Age Inappropriate Clothing

Saturday I broke down and hit the mall. Pentagon City Mall. And it was a serious search and destroy mission. The only Christmas shopping I had done so far was for my niece and nephew and that was via Amazon.com. So I needed to get gifts for the rest of my family. I found some serious princess parking (like 2 spaces from the door), which is good because I didn't want to wear my coat into the mall. I was sure it was going to be packed & hot and I didn't want to be lugging my coat around. I ended up in Macy's where they had some pretty good sales and I got something for almost everyone.

When my sister was in town, we talked about my brother in law (b-n-l). He's a stay at home dad and while I love him, he's a bit odd. He's probably pushing 45 and has taken to growing his hair out a bit. My sister told me that his favorite clothes are what teenagers or early 20-somethings wear in LA. So, I said, "Oh, you mean like age inappropriate clothing?" She said exactly and I joked, "Are you sure he's not gay?" Gay men are all about age inappropriate clothing.

So while I was wandering around Macy's I found this section that was definitely targeting the young urban male section and got my b-n-l a sweat top with Italy on the back (the type I've seen at EVERY gay bar I've been to in the past 2 months) and then a vintage T-shirt that my sister will hate.

So speaking of age inappropriate clothing, I decided to punish myself and go into the Abercrombie and Fitch store and I'm greeted by this:Hello? Do I need this?. Do you need to just hit me in the head? I get it. I'm not young, or buff, and needless to say not the target demographic, but really. Sadly A&F is the uniform du juer among the gay society in DC. So not to have any A&F is truely not acceptable. So I wandered amongst the muscle tees, the faded and ripped jeans, the wrinkled dress shirts and despite the fact there was nothing there for me, I was just jamming to the music. A&F does play very loud music, and it's usually a good mix. So I went up to the lithe, 19th year old sales girl and asked her where they got their music from? I was thinking that maybe they had a CD for sale or something. She said no, they didn't sell it, but she recommended that I look on the internet becuase she thinks they publish the song lists there. So when I got home, I googled and not only did I find some interesting links, I found this: A&F Radio. I'm jamming to it now. ; )

One day when I have a 30 inch waist, 4% body fat, and figure out how to reverse the aging process, I'm going to go into A&F and buy something. But since I don't look like this:
I think I'm going to wait a bit.

It's a Game!

So I've been doing the online personals things for awhile. I'm not really into the whole bar scene. I don't cruise at the gym. And when I'm at work, I'm working. So it's just hard for me to meet decent guys.

So I've been on Match.com and it's been rather hit or miss for me. I have met some good guys, some of them I'm still friends with, and then there have been the not so good guys. My favorite is the guy who casually mentions on our first date that he's a felon. Check please!

So I decided to make a game of it. Literally. I like movies, so I listed ten movie quotes and then who ever got them all correct would win a date with me. I figured it would be something fun and different. Here's what it said:

"It’s just seems like this dating thing is a game anyways, so let’s “play name that movie.” The person with the highest score wins a date:

1. “I hate this city. Everyone's better looking than me.”
2. “You're a handsome devil. What's your name?”
3. “Oh my god, Eli was stalking you? That is so romantic.”
4. “Sometimes it all still feels like a mass of dots. But more and more these days, I feel like we're all connected. And it's beautiful... and funny... and good.”
5. “I can't believe this. They fucking forgot my birthday.”
6. “Have you ever experimented with heterosexuality?” “What? You mean sleep with a straight guy? What for?”
7. “Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?”
8. “It's only love. What's everyone so scared of?”
9. “Can't fall in love? But a life without love, that's terrible.”
10. “Principles only mean something when you stick to them when its inconvenient.”

Now, I'm not sure if I intimidated everyone, or if everyone looked at my list of movie quotes and figured I was some sort of drama queen or psycho. But after three weeks (and over 150 views) no one even replied to my profile. So what does that mean?

And that's a rhetorical question. I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

If Today Is Your Birthday . . .

You don't have to strive so much this year. The magic is in how well you accept yourself. Because you turn your gentleness toward yourself, you are able to do much more, much more happily. A move in January puts you in opportunity's path. Take a financial risk in June. Your connection with Libra and Taurus people is heart fortifying. Your lucky numbers are: 9, 47, 15, 38 and 2.


To be honest with you, I'm not a big horoscope fan, but this does appeal to me on a couple of different levels. Does this mean that I'll be able to recognize that I'm pushing myself to hard and not beat myself up if I try to relax a little bit? And it will be magic if I make some real improvements in accepting myself. But here's hoping. I'm not planning a move in Janauary, but that probably doesn't mean a physical move. And while I'm not really familiar with any Tauruses (tuauri?), Mom is a Libra.


