Tell Us About Your Pain

Not much has been happening in my world...  well, there is the part where I ended up in the ER on Sunday night, after several hours of intense pain at my sternum, & throwing up blood. After an ultrasound, endoscope & 36 hours of morphine... I gave birth to a little gallstone. I am so proud. I named it- Jonbenet.

After being admitted & brought into a small examining room, a nurse asked me:
"What do you want out of this visit?"
Me: "What do you mean?  Peace & prosperity for our world? Fame & success? Lunch?
Nurse (chortling): "Where would like to be at the end of this visit?"
Me: "Of course, sorry. I guess, I want my own sitcom, & when not filming, starring on Broadway in a musical or some classic...  how about being snowed at a mountian cabin with James Franco... Oh, do I get one more wish?"
The nurse wrote my final comments on a blackboard &the Husband took over the answering of questions.

I had a procedure called an Endoscopy. The technician called it a UGI, which I misunderstood to mean some sort of high school equivalency test, or possibly a labor union. The Morphine had me a bit beclouded & befuddled. The physician explained that I would be conscious for the event, but the drugs he gave me would cause a form of amnesia: "sort of like really strong Valuim". I believe that I ordered a shot of vodka; I didn't remember a single thing when I did come to. I am in favor of a drug the can erase the memory from a section of your life.

While tethered to the Morphine IV drip, all I had to do was ride out the diminishing pain, watch the ceiling tiles move around & study the signs on my hospital room walls. These were my favorite signs:

Pain Management Is A Patients Right (possible idea for sign at the next Tea Party Rally?)

Tell Us About Your Pain (do they really want my life story?)

The 4 "P"s: Pain, Privacy, Position, Potty (possible chapter title for my memoirs?)

Do Not Leave Alone On Toilet (possible Words To Live By?)

I received excellent care, although I was spooked that all the nurses were named Staci. I also had a visit from the chaplain who asked "If anything should happen, do you wish me to summon a priest?"  Me: No priest, but please do call the press!"

I had my own room, I got to have vegetable broth while watching The View, I had professionals fussing over me. I decided to pretend that I was at a spa. "Oh, Nurse Staci, would you please get me one of those amnesia inducing drugs & a shot of vodka before my colonic & pedicure?"



I am now resting at home, warm, cozy & loved by my little family.The Husband claims that the entire episode was my cry for attention.

The Autumn Of My Years... A Ramble On The Day Before Winter Solstice

"I'm In The Autumn Of My Years" but swingin' like Della

Today is the last day of autumn 2010. In 2 weeks, I will be ending my own autumn, as I officially will be in my late 50s. 2 weeks from today I will be in the winter of my life. I have lived longer than I ever intended to live. But, as Woody Allen stated- “It’s better than the alternative”.


The last 6 weeks have not felt like autumn, but rather like real winter. Living in the Pacific Northwest in December is not for the faint hearted. But, we are all steamed up at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. because tomorrow is not just the darkest day of the year, but for the 1st time since 1554, we will have a full moon experiencing a full lunar eclipse on the Winter Solstice tomorrow night. Portland is forecast to have clear skies, & I plant to witness this event, possibly with a whiskey in my hot tub.


In the beautifully written new volume in his- Tales of The City series: Mary Ann In Autumn, Armistead Maupin says- “The past doesn’t catch up with us, It escapes from us.” I have spent the last few days playing a- “if I just hadn’t done _______, then ______ never would have happened". More on the current situation in a post later this week, but I can say that I am at my lowest in the month of December. My depression deepens & a fog of melancholia creeps into my every wrinkle.

My feelings about Christmas are not simple. I had a happy childhood with more than 18 Christmases that were lovely, loving & lavish. As an only child of upper-middle class working parents & one of only 2 grandchildren of 3 sets of grandparents, I received plenty of presents, & because I was such a little adult, the gifts consisted of mostly books, record albums & clothing. I didn’t care much for toys until I became an adult.

Baby Butch as Baby Jesus 2010 edition

The Post Apocalyptic Bohemian Christmas Tree 2010

Now in the autumn of my years, I like to keep it a simple, as I consider all the people that go without at Christmas . The Husband & I stopped giving each other gifts over 2 decades ago. That is our special gift to each other. Our traditions include the presenting of Baby Butch as the Baby Jesus & our annual tree, cut down in the woods in bitter cold by the husband, brought home on top of the station wagon, covered in blue lights, & placed just outside of the backroom floor to ceiling window. The Christmas tree is close to the major bird feeder & often has 7 or 8 songbirds perched on the branches like glass ornaments. Our birds are well fed & on the plump side, but I can't deny them food & clean water.

