12/25: "You're just not my keg of beer!"

-To set the stage briefly--I spent this Christmas with my little bro and my mom, my first without Dad (the divorce papers got signed on Monday) and my older bro (the East Bay has claimed him.) Because Pops is no longer embodying Santa, and because my mom is both too modest and too broke to fill her own stocking, Santa-for-Mom duty fell on me this year. It's one thing to give a gift, but, I learned, another entirely to fill someone's stocking and write a note in elaborate curlicue handwriting, especially when the someone has been doing the same for you without an expectation of the same in return for 22 years. Who knew the Magic of Christmas ACTUALLY EXISTED?

-I got some yarn, and I'm making a huge Norski-style stocking cap that says "(Isherwood/Auden protege and current favorite poetical read) THOM GUNN IS NUMBER ONE" on it and has little men holding hands with little hearts around them.

12/23: "No, YOU be Rosemary Clooney!"

-I spent about half an hour watching Human Rights Campaign news reports with my boss and making fun of how all the reporters had severe underbites. This job rulez.

-I'm going out for soul food with the Bartons. I plan to flame like a roman candle and make them glad again that I used to date their son.

12/21: "We'll do what we can."

-After a total non-day of sleeping and grumping around, Lucas and I hit the Barmuda Triangle for some happy hour action. Ninkasi Believer pints at Jameson's for $2.75? Almost makes up for the shitty atmosphere, which resembles the set of a bad Christmas movie, where the characters are alcoholics and hang out in this weirdly lit bar with green and red lights, but also bad paintings of aliens and skulls. Their special was something called a "dirty girl scout", which I imagine involves creme de menthe and olive juice. Also, one of the bartenders at the Horsehead is basically like if David Crosby filled his mouth with dried apples.

-Post barring, I finished Billy Budd, which was kind of chilling and made me feel connected to queens of yore, but also didn't hit me as hard as it could have maybe, Ninkasied as I was.

12/20: "The intersection of 'faggoty' and 'hip' is usually...Patrick?"

-I ditched the annual Christmas Caroling party thrown by one of my oldest family friends because I wasn't in the mood to explain the Russ deal and/or be with older hippies, so I stayed home. This involved:

--Drinking an Iron Butterfly (I'm looking at you, Jon Schill.)

--Figuring out an ass-rocking version of "Dirty Old Town" on mandolin and harmonica.

--Going over to Jame's for hot buttered rum and dancing to Kylie Minogue. How much better can things get?

12/17: "Pissing in Peace"

-So much has happened (in that not much of interest has happened) since I came home. Since I'm at work right now, I think I might just write various things, and not necessarily good things; just an update, likes.

--My laptop became infected a few days ago, though apparently my bro's girlfriend is an IT genius, so I may have to get on the phone to my own private Dehli.

--Speaking of Gus Van Sant references, I saw "Milk" last night with my mom. Of course, it was fab, the kind of thing that makes me proud to be a gay man. My main beef with the film was the alleged "love scene" that people seemed to be so up in arms about. Out-of-focus Sean Penn's back and James Franco looking really uncomfortable? You call that steamy? My only solace was a poorly-lit Diego Luna ass slap. Anyway, I never thought any film character so a) reptilian and so b) martyred could be so weirdly attractive. Not since Beaver Trilogy has ol' Pennywhistle scaled such theatrical heights.

--I've been volunteering at the Community Alliance of Lane County, which essentially boils down to hanging out with old lesbians and calling the city manager's office, demanding an emergency shelter for homeless families (because it's been fawking cold around here and people have literally been freezing to death in the streets) and getting nothing. Barf.

--I ate some fucking amazing fish and chips tonight.

Hopefully now, and once my laptop is lapping up my top again, these updates will be significantly more frequent and hopefully more hilarious.

12/4: "Garden Meat"

-I gave an interview to a pretty cool kid today. She told me about collecting insects, and how she got really excited when she found a flea.

-I'm reading Seamus Deane's Reading in the Dark for Annabel's class (and enjoying it more than I should, considering I have so much else to do. It's (big fucking surprise based on his debilitatingly Irish name and the distressed photo of sad children on the cover) a semi-autobiographical novel about growing up poor and Catholic in Northern Ireland in the 40's and 50's. Being of easily-inflamed Irish Catholic descent, you may imagine how into this I'm getting. And it turns out that UNCLE EDDIE WASN'T REALLY AN INFORMER; HE WAS SET UP BY GRANDFATHER!!! AND DA DOESN'T KNOW!!!!!!!!1!

12/3: "I could like, study Latin and shit."

-I read a lot about the Council of Trent, which, in my sleep-deprived state, I kept imagining as a conference table of Trent Pollards with all of their giggling bellies and scruffy beards and ridiculous barbed wire tattoos.

12/2: "I had to clean it off myself!"

-This has been a pretty shit day, except:

--There were fries for lunch.

--I read about early Christians and how much they hated marriage, and then proceeded to talk about the supposed mystical powers of the virgin with B. Pietras.

--Annabel didn't mind that I turned a paper in a few hours late, and pitied me kindly because I have a raging migraine.*


*This one is projected.