2002-2006: comfortable, curious, & cultivated. We own our own home for the first time. Our Own Home. The boyfriend becomes my husband. We have respectable employment. The Husband is thin, tan, talented, sleek & sexy. He wears beautiful clothing at work & no clothing at the beach. We have hundreds in checking & thousands in savings. We vacation in NYC, seeing Broadway shows & shopping. We weekend in Palm Springs, imbibing & inhaling poolside.

For a couple of weeks, I had been eyeing a bronze Volkswagen station wagon at a car lot on the way to the gym. On one of those happy days, I walked into the lot & drove out in that station wagon. After decades of driving clunkers, I had a real automobile for the first time & it felt fine.

In my beautiful new car, handsome silver fox husband at the wheel, singing along to Tegan & Sara’s Walking With A Ghost & Dave Matthew’s American Baby from my summer mix, driving along a rustic rural road on Sauvie Island on a perfect August morning, headed to the nude beach with a book, blanket, & a thermos of vodka lemonade, having already dropped a half a hit of E… I was experiencing perfectly, profoundly happiness.

2011: barely1 ½ incomes, bills, hospital visits, prescriptions, old dog, crushing depression, strained relationships, strained budget, strained bank accounts. Yesterday, it was agreed that the Volkswagen would go. I calculated that we would save us $8000 a year by not paying car payments, insurance, gasoline, & maintenance. We will sock it away & someday purchase an old pick-up truck so we can go to Lowes, the salvage shops & nurseries. We will join ZipCar for $75 a month for 15 hours of driving (enough for the Husband to deal with clients). They pay the insurance & the fuel. ZipCar has a car parked just at the end of our block.

We will not be able to be able to be spontaneous. If the Husband forgets an ingredient in tonight’s dinner, it will require a trip to the supermarket 10 blocks away.

I have that tingle of tumult for trying something strange & unaccustomed. We will walk when willed. Bicycles are in order. I don’t need a lot: house, garden, dogs, books, music, local watering spots. Using the ZipCar & leaving the neighborhood will be our big adventure.

Your host, a decade ago, with his 1970 Ford Pickup Truck

In Seattle, I a drove a red 1970 Ford pickup truck & the Husband got around in his yellow 1960 Ford pickup. It seemed too daunting to get them both to Portland when we moved. The Husband sold his truck & I traded with my father, my pickup for a junker. I always mourned the letting go of those 2 trucks. Now with the giving up of the station wagon, I feel remorse. Why does this place I find myself in make me maudlin & make me cry? It is just an automobile; they come & they go. It always ran perfectly, it never gave me any trouble & the bronze Volkswagen Station Wagon came into my life at a point when my existence was uncommonly, uncharacteristically upbeat, & dare I say, for a moment… happy.

This photo of Junior has nothing to do with the post, except that loving him makes me happy.

A gentle reminder that the love you take is equal to the love you make.

A Morning With The Post Apocalyptic Bohemians...

This is an aesthetic that the Husband finds to have an agreeablely austere allure:

This is the actuality..

with ample amounts of accountability on my part: 



Happy Birthday, Husband...

In the heat of an argument, The Husband once claimed that I chose to fall in love with him because: “I was good looking & somehow that was important to you.” He was mistaken. I didn’t fall in love with him because he was breathtakingly beautiful, & he truly is & was; I fell in love with him because he creates astonishing beauty & I hold art & those who create art above everything else.

"The Details Are Not The Details. They Make The Design." Charles Eames

I call them "watch-dogs". I believe that they were meant to be card holders. I found both them in separate junk shops on the same day in the mid-1980w... but have never seen another since. I collect bits & pieces of clocks & watches for The Husband to use in his assemblages. His work is often about the passage of time.

My balls.

Words To Live By... Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is crowded with quotes that inspire me.

Two For The Road

The Husband & I are just about to hit the road. We are traveling 6 hours NE of Portland to the city where I grew up (ages 6-18) & The Husband went to high school. In the late 1960s, we actually lived within a 1/2 mile of each other & we knew some of the same people.

