Monsters & Gardens

Certainly my garden is fertile because I grew up in your neighborhood.

Thank you, Fred Rogers.

Constant Crows

Matt Alber is a singer songwriter gifted beyond measure, and a true sweetheart. I've had the chance to meet him in person a few times now, and whenever I do I'm at a loss for much to say except "Thank you for singing my heart." I suppose that's because I too possess 'a high propensity for making poetry out of every shooting star...'

He always says "I wanna be a Killer Bee!", and I always say "Matt you are a Killer Bee." Then I go find a polite corner and dissolve into a puddle.

Back when I featured a review of his first full length album "Hide Nothing", this blog was barely a week old. The disc had just come out and I was thoroughly enchanted by it. Since then I've moved twice, Cassandra's become a television star, and Matt's now living on an island off the Pacific Northwest Coast- high on love and the release of his latest collection of lullabies for grown folks. SHAME on me for taking so long to give his gorgeous sophomore release "Constant Crows" a proper plug!

Rather than review it, I will simply encourage you to visit his website. There you can preview the whole, glorious thing in it's entirety- and then purchase it of course!

http://www.mattalber.com/

"Quote, Unquote" #10: Love Lesson

Thank YOU, Phillip Spooner

This blog has never been, and never will be a forum for politics.

At the same time, this isn't a gay blog. And it it won't ever be that either. My homosexuality is but a mere component in the totality of me. However this blogmaster happens to be gay, and June is Gay Pride Month...and my LGBT brothers and sisters are in crisis mode once again.

Politics, especially in this current climate, are ego driven and divisive. There are thousands upon thousands (literally) of blogs out there where you can find content to get righteous about (either way your pendulum swings)- but it won't be here! I really don't have the spiritual constitution for the rhetoric anymore. I do my homework and I vote my conscience. If it's a debate you want you'll have to engage someone who needs to be in a superior position.

It doesn't really matter what your religious or political views are when it comes to equal rights. There's supposed to be separation of church and state in this country. If your reasons for continuing to fight my rights are religion-based, that fact alone should settle the debate. And yet sadly it doesn't.

I have many straight friends (and a few gay ones too) who vote differently than I do. Of all the people you know, I might just be the coolest with that.  However the politicians they cast their votes for are often the same ones with voting records and agendas that are clearly in conflict with equal rights. Note that I said EQUAL, not gay rights. I would like you to consider that if these politicians are doing what they can to make sure my rights are usurped or diminished (and believe me, they are)-  yours could be next. 

It could happen to you...

Do your homework, vote your conscience.
It's 2012 for crying out loud.



For more information and to see what you can do...
www.hrc.org

ALL IN THE FAMILY

Originally posted November 2010


I was born into a relatively small family, with each a brother and a sister, and just 3 cousins. Well, technically there are 2 more, but we don't talk about it...

Anyway,  my siblings single-handedly repopulated our  tiny family by bringing forth 9 of the brightest and most beautiful human beings I have ever had the privilege to meet. They are now grown, and starting families of their own. I can hardly believe it, but  I'm a Great Uncle 7 times! How could a person be any more fortunate you ask? Well, I could have 2. Families that is...

When I was 14 years old, my friend Mandi Kent introduced me to an young man named Bobby Herd. In his early twenties then, I don't quite remember how she knew him. But that introduction changed my life. I was a misfit. A big, gay misfit growing up in a small farming community,  and Bobby took me under his wing.

That Christmas he invited me to a party that he and his roommate Lisa were throwing. This would not only be my first "adult party", but it would also be my first gay party. I asked if I could bring my friend Joel, who was the only other gay person  I knew. Bobby graciously said yes, and I spent the rest of the week fretting over what I would wear. I settled on a crisp red and white striped shirt with black jeans and a black vintage polyester country western vest from my Mother's closet, finished off with a pair of black ankle boots. My hair was bleached blond and permed. The year was 1985, and as it turned out, I wasn't the only misfit in town...

