Oy, such a week I had. Between work and the plays and a couple of events I was coordinating, I thought I’d never make it through.
I’m happy to report, however, that everything came to a screeching halt after Saturday’s performance (which, fyi, went remarkably well). I was so exhausted I didn’t even leave the house on Sunday. Many more details to follow…as soon as I catch up with everything.
Meanwhile, don’t forget: today’s the last day to sign up for the Secret Santa sexyfunky holiday lovefest!
Okay, well that’s fucked up. And kinda cool.
1981 was an eye-opener for me. It was my 7th grade year–my first year in public school. Between the quaint but ridiculously out of date elementary school I’d attended and my overprotective mother (she cringed at the thought of me playing football or riding my bike in the street), I quickly realized I’d missed out on a lot. I was particularly clueless about sex: although I discovered the joys of masturbation around that time, it took me at least a year to understand the real implications of what I was doing.
1981 was also the year AIDS appeared in the headlines. Over the next couple of years, the public learned more about it, and I learned more about sex. I began fooling around with men–not just the few curious boys in my class, but men, with wives and children and houses and stuff. I didn’t yet identify as gay, but I slowly came to realize that I might have something in common with the gay men on 20/20 and 60 Minutes who spoke about their uncertainty and fear in the face of this new disease. So as I got older, I was dealing with two problems–my not-so-latent homosexuality and the fact that my dalliances could be dangerous.
Of course, that didn’t stop me. I kept having sex with men–in fact, if anything my escapades grew more frequent. I was a teenager filled with raging hormones. What could I do?
As I came to accept my homosexuality over the remainder of that decade, I became fairly active in AIDS activism. Well, as active as any of us could be in Mississippi, where talk of sex–much less homosex–was not commonly a topic of dinner table conversation. There were no ACT UP chapters, but I did what I could.
Today, though, I can’t tell you the last time I attended an AIDS fundraiser. I feel kind of like an anomaly. Yes, I’ve had a few acquaintances die from AIDS, but no one very close to me. And I know a number of men who are living with HIV, but to the best of my knowledge, none have even become seriously ill. With advances in treatment, it feels like no one’s dying anymore.
Hey! We’re a best bet!
Omigod! Dr. and Mrs. Eek just got their first bit of fan mail ever:
I really like the way you put your page together. It is really cool how upbeat you are. I am from Terre Haute too. I work at a local
corporation on their computer help desk. Nice to meet you through the internet and would like to chat some.
If I work this right, Doc and the Missus might get into some nasty cyberkink. I’ll see what I can eke out.
Oh: contrary to popular opinion, Mississippi was fun. Of course, it helps to have grown up there…. More on that later.
Okay, guys…off to spend some quality time with the ‘rents. Smell ya’ later (i.e. tomorrow).
P.S. Jonno, tomorrow’s garbage day.
It’s a holiday, right? Then why have I spent the better part of the morning catching up on bills, work, and side projects? Sheesh…I need a real vacation.
Well, I gotta wash my face and shuffle over to the grocery store–seems I picked up the wrong kinda sausage for Jonno’s stuffing (take that any way you like)…. There’s a reason I’m not the cook around here.
Happy TD, kids!
xo Richard
SECRET SANTA
So Pamie came up with a great idea–she’s running an online Secret Santa for her readers. I figure, why not share the wealth? Ergo, I present to you the Sturtle.com Secret Santa. (Let it never be said that I’m above outright thievery.) Here’s how it’ll work:
1. Set up an Amazon.com wish list with all the goodies you want for Chris-kwaanz-ukah. Be sure to keep at least a few items in the $10-$15 range. This may surprise you, but ain’t all of us loaded over here.
2. Send me your Amazon screen name, your Amazon email address, and the url of your wish list by December 4th.
3. I’ll work some magic and pair you up with a name I’ve pulled from a glamorous Easter bonnet! (Or a dog-eaten baseball cap. Whichever I find first.)
4. I’ll send you an email with the name of your Secret Sturtle–er, Secret Santa–along with the link to her/his wish list.
5. Spread the holiday joy, ya’ big dummy!
And sign up for Pamie’s list, too, if you’re so inclined.
Just for fun, I’ll be sure to post all the participants and their respective wish lists–just in case some of you are feeling extra generous this season.
Sound like a plan? Then start sending!
Okay, well, I think this la nina thing is finally over. For the past three years, New Orleans’ winters have been unseasonably warm, but now, in mid-November, we’re about to hit the freezing mark. That’s not a bad thing–it just means I’ll have to be borrowing from Jonno’s winter wardrobe a little more frequently than I’ve done in the past. And I’d better start planning a warmer Mardi Gras costume…
I hope you know that Jonno and I talk about you all the time–especially those of you we’ve never met in person. We’ll be sitting on opposite sides of the living room, talking about how so-and-so must be feeling randy, or how someone‘s in a particularly chipper mood, or how you-know-who is so pensive these days or thingummy‘s a bit angry or whatchamadoodle‘s feeling homicidal or Miss Thing‘s just a mess.
You’re like our very own real-time version of The Sims. Or tamagotchi. Or sea-monkeys.
You’re like porn with out the messy clean-up.
sturtle [dot] com 