Speaking of the family, my sister flew into town yesterday for a meeting this morning. Yep a five hour flight from LA to DC for a 4 hour meeting. And she flew back this afternoon. I picked her up at Dulles and after she checked into her hotel, we wandered around Gtown and did some window shopping and then grabbed a bite. It was good to just talk with her and find out how things are going in her life. It's weird what a great relationship we have now. As adults. As opposed to when we were younger. We weren't at each other throats, but it just seems like we get along better and relate to each other better now.


And I'm definitely making progress on the Dad front. He sent me a very touching birthday card and inside he added a couple of things. He wanted to know that he was concerned about my "lifestyle" becuase it puts me at risk. Of gay bashing. Which is true, but wasn't the first thing I thought of when he wrote that. But it's just nice to confirm that he loves and cares about me. And today I got an email from my Dad. Directly. To only me! He was asking about my sister's visit and what her plans are for next year. So I think we are making progress. Which is great cause was starting to get worried about Christmas in LA.

Vodka is not my friend

Despite the flailex with my refinancing (more on that later) I did manage to escape work early and then got to work prepping for the party. Clean the condo, hang some Christmas lights, hit Whole Foods and did some serious damage, came back and started cooking. My timing worked out pretty well as I finished up everything around 645 so I had time to grab a shower before my first guests arrived. Of course, that's when it dawns on me that my beverage selection was not going to cut it. So once J arrived, I bolted over to the liquor stores and picked up a couple of things.

It was a small intimate crowd but we had fun. Eating, talking, and drinking. Lots of drinking. Before going over to Pallette for Thanksgiving dinner, we discovered a nice smooth little twist to a Sea Breeze. Grey Goose L-orange and cranberry juice. It kind of had a holiday flavor. So we started with that. Well, I actually started with a red bull and vodka since I hadn't managed to get my disco nap in. So needless to say, the vodka was flowing. And flowing. Between 8 people, we managed to polish off 2.5 bottles of vodka. So it was not pretty. And I really don't remember how much I had I just remember thinking that my glass was never empty.

Which can only explain why I ended up Cobalt with E dancing. That part gets a little fuzzy. I think I had switched to water at that point, but I was pretty hammered. But we had fun dancing and I think the music was good. Not really sure. And while Cobalt wasn't as packed as Apex probably was, it was a hell of a lot closer to my place when I finally decided that I need to go home. And I needed to go home RIGHT THEN!

Getting out into the cold air helped a bit, but I was still a hurting puppy that night. And when I woke up on Saturday, the first thing I did was congratulate myself on having the foresight to cancel my trainer that morning. I was in no shape to work out at all. In fact, making the periodic trips to the fridge for liquids and to the bathroom, was the only exercise I could handle. I just laid in bed waiting to feel better. And waiting and waiting and waiting. It truely is amazing what crappy TV is on these days.

Around 5PM I started to feel a bit more normal. So I cleaned up the mess in the house and then got ready for the company holiday party.

As I drove to the party E called to ask how I was feeling. Apparently he had suffered as much as I did from the previous night. He joked about going to the White Party at Nation, but we both agreed that was so not going to happen.

The party was fun. I think it's good to see people outside of work. I'm usually so in the zone during the day that I barely have time for the niceties, so it was good to be able to just hang out and chat.

During the cocktail hour, some of the young guns talked about going out to Georgetown after the party. At my first company party I had gotten hammered and had joined them in Georgetown. It was fun. But as is typical with me, I'm having a great time and it's all good. And then there's that one drink that's the tipping point. And when that happens, I have to leave RIGHT THEN. And after some awful shot, I decided that was it, walked out of the bar and got a cab home. And then suffered the whole next day. And after my little vodka episode last night, I wasn't sure going to Georgetown was a good idea. So as the party was breaking up a bit, I silently slipped out of the hotel. I'm sure I'll catch some crap about it. But atleast I feel human right now.

Love Your Hair. Hope you Win!

After escaping work I made it home and then walked into Dupont. I decided I wanted to get a haircut before my little soiree tomorrow night, so I thought I would try a different place. The barber shop I had been going to, while cheap, was not good. So it was time for someplace new.

My hair is a challenge. I've got three cowlicks. So my hair grows weird. And I tend to keep my hair short, which makes it even more unmanageable. I have to use a lot of hair product for it to do anything remotely normal.

I've always had short hair. With my Dad in the army, I always had the buzzcut. When I rebelled at the age of 12 or 13, I was allowed to let it grow out a bit. Never over my ears, or down to my eyes in front. And of course nothing even remotely touching my shoulders. Yikes, I would have looked like a hippy.

