October 29

'Allo, my dearies.

Now, honestly, did any of you really expect that this return-to-blogging would adhere to a schedule even remotely resembling "regular"? I know I didn't. In fact, I think it's high time we all ended this charade and called it a day. I was discussing it with friends over the weekend and the fact is I simply don't feel like a public person any more. And that translates into not thinking like one. Meaning I don't process my experiences into a form that bears relating to anyone past my immediate circle. In short, I'm really remarkably dull. In a fascinating way, of course (I am still me, after all...) but dull nonetheless.

So I think it's time that tomjudson.com goes the way of gusmattox.com and heads into the deep freeze. Like its sister site, the entire contents of tomjudson.com will remain online and "alive", yet in stasis, destined to become merely a curious sociological artifact. A fossil, if you will. A whisper of a memory. (In case you can't tell, I'm reading Forster at the moment. It could be worse--I could be in the throes of Henry James and this brief adieu would go on for pages and pages.)

For the curious in the audience, my life has been amazingly productive of late in the other fields in which I dabble. This website may be in stasis but its author has been anything but. I have a new house project to keep me busy for the winter and I pet the cat frequently. Until she bites me. I've also whipped myself into amazing shape--there I said it--since the middle of summer and I plan to stay that way even through the thicket of cookie-mined holiday parties coming up in the next few months. Wish me luck on that front.

And so light-hearted and dry-eyed I bid you all a very fond farewell.

I suppose I couldn't say goodbye without a final photo. Here is the latest addition to the Judson compound. It's a storage space with a screened-in room attached. It's fairly sumptuous and I call it the The Pavilion. It was meant to be a shed but took on a life of its own.

OK. Now I really must go. See y'all in church!

August 20

Just in case you don't remember who I am, my name is Tom, it used to be Gus and I'm a chronically unemployed master-of-none who occasionally scribbles a line or two about nothing in particular.

Now that that's out of the way...

I really can't try to catch you up on all that's been going on since last April, even though--honestly--there hasn't been that much going on. I've been trying to buy another house to do the ol' fliperoo to, but one after another has fallen through for one reason or another. The first (an adorable little Levittown-type Cape) ended up being built over a nuclear waste dump or something like that. Oh, that pesky mercury... The next one (a 200-year-old farmhouse filled with bad 1970's paintings) had a well and septic system that sorta kinda were feeding into one another. Eeeeewwwweeee. The last house I tried to buy fell through because... well, I'm not exactly sure why it fell through but it did. So here I am at the end of the season twiddling my thumbs and wondering what the heck I'm going to do when/if I grows up.

It has left me plenty of time to play the piano, though. You remember that piano? The one from the Plaza Hotel that was living in my kitchen for the past year. Wait a minute... What the...? Did he say was living in the kitchen? As in, past tense? Yes, ladies and germs, I haven't been completely sedentary since last spring. I just went and built me a new room just for the old Steinway. And a new pantry. And a new screened-in porch. And a new front deck. And I did it all by my lonesome in a fun-filled, jam-packed five weeks. Boy, oh boy, but wasn't I pleasant to be around from May 22 through the end of June! Grimy... tired... cranky... A regular triple threat. But at the end of that five weeks I not only had a new and beautiful music room, I had a new kitchen table in--of all places--the kitchen!

After every project on the cabin I've jokingly said, "And now it's finished," knowing full well there was another addition of some sort lurking 'round the bend. But this time I said, "And now it's finished," and tie me up and slice me for bacon if I didn't actually mean it. The house is, well, it's done. No longer am I the modern-day, bohemian, homosexual heir-apparent to Sarah Winchester. The cabin in the woods is a Mystery House no more. Hallelujah!

Why don't I just flip open my cyber wallet and bore you with some snapshots of the wife and kiddies... My phabulous photographer phriend Kyle took the good ones... I took the rest.

