That's How I Knew This Playlist Would Break My Heart, pt.2

I'm going to see Aimee Mann live next Friday. The new album won't be streaming after Tuesday, when it's released into stores. Check it out while you can and then go buy multiple copies to give to friends.

OK, onto the latest playlist:

...on a barstool
Corcovado, Antonio Carlos Jobim
The Girl From Ipanema, Frank Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim
Besame Mucho, Cesaria Evora
La Valse De L'Amour, Edith Piaf
Hymn To Love, Cyndi Lauper
My Funny Valentine, Chet Baker
For All We Know, Billie Holiday
Fools Rush In, It's Only A Paper Moon, Nat "King" Cole
Can't We Be Friends?, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong
Fever, Peggy Lee
The Man That Got Away, Judy Garland
I Wish I Were In Love Again, Joni Mitchell
Blame It On My Youth, Jamie Cullum
The Best Is Yet To Come, Chaka Khan
I Wanna Be Around, Tony Bennett
Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye, Annie Lennox
Conversation On A Barstool, Annie Ross
Someday My Prince Will Come, Miles Davis

More glimpses forthcoming...

Coming Out. UPDATED

"You came out for a reason. That's all I'm saying." - words spoken by my most trusted friend. They rang so true I've been hearing them for a week. After all, if I can be truthful about something which guarantees me discrimination and exclusion from some circles, what else could I ever reveal that would actually scare off anyone else? A strong case for honesty if I've ever heard one. So here's step one: I'm going back to the start.

Coming out is not a one-time thing; it's an evolutionary process. Some are big and some are small. This is the first in an ongoing series recounting some the most memorable "outings" of my life. (The names will be changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.)

This post was updated at the request of that particular trusted friend. I hope the level of detail is satisfactory now. He was right - I wasn't quite finished with it yet.

The first coming out that I can remember was on a playground. I couldn't have been more than six. Matthew was my best friend in the whole, small world of first grade. We first kissed profusely behind a big tree at the corner of our schoolyard. Oddly, it just kind of happened - it wasn't a big deal. I don't remember feeling weird or ashamed of it at all, although we did make sure to hide whenever we kissed. But when you're not alone in it, you don't feel so odd.

Our moms frequently arranged overnight playdates, and we always shared a bed - not uncommon for little boys (unless Michael Jackson's doing the sharing!). We always kissed goodnight as soon as the lights went out. We also had this odd habit - started by moi of course - of kissing as we turned the pages of whatever storybook we were reading. (Insert required Fairy Tale joke here.) And usually held hands as we fell asleep. The thing about what we did was, it was the most innocent realization of sexuality I can imagine. We never played doctor - it never even occurred to us. We just kissed and held hands. We opened our mouths a few times because we saw people on TV do it. But we didn't know what came next. I wouldn't learn the trick about tongues until I was 15. (And that's whole 'nother post.)

I left the school we attended in second grade and we lost touch, predictably. The Best Friend thinks I was robbed of that potential perfect boyfriend - "the One." I'm not sure - for all I know, Matthew is happily married with children. He may not even remember me. But I certainly remember Matthew fondly. I can't lie - I kind of hope that one day, we'll bump into each other in a grocery store and some bizarre, gay Julia Roberts movie will start. But I'm happy with the memory nonetheless.

So, Matthew - thank you. *kiss*

This post was sponsored by the Coming Clean Committee.

FYI

In case you hadn't noticed, BF is labeling his posts of late Fashion Week Edition. You haven't time-warped into September just yet. He just felt like calling a Fashion Week. And why not? It's a helluva a lot better than a Fat Day.

Funniest headline you'll read this year:

Say Goodnight, Greasy.