Of course then I went to the Naval Academy and then into the Navy so long hair was never an option. And now, long hair sounds interesting, but not practical. Long hair is not professional at all. Unless you are some hippy washed out super geek. Which I am not. And in the gay world, long hair is particularly taboo. I'm attracted to guys with short hair, so I tend to keep my hair short as well. It's all very odd.

But after the holidays I may try to grow it out for a couple of months. If I can do it and not go all Tom Hanks in Castaway. We'll see. Something different atleast.

The Crew Club

No. It’s not a sporting club. It’s an adult, on-site, entertainment club for men. Or, in common terminology, a bath house. Hidden behind a dirty, dingy little façade on one of DC’s main thoroughfares is an honest to goodness sex club. Though I wouldn’t really count on the honest or goodness there.

Of course, I’ve never been in there. Not that I haven’t ever stepped into such an establishment, but I’ve never been in the Crew Club. Someone once explained it to me this way: “You don’t piss in your own sandbox.” And of course, even if you have your favorite room there, you never, ever, admit it.

But seriously, I’ve never been inside. But I see the advertisements for it in the Washington Blade all the time. It’s always some picture of a hot shirtless guy who just wants some fun. Yeah, I’m sure all of the clientele are 22 year old jocks/nymphos. But hey, you need to market to your audience and so that works. It does catch my eye.

For a while, they were promoting the fact that there was a gym on site. I’m sure it’s like a crappy hotel gym with a couple of dumbbells, maybe a stair-master, or a stationary bike. But think about it for awhile, you’re in a sex club. Do you really want to sit on that bike seat? And really, if you’re seriously interested in working out, do you really think a sex club is the right place? On the other hand, I guess you could ask all of those hot shirtless jock/nymphos who are just wandering around for some lifting techniques. Yeah, that’s it.

The new advertisement angle that the Crew Club is using to get customer is the fact it now has Wi-Fi!! Yep, wireless connectivity is now available at the Crew Club. Okay, I have to ask. WTF? Wireless connectivity at a sex club? Am I missing something?

Are you going to go online to ManHunt or M4M and cruise for sex while you are AT a sex club? How lazy are you? Get you ass out of the little cubicle and just wander around! Be social for a change!

Or, is this for your mid-day customer who had to leave the office to “take a meeting” downtown. So there he is working on some marketing spreadsheets while some other guy is giving him a blow job? He’s got one hand on the key board of his laptop and the other on the back of the guy's head pushing it down while saying, “Oh that’s it, YEAH, that’s IT, oh YEAH, oh YEAH, that’s IT, oh YESSS!!!!! I’ve finished my quarterly sale report!!!! Fuck YEAH!!!”

Passive-Aggressive Relationships 101

I came out to my Dad over a month ago. I know that it's going to take time for him to be able to understand/comprehend it. And maybe I thought he would handle it like my Mom did. Not really denial, but just not addressing it. We've talked for years about things other than my personal life, so I figured that it would just continue that way. We'd talk about the weather, or sports, or work, or whatever, and just avoid the "friction points." (a lovely term I've learned from work).

Instead, my Dad has taken a different, more passive-aggressive route. He doesn't call me any more. I call home and he'll talk to me, but only for a few minutes and then he'll pass the phone to my Mom. And he emails me, but he doesn't mention me. He sends out his SITREPS (it's a military thing) to me and my sister, but he won't mention me. He mentions my sister, my niece, my nephew, but there's no mention of me. I've sent him emails, things that aren't necessarily direction questions, but something that I thought he would atleast respond to me about. But he hasn't.

Despite my temptation to either not call or not email at all, or flat out ask a question that requires an answer, I'm just trying to act like normal. I respond to his emails. I send him emails. I still call home.

I mentioned Dad's behaviour to my sister and while she did have to agree with me, she did note that most of Dad's emails are about Dad. Not really about anyone else. And that's sort of true. But still, it hurts. I'm not sure if he's so afraid to ask me something that he's decided not to ask me anything.

A good friend loves to give me crap about my inability to speak openly about my feelings, my emotions. Needless to say, open and loving communication has never been something we practiced in my family. And if I think the email/phone call game is fun, I just can't wait for Christmas in LA.

Replanting the American Dream (Part II)

It's not enough that we need to make some serious changes to improve the US's reputation around the world. We need to make serious changes to improve the United States itself.

How many people in the United States:

• are homeless right now?
  
• are hungry?
  
• have no health insurance?
• have no job?
• have more than one job just to make ends meet?

These are just basic questions that characterize life in America. I don't know the exact answers by the way. I'm sure you could look them up somewhere. But the answer is the same. It's too many. Too many people are not living the American dream right now.