1) This is how the house looked on May 21st of this year. Let's call it "Before," shall we? 2) The same house, from more-or-less the same angle earlier today. I'd say "After" describes it just fine. 3) I had to deconstruct the old shed to make way for the gorgeousness. Unbuilding even a small room is a pain in the arse. Sheesh. 4) Raising this front wall was the only thing on the project I didn't do completely myself. It was just way too heavy. I called over a few friends and we did the barn-raising dance from "Seven Brides For Seven Brothers." Well, sort of. 5) Yup, I even raised these rafters alone. And lived to tell the tale. 6) The first wall to go up. 7) This ycchy mess was lurking under the shed. I discovered it all when I tore the wall down. Kinda scary, huh? 8) Notice how the new room is a couple of steps up from the rest of the house. It matches the topography. I'm so Frank Lloyd Wright-y that way. I'm also too lazy to dig out the side of the hill. 9) This is the new screened-in porch. It may be my favorite part of the whole addition. It's definitely Mickey the Cat's favorite. She can usually be found sleeping on a chair. In fact, the hussy doesn't even come to door to greet me any more when I arrive home. 10) Mickey's chair. Sometimes she lets me sit in it. 11) Heaven. Cantilievered. 12) Aaaahhhhh..... now that's a piano room! Dig this groovy angle Kyle came up with. She climbed up into the loft and shot it from the top of the steps. Looking through what used to be a window. 13) These are the new steps up to the loft. I decided to build a set of shelves into the landing. Oh, and that built-in banquette? It's a total FLW ripoff. An actual Wright design in fact. let the lawsuits begin! 14) Golly, doesn't that 6' Steinway Series L piano look mighty nice in this new room? I'll answer for you: yes, it does. 15) And here, my friends, is my fringe benefit: I done got me a dining area agin'. Another overhead shot by Kyle. And she managed to catch the fabulous western chandelier, too. Yippee-ti-yi-ay! 16) This is the new dining table. It, too, is an actual, authentic Frank Lloyd Wright design. I have a picture of it in a book of his houses and I copied it. It's made out of plywood and cost--are you ready?--$75. And I love it more than anything. I can brag on it 'cause I didn't design it. I think it's swell. 17) So swell that I'll show you another angle. 18) The addition from the front. Doesn't it kind of look like it's always been there? 19) This is one darned nice spot to sit and read a book. And I do. Often.

What else have I been up to? Well, I've been rowing almost every day. I had been rowing on the Hudson River up to this year but I found a terrific lake that's even closer and where there's almost never anyone else there. It's been dreamy. And I've been seeing friends, mostly when they schlep up to the country. And I made an appearance on the Derek and Romaine radio show last week. John Rutherford (the mastermind of Colt Studios and a heckuva nice guy) was the guest co-host and the three of us had a ball yakking away like three ol' hens.

Oh! And I flew out to Seattle a couple of weeks ago to see the lovely and talented James Gray who is one of my best friends. He's out there doing the pre-Broadway engagement of "Young Frankenstein", Mel Brooks's new musical. I know one shouldn't report on something that's out of town and in process, but it was sensational. I hear the audiences are screaming and crowing every night just as they did when I saw it. The New York critics might have their knives out for the show (God forbid they should give Mel the red-carpet treatment they gave "The Producers") but I thought it was terrif'!

Left) Here I am at the lake where I row nearly every day. Please note the electro-shock therapy hairdo. Right) Me and my incredibly photogenic friend Eddie, one of those friends who have schlepped north. Hi, Eddie!

See ya'all later! Maybe next time we'll delve into politics. Won't that be fun? (But I wouldn't hold my breath, exactly.)

April 15

Jeez, like anybody really cares what one more person thinks about the Don Imus thing, right? But when has that ever stopped me in the past?

To get it right out on the table: yeah, I think it was right that Imus lost his job. But as the non-stop verbiage across the mediasphere will attest, it isn't an open and shut case to lots of folks. Some of the pundit/comedians with whom I generally agree (Bill Maher, Dick Cavett) have, well not really rushed to his defense (let's say crabwalked to his defense) like to say, "He's an equal opportunity offender." Y'know, I have to say I'm really, really sick of that argument. 150 wrongs do not make a right. Offenses to a wide array of minority groups do not cancel each other out. At best, the non-stop barrage of bigotry simply inures the listener to the harm and hurt the speaker's words convey. It's possible Mr. Maher et al are just covering their butts for when they themselves step over the line. But honestly I can't think of an example when Bill Maher has gone after a minority group. His targets are indiviuals (and their policies and hypocricies) and political parties. And his zingers are generally on-target. If Don Imus (or other commentators) expects to be taken seriously and his high-profile guests expect to reap the rewards of going on his high-profile show, then they don't get to choose when they're "just trying to push people's buttons."

