The Best Independence Day Weekend Ever

Matt from "dripping with optimism" came down from Sacramento to spend his holiday weekend with me. I initially enticed him with the promise of a Death Cab for Cutie concert at the Hollywood Bowl.

When ever someone from out of town visits, I'm always delighted because they motivate me to get out and go places I've never been or are "touristy". We had a super packed weekend, and Matt did a stellar job of outlining a basic plan, but allowing everything to flow and feel natural.

Friday, we went to the LA Zoo and braved the heat and sun to see all the cool animals. I think my personal favorite might have been the Ocelot. As we waited in the 45 minute queue to get tickets into the zoo (crazy, right?) Matt and I got to talking and I found out that he was aware of the movie "The Wizard of Speed and Time" by Mike Jittlov. Which is amazing because NO ONE knows about this movie. You can only buy second hand VHS copies of it on ebay or Amazon... it's just not out there.

Which inspired us to head to Mike's house in Silverlake. We just drove by, but it was fun. We walked down Hollywood Blvd and checked out Michael Jackson's star. Then we went up to the Hollywood and Highland complex, and took this classic photo:

We are SO sexy... lol. I kept wanting to fix Matt's glasses--they are a bit warped, and so they don't sit quite level on his face. That night, we went to the LACMA and caught a bit of free Jazz. Then we checked out the Mullholland Overlook:

Below, the city stretched out like a glittery dream. Still light out, but at that magic hour when the earth and the sky are the same intensity.

The next day, we went to Huntington Beach. I'd gone last summer with my roommate, and the fireworks show they have was phenomenal. So when we got to the beach, we jumped right into the water--and it was COLD. It was surprisingly cold--even a stalwart Mainer such as I could only last about 20 minutes before my hands started to loose feeling!

We walked around to warm up... but as the sun went down, Matt was shivering uncontrollably. (I was chilly, but okay--but I've got insulation). He wasn't sure he'd be able to hold out for the fireworks.

We sought out a wind break in the nook of a building. I pulled Matt in front of me and had him lay against my chest. I wrapped my hands around him and held his hands (which were freezing) and put my cheek on his ear to keep it warm. It was very cozy.

And I just enveloped him and held him for about an hour and half. We watched the fireworks together like that and I've not felt so contented and peaceful in ages.

People walked by and stared, and I didn't care at all. I stared back--one woman smiled as said it looked cozy--boy was it ever.

As I sat there, I I told Matt that he was going to make some guy really lucky someday. He said "igual"

Ditto, essentially.

I'm kinda honored that he trusted me and felt comfortable enough to share that moment with me. I'm so lucky to have a friend like that. Thanks Matt, for making my Independence Day into a really treasured memory.

We drove home, happy and singing classic 90's hits in the car. It took two hours to fight traffic home--but it was a blast. When we got home, we made Root Beer Floats and watched Clue.

The next day, it was on the the Los Angeles Natural History Museum. I'd say this is my favorite photograph that I've taken in a long time, from the African wing:

After that, we hit up Chipotle for a late lunch/early dinner and then went to the Death Cab Concert--the reason for the trip, the finale to an amazing weekend:

The concert ended with a fireworks bonanza for "Transatlanticism" as a finale.

Believe me, you had to have been there. It was an INCREDIBLE finale to a great concert.

The next morning, as I drove Matt to the station, I admit I teared up a little--I'm a sucker for a goodbye. :( Anyway, thanks for the fun times, Matt. Hope to see you again soon.

Geocaching and other Fun Times

I probably should be in bed right now, but hell, there's too much to talk about.

And no, I didn't watch the Oscars, though I've seen Dustin and Sean's speeches and they made me happy.

Today, almost on a whim, I decided to pack my bike onto the back of my car and drive to visit beautiful San Jacinto.

I took my bike and road it through the fresh air of San Jacinto. Mind you, manure could be considered pollution, but that almost makes it seem more fresh to me--real country air. I rode just over 8 miles, which isn't overtly impressive, but not bad, either. Here's my route:

I found a geocache there, and then headed back south to Jack In The Box for a quick bite to eat.