(Title rendered with apologies to the late, great, and reunited Burns & Allen)

Fast food and I parted ways gradually. It wasn't like I set out to stop eating overpriced made-to-order frozen burgers. It's true that after one too many viewings of Super Size Me I declared that I would never eat at McDonald's again. But I haven't eaten McDonald's "food" in at least six months. And it had been at least six months before that time. And I got sick both of those times. It's safe to say I'd de-SuperSized myself some time ago. But that didn't stop me from a weekend benders of Jack In The Box, Carl's Jr, Taco Bell, Wendy's, Popeye's... you get the picture. I was a junkie. During the workweek, I was fine - Subway was as fast as my food traveled. But the weekends were a solid six meals of badness. At a certain point, it became obvious: all of that food was going somewhere and so was all of that money. And what I really wanted to keep was the money, but the food was quickly becoming my body's permanent houseguest.

So in January, I joined a gym and I started watching more closely a diet that hadn't so much spun out of control as it had mutated into a quiet addiction. The thing is, I actually like healthy food. Tofu, whole wheat bread and vegetables don't gross me out; they entice me. I have a major love of sushi. So to waste my time with food I didn't love, but had simply grown accustomed to just didn't make any sense anymore.

So one by one, more of my bad habits fell by the wayside. Taco Bell (aka "crack disguised as fake Mexican food") was replaced with El Pollo Loco. The long-gone McDonald's, my beloved Jack-in-the- Box, and Carl's " I think I'll miss you most of all" Jr. were replaced with the very occasional In-N-Out burger. (I long ago kicked my family's sick addiction to carbonated soda. I've even identified it as the cause of my persistant teenage twnetysomething acne.) I didn't really miss any of it. The sushi runs were infinitely tastier. Buying my veggies every week at the store was far cheaper. Between the diet changes and the regular workouts, I saw major changes to my body and my attitude. I'm still working toward my goal, but the metamorphosis in barely four months has been amazing. By my birthday I should be H-O-T. Which is good, because I'm going on a long vacation the day after.

So what's the point, you ask? I probably couldn't have told you at the start of this post; I certainly couldn't have told you at the start of my "health reorganization process" (which is so much more accurate and healthy than the word "diet"). But I can now. You see, last year, I didn't cut bad habits, but, with help of an amazing support system, I cut out bad people. And I can now see how my battle with fast food mirrors my battle with "fast friends" - those empty emotional calories who take time and space away from the good stuff. I like being happy and I love the company I keep. In less than four months, I got it about the food. It took nearly a year for me to get it about the people. But flowers bloom when they're ready. Here I am.

Goodnight, Greasy.

J.

This post was sponsored by the Fresh Food, Fresh Friends Committee.

That's How I Knew This Playlist Would Break My Heart, pt.1

I'm Sunday blogging!

In anticipation of the new Aimee Mann's upcoming album, The Forgotten Arm, I've been getting reaquainted with her last studio disc, Lost In Space. I don't think I truly appreciated it until very recently, especially the brilliantly bleak "Invisible Ink." I highly recommend any and all of Ms. Mann's music, including the new disc, which is currently streaming in it's entirety on her website.

******

Now for that first playlist in the series I promised:

Western Heroes
1. American Tune, Willie Nelson
2. The Pearl, Emmylou Harris
3. Wouldn't That Be Fine, Nanci Griffith
4. Do I Ever Cross Your Mind, Chet Atkins & Dolly Parton
5. Somebody's Crying, Chris Isaak
6. One More Dollar, Gillian Welch
7. Icy Blue Heart, John Hiatt
8. Those Three Days, Lucinda Williams
9. If I Had A Boat, Lyle Lovett
10. Why Can't He Be You, Patsy Cline
11. Come Away With Me, Norah Jones
12. Moses, Patty Griffin
13. If I Were A Man, Rosanne Cash
14. Country Trash, Johnny Cash
15. Oh My Sweet Carolina, Ryan Adams
16. Someday, Steve Earle
17. Wild Horses, The Rolling Stones
18. Western Hero, Neil Young
19. Rodeo (Aaron Copland), Movement IV: Hoe Down, Micheal Tilson Thomas w/ the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra

More musical snapshots into my twisted psyche are forthcoming ...

