Rat Girl Wants a Pony, Hobos Sleep Downstairs

This week: in the pits of despair, in the lap of . . . well, sometimes it’s better to be discreet. My dear old friend Miriam has been hopping trains up the west coast. She landed on my front porch Sunday, with friend Steve, smeared with brake grease and California dust.

In the evening of the next day, much caffeinated and inky, we visited Steve’s friend Ted. We drove up a quiet street of arts and craft houses and found a jungle where Ted’s house should have been. The lemon balm, blackberry, rose garden was climbing up and over the house. It spilled over onto the sidewalk on it’s way to the street. We crept through green tunnels and found the house. Ted lived upstairs with his good woman. Downstairs lived a family, friends of the upstairs folks. Kids ran around with pet rats, chickens scratched in the corner of the yard. We picked cherries and blackberries and purple-fingered, sat on the porch to smoke. I drew one of the wise children.



The Next day Ky and Luke swept down from the sky to a little Lebanese restaurant downtown. We scavenged unsuccessfully and performed experiments in authentic speech, which ends up looking rather like monkeys at play.

Meanwhile I have a new poster for a rock band. It’s been a good week. I’m exhausted.

Midstream

Here's a fun game. These two images are the same illustration. Can you spot the difference?





The first image will grace the cover of tomorrow's issue of Just Out. The latter will go the way of the unicorns.

I originally planned on the one with skulls and whatnot . . . then I had a total freak out.

I much prefer skulls and snakes. Honestly, give me skulls and snakes (of course with hot semi-naked girls) and I’m a happy camper. The thing is, the article is about the decline of the anti-gay movement.

Well, I’m from rural Texas. The town I grew up in had a population of 816. The cows far outnumbered the Baptists and Methodists that lived there. If you looked real hard, you found a few Catholics, which is what they called “diversity”. What I’m trying to say is that small town Texas is not exactly known for breeding tolerance and understanding of different lifestyles. I know a lot of people who view my gayness as immoral and I’ve been kinda close with people who are active in the anti-gay movement. In Texas voters approved a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage, it’s a hot button issue.

I think intolerance, the will to deny people rights, comes largely out of fear and a lack of experience with the unknown. I spent some time with my grandmother watching John Hagee, a prominent Baptist televangelist who’s pretty involved with the Zionist movement. I was shocked that such a hateful message was being telecast into people homes, and that my grandmother agreed emphatically with his views that homos are wicked sex-maniacs without conscience.

But I dearly love my grandmother. I love her caretaker with the big fat anti-gay bumper sticker. I love that old friend from junior high who I ran into and probed me on my love-life because she heard “these awful rumors”.

The point is, I got gun shy about such a negative image relating to the issue, and I don’t want to mis-represent anyone. The Just Out art director had already approved the skull sketch and he was not having the happy rainbow image, and with reason. So I cranked this illustration out in 24 hours flat without a wink, not a wink of sleep. I spose it serves me right for hesitating, trying to change course mid-stream, so to speak. But my intentions were honorable. Now, if I could just remember what they say about that road to that place paved with some things. Oh well, I’ve got to go get my draw on. This band Hookah Stew wants me to do a poster for them, and there will be skulls.

Overworked, Under-caffeinated

Don't get the wrong idea from the stitched-up blood-thirsty wolf. I'm just an old softie.



Hi darling. Thanks a heap for stopping by. Pull up a chair, have a cup of coffee (we make it strong here, puts hair on you chest).

I’ve just been sitting here in the chill Portland Summer, thinking of writing about:

1.great sex
2. Fame
3. Great strength
4. knowledge
5. Great power

(Great love?)

But since I have the pleasure of your company I’d rather hear about your day. How was work? How’s the family? Have you had any good dreams lately?

Hmmm . . . Not very talkative. I can handle it. Although I miss the sound of your voice. I could sit for hours while you read out of the phonebook, read Dante in latin, or tell me lies.

I could use some sleep.
I've been working on the COVER for Just Out magazine. How did I land the gig? Hell if I know. Onwards and upwards.

This I Believe

I believe the glass is half empty, because it was full before I drank those two fingers of gin.

I believe the children are our future . . . and so are surveillance cockroaches.

I believe that deep down, most of us are still the same person we were at thirteen.

I believe, quite foolishly, that if you want something bad enough, make sacrifices, and work hard you can get it. In college I had a roommate named Laura (house of a thousand Lauras, we called it. Would you like red-head Laura or Mohawk Laura?). She would always ask the universe for what she wanted: a mustached boy-toy, a job, an adventure. She always got it, and maybe still does. Me? I was petty, jealous of her magnetism, but I still ask: Dear Universe, How are you today? Thanks for the planet; it’s swell. You’ve been so generous and now I have a completely unreasonable request . . .

I believe that getting what you want is a mixed bag, but a mixed bag is better than no bag at all.