That chilly December night on Bunny Street, I would meet Stacey. And Bill Tomasini. And a cornucopia of other characters who would over the years become my other family. Maybe our bonds were (are) so strong because of the circumstances that brought us together, I don't really know. I just know that I am as blessed to know them, as I am my own blood relatives. 

Eventually most of us flew the coupe. I was the first to migrate to the Midwest from California. Over the years Todd, Teresa, Cindy and Mac, and eventually Stacey would  move here too.Some planted roots, others kept traveling. Scott moved to Washington. Lonnie to Kentucky. Of course we lost many in the war...

It was several years ago now that Cindy first had the idea to coordinate a Santa Maria Reunion. The idea would get tossed around by Stacey, Cindy and myself frequently, but the logistics seemed daunting. Then last Winter, those of us who hadn't stayed in as close a contact started finding each other on Facebook. Suddenly the idea of us convening from all over the country seemed plausible. One night while Stacey and I were having dinner in my apartment, talking about how wonderful it would be to see everybody again (after in some cases 15 and 20 years) and he said, "Let's just do this already!"

I spent most of my childhood plotting my escape from Santa Maria. I said on many occasions that once my Mother passed, I would have no reason to ever step foot on its soil again. When I arrived the last weekend in June, it was indeed the first time I'd been there since she left us 4 years ago. I didn't drive by the old house, or by my old schools. Attached to those places were the emotions that  had kept me away for so long, and it was  truly time to let go of those grievances. In doing so I was able to enjoy this extraordinary experience, and come to the realization that you really can go home again...and with a little advance notice, your family will always be there.

Here's the video guys, hope you like it!


Santa Maria Reunion 2010 from Michael McKinley on Vimeo.

Where Are They Now?

 Whatever became of The Killer Bees?

Good question!

We got 6 new additions this past week to our Facebook Fan Page.
Welcome aboard  Phillip, Mauricio, Brian, Garrett, Marion and Greg!

I'm ever astounded at this internet marvel, and always so curious to know who you all are and how you stumbled upon us! According to the Facebook stats, you live in 18 countries around the world. I don't recall seeing Nigeria or Turkey before, but I do now- HELLO to you! Help yourself to the honey.

Hard to believe, but it's been over a year now since Cassandra and I filmed her last season of This Is What I Know So Far. Of course there's been allot going on between there and here, and you know my girl keeps busy co-hosting her ever-popular morning television talkshow,  REAL MILWAUKEE!

As well, it's been a year now since Stacey and I filmed the last edition of Stacey's Hot Dish. The back to back editing of those last 7 episodes nearly did us both in.

Cherrie's been busy promoting her amazing Bubbles, Ink. ...

Though we've been away we have not strayed far, nor have we forsaken thee!

Our technology for creating seemed to go sideways all at once, preventing filming of anything for quite some time. I'm still not thrilled with the new editing software (or the replacement camera for that matter), but I'm finally back in business and happy to announce that as soon as Cassandra and I can coordinate some time, fresh vignettes of her uplifting vlog will premier on Cassandra McShepard Television. Stacey and I had a chance to chat recently about the 2nd (Official) Season of Stacey's Hot Dish , and he's got some great ideas (and recipes) in store for you too. I'll give you a clue- more out of the kitchen and ON LOCATION!

And me?

Well, I contribute when I can.

There's so, so much more that I'd like to do with my little slice of cyberspace.

The time involved in finding the positive stories I  used to feature here, in conducting the Q&A's- in making all of it happen, is what usually leads me to default into writing about my own life experiences. I appreciate that some of you glean entertainment value from them, but quite frankly I spend enough time with me- and would much rather be sharing other people's stories and experiences.

I mean, that's what this was always supposed to be about.

I hope to return to that model this Summer.

If I'm absent for periods, don't send out a search party.

Hopefully I'll be filming and editing with Cassandra and Stacey, or blowing fresh bubbles for Cherrie. I also intend to steal a few rays while the sun is high in the sky, and regroup...and hopefully bring you a little more of what you knew before. I'd like that, I think you will too.