My parents live in the country, about 15 miles from Spokane, but we lived in town while I was in school. I left on the day I graduated from high school, but I returned in the summer of 1977, after being exhausted from the experience of living in NYC in the mid-1970s. At the very same time, The Husband returned after living in Europe. We both came back for the same reasons & I like to think it was so that we could meet. I returned to Spokane, a city that we both did not really like, to put myself back together, regroup, & decide what was next. For a short time, I enjoyed being a very a big acting fish in a very little theatre pond. It was rather thrilling to get work & attention in my hometown after being one of millions attempting to make it in NYC (I know...if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere).

Spokane, The Lilac City, is a mean little town that does not take kindly to anyone who is perceived as different. But it is a pretty small city, with a gorgeous set of waterfalls right in the middle of the downtown, & of course lots of lilacs. I believe there is one gay bar. The Husband has observed that the entire place seems frozen in 1971.

Riding in a motor vehicle that the other is driving is always driving us to divorce. We each dislike how the other pilots an automobile, no, that is too polite... each of the other's driving make the other fully daft. But, we seem to do well on a road trip. We have a few games that we indulge in the automobile: Favorites (favorite flower etc), Best (best year etc), & Unlikely Casting (Carol Channing as Lady Macbeth). A car trip is the only time we ever stop at a McDonald's. We both are crazy for fried potato products, & we let traveling be an excuse to indulge.

I may not do any posting until our return to Post Apocalyptic Bohemia on Tuesday. I will miss you. Be good while I am gone.

Left To My Own Devices

I am bachin' it the next few days. The Husband has a design client in Eugene, Oregon (2 hours south of Portland) & is staying until Tuesday. In the past, being a bachelor brought with it bit of bad behavior. Indeed, a half a decade ago, a weekend on my own would have found me getting high & drunk, staying out until last call & then having to face the fact that I was in the hot tub with a pair of brawny redheads & all that it implies. I would then need to busy myself covering my tracks.

Now I am so old that bad behavior consists of catching up on DVR-ed TV viewings of Real Time With Bill Maher, Top Chef, RuPaul's Drag Race, & Selling NY, & then going to bed at 8:30pm...  then trying to cover my tracks.

I have not been really a good boy, for dinner last night I consumed: 1 veggie slice, a side of fries, cheesecake & a martini.

I am so old now... I recently attempted to explain what Carbon Paper was to my staff.

 

I get out of bed at half past ten
Phone up a friend, who's a party animal
Turn on the news & drink some tea
Maybe if you're with me we'll do some shopping

One day I'll read, or learn to drive a car
If you pass the test, you can beat the rest
But I don't like to compete, or talk street, street, street
I can pick up the best from the party animal

I could leave you, say goodbye
Or I could love you, if I try
& I could
& left to my own devices, I probably would

Left to my own devices, I probably would

Pick up a brochure about the sun
Learn to ignore what the photographer saw
I was always told that you should join a club
Stick with the gang, if you want to belong

I was a lonely boy, no strength, no joy
In a world of my own at the back of the garden
I didn't want to compete, or play out on the street
For in a secret life I was a round head general

I could leave you, say goodbye
Or I could love you, if I try & I could
& left to my own devices, I probably would

Left to my own devices, I probably would

I was faced with a choice at a difficult age
Would I write a book? Or should I take to the stage?
But in the back of my head I heard distant feet
Che Guevara & Debussy to a disco beat

It's not a crime when you look the way you do
The way I like to picture you
When I get home, it's late at night
I pour a drink & watch the fight

Turn off the TV, look at a book
Pick up the phone, fix some food
Maybe I'll sit up all night & day
Waiting for the minute I hear you say

I could leave you, say goodbye
Or I could love you, if I try
& I could
& left to my own devices, I probably would

Come on, baby, say goodbye
I could love you, if I try
& I could
& left to my own devices, I probably would

Left to my own devices, I probably would

Out of bed, at half past ten
The party animal phones a friend
Picks up news about the sun
& the working day has just begun

Sticks with the gang - at the back of the street
Pass the test - & you don't compete
Drive the car, if you're with me
Che Guevara's drinking tea
He reads about a new device
& takes to the stage in a secret life

Left to my own devices, I probably would
If I was left to my own devices, I possibly would

Tennett/Lowe



"Young men want to be faithful, & are not; old men want to be faithless, & cannot.”
Oscar Wilde

Inspiration

The Husband & I have been doing Inspiration Walls in our seperate work areas since that late 1970s. We have also always had a joint Inspiration Wall... located, of course, on the fridge.

