Pen and Ink

Here iggy, iggy, iggy.

We New Jerseyans don't know much about iguanas, lizzards, geckos and the like.

So ever since moving to Florida, I've been fascinated by some of the wildlife here. Especially the iguanas (which my ex, Mike, and I termed "iggies") and geckos (similarly nicknamed "izzies").

Our street, fairly well traveled, crosses over a small pond. Flanking the roadway are two long patches of grass, the upper parts of the bank of the pond. A sidewalk on separates the grass from the vegetative slope leading to the water.

It's on these stretches of grass where a whole gaggle of iguanas likes to sunbathe. They just lie there, oblivious to the cars going by. They seem to barely move. We like to count them as we drive by. Just a little game.

While they seem sluggish, try riding by them on a bicycle, as I sometimes do. Those suckers can move!

I also like to watch Georgina, a large green iguana that lives in a tree next to our local gay watering hole, Georgie's Alibi. Someone has built a shelf into the tree; people who work at place feed Georgina lettuce and other vegetables. If you're lucky while sitting on the patio, she'll come down to feast.

They're really fascinating to watch. The interesting thing is this: they don't belong here.

With a typical length of four to six feet, green iguanas are generally found over a wide geographic area, from Mexico to southern Brazil and Paraguay, as well as on the Caribbean islands.

What are they doing here?

Well, from what I can tell, they're pets. Or they were. Illegally dumped in rivers and canals. Some may have gotten big and unruly and broken free of their cages. Others may have escaped from cargo ships. I've even heard it suggested that many of them went into the wild after Hurricane Andrew tore up southern Miami-Dade County in 1991.

However they got here, I think they're cool.

Quote/Unquote

This is attribued to the Rev. Gregory A. Boyd, minister of the Woodland Hills Church in St. Paul, Minn. It comes from today's New York Times in an article about disowning conservative politics. Look for more from me on this topic in the next day or two.

When the church wins the culture wars, it inevitably loses. When it conquers the world, it becomes the world. When you put your trust in the sword, you lose the cross.

OK, I confess.

Working, as I do, in fundraising, you tend to be around a lot of educated, reasonably sophisticated people. When I worked in healthcare, I was around doctors, dentists and the like. At the university, I'm surrounded by very smart, interesting people. While that the museum, heaven help me, I interacted with a lot of snobbish folk.

You're expected to be up on the latest intellectual everything. You have to see certain movies. Films with titles like An Inconvenient Truth. Watch CNN, Larry King Live, the Sunday morning talk shows. You have to listen to NPR and read the Times (the latter I do willingly each day). God help me, when I worked at the museum I had to care about Zaha Hadid, Frank Gehry, and other celebrity architects.

It gets to be a bit much sometimes. There are days when I just don't care how up I am on anything. Days when I just want to indulge in the equivalent of cultural junk food.

This afternoon, John and I did just that.  In the form of John Tucker Must Die.

What more could a tired guy ask for? Jesse Metcalf, the cute gardener from Housewives. Vengeful teenage girls. And Jenny McCarthy. Jenny McCarthy, for God's sake!

Would someone pass the Twizzlers?

Water can be thicker than blood.

I spent this evening lingering over dinner with my friend Constanza.

A woman in her mid-upper 50s, Conti's sophisticated, intelligent and always great fun. Laughter is always on the menu when we're dining together. She's unabashed in her opinions and how she expresses them, and delightfully liberal in her views on so many subjects...politics, religion, relationships. An evening out with her is always engaging, thoughtful, and thoroughly enjoyable.

Tonight we started down a conversational path that began with film. She was telling me about a Mexican film she had recently seen, and I, in turn, shared one of my favorite cinematic treats: an Italian movie called His Secret Life.

The central character is a woman named Antonia, whose husband is tragically killed. In the aftermath of his death, she uncovers a world in which he lived, one completely unrelated to the life he shared with her. His secret life. While the story is about her discovery of his other life and the role she starts to play in it, the bigger theme is the family that so many of us choose.

Our discourse took off in that direction. New ground was hardly broken, as there's been a lot written about the families that many gay men and women choose, often in the face of rejection from biological families.

It's a topic that Conti and I have talked about before, but she's fascinated by it and admitted that it's given her pause to consider the idea as it relates to her own life.

For me, it gave me another opportunity to reflect on my own chosen family.

I'm lucky that my biological family has not rejected me. In fact, my sister recently commented that my relationship with my father got better after I came out. Who could have imagined it?

