(My) Life Deconstructed

I actually posted a really nasty message encapsulating what I thought of UC Santa Cruz having construction work occurring on a federal holiday. It was not pleasant to be awakened by jackhammering at 7 a.m. I also completed the hardest paper I've ever written. I'd elaborate but I'm too wiped. I forced myself to take a break and go for a walk with my roommate (who's relatively near my age) and some younger friends. We visited the infamous Tree 9 above College 9. It was super easy to climb but my fear of heights made me afraid to climb much higher than the ladder. Afterward we visited the wish tree. It was fun reading wishes out loud. Some guy offered us notebook paper and pen so I left a very personal and probably disturbing "wish" for someone to find barring rain. I still am always amazed at the beauty of this campus each and everytime I step outside.

This was a weird and interesting samhain filled with expectation, on my part, that began weeks before I left for school. I have such a habit of doing that. I wonder if that's merely an extension of my "meals remembered" phenomenon or perhaps some kind of control issue. Or, maybe I'm must a mad party animal who likes to prepare well in advance.



I had the delightful experience of seeing my school friend and coworker in drag. He looked AMAZING! I think he's done this once or twice. I asked him about packing things like heels and he told me a funny story about hiding them from his family who'd brought him up from So Cal. The gay men here do a lot of getting together here in peoples homes or various places in town. A lot of socialization centers around weekly volleyball nights and e-mail lists. I've known about the monthly Fag Friday but this was the first one I was able to attend. I didn't realize till day of that it was well outside the city, for us anyway. It was at least an hour bus ride. Fun times. Good thing it was the night before Halloween. I was a little frightened when we got off at a desolate intersection with only a brightly lit service station and little else but as we walked along Main St., yes that was actually the street we got off on, I kept noticing cute yards with white picket fences. Eventually we passed a creek and lo and behold this really lovely shopping development set alongside the creek where the venue was housed. It was a really nice spacious restaurant with front and back areas, bar, lots of space. Not a huge crowd but large-ish and everyone seemed to know everyone. The guys here are really sweet and approachable. Patrick and I spoke to lots of people throughout the night.



I should backtrack. I forgot to mention when I found out it was 20 min outside the city by car I scrambled asking the very few people I knew about a ride home. Somehow, and I think facebook was involved, we were offered a ride by this really sweet man who facilitates the Queer Men of Color group that I coordinate for my job. As it turned out we got another ride offer from someone I'd met on campus which was cool cause my facilitator buddy doesn't drink and as it turned out hadn't made it out but was happy to come livery us home. I felt weird about calling or the prospect of calling after having boozed it up. Ultimately what the night was for me was a bonding experience with Patrick. We both joked that we'd become those people we knew who were always referencing their friends from college. This new identity (while privileged) is kind of an achievement for us both. He's only 28 but still thats mature for this place.



I had had a great deal of stress throughout the week wondering/worrying about what I'd do on the big night. As it turned out synchronously, no, make that auspiciously Patrick brought his neighbor over with him to my dorm Friday night. We've met before and she's a darling young woman of 19 who also likes women and has a moderately short hair cut. I mentioned to her in passing the possibility of hanging out (for want of someone to hang out with) the following night. As friendly as I am I really don't have many friends here who I can just call up much less hang out with aside from my 2 roommates who I just lucked out with. Katie is one of those unassuming above average intelligence kids you knew in school who was just nice. Not caught up in all that social BS/hell of school or high school. When she called me about going out Saturday there was a plan in place and she was gracious enough to include me. Turns out we were accompanying her friend Ricardo, who I've met on several occasions. He's also a young very smart kid with an impressive (refreshingly so) vocabulary and cogntive savvy. He was so excited to do this kind of exploration via gender posturing. He's a psych major. I think it was his first time in drag and he was going for maximum passability. He really took it as an empirical opportunity. It certainly was fun to be a part of. So we hurriedly got ready, or I did and we met in the field out in front of my college. The infamous 420 field where in fact kids were gathered on top of the red squiggle sculpture smoking and drinkin'. We bused downtown despite the dire warning e-mail from school. Walked a long way to the Santa Cruz diner. Had a really lovely meal and conversation. Strolled back thru downtown which was lit up like a runway and had expectation of raucous crowds in the 10's of thousands all descending on the cute little downtown area ready to party. We were early so we saw quite a few store bought costumes. Those make me sad. One or two really brilliant costumes. And, we were on a bus before 9:00 p.m. so we could attend a Halloween dance at school at 9:30. I kept referring to it as a childrens dance and when I arrived I couldn't help but notice the irony of the hard hard hip hop music and the predominantly white kids just going off. Little hard to dance too but as the night progressed the DJ played a few hits a la Lady Gaga and Beyonce. At least I can dance too that stuff. We ended up dancing our asses off and having the most amazing time! Who knew a children's school dance could be so much fun.

