ZeeGeezer

Do-Over

I watched a most of a movie last night, something about some 13-year-old girl who wished to be 30 and her wish was granted. Like Big, but not nearly as clever or well-executed. One line, however, got to me. The 13/30-year-old asked her now-aged mother, "If you could have one do-over in your life, what would it be?"

So, what would my do-over be? It's very hard to know. What were the life-altering moments? Because I, like most people, I suspect, haven't made many single big decisions that altered the course of my life; instead there's been a series of nano-decisions, each of which has led to another nano-decision and to another and so on. Some book you decide looks interesting to read; stopping for coffee now rather than later; some guy you do or don't smile at; some street you walk down. None of these is in itself life-changing. And when you look back many years later your life seems inevitable: there's no other way things could have turned out.

Would my life have been all that much different if I hadn't run away to spend a lonely and miserable year in England in 1970? How about if I had walked away from my unhappiness in 1984? If I had stayed in England in 1989? If I had stayed in Canada in 2001?

A little Tuesday supper for two.

The spaghetti sauce I made last night:

Put 1 lb ground beef (80% lean) in a straight-sided 12" skillet (that has a lid) over medium-high heat Break it up into crumbs with your wooden spatula and brown it thoroughly, so that the crumbs of meat actually get a nice brown crust on them (a tip from the GBF). This will take 15-20 minutes. While it's browning stir in 1/2 tsp kosher salt and a few grinds of black pepper. When the meat is nicely browned add about a cup of red wine (dregs of several bottles of very good merlot in my case) and let it simmer briskly over medium-high heat until pretty well all the wine is absorbed/boiled away, stirring occasionally. Now stir in 1 jar of good commercial spaghetti sauce (Barilla Basicilo this time), rinse the jar out with about 1/2 cup of water and stir that in. Reduce heat to low, cover the skillet and let the sauce simmer gently for 1/2 hour or so, stirring once or twice. Serve over Trader Joe's organic whole wheat spaghetti with freshly grated parmiggiano reggio. This will make about 6 servings. A big glass of organic 1% milk goes nicely with it.

Sistopher stayed at my place last night; his hotel was fully booked and he had to give up his room. I'm paying to keep him in the hotel for another week. M-day has moved to Monday. I made a bet with the therapist about whether or not he would be a millionaire by the time of my next appointment in two weeks. My bet was that he wouldn't.

While driving to Los Gatos for my therapist appointment yesterday, I discovered that the "prestigious corporate headquarters" building that's been going up on Winchester Boulevard at CA-85 is to be the new Netflix headquarters. Nice Spanish colonial-style building, even if it is in the middle of a big open field.

Rehearsal was cancelled due to fibromyalgia. We watched movies: Doing Time on Maple Drive on Logo, Red Dirt and Cowboys and Angels from Netflix and Torch-Song Trilogy on Logo.

Update: Sistopher just called to say that M-day is likely to be Friday.

Irons, Drivers and Woodies

So I saw a headline that reads: "Brokeback" Ropes PGA Prize

Isn't it nice that the golfers like gay cowboy movies?

So did the Beadle come?

So Sistopher was evicted on Tuesday. We took his cats to be boarded at the vet's, packed him some clothes and his most precious belongings and left. He had asked them to postpone until Saturday when he expects to be able to pay them, but they refused. Which seems remarkably pissy to me, since this way is going to cost them a lot more. "Fuck 'em", he said. And he will let them do the packing and removal of all his goods. And will sue them if they break anything.

And then we went to find him a hotel. Which was problematic. There must have been some convention happening, since the hotels were all booked for Tuesday and Wednesday night. Eventually one was found. Not quite to the standard he would have liked, but just about acceptable. And he's been eating chez ZeeGeezer and international financial wheeling and dealing via my network connection. And I've been chauffering him around.

He expects to be rich tomorrow. I'll wait and see. I just hope I won't be broke. Mind you, my own funds from Canada arrived in my account today, so I'm not actually broke anymore.

I think The Rocker is sweet on me. Which is a nice feeling. Arousing too.

Weekend menus

Friday: Quiche lorraine and frozen green beans with Sistopher.

Saturday: PharmaJim took me out for dinner after we spent the afternoon in bed. He's a moaner. Sauteed chanterelles on toast to start followed by butternut squash risotto. With a glass of sangiovese. PharmaJim shared the chanterelles and then had pasta with crabmeat. The bread sucked.

Sunday: Buttermilk fried chicken for The Rocker, with mashed potatoes and frozen peas. Followed by Meyer lemon meringue pie. Again, we spent the afternoon in bed. Fun was had by both.

Monday (an unexpected holiday): Jambalaya with chicken, ham, sausage and shrimp for Sistopher. Followed by leftover Meyer lemon meringue pie. Accompanied with a yummy piesporter from Trader Joe's. A bargain at $4.99. A nice long (25 miles) bike ride in the early afternoon, after which I forgot to put the patch on, so I ended up buying cigarettes when I took Sis home. The patch is now on and I'm throwing the cigarettes out, when I can do it discreetly.