But I'm truly blessed to have a wonderful group of caring, supportive friends...my family. Some have been in my life for just a year, some for 7 or 8 years, and one for 30 years. Months may go by without contact.  Sometimes a 12-year estrangement keeps us apart. But in my heart, I know they are there.

Proof of the bonds that connect us was driven home to me last year. After too many months of silence between us, I emailed Drew on the day I decided I had to end my relationship with ex. After a warm response to my note, we spoke by telephone. He said the most amazing thing.

I got up this morning and said to Christopher, "I have to call Glenn. I think he's in trouble."

This was before I sent my email. After not talking for a long time. And he was right; I was in trouble.

The ties that bind, indeed.

It was just another reminder about how important our chosen families are. Especially how vital they are to my life. To these friends, my family, I have one thing to say.

I love you.

It's 10 p.m. Do you know where your post is?

OK. It's been two days since I've written.

Actually, make that three. The last posting, while it's dated July 18, was actually written the day before. I just set the timer to post it on the 18th.

I spent last night at John's, which, as ever, was wonderful. The problem is that it takes me awhile to get used to sleeping with someone new. Especially in a bed that is not my own.

So I'm tired today. I didn't have the energy to really write something, but far be it for me not to do a little redecorating of the blog. Again. Now that I've upgraded my Typepad subscription, I've been fiddling around with color schemes and designing new banners.

I wasn't even going to write at all. But I know that Martin and Tamara, bless their hearts, would let me know their displeasure. So here you go, friends.

A question of time.

As I wrote in Anticipation, I saw John perform on stage for the first time this past weekend. Not only was that a treat, but I had the priviledge of being among the very first people in the world to see a new work: A Question of Time, written by Kate Powers and Jeanne Gray-Dominguez, and directed by Ms. Powers.

With a cast of 13 actors, Question is about the erosion of friendships that comes with lies and the withholding of truth, and about those inner dialogues that we all have running through our heads.

There are three main characters: Andrea, JT and Danny. We see them at four different ages -- 7, 27, 34 and 42 -- with each portrayed by a different actor (accounting for 12 of the 13 cast members). A good portion of the dialogue includes the each character talking to the younger or older versions of him/herself. (The writers pulled it off well, I must say).

One particular scene involved the three Andreas. It had poignancy for me, and vividly brought me back to conversations I had with younger and older versions of myself less than two years ago.

As many of you know, I ended a 17-year relationship last year. It was no easy or quick decision. I went through a lot of careful thought and deliberation.

SCENE 1

Glenn at 32: Why didn't I end this earlier?

Glenn at 42: There's no sense in beating yourself up for what you didn't do years ago. Learn from this, grow from it.

Glenn at 32: That's comforting but you've wasted too much time not being as happy as you could.

SCENE 2

Glenn at 62: Hey Glenn 42, please end this relationship now. I don't want to be sitting here, alone on some bar stool, wishing that I had broken up with him 20 years ago. I don't want to be a lonely old man with no one to kiss me goodnight.

Glenn at 42: But this is so hard. This will be painful for him.

Glenn at 62: Yeah, but look at me. You have to take care of me. Now.

Now, while my thought processes at the time were not structured like the lines of a play, that's essentially what they were. I tried to understand myself at age 32. I tried to learn from the decisions I made then. And the 62-year old version of myself definitely called to me from the future.

He's the one who gave me courage.

* * * * *

Some other random thoughts about Saturday night:

1. For the record, I was very impressed with John's acting. He and Kameshia Duncan (Andrea, Age 42) were the best in the cast. And I'm not just saying that.

2. The lead producer of the show is MTC Productions (as in Manhattan Theater Club), a very reputable company. With luck, this show will go to New York.

3. John introduced me to everyone in the cast and some of the people he knew in the audience. There was definitely recognition of who I am in relation to him. Hmmm...he's been talking about me!

A final note: my sister Kathy commented last month, "You were with Mike for 17 years, but in your blog, you've never mentioned him." Here you go, Kat.

Eggs, birds and hot guys.

For as long as I can remember, I've had an interest in advertising. Not creating it, but just admiring it. Enjoying the creative genius behind some of what we're bombarded with daily. Railing against marketers who think that we're stupd.

In this, my first posting on the topic, I am going to share three ads that I find interesting for a variety of reasons.