In the meantime Bee good Beezers, and remember to KEEP ON POLLINATING!
Michael

I WANT To Be Alone?

The Spinsterlicious Life

Always one to provide us with a fresh and thought provoking perspective on The Single Life, Cherrie Hanson's review of this eye-opening new book by Elanore Wells is as intriguing as the book's title.

 Check it out at CHERRIE BOMB!

Musical Treat Of The Week

My obsession with Robyn continues...

"Quote, Unquote" #9 Once In A Rare Million

 

 

“It’s a strange thing, how you can love somebody, how you can be all eaten up inside with needing them — and they simply don’t need you. That’s all there is to it, and neither of you can do anything about it. And they’ll be the same way with someone else, and someone else will be the same way about you and it goes on and on — this desperate need — and only once in a rare million do the same two people need each other.”   

- Madeleine L’Engle

"Quote, Unquote" #8 The Remedy

"We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty."
 

~Mother Teresa

WORDS

How are you using yours...?

Musical Treat Of The Week

Le Grande Adventure

When my dear friend Jeffrey suggested that we go to to Europe for my 40th birthday (and much needed vacation for both of us) I was once again forced to acknowledge that I have the finest, most generous friends in the world- you see my airfare would be a gift. Big 4-OH, don't you know.

Months of anticipation and building excitement ensued.

Those of you inside The Hive know the story well, but for those of you who've recently tuned in, my passport went missing- literally on my way to the airport! Go ahead, gasp and scream. I did. The trip had to be rescheduled for 5 months later. So instead of making my friend William an American-style Thanksgiving dinner, I'd be catering his birthday garden party. Also, I'd be flying solo in London for a week, with Jeffrey joining me at then end for an additional Paris excursion! London and Paris both on my first trip to Europe? Thank you Jeffrey.

Months of anticipation and building excitement ensued.

Much like just before my first attempt at departure, I was fractured and frenzied  in the weeks leading up to it. Getting my house ready for the newspaper photo shoot, and preparing the shop for a 2 week absence was a grueling tour de force on my behalf... gently reminding me that while I still have the stamina- I have to reach a little deeper for it these days.

SO! With one too many suitcases, my passport strapped to my nether-regions, and 3 hours sleep, I set forth on my first trip to Europe.

For a boy who grew up on the backside of a broccoli field on the central coast, this was the stuff that dreams are made of...

 

Mind The Gap

I've never been able to sleep on airplanes, not even all the way to Indonesia. I think it has something to do with allowing myself unconsciousness amongst hundreds of strangers. It must be subconsciously disconcerting. The Target brand sleep aid and a fistful of Valerian barely made me drowsy. The flight was thankfully pleasant and uneventful, if lacking in sleep. Before I knew it, I was on British soil. Hello Heathrow!

Once I got my bearings (and my luggage) I sat down for an egg & cress. Well I had to! Let's just say the rarer an airplane meal becomes, the less discernible it's chemical makeup. Besides, it was still only 7:30 in the morning and I would be unable to check into my lodgings until 3pm. I needed sustenance!

After doing a bit of battle with the automated ticket/pass machines and resolving myself to a 30 minute wait in line to get my Oyster card from a live person, I found myself on a city train bound for Cockfosters. Seriously, I'm not making that up. The first Britishism I encountered was the recorded voice of a lady telling me to 'mind the gap' between the train and the platform- at each and every stop the train made on its trek towards central London. Of course we'd say 'watch your step'. What I'd stepped into felt like an alternate universe.

Upon Arrival

Once I was all settled into my cozy (read tiny but sweet with the LOVELIEST staff) digs at the the charming Victoria Inn & Pub, it was time to shower away 3,904 miles (or 6,273 kilometers, 3393 nautical miles) and get ready for my first proper meal in London. I'd basically been up for a day and a half. Buses, planes, and  trains-  and now explicit walking directions for a 15 minute by foot trek through the south-suburban enclave known as East Dulwhich? Oy! Yet its amazing how the adrenaline of adventure can propel you forward, no matter how crispy one gets around the edges. Agreed?