Another feeble defense I've heard (just this morning from Bill Richardson, presidential candidate) is that "I know Don Imus. He's a great guy. He helps terminally ill kids." Great guys don't call young women nappy-headed hos. Great guys don't use the n-word. Great guys are not "equal opportunity bigots." Frank Rich in his Times column today points out that many of Imus's guests (he includes himself) turned a deaf ear to his bigotry because it suited their own purpose to go on the radio show for the exposure it provided. (Rich also managed to wrestle in a really oblique quote from his son, a "humor writer" who finds Don Imus just plain "unfunny" and then conveniently took the opportunity to link to Rich fils' recent New Yorker article, a piece which--to my mind--proves the li'l guy is an expert at "unfunny".)

Since I am not the one to cast the first stone in the "convenient linking" department, I'm going to give you a straight shot to an op-ed piece by Harvey Fiersten that is a must-read.

Hey, I can't deny that this whole thing provokes a sardonic chuckle from the back of my throat because it's the same subject that forced the issue as to whether I would keep my column at Unzipped Magazine. I almost wonder if I had lead with Don Imus rather than Mel Gibson if I would have been borne shoulder-high 'round the Unzipped offices on Wilshire Boulevard instead of having my parking validated and being given the boot.

But to quote that wise old sage Julie Jordan, what's the use of wond'rin'?

I just tortured my dieting self by watching the Krispy Kreme segment of Unwrapped on the food channel. I think I'll go eat a salt-free unflavored rice cake or something. (What the fuck is up with that host's speaking cadence, by the way? It freaks me out listening to him.)

If this entry seems rushed it's just that The Sopranos starts in 15 minutes and I can barely concentrate.

April 5

OK, so I guess I'm a monthly...

Righty-tighty, lefty-loosey. I had that in my mind the other day when I was replacing the glass in the storm doors with screens. Surely one of man's pleasantest tasks, for, of course it means that spring is here. Yes, it's true that the temperature dropped 20 degrees the following day and there's a thin film of ice on the deck from where it rained last night and snow is forecast for tomorrow, but those are mere hiccups on the road to warmer weather. I even washed all the windows in the cabin as a gesture of my conviction that winter (with its annoying late-in-the-season twin blizzards) is truly behind us. The snowdrops are in bloom at the porch steps, the daffodills are poking up through the ground, and the critters and birds are running around the woods like kids out of school. Maybe even the bear will come poking his nose in the garbage sometime soon.

Speaking of bears, it's about time I came out of hibernation myself. I've been pretty much a slug for the past weeks. Got lots of reading done and T.V. a-watched, but my (enlarged) shadow has not darkened the door of the local gym since Valentine's Day. Oy. Jabba the Hutt ain't got nothing on me, folks. Funny how not exercising and eating pints of ice cream makes one gain weight. But rather than buy a new belt I suppose I'll wend my way back to the treadmill. I did that thing yesterday where I caught my reflection in the mirror and thought, "Enough is enough." So I went through the fridge and cabinets and tossed out everything that really had no place being there in the first place. I always find that's the first step on the road to recovery. "I'm stronger than those pecan sandies, dammit!" I muttered as the cookies tumbled out of the bag into the trash. (You have to actually empty the bag itself because, of course, one can always fish the package out of the trash if it hasn't absorbed too much juice from the cat food can.) I'll give myself a month to get back to my fighting weight. I suppose I can survive on carrot sticks and clear broth for that long. The photo of the half-naked bodybuilder I'm using for my screensaver should help, too. Gazing at that sexy ridge that runs diagonally down just below his navel will be terrific incentive to put down the Mallomars and back away from the icebox.