EGG ON YOUR FACE. I don't know if this is creative, technologically wonderous, or just plain ridiculous. There's a report in the New York Times business section today about a Deerfield, Ill, company -- EggFusion -- that has developed technology that allows for imprinting on eggs. Yes eggs.

CBS has announced that it will utilize this technology to advertise it's fall line-up on 35 million eggs. Apparently, they've pretty much exhausted every takeoff on shelling, scrambling and frying.

* * * * *

BETTER EGG THAN THIS.  Outdoor advertising (otherwise known as billboards) are not always the venue for the most creative of advertisements. Sometimes, ad agencies get it right. Crispin Porter + Bogusky, the Miami-based gods of advertising, showed their brilliance when they launched the Mini in the United States with some clever, three-dimensional billboards.

I've had to use I95 from Miami to Fort Lauderale a couple of times in the past two weeks and have noticed a billboard for some radio station morning duo. (Most morning radio programs are innane at best, so rarely to do I give them a second look). This ad features the two male hosts flanking the copy. The image on the right is distorted by streaks running over it. At first I figured it was defaced by a less-than-loyal fan.

On the second pass-by I noticed some objects on top of the sign directly above the defaced image. It was only on the third viewing that I realized what they were.

Fake birds.

That's just wrong. Kinda funny, but wrong.

* * * * *

I CAN'T HELP MYSELF WITH THIS ONE. We all have heard "sex sells." But the one sector that never got the message was real estate.

Until now.

Corcoran Group Real Estate has figured out you don't need pictures of buildings to get your point across.

You just need a really hot guy.

OK. You're probably saying, "He's only talking about this ad because of the guy."

Well, sorta.

He is cute and yes, he did make me stop and look at the ad. But isn't that what good design is about?

When you look past his nicely toned body and read the copy, you might agree with me that it's well written. And when you look at the entire campaign, you have to admit that it really is creative.

And yes, it's OK to keep looking at the guy. I do.

Anticipation.

I have high expectations for today. It will be a day of firsts. Two of them, at the very least.

Tonight, for the first time, I get to see John perform on stage. Unfortunately, he's not singing (as he puts it, he's more singer than actor), but acting in a brand new play. In the biz, it's known as a workshop. Whatever it's called, it is the first-ever public performance of a new work. They're doing it for one night for producers from New York. But, with luck, there will be several other performances over the next six weeks.

That's the first first.

The second is that tonight will really be the first time that John and I are out together as a couple. As in meeting people he knows.  He says they're all looking forward to meeting me. No pressure there.

(Of course, I had to go out and buy a new frock, cuz I wanna look good for my man. Besides, after the week I had, I needed a little retail therapy last night.)

But the tables will turn next week. On Saturday, a group of us from the university are going to see the Titanic exhibition at the Museum of Science, and then out to dinner at Soyka.  So I get to show him off for the first time.

That's the second first. 

There might be another, but I'm not talkin'.

Quote/Unquote

Mark sent me these lyrics from Wicked. They're in keeping with my recurring theme of "people come into our lives for a reason." Thank you for sharing them, my friend.

I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason
With something we must learn and we are drawn to those
Who help us most to grow if we let them and we help them in return.
Now I don't know if I believe that's true, but I know I'm who I am 
today because I knew you.

Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun.
LIke a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood.
Who can say if I've been changed for the better,
But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

Writer's block?

Tamara emailed today to complain that I haven't written since July 5. Indeed, I have not.

The problem seems to be a lack of inspiration.

I was reading the blog Human Nature (see link to the right of this screen). It's one of the blogs I try to keep up with, and its author, Steven, and I correspond by email from time to time.

Steven seems to be able to capture the every day. He wrote about cutting the grass at his parents' house and his mother asking him to stop getting the grass all over the place. It's an amusing piece and certainly not very deep. It's not meant to be. Why can't I capture those simple things?

I keep looking for the deep and meaningful. There's another one of those coming, but it's perculating in my head. I'm also thinking about another piece about John's whack-job roommate. Unfortunately, neither are really inspiring to me.

In replying to Tamara's email I told her that I was struggling. She said, "Write about anything. Write about the crappy weather."

So here you go: the weather here in South Florida has been downright shitty. With summer comes our rainy season. But usually it's a thundershower in the afternoon, breaking up otherwise gorgeous, sunny, hot days. But lately, damn, it's rainstorm after rainstorm after rainstorm. 

Enough already.

So there you have it, T. Exciting stuff, huh?