President Henry Hoover made the claim, "A chicken in every pot and a car in every garage." Not a bad standard to measure posperity by. He said that over 70 years ago, and we still aren't there. Sure there have been a lot of improvements in our standard of living as a whole, but not in our standard of living for everyone. This isn't an averages thing. I have three chickens and the next two families have none, so it averages out to a chicken in every pot. That's not the way it works. Tell that to the family who has nothing to eat.

We need to do something, as a nation, to change it. And no I don't think it's the government's responsibility to fix everything, but I do think the government needs to stop pushing tax breaks on oil companies that are making record breaking profits and maybe channel some of the money for health care for children, or for foodstamps, or for job training.

As we march into this season of love, giving, and absolute materialism, we should all try to stop and think about what we can do to help make a change, to make a difference, to help build a better American.

(p.s. I promise a fun, light, posting later this week.)

Replanting the American Dream (Part I)

I like to travel. It's something I picked up from my parents. We did the traditional family trip every summer. You know, the 8 states in three days type of thing. And when my Dad was stationed overseas, we would travel across Europe. I remember taking the train to Berlin (then surrounded by East Germany) and complaining that I couldn't have the top bunk. Or getting lost in France and my Dad asking for directions in his atrocious pseudo french. I was really quite lucky.

As I grew up, I traveled on my own. I did a lot with the Navy, but I did alot on my own. I was also a voracious reader when I was young, so there were so many places I wanted to go to, to see for myself, to experience. And yet as I grew old enough to be able to afford to travel to some of these places, they became less accessible, especially to Americans. I wanted to travel the Silk Road and go to Samarkand. But that was part of Russia and is now part of Uzbekistan. Being a solitary American traveler there is not a good idea. Or the sand/mud cities in Yemen. Or the ancient African capital of Timbuktu. When I went to Morroco in 1995, I felt definitely uneasy, and that was the most modern of African countries and one which the United States had very close ties. I used to joke that to be a real traveler, you needed to be born in the late 1800s and be British. That was when the British Empire ruled the world and a British citizen could travel almost anywhere without fear of getting kidnapped or killed.

Part of the excitement and thrill of traveling for me has not just been experiencing the local culture, but also bringing a little bit of America with me when I travel. With the advent of satellites TV, most people get the Dallas/Jerry Springer/Cops version of Americans. So I like to think of myself as an ambassador for the US. But that's getting harder.

In 2003, I went to Denmark for a biking trip with my Dad. While in Copenhagen, I went to a bar for a drink and ended up talking with a guy. He kept going on about the US and Iraq and despite my attempts to convince him that I didn't agree with all of the policies of the US Government, he wouldn't let it go. I finally finished my drink and just decided to leave. I politely said good night to the guy, and he responded, "But I don't want you to go, I'm not done talking to you." I was this guys sole chance to communicate his displeasure about the US, and despite the fact that I agreed with him, it wasn't enough.

In today's Washington Post, there is a great op-ed by David Ignatious. It talks about how our American values and ideals have been tarnished and are now seen as fake, or insincere, by most of the world. If you never leave your red state, then you may not see or agree with this, but if you ever want to travel, or even conduct business in a foreign counrty, then this is something you'll need to deal with. Right or wrong, it's the perception that is out there. And we need to do something to fight that perception. And that means making some real concrete changes. And we need to make them now. We need to say no to torture, and no quibbling or dissembling or equivicating on what the definition of torture is. We need to share the bounty of the US with those who are dying and hungry around the world. We need to make the US the leader of the world where people want to follow us, copy us, envy us. We need to lead by example. We need leadership to deal with not only national issues, but global ones as well. We can't solve all of the world's problems, but we should try to help where we can and as an absolute minimum, we shouldn't be making it any worse.

The Year In Trey

Hat tip to Joe for the idea.

In favor of segregation

Last Thursday, in what can only be explained as a sure sign of the rapidly approaching end of world, I went out. Yes, I went out on a Thursday night.

I had heard of this bar in Adams Morgan that does a gay night called Hush and thought I would check it out. I've lived in DC for over a year now and never seem to leave the gay ghetto (and why should I? It *IS* fabulous after all). But a friend and I decided to head up to Hush which was hosting a Madonna CD release party. And as sure as death and taxes, Madonna will bring all of the gay boys out. So we were thinking it would be fun.

We cabbed up to Adams Morgan and as we emerged from the cab, we could hear the music thumping. That was a good sign. However, the music was thumping from a big black van in front of Hush that had "Hot 99.5" on it. 99.5 is one of the radio stations in town and definitely plays to the younger and more urban crowd. Sure you'll hear Madonna on it, but you'll also hear alot of rap and hip-hop. So the appearance of the van and 99.5 was an interesting twist.

