The Biggest Hole in Arizona

We went to this place called Kartchner Caverns yesterday that was friggin amazing. It’s this cavern system that is one of the largest in the US.

It was controled pretty tightly conservation wise. We had to go through 3 airtight doors and a misting system before we entered to cavern proper. You couldn’t take anything with you except the clothes on your back.

The volunteer/ranger duo who were our guides were comical at points, but mostly at points where they didn’t intend. Claudia and I giggled when they were describing the landscape because Chuck (the silent Bob of the duo) waved his hands and arms half-heartedly and imprecisely to represent the lay of the land up to the cavern.

When we got to the chamber with “Kubla Khan”, which was this huge column that stretched 58′ in the air, they tooled us around to all of these little view points, but I figured they were saving something up (considering I spied the big feature rising behind us in the dim cave). I turned to Clauds and said they’re going to give us the sound and lights treatment for the finale. Sure as shit, they sat us down and these speakers crackled to life with some sort of Clannad or Enya tune while timed floodlights came on and off illuminating the column in a number of different ways. I chuckled imagining adding lasers, smoke machines, and flash pots to make the limestone column even more rock and roll. Too silly.

The reason the formation was called “Kubla Khan” was because this cavern was kept secret for 14 years while formal conservation plans could be made and put in place in order to safeguard the location. The codename for the cavern in those days was “Xanadu”, and in the Cooleridge poem “Kubla Khan” was the ruler of “Xanadu”. So there you go.

10 years of Improvised Theatre and still going.

Here are some moments from the 10th anniversary party at the Brody Theater. It wasn’t a complete reunion, though. We were missing such notables as Lia Kohles, Steven Twelker, Nate Halloran, and Kate Poland who all have done a significant part in making the Brody name over the years. I miss them all dearly, and it would be nice to play with them again.

Oh yeah, I’m 36

Just had my birthday yesterday.

Now that I’m 36, I’m officially over the hill in gay years. Now I’m doomed to eternal daddydom. A majority of online personals adds that I’m interested in usually read “looking for under 35”. There must be some sort of drastic metabolic change that gay men undergo at 36. Anyone have any ideas what that could be? I’m open for thoughts….and dates. 😉

Thanksgiving in Arizona

I’m eager to experience a Thanksgiving somewhere other than Portland. I can’t wait to hang out with my gal pal Claudia.

We met ages ago (1992) and became friends one day by sitting on a straw mat in her kitchen and smoking pot and drinking tea all afternoon (as well as talking and laughing our asses off). It was the beginning of a beautiful 15 year friendship.

She came to visit me last year for Thanksgiving and I’m returning the favor this year. She told me she’s got the hot tub all ready, and we’re going on a cave tour. I cannot friggin wait. I hope it’s like the cave tour in League of Gentlemen. That would rock.

The Wedding Crashers II: Attack of Donny and Lola

[cue: slinky, slow saxophone music] Picture this, Marilyn Divine dressed in a leopard print skirt and top with a combo loepard, tiger spotted scarf. Her boots were these badass stilletos. I’m in this greenish shirt with a ton of tiny red and yellow dots. My tie is mainly burgundy with chocolate brown and dark yellow. However, printed on the tie are a tiger head in bamboo leaves, a panda sitting in the bamboo, and two other red pandas behind that one. She was my wife Lola, and I was Donny. We were posing as the wedding couple’s neighbors; “kooky” neighbors.

I told people in my happy agro voice that I was trying to go with Lola’s “Safari theme”. We had a great time tearing up the scenery. We were dancing a number of different places and going from table to table getting candy from the various BINS of candy on each table. It was at the Portland City Grill back in a private lounge overlooking the city. Pretty impressive actually. People bought it, too. It was a great way to spend an hour and get paid to do something outrageously fun.

After that, I jumped onstage for the last 3 hours of the improvathon, bringing me to a little over 12 hours of 24. What a hoot. I felt charged after that. Until the next day when I was attacked by ninjas and lay in a pool of blood near death until my roomates got home, bandaged me, and sought revenge.

The Wedding Crashers

So, here’s the deal. Myself and my friend Marilyn have been hired to be something of wedding crashers for this couple’s wedding this coming Saturday. They want us to pose as their old neighbors and be a bit ‘eccentric’ but not abbrasive.

We’re both so excited for this gig. I’m hoping it’s going to be hugely fun. We met the couple this past Saturday when they came to the show, and we chatted a bit. We’ll have another formal meeting on Wednesday to solidify things and get stories straight. They also want us to bring some wardrobe options to review for the proper level of garrishness. I’m fuckin stoked to get paid to do something like this.

The Internet and misunderstanding

Call me a luddite or an old fart, but I just have this general feeling that IMing and email have actually increased the amount and speed of misunderstanding between people.

It also feeds this paranoia I have of people being able to pose as something they’re not. After all, I have a few internet friends who think I’m a 16yo girl named “Flora” (kidding). Sadly, though, it could be true.

We were discussing this the other night, and a friend espoused etiquette as being that one should never have personal emotion conversations on email or IM. It should always happen at least over the phone. That was pretty sound, I thought.

The Hate-Fuck

Strangely, I’ve realised that one of my weird shock moves is something of a barometer of my mood. If I’m in an upswing, it occurs to me to occasionally break out the hate-fuck for comic purposes.

The Hate-Fuck defined: for the proper results on this move you need to have it follow a discussion of someone who is either mutually or singly disliked OR someone who is completely innocent (the former is for schadenfreude, the latter is for shock).  The actual move is merely a miming of forceful yet wooden anal sex coupled with an angry/enraged countenance and a drawn out, higher pitched, frustrated groan that is repeated with each thrust (think Harvey Keitel in Bad Lieutenant for the sound).

The Hate-Fuck demystified:  It’s sort of a literal representation of sexual-frustration, if one were to be Freudian about it.

I can’t decribe the feeling of terrible joy and relief that I’ve felt in the doing of such a move.  As Marilyn would say, I’m working my shadow.

PS – I’m not sexually frustrated.  It’s pretty hard for a gay man in Portland to remain sexually frustrated unless he stays under a rock, has scruples, or both.

Notes on Heroes from Garry Smith

“This need to escape via the hero has been described variously…as: an identity voyage, psychic mobility, and dream relaization.”

“[There are] three main directions hero worship can take: reinforcement, seduction and transcendence. Reinforcement keeps the individual within the social structure and directs him[/her] toward socially approved goals. Seduction keeps the individual within social bounds but tempts him[/her] to break the rules. Transcendence takes the individual outside of societal structure and provides him[/her] with a new identity, new experiences, and new norms.”

“The hero as a social model should be consistent in his[or her] behavior, and should be considerably better in a positive sense than most of the other members of society”

Taken from the article “The Sport Hero: An Endangered Species”