I stopped and did one final Geocache on my way back home.

And one final exciting occurrence--while driving home in I-10, I picked up a middle aged woman with a suitcase who's care had broken down and drove her about 50 miles to LA. It was kind of nice to have a travel companion, and I was really pleased that my selfish trip could be turned into an opportunity for service.

Then I got home and did laundry, and spent WAY to long on this blog post.

Goodnight friends!

Sad Strangers

Yesterday I was driving home from the gym, talking on my (wired!) headset to my sister in Maine.  We try to talk at least once a week.  When I was about 2/3rds of the way home, I received a text message from Andrew, a college friend who I'd committed to pick up at the airport.

Blast! I felt silly having been heading in the wrong direction for that whole time.

(I'm not going to turn this post into a commentary on that last sentence and the deeper truth that lies within it, though it's very tempting. I think my readers are smart enough to feel where I might go with that)

So I swung all the way around--north, then west on the 101, then south on the 405 to Century Blvd.  Andrew is gay, and now that I am more comfortable and "out", I get special delight in re-visiting my old gay friends.  I used to be somewhat uncomfortable around my gay friends, because I feared that they, being gay, had some special sixth sense, and would quickly figure out my dark secret.  I feared I'd be outted by them--not directly, perhaps--but maybe people would notice the similarities between me and my gay friends and come to a (correct) conclusion that I, too, was homosexual.

Well, all that crap is in the past now.  When I got to the airport, Andrew and I embraced in a way that seems exclusive to homosexuals and close family--that great big unrestrained bear hug of joy at seeing someone you care about after a long absence.

Mind you, I've no interest in a relationship with Andrew, but I love hugs and I do care about my friends very deeply.

We drove towards where he was staying in Sherman Oaks, and we stopped and got In-N-Out for dinner.  (I limit myself to no more than once a week, because I literally get giddy when I eat In-N-Out, it's just that good.  It makes up for the lack of decent pizza out here).

While we were talking, I noticed a guy sitting alone on a stool at the bench.  He looked to be in his low to mid 20's (I'm a terrible estimator of age) and slender with a jacket and a cap, five-o-clock shadow, and moist, sad eyes.

I couldn't help but watch him.  He looked as if he was really upset, yet didn't want to show the world his pain.  My heart reached out to this guy, and I really really wanted to go over and ask him what was wrong.  We made eye contact one or two times, but I didn't get a read on him.  I hesitated, minutes slipping by, trying to talk myself into going over and asking "is everything ok?"

But the moment slipped away.  He muttered something to him self, got up, dumped his trash and left.

Earlier this week I'd been reading articles about picking up a guy, and I'd committed myself to at least try striking up a conversation with someone I find attractive.  Why didn't I do it?  A wasted opportunity.  I feared that maybe he just wanted to be left alone--there was a reason he wasn't letting his tears flow--and maybe if I approached him, he'd be angry with me for not minding my own business.   But maybe he would have been grateful that in cold, uncaring, "blade-runner city" LA, someone at least tried to reach out.

But I still feel cheap, because my motivation wasn't 100% altruistic.  I thought he was cute and wanted to talk to him.  Eh, what are you going to do.

We're all sad strangers, walking the streets alone at night, staring up at the stars.  Wondering if somewhere out there your other half is looking at those same celestial bodies, questioning if he'll ever find his.

*sigh*

CRASH!

I've been up since 4:30, when I was awoken by the sound of a woman screaming.

"Help, help us, somebody help!"

It was one of the most scary things I've ever heard. I jumped out of bed and ran to my window, opening it, trying to assess if it was safe to go investigate. My worst fear was that this woman was being attacked, or raped.

It was a car wreck. My roomate and I both ran out as his girlfriend dialed 911. "Grab the first aid kit", Joe reminded me. I ran out, and the pictures tell the tale. An SUV had hit a parked car flipped, and the passengers were trying to crawl out. Other men had gotten out just before and got the first woman pulled out. Coolant was on the ground, and radio music poured from the speakers.

