Mangia Mangia

I have recently taken to teaching myself to cook. I know it seems ridiculous that a 35 year old man only has rudimentary at best cooking skills, but I offer this in my defense. I am Italian and thereby having a Italian mom and sister who are both incredible cooks, Couple that with two of my close friends being chefs, Why would I need to learn?

I suppose it all started with Sundays. On Sundays my sister, her husband and my best friend come over and we spend the day together. Sometimes this means lying around all day, sometimes it means shopping, in nice weather it means lying by the pool all day. Those are my favorite days. Either way it always ends up with us cooking. We almost always make a meal together. As I watch them and assist them in their cooking endeavors, I am learning quite a bit.

I also have my man around, which helps as I have found that most bachelors such as myself do not cook. Why go through the hassle of messing up the kitchen to make a single meal you’re going to eat alone and most likely on the couch anyway? Although I admit leftovers do make a very convenient lunch/dinner the next day.

So I am learning how to cook. Nothing super difficult nothing too crazy, just simple “square meals” that are both healthy and delicious. Well maybe not so healthy, but delicious.

I find I like not only the action of cooking , the chopping ,stirring, tossing of it all, but also the meaning that lies behind it. I find it very masculine and sexy. Perhaps it is some archaic image of the hunter gatherer idea I have in my head about providing for those you care about. Perhaps its my Italian upbringing that influenced my ideas on sharing a meal as a way of a family, both birth and chosen coming together to fill their belly as well as their souls.

Call it what you want but in a world which often turns to fast for my liking sharing a home cooked meal and a cup of tea with my loved ones is about as close to perfection as I can imagine.

All that you can be?

This afternoon was slow at work, so I decided to head upstairs and make a quick round to visit the boys at the tattoo shop. There was a young guy sitting up there getting tattoo of an american flag. He sat there getting it done while his two of his friends watched.

ME: "So are you in the military?"

SB1: "Joining the army, so is my friend..."

SB2: "Signing our papers tomorrow, we're hoping to be paratroopers."

ME: "Jump out of planes, blow shit up, that kinda stuff?"


I should have kept my mouth shut...


SB2: "Yeah, and kill towelheads."


ME: "Really..."


I had to leave the room, I was speechless, and it takes alot to shut me up...


I honestly can't believe people actually think that way, let alone speak that way. I know I live in a fairly sheltered protective bubble of super liberal open minded human beings, but I just can't believe some barely nineteen year old boy who just joined the largest mass funded government killing machine on the planet had the nerve to look me in the eyes proudly and say that. It was like the universe bitch slapped me.

It made me sad for the future of humanity. This kid wasn't born thinking that way, someone told him that. Someone taught him that.

And at barely nineteen years old he believed it.

Everyday is like Sunday.

Yesterday I went to a Zine and Craft fair, well two craft fairs actually. The first was at the flying squirrel community center (great name), and was loaded with all sorts of really cool stuff. It seemed to be staffed and populated by a bunch squatter punk hippie types. A little grimy, but charming none the less. I wish I had a little more time to check everything out, but the crafts had everything from sewn misfit crimson ghost pillows to spray painted patches with the anarchy symbol and resistance fist, and some really fun pasties on a table next to multi colored hippopotamus candles. Gotta love counter culture!

There was also a ton of killer zines covering everything from activism, to gender issues, to loving your body and informed consent. Ruth made a great one about autism awareness, and im thanked in the intro...I picked up several colorful issues including one called "Militant Queer Insurrection" I haven't read any of them yet, but buying them brought back so many memorys of being young and chain smoking and making and reading zines while listening to Bikini Kill, L7, Consolidated and a whole slew of other polictical bands. For a minute on got drunk on early 90's nostalgia. It reminded me of my days of being young and ornery and fiercely individualistic.

Im glad I managed to hang onto most of that as the years have passed....




Afterwards Jeff and I went to meet some friends and have a glass of Yerba Mate at a local coffee shop that was having their own craft sale. This was a little more fancy. Lots of knit items, some jewelry and bowls made out of warped 12" records. Imagine about 20 Etsy vendors and you will get the idea. I picked up some really nice hand made cards for valentines day which unfortunately didn't photograph well. They are really nice none the less. I ran into so many friends, collected so many smiles and hugs. I was reminded how much love I have for the bohemian community I am blessed to be a part of.

