Johnny S cuts my hair.  He is so bright and funny that I don’t mind parting with the fairly substantial amount he extorts from me every five weeks.  I have so much faith in his considerable skill that I’ve told him that it’s up to him to decide how to snip: I actually put it this way once, that in this regard, ‘I am his bitch’.

Once, gossiping while he was working his magic, I complained about the behavior of someone we know: he stopped cold, looked at me like I had just fallen off the turnip truck and said, ‘He’s an actor!’  (Johnny is married to a faculty member in the Department of Theatre and Film Studies at the university here.)

At forty-two, Johnny is working on another career; this makes me nervous, as I have come to rely on him.  In the past, I’ve had ‘stylists’ who periodically would make me look like a coconut or a Q-tip.  I’ve told him that if some day he and Michael decide to relocate, I’m simply going to have to move with them.

Last Tuesday, prior to Stephen’s and my ‘matrimonial’, Johnny whispered to me, mother/daughter fashion, that men being animals, Stephen would probably very soon be asking if he could kiss me on the penis.

A week later, I’m still waiting.  But after all this time, I am nothing if not patient.

We got married this morning, about 11:45, here on the Autumnal Equinox.

Last week when we applied for the marriage license, we got only a microscopic amount of attitude from the clerk who gave us the form to fill out.  Nothing remotely resembling the amount of attitude they get in Kentucky, though.  And truth be known, I was loaded for bear in the event attitude reared its ugly head, so there probably wasn’t any at all, and I just imagined it.

A friend of ours, the Judge of the Probate Court here in our county, did the honors in her office at the Courthouse, with Stephen’s brother Bob in attendance.  Stephen was all stalwart, I choked up.  We’d found vows we liked which were already fairly gender-neutral, and had tweaked them for things like ‘as you continue your journey together’ replacing ‘as you begin your journey together’.  (If you’ve missed the dozens of times I’ve dropped the duration of our relationship here on the blog, it’s currently 38+ years.)

We took Judge Susan to lunch afterwards, and we’re going out for cocktails this evening with friends.  We stopped by Stephen’s shop on the way home, and found this on the door, and terrific joy from the staff within.  A beautiful day!

On the subject of the day, we did specifically want to do this on an equinox, symbolic-wise, and the Autumnal one is my personal favorite.  Also, apart from being unwilling to wait until next Spring, the word ‘Vernal’ just sounds a little nasty, don’t you think?

Or is it just me?


I have always imagined myself an amateur Henry Higgins.  I love accents, and once had a passing facility with the International Phonetic Alphabet.  Here is as brief a treatise as I am able on the pronunciation of the word:

Mascara |maˈskarə|

In the US, ‘mascara’ is pronounced: mass + care + ah.

In the UK, I believe it is pronounced: muss + car + uh.

Sometimes, when we are about to go out and Stephen asks, ‘How do I look?’, instead of saying — as I should — ‘Very good. I must say I’m amazed!’, I say, ‘More mascara’.  And sometimes, when he calls asking if we’re out of something that he should pick up on the way home, I’ll say, ‘Mascara’.  And never with that terrible American pronunciation.

We are really not this kind of homosexual, but very often pretend to be.

[Wink? No wink? Honestly, I can never decide.]

Our friends Ken and Ouida live two blocks down the street on Springdale.  We live on Bloomfield.  It’s an old neighborhood with prim names throughout; here are four more: Cloverhurst, Wilcox, Rutherford, and Peabody.

Ken was head of the Graphic Design department in the School of Art at the University here until he retired some years ago.  He has a number of type fonts to his credit, most recently one called Around Eight based on his calligraphic technique which he uses to hand-letter his and Ouida’s annual New Year’s Eve party invitations.  Until age caught up with him, he was an avid inline skater, snow skier, skydiver, and hang glider.  Not at all based on the advance of years, he is a fairly serious curmudgeon.  This is the only quality we share.

Ouida is an artist with a beautiful studio which she bought with an inheritance from an aunt.  When I had aunts, none would have been predisposed to leave me in particular a dime, except that is, my very sweet Aunt Suzy who during my childhood never considered that I was growing up, and kept sending me paint sets for Christmas every year.  Ouida paints gorgeous and hypnotic abstract landscapes like this one, a small study for a much larger canvas.

We had known Ken and Ouida for decades before the name of Ouida’s hometown came out in conversation one day.  My mother’s older brother practiced medicine there his entire career, and it turns out, delivered Ouida.

Never disbelieve that it is a small world.  Enjoy your Wednesday.

Click to enlarge

Click to enlarge

This morning I got a newsletter from Dimitris Papaioannou (well, not personally) announcing new dates for his performance piece Still Life.  So, if you’re going to be in Athens, Bordeaux, Paris, Stockholm, Braga, Santiago, São Paulo, Antwerp, or Belgrade late this year or next, get your tickets now. (!)

