Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Nesting, Not Blogging.

If anyone has wondered where I disappeared to -- I’m nesting. I moved in with C two weeks ago. We did a little painting, I bought a bunch of stuff for the kitchen (he didn’t, doesn’t, really cook, and I really do). We hung some art, made a little room in his dressers and closets for my clothes, cleaned out his office to make room for me to work.

I’ve neglected my blogs. I can’t blame it on my new love. That’s part of it, but the real culprit is my job. I hadn’t had a real job in years, and now I’m working on average 4 days a week at the prop house in Brooklyn. It’s a good job, pays well, nice people, flexible, and a guy has to make a living, etc. But it’s a lot of hours to be out of commission. I get up at 6 a.m. to punch in by 9, and when I get home at 6:30, I just want to cuddle on the couch with my honey, smoke some pot, and watch mindless TV. Is that really so bad?

I’ve never been one of those people who can work a full time job and come home and write a novel all night. I’m just not. I am a diligent, disciplined, and prolific artist, but it only happens when I don’t have to work for someone else to pay the rent.

So I’ve neglected my blogs. Here’s a list of things that have passed through my thoughts in the last few weeks, or that I’ve written down on post-its and stuck in my pockets, that I thought I might blog about, that I thought I might have something interesting to say about:

Jacob Lusk, one of the finalists on American Idol. One part sweet, gregarious teenager, one part big black drag queen. He sings like Aretha Franklin crossed with Teddy Pendergrass. I have no idea if he identifies himself as gay, but he is so queer. He amazes and moves me to tears every week.

CMA Awards. Maybe not the worst TV ever, but close. A not-awful performance by Brad Paisley, then a numbingly stupid fag joke by Reba’s unmemorable (except for the fag joke) co-host followed by a sickening (in the good way) Steven Tyler/Carrie Underwood duet on “Walk This Way.” The homophobic joke was maddening. I keep hearing how homosexuality is not a big deal any more, so why is it that a fag joke, no matter how idiotic, is still the easiest way to get a big laugh on national TV?

But speaking of Steven Tyler and American Idol: A 60ish man leering at teenage girls has never been so fucking sexy. My high school Aerosmith crush is back with a vengeance.

All of the above are about TV. Hm. I haven’t had a TV for over 10 years until I moved in with C. Now I live with a TV that’s half as big as the living room and I watch American Idol. And look forward to it.

I should say, to be clear, it’s not as if I haven’t watched any TV in the last 10 years. J and I rented plenty of DVDs and watched movies and TV series on Netflix streaming on our computers. And last year in Austin, a group of us gathered every week at a friend’s house to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race.

Drag Race is now my favorite thing on TV, by a long shot. This season is even better than the last. Full of surprises, fucks with your assumptions about gender and sex, gay culture, homophobia. It’s deep, seriously. It manages to be totally sweet and disarming and at the same time subversive and very, very dirty. Love it. Bam!

And I've been mulling over an essay about exes, how those relationships change and, especially, what they mean. I have a couple (exes, that is) and they are all very very different in the way that they figure in my life. This subject deserves a long essay. I have had so many thoughts, been so sure of my opinions, on the subject of ex-lovers, ex-partners. This is really mostly an effort to understand my relationship with J, who is so important to me, so dear to me, but it's been confusing and sometimes painful in the last few years to negotiate this phase of our alliance. So, look for that in the future...