And I should have time to implement this program because barring an act of God (y'know, the God who doesn't exist? That one?) I'm closing on the sale of Potic Cottage later this afternoon. Yippee! I have another little forlorn property all picked out which I hope to buy and make my summer renovation project, but I've discovered that from-making-an-offer-to-closing always takes at least two months. Regardless of the specific details of the deal. So I have an unavoidable little vacation until work starts up again (presuming I even get to buy the place I want.) I am, however, planning to build another addition onto the cabin. The astute readers among you may recall there's a 6' grand piano sitting in my kitchen that really deserves a room of its own. As soon as I get a tree that's in the way cut down I suppose I'll start on that. And then, as I say after every addition, the house will be done. Well, except for the deck which will have to be expanded to encompass the enlarged floor plan. I've got my own little Winchester Mystery House here in the woods of upstate New York. Keeps me off the streets, anyway.

I caught a cute little movie on HBO (or The King Kong Channel, as I like to call it) the other day. Have any of y'all seen Kiss Kiss Bang Bang? It's a great, cheeky little comedy thriller with Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer. Val plays a private eye who happens to be gay. And he really does just happen to be gay. It has no impact on the plot or any of the other characters. His sexuality merely serves as a device to allow Robert Downey Jr. to make an idiot out of himself from time to time. I found it really interesting because, just like in life, some people are gay and some aren't and for the most part it doesn't really have a bearing on things. It was an odd case of a gratuitous gay character that was completely inoffensive and just added a little texture to the story. Kind of like how an African-American character could walk onto the set of "All In the Family" and nobody but Archie would notice his skin color. And on top of all that, it was a terrific movie. I believe that's called "progress."

And another surprising "discovery" (for me at least): "White Fang". It's the story of a wolf told from the point of view of, well, of the wolf. Yeah, I know it's 101 years old, but I just got around to it. And for an odd reason: I just read a biography of the Mitford Sisters. They're a bunch of upper-class English kooks who always joked that their father never read books because he had once read "White Fang" and decided he'd never find another book as good so what was the point? I thought I'd give it a whirl and--whaddaya know--it's great. I started it on the subway the other day and almost missed my stop. I was reading it the other afternoon and almost missed the curtain for "The Year of Magical Thinking" (which was beyond great.) What amazed me about "White Fang" is that it's hardly dated at all. I guess that's due to the fact that until the last third of the book there are no (white) people in it. Y'know, you describe a forest covered with snow and it's not going to have any topical references. Jack London's language is generally so direct and unsentimental (I do think a "forsooth" snuck in at one point) that the book has a, uh, timeless quality to it. Gee, maybe that's what makes a classic a classic, huh? (Ain't I just the astutestest?) All I know is that I cried at the end of it. I cried at the end of a century-old book about a wolf. Go figure. And go read it. You can probably pick up a copy for 50 cents, like I did.

I'm off to the in-laws tomorrow for Passover and then back home on Sunday for "The Sopranos" (on the King Kong Channel.)

Life, she is good.

You may have noticed the navigation bar has been edited. Since I haven't been on an audition in forever there have been no additions to the On Stage page. And since I plan to spend the next few months sawing and hammering rather than declaiming there probably won't be any additions for quite a while. Instead of it sitting there nearly empty, mocking me, I just took it down.

But... I did stumble across what was to have been my next Unzipped column after that rag and I parted ways. It's never seen the light of day so I thought I'd post it here. Maybe it will compensate for the egregious paucity of updates to this blog.

Apropos of nothing... The other day my mom referred to that red rubber disc you use to get a good grip on a jar lid as a "rubber husband." And all this time I thought a rubber husband was something else.

Later, gators!

March 8, 2007

Whoa! These blog entries are coming at ya fast and furious, huh? I want to thank the three of you who are still even bothering to check for updates.

Just a few cultural odds and ends...

Movies.

Just saw Zodiac and loved it. Amazing that the director was able to keep a 2 1/2-hour movie suspenseful when--going into it--the audience knows they don't catch the guy in the end. The production design was terrific. It was true to the period but didn't hit you over the head. And there was one really great nighttime helicopter shot over San Francisco where the camera flies over the just-begun skeleton of the Transamerica Pyramid. The later time-lapse of the same building was fun, but I wish they had let the first shot stand on its own. But there's a really nice touch even before the picture starts: the Paramount logo before the movie is vintage 1970. I liked that. It would have been cute if they had "A Viacom Company" slide on from different sides of the frame like "A Gulf + Western Company" used to.

Uh, in case you weren't sure, I am a total nerdy geek over stuff like this.

