Big Gay Links

The New York Times today has "Gay Marriage Lawsuits May Force Obama's Hand." In case this topic is of interest to you, I must say that Ari Ezra Waldman on Towleroad has been doing an excellent job of making legal analysis interesting and understandable. Here is his analysis of the DOJ's defense of DOMA in appealing Gill v. OPM and Massachusetts v. HHS earlier this month. (For example, I already knew about the two types of tests mentioned in the NYT article, rational basis and strict scrutiny, from his breakdowns on Prop 8, even though I knew nothing about them before.) Here is further detail around the rational basis test.

Denver friend Mia has started a blog, http://samelovesame.blogspot.com/ where people can write in with their big gay love stories. The header explains what inspired her.

Born This Way is "a photo/essay project" where people submit photos from childhood that may reveal the first inklings of their "innate LGBT selves."

They R Who They R

Listening to the Katy Perry album:

"What's with all these songs featuring 'glitter'? Do people really wear glitter anymore? Hers and Ke$ha's..."

"Well, now they have shimmer. Which is, like, smaller glitter."


Showtune Friday Sneak Attack

Because it's our anniversary.


The Positive

Delta Sky Magazine recommended spending time each day "journaling about a positive." This is what happened the day after. I was sitting on a plane waiting for it to push back from the gate, looking out the window. One of the aircraft marshalers was standing outside with his two orange wands, but he wasn't busy. He caught me looking at him, so he waved the wands in the air and made a "Y" shape. I smiled and gave him a thumbs up, and he smiled back.


For Whom The Bell Tolls

I lost my Hemingway virginity. This was part of the "project" where I ask friends what their favorite book is, and then I read it. (I've only done that twice, but it has worked out well both times.) I was enjoying the book just fine, but I fell for it around p. 84 of my Scribner paperback copy when Pilar tells the others what Valencia is like. There are two pages talking about what she saw and did in Valencia, and I could read those pages over and over.

"The melon of Valencia is for eating. When I think of those melons long as one's arm, green like the sea and crisp and juicy to cut and sweeter than the early morning in summer. Aye, when I think of those smallest eels, tiny, delicate and in mounds on the plate. Also the beer in pitchers all through the afternoon, the beer sweating in its coldness in pitchers the size of water jugs."
"And what did thee when not eating nor drinking?"
"We made love in the room with the strip wood blinds hanging over the balcony and a breeze through the opening of the top of the door which turned on hinges. We made love there, the room dark in the day time from the hanging blinds, and from the streets there was the scent of the flower market and the smell of burned powder from the firecrackers of the traca that ran through the streets exploding each noon during the Feria. It was a line of fireworks that ran through all the city, the firecrackers linked together and the explosions running along on poles and wires of the tramways, exploding with great noise and a jumping from pole to pole with a sharpness and a cracking of explosion you could not believe."

There are several stories within the story, like the Valencia tale, and all of them are great.

I liked the line about snowstorms: "In a snowstorm it always seemed, for a time, as though there were no enemies." I liked the line about "lasts": "But last nights are never any good. Last nothings are any good. Yes, last words were good sometimes. 'Viva my husband who was Mayor of this town' was good."

I told my boyfriend I would name a cat or dog "Robert Jordan" after reading this.



I snapped this photo from the train because there was a poster on the opposite platform that said, "Jesus: he's not a baby anymore." There was a picture of a crown of thorns in a cradle. I am not sure what it means.

The Bitchlogs, Volume 4

Last night I finished filling my 4th journal. I prefer to call it my bitchlog. The term stems from a conversation I had with Julie (who coined it?) when I told her I would write when I was angry or sad, but not much when I was happy.  That is where the blog tag comes from!

It leaves a skewed view.  And I only started writing them in 2000, a little before this blog, so it's weird to have this record from that point forward but not of the previous era, although of course some of the writing (as always) is about the past.

Not included in this tally of bitchlogs are:

1) The one we had to write in 7th grade in Mr. Greene's class.  I'd love to read that.

2) The four pages I wrote on a high school trip to Ireland in April 1999.  They start with an amazing burst of nonsense.  I would like to share this with you, reader:

Today is the 25th anniversary of ABBA winning the Eurovision Song Contest in 1974 with "Waterloo." Cows sit down when there's going to be a storm. We are all sitting, hence it might rain.  The people from NY thought Erica and Cia were lesbians.  EVAN IS THE BIGGEST NUB IN THE WORLD!
My favorite part, though, occurs further down the page. "And Andrea had Samoas!" ABBA, New York, lesbians, and Girl Scout cookies, all with no connecting thread between them.  My interests have not changed much over time.


