Archives for posts with tag: Arts

You know, I just drove 700 miles from Petrolia to LA. I listened to the radio as much as I could bear it.

In between the many, many Christian broadcasts that you can hear very easily and NPR which you can’t, I listened to love songs.

Not one of them from one man to another, one woman to another.

Whilst we may be addressing our visibility in tv and film we are woefully represented on the radio… especially the love songs where I never hear my love mentioned.

Why is this so? Is the music industry a harder nut to crack than the military or sports?

I remember when I fell in love with a woman the songs on the radio seemed to make more sense. They had meaning and relevance.

When will I hear that love song? When will I see a real queer love affair on TV that isn’t the butt of some joke?

Why do I have to re-imagine every love song to include me?

The love between two men is implicit in George Michael‘s work but not explicit. It is obvious in Joan Armatrading‘s work but her songs have not been played for a very long time. Elton John is gay but mostly wrote the music for Bernie Taupin’s heterosexual lyrics.

When I hear queer love songs, lyrics that speak to my condition, on the radio… I will know for sure that things have really changed for people like me.

IMG_5082

My final days in Petrolia.  I’m home now.  The exhausting 11 hour drive.

Stopped in San Francisco for lunch.

We must have climbed the steep hill to Alexander Cockburn‘s Tower ten times a day, getting ready for Daisy’s first paying guests.

By the time we were finished it looked magnificent.  Beating rugs like Victorian chamber maids.  Oiling the redwood kitchen.  Making beds with fresh white linen.  Sweeping cobwebs off the windows.

Giving succor to the inner butler that lurks within.

Here is the sculpture that decorates the path:

Here are the fossilized fish that decorate the bathroom:

Here are random pictures I failed to publish earlier:

Small Girl

DOP

Exterior

Shaz

Stephen N

Stephen N

Lizard

Blue Rince

Denver Boy

7.

Vincent NYC

dude

Flowers 2

TSA New Museum 2

The day I met him someone had built an igloo in the dog park.

The dog pissed on it.

The sun was shining over the distant, roaring city.

Then, quite suddenly I knew I was in love.

Or at least… capable once again.

IMG_3876

 

Kent Street

Lady Rizo and Taylor Mac

Paw and Finger

Little Dog

East River

Richard C

Laundry CH

Filigree Tree

LES

Courtnay

SH

 

The Boy Mondino

Google you

Late at night when I don’t know what to do
I find photos you’ve forgotten you were in
Put up by your friends

I do, I Google you
When the day is done and everything is through
I read your journal that you kept that month in France
I’ve watched you dance

And I’m pleased your name is practically unique
It’s only you and a would-be PhD from Chesapeake
Who writes papers on the structure of the sun
I’ve read each one

I know that I should let you fade
But there’s that box and there’s your name
Somehow it never makes the pain grow less or fade or disappear
I think that I should save my soul and I should crawl back in my hole
But it’s too easy just to fold and type your name again, I fear

I Google you
When I’m all alone and don’t know what to do
And each shred of information that I gather
Says you’ve found somebody new
And it really shouldn’t matter
Ought to blow up my computer
But instead…
I Google you

 

Vincent

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