1900 just came out on DVD. It's a Bertolucci movie from 1977 and is a benchmark in my moviegoing career. It was one of the first foreign movies I ever saw, it was one of the first movies I saw after moving to NYC (at the long-gone Bleecker Street Cinema) and, most of all, it was the first time I heard the name Ennio Morricone. Those of you with longer attention spans than I may recall Morricone was awarded a special Oscar this year for his more-than-400 (400!) film scores. 1900 has always been one of my favorite scores. Yeah, I suppose the music sounds pretty much like all of his stuff (I could say the same about Mozart,) but there are a couple of really gorgeous themes in this score.

But the movie itself is kind of amazing. This new release is the complete 5-hour version (5!) and contains some of the most beautiful cinematography (by Vittorio Storaro) ever put on film. The story spans 60 years and covers lots of political ground. And you even get some peter for your money with this epic. The characters seem to be obsessed with sex. If you've ever had a hankering to see Robert DeNiro with his hand on another guy's dick, here's your chance. I'm not kidding--there's a scene where Robert DeNiro and Gerard Depardieu (who is so beautiful you simply can't believe he became the walrus we know today) are both naked in bed with a prostitute. She's got two hands and they've each got a... well, you get the idea. At one point she puts Bob's hand on Gerry's junk and the audience gasps in disbelief. Yet it's all done so tastefully. (Heh-heh-heh.) In addition to those two you've got Burt Lancaster, Sterling Hayden, Dominique Sande and Donald Sutherland. Sutherland was on a roll here; 1900 was the second film in two years in which he beats a little boy to death. (I know it seems like I'm giving away the whole movie. Trust me--in 5 hours there's still plenty of great stuff.) Remember when Donald Sutherland played all those wacky character roles--he was the Christopher Walken of his day--until Robert Redford cast him "against type" in Ordinary People? He's still always good but I miss the insanity. He has a bit in Little Murders as a preacher performing a marriage ceremony that alone is worth renting the movie for.

Rent 1900. It's the great unkown epic (in America, at least) and will really fill a rainy Saturday. It's in English so you don't have to read subtitles all day. It's even got a magical scene in the forest with an ocarina choir. Oh, and the matronly widow in the second half of the movie who comes to DeNiro for financial help? It's Alida Valli, the gorgeous, sultry brunette from The Third Man.

Books.

"The Kite Runner". Hmmm. Everybody seems to love it. I was getting into it for the the first third but then it turned into a Lifetime movie. And the writing that I found purposeful and strong at the beginning turned slightly purple. I knew I was in trouble when I saw printed on the page--in a book written in the 21st century--"How could I have been so blind?" And, yup, the fact that what makes the horrible, evil, nasty Taliban guy especially horrible and evil and nasty is the fact that he likes boys kind of turned my stomach. I say wait for the movie.

But I've got a real gem for you. "After This" by Alice McDermott (Her "Charming Billy" won the National Book Award a few years back) is almost perfection. I read it in one sitting. It's just the story of a normal Irish Catholic family on Long Island in the mid-20th century. None of them are special; they don't think special thoughts or do special things. But I guess that's why the book is so appealing. I recognized myself and my family on every page. I really can't recommend it highly enough. I am kind of surprised, however, that no one in the editorial process realized that the last line of the book is the same as the last line (and in the same context) as the movie of Doctor Zhivago. Does that matter? Heck, I don't know. It pulled me right out of the story when I read it, though. (See geek disclaimer above.)

The GayVNs in San Francisco last weekend were terrific fun. Saw lots of old friends and lots of new faces. I am particularly awful at remembering people's names. And when most of the people at an event have two, forget it. Throw in the fact that I couldn't remeber half the time if I had been in a movie with someone I was conversing with or had just seen them in a movie and you have a recipe for etiquette disaster. There were lots of "Hello, darling!"s flying from my mouth.

The show itself was great. Kathy Griffin hosted and was high-larious. They were shooting for her Bravo series so y'all can see a bit of it next season, I guess. Kathy's dad had died the week before and at one point the organizers of the event weren't sure she'd be doing the show. So as a backup they asked... me. I know, I wouldn't believe it either, but it's the truth! John Glover and I sat down over pizza and brainstormed my whole act and it was gonna be great, I tell ya, just great!