This post was sponsored by the Music Whore Committee.

Barbarella & the Beast

Check out what happened to Jane Fonda today. See? Liberals aren't the only ones capable of random acts of public stupidity. Just because she's "Hanoi Jane" doesn't make it OK, no matter what your feelings are. (For more true/false clarification on Fonda's Vietnam activites - and apologies, natch! - see the always excellent Snopes.)

As I said here and here and referenced here, this kind of behavior is unacceptable, no matter who perpetuates it and who the victim is. And before I start seeing people rant about how the MSM (mainstream media, for the uninitiated) is covering this more than it did Ann Coulter's pie, let's be real here: if you go up to ten people on the street, which name or picture do you think they'd be more apt to recognize?

Net Disaster, people, it's all about Net Disaster!

-J

UPDATE: Michelle and I are apparently on the same wavelength. Wow.

This post was sponsored by the Poltical Foosball Committee.

On The Town...

Going to ramble tonight. Since almost nobody's reading, I'm sure nobody minds...

On the way home from the gym tonight, I stopped by the grocery store. As I was standing in line, I realized that although I don't really live in L.A., this could not have been a more El-Lay Express Lane. I had my required eating on board: green apples, a jug of protein drink, Clif bars and other assorted health food. The lady in front of me, who was obviously an agent, talking to a client on her headset non-stop while shopping, continued to wheel and deal while her trail mix and Green Machine were being checked out. The guy in front of her looks like he just finished his final Tour de France and is buying lots of water and Powerbars. And of course at the very front of our line is a genuine soap stud. I didn't notice what he was buying - I was too busy trying to catch the reaction of everyone who recognize, including the cashier. It's apparently shocking that a working actor might be mixed in among us mortals, buying food no less!

On the bus ride home, I got to hear the driver talk about how he used to work security for the studios. He was very fond of James Garner and not so fond of Kenny Rogers. And Jack Nicholson - get this! - is quite the prankster. One of these days, I am actually going to ride until the end of the line, notebook in hand, just to see how much I can record that you would never believe was actually said.

*****

I personally think that crushes bite - especially as you approach *shudder* 28. I'm trying to adapt to a particularly shitty day week at work and all I can think about is...well you get the picture. Sometimes feeling sixteen is a great thing. Other days? Not so much.

*****

I've got an ongoing project - a few friends and I are planning on making compilation CDs we think encapsulate ourselves. But I can't narrow it down from 84 songs. I checked the length of the playlist - it's 5.4 hours. I'm thinking I might be able to make it so I give a different CD to each important person in my life. I'm an extreme Gemini, so it actually makes a lot of sense. Also, I'll be able to format to each person's tastes in addition to the persona of mine they're most familiar with. I'll be posting some of the tracklists I'm thinking of in the coming posts, so feel free to offer ideas on how I should order things, etc.

*****

I guess that's it for tonight. Now playing: Those Three Days, by the great Lucinda Williams. Favorite lyric: "You managed to crawl inside my brain/You found a hole and in you came." I think we've all been there.

-J

This post was sponsored by the Insomnia Makes For Great Blogging Committee.

Monday morning coming down...

Sorry about lying about the Weekendblog. Too much happened unexpectedly - I'll let the Best Friend fill you in (no matter how embarassing the level of detail he chooses). In the meantime, I'm going to share a piece (I don't feel like the word "poem" ever fits just right) I wrote last night. I don't share this kind of stuff with almost anybody, but I really need to just fucking get over it. So here it is - warts and all.

face up on my upside-down mattress
wishing you were kissing me for real
stupid love song in my head
i'm alone, yet i'm embarrassed
like anyone would care
if they could hear us
in these quiet moments
alone with our ceilings

the burn on my neck is quite as skin deep
as i've let you get to my underneath
if it's important to me
why can't i say it out loud?
what's the worst "no" could do?
would i shatter into pieces -
am i really that weak?
i must think that i am

face up on my right-side-down mattress
thnking about kissing you again
stupid words spinning out of my head
i feel like someone's here with me
like anyone would care
if they could see us
in these quiet moments
naked with our feelings

This post was sponsored by the Turning Red Committee.

