I have had the most incredible stay-indoors weekend. I hosted my last couch surfer before the VIFF begins in 11 days. She was Debra, a self-proclaimed born-again Christian four years my younger from Amarillo TX, who had been traveling a month, pet sitting and staying with other couch surfers. She was referred to me by Nathan Day, a gay couch surfer I hosted last December. He was her first couch surfer.
As different as our backgrounds are, I grew to like Debra quite a lot and want to keep in touch with her. Her age, being closer to mine, is one reason but also her willingness to expose herself to gays to make a more informed opinion about whether or not we are as evil as her dogma has taught her. She did her very best to keep herself open to all the people she met through me. I have not met anyone before her who was distraught over the election of Obama.
And she met several people through me, a wide spectrum of the men who comprise my life, including Frederic (Friday night), nephew Richard (Saturday afternoon), Doozer and Yves (Saturday night) and Rosario, who dropped her off at the bus depot on our way to brunch Sunday morning. She enjoyed meeting them all as far as I could tell.
I think I have her hooked on Settlers of Catan (she won her first game) and she had once done stained glass and had lots to ask about my work too. She was very interested in how each of our families and co-workers reacted to finding out that we are gay. She herself had once led a very wild life full of partying and dealing drugs before turning to Christianity to save her from herself, as is often the reason for such a large transformation. It seems to have worked for her but has not closed her off from ideas and situations that challenge her dogma.
Our time with Frederic on Sunday night was wonderful, a dinner at Kam's Singaporean Restaurant, and afterwards I presented him with token gifts to celebrate him being granted permanent residence status last week: a bottle of maple syrup, dried Saskatoon berries, a book called How To Be Canadian and a maple leaf pin. I reassured him that it was better to celebrate his landing now before Eric gets his landing so that we have reason to celebrate twice.
Richard was brimming with ecstatic stories of his time at Burning Man, most of which we spent stoned, drunk or both. He swears he remembers it all and only puked once. He says it was the most wonderful event of his life so far and definitely plans to go again next year. He said the place was full of gays and had his ass pinched by guys more than ever in his life. He was most impressed with the nudity he saw though: so many beautiful young women dancing semi or totally naked.
Doozer arrived around 6, in time to eat dinner with Debra and I. He bought corn and salad ingredients. Debra contributed two meat pies and I heated some butternut squash soup. It was a great meal. Doozer slept in my bed. He had no other choice but had no problem with it, unlike his husband Flash or our former Polish friend Michal Rogozynski. He cuddled with me most of the night, which was sweet as honey. He wore his sweat pants to bed and made no romantic gestures, which was a bit regrettable but probably for the best. He was up at 6am to off to the bus depot in a taxi before 6:30.
Brunch was at Danzante and Gerry's. Rosario came in from north Surrey to bring Raspberry Showboat, Holly and myself there. Rainbow Strongheart was already there and Paul McGrattan, freshly back from a year in the Maritimes, showed up a while later. The meal was incredible. Rosario brought a delicious curry dish and a hot chutney, Danzante had made bread, spreads and a baked salmon, Raspberry a salad and myself a dozen eggs to stir fry with basil and tarragon, and Holly a fruit pie. It was more than filling. Afterwards we talked in the living room, my head on Rosario's lap as we cuddled, caressed and held hands. After Rosario and Rainbow left, Gerry cleaned while the rest of us played Settlers of Catan. Danzante drove me home afterwards so we had quality time alone. I got back less than an hour ago.
It's raining now, as it has been much of the weekend. I am tired and mellow, feeling as smooth as an ironed sheet and grateful for my life. There have been many wet weather weekends in my past when I have had next to no contact with friends and accomplished nothing, but this was not one of them.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The War on HST
The Harmonized Sales Tax (HST) that the Liberal government effected July 1st has created the largest democratizing reaction in our province of this century so far. Ironically, it has been spearheaded by Bill Vander Zalm, the disgraced former Premier who was driven from office by scandal in the early 90s. He remains a catalyzing force for the common man and, for the first time, for both the left and the right wings of the political spectrum.