But she recovered.

I wish I could write something pithy about politics, but sheesh--at this point there's no need to provide wry commentary. If one simply recounts what politicans say and do that's enough to get a laugh.

So I will simply sign off. Will I be back within a month next time? Ask me no questions...

February 6, 2007

"Where the heck you been?!"

Fair question, I suppose. To begin with, I was so consumed by and exhausted from working on the cottage I just finished renovating that I had no energy to post entries here and nothing interesting to report. "I stained the moulding today." "Put down tile in the bathroom." Thrilling, huh? But... I will admit that I stopped what had become sporadic entries even for me in what can only be described as a "snit." Trust me, working 12-hour days seven-days-a-week had put me in a less-than-generous frame of mind. I was crabby and tired. And dirty and sore. And so when I got that e-mail over at my sister site complaining that the galleries had not been made available as promised and that "the least I could do is to be honest with my fans"... Well, that poor sucker just had very bad timing. After the initial thought that my end of the bargain with my fans when I was Gus Mattox was to be good in my movies I quickly moved on to, "Fuck you, you fucking fuck," and in an all-out snit shut down the entire site. Then the very next day I got an e-mail here at tomjudson.com saying--very sweetly--that the writer was sorry to hear my column at Unzipped Magazine was being discontinued but that, really, he wasn't surprised "because you are really very opinionated." Uh... column...? Opinion...? That's the point...? Exercising my speedily diminishing--yet effective--phraseology I muttered the pithy apophthegm, "Fuck you, you fucking fuck," through clenched teeth and promptly locked this site in the deep freeze as well. Not wanting visitors to think I had actually died I turned the homepage into a gallery of alternating images from the site. (That wasn't a picture of me and my sisters with the elephant, by the way.)

But now the house is done and I'm in a much better mood, thank you. I'm exceedingly pleased with the results (so much so that I decided to sell it rather than subject it to tenants) and I'm anxious to start on the next project as soon as this one sells. It went on the market a couple of weeks ago and we'll see what happens with it. I've got my eye on a couple of downtrodden and neglected houses in the area just waiting for a little gay magic to be worked on them. But before I do that I'm going to build another addition on my cabin here in the woods. As mentioned previously, there's a grand piano sitting in my kitchen that really deserves a room of its own, so that's what's next on my agenda. And, heck, maybe a real storage room and a big screened-in porch while I'm at it. And as I say after every addition to this wonderful house, "Then it will be finished."

But nothing ain't gonna happen for a while because it's friggin' cold outside. We're not supposed to reach 20 degrees for the next week here in the northeast so I'm just doing a whole lot of nothing. Got a big chunk of that Lincoln's Cabinet book out of the way. And I'm working on some possible house renovation plans in my head. But until the latest house sells I'm on a forced hiatus. And that, my friends, is a very good thing. It's kinda nice to be forced to sit around and be idle. Lots of piano playing, of course. No auditioning, though. Nothing I'd want to be in, to be honest. (Oh, and in what parallel universe is it considered good manners to remind me I'm not doing the New York production of the Terrence McNally play? I mean, I really don't care and nobody else from Philadelphia is doing it either. But, jeez...) This trenchant blog entry is truly the only writing I've done since the previous entry. Maybe I'll get back to some of those projects that were put on hold? I dunno. Right now I'm just happy my pipes haven't frozen and I'm trying to force myself to get out of my pajamas and go to the gym.

There is one item on the calendar, however. They've very nicely asked me to present a couple of awards the GayVNs this year. I blush to remind you all that I am the current Performer of the Year so even though I left the business I guess I'm still a viable commodity. This year they're being held at the Castro Theater in San Francisco. I was an usher at the Castro Theater. Twenty-seven years ago. (You can do the math and tell me I didn't make the right decision to retire from porn.)

Now I'm going to snuggle with the cat and watch the food channel until I can summon the will to drag myself to go do legs.

Later, gators.

I did a podcast with the lovely and talented Julian Flesicher a while back. He just posted it. You can find it on iTunes. You can also get there from here. Click on the "Guilty Pleasures" link.