It was a perfect day.

I Got It From My Mama.

I've said for years that it's my moms fault I'm queer.

My mother was a stay at home mom, setting aside her education to raise myself and my sister, and taking care of my grandmother who was dying of cancer. We became close at a young age and spent lots of time together shopping, watching soap operas, and cleaning the house.

My mother loved disco. In fact her and my father were avid disco dancers and spent many weekends Thanking god its Friday and burning up their Saturday night fever. My mother had a massive collection of disco records. Not just the usual K-Tel compilations everyone housewife had, but the full on 12" extended dance mixes with the (often instrumental) b sides. I remember my favorites:


Donna Summer - Macarthur Park

The Trammps - Disco Inferno

Chic - Dance Dance Dance (Yowza Yowza Yowza)

Santa Esmeralda - The House of the Rising Sun

Diana Ross - Upside Down

We listened to disco records all the time, joyously singing along with Labelle, Diana Ross, Chic, the Bee Gees, the Village People and Leo Sayer. My mother would practice her dance moves with me. At just the tender age of five I could do the Fox Trot, the bump (one of my favorites) and both the traditional and Latin hustles.

I can't be the only one noticing a campy pattern developing...

My favorite singer was the same as my mothers, The original Lady Di, Ms. Diana Ross.

We listened to her as my mother taught me how to clean the house, serenading each other with such classics as "It's my Turn", "All of my Love", and my personal childhood favorite "Theme from Mahogany (do you know where your going to?)" We took turn sharing solos passing our feather duster microphone back and forth and practicing our synchronized back up dancer moves. We often ended our supreme cleaning sessions with a heartfelt rendition of "Endless Love"

I never stood a chance at the straight life...

Years later my sister and I would dance and sing along to the Diana Ross & the Supremes Farewell album (the 20 minute live version of "The Flesh Failures/Let the Sunshine In" was one of our favorites). She was even better at coming up with synchronized back up dancer moves than my mom was.

To this day I still love Diana Ross and think she's one of the most beautiful woman in the world (besides my mother & sister)


In a fitting twist of serendipity "Endless Love" is just ending my Diana Ross playlist.


Funny how I never got into "I'm Coming Out" until many years later...

(R)EVOLVE

If you are a woman, a person of color, if you are gay, lesbian,
bisexual, transgendered, if you are a person of size, a person of
intelligence, a person of integrity, than you are considered a
minority in this world.

And its going to be really hard to find messages of self love and
support anywhere. Its all about how you have to look a certain way or
else you are worthless.

You know when you look in the mirror and you think "Oh I'm so fat, I'm so old, I'm so ugly"? Don't you know that is not your authentic self? That is billions upon billions of dollars of advertising, magazines, movies, billboards, all geared to make you feel shitty about yourself so that you will go take your hard earned money on some
turn around cream that doesn't turn around shit.

When you don't have self esteem, you will hestitate before you do anything in your life. You will hestitate to go for the job that you really want to go for. You will hesitate to ask for a raise. You will hesitate to call yourself an American. You will hesitate to report a rape. You will hesitate to defend yourself when you are discriminated against because of your race, your sexuality, your size, your gender.
You will hesitate to vote, you will hesitate to dream.

FOR US TO HAVE SELF ESTEEM IS TRULY AN ACT OF REVOLUTION.
and our revolution is long overdue.

I urge you all today, especially today in these times of terrorism and chaos to love yourselves without reservation, and to love each other without restraint. - Margaret Cho

Spin the Wheel.

I had my first HIV test in several years last week.

The seminal rite of passage for "Generation X".

It started with a dream. Nope strike that. It started with a boy. The good thing and bad thing about new relationships is they tend to bring up feelings and issues from old relationships. My last relationship went on about 7 years-ish off and on, We broke up after my lack of compassion and forgiveness in regards to him cheating on me...again. Silly me to ignore the obvious, the word "mono" in monogamy means one. As in one person is monogamous.