The BC government responded to earlier opposition to the new tax with a proverbial shrug, saying there is nothing they can do since it is based on federal legislation. That argument made no sense from the start, because the legislation requires initiative on the part of provincial governments to implement it. Gordon Campbell's Liberals have made it clear, repeatedly, that they want the new revenues in spite of popular opposition.
Where residents of Ontario passively accepted the new tax, BC residents have not. One of Campbell's cabinet members has already resigned from cabinet over the issue. A non-binding petition held in most ridings across the province, submitted to Victoria at the end of June, was large enough to demand that the government either rescind the law enacting the tax or to press them into holding a province-wide referendum. The Liberals have deferred the issue until a binding referendum is held next September, hoping to convince the general electorate using public coffers that HST is not a bad thing beforehand.
That doesn't seem to be the way this will unfold. The Anti-HST Campaign plans to keep the public attention focused on defeating the Liberals by organizing a recall process against Liberal politicians who voted in favour of HST. It will be the type of circus the media loves, bringing down a big prey, and that will build momentum to defeat the Campbell government in next year's referendum. Ironically, it was Campbell's government that brought in the right to force referendums and to recall politicians and we will have our first chance to see how it works by using these tools against him.
I love this type of democratic exercise, when the populace awakens to who really controls the pedestal of power. At these rare points, all citizens who feel disempowered or disrespected by those in power band together to bring them down. The cantankerous political right-wing voters who love to hate big government, the typical supporters of Campbell's anti-socialist government, will gladly help teach him a lesson. This is the phenomenon that I have often tried to explain to Danzante, that Canadians are unforgiving of politicians and governments who step out of line.
"To destroy a political power completely, you must first elect it." - A Canadian adage
The BC government responded to earlier opposition to the new tax with a proverbial shrug, saying there is nothing they can do since it is based on federal legislation. That argument made no sense from the start, because the legislation requires initiative on the part of provincial governments to implement it. Gordon Campbell's Liberals have made it clear, repeatedly, that they want the new revenues in spite of popular opposition.
Where residents of Ontario passively accepted the new tax, BC residents have not. One of Campbell's cabinet members has already resigned from cabinet over the issue. A non-binding petition held in most ridings across the province, submitted to Victoria at the end of June, was large enough to demand that the government either rescind the law enacting the tax or to press them into holding a province-wide referendum. The Liberals have deferred the issue until a binding referendum is held next September, hoping to convince the general electorate using public coffers that HST is not a bad thing beforehand.
That doesn't seem to be the way this will unfold. The Anti-HST Campaign plans to keep the public attention focused on defeating the Liberals by organizing a recall process against Liberal politicians who voted in favour of HST. It will be the type of circus the media loves, bringing down a big prey, and that will build momentum to defeat the Campbell government in next year's referendum. Ironically, it was Campbell's government that brought in the right to force referendums and to recall politicians and we will have our first chance to see how it works by using these tools against him.
I love this type of democratic exercise, when the populace awakens to who really controls the pedestal of power. At these rare points, all citizens who feel disempowered or disrespected by those in power band together to bring them down. The cantankerous political right-wing voters who love to hate big government, the typical supporters of Campbell's anti-socialist government, will gladly help teach him a lesson. This is the phenomenon that I have often tried to explain to Danzante, that Canadians are unforgiving of politicians and governments who step out of line.
"To destroy a political power completely, you must first elect it." - A Canadian adage
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sunday I walked down to the main office of the Vancouver International Film Festival to buy my gold pass to this year's festival, which starts on Sept 30. It was hassle-free and the newly repaired sidewalks down Davie to Seymour St were smooth and easy, but coming back was another story. I had brought my cane, thinking I would need it on the uphill trip home, but my right arm was so weak that it was practically useless. At a couple points I had a real struggle to make the grade, especially beside the Scotia Bank Dance Theatre and crossing the lane ways where the sidewalk ramps and uneven asphalt made each step precarious. I had to take baby steps, inching my way onto flatter ground bit by bit, careful to keep my balance at every point.