Hey, does anyone here remember me...?

So, I'm the guy who used to run this blog. Now I'm sort of an editor-in-chief who's been upstaged by a new, glamourous, and (I can hardly say it) younger columnist. I feel like Kim Cattrall in a way! In any event, happy Tax Day all to my fellow Americans! In any effort to keep today's post non-taxing (groan), I'm going to direct you around the Blogosphere to some of my favorite sites and blogs - most of whom are fellow members of the Online Gay Mafia. Enjoy!

• Jason is camping this weekend, so no updates to The Room until Monday. Still, if you haven't read him yet or recently, I'd recommend digging through the last few posts. They'll break your heart but you'll be all the better for it.
• BoiFromTroy is always a great read, especially if you're an Angeleno. He is officially my favorite Log Cabin Republican - besides Abe Lincoln, of course.
• Tottyland is an across-the-Atlantic hoot. It's mostly links to pictures of hot guys and is not to be confused with this place.
• It's not as heavily populated as it once was (since Buffy & Angel went off the air), but I'd still like to give a shout out to the white room. If you're into Lost, so are we - drop in and post!
• If you're into left-leaning politicoblogging you could do much much worse than to visit Majikthise. Sharp tongued and sharp witted.

Not much beyond that for today. I'll be back for some weekend blogging tomorrow!

-J

This post was sponsored by the Too Lazy To Really Write Committee.

I promise - last one this week...

Our old friend Michelle is ringing the victory bells now that Kill Bush products are no longer for sale at CafePress. I'm sure she lost sleep over that one. I guess this means she'll get around to condemning these encouraging shirts ASAP.

And then these. After all, pro-violence and pro-child abuse have to rank only slightly below pro-assassination, right?

Right.

-J

p.s. Michelle: The reason you don't see much anti-Kerry stuff on CafePress is that it is now April and the election was in November. Remember that whole Red America thing? It's over - you won that one. Get over it.

This post was sponsored by the overworked Malkin Watch Committee.

Swingin' in the rain...

Ever notice that music is everywhere you go? No matter what, you cannot avoid it. It might blare out of a car window while you're on the freeway. It might be in the background of your favorite film. It might just be that collection of over 1000 cds you're struggling to squeeze into your tiny room. (OK - that last one might just be me!)

Or it might be the guy at your gym who's singing loudly as if he were in a private shower at home. He's not of course. He's not even in one of the private stalls. He's in the communal shower room. And he's not very good. But he's cute. He has a great ass. (Of course I looked.) And he only started singing right after he noticed an audience - the very 'mo who is typing this entry. He shot me the look - the one all Moes give one another to ID ourselves covertly. And his song selection? "One More Try" by George Michael. Complete with an attempt at "touch yooooou..." in full-on falsetto.

It wasn't until I was halfway home that I realized he might have been trying to tell me something with that song choice. It all flashed by so quickly. Well, it didn't all flash by, just the aforementioned back forty, but I digress... I never considered that he was cruising. In any event, sometimes I wish I had a camera crew following me around. My life itself may be pretty boring, but what goes on in this world every day is worth saving.

And I've saved this moment. Here's hoping you enjoyed reading it.

-J.

p.s. - based on today's post over in Jason's Room, it looks like Jason might enjoy my gym! Jason's blog is highly recommended by the way - he's really funny and a much better writer than he gives himself credit for. Check it out.

This post was sponsored by the Too Much Information Committee.

M. MALKIN: LIBERALS ADVOCATE KILLING

(That headline/link is a gross generalization. Just making a point.)

Hi, Michelle. I found some examples. See also here for more info on some of the more heinous stuff. The difference as I see it? The RightWingStuff merch encourages violence against liberals in general. The Christopher Goodwin stuff specifically encourages DeLay to drop dead. And the Kill Bush shirt pretty much speaks for itself. (You're a little late to the party in condemning that one, by the way. A (gasp!) liberal got there first!) None of that makes all conservatives "pro-assasination," right?