We got inside Hush and I avoided the $10 all you can drink option since I did have to work the following day and my friend and I sort of hung out. Hush is held at a restaurant/bar/club called Chloe and it is way cool inside. Very cool space, interesting lighting, just very hip. And the music was pumping in here also. Some good music, but only one in six songs was by Madonna, so it was a bit weird. Especially with the Madonna concert on the video screen in the background.

The crowd inside was definitely very mixed. There were some people who were hold over from dinner, some who had just arrived to start drinking, etc. It was black, white, asian, hispanic. And it was definitely an interesting mix of straight and gay.

Like some sad junior high school dance, at first the two crowds were at opposite ends of the bar. And then as more and more people showed up, it became more mixed.

Despite my lack of buzz on Diet Coke, I was having fun and my friend and I were playing spot the hottie. After a bit, we both turned our attention to one guy. Moderate height, good build, blue sweater with a funky design on it, jeans, short brownish hair, and good shoes. Definitely a candidate. But he was hanging out with a girl who we just assumed was his fag hag. We watched them for a bit and then became concerned when she kept touching him. My friend and I looked at each other and thought, okay, but some people are like that. But our concern turned to horror as they proceeded to hooch like there was no tomorrow. So much for the gay guy and his fag hag. We were looking at a metrosexual and his girlfriend. We quickly went to the bar and got a drink.

We left a little bit after that episode. We were just a little bit depressed. The music still was only okay. The crowd was young and hot, but there was too much girl-boy dirty dancing going on. Please, get a room. I don't see that much hooching and grinding at a circuit party! We left and cabbed back to our gayborhood for a night cap before heading our separate ways.

I think it might be interesting to go back to Hush when it's only a gay night. But it didn't start to get crowded until almost 11PM and that's late for me on a work night.

Prevarications (Part 2)

Half truths and lies. Sounds familiar doesn't it? You can't pick up a paper, or turn on the news, without some sort of distortion going on. The war in Iraq. Price gouging on oil prices. "We don't torture."

I heard Sen. Frist on TV talk about how they are bringing fiscal responsibility to Washington? Umm, hello, remember that Transportation Bill? It had so much pork in it you could go on the Atkins diet for years. How about the $223 million dollar bridge to an island that has FIFTY people on it? How fiscally responsible is that?

Apparently VP Cheney, in 51 separate instances has lied or exaggerated claims about Iraq to justify the war. Check out this report.

I guess all of this stuff just rubs me the wrong way because we should expect honesty, integrity, and accountability from our leaders. That's the Navy in me crying out. I want to believe in my President, I want to support him. And yet every day, more and more lies, half truths, and deceptions come out. And it's not just our leaders these days, it's everyone.

This is the new acceptable behavior. A common mixture of half truths and distorted facts to justify what someone has done, or to justify why it's not their fault.

I actually know someone who has the following in their email signature block:

"I solemnly swear to tell the truth as I know it, the whole truth as I believe it to be, and nothing but what I think you need to know."

Nice. It's his truth, and if pesky little facts don't support his truth, then he's not going to tell you. Now how much would you trust this person?

Sound like anyone you know?

Prevarications (Part 1)

I had several jobs on board USS Reeves. The Main Engines Officer, First Lieutenant, Missile Officer, and Battery Control Officer. As First Lieutenant and as Missile Officer, I saw my fair share of Captain's Mast. If you got a negative score on your ASVABS, you became a seaman and went to First Division as a deck ape. Our motto, "We like them big and stupid." If you were a gunners mate, you had to go through some training and were pretty smart, but I just had a group of guys who liked to bend the rules too much and were stupidly caught way to often. Hence the many trips to Captain's Mast.

Captain's Mast is the Navy's form of Non-Judicial Punishment. A Navy Captain has significant powers on board a ship and when someone does something wrong, a lot of times it is handled via Captain's Mast. Rules of evidence don't apply, it's not really a formal thing. The punishment can range from extra duty to restriction to cut in rank to a reduction in your pay. It can be pretty severe at times depending on the offense.

Coming out of the overhaul, I ran into alot of discipline problems. Alot of the junior Sailors had gotten use to the almost 9-5 aspect of shipboard life during an overhaul and spending their nights out in town. So going back to sea for weeks at a time was a little upsetting to them. It seemed to put a cramp in their social lifes. And yes I know, you're in the Navy, aren't you supposed to go to sea? Well tell that to Seaman T.

Seaman T decided that the whole going out to sea for ship trials wasn't really working for him. So he concocted some story about being sick, missed the ships departure, checked into the hospital, then went AWOL from the hospital, and then was picked up by the shore patrol in Waikiki for being drunk. So when the ship returned, Seaman T was brought on board by the shore patrol and we held Captain's Mast shortly thereafter.