December 9, 2006

the e.e. cummings report

or

"i'm too fucking exhausted even to use the shift key"

well, i'd love to say how guilty i feel about neglecting this blog, but considering how hard i've been working on my little cottage, i really can't. i closed on the thing four weeks ago today and it's almost done--a near-total renovation, undertaken by a practically-senile middle-aged man-of-the-year loser in less than a month. and, yup, it's totally adorable and yup, i hope it starts renting out really soon because i'm flat broke and yup, i'm really pleased with myself in terms of what i've accomplished. but dang!, if i don't need a rest. it's been a month of waking up (on my own! not even to an alarm!) by 6 a.m., hoofing it over to home depot and then spending the rest of the day working at the house. i did laundry yesterday for the first time in ages. lordy, but my work clothes were rank. since my plan was to get it in shape to rent out for the holidays, and since it will clearly be ready by then, i decided i could afford to "go in" late today and get some stuff done around this house. stuff like, uh, making food. one thing about working so hard is that any extry mid-section is like brother robbins: it's gone gone gone. (that would make a good bravo series: the renovation diet. the idea is simple... you just don't have time to eat and when you do, there's nothing there to eat anyway.) sadly, there are no fun/interesting stories about how i banged my thumb with the hammer or how the roof almost blew off the porch as i was raising it because nothing untoward or unusual happened. this project makes the third time i have done a major reno/construction project as fall turned to winter. please god, next time make it spring to summer.

here are some before/after things. for your perusal. even the after photos are before wallpaper and moulding, so please use your imagination.

now, about this coming in second in men magazine thing... thanks for your expressions of outrage, but considering i am a practically-senile middle-aged loser (see above) i think i did pretty good. not to mention i'm, like, retired? and, y'know what? i think zeb atlas is sexier than i. there, i said it and i'm glad. and i don't care what you say; i think his vacant expression is h-o-t.

unzipped magazine, however... ya really have to wonder what goes on in corporate board rooms. after being essentially canned for writing about things that have nothing to do with sex and porn, i've gotten more mail about my now-defunct column than i did when i was writing in a saucier vein. i don't expect irate readers to storm wilshire boulevard or anything, but it does seem odd they decided to cancel what was clearly a popular feature of the rag. i'm curious if they'll publish any kind of explanation as to why my column is not in the magazine after the december issue. and to add insult to injury, they decided to publish the column on their online version with my last entry. oh, the pain!

hey, y'know what? it's a little before noon and i've made tons of food to have waiting for me in the fridge, cleaned the house and composed this blog entry. i think before i go over to the cottage i'm going to take a friggin' nap! i may do a little pre-slumber reading of the items on my nightstand: the undergear catalog and the harry & david catalog. couldn't really say which one gets me harder.

by the bye... i never did hear from my new congressional representative to whom i sent the letter referred to in the previous entry. ain't politics grand?

November 14

Oh, me of little faith...

Somehow they got it together with the Feds and I closed on the new place last week. I've been working on it pretty much non-stop since then and I'm already completely exhausted. I can talk about it now without jinxing the thing so to give you an idea of what I've gotten myself into, I bought a sweet little cottage on 2 beautiful acres on a peaceful, quiet mountain road. The elevation is just high enough that I'm wondering if winter will come a few days earlier there. The house is so cute that I've decided, rather than flip it, I'm going to renovate it and rent it out as a weekend thing. That way I not only get to do the grunt work on it but I can decorate it as well. In theory it should provide a teeny tiny income, or at least pay its own way. Really truly, in this case, I'll have my cake and eat it too. Of course, once again I'm completely and utterly broke.

So, just like last year, I find myself working like mad to bring what was basically an abandoned house back to life before winter settles in. This time around, however, the only completion deadline is one I set for myself as I'm not knocking out any walls. Yes, I'm doing a lot of stuff outside (I seem to be the Deckmeister--it's becoming my trademark) but the floor plan of the cottage is just fine as is (for now, anyway) so the majority of my work will be inside. I'm having a woodstove put into the fireplace and I'm actually looking forward to installing knotty pine paneling and hardwood floors and painting and plumbing and sanding and decorating in the glow of a fire while listening to music all day long.