Bottom line: It's all disgusting - and no matter who any idiot advocates violence against, it should be condemned.

On a related note: pre-supposing the responses of wingnuts and posting them as if you've already received the responses is irresponsible. And labeling a whole group of people as being "pro-assassination" based on t-shirts is the very definition of "unhinged."

What needs to be assasinated here is irresponsible journalism.

This post was sponsored by the MalkinWatch Committee.

Light blogging today.

On account of my being majroly sunburned 'n' stuff. My neck is so red and hurty that even I can't muster a cliched redneck joke.

Ebay and Adult Swim are today's winners in the "How Can I Waste My Time and Still Feel Like I Did Something?" awards. The guys and gals responsible for these addictions will receive no prizes other than ratings and my hard-earned cash - providing they run the right episodes of Futurama & the Venture Bros. and that I can find some affordable Super Powers & Secret Wars figures to add to my superhero display closet. If anyone knows of some good deals on those, pass along the word. I'll be much obliged.

Briefly: why am I sunburned, my three readers ask? Because I forgot to apply sunblock while out at the Rose Bowl Flea Market this weekend. It was a great day for cheap finds - the Best Friend found Dutch wooden shoes for $10! - but once the burn set in, my world was pain and nothing but. Hopefully tomorrow the redness will have gone down and I'll be able to take a shower above -150 degrees Celsius. Then I'll blog some decent observations I've got stewing.

Until then, I'm J.

This post was sponsored by the Useless Information Committee.

Last night's post is Lost In Space...

...or wherever old socks go when they disappear in the dryer.

The ether ate last night's brilliantly worded post about why Michelle Malkin is not a cunt, but she is awfully sensitive. If you're going to blog so prolifically, passionately and controversially, you should really develop thicker skin. I'll admit it: Liberals used to corner the market on the oppressed victim defense. But now it seems that everyone and anyone makes good use of the third grade staple "(S)he started it!" to preface their hypocritical attack on "the other side." Wake up, Auntie Coulter - you and Uncle Franken are bedfellows whether you like it or not.

That being said, self-avowed liberals should still refrain from childish name calling or hurling pies at people speaking there opinion. Yes, it happened again. And charges will be reportedly pressed this time. And no - that's not the David Horowitz of Fight Back! fame. It's this guy. No - I don't like what he has to say. But I wouldn't assault him for it. And neither should you.

-J

This post was sponsored by the Political Foosball Committee.

Seen & heard...

Witnessed on Los Angeles' public transportation system (believe it or not, we have one) in the last few weeks:

• A driver singing "All Along the Watchtower" without any accompaniment but the music in his head.
• Another driver singing "Loving You" (all at once now: is easy cause you're beautiful...) while it played on the radio - she tried to hit the E above High C. Doo doo doo doooooo. Ow.
• Still a different driver berating a woman in a wheelchair for letting other people on ahead of her. Apparently, he needs to lower the ramp first to ensure he doesn't pass her by and get a bad report. He got one anyway. I called in and ratted him out for yelling at a lady in a fucking wheelchair.
• A boy of maybe 16 very obviously looking to hustle. He appeared to be coming down off of something.
• Several people getting on to the bus with newly-bought televisions in tow.
• Random snippets of people's life stories. If I had the time, I would ride until the end of the line and back again just to eavesdrop. It's amazing what people will tell complete strangers when you considering how much we keep from those closest to us. One fellow claimed to have won the lottery only to lose it all to a greedy ex-wife. He fessed up to the fact that he owed hundreds of thousands in back child support but was sure the Lord would get him some more winnings soon. He hitchhiked from New York to L.A. - it apparently took a month.

This post was sponsored by the L.A. Observatory Committee.

FLASHBACK!