Wrote this Friday night. I was heartened to overhear some seniors remarking that there was an inordinate amount of douchebags this quarter.

I've been bothered about not writing time and again and I think about it all the time. I tell myself I'll write an entry tomorrow and make it really good to make up for it. I thought the paralytic depression I felt in OC would dissipate once I arrived at this magical destination in (my) life the University. I was all smiles and sweetness and light at first. We were all in a collectively good mood with excitement and newness and fun. Here at the art college where I live there is always music and singing and jam sessions at all hours in the courtyards and halls. Just this week we had a massive naked run in honor of the first rain of the season. 600 or so teens gathered in our commons then took off with collective chants, bagpipes, drums, and such trying to gather other naked students from other colleges. I learned something. A university is a collection of colleges. Here we have at least 10 all connected by lush forested redwood groves and wooded land. The deer are so abundant and ubiquitious that they seem to have little fear of humans. Just tonight I stumbled upon 2 as I ascended science hill on my way home. I tried to see how close I could get before they reacted. I got about 15' and crouched down. The deer looked at me perplexed for about a full minute before skirting away. The raccoons come out in packs of 3 or 5 as well and they just saunter past you as you walk from dining hall to residence hall. All the animals look so robust here.


Cantú Queer Center (radio station next door)

So why the change of heart? Why the sudden entry? A lot of great things have happened to me here in a short time. It would seem almost as if I were leading a charmed life here. I volunteered my time at the Queer Center and was offered a work study job which has been a lifeline and hilight of my weeks. The center and the crazy inclusive way they work is so welcoming and affirming. They even feed you and encourage you to nap on the couches which is so cozy since its housed in a huge A frame cabin with a picture window view of a redwood grove on a hillside. My boss is this incredibly fabulous turned on lesbian who looks like Jenny Shimizu and moves with such grace. She was a very succesful modern dancer before becoming a cool mom 2 years ago. The kind of mom who busy Gaultier baby and elucidates gender theory. She's asian like me so there's that affinity comfort level as well. I really love spending time with her and am really enjoying our friendship. Funny enough the first night I worked for the center was the night of their open house. She and a friend asked me out to the weekly gay night which while fun has elements of raucous frat party like every venue here in this college town. But the funny part is that neither of us had eaten before the open house so we were drinking like fish on empty stomachs. We had a funny episode. Ended up at Denny's. She had issues with being so plastered in front of me and wouldn't look me in the face but the next day did not remember much past leaving the bar much less why she woke up sleeping in her daughters bed. No biggie for me but it took her a while to get over the embarrassment. It was a good bonding episode. Since then there have been a few other events. I attended a Queer Leadership retreat overnight. It was pretty amazing although weird playing 10 fingers the truth game with sexually inexperienced but adventurous 18 year olds. Which reminds me. How did I get to this place of acceptance. I stopped giving a fuck. Stopped feeling like I didn't belong here. Stopped going out of my way to say hello to asshole children with pronounced senses of entitlement who mostly snarl in return anyway. Leaving my res hall and being struck each and everytime by the beautiful redwoods and Xmas smell of the woods helps too.


My fab boss Tam and our friend Ray in yellow

I'm writing tonight partly from the boost this sudafed is giving me but partly because I've just emerged from a great night of responsibility in which I was asked to table for the Queer Ctr at the Chicano Latino new student welcome night. What a fun time!!! And what a respite to be in a room full of Latinos like myself. I love it here but its so very white and I miss the brown-ness like I had at Santa Ana College. The event concluded with literally the entire room line dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. I felt really happy my bosses trusted me to rep the center after knowing me such a short time.


Queer Leadership Retreat group photo

Next time, the quarter system and how it makes your head spin.
endless construction and the ever present stench of portalet at Porter

It really sucks living in a construction zone, literally. No shower in our bathroom, etc. but at least it offers visuals.





At work view


Frontal view...check out the shirt

I think I wrote this Friday. Had planned on editing it but f*ck it. Here it is.