I was aware of many eyes watching me to see if I needed help or if I might fall, trying to make sense of my predicament. I have learned to ignore them and to try to appear calm so not to alarm them. Regardless, the trip home was very disconcerting. I have always managed this stretch of road better, and I had hoped it would be easier this time with recent ramp improvements. Back home, I felt the echoes of past feelings of horror and despair returning. Clearly, I won't be able to master these simple challenges much longer. The day that I will need a scooter, the day I have resisted for so long, is drawing closer.
Breathe deeply and exhale slowly. Dispel fear from my heart. There is only the present. All else is illusion. Life is a wondrous miracle, not a threat.
I was aware of many eyes watching me to see if I needed help or if I might fall, trying to make sense of my predicament. I have learned to ignore them and to try to appear calm so not to alarm them. Regardless, the trip home was very disconcerting. I have always managed this stretch of road better, and I had hoped it would be easier this time with recent ramp improvements. Back home, I felt the echoes of past feelings of horror and despair returning. Clearly, I won't be able to master these simple challenges much longer. The day that I will need a scooter, the day I have resisted for so long, is drawing closer.
Breathe deeply and exhale slowly. Dispel fear from my heart. There is only the present. All else is illusion. Life is a wondrous miracle, not a threat.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Our evening's entertainment
I've spent the past hour watching the first part of Julie & Julia. It is a good film, true, but one should never watch cooking movies, if there is such a genre. Gawd nose how many paychecks will be ruined in the coming months while I experiment in the kitchen, and while I stock my kitchen with the correct utensils and appliances. I burn with shame to think I have never owned a mortar and pestle or even a knife sharpener.
Dean and Brian are still suffering the effects of the time change to the We(s)t Coast
Dean and Brian are still suffering the effects of the time change to the We(s)t Coast
The morning after
The problem with bed bugs is more psychological than physical. After being bitten a few times I become 100 times shy. Throughout the night, whenever I woke, I imagined the little fuckers crawling on me. My ankle was suddenly itchy as hell, but there were no bites I could feel after I scratched. It was nothing more than the prickly sensations one gets when he gets too hot. Even sitting here typing this, still without clothes on, I am too warm and I can imagine them crawling on me, which they are not. I tell myself they are no worse than mosquitoes, and I have heard they carry fewer diseases, but somehow they creep me out so much more. It will take me the whole week to convince myself I'm not being bitten, but I passed the first night on the living room futon unscathed.
Brian and Dean took me out for a Greek dinner at Taki's Taverna last night and afterwards I stayed home while they went out to the Pumpjack Pub up the street. They came back a couple hours later, still a little exhausted by the 3-hour time change. They bought a shit load of groceries before dinner, and ground coffee after dinner, so I suppose we are eating in this morning. At 7:45 am it is still grey and dull so I doubt Dean will have his day on Wreck Beach as he had hoped.
Brian and Dean took me out for a Greek dinner at Taki's Taverna last night and afterwards I stayed home while they went out to the Pumpjack Pub up the street. They came back a couple hours later, still a little exhausted by the 3-hour time change. They bought a shit load of groceries before dinner, and ground coffee after dinner, so I suppose we are eating in this morning. At 7:45 am it is still grey and dull so I doubt Dean will have his day on Wreck Beach as he had hoped.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Futon wrestling
It started a week ago when my most recent romantic disappointment Randy spent the night at my place. He came over when his work ended at 8pm. I had dinner ready for him, we made out and cuddled. At 11:30 I needed to sleep as I worked the next day. He needed to snack before bed so I helped him get a bowl of cereal going. While I tried to sleep he went poking through files on my computer looking for porn. Finally at 1:30 I told him he had to come to bed if he was staying as I couldn't work with sleep. He obeyed and within a few minutes was snoring so loudly that I wished I had left his surfing for porn.
I retreated to the living room to sleep on my sofa-bed futon and it was there I got a small cluster of bed bug bites an hour of so later. That kept me up most of the rest of the night. I had a bed bug infestation last October and had to buy a new mattress and box spring set. I bug-proofed them with plastic slip covers and have been free of the little bastards since then, but not before I became fully cognizant of what their bites are like.