The Husband's Wall in his studio.

 & the current Inspiration Wall of your host.

Junior looks to the daddies for inspiration... tell me, where do you go to be inspired?

Fine Dining

When we moved into Post Apocalyptic Bohemia 9+ years ago, we dismissed what had been described as the "formal dining room" as a nook of little importance. The Husband announced that this space would never be a dining room & that we would be treating the space as a "nook" off the front room.

In 2004, the Husband took this space down to the bare studs. We lived with it this way for 6 years. I loved it! It was very Post Apocalyptic Bohemian, the style that I go for. I was always inspired by spaces in Venice that were elegance layered with decay. I always thought I could love in a reclaimed ruin.

We seem to be getting all grown up. Darn! The Husband, with some help from T, has been finishing this space (or at least until he gets his next big idea). What I enjoy the most is the gradual transformation from the least desirable part of the house to my favorite spot to sit & just be. Larry & Junior find it to be inviting also.

Two of the walls are boards that the Husband cut, bleached & stained to look the color of Oregon driftwood. In late February, he plastered the other wall, repeating the stripe made from the joining of the boards of the other wall. It took the Husband 5 tries to create an effect he was pleased with. At one point the Husband had buffed the plaster, without the stripes, so that it looked like animal hide. We both hated the result. Tears were shed, with the Husband doubting his own talent. I never doubted him.


The Husband & I met 34 years ago in the Theatre World. He was an extraordinary set designer & his talent is what first drew me to him. The telling is in the details. Here are a few details from a space truly transformed through talent & tenacity:

Movement

We take in orphans here at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. Larry is a rescue dog. He was much loved by his original family, but he nipped at the brand new baby & was sent away. Larry went to live with relatives of the original family. They didn’t like him & kept him in the garage. We think that he was snapped at or hit with a dish rag or towel. Larry becomes unglued at the sight of a dust cloth or rag in use. He is a corpulent, covetous, cantankerous, churlish canine. It is not hard to deny the similarities between this cur & Your Host.

We think that Larry is 14-ish years old & he is starting to fail. Cloudy eyes, lumps under the skin, sleeps a lot of the time. We have been through it with Baby, Sister, & Butch (terriers all) before him. Larry will sometimes not be able to walk & he drags his hind legs behind him as he scoots his way around the house. But if food is involved Larry is suddenly a puppy & on the run. He falls down stairs & only wants to walk one block on our outings.


Dogs come into our lives destroying the carpet & they leave the same way. Larry has always been a very good boy about “accidents” in the house. He was 8 years old when he was brought to our family, fully house trained, & with basic commands learned.

This morning, I left the house at 4:10am for my commute to the job. The still sleeping Husband heard Larry ask to go out at 5am. When he asks these days, you have to really hurry or he won’t make it. Larry didn’t make it. As the Husband open the sliding glass door to the back garden, he stepped, each foot, in slippery, stinky, steamin' shit. He recalled that the dog poop oozed in between each toe & into each toenail & crease of his foot.


So as not to ruin the carpet, or even the hard wood floors, the Husband made his way from the backroom, through my workspace & down a short hallway to the bathroom & shower. He accomplished this journey on his knees & elbows to avoid feces features imprinted in the flooring. According to the Husband the cleanup process was neither pleasurable nor painless. That was the start of the Husband’s day & the answer to my question: “How was your morning?”


I only wish that I had been there to capture it on camera. I would have sent the video to Oprah or Ellen, or even Nate, after making a plea: “Please Oprah/Ellen/Nate, help my husband! He is having a hard time of it. His life has gone to shit!”

One of these 2 hairy beasts is actually a warm, welcoming, winning, wonder of a love pup, & the other is crabby curgeudgeon that might like to take a chunk out of you. Venture to guess which is which?

Is Your Mouth A Little Weak? When You Open It To Speak, Are You Smart?

The Only Beam I Know Is Jim Beam

The Beam Before

The Beam After

The Husband constructed a new beam