The Goldfinch is the State Bird of Washington, so she may be a little lost. But who can blame her? & we are only a few miles from the border here in North Portland.

We will go to a movie on the Holiday; we are thinking about the 1st showing of The King’s Speech. Christmas evening will bring a fire in the fireplace & a prayer for peace & goodwill between all people. I would like to know your traditions. Would you share?

An Ode To Onanism

The Husband: “I didn’t want you to have to worry.” That was the explanation for why he didn’t tell me that he was leaving his job until the evening before his last day. Swell, & worry I did, but then I am a worrier. This was at the end of April, & I have become quite adjusted to the change, & I accommodated the his new life as a househusband & a freelancer. But, I have rarely been alone.

Anyone in my circle accepts that I require & yearn for time to myself. I am an only child of 2 working parents, & at 6 years old, I would walk home, let myself in to our home with my own key, & would then have 3 splendid hours with the house to myself. I still seek the solitude 50+ years later. For me there nothing so perfect as a rainy late autumn day with no agenda, no obligations & no company.

The Husband has been working a day here & there as a design associate with a lovely designer friend. They are doing 16 condos at Government Camp, on Mt. Hood. I arrived home at noon to find myself with the place to myself, with notice from the Husband that he was “at the mountain” & would be back in time to go to happy hour at the neighborhood watering hole.

An afternoon alone! Just me & my shadow. Me, myself & I’ll go my way by myself. I was unaccompanied, unaided, unassisted, unattached, unattended, unescorted, & unhinged. I immediately set out to behave in the manner that pleases me most & the Husband not so much.

The Husband likes the TV on, not just to view his favorite shows, but just on from waking to bedtime: old movies, HGTV, Ellen, Oprah, Joy Behar. He will be working on a house project or in his studio, but he finds comfort in the world of TV sounds. I am often around for the ride. When I am on my own it is no TV; I listen to music. I listen to “my music” & I play it loud. On my solo afternoon I behaved just as I wished. I turned off lights & lit candles. I cranked up the stereo, I danced around in my underwear. I sang along to the music. I ate half of a pot brownie & got seriously turned on, up & around. I spent time at the computer blogging, reading blogs, doing research, & because I was alone, I took a peek at some porn from that internet thingy. 

 I am really not a big porn guy. We have maybe 3 DVDs, & no magazines. In the1st 5 minutes of porn viewing & become powerfully aroused & supremely stimulated. At minute 6, I become soundly tired of the tease, blasé & disinterested. For me, porn is just pink, pink, pink, in, out &, in & out. Yet being alone, I felt I should fit in another activity that I have neglected since a certain someone is almost always on the premises. I made the decision to make love to that special one. Yes, an afternoon of self abuse! I would catch up on some long neglected whacking, knocking out the one-eyed champ, wrapping the presents, feeding the chickens, answering my bone-a-phone, blessing the alter boy, cranking the shank, Eberting my Siskel, doing the hand jive, holding the sausage hostage, making the bald guy puke, clapping with one hand, shooting without scoring, slapping the chubby, tossing one off, waxing willy, whitewater wristing, playing yahtzee, or my favorite- Uncorking the Champagne.

I checked out just a few more moments of some German Prison Porn, undressed & slipped under the duvet. It was considerably cold in the bedroom & I began by hugging & rubbing myself to warm up.

I placed the most depraved image in my brain & let the libido take over. I awoke to the gentle sound of the Husband’s greeting 4 hours later.

As if I am so boring & undesirable in bed, that I fell asleep at the 1st moment of foreplay. Even I don’t want to have sex with me! I indubitably feel rejected by myself. I patently promise myself to give me more attention & affection & try to recreate that voodoo that I do so well. I will start the titillation by sexting myself this afternoon. I never know when I will have an hour to myself again.