When I arrived at my destination I found the warmest, tidiest, and charming  flat. Much like my host.

William was preparing a stir fry for my inaugural feast, and rather excited to tell me that his brother Joe who heads up the CBBC (Children's BBC) was going to be on the nightly news! With mere hours under my belt I was already brushing with British celebrity. Or at least their relatives. This was going to be an exciting week.

The dinner, conversation, and Joe were all brilliant.

What a way to cinch up the journey there, and kick start all that lie ahead!

On my walk back to the Inn the following night, I came across a city fox. Gorgeous little creature, about the size of a medium sized pooch, but slender and sleek. Well, like a fox! He seemed rather tame and unafraid of me, though I felt more than cautious for the both of us. I said hello, and asked him if he'd had a pleasant evening. Before he dashed away, he made deliberate eye contact with me, which felt like an "on purpose" acknowledgement of my presence. Not just on the street at 11pm, but there- in ENGLAND.

We met up nearly every evening on my way back from William's. I'm telling you, that fox knows things about me...

Bob's Your Uncle

William (who was also on vacation) was the most gracious ambassador I could have possibly asked for. I had told him in advance that I wasn't necessarily interested in seeing London from a typical tourists perspective, but rather through his eyes. His London. I suspect I got a bit of both.

London is an extraordinary city, of course steeped in a history that profoundly shaped the world we live in today. Fascinating and factual, but not nearly as compelling as the energy of the people living there today, or the place itself. I knew long before I arrived that I'd love it. I just didn't know how much. 

I suppose my Mother was a bit of an Anglophile. BBC programming on our local PBS station at home was almost always on the television growing up, and as soon as she heard she could get BBC America via satellite, there was a dish strapped to the roof. Growing up with so many British voices in my ear, I thought I had a pretty good handle on the lingo. Not even close.

When I say alternate universe, I only partially jest. I mean, if I had been in Russia they too would say the same things, in a different language! This was like learning English all over again...only allot prettier on the ears. I wasn't there long enough to acclimate to cars driving on the left or the drivers being on the right. But calculating the exchange rate in my head came rather easily, and paying to use public toilets was a breeze once I remembered to always have the proper coins on my person. Spend more than a penny, I did.

We walked allot, which was grand because I spend so much of my life with my ass firmly afixed to a desk chair, and certainly there's no better way to absorb all that majestic architecture than on foot. Mostly in the pouring rain, but I minded not. Truth is I saw and did so many wonderful things that first week-  far too many to go into here. I will simply suffice it to say that thanks to William, in London I was happy as Larry.

Cheers, Mr. Godwin.

Orange People

Years ago when my nieces and nephews were all on Myspace (You remember Myspace, don't you?) I set up an account to keep up with them and their lives. I didn't have it for very long and I only made one non-family connection. It was with a gentleman from England named John. We were a "musical match", both of  us listing Kate Bush and Barbra Streisand as our primary musical favorites. Unusual combo, no? When I closed my Myspace account we followed eachother to Facebook. Over the years our correspondence was breezy and casual if not infrequent, yet there was always something that kept us bonded 'beyond Barbra'.

Once night when I was still living in Chicago, I had a dream that I was at an airport service counter and John was working behind it. I remember that we were very excited to see eachother, but beyond that not much. I wrote him the next morning to tell him about it, and announced that I was certain we'd meet some day...

I was warned in advance that Manchester would be full of Orange People. The equivalent of the folks from Jersey Shore or if you live in Wisconsin, Green Bay. I was pleasantly surprised otherwise.

My early morning train ride from London was rainy, contemplative, and gorgeous. Staring out the window of my Virgin Lines train, I found the English countryside  to be just stunning, even with the mustard fields drenched in rain. John met me a the oldest train station in the world, and shared with me a gorgeous city that in fact reminded me much of Milwaukee. We window shopped,  coffee-d, had an amazing Italian lunch (I might have had a cocktail), and we talked about so many things- not to mention BARBRA! The highlight of the day however, came in the form of an unexpected gift.