Captain's Mast with the Anti-Christ (see more here) was never fun. He stood on the middle of the ships bridge in front of a podium upon which the Captain would have the disciplinary report. In a single line to his left flanking the podium were the XO, the Chaplain, and the Command Master Chief. In a single line to his right opposite the XO et al were the offender's chain of command. The Department Head, the Division Officer (me), the Division Chief, and the Leading Petty Officer. The accused stood in front of the podium and perpendicular to me. At Captain's Mast, the CO would go into screaming overdrive. It was harsh. I was scared and intimidated and I wasn't even the one in trouble. The Anti-Christ also had this habit of slowly rocking back and forth on the podium, leaning in towards the accused when we wanted to make a point, backing off, and then coming back as he built up to full speed. It was quite impressive. But also scarey since I could see this huge, gigantic eye brow lashes the Anti Christ had that were perpendicular to his head and looked like mini-antennas.

Anyways, soon to be Seaman Apprentice T was feeling the full force of the Anti-Christ and I was listening along to the bombastic speech from the CO when he said, "And I'm sick and tired of your prevarications." He went on, but my mind was frozen. "Prevarications?" What are those? I'm a college graduate (albiet from the Naval Academy, not exactly a liberal arts school) and I don't know what "prevarication" means. And I kept thinking about it. And then I realized that there was little chance that Seaman Apprentice T knew what prevarications were either. I'm sure he felt like Charlie Brown being yelled at by his teacher, "Wahhh, whahh,whaahh, wahh, BAD! Wahh, whaahh, wahh, BAD!"

After Captain's Mast I went back to my stateroom and pulled out my dictionary.

Prevarication: "Half truths and lies."

Annapolis - The Movie

Yes, there is going to be a movie about the Naval Academy called "Annapolis". The scuttlebutt (that's Navy lingo for gossip) is that while it was not filmed at the Naval Academy, everyone is hoping that it will act as a psuedo recruiting effort sort of like what Top Gun did for the Navy in the late 80s.

So since I am a bit of a pop culture junky, I was leafing through the latest edition of Entertainment Weekly and saw where they had reviewed the trailer for "Annapolis":

"I didn't know Abercrombie & Fitch had their own navy. Stirring and patriotic in a totally manufactured, insincere way. C-." Ouch.

Of course, I was going to go see it just to be able to make the snide comments about how completely inaccurage and unrealistic it is. But now I need to go to look at the hotties as well!

Honor Bound to Defend Freedom

The timing of this post is a little bit odd. It's been a long crazy week and this is my first opportunity to write anything and today is Veteran's Day. So it's just an odd combination.

Last week, I went to go see Guantanamo at the Studio Theatre. Other than the subject title, I knew little about the play. I've got some strong feelings on this subject, so I was looking forward to this play. And I guess I should say that the term "play" probably isn't appropriate. Performance art isn't the right term either. On the playbill, they use the term "spoken evidence" and "documentary theatre" that's what it is. Against a back drop to cots and chain linked fences are several detainees and in the fore ground there are six chairs. At the beginning, actors comes to sit in the chair and take turns speaking to the audience. The "play" is a collection of personal stories told from interviews, personal letters, and transcripts from news accounts or press briefings. It focuses on four British detainees captured in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Gabon who are transported to and detained in Guantanamo.

The whole evening was just amazing in a sort of intense way. We've read of the detainees and the treatment in Cuba. But they are just faceless entities that are beyond our knowledge. It's bad that it's happening, but it's happening to people we don't know, have no connection with. But by using the transcripts, and interviews, and letters (which includes parts where an ominous off screen voice declares "censored" as the actors speak), it humanizes these detainess as real people. And to be honest, hearing these actors speak with a British accent makes it even more real. If the characters had spoken with an arabic accent, it might have been easy to dismiss the stories of their treatment, but it's hard not to believe someone who sounds just like us when they sign their letters, "Love to you and Mum."

The Washington Post did a good review of the play. And I'll admit that Post is right that the play is pretty strong in its positions and that the way the play is performed it doesn't lend itself to presenting any opposing point of view. The arragant, cavalier portrayal of Donald Rumsfeld during one of his many press conferences during the war just seems so callous and cold now. The Post also mentions that the problem with the play is that only people who are pre-disposed to opposing the situation in Guantanamo are the ones who will see this play. Needless to say, I don't think Frist, Hasturt, or Bill O'Rielly are going to see this play.