I did not smell gas, thank God. I held the driver door open as a man who'd climbed up on top of the vehicle pulled the the four occupants out, one by one. I told the man on top to reach in and turn off the ignition and I turned off the headlights. Like I said, I didn't smell gas, but I didn't want to find out the hard way.

No one was badly injured. The driver had a cut on the bridge of his nose, and had blood in his mouth. I put on my latex gloves and wiped his blood off with gauze, then used alcohol to sterilize the cut that was visible. I wasn't sure what to do for the inside of his mouth. (He'd probably bitten down on his cheek or tongue when he impacted.) By that time, the fire department and the police showed up, and they took over. I was glad to have helped, and one officer even told me thanks for my help.

I don't really feel like I did anything major, but just having someone care for you in an incident like that probably was helpful in keeping him calm. I made him sit down while I cleaned him up.

Anyway, it's weird to think that my whole building ran out to help. Northridge hit Southern California at the same time of morning--I can only imagine what that must be like after an experience like this.

BTW, if you want to see the car being uprighted by the tow truck, click here.

Excitement and Apprehension - Hand-wringing in the New Year

In about 2 hours I begin my 4 hour drive up to the valley of the Great Salt Lake to attend Scott's New Years Moho party/get-together/shindig/bash/hurrah.

Yesterday, I left LA at 6pm, after a long day at work.  I fought valiantly against the rest of Los Angeles, whose taillights formed a red serpent that slithered towards Sin City.   Climbing the mountain and crossing the desert, the winter cold whistled at the window.   My cracked ipod screen prohibits me from listening to my music in any order except alphabetical by artist,  and so I was unable to think straight.  Exhausted and spent much more quickly than usual, my general pattern of driving thrown off by the excess traffic and the morons who insist on driving in the fast lane 10 mph underneath the speed limit (which is about 20 mph underneath the general flow of traffic), I had to stop, nap, and take night photography.

The photo at the right was taken at about 10pm, 8 second exposure, ISO 80, F-3.1 at a ranch exit in California.  Could it be a metaphor for my life?  The road I want to take is unavailable to me...?

I thought I might not make it.  I wondered why I was driving 700 miles.  Spending hundreds of dollars in lost wages from taking extra days off, gas, and food.  What was I doing?  I don't know any of these people!  I read their words on the screen and I hear of their struggles, but I don't know them.  And they don't know me.  What do I expect from this?  What do I want?  What am I nervous about?

I've been thinking about this a lot.  On the one hand I have been super excited about this party since I realized I would actually be able to attend.  The chance to meet a group of people who know what I've been going through, who know the framework of my thoughts, the struggle that it causes, and the crippling indecision that it creates.

When I was still in the closet, I used to subconsciously deny my sexuality by process of comparison.  I had a perception of the elements that made a homosexual, and by process of simple A+B=C, I concluded that if "that" was gay, and "that" certainly wasn't me, then I wasn't gay.

But I now know that there are all kinds of gay men, and I see the blogosphere as the only community I somewhat identify with.  But even there I sometimes feel like an outsider.  Most of the blogs I enjoy reading the most seem to be of good men who are continuing to stay in the church, even if they want a boyfriend or are pursuing a relationship.  For me, as fallout from the Prop 8 battle in California, I lost my testimony.

I lost my testimony.

I've never written or said that before.  But I think it's true.  Am I really a Moho?  I don't know.  But being gay didn't make me lose my faith.  I lost my faith when the things the church taught me my whole life were thrown out the window, and I chose to follow my heart, my conscience.  And sadly, since the church doesn't really allow personal interpretations, I had to leave, lest my faith be constantly questioned by doting members.  I couldn't make it work.  I was tired of trying.  All I can really say these days is that if I'm wrong, and I won't be returning to the kingdom of heaven, at least I'll be in good company.  My father, older sister and brother will all be there... so much for families together forever, I guess.

I closing, I'm very nervous about how this evening will go.  Will I be loved, welcomed and accepted?  Will I make lasting, life-long friends?  Will I learn something about myself?  Will God show me the path I should follow?

Or will it just be another year of "I don't knows".

See you when I see you.  Goodnight.