When I was a kid, I was spoiled rotten. I had more action figures than anybody I knew. Despite my status as a bona fide sissy, I was really into the Masters of the Universe and G.I. Joe toys. My big passion has been and still is superheroes. (All things Superman make me happy, if you're looking for a birthday gift sometime.)

One of the more unique toys I hadwas a Lion-O figure from the Thundercats line. His eyes lit up if you pressed into his back with this weird battery powered accessory - it looked like a little rocket, a futuristic lipstick, and a little like a sexual pleasure device. (It did require a battery, after all!) I lost that bit, as kids are wont to do and couldn't light up Lion-O's eyes anymore. Couldn't, that is, until one day he was sitting too close to the microwave and I noticed them eyes flicker a little. Being the ingenious brat I was, I figured his eyes would work even better in the microwave. So for a few weeks, whenever my parents weren't looking or were out of the house, I would sneak him into the kitchen, turn off the lights and chant "Thunder, thunder, THUNDERCATS! HO!"

And then one day, I took it too far.

Normally, Lion-O's stay in the micro lasted only a few seconds - ten at the most. But on this day, I got greedy, as kids are wont to do. I hit 00:30 on the pad and at about the 15 second mark...

LION-O's HEAD FUCKING EXPLODED AND CAUGHT ON FIRE!

Panicked, I disposed of the body after rinsing of his charred head in the sink, but my parent's car pulled into the driveway just as I began cleaning out the now pitch black insides of the unharmed appliance. I tried to explain it away by saying the chili I was reheating had exploded (this happened quite frequently, actually) but they weren't buying. The smell of burnt plastic probably gave me away before the visual. Also, I should have disposed on the body in the outside trash can. I wasn't as ingenious as I thought, I guess.

By the end of my spanking, I was wishing my head had exploded and caught on fire.

-J

This post was sponsored by The Nostalgia Committee.

Monday, Monday...

Blogger.com's posting capabilities have been down most of the day - at least they were whenever I went and tried it. Better late than three month's late, right??

I watched my first (and sadly, probably not my last) episode of Nanny 911 tonight. I think they should just called it Please, British Lady - Raise My Kids! Again, gay people shouldn't be married because...?

The Pope died this weekend. The way the networks were holding vigil you might think they'd be disappointed if he'd pulled through. Seriously, the guy lived 84 and made as much an impact as possible with his time. Did we really need to know he had a UTI in his last days? Oh and they don't call them the "Last Rites" anymore. They've called the sacrament "Anointing of the Sick" for longer than I've been alive. Nobody in these newsrooms ever heard of Vatican II?

Weird fact: I was in a sushi bar when CNN announced JPII's passing. (That's not the weird part, BTW.) They play all sorts of fluffy Japanese pop tunes in this place, with a few American pop oddities sprinkled in. As we were watching the broadcast bonanza begin, "I Will Follow Him" - the version straight out of Sister Act began to play. No joke. Proof God has a wicked sense of humor? I think so.

This just in...

Dear fellow "Liberals,"*

For the love of all things holy, don't throw food at people for their opinions. (See also: here and here.)

Free speech means everyone is entitled to their opinions, however misguided you may find them. Your right to free speech enables you to speak out and have a dissenting opinion. It doesn't give you the right to assault someone, with your fists or a pie, for cryin' out loud!

You make the rest of us look bad. Moreover, you make martyrs out of people you apparently think are demon-spawn. They get the chance to walk away, gracious and with good humor intact, usually. Meanwhile, you look like the left-wingnut you are. You give Michelle Malkin good reason to pen entries like this - I can't blame her for that. She responded in the proper fashion - putting her opinions (aka "using your words). Since you folks apparently can't string together a sentence, you throw stuff. Newsflash: Tantrums aren't cute on children - on adults they're downright disgusting.

So what's my problem here? Because of our supposedly shared views, I'm guilty by association. And I don't appreciate being lumped in with idiots. Grow up or go home.

-J.

*I really hate political and ideological labels, but this one was called for.