Text from Dad

For future blog-->book-->page-a-day calendar. 1:04 PM: We are on a wine tour. I picked up two dessert wines. One is strawberry and one...

Figuring Out the Opposition

Sigh. Gay marriage. Where to begin? Despite whatever one might glean from my notes here (ie, that beyond poop, I err on the side of prude), ...

Song of [not really] Myself Sunday Dinner

Folks, this has been a tough month. Not tough in the-consequences-are-going-to-kill-me-or-anyone-else way, but tough in the my-poops-aren’t-...

On Being a Better Gay, No. 1: Out

A few things have happened lately that have had me contemplating my big gay existence. First, I met my partner in prude , who has donated mo...

Poopgroup: epiphany!

I shock myself sometimes, too. I am not sure I can accurate calculate the amount of time I have spent actively thinking about poop (why are...

Skiing; Mom, 51; Beef Bourguignon

When the conditions are right, is there anything better than snow skiing? What a luxurious sport—I mean, you’re whisked up—gestured, really—...

Slouching towards Xanadu

I came to New York really not knowing anyone. I had put a continent between myself and any blood relatives, and the two acquaintances I had ...