Pen and Ink

Remembering Henrietta.

Back in high school, we used to hang out at the Pompton Queen, our local diner. (New Jersey, is of course, the home of the diner.)  Some evenings I would be there two or three times, each time with a different friend or group of friends. 

In college, once we could drink (legal age was 19 back then), we'd end up at the "Queen" at 2 a.m. after four hours of drinking and dancing at Rumsellers.

But back in high school, part of the run of hanging out at the Queen were the video games in the lobby. My favorite (and one that I was pretty good at) was Ms. Pac Man.  For some reason that escapes me, we nicknamed her Henrietta.

Martin, who has a steel-trap memory for all sorts of shit from our youth, sent me this YouTube clip the other day.  Enjoy.

Eyes shut.

The Times had an article on Saturday that said that just over 10% of homeowners in the United States have mortgages that are higher than their homes are currently worth.

That's an astounding number and I'm happy that I'm not one of them.

I'm no economist, but I have to wonder: Didn't anyone see this coming?

The housing market throughout the country has been out of control with prices climbing higher and higher. Here in South Florida, developers have been building and building to a point that people are walking away from deposits on the thousands of newly-built condo in downtown Miami and littered along the coast.

Everything is cyclical. It's a basic fundamental law of economic physics, if you will.

So where was the government throughout all of this?

They're all hot and bothered about trying to jump start the economy. They're sending $600 checks to millions of people who will use them to pay their heating bills or put gas in their cars because oil prices have skyrocketed. Those checks will do nothing for the economy.

So I repeat the question: where was the government. Did no one predict this?

I asked this while out to dinner with Cary and John the other night. Cary replied, "Bush was focused on his war, and nothing else."

He's right. And as I've long maintained, history will look back on this president and his band of thugs with derision. And rightly so.

And history will ridicule us all if McCain is elected president.

Huh? What?

Saturday night John, Cary and I enjoyed dinner together at Bona, a favorite local Italian restaurant right at the end of the "Drive" in Wilton Manors. And walkable from Cary's place.

I hadn't seen Cary in two weeks. He had just returned from a week in Puerto Vallarta, and the week prior, our schedules just didn't match up.

It was a very relaxed evening and at some point in the conversation, I inquired, "What are you doing for Easter?" assuming that we would spend it together, as families do.

He looked at me and he said, "You're coming to my place? Remember? My Uncle Bobby, his wife so-and-so and my niece such-and-such are coming. It's them, you and John, and Michael and me. We discussed this."

We did?

I had absolutely no recollection of any such exchange. John confirmed that it was the first that he had heard of it, which strengthened my resolve that it was not a conversation Cary and I had had. When an invitation comes that includes John, I call him immediately.

Cary insisted we had discussed it and I insisted that we hadn't.

We didn't argue, of course, but it left me wondering.  Does he have another best friend I don't know about?

It also left him wondering if he had invited two other people and now can't remember who it was.

For a good cause.

The vast majority of philanthropy -- approximately 90 percent -- in this country, comes from individuals like you and me. Corporations and foundations do their part, but their donations dwarf by comparison.

We all know about likes of Bill Gates and Warren Buffet who are to be admired for the good they are attempting to do with their billions. They are, though, the exception rather than the rule.

The statistics of giving reveal interesting facts. It is well documented that those among us who live at the lower end of the economic spectrum give a higher percentage of their annual income than do the wealthy (that's something that fundraisers like moi attempt to change). Churches are a big reason for this, because it is further noted that those with lower incomes tend to attend worship services more regularly than do their wealthier brethren.

Everyone can do something.

There's a famous story of a Missouri woman  who spent her entire life washing the clothes of other people. When she died at nearly 100 years of age, she left $1 million to the local college. College officials and nearly everyone else who heard about this were stunned. Who knew this woman had such wealth?

We all have a role to play in improving our society. This has been my career for the last 20 years. Yet I was reminded of this again when reading a little snippet in Details magazine.

"I am going to contribute my work to a purpose that touches me deeply."

A very noble thought. Especially because it came from one Maria Carolina, a Chilean prostitute who auctioned off 27 hours of sex to raise more than $4,000 for a disabled-children's charity.

Everyone can get into the act of giving.

Take thine own medicine.

Last week I had some email exchanges with an old friend. He was lamenting his employment situation (soon to be employment-free) and was looking for pity. (I suggested he check out www.dictionary.com).

His problem, as he explained, is that he "doesn't have any ambition" and is "lazy."  He's a very intelligent guy and comes from good stock, and my snarky "dictionary.com" comment aside, I tried to be helpful. Having just watched half of The Secret on DVD, I suggested to him that if he didn't like those aspects of his personality, he should work to change them. "Imagine the future you want," I offered (sounding awfully new-agey).

(For the record, I'm not some recent convert to The Secret and its ilk. Most of that stuff is just common sense and is pretty much how I've lived my life since adulthood. I didn't need some movie or book to tell me that.)

I need to take some of my own medicine.

Yesterday, while waiting for my car to be serviced, I went for a hour and a half bike ride along the beach, my first in a long, long time. There were a lot of riders, joggers and walkers at that 7:30 a.m. hour. Many of the men I passed on the road were looking fit in their tight biker shorts and colorful biker tops.

That's something I struggle with (the fit part, not the tight biker shorts).

Friday, P-Boy and I had lunch with a friend of his and another guy -- Andrew -- whom P-Boy met at our gym. I'd seen Andrew any number of times myself, but we had not met. He's probably about five to seven years younger than me, and slim with a little definition. Something I aspire to.  I felt like a big porker next to him.