Something they push you to do in college is network, network, network. I'm great at being friendly but crap at the n-word, or so I thought. As I mentioned after the PSB trip I was feeling irregular emotionally. Actually I was feeling downright depressed and things like fitting into a new school were stuck in my obsessive thought track. Still the Japanese in me puts on a happy face and smiles thru it all. I had my 1st spanish 2 class and the professor seems super nice, but he conducted the class entirely en espanol. I'm sure it will be to my benefit but it was daunting. Plus having to interact with people while the room was like a sauna and my ass was dragging. He let us out an hour early which made it easier to attend an open house the Ethnic Resource Center was holding. The center houses Asian, Native, and Latino student orgs. Funny thing I was actually unsure whether to check out the Asian organization or the Latino one. I sometimes feel very culturally anglo and see myself as not a real Latino but also I feel so uncharacteristically Asian esp. with all the tattoos and being gay and stuff. While I was at the queer table, they call it Queer here, I still have to get used to that word. Anywho, while I was at the Queer Ctr. table I met this fabulous woman who was working the Chicano Latino Ctr. table and she made me feel sooooo welcomed that I made it a point to attend the open house. When I arrived she introduced me to her daughter who I later found out was a lesbian. The womans name is Rosie, Rosie turned to me and point blank said, "you're queer right (still have to get used to that word)? Then we had a long talk about her daughters relationship with her husband and how her recent breakup had affected their relationship. The father being very old school loved the girlfriend but was still grappling with the queer thing. Its one of those as long as you don't give it a name and tread around it, its ok things.

Did I mention that when I walked in I had a minor panic since I didn't know anyone? I forced myself to go inside and thats when I ran into Rosie. But, after we were done chatting in walked the Queer Center director who I've enjoyed an instant rapport with since volunteering there the other day. In my cross talk she overheard that I was looking for work study work. I slacked off on applying till it was too late to find anything. Turns out she was being conservative with their budget and after speaking to this fab woman (who reminds me of Jenny Shimizu, who's style I adore!) on staff (I think she was advocating for me, see it pays to be nice) she thought she could offer me some hours. So, on Monday after class I'm going to stop by the center to talk more about it.


p.s. this was my Friday night dancing outside the occupied bldg.

Today was the first day of instruction but fortunately for my hungover ass it coincided with a work strike. I hovered in the general area almost an hour prior so I could adjust my stimulant and food levels. Still I felt that yucky post party feeling and didn't even feel like being my usual friendly self. It was fine cause nobody spoke to anyone anyway. I got up this morning in San Francisco at 7 a.m. and rushed out the door to the MUNI, then Caltrain, thankfully it was an express train so it only took an hour to San Jose. From there I caught the Hwy 17 express and in another hour I was on a local Santa Cruz bus for the quick trip to the mouth of the school which at 11 a.m. did not have a huge amount of picketers. The general walk out and assembly were scheduled to begin at noon and last till 3. During dinner an announcement that the commons in the center of campus had been taken over by students. I'll bike over shortly. (I was just told the students had turned it into a big dance party).



Let me backtrack to my wonderful day in the city. Whenever you hear a San Franciscan refer to the city you can assume they mean SF. Wednesday morning I commuted into the city. A loooong 3 hour trip put me there at 2 p.m. and my adolescent best friend and partner in crime, Forrest, was waiting for me. Paul my old roommate happened to be hanging out in Dolores Park with Bodhi, our dog so I hopped out of the car and had a really lovely visit. Spending time with Paul and Forrest put a lot of my fears and social phobias into perspective. I am after all building something for all of us and not struggling with the day to day stuff like medication, a job, or finding affordable housing. I already have my own unaffordable housing courtesy of the State of California. Spending time with Forrest, searching for outfits at H&M was just like old times and even though it took till the end of the night to verbalize it, we were both really happy to reconnect and have one another close and in one anothers lives again. I am amazed lately at my take it or leave it attitude when it comes to drinking so it took some talking into for me to agree to have a cocktail with Forrest before the show. Being the sensible party girl I am I suggested we just go to the liquor store and doctor our own beverages. Forrest gave me a Vicodin (little weird seeing someone else (ab)use them reflecting on my own history with Scott). By the time the show started I was feeling great! I danced non-stop to all but one slow song. The show was a dazzling feat of technology. Even the crew were dressed in white lab coats working the hundreds of computers and server parts. I really enjoyed the 1980's references because they were done in a smart way. Typically I find nothing pleasurable about reminiscing about the decade of misery and I cringe majorly when anyone waxes on about it. The Boys incorporated a great deal of irony into their references and showmanship. Par example when doing Go West the staging was full of red china references. A nice touch! Go West, your destiny is there, indeed. The venue, which incidentally was the last place I saw them (also one of the best shows I've seen), was nice and intimate so there was really no bad seat on the floor. My only gripe was that being esconced in the bear group meant a completely obstructed view of a wall of iPhones constantly and unceasingly recording and photographing every single change. Scott accused me of wanting to document everything and thereby taking myself out of the moment, which is somewhat true, although I only ever pause for a second and then promptly return to the enjoyment. He called it meals remembered (syndrome). These guys were like statues the whole time. Afterward Forrest talked me into going onto the Castro, no tough feat in my floaty state. We had been drinking beer throughout the show. We reviewed our options and set on Juanita More's nite at what used to be the Castro Station. Turned out rather than faeries and freaks it was wall to wall twinks. Visions of being surrounded by teens on campus. Fortunately we didn't stay for very long and I was back at Dexter's house in time to pop and Ambien and say goodnight.



