April 2007

Rubbing It In

My day was planned with ever important errands all over town: buying clothes, checking out art galleries, going to new book stores, etc. In the end, I just napped most of the day. These days off are becoming quite the chore.

Sharp Spiral

Heavenly

Dear Nice Tech Support Lady,

Thanks for the blissful hour and a half chat this afternoon. Don't worry that we didn't resolve any of the four issues I brought to you. Who needs productivity or return for that lovely hourly rate when I can simply soak in your bubbling personality and charming wit? Hearing your voice was a delightful treat and I wouldn't have wanted to spend my afternoon any other way. And that overpriced, under-equipped abacus software you support? Gives me all kinds of warm fuzzies.

Eternally yours,
Damon

Lifelines

Nudie Pics

In spite of all the male nude photography I've been doing in the last year, I've really worked hard to legitimize my work by almost avoiding anything that could be construed as sexual (I did say "almost"). I'd hate to be accused of making porn after all, yet the definition of what is and isn't "porn" seems to be very subjective. While I've gotten some good shots that tend toward excitation, I've immediately discounted them as not being 'real art' because of how they might be perceived by a more conservative audience.

In spite of this bold life I'm living - much of which is in stark contrast to how I was raised - I still seem to feel the need to prove to those from that former life that the essence of who I am hasn't changed, that I haven't been corrupted into those very heathens at whom we used to point fingers. In truth, I am living a life that even I used to judge as wrong so perhaps part of me is trying to prove to myself that what I'm doing is as healthy and acceptable as I know in my head that it is. A sort of reconciling my present with my past. So I push forward into these new territories then pull myself back a few steps in an effort to appease both past and present.

But enough of my personal psychotherapy because, according to its title, this post is supposed to be about nudie pics. So, bring on the nudie pics!

There is going to be a gallery show which is specifically looking for erotic art which excites and tantalizes. So it's caused me to look at my art in a different way and choose things that will bring the reaction "that's hot" as opposed to "gee that's a nice composition of the male anatomy which oddly looks completely and totally non-sexual and could never in my wildest dreams be construed as that nasty pornography so many gay boys go for these days."

Cave Man

Triplets

Um, this whole regular three day weekend thing? Yeah. It kicks ass. Tomorrow I have a schedule choke full of goofing off and doing whatever the hell I please. It'll be rough, but somehow I'll make it through.

Google Tells All

I'm sitting at work, where they track computer usage to make sure you're not making bombs or ogling boobies on the clock. I had this crazy notion to see if Fredina did indeed have a website so I punched in a Google search for "pygmy transsexual yodeling dominatrix" when suddenly I realized that the IT guys at work might be able to see what I'm searching for. As evidence to the depth of my depravity, imagining them trying to make sense of that search amused me to no end. By the way, Fredina apparently is too cool for the web. While another Fredina does have a myspace, *my* Fredina continues to exist only in the circus world (and in my warped little blog).

Where's the Gun to the Head Module?

There's this financial software we use at work: Microsoft Great Plains. And by "use" I mean we kick and scream until we finally accept the fact that it's not going to do what we want without elaborate blood offerings and white-out induced spirit quests. The thing about the software is that in addition to being proudly anti-user-friendly the creators have chosen to hack the program in many useless bits which can almost, nearly function independently. They then turn around and charge large sums of money for each hacked off piece and make reassembling this puzzle so complex that it requires highly paid professionals, a lucky rabbit's foot and the proper lunar alignment to make it work.

To actually track accounts payable (a crazy notion, I know) we had to buy a additional "module." To track spending by project code: new module. To be able to modify a vendor's ID: new module. To combine vendor records: new module. To enter purchase orders to match the newly purchased accounts payable module: new module. To pick your nose while running reports: new module.

I think the core $10,000 software package is something akin to a digitized abacus.

Part of the Process

Yesterday I spent 5 hours processing photos from last weekend's shoot. 5 hours correcting lighting, color balance, cropping, and making black and white versions. I have 65 great photos to show for my work, but me thinks I need to learn how to attend to these things subtleties *in* the camera, cuz I soooo didn't get paid enough to put in that many hours. What? Oh, yeah, I almost forgot to mention: this was my first paid photoshoot. Yay me.

My Purifier Needs a Makeover

So, is it possible that the crackling, sparking, flash of light thing that my new air purifier is doing is just an indication that it doubles as a bug zapper? Or perhaps it has aspirations to be a strobe light? Cuz, it certainly can't be that this $500 over sized eye-sore is defective, right? And next time I buy what Consumer Reports says is the best model out there, I'm going to ask that they factor a queer eye vote in the stats. This thing is so ugly it makes the rest of my appliances weep in pity.

Fredina

I don't intentionally create situations to freak my family out. Really and truly I don't. Yet I'm sure it seems that I'm on some quest to trump my last freaky venture just to test my family's love and tolerance (which has proven amazingly strong thus far).

I've always done the artistic, metro-sexual and "stick me with needles cuz that's the best way to healthy living" thing which already makes the family's "ain't that special" radar buzz and hum. I got a divorce going against the strict morals of my upbringing. Then I gleefully declared my membership to the Clan of the Gay and moved thousands of miles away to pursue a relationship with another member of that same clan. Now I'm dating not one, but two men in some outrageous triadic concoction of freaky bliss. Through it all, my family has done a wonderful job of just shrugging their shoulders and loving me anyway.

My sister is loving how much I'm aggressively charging through family norms because she says that in comparison to me she can do no wrong. Glad I could help ya out sis.

For my next feat I think I'll open up a body piercing studio with Fredina, the pygmy transsexual yodeling dominatrix who I met at that circus side show in Berkeley. Hi Fredina. Hope you're doing well.

Birthday Follow Up

The birthday weekend of celebratory bliss turned out, well, blissful. The "pathetically white rap duo" sure does know how to celebrate. We rented a house in Sea Ranch with tons of windows revealing the ocean and the amazing weather we had for the weekend. We perused an amazing photography gallery, visited with a resident artist, walked on the beach, took photos, took naps, soaked in the hot tub, watched movies and had ourselves a relaxing time. My gymnastic vault into bed was a big hit as were Michael's Freudian slips during my birthday dinner out. The weekend also involved alfredo sauce, tattoo pens, crazy cat ladies, Nutella, candy covered red peppers, and a lizard that turns red in the sun (no, not *that* kind of lizard). All-in-all, the weekend was great. You should be jealous.