Bitter party of one your table is ready...

So after a few years of therapy in the form of spinning deep house music, friends lending sympathetic ears and moderate binge drinking, I manage to meet a new guy, an incredible new guy, but that story comes later...

A few weeks into our relationship he walks from my shop to the local clinic to get his HIV test. After an hour of nervous freaking out on my part, he comes back with a smile. He's negative. Great! Awesome! Hooray!

FUCK!

Now its my turn. Confront the past, get closure, and move on with my life. I put it off for another week or so and one Tuesday morning I woke up from a dream. All I remember is I was talking to a priest, or something like a priest in a church. Or something like a church. The church was all shades of gold and accented with gilt. or guilt. Probably both. The priest was in a gold frock with a tapestry of ornate gold embroidery around his neck, we were sitting on the pew having a conversation, although I don't remember ever hearing him speak. I figured in some weird "the universe is unfolding exactly as it should" way, me talking to the priest was a symbol for me to go ahead and take the test. I mean if your freaking out about the possibility of dying from a deadly disease I would hope a discussion with a priest or reasonable facsimile thereof would help, right? So I decided to google the testing hours from the clinic a short walk from my shop, the one that Jeff went to. I thought to myself "If they test today before you have to be at work, your going to do it." I looked at the hours and as I discovered testing was offered Tuesday and Thursday from 9 a.m. until 7 p.m. The computer clock read 9:02

FUCK!

I immediately tried to stave off the panic attack that was rapidly ensuing. I decided a good old fashioned sing a long would get me through. Something upbeat and positive, like "wig in a box" from Hedwig. I put it on repeat, hopped in the shower and tried to stop my mind from racing. What if I came back positive? Was it really the end of the world? Would it really change everything? Hell yes it would. Would I immediately begin dying? Had I already begun dying? God this sucked. I parked in the lot at my store, and walked over to the clinic, stopping to pick up a cup of coffee on the way. (If I was going to plan my funeral this morning I needed caffeine.)I got buzzed in to the clinic and started to to fill out the paperwork. I sat down and waited. Out comes the person to administer the test, and it's one of my clients. A cool client. She took me back and explained to me how the cheek swab worked. (Its alot like a pregnancy test, except instead of peeing on it, you rub it on your gums, one line means your cool, two means you've got some explaining to do.) I swabbed my cheek, she set the timer for 20 minutes and proceed to ask me questions about my sexual history.

I opened my mouth and vomited every neurosis I ever had in regards to my sexual behavior and health all over her and the room. In hindsight I wish recorded it, I bet it was hysterical. I think it went a bit like this.

ME: [Fast forward past gay sex] "Is it cooked yet?"

TA: "8 minutes left."

ME: "Looking good?"

TA: "Looking good."

ME: (Fast forward past more gay sex) "Is it cooked yet?"

TA: "4 minutes left."

ME: "Looking good?"

TA: "Still good."

ME: (insert story of how I met Jeff here)

TA: "Its been 22 minutes and everything looks good." "Your negative."

[Cue Hallelujah chorus]

I took a picture of the test. I sent it to Jeff, my mom, my sister, my counter person, my best friend and coworker, and another couple of friends. (I have an awesome support system, what can I say? I am blessed.)

TA: "Is there anything else we can do for you?"

ME: "You can give me some condoms so I can go home and bang my boyfriend." (Classy, I know, but if you heard what I disclosed while waiting for my test results, you would think this to be mild. Its amazing how many boundaries and taboos you can break in 22 minutes.)

I headed back to the shop with a smile on my face and started my day. Over the next week or so I candidly discussed with several friends of all sexual preferences (or lack thereof) how they felt about getting the test. Every single one of them responded the same way. Every single one of them was terrified. Every single one. Straight, Gay, Queer, Undecided, all were terrified. That speaks volumes.. Everyone was convinced the minute they took the test, they were positive. Just like I did.

Would a positive response be the end of the world? Not really.

Would it make things difficult? Of course it would.

Do millions of people deal with it every day? Sure do.

Do I have to deal with it? Not anymore.
Not until next time.