Earlier this year I sent an email to my USNA 89 mail list to see what my classmates thought of Abu Ghraib, Guanatanamo, and the torture and I got a serious flaming for believing that this was anything more than a small group of bad apples. So I actually started to read up on the subject. The ACLU has reuqested copies of the Army's CID reports via the Freedom of Information Act, and despite the parts that were redacted, a pretty clear picture formed in my head. The different reports told of prisoners, detainess, being held and tortured in safe houses and other facilities all across Iraq. Not just Abu Ghraib. And there were affidavits from medical officers saying that some of the wounds on Iraqi prisoners were not caused by the excuses being offered by some of the authorities. In reading one of the reports I learned that a great way to inflict pain on someone with minimal physical evidence is to stand on someone's head. There is little muscle between the skin and the skull, so no bruising. How sick is that. And the reports from CID were maddingly incomplete. Prisoner A reported this. This piece of evidence (a statement, or medical report, or something) supported this claim. Interviewed suspected soldier who denied claim. Unable to obtain any additional information. Report closed as unsubstantiated. There were hundreds of these types of reports. And with my military background, I could see the "going through the motions" effort that was taking place.

"Honor Bound To Defend Freedom" is the motto of the Joint Task Force in Guantanamo. I just don't think we are living up to the motto. And how sad is that?

The Letter

After a couple of email exchanges, we stopped talking about it. I sort of expected that. Denial is just one of the family traits I inherited from my parents. But then I got an email from my Dad saying that he was going to write a letter to discuss the situation.

The good news is that he wanted to make sure I knew that I was still his son and that he still loves me. When I read that first paragraph, I started to shake a bit. It was like a weight being lifted from my shoulders.

The bad news is that he recognizes that he has to accept my "lifestyle" but that he will never condone it. And I understand his point of view. He's not exposed to any gays or lesbians in his every day life, so he had no idea who they are or what they do. He probably has some sort of image stuck in his head from some Pride Parade on TV where they spent 99% of the coverage on the Dykes on Bikes, leather guys, and draq queens. I'm not sure what exactly he thinks my lifestyle is, but I'm sure in his mind it involves dressing up in women's clothing, taking drugs, and having wild crazy sex all the time. And I don't I wish sometimes (the sex part, not the women's clothes part).

I'm one of the million of your run-of-the-mill gay guys. I work, work out, pay taxes, pay bills, give to charities, go to church, like to travel, etc. I'll go out for drinks and dinner with my friends occasionally. Like to go to movies. Do you see anything inherently gay there? No. But Dad doesn't see that, or should I say instead, Dad hasn't seen that. After 30 plus years in the military and then now retired in white bread central, he just hasn't experienced a normal gay person.

He hopes my "lifestyle" won't change me from the good person I am. And I do. I'm hoping that now I'll be a bit happier, be a bit more honest, and one day fall in love. That's all this "new lifestyle" means to me.

I did send an email back to Dad letting him know that I had gotten his letter and to tell him that I loved him, understood his feelings, and that one day he would understand that who I am is nothing to be ashamed of.

I expect we'll settle into the old familiar routine of avoiding any discussion of any real depth. The weather, the job, football. All are safe topics that we can use to communicate with. And that's okay for now. I've made the first step. And in time, I hope there will be more steps.

Blog-versary!

Well apparently I started blogging a year ago yesterday. How weird. It's really been an interesting experience and a great outlet for me.

My first steps down this path came from Howard Kurts' Media Matters in the Washington Post. I loved reading about how the different media were telling the story of the day. Yes the Post is liberal, the Times conervative, etc. But he looked across the spectrum, from the Wall Street Journal to the LA Times to even some foreign press. And I found it fascinating how the different media were representing "the facts" of a story. What parts they played up and which one's they didn't highlight. At the deli downstairs at work, I always make a point to see what stories make the front page of the Post as compared to what makes the front page of the Times. What news you get these days is so dependent on what news outlet you listen to/read. And once you find a particular news media that appeals to you, you kind of get sucked in and so the news kind of reinforces whatever belief system you have.

In one of Howard Kurtz's columns, he mentioned Andrew Sullivan and that was my first foray into blogs. I used to be a republican (old school, you know smaller government, fiscally conservative) so some of his writings resonated with me. And he's gay too. So that also made him very interesting. So I started reading his blog about the time of the Federal Marriage Ammendment fiasco. His writing was sharp, insightful, and just powerful. I still read Andrew. He's an amazing writer. I agree with him on a lot of issues, but disagree with him on others. But I like the fact that he tries to reflect a consistent, balanced approach to issues. Or atleast that's my opinion.

In one of Andrew's blogs, he mentioned something call a blogjam that was held at a club in DC last October. Since I had just moved to DC, I thought this was would make for a fun Sunday night and it was. One of the thing Andrew's blog didn't mention was the full title of the evening: "Homo Blog Jam." So it was a bunch of gay guys reading from their blogs and it was awesome!