My immediate family struggles with weight issues. My parents have gone up and down the scales for years, visiting Weight Watchers when things get out of hand. Susan was never really heavy, but dropped a bunch of weight a few years ago and has done an amazing job of keeping it off. Kathy, too, has her issues.

At six feet, I'm just under 200 pounds right now. So I'm not fat or obese or anything resembling. But I could stand to lose 20-30 pounds. Living in one of our country's largest gay communities, I get caught up in the unfortunate body issue syndrome that wreaks havoc among gay men.

My problem is two-fold: a lack of discipline and eating the wrong things.

The gym is boring to me. I need the cardio, bit it's boring. To get there before work, I need to be in bed by 10 the night before and up by 5:30. Working out at the end of the day just isn't feasible for me. Mentally, I'm exhausted.

As for the eating habits, I try and I'm not that bad. But sweets get me. I should bring apples and raisins to work for my mid-afternoon snack, but why do that when a lovely six-pack of Oreos is just three floors away in the convenient vending machine?

I have to take some of the medicine I gave my friend. Imagine what I want. It won't be enough, because what I want takes commitment, perseverance, and hard work. But I have to start somewhere.

Slammin'.

Man, I've been slammin' at work this week. It just doesn't let up.  Tonight I stayed in the office just to get caught up. I finally attacked a project that I put on my list a year ago.  I'm not kidding. One whole year ago.

But work stuff is boring to write about and probably even more boring for you to read. So let me try to come up with some interesting things to talk about.

Last Friday, John and I went to opening night of The Pajama Game at New World School of the Arts. As always, that school is amazing. The students were fantastic (even the boys who were clearly 'mos but trying to butch it up for their roles) and the faculty first rate.

Last night, despite being really wiped from work, I went to South Miami to visit my friend Debbie. I've been blowing her off for months. We had a date to hang out at her place on Monday (along with her hubby and son), but said son was sick.

It was a really fun evening. She pulled out all sorts of yummy appetizers (cheeses, hummus, salami, pot stickers) and bottles of vodka and orange juice (I had to drink alone since Robert, her husband, was working late and she's preggers).  We had a wonderful time catching up on work (we used to work together) and our lives.  We've got one of those great gay man/straight woman friendships.

Let's see...what else?  Oh yeah.  I was prowling around the web the other night and stumbled upon a photo blog called Manhattan Details (see link on the left side of the page).  Really cool site with random photos of New York City life.  I'm impressed and inspired. Now I'm thinking about doing something like it centered on Fort Lauderdale and Miami. I have to get in the habit of carrying my camera everywhere, or else going out on photo expeditions to build up inventory.  We'll see. 

Lastly, I'm disappointed that two planned house visits appear not to be materializing. Martin was supposed to visit this spring, but work issues are keeping him in Boston (poop).  And Kathy and Mike were planning on coming for a second annual July 4th visit, but dental issues are taking their toll on the wallet.  I was looking forward to both visits, but such is life.

And that's life for me right now. Will try to catch up on posts this weekend.

Spring awakening.

Even though I'm sitting outside on the lanai with the laptop in the beautiful South Florida winter weather, I'm thinking about spring and the weather.

Specifically I'm thinking about New York and the late spring weather. Regular readers of this blog know that I've started an annual tradition of taking a theater weekend in New York.

With my taxes done (and a sigh of relief that I can afford to pay for my Baltic cruise), I'm free to plan for the next couple of months.

My first theater weekend was two years ago, just after I started writing this blog. I had two business trips to New York planned for consecutive weeks. So I stayed in between, giving myself a luxurious weekend of theater.

Last year's outing included my friend Gene. We shared a hotel room, thereby saving us both a ton of money.

The third annual Theater Weekend will include John, a "pay-back" for not bringing him on the cruise with me. We're planning it for Memorial Day weekend, when NYC weather is at its finest.  I found good airfares and good Times Square hotel rates.

Now we have to decide on shows.  Spring Awakening is definitely on the list. We're also looking at In The Heights, the revival of Sunday in the Park With George, the new John Waters show Cry-Baby, or A Catered Affair with Harvey Fierstein and Faith Prince.

I will not -- I repeat, WILL NOT, being going to see Shrek on Broadway. Even if it does have Sutton Foster.

Proud Tina.

She's an inspiration for so many reasons.

If you didn't catch the Grammys the other night (which I did not), Tina Turner peeked out from retirement to perform "Proud Mary" with Beyonce.

This woman is amazing. Sixty-eight years old and she still moves. The dress was a little unfortunate, but you can't take anything away from her.

Some of the younger stars may have the looks, but Tina's still got the raw talent.  Here's there performance.

Soaking.

For years, I have had this thing about water. 

I have always found the act of soaking in water to have a profound, creative effect on me. (Probably has something to do with the womb.)  A lake, a pool, the ocean...it doesn't matter. When I'm in it, the creative juices get flowing.

Last night I gave myself a long soak in the jacuzzi at the Courtyard Marriott in Newburgh, NY, where I was staying on my business trip. (With the Antarctic temperatures that have fallen upon the Northeast, it felt really good to be in the water.)  As usual, the creative juices in my brain started boiling.

Sometimes it's about projects I want to do. Last night, it was about the blog. All sorts of snippets came into my mind. Most of them aren't nearly developed enough to make it into writing, but there are threads of ideas for future posts.

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In the spirit of full disclosure, the photo above is REALLY old. Vintage 2001, if I recall correctly.

Loud, sexy rock and roll.

OMG! The B-52s are back. The residents of the Love Shack are releasing their first studio album in 16 years.

Somehow, everything is all right with the world when you're listening to the B-52s. The world gets better on March 25.