But it was a weekend of mix-ups. The Rocker was supposed to come for a sleep-over on Friday, after his rehearsal. He called after midnight to say he was too tired to dirve over. We arranged that he would come for breakfast on Saturday morning. At noon he called to say that he had just woken up. I put him in the doghouse and we rescheduled for Sunday after his AA meeting. Then I went to Target to get a picture frame and some hooks to finally hang the last of my pictures. On the way there, I got a call from PharmaJim, who wanted to reschedule from the evening to the afternoon. So I rushed through Target, and then through Wal-Mart (because the picture nails I wanted seem to be sold only there), and back at 2:50 to greet PharmaJim when he arrived at 3:00. Turning into my parking lot, I saw The GBF pulling out. My goodness! We talked for a few minutes in the pouring rain. He wanted to go out for coffee with me, but I was able to plead a prior engagement, and he went on his way, after I offered to go for a bike ride with him sometime. Thereafter, things went according to the revised plan. Lots of cuddly sex. I doubt if I'll see PharmaJim again, however.

As ZeeGeezer awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed ...

The problem with a nicotine patch is that you forget you have applied it to some inconspicuous hairless region of your body. And thus you go to bed without first having removed it. Which leads to a night of very restless sleep and most peculiar dreams.

Hence my waking to find myself become a three-toed sloth.

Her Majesty's a Pretty Nice Girl

I had a dream last night in which the Queen came to stay with me for a while in a kind of Roman Holiday escape from her official duties. Somehow during this week she became the design brief for an episode of Project Runway and the winning design ended up being a Fortuny gown . I guess I must have been the Gregory Peck character.

There were all sorts of complications with the publicity and trailers for the episode. The Queen, however, had a good time. The dream didn't go into details about how we managed to co-exist in my one-bedroom apartment.

In other news (as the BBC newsreaders always say), I decided yesterday that the 5 packs of cigarettes I have bought since Christmas constitute me starting smoking again. So I bought a box of Nicoderm Clear, which I will faithfully wear for two weeks.

And I'm enjoying working my way through every romantic gay movie in the Netflix catalog. Last night was Gone, But Not Forgotten. It's very interesting to watch these low budget movies, ones that have good intentions and cute stories. My cinematographic education, I guess. This one had a lot of charm, but the writing let it down in a big way. Only 2 Netflix stars from me. Not a single tear, which means I didn't feel the love. Just a few minutes later I was watching the gay cowboys documentary on Logo. There was a wedding and my eyes filled up. It's romance that makes me cry.

Decisionary

Three dates now with The Rocker. Although Monday's date was more domestic bliss than a regular date. No going out was involved, no spending money. He has Mondays off, so after I'm finished work he came over and we watched Sordid Lives (third time for me). Then I fixed a really basic and rather trailer-trashy dinner (pan-seared salmon and Rice-a-roni, but saved by a salad of baby greens from T-J's). In the middle of fixing it, he got all frisky, so the Rice-a-roni ended up a little scorched. Then he dashed off to his rehearsal. He is nice. Cuddly and very dirty sexy at the same time.

And yesterday while driving home from rehearsal (where the Director gave me the friendliest hug!) I decided that my not calling PharmaJim yet was becoming very rude. So I called. And we arranged to hook up on Saturday. Mind you, he could have called me. Clearly he's not desperate. But then he does claim to have this boyfriend in Toronto.

The question of the day is whether I should buy the new MacBook Pro or not. The alternative is a ThinkPad with the same processor. The ThinkPad will be a couple of hundred dollars cheaper and I am very comfortable with ThinkPads, having used several models of one for the last 10 years or so. But the MacBook is way cool.

And, supposing Sistopher follows through on the car thing, should I ask for an Audi A4 Avant wagon, a BMW 325xi sportwagon, a Volvo V50 wagon or a Subaru Impreza WRX sportwagon? Decisions, decision, decisions.

Oh. I seem to be smoking again. Darn.

Labradoodle

He was quite cute, in a slightly horsey, big-toothed kind of way. Nice dark curly hair, a scruffy beard. And he was interesting: a high-powered musician and vocal coach. We had coffee (well, I had coffee, he had chai tea), we talked for an hour. And that was it. I'll be surprised if I ever hear from him, although I think I'll send him a note thanking him for the coffee. The killer for me is that he has a "labradoodle". The killer for him is probably that I'm boring. Or old. Probably both.

Isn't dating fun? I'm too old for this. And his was the only bite in a month of fishing on match.com. I emailed 30 or more guys. Carefully crafted emails to show that I had read their profiles and was approaching them individually. What a waste of time! Only two bothered with any kind of response. Online dating for sex is way better than online dating for romance. The hit-rate is higher. I guess the stakes aren't as high.

But last night ended up being interesting, in a completely different way. I seem to have found myself a little job. I'm working for donations to my ALC ride, transcribing tapes of interviews that one of the other riders has conducted. $20 an hour towards my fundraising goal (woo-hoo!). Most interesting work, but pretty demanding. It needs a lot of concentration.

He's dating!

Second date with The Rocker this afternoon and evening. Sex, Starbucks and Brokeback Mountain. Oh my.

My first reaction was that Ang Lee must have watched an awful lot of Bergman movies. Bleakly beautiful, incredibly sad. I hope Heath Ledger gets an Oscar for his performance. And the cinematography deserves an Oscar. As does Randy Quaid. Finally, Jake Gyllenhall has the most beautiful lips.

Oh, the end is different from Annie Proulx's story. A little.

I think I'll go see it again. And I'll see him again, too.

Interestingly, the little art cinema we went to was mainly filled with straight folk. But we cuddled up anyway. And they let us take our Starbucks in.

I have another date,with someone else, tomorrow. This time not Starbuck's but Peet's.