Great songs about masturbation:
My Ding-a-Ling- Chuck Berry
Darling Nikki- Prince
Orgasm Addict- The Buzzcocks
Dancing With Myself- Billy Idol
Blister In The Sun- The Violent Femmes
Praying Hands- Devo
Turning Japanese- The Vapors
She Bop- Cyndi Lauper
Pump It Up- Elvis Costello
Beat It- Michael Jackson
Thinking About You - Radiohead
Touch Of My Hand - Britney Spears
With My Little Ukulele In My Hand - George Formby
Ramrod- Bruce Springsteen
Miss Me Blind- Culture Club
Hit It- English Beat
Sugar Walls- Sheena Easton
Let’s Hear It For The Boy- Deniece Williams
Jack & Jill- Classic Nursery Rhyme
Oh, Come All Ye Faithfull- Tradition Carol

She Died With Her Boots On... Born On This Day- October 17th... Irene Ryan

I played a man from the time he was born until he becomes a father in a charming, 5 person musical- Whispers On The Wind. This was autumn semester, October- November 1976, my senior year at Loyola Marymount University in L.A. I really loved the cast, 2 of whom I worked with several times, & the piece was directed by my favorite professor with musical direction from someone that I adored. I found out much later that had been earmarked for the lead in the other fall show, Eugene O’ Neill’s- Ah, Wilderness!, but the show I ended up in worked out to be a special, magical experience. The musical was produced in the department’s smaller theatre & had a well received run, popular with students & faculty. I had a really lovely, smart role, with great solos songs that were tailor made for my singing voice & group numbers that were complicated musically, including unusual & tough harmonies.

That is your host, with the full head of curly hair!

Whispers On The Wind should have ended at Christmas break, but soon after the run, it was nominated as a finalist in the American College Theatre Festival. After the holidays, it was mounted again, this time on the main stage as a fund raiser for sending the show to the festival, held that year in Las Vegas. Icing on the cake... I was nominated for the Irene Ryan award for Outstanding Actor, a particularly proud worthy achievement, up against actors from UCLA, USC, Cal Arts & University of Arizona.

 Irene Ryan had established the award, a scholarship, in 1972, as part of the Irene Ryan Foundation of Encino, California, awarding scholarships to the outstanding student performers at each regional festival. These scholarships are made possible by the generosity of Irene Ryan who is best remembered for her portrayal of the lovable & feisty Granny Clampett in The Beverly Hillbillies (1962-1971), for which she was nominated twice for an Emmy.

 Irene Ryan found success in vaudeville, radio, film, television & Broadway. In 1972 Ryan helped to create & also starred in the role of Berthe in the Bob Fosse directed Broadway musical Pippin, in which she sang the number No Time At All, which mentions, "a man who calls me Granny". In 1973, Ryan was nominated for a Tony Award as Best Supporting in a Musical. In April 1973, Ryan suffered a stroke during a performance of Pippin. Earlier in the year, her friend & fellow Beverly Hillbillies cast member- Nancy Kulp, had tried to persuade her not to go to New York for the musical. She died soon after, at 70 years of age. Irene Ryan has a special place in my history.


The cast of Whispers On The Wind & my circles kept my ego my in check by reminding me that I had actually been nominated for the Irene Ryan Look Alike Award, & not the acting prize.

Don't Put Your Daughter On The Stage Mrs Worthington... Part 1 Of A Series

My parents claim that from a very early age, I would sing & dance for them & their guests, & I would point to the TV & announce that- “I wanna do that. I wanna be in the TV… & with Ed Sullivan!” The parents say that my big number was- Istanbul (Not Constantinople).


I wanted to be a performer. Other subjects held my attention, but I certainly set my heart on being an actor/singer/dancer/stand up. I started training when I was 5 with piano lessons. My very loving parents gave their blessing & paid for every lesson I wanted to give a whirl: cello, string bass, voice, tap dancing, fencing.

Destined for stardom, 2nd from the left-front row

I started grabbing every opportunity to show em’ what I got. My stage début was age 6, in my elementary schools holiday pageant, where I wowed the audience with my spry wit & star power as Jack Be Nimble. I played piano & sang at every school talent show. In 5th grade, as a boy soprano, I performed in my school’s production of Hänsel und Gretel, an opera by 19th century composer Engelbert Humperdinck. I played the Sleep Fairy (a role that would come back to haunt me, when later in life, I have been known to occasionally fall asleep during sex). I was told by my teacher that it was professional & polished performance, & that I was correct to be on a path to stardom.

