these days of leiderhosen

I'm going to do something I never thought I'd do: my collection of fragrance is going away. I don't know how they are going, but I need to write a list of them. I have two scents now. Tom Ford Neroli Portofino, oil and something called body spray. So this is my brief affair; it's going to be warm kind of sunshine sexy, smelling like oranges. I bought the spray last weekend when I was furious with Senor Leiderhosen. I Hate Perfume Russian Tea Caravan I have a 5 ml liter bottle inside another little plastic capped bottle from The Container Store, ninety-nine cents. Wouldn't have it any other way. So sexy and intentional. Enough to last me a while. I put it on the tattoo of my Mum's signature; she hated perfume. How our noses ran in church when little white eldery Ladies  wore hats. It's warm. When my nose is full of it, I feel it right here. Here. Where my breastplate armour  would lean towards Heaven on the prayer cards of me. It's a Dark and St...

The title and refrain of this song are her last request, at her most frightened. My Sarah often delights in her "broken heart". I don't understand what she means and to request the explanation seems very personal, indeed. I hate when I feel the nerves around my heart constrict enough to make my eyes just gush. But this is the price. This pain is the price of love, isn't it. Winter is hard. Oh is it you say Where is your ice scraper and shovel Where is your long underwear That you never take off entirelh Until you see hyacynth I turn forty nine this year And sometimes dawn is so dark and the night so early i dont get to see Marjorie!, cloud, Sally Corona, and TiFFani at all. So Im in a bit of a funk, like every winter In quick succession Huge amounts of work and pressure coldness  that no amount of hot baths and cashmere can cure and aching fingers (this new) a birthday i like celebrating with as few people as possible Holidays that make me qu...

There is something about the safety and love of gay men. In 1990 I moved to Seattle. I was 21, alone and nursing some substantial heartbreak and disappointment. Capitol Hill/Seattle, 1990 - 1998. I had inadvertently moved to the gayest neighborhood in Seattle. Even better, I had moved into an apartment building with the best neighbors ever, homosexual men. Men who took it upon themselves to allow me in. We danced at Neighbors most Fridays. There is  nothing like being out on a dark night in a crowded urban club full of beautiful men who love Madonna and Prince even more than I did. Dance and lights and drinks and sweat and the sexual tension between beautiful young men you could lick off the matte black walls. In a hot summer night of solidarity when a woman had the chutzpah to remove her shirt and disco wildly in her Maidenform, the DJ taunted her and tried to express how unwelcome she was.  In response: her male escorts proceeded to remove all their clothing down t...

On St. Valentine's Day my True Love gave to me: My beloved runs naked into my bedroom. It's Otis! It's Otis! And it is. Was. I can't really get into it. The worst/best  part was burying him in my parents' backyard wrapped in a flowered sheet Steven has brought incense The kind I like An expensive gift. This will be a Buddhist ceremony, apparently. He breaks the stick in two hands me one half lights them put it to your forehead then put it in with Otis. I put it in and burn my finger on Steven's embered end And I am kneeling in the soft garden soil sobbing When I get up and around Da is holding up the side of the house. That was real nice he says. And I weep all over him. ----------------- I asked the Steven what he thought Otis' next reincarnation would be. "Magnificent." And that is a very fine answer. Or maybe that is the highest one can be to enlightenment: a charming, happy, loving, weird, troublesome house cat...

It was not a fucking good day today. Locked out of N office, where my source files are kept. Now her allies refuse to let me in and only the co-director will Who is there only 50 percent of the time. Now there is a form to check out files It should just say Mme: you are not wanted here. Clip it to a heavy clipboard and tell me to bash myself over the head with it. My job is now impossible. I still don't know what I did or what I was supposed to have done. N still won't tell me. Too busy, Well, fuck that noise.

I now understand why every hacky sack player I ever met was stoned. You need time to move a little differently when you are keeping something deliberately in the air. My brother joined the Circus. And we couldn't be prouder. We. I love that my Da and I are a couple. Odd, certainly. I like to think we might be friends. ANYWAYS: My Brother Scott. Circus Shmrikus. Vermont. Heaven. And he and his darling family came for Christmas and We were just in heaven, with the new Odessa. So after a delightful two weeks they leave and Da says I want to learn how to juggle. Scarves. Scott said he learned using scarves. Buy a set for me on Walmart.com. I'll pick it up, two counties away. Aw. No. Forget it. Amazon is dangerous. juggling Scarves. Prime? Less than 12 bucks but more than three stars. Yes. Damn, I sent it to myself. Too much trouble to cancel so I send  him a fresh order. He is delighted and confused and trying to rig them to make them operate in the air as he wants/ex...

 Here are Bowie’s booktrysts, in reverse chronological order: The Age of American Unreason ( public library ) by Susan Jacoby (2008) The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao ( public library ) by Junot Diaz (2007) The Coast of Utopia (trilogy) ( public library ) by Tom Stoppard (2007) Teenage: The Creation of Youth 1875–1945 ( public library ) by Jon Savage (2007) Fingersmith ( public library ) by Sarah Waters (2002) The Trial of Henry Kissinger ( public library ) by Christopher Hitchens (2001) Mr. Wilson’s Cabinet of Wonder ( public library ) by Lawrence Weschler (1997) A People’s Tragedy: The Russian Revolution 1890–1924 ( public library ) by Orlando Figes (1997) The Insult ( public library ) by Rupert Thomson (1996) Wonder Boys ( public library ) by Michael Chabon (1995) The Bird Artist ( public library ) by Howard Norman (1994) Kafka Was the Rage: A Greenwich Village Memoir ( public library ) by Anatole Broyard (1993) Beyond the Brillo Box: The ...