I thought the living room futon would be safe from infestation since it is rarely used and the bugs are primarily attracted to where people sleep. If the futon wasn't already too infested I needed to seal it right away, especially since I'd be sleeping on it 10 days later for a week when Brian and Dean arrived from Toronto.
So last Saturday I acted. I had it through the shopping crowds and construction zone on Robson to get to Sears and back to buy the slip cover. When I got home I spent half an hour just staring at the futon, wondering how I would begin, since my balance and strength are so tenuous now that I can fall over carrying a 5 kg bag or groceries. I needed friends to help me, I knew, but it would be better to get the cloth cover off first. I wouldn't want to keep them waiting while it was being washed and dried.
Clinging onto furniture and pulling at one corner of the futon, I was able to drag it onto my small living room floor. I braced myself on whatever I could while I reached down and unzipped the cover around three sides and was able eventually to free it from under the weight of the futon. I was wet with sweat by the time I got it off. I searched around the inner zipper and around the corners. I found one large adult bug but no signs of any nests. If there were any in the linen cover they would be killed by the hot water and heat of the dryer which they are very susceptible to.
Once the laundry was going I put my futon and pillows in the dryer on hot and called my friends. No one was home except my friend Fred who normally works at his restaurant job on Saturdays. I was lucky, he said, because he is off work due to a back injury. He was determined to come over and help me but I really didn't want him to hurt himself with the heavy futon. I decided to do what I could before he arrived.
I shook out the new plastic slip cover and opened its zipper. If I was very careful, I told myself, I would be able to get the first bit of the cover over one end of the futon. Even trying to squeeze between my furniture and the futon on the floor was a serious challenge, but after a few failed attempts I was able to get the cover over two corners at one end. I was soaked with perspiration again. I stood back feeling a bit proud and encouraged. Well maybe I could just tug the cover on a little further, I said. It was worth a try. I succeed a few inches on one side so I did the same to the other side. Then I rested. As long as Fred isn't here yet I could do a little more, I told myself and half an hour later, wet and exhausted, I managed to tug and wiggle the cover over the entire mattress and zip it up. The next step was easy: I grabbed a chair and scissors and sidled up to the futon to cover the zipper with duct tape.
That took about 10 minutes. I felt somewhat rested and further encouraged. Fred was taking loner than I expected so I dug the freshly cleaned linen cover out of the dryer and lined it up over the futon. I had no idea how I could possible get it on as it zipped on three sides. Well, I'll zip up the first corner and try to get around the matching corner of the futon, I decided. That worked. A few minutes later I had succeeded in sliding some of the cover under that end of the futon and zipping up that end. Inch by inch I slowly closed the zipper on the second side. I found a way to prop myself up against a low bookcase and lift the futon half way and tug the cover through. Pulling the cover under the futon enough to zip it up was the hardest part. It took several minutes of vigorous yanking before I could close it completely.
Now I really was exhausted. The only thing left to do was to lift the futon onto the frame, something I knew would be impossible for me even with Fred's help. It would be the best way for him to re-injure his back too. I thought about it while I rested. I tugged at it until it was lined up in front of the sofa frame and stared at it some more. Then I got the bright idea to sit in front of it on a chair and lift the near end a few inches at a time, then holding it in with one hand, shift my chair in closer. Step by step, I moved in closer and the end of the futon rose in front of me, then folded over on itself against the front of the frame.
Maybe, I thought, I could keep lifting it and pushing forward and the mattress would roll over onto the frame. It was much easier than I thought it would be. In only a couple minutes it was on top of the frame, but too high up. I tugged the bottom edge of the futon towards me and it slid perfectly into place. I stared at astonishment at what I had done. When Fred finally arrived I was beaming with pride and he was duly impressed.
That was a week ago and Brian and Dean have just arrived. Now if only the plastic cover works!! I'll find out tonight.