I don't recall that I had ever had any kind of lengthy conversation with John about spirituality before, but suddenly he was on a mission to find a bookstore. There was a book that he said would be "An interesting read on spirituality from an English perspective." Its called 'Living Magically' by Gill Edwards, and trust me kids, you'll be hearing more about it later...

We wrapped up our day excursion by having a lovely tapas dinner.

I may have enjoyed a glass or two of wine.

I spied nary an Orange Person in Manchester, but I did have the most magical day.

Later that evening as I hugged John goodbye and climbed on board my return train, I couldn't help but think about turning dreams into reality. We were once acquaintances reaching through the ethers of space, and now we're friends. Thank you John. For arriving, at each and every stop. And for the book...it's blowing my mind.

Oui

Jeffrey arrived one week and a minute after I did. After brief introductions and a trip to Sainsburys for a load of groceries which nearly deposed one of us from William's petite car,  he threw himself into helping me prepare the feast for William's Birthday Luncheon. We minced, we chopped, I roasted and braised, I baked a cake. I may have a had a glass or 2 of wine. Again, sustenance. I can feel you judging me.

I may have bragged a bit about my kitchen skills and now I needed to deliver. The pressure was on.

The weather which had been soaking us all week was now threatening to dampen William's garden soiree. In fact the day before, he sent out a memo warning his guests that this festive afternoon event could quickly turn into a dine and dash if the weather didn't hold out. He needn't have worried.

Each and everyone of William's friends was an absolute delight. Believe me there was no shortage of warmth or humor in this crowd! Once I had the food square, I could finally sit down and mingle.The sun came around to sparkle in the sky and make everyone wince because our eyes had grown unaccustomed to it's glare. We laughed, told jokes and stories, noshed on mini pasties and grazed on not one but 2 birthday cakes as it was Ralph's birthday as well.

It was a lovely, lovely day, and the crown jewel of my entire trip.

Before we knew it, the afternoon which had been months in the planning had come and gone, and there were just 4 of us left. Jeffrey and Clive kibitzed in the sitting room while William and I did the dishes. Before Jeffrey and I headed back to the inn to collapse and to plot our final day in London, we sat and enjoyed one last round of excellent conversation over that DELICIOUS Fortnum & Mason tea. 

It was hard to believe that my time in London was ending. Hadn't I just arrived?

When I was a teenager my Mother remarried, and my stepfather (read creep extraordinaire) had a stash of OUI magazines that he made no attempt to conceal from my virgin eyes. If they'd been a stash of Honcho's I might have been more intrigued. But I digress.

I know the same 6 French words that all Americans know. Oui, naturally.

If I had not been traveling with someone who knew French, I likely would have immersed myself in a copy of French For Dummies ahead of time. Since Jeffrey speaks some French, all I needed to do was smile and say "Merci!" most of the time. No work at all. That's why its called a vacation.

On the train to Paris Jeffrey informed that the French really pronounce it 'whe' not 'weeee'. Whe rhymes with meh. Read that how you like.

April In Paris

The train ride to Paris was speedy and so civilized. That little tunnel they dug underneath the channel awhile back was a brilliant idea, if I do say so myself. We may have stopped in the club car for cocktails.

Our room at the boutique hotel  Le Relais Saint Charles was an exquisite jewel (read tiny but chic and really well appointed). And each morning we enjoyed the most decent "continental breakfast" I've ever encountered. I went expecting  glorious pastry, Paris delivered the goods. Oui!

Honestly the Paris leg is such a blur. I was far more of a tourist in France.

The Eiffel Tower, The Louvre (I saw that little tart The Mona Lisa and her cheeky smirk!), Notre Dame, Bassilique du Sacre Coeur, and I do believe that we crossed every glorious bridge that arcs La Seine Magnifique...all in the driving rain. We also spent quite a bit of time turned around, which truly was fine with me because I saw more of Paris "off the beaten track" than I might have otherwise. Sometimes being lost  is a good thing. Oui!