(And ask me about the title of this post sometime if you’re the least curious.)

<p><a href=”″>STILL LIFE (2014) / 2015-2016 performances / trailer</a> from <a href=””>Dimitris Papaioannou</a> on <a href=””>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

A year ago this past Wednesday, we had just arrived in Greece for a three week visit there.  Our primary destination was Crete, where we remained two weeks for what my brother rather dismissively called ‘my memory trip’, as I had been stationed on the island in 1968 and 1969 on a US Air Force base located there.  The installation, shut down and abandoned in 1994, is now a ruin.

In planning the adventure, we had decided to schedule our stay in Athens for the return leg of the trip.  We were there for almost a week, and I think we were both equally amazed and enthralled by the city.

Stephen gets all kinds of nifty publications, both trade and otherwise, at his store, included here are pictures of two.  The first has an article about three smaller, ‘less-frequented’ museums in Athens, one of them, the Benaki, which we spent the better part of a day strolling last year.  It was overwhelming.

Unplanned, we had arrived at the museum on ‘free admission’ Thursday, which we felt was fair, since to that point we had been propping up the Greek economy with reckless spending. (!)  We took a break for lunch at the museum, seated amongst the well-heeled and the Ladies Who Lunch (also well-heeled).  Not just because of the company, it was simply the pleasantest experience.

Click, of course

Click, of course

More clicking

More clicking

The second publication here is from a jeweler called Matthew Campbell Laurenza.  Clothing, perfume, jewelry: the swank is always boosted with the right moniker.  I’m including the cover here strictly to show you what I might be aiming for in the unlikely event that I decide to do a Bruce-to-Caitlyn migration.

I could change my mind.

Click, unless fatigue has set in

Click, unless fatigue has set in


I had a couple of drive-by epiphanies today.

Or, maybe just one and a half; you decide.

As I wind down the blog to its sixth anniversary toward the end of October, apparently I’ve gotten a little careless with my subject matter.  Apologies for yesterday’s post.  Only, that I see this as sad misfortune having befallen a friend of forty years.

The other epiphany was that I could have saved myself substantial typing and you substantial reading if I had simply used shorthand for description: Roy Cohn.

Either the real one, or Tony Kushner’s.


We have an acquaintance who holds the title of Most Odious Person Alive.

Never is there an utterance from this person that does not seem custom-designed to intentionally make anyone within earshot dislike him, an endless succession of snarling barbs and disdain.

[Apologies, but I have removed the core of this post: TMI.  The response in ‘Comments’ is really a perfectly good synopsis.  Thank you.]

Once in a brief — they’re all as brief as possible — conversation with Odious, I mentioned Truman Capote, and he barked that he despised Capote.  Odd, since Capote is the author of the statement ‘A boy has to make his way in the world’.

In answer to what has possessed me to wax on about this person, a friend sent me Capote’s NYT obit today, as this is the thirty-first anniversary of his death.  Capote was one month shy of sixty years-old in 1984, looking eighty or ninety, poisoned by fame.

My favorite Capote short story is ‘Children on their Birthdays’, which in spite of its first and last sentences, is much cheerier than this post.

Sent to me this morning by a friend who no longer lives here in our college town

Sent to me this morning by a friend who no longer lives here in our college town

This blog has been since 2009, personal, and shared only with strangers out there in the ether.  As I wind down to October, I’ve been thumbing through the posts I pulled and archived offline, the purpose to share a few with a couple of ‘in-person’ friends.

With some mentionings of ‘the beyond’ recently on a couple of blogs I respect, I found the semblance of tongue-in-cheek in this clipping I posted once, to fit nicely with my own POV on such a weighty matter.



Lucky readers, today is a ‘twofer’ — a new one, and the next one down, a repeat.

My betrothed took me to lunch today to a new spot called ‘Goodie Two-shoes’.

A sister venue to ‘Mama’s Boy’, a cafe in a completely different part of town, both are hipster-influenced — it’s a far too well-heeled college town — homemade potato chips and lots of arugula.  (Fortunately, I’m crazy for arugula.)

If you’re ever in town, ’Goodie Two-shoes’ is located across the intersection from the famous soul food eatery ‘Weaver D’s’, whose slogan on their sign out front (‘Automatic for the People’) our local rock royalty ‘R.E.M.’ co-opted for the title of one of their albums.  And, do not feel alone, as I do not believe anyone in the world knows exactly what ‘automatic for the people’ means.

And, why would you visit Athens GA?  Well, to visit Stephen and me, of course.  So you’ll recognize him, here is a picture I posted on the blog a couple of years ago of Stephen and two friends.  That’s Stephen on the left.

After all these years, I still love to look at him.  And he buys me lunch.

One click makes it larger, but you knew that

One click makes it larger, but you knew that

Why am I telling you this?

I started blogging in 2009, but recently ditched all the posts before June of this year. I think I'm going to blog until October, a tidy six years, then 'retire'.

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