No more trips to SF now that school has begun. I will be very very sad about missing Folsom, LovEvolution, and Castro Fair but it has been drummed into my head that the quarter system flies by that I know better.

I do not know why I've not felt settled enough to write. UC Santa Cruz is a dream in so many ways. The community and curriculum are so "turned on" and the campus is nestled in a gorgeous redwood forest with sweeping views of the Monterrey Bay. I feel like I have returned to Witch Mountain. There are so many great and exciting and new things occurring. Each day is a new set of possibilities and activities since moving to UC Santa Cruz. When I arrived the dorms were still under construction so I was put into temp apartment housing which turned out to be a cool thing cause I immediately bonded with this very gregarious and beautiful young woman who is into philosophy and death metal. Everyone here is super friendly. Everywhere you go people introduce themselves and say hello and chat and stuff. It's a little weird for me feeling so alien around the throngs of young people. They all seem so tiny in stature as well. When I finally moved into my dorm it turned out I was put into a 3 person studio which means in theory we have a kitchenette and our own bathroom. Right now only the sink and toilet work. Everything else is under construction like the entire building. My roommates are very nice and both at least a more mature 25. One is a young open minded cool taurus from LA and the other is your scraggly bearded vegan hippie type. We seem like we'll coexist quite nicely. So far we've been glued to our laptops in the evening with a little chat here and there. During the day we've been doing our own thing.

So far I've gone on a bike tour of campus and into town. The ride back was brutal and a lot of us walked our bikes for great stretches. That same night we went on an arduous hike behind the college to the most amazing moist clay lined cave. The school put a cement barrier over the entrance but some students opened it up exposing the iron ladder into the large main chamber. As we made our way in we eventually had to crawl on our hands and knees thru wet slimy clay. The 3rd chamber was so small we had to crouch down together and it was very warm and difficult to breathe. The caves go on even further but the cavern gets dangerously small and descends into seudoscorpion land and creepiness.

Thursday is the first day of classes. I bought tix to see the Pet Shop Boys in SF Wednesday so that means I'll be hoofing it back super early Thursday to make my 1 p.m. class. We're supposed to have a strike that day so things should be interesting.



I almost forgot to mention the initiation last night. It was lead by the fabulous Porter (College) RA's who were topless in war paint, yellow and red, our colors. People beat everything from pans to drums and there were even bagpipes. We marched to the center of campus where we danced and drummed and screamed chants about Porter College being the best college, well best f*cking college actually. Did I mention that I love being at the art college? I cannot imagine being anywhere else. Indeed, Porter is the best college (on campus).

ps I've been taking pics but I wanna wait till I compile a good selection b4 posting them

I actually had a really lovely weekend spending time with large groups of friends and for the first time in ages I didn't return home depressed or deflated. Friday night Lonnie and friends put together a send off party. I was banished from his house while his friends decorated. It looked like a combo of my prom and this is your life with photos of the two of us together and photos with friends everywhere and streamers. They made me open a box of stuff at one point and I while I was laughing hysterically I was very touched. Had it been a little less raucous no doubt I could easily have cried.



Sunday BBQ with some pool party bear friends. Monday BBQ with Lon's best friend. Although I hit the gym Saturday for 4 hours I managed to drink beer and booze for 3 days straight. I'm trying to keep "up" and not focus on the idea that I leave in only 9 days. I will miss Lonnie terribly but in my heart of hearts I know I will thrive at UCSC.

Here are some photo remnants of the weekend. This blog should start up again in earnest after September 16th. Please enjoy:

This was on PCH above the beach, moments before in the canyon it read 102

Hung out with a school friend at West St. Beach, the gay beach in Laguna. The waves were scary violent today. No swimming allowed. Only wading in the shorebreak which felt like your legs were being sandblasted. The waves would literally explode 7' in the air and pound the beach relentlessly. It was lovely to escape the intense heat and on shore felt blessedly cool.


Exploding surf

Please forgive my lack of posts. I'm on summer holiday mode. 3 more weeks till school starts and I move to UC Santa Cruz. I've literally been doing nothing but going to the waterpark and the beach. Pics will be posted later.

Check out my blurb on how I stay healthy on the Lifelube blog: http://lifelube.blogspot.com/2009/08/how-is-toro-castano-healthy.html

Gotta get a frame for this photo tomorrow. Just taking a few photos to college and this is one I'd like to have in my room.