There were about 8 or so different writers/speakers include some of my now favorites: Jimbo, Joe.My.God, and GeekSlut. Some we were funny and irreverent (Sonnet to my Dick, or a poem called, The Bear in the Sling.” Some were heart wrenching (suicide, lovers dying), some were political (Andrew Sullivan read from his blog about gay marriages), some were more social (the growing crystal meth problem in the gay community and the parallel rise in HIV infections).

But they were all so good. So many different perspective. And so I finally decided to take the plunge a couple of days later. And a year later this is where I am. More on that later I think.

Cruise Highlights

I've been sucked into work in the worst way, but did want to share some of the highlights of the cruise. I'm working up a full fledge trip report. Hopefully that will be done next weekend. In the meantime, here' are some good tidbits:

- Overheard: "She (and they were referring to a guy) was so ugly the tide wouldn't take her out."

- All of the hot men.

















- Shann Carr, the resident comedienne tells this story of the first Atlantis cruise. It's 6AM after the White Party and the crowd is still jumping. Another cruise ship slowly approaches on the port side and then falls back. Then it comes up the starboard side, and then falls back. Later the Captain said that the other cruise ship had called them on the radio and said, "Are you all right? There is smoke (fog), explosions (flashing lights & lasers) and people screaming on your deck (people dancing), are you going down?" The Captain wasn't sure how to respond. Obviously some people were going down. ; )

- We had Charo and Deborah Cox on the cruise! And I sang (badly) with Deborah Cox. What a great show. She totally rules!

- Snorkeling in Cabo San Lucas. It was just clear and so amazing.













- Buying drugs in Mexico. And no, not what you think. If you need to pick up Viagra, or Cialis, or whatever, Mexico is the place to go. I wandered into one of the pharmacies where some of the steriod queens were trying to buy some stuff so of course I did a little bit of eves-dropping. They were looking for demerol, oxycontin, and some other stuff I didn't recognize.

- Which brings me to why they need the drugs. In a case of poor planning, I schedule my massage at 9AM on the day after the white party. I went to sleep somewhere around 4AM, but was in the ready room of the spa at little before 9AM where I saw some cracked out muscle queen cruising the steam room. They need drugs like demerol so they can sleep after a hard night of partying with tina. Just say no boys. Just say no.

- The "Mommie Dearest Obstacle Course" that involved yelling out "Tina, bring me the axe" and cutting roses. And slamming a pepsi and yelling, "Don't fuck with me boys, this isn't my first time at the rodeo." And of course reconstructing a hangar while yelling, "No more wire hangers!!". Just too funny.

- Dancing under the stars.

More in the trip report.

It's a Process

More email exchanges with my Dad. I told him Mom knew, but didn't like to talk about it. That my sister and brother-in-law knew and were fine with it. His response?

"Fine? NO WAY!!!"

He also made a comment about expecting condolences when other people find out. And he's concerned about the family name ending. To be honest, my last name is 13 letters long and is awful. Is it really so bad that the family name ends? And if this was such a concern of his, then why didn't he mention this before? Why didn't he ask me when I was going to get married and have children?

We just don't talk about important stuff in my family and it's making this process even more difficult. And as much as I want to joke and be sarcastic with him about some of this (one of my more endearing defense mechanisms), I know this isn't the time or the place for jokes. Though I did mention to my Mom and sister via email that maybe that illegitimate child from a Thai prostitute wasn't sounding so bad right now.

I'm going to call them again tomorrow night and act like everything is normal. I keep hoping that if we all act normal, then it will seem normal to him. But I'm not so sure. The emails this week have been rough and emotionally draining.

As I was blog-hopping during lunch I saw a great quote at Joe.My.God: "If you do not tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people." - Virginia Woolf

This a process that will take time. I keep telling myself that. And I pray that it will all turn out well in the end.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

It's not just a DoD policy.

I came home from the cruise and finally looked at email. Three from my Dad. He told me that he loved me and thought I was a good person. But he said that he felt like he had been kicked in the balls, that he didn't understand why I was putting him through this pain/anguish, that he didn't understand why I was telling him this now. He doesn't think that things will be the same between us. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't see any reason to talk about it. Why wasn't "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" an option.

I called them tonight to chat. About work, the cruise, etc. Since we never talk about personal stuff, it was easy to avoid the issue. Which is what I thought he wanted. But barely two minutes into the conversation, he told me to have a good night and said goodbye.

Deep breathe.

All things change in time. My relationship with my Dad changed significantly after his accident. And it changed for the better. I hope in time that Dad will understand, and respect, my need to be honest with him. And I hope our relationship will be stronger and better because of it.

He's concerned about what my sister or Mom will think, say, do. So I need to write him again to reassure them that they know. My sister is good with it. My Mom? She still needs time I think.

Time. Love. And Patience. I think it will all work out. I pray that it does, I really do.