I heard today that Mom recently “got into” a movie with Jodie Foster, talking when Jodie talked and getting very excited when she came on the screen.  The hospice volunteer couldn’t remember the name of the movie.  But I think I know which one it is. 

The Gay Money Bank finally has enough gay money in it to matter — now gay people can begin to attain rights based not on their matching genitalia but on how much money they have in the bank.  To contribute.  To political campaigns. 

Everyone understands money.    

For what it’s worth, I happen to approve of this political path to equality.   

arrived this morning into the hands of Ann Garwood and Nancy Moors, the Hillcrest artists who create and publish HILLQUEST every year.  It is currently being distributed all over town.   

I enjoyed telling the story of Filbert’s Tree and calling up my memories of Leonard Matlovich. 

Now deal the cards. . . 

It happened. New York state legalized a union between couples of the same sex today. This is great news. The first thought that came to my mind is the following:

When my grandfather, Papa, my mother’s father, found out I had bought a house with Luke on Vashon Island, he called me on the phone.

“I hear you have yourself a bed feller,” Papa said.

I was speechless, a rarity for me.

“Feller needs to stay warm at night,” he said.

He was right. Love is about staying warm at night. What does that have to do with gender?

I’ve been reading Michael Connelly for months now.  I know his character, Detective Hieronymus (Harry) Bosch, better than I know some of my friends — that’s because I don’t get to sit in on my friends’ therapy sessions.

Anyway, Connelly’s books are a surprising accompaniment to the new book I’m working on. It’s my life story. Detective Bosch has taught me how to walk into a crime scene and make sense of it.

The truth and nothing but.

I see trees of green ~~ Red Roses, too ~~ I see them bloom ~~ For me and you ~~ And I think to myself ~~ What a wonderful world ~~ 

I see skies of blue ~~ And clouds of white ~~ The bright blessed day ~~ The dark sacred night ~~ And I think to myself ~~ What a wonderful world ~~

Okay, Mr. President.  I do not understand your reluctance around Libya.  If you have a brilliant or even a not so brilliant reason for your stance, then tell us — perhaps tomorrow night in your speech about Afghanistan. 

If you don’t defend your position soon then you’ve lost me.  

You are the candidate I voted against. 

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU TRACY MORGAN, TALKING ABOUT KILLING YOUR KID IF HE WAS GAY AND YOU OTHER HOMOPHOBIC SELF-HATING SO-CALLED COMEDIANS ALL COMFORTABLE IN YOUR LACK OF ANYTHING RESEMBLING A SENSE OF HUMOR AND YOU, THE POLITICIANS, WHO WANT GAY PEOPLE MADE FUN OF AND OSTRACIZED WHILE YOU SUCK AT THE TROUGH OF “RELIGIOUS” PEOPLE AND THEIR MONEY SO YOU CAN CAPTURE THE VOTE OF THE “RELIGIOUS” ONES WHO WANT NOTHING MORE THAN TO SEE GAY PEOPLE BURNED ALIVE, SMOTHERED AND BANISHED.  I DON’T GET IT!

I WOULD LIKE TO LIVE A YEAR, ONE FULL YEAR IN AMERICA WHERE I WAS BORN WITHOUT HEARING SOME PUBLIC FIGURE WISHING ME DEAD.  IS THAT TOO MUCH TO FUCKING ASK FOR BEFORE I DIE?

GAY MISSISSIPPI GODDAM. 

MISSISSIPPI GODDAM GAY.

In response to Judge James Ware’s decision on Prop. 8 today, I post the above quote because no way could I say it better than that.

Oh, Edna Earle.  I liked you and you liked me.  We shared a sense of humor.  Remember that time when our lives came together?  That time was important to me. 

Rest in peace, dear lady.