My goal--and I do have one--is to get it in rentable shape by ski season. That gives me a couple of months to work on the thing. I know they do that on "Flip This House" all the time, but since I have a crew of exactly one I can't do much delegating. And quite frankly, it's something of a wreck at this point.

That said, my life is going to be extremely dull until I get the work done (and I usually end up falling asleep by 9:30 when I get home from the site) but I will try to update this blog from time to time. I can't promise much more than a renovation diary, though. With pictures, if that will help make it slightly more interesting.

To begin, here are a couple snaps of what I bought. It's when I first found it which explains the leaves still being on the trees. Since I closed last week I've built a side porch and an extension on the front deck. I'd love to paint it this year but that ain't gonna happen.

Wish me luck!

d) How sweet is this driveway?! u) You can understand my sudden intake of breath when I emerged from the trees to find this sitting on the crest of the hill. "Loaded with potential for the right buyer," as the listing would put it. m) Quél dump. p) Yuck.

Several of y'all have asked about my thoughts on the election last week. While I'm sure they're pretty obvious (funneling some of the wasted billions in Iraq into health coverage for all Americans, unimpeded access to abortions for all women, full rights for gay people, gun control, environment blah blah blah) what I really think about the election last week is this: if the Democrats fuck up this chance they're even more pathtic than I give them credit for. Remember how the world was on our side right after 9/11 and the Boy Prince threw all that goodwill on the ground, trampled on it and then spat on it? Well, that's what I'm afraid the Dems will do with this opportunity. Yes, of course I want all those things I just listed to be implemented. But there are a lot of people who don't and--glory be--it's their country too. Remember "compromise"? Remember "common ground"? If Pelosi, Reid et al can actually rediscover those concepts and get some things done they may just create an atmosphere in this country that would be amenable to a Democratic president. My dad claims it doesn't matter who's in power--I disagree. Mostly, because of the tone that emanates from the Oval Office. Call me a bigot, but I think most Republicans think that what they believe is right and everyone else should go along with that while Democrats believe what they think is right but they understand everybody else doesn't. An example? Competing bumper stickers that read: "Against abortion? Don't have one" vs. "God is Pro-Life. Period." (Don't even get me started on the God thing.)

But I digress.

I would just like to think that if the Dems can find the center on a lot of issues we're faced with right now that right-wingers can stop seeing liberals as a threat to everything they hold dear. Then they might, just might, vote for Hillary Clinton for President simply because she's an effective politician/legislator. If anyone thinks Barack Obama can win in the country we have now they're insane. Try living in a red county or state for a while and just try to conceive of an African-American being elected President. You'd have to have a better imagination that I.

(Personally I'm doing my own bit to find the middle--I bought a used pickup truck when I started working on the house. It has a gun rack in the back window, a V.F.W. emblem on the windshield and a small American flag flapping away in the bed. And now it has a rainbow sticker emplazoned on the bumper. I'm sure I'm confusing the hell out of the locals.)

By the way, I flaked out on my vow to not vote for anyone in my congressional race. But I did send a letter to the winner the following day. Funny, but I haven't heard anything back yet.

Thanks for all those b'day wishes. How do you people do it???

November 1

I probably shouldn't write about this--in the first place I said I wouldn't and in the second place it's probably unethical--but it was just too rich not to pass along:

I had expected to close on the purchase of a little cottage tomorrow but I got word from my attorney this afternoon that it's being postponed. Apparently the seller's lawyer (one F. Kafka, Esq., apparently) neglected to notice that the seller had put the house in his company's name when he bought it several years ago. Said seller also neglected to incorporate said company or file a d/b/a. So I find myself in the position of trying to buy a house from an entity that doesn't technically exist and from someone who is not authorized to sign the contract because one can't represent a non-existent company.

Complicated enough, right? My lawyer said all he needs to do is obtain a "corrected title" from the original seller. And who might that be? HUD. Yes, friends, my future with this sweet little house is now entirely dependent on the whims and vagaries of a branch of the Federal Government! How long do you suppose that will take? Do I hear six weeks? Two months? Can I get half a year? Oh, the pain.

Honestly, I got off the phone and just had a good long laugh over the whole thing. With all this unexpected free time maybe I'll finally get a chance to take up the harp.

Lookee! We done got us a brand new blog page!

Acmehousing.net lives!