I went to bed last night thinking I would skip my SOS group today but I woke feeling so badly I figured it would be better for me to at least interact with other people instead of sitting here sleeping or withdrawn having obsessive thoughts and pangs of sadness. As it turned out we had a small intimate group of 10 today but it was very intense. There were two new people including a mother who told a heart wrenching story of hugging her son and telling me whatever it was they would get thru it together. In the minutes it took her to walk to the kitchen to get his meds and some water he took his own life. It was actually very telenovella. She described in her perfect broken english waking outside as the ambulance took her son away looking up at the sky and screaming, "Why, why, why, you said that if we believed in your son and lead good lives you would deliver us salvation." Very telenovella. Taking the bus there and back and attending ate up 6.5 hours of my day. Now that I'm home I'm bumming out of course. I've no idea what tomorrow will bring but I have a feeling that taking the weekend to clear his head will change nothing between Lonnie and me. I see no reason why things will change and I'm still just trying to get by minute by minute, hour by hour.

I almost forgot to mention this. The other night I removed all the shrines and the sundry framed photos. I thought it would be a big deal but really it felt insignificant. It just felt like the right time. I still cannot sleep without my nightlight. A dark room is still a scary place for me but each in time.

Flying out early Thursday morning. Bus to Santa Cruz in the afternoon. Staying at the IYH Santa Cruz hostel in the evening. Orientation at UCSC friday 7-5 p.m. then bus'ing into the city. Prolly SOMA for a casual drink. Flying home early Saturday morning.

I got a text from Joe earlier this week saying he would be missing group due to a family function. I was really angry at the thought of him missing one of our last 4 final sessions and I was angry at the prospect of attending without him so I carried this with me throughout the week. When Friday approached I really did not want to go to group. The transit authority here have removed all schedules from stops and reduced service drastically. There is one major line I usually take from my house which comes twice an hour. The times have recently been tweaked ever so that they don't come at regular intervals all day. I called up the rider line at 17:00 and asked when the next bus would be. I asked if the operator was totally certain the time was correct for my stop and not the stop before or the stop after. He gave me the wrong time, the old time so I waited in the bloody hot sun for almost 45 minutes just missing my bus by minutes. This would put me at group 15-30 min. late. I was livid by the time I got on and I contemplated getting off and skipping group. I forget when but I started to manifest some resentment at the way we were informed at the last meeting that our group would be concluding. We'd had 4 weeks off due to moving BS with the city and permits. I was a mess during this time and I desperately looked forward to going back to group so when I heard the news I panicked. I suggested that we at least do some kind of wind down.

Scott never liked to abruptly hang up the phone so he'd announce a 5-20 minute wind down before saying goodbye. We haggled over the time period. Of course I suggested 4-6 weeks much to the surprise of one of our facilitators and Joe. We "collectively" decided on 4 more weeks. During our initial check-in's I shared that I was more accepting of the news and I shared that I felt I reacted out of panic and shock and felt like I was the one pushing the group to meet longer than everyone wanted. I got some good feedback and was told by our other facilitator that if we had decided the last meeting would be our last or even this one she wouldn't have felt okey about this. She and the other members thought it was very appropriate to take some time and process our seperation.

The further the bus got from my house the longer the prospect of walking home in the heat kept me from pulling the stop cord. I did dawdle though at my transfer stop and went into McDonalds to punish myself with some "food." Jesus Christ I was in shock when I read that a double cheesburger has 440 calories in it. I ingested half my daily caloric intake of 2000 calories in 5 minutes. I stopped in the first place out of passive aggression so when I arrived 20 minutes late I was reasonably calm(ed) and being so late I really didn't expect too much out of the session.

They were kind enough to wait for me. I'd never been late before and we usually do wait if a member has not shown. So, after we did our check-in's we were given clipboards and paper to do an exercise which much to the shock and horror of Connie and Dee was to write our own eulogies. I was totally stumped at first but I've done sooooo much introspection and written so much about myself that it didn't take me long to start. I decided that I would take the tack that in the imaginary version of my life I had actually written my own eulogy before my death to be read aloud. Here is what came out of me:

Life is short, friendship endures. Many of you who knew Bully have experienced his commanding prescence. His strength that lay in his optimism, curiosity, the way he collected friends, his charisma, and his humor. The buddhist believe that the nature of existence is suffering. This is the human condition and the nature of life. Perhaps happiness then isn't a goal but a condtion, a precious fleeting state of mind. The only tangible assets we truly have are the connections we've made. You may have looked at me and seen optimism, or charisma. Other may have seen kindness or obstanance. But, what you really saw was a reflection. I am you and we are each other. We are all these things and we are formless fields of benefaction, but we are these things together. We are love and friendship. You are me and we are each other. I want to thank you for giving me the gift of your friendship. It has been a great life!