At Sacajawea Junior High School, I broke away from any possible adolescent shyness by performing at an all school convocation of talent, with my dizzying take on a Going Out Of My Head/ Windmills Of Your Mind medley in my brand new tenor singing voice. The student body was speechless, startled, stunned, & stupefied by my mature talent & good taste. Those 2 songs remain in my repertoire.

Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington

Don’t put your daughter on the stage
The profession is overcrowded
The struggle’s pretty tough
& admitting the fact she’s burning to act
That isn’t quite enough
She’s a nice girl and though her teeth are fairly good
She’s not the type I ever would be eager to engage

I repeat, Mrs. Worthington, sweet Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage
Regarding yours, dear Mrs. Worthington
Of Wednesday, the 23rd.


Although your baby may be keen on a stage career
How can I make it clear that this is not a good idea
For her to hope and appear, Mrs. Worthington
Is on the face of it absurd
Her personality is not in reality quite big enough, inviting enough
For this particular sphere
Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage


She’s a bit of an ugly duckling, you must honestly confess
& the width of her seat would surely defeat
Her chances of her success
It’s - it’s a loud voice, and though it’s not exactly flat
She’ll need a little more than that to earn a living wage
On my knees, Mrs. Worthington, please Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage
Don’t put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage


Though they said at the school of acting
She was lovely as Peer Gynt
I’m afraid, on the whole, an ingenue role might emphasize her squint
She has nice hands, to give the wretched girl her due
But don’t you think her bust is too developed for her age
No more buts, Mrs. Worthington, nuts! Mrs. Worthington
Don’t put your daughter on the stage

Noel Coward
1933

I Love L.A.

Today marks the 229th birthday of El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula (The Village of Our Lady, the Queen of the Angels of the river of Porziuncola). Los Angeles & I have history. My father grew up in the Silverlake neighborhood, which at the time was quite nice, yet quite bohemian. When I lived in the city in the early 1970s, the neighborhood had deteriorated, but then the gays moved in & fixed things up as they do in most metropoltan areas & now it is inhabited by an eclectic community of hipsters, the creative class &  of course... lots of gays.

I went to college in L.A. at Loyola Marymount University. I lived in Playa del Rey on the strand. My apartment had sliders that opened on to white sand & the Pacific Ocean, with a view of Catalina on a clear day. My Los Angeles life, hardly ever involved L.A.. My universe was very beach & stretched from Redono Beach to Malibu. I frequented spots in Venice & Santa Monica. My friends & I would go into Westwood or Hollywood for movies & plays, but for the most part it was beach.

Loyola Marymount University... my alma mater.

Your Host, the Post Apocalyptic Bohemian circa 1974 with one of my dearest friends- Carolyn. The Afro was real, but tamed down in the 2nd photo when I was appearing in Private Lives. Noel Coward & Afros just did not work.

Recent archaeological studies show there was a culture in Los Angeles in 8,000 B.C. Mostly acting hopefuls trying to be seen by casting directors for the prehistoric version of pilot season. There was much disappointment & a certain amount of violence when it was revealed that film was 27 centuries away.


By 3,000 B.C. Los Angeles was occupied by the Hokan-speaking people of the Milling Stone Period who could sing, dance, act & gather wild seeds. By the time of the arrival of the Europeans in the 18th century, there were 250,000 to 300,000 people in LA., all trying to get their SAG cards.


Los Angeles is the 2nd largest city in the USA & has an area of more that 600 square miles. The urban area of Los Angeles extends beyond the administrative city limits with a population of over 18 million. It is the 14th largest urban area in the world. I love the city & I have watched the renaissance of areas that have turned around that I would never have dreamed possible: Hollywood, Downtown, & Silverlake, Glendale, & Venice.



Happy Birthday to the City of Angels. I will always love you: Tommy's Burgers, Hollywood, The Capitol Record Building, Santa Monica, Laurel Canyon, Griffith Park, Hollywood, Randy's Donuts, Rodeo Drive, Nate N' Als, Canter's, La Brea Tar Pits, The Getty, Venice Beach Boardwalk, Union Station, Watts Towers, Chateau Marmont,  the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel,  El Portal Theatre,  Palos Verdes, Swimming Pools, Movie Stars.