We had all of the glorious restaurants in Paris to dine in, yet each night we ended up back at the brasserie next door to the hotel. It was a tich rowdy, wonderfully authentic, and had divine vittles. We may have shared some wine...Oui!

Merci, dear Jeffrey. Merci.

Au Revoir

 

My temperamental (read piece of crap) little camera once again proved to be unreliable, so there's little photo documentation of Le Grande Adventure. I'll simply have to savor the snapshots of my memory. And there are dozens upon dozens of them. I'll remember forever how it rained, and rained...and rained. If  I'm honest, it rained a bit on the inside too. Upon returning home (via the most painful airport dash in recorded history) I have to admit that I wasn't sure if I felt cleansed, or soggy. Maybe I just needed a few days to dry out.

Since I returned home a week ago, many have asked for tales of my adventure. I've put off sharing them, saying that in a nutshell it was "A journey of many discoveries." After crossing that ocean I can tell you that the biggest discovery of all is that life's greatest adventures lie not in the journey, but in the heart. I'm ready for more.

I'll see you on the street Mr. Fox.

The Numbers Are In!

Now that I'm back, everyone (probably even you) wants to know with whom my loyalties lay. I've been thinking about it. My conclusions aren't exactly like Sophie's Choice, but  here's the skinny...

ARCHITECTURE: Paris. I was blown away by the stately, historically impressive architecture of London for an entire week before arriving in Paris.  I couldn't believe how distinctly different they were, and I must admit that I was smitten with every over-the-top, filigreed and festooned inch of Paris. Ooh la la indeed!

STYLE & DESIGN: London. I've never seen so many stylish people in my life. I was hard pressed to see a dirty shoe or coat that wasn't cut at exactly the length of the moment. And my Lord, the Interior Design boutiques! Paris was good for refurbished antiques, but London had everything else. I went to Designer's Guild kids. Yes, the Designer's Guild...

NOSHES: The vote gets split here. Fanfuckingtabulous  in both places, and I refuse to pick favorites. Forget everything you've heard about the banality of English food, I beg to differ. My hopes however, aren't nearly as high for Ireland...

WEATHER: London. Okay, so it rained all but 2.5 days of the entire trip. And London probably has an unfair advantage because  I was there several more days than Paris...but at least we had sunshine for William's birthday party in the garden...and that day we put on 6 1/2 miles by foot scouting nearly every museum in town! With a trusty brolly, there's nowhere a fella can't go.

COFFEE: Paris. It's the French Roast, baby. Au lait!

PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION: London. I'm a man who lives by public trans (and the kindness of many) so it was interesting to see how 2 of the most complex and comprehensive systems in the world would measure up. London's, once you get a handle on it, it nothing short of brilliant.

   

The PEOPLE: Oh, London! And by a long mile. It wasn't just a barrier of language, its that Parisians truly seem to be missing  their "joie de vie". I honestly never saw such a miserable looking lot in my life. The only people I saw in Paris who seemed to possess any trace of joy were the tourists, and perhaps that's the problem. I can't imagine living in the most visited city in the world, nor would I care to.

In sharp contrast, I'll never forget how perfectly delightful and kind the Londoners were. Or the pleasure I had in making some wonderful new acquaintances and friends. William, Robbyn, Alex, Steve, Sian, Hannah, Ralph, Joe, Jo, Manuel and Clive. Especially Clive.

I couldn't have known, but you don't visit London for its extraordinary museums and culture, certainly not the weather, or even its luminous history. You visit it my gentle bleaders, for the people.

Musical Treat Of The Week

This may be the first time I've ever posted an "audio only" musical treat. George's recent recording of Lana Del Rey's 'Video Games' is haunting, and I still can't get it out of my head weeks after hearing it for the first time. Its from his upcoming release of covers. We'll be waiting patiently...