When we closed group and did our final check-in's we were given an assignment. We are to consider ideas for some kind of closing ritual for our final group. It can be as simple as listening to music or as extravagant as performing ritual acts. I would be very grateful for any suggestions. We've been on an incredible journey of healing for one year and one month.


Greetings from Wild Rivers waterpark

Tuesday afternoon there was a post on my facebook page from my friend Jason who's now going to Berkeley. We worked together running the GSA at SAC and although we've never spent a significant amount of time together we always enjoyed an instant at ease connection. Jason's been at Berkeley for almost a year, long enough for him to shed his Orange County damage and fall in love with the Bay Area. This is something I was very excited about him experiencing.

Here's what the post said: I have a friend that is doing a research project on gay marriage and is looking for someone to speak to the class this coming Thursday at SAC. I was going to film a segment that she could show the class but I know she really wanted a speaker. It is for an English 101 class with mark higgins. I spoke to his class about gay rights like 2 years ago. You are one of the most knowledgable and passionate persons that I know and know would do a great job. I know it's short notice but if u r interested let me know and I will forward her contact info:)

I spoke to Jason's friend, a japanese girl here about 2 years. I wasn't completely 100% sure what the 8 person group wanted me to talk about so I focused on the arguments the anti-gay marriage people presented to the Hawaaii court. Basically there were 10 bullet points and having spent so much time on protest lines and organizing on campus I was well versed. The presentation lasted about 2.5 hours and included a debate portion, some video clips, class poll, and my speaking portion. I talked about why same sex marriage is a civil rights issue. Namely that we can be prevented from making decisions about the care of our partners during hospitalization or at the end of their lives. I shared two personal anectdotes. One about my friend Vern who was kicked out of his home by his partners hostile family 2 weeks after the partner died in a fatal car accident. I also shared about my experience with Scott's sister when she prevented me from entering and packing up his apartment after his death. The group leader was this cool skater boy who spoke to me during our break. I was a little shocked when he asked me if I was a bear, referring to my masculine appearance. He told me his best friend considered himself a bear and he went for the manly types of guys. His friend came out to him about 2 years prior. He said the only change it made in their relationship was that he stopped trying to fix him up with girls but they were as close as ever. Another girl from the team who was sitting with us told me that she was shocked to find out I was gay, again referring to my "butch" appearance. Education starts with baby steps so I left out the part about how I've been known to prance around in a pair of lucite heels on occasion. I was totally shocked how cool the kids were about not only gay marriage but gay people. Gotta love the kids today. It amazes me when people get all nostalgic for the 80's. Today is where its at. That decade was hateful and hellish.

This gallery window was filled with crucifixes and cool milagros that you'd dedicate to saints in a catholic church. It was next door to a skater gallery that had some great graffiti art.

I trekked from my house to the heart of old orange county, Santa Ana, to a place called the Artists Village. At the heart of the Artist Village is the Cal State University Fullerton Grand Central Art Center. The 45,000 square foot, three-story bldg. houses artists studios and apartments, classrooms, galleries, and a theatre. We met at the Gypsy Den cafe the closest approximation to San Francisco even down to the tattooed lady servers, although they were really super nice. Although temperatures have been searing for the first time all summer there was a cooling breeze. We voted to draw indoors thinking it would have a/c. No such luck and we were on the mezzanine of an upper floor of the ancient Santora Bldg. Everywhere you look artists have rented spaces and bad paintings hang in every window. It was a great feeling! I choose an ornate window from a locally famous set designer. He had done a really gorgeous art deco skycraper below a glittery silver crescent moon and ringed planet. I was sweating profusely the entire time. It took me quite a while to figure out where to start. I doubted myself and my abilities. But, I eventually started and although imo my drawing looked like sh*t it was a big boost and a learning experience and I got some instruction from our beloved professor. The best piece of advice I left with on how to improve was to do a drawing each and everyday. That's the kind of structure/motivation I have a difficult time creating for myself. Much needed and appreciated. For homework we're to arrange objects that tell a story about something that occurs in the room. I think I'm going to draw my Connect Four game on a card table. Why am I so fond of sad stories? This set was one I played with Scott many nights. It feels great to be drawing again. Now if I could only spend some time learning to play my guitar.


The Gypsy Den Cafe


Santora Bldg. in which my old school rents a gallery space. This is where we were drawing today.


Inside the hot box!