I retreated to the living room to sleep on my sofa-bed futon and it was there I got a small cluster of bed bug bites an hour of so later. That kept me up most of the rest of the night. I had a bed bug infestation last October and had to buy a new mattress and box spring set. I bug-proofed them with plastic slip covers and have been free of the little bastards since then, but not before I became fully cognizant of what their bites are like.
I thought the living room futon would be safe from infestation since it is rarely used and the bugs are primarily attracted to where people sleep. If the futon wasn't already too infested I needed to seal it right away, especially since I'd be sleeping on it 10 days later for a week when Brian and Dean arrived from Toronto.
So last Saturday I acted. I had it through the shopping crowds and construction zone on Robson to get to Sears and back to buy the slip cover. When I got home I spent half an hour just staring at the futon, wondering how I would begin, since my balance and strength are so tenuous now that I can fall over carrying a 5 kg bag or groceries. I needed friends to help me, I knew, but it would be better to get the cloth cover off first. I wouldn't want to keep them waiting while it was being washed and dried.
Clinging onto furniture and pulling at one corner of the futon, I was able to drag it onto my small living room floor. I braced myself on whatever I could while I reached down and unzipped the cover around three sides and was able eventually to free it from under the weight of the futon. I was wet with sweat by the time I got it off. I searched around the inner zipper and around the corners. I found one large adult bug but no signs of any nests. If there were any in the linen cover they would be killed by the hot water and heat of the dryer which they are very susceptible to.
Once the laundry was going I put my futon and pillows in the dryer on hot and called my friends. No one was home except my friend Fred who normally works at his restaurant job on Saturdays. I was lucky, he said, because he is off work due to a back injury. He was determined to come over and help me but I really didn't want him to hurt himself with the heavy futon. I decided to do what I could before he arrived.
I shook out the new plastic slip cover and opened its zipper. If I was very careful, I told myself, I would be able to get the first bit of the cover over one end of the futon. Even trying to squeeze between my furniture and the futon on the floor was a serious challenge, but after a few failed attempts I was able to get the cover over two corners at one end. I was soaked with perspiration again. I stood back feeling a bit proud and encouraged. Well maybe I could just tug the cover on a little further, I said. It was worth a try. I succeed a few inches on one side so I did the same to the other side. Then I rested. As long as Fred isn't here yet I could do a little more, I told myself and half an hour later, wet and exhausted, I managed to tug and wiggle the cover over the entire mattress and zip it up. The next step was easy: I grabbed a chair and scissors and sidled up to the futon to cover the zipper with duct tape.
That took about 10 minutes. I felt somewhat rested and further encouraged. Fred was taking loner than I expected so I dug the freshly cleaned linen cover out of the dryer and lined it up over the futon. I had no idea how I could possible get it on as it zipped on three sides. Well, I'll zip up the first corner and try to get around the matching corner of the futon, I decided. That worked. A few minutes later I had succeeded in sliding some of the cover under that end of the futon and zipping up that end. Inch by inch I slowly closed the zipper on the second side. I found a way to prop myself up against a low bookcase and lift the futon half way and tug the cover through. Pulling the cover under the futon enough to zip it up was the hardest part. It took several minutes of vigorous yanking before I could close it completely.
Now I really was exhausted. The only thing left to do was to lift the futon onto the frame, something I knew would be impossible for me even with Fred's help. It would be the best way for him to re-injure his back too. I thought about it while I rested. I tugged at it until it was lined up in front of the sofa frame and stared at it some more. Then I got the bright idea to sit in front of it on a chair and lift the near end a few inches at a time, then holding it in with one hand, shift my chair in closer. Step by step, I moved in closer and the end of the futon rose in front of me, then folded over on itself against the front of the frame.
Maybe, I thought, I could keep lifting it and pushing forward and the mattress would roll over onto the frame. It was much easier than I thought it would be. In only a couple minutes it was on top of the frame, but too high up. I tugged the bottom edge of the futon towards me and it slid perfectly into place. I stared at astonishment at what I had done. When Fred finally arrived I was beaming with pride and he was duly impressed.
That was a week ago and Brian and Dean have just arrived. Now if only the plastic cover works!! I'll find out tonight.
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