Rappelle-toi Barbara

We read the poem "Barbara" by Jacques Prévert in either junior or senior year of high school, and these lines I love, love, love. I still remember the English even though I could not get the French right without looking it up:

Et ne m'en veux pas si je te tutoie
Je dis tu à tous ceux que j'aime
Meme si je ne les ai vus qu'une seule fois
Je dis tu à tous ceux qui s'aiment
Même si je ne les connais pas
This poem added the verb tutoyer to our vocabulary, which means to use the informal French pronoun "tu" instead of "vous." In other words, according to about.com, to "be on familiar terms" with someone.  I guess this makes it difficult to translate elegantly, but this would be a rather literal one:

And don't be angry if I use "tu" with you
I use "tu" with all those I love
Even if I've seen them only once
I use "tu" with all those who love each other
Even if I don't know them


Spiderman Revisited

God bless YouTube.


Snowy Sunday

What to do when the city is covered in snow?

1. Brunch.

2. Lifetime Original Movie The Craigslist Killer.




We are invited to the wedding mentioned in this article!


First Few Days

We sat watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother all day and decided to leave the house to go dancing.  No one was out because it was New Year's Day.  We drank vodka sodas and sat on the long booth between the 80s room and the room with house music. We talked about theme songs. I told you mine was "Miss You" by the Rolling Stones and sang the "hoo hoo OOO ooo ooo-oo-ooo." I said it wasn't really a theme song as much as the song you wanted playing when you walked into a room.  You thought yours could be Amerie's "1 Thing." You said you would want something playful and I said, "Stick with me, kid." You laughed genuinely.  I winked at you.

We talked about how we didn't have a song. I told you I hoped the DJ would play "Crazy in Love" so I could bust out the Wii moves I learned.  You said you thought about having that as your theme song, but that it was sort of your song with Ben.

We practiced winking at each other all night. We are both terrible at winking.

I told you I wanted you to teach me how to cook.  I told you about the New York Times article on happy marriages, about partners whose skills differ because they expand the other's knowledge and experiences, so if you taught me how to cook, we would both be happy. But then you asked me what I could teach you, and I could think of nothing.  I said I could teach you that it's okay to be embarrassed; I could teach you jokes; I could teach you how to write in journals; I couldn't teach you anything! You said the first one was enough, and it would take a lifetime.

You asked me what I had planned for the night. I said I was thinking about updating le blog, you made fun of me, and I joked that you hated it, but you said it was cute.  "I always imagine you're writing about me."



Funny Valentine

(I like slow dancing with my friends. In November, I slow danced in D.C., in September I slow danced in San Fran, and I try to get the bf to dance in the kitchen about once a week.) I danced with Imme.  Frank Sinatra sang "My Funny Valentine." Dad stood by the stove, and Mom sat at the table.

Frank sang, "Is your figure less than Greek?"

Dad laughed.

Frank sang, "When you open it to speak, are you smart?"

Dad told Mom, "Yes, that's true."

These two fought all week in the Battle of the Tights and the Battle of the Swarovski Ornaments and the Battle of the Italian Cheesecake and the two-day Siege of the Stuffed Mushrooms. But they also laughed about the Fur Vest, Turkey Neck, the Naked Wii Tennis story, and Christmas parties past.


New Year

Happy 2011! I've been mulling over resolutions but have been lacking direction. Hannah, who has organized the annual themes for the past few years, is traveling.  I've been thinking of trying the monthly resolution thing that she did a few years ago--having different resolutions each month instead of having all my January goals crash and burn by February. Some goals are about experimenting with things for a month in an effort to change behavior, and a few are some errands that I never seem to get around to.  The list I wrote includes increasing my savings, getting back into running, writing everyday, requesting a credit report, updating passwords, no takeout, Facebook moratorium, practicing French, taking a skiing lesson, going to church (?), and a few other things.  I don't know which resolution will go with which month yet, except that the no takeout will be February because it's the shortest month.  This list is not as exciting as 2010, but I'll try to let you know how it goes.  By the way, I never got more than three in 2010. Life's sadness.