Another lacadaisical weekend spent riding around in convertibles baking in the So Cal freeway sun. The blessedly cool fog and almost chilly breezes have gone and been replaced with stifling heat. It makes me feel like I'm having an altered déjà vu experience of my reality.



We finally reconvened in Friday group in the new location. I love it! The gay center is in a bustling working class area which is almost entirely latino. Its a few blocks past my old school. We innaugurated the new group meeting room. We did our check in's. Dee and Connie have become a couple. Joe's friend has moved in with him for some weeks now. I was decidely not as upbeat and expressed my stuck-ness as of late. Of course one of our facilitators reminded us that it was okey for us to be wherever we were on the emotional map. I knew/know this but still I miss having company in my "misery." My worst inner emotional fears of abandonement were realized as we revisited Joe's graduation comment. The last meeting he announced that he was ready to graduate from the group in order to make room for someone/something else in his life. (Mind you this is my internal dialog, i'm processing out loud.) Each of us reflected on the journey we've been on collectively over the last year and one month. Dee said, "I didn't think I was going to make it before finding this group." We were incredibly blessed to have this unique oppportunity. Most bereavement groups only go for a set time. 10 weeks typically which is actually what we had planned. We were allowed to extend it a few times at which point we just extended it indefinitely. I knew/know that the group cannot go on forever. There comes a time when we have to be strong enough to stand on our own. Thats not actually the issue with me. I just hate saying goodbye and ending things. I got just as depressed when the school semester ended. This is a sad thing but its a good thing. As I approach the move home with only 9 weeks to go a lot of melancholy feelings are coming up.

As we were closing the group Joe talked about a dove that periodically nested in his backyard planter, a planter that resided right at eye level as you stepped into the yard. His friend asked him about it and Joe said you just have to walk to past it and not make any eye contact with the family. It's only a temporary thing. The family nests for 3 or 4 weeks and then they move on. You just have to "sit" with this change for a few weeks.


I went 3 times!!!

Last week was a total wash. The illness and and the paralytic whatever that was. I'm going to drawing class tomorrow. To the gym today. Attempt to draw at the library after that. Drawing is the key to getting myself going again. We shall see.




summer mode

Apologies for not doing my usual weekender re-cap. Friday morning I woke with a wicked sore throat and by Sunday it morphed into a full on cold. Today was the first day I felt reasonably normal. Thank you to my now outlawed nasal gel Zicam(®), I think. I really went down into depression land as well. I made the mistake that drawing class was meeting last Thursday but they actually met on Tuesday. I missed this weeks Tuesday meeting as well. Two weeks of missing drawing class bummed me. Friday group was cancelled for the 4th week in a row. The Gay Ctr. is still sorting their occupancy bs something or other. Missing group for a month has made me a little cauldron of rage. I did attend SOS on Sunday. While not as weird as the last one it was still a little off, owing to the holiday.


I needed something cathartic in lieu of group so we watched Joy Luck Club and sobbed incessantly

I actually sat down and thought about the calendar and my move home to Santa Cruz. Wow, 10 short weeks that will no doubt fly by. For the first time I started to feel very sad about the move. I've made a new best friend. The only singular meaningful connection down here and its really bumming me out the thought of going into a totally new environment. I know the reality of living on a huge beautiful university will be amazing and wonderful but I have such a hard time with seperation.


My perfectly respectable suburban Orange County 4th


The Crystal Cathedral was awash in American flags Sunday

There's nothing like a massive amount of caffeine to jolt you out of depression and out of the house. The weekend was weird and ended with me in a state of rage. Not a common occurence. Biggest lesson learned: do not bother to go out to a leather bar in LA, people are c*nts and not very friendly (you are not in San Francisco anymore).

Friday I had not received a call that group was cancelled and I conferred with Joe. The Gay Ctr. website said they would remain closed for another week. I decided this didn't apply to our special group and made my way down there to the new locale. Its in a much more gritty area in the heart of the latino working class Santa Ana. You wouldn't want to leave anything in your car at overnight. Still it was just a few stops past my old school and auspiciously across the street from a buddhist temple. I even gasho'd (acknowledged his potential to become a buddha by bowing with my hands together in prayer position in front of my face) to someone coming out and he returned the gesture along with a smile. There were many signs that the center was unoccupied. Joe showed up shortly after I arrived and came out to the street to greet me. I've mentioned before how Joe and I are able to communicate quite a bit in a tiny amount of time. He waited with me while I texted Lonnie to pick me up early. In the 20 or so minutes we were together Joe managed to communicate that the feelings he expressed of being ready to "graduate" from the group the last session we met had dissipated into what the f*ck am I doing spinning in cyclical circles. I told him I could relate. Save for the once a week I get together with my drawing class I've been re-visiting and sitting with much of the same feelings (albeit nowhere near the intensity) I've been pondering for the last year. When they tell you this stuff will come up and in no specific order its the truth. What can you do. I'm conscious that this may also be the darkness before the dawn. With all the anticipatory anxiety I have about returning home I know in my heart of hearts it will mean a return to life and a return to living. This is merely a hellish stasis in LA LA land.



Saturday we did something I quite enjoy but had not done since the fateful time the I accompanied Scott. Lonnie and I attended the screening of East of Eden in the Cinespia cemetery film series. Each summer this ornate Hollywood cemetery hosts an outdoor summer film series of classic films. They project on the wall of a masoleum and people picnic whle listening to DJ'ed music. Shortly before dusk the DJ played a raucous Michael Jackson tune and the large crowd raised their voices and danced boisterously. I mentioned that it was really bizarre to see hundreds of people dancing in the cemetery to Michael Jackson. They also did a montage for Farrah which I thought was pretty cool. One of the organizers shared some inside stories about James Dean and the actor who played his father. They hated each other apparantley. Kazan also got Dean good and drunk before the drunken roof scene.



Afterward we flew down to Silverlake to hear Peter Geokaris DJ at the Eagle. I know this area very well. I started going to Silverlake leather bars when I was only 15 years old. It was very David Lynch a la the movie Angel (schoolgirl by day hooker by night) for me to play in these bars at the weekend and then return to my suburban beachside orange county high school life during the week. As I got older Forrest and I would drive up together and pound 40 ounce beers in the scary dark alley behind the adult bookstore. I think we had fake ID's which would allow us to get into the infamous Club FUCK. The area has changed quite a bit. You no longer take your life into your own hands by walking from your car to the bars. Since it was after midnight it took us nearly an hour to find parking. Yet another reason which makes me hate So Cal. I was positively livid by the time we decided to give up. Lonnie drove me up to the bar so I could run in and tell Peter we couldn't find parking but lo and behold we found a space right up the street from the bar. We were in the bar for just a moment when Lonnie felt an intense biological urge. Long story short we gave up our parking space and drove miles away to find a facility. It was nearly 2 when we returned to discover they have bloody valet parking for a measly $7. By the time we returned it was ebbing down. I really wanted to support my long time friend in his first DJ spot but the crowd in LA bars is always so unfriendly and people stare at you instead of saying hello. Its always a huge gamble when you do speak to someone. You never know if you're going to get unabashed attitude, sarcasm, or just be ignored. There's always a thin veneer of mistrust though. This was surely the last time I ever go out in LA unless its something more along the lines of say Akbar. I realize our clubs and bars here are sophmoric and amateurish but I can deal with that. Live and learn.

This is where I spent my day today drawing bamboo. Not quite a red letter day but it was good to be with friends and I learned quite a bit about hatching and details


Sarah sat across from me. She was reading a feminist book about the beauty trap. She threatened to give it to her dad who has asked her to wear deodorant because she smells quite strong and au naturel.


You can't beat critiques in the bamboo classroom.

Our teacher is so totally turned on. Originally she told us she would gladly instruct us for free. Later she said she was advised she should charge some amount even a small one. Today when we met under the wisteria arbor, which was blissfully cool, she told us she was going to honor her original offer and teach us for free. She even put a $20 bill in the donation box at the arboretum entrance. We noticed there were all these velvety pea like pods hanging from the arbor ceiling. Someone joked about tasting them which lead our teacher to tell us a warning story about eating unknown plants. She prefaced that this was in the 1960's and involved a friend who liked trying strange new plants. This friend would later run off with Andy Warhol. Anyway the story involved some kind of poisonous plant from a neighborhood yard. Her friend had not eaten enough to die but it was enough to remove all her clothing and climb into a parked car where she was awakened the next morning and arrested.



I had this great feeling wash over me minutes after stepping off the bus into the arboretum lot. The 2 looong hours were completely forgotten as I noticed my favorite friends from drawing class assembled and waiting for me. The arboretum which abuts Cal State Fullerton is really lovely and low key. We had some instruction and lecture on using india ink, ink washes for adding value, and drawing with nibbed caligraphy ink pens. We were meeting for 3 hours but by the time I had drawn a few wisteria branches on my bristol board it was time to leave. For homework we were instructed to draw a detail of a plant in our home. I asked about drawing an ear of corn from the garden and my teacher loved that idea. Next week we'll meet on Tuesday and use the ink wash to add value for our palm tree pictures. The quality of the black ink and the variable lines give the images this striking life like quality. I am really thrilled about using ink which is funny cause its so much more permanent than graphite or pencil.