Author Archives: Robert

I just spent the last three nights in a hotel outside of Philadelphia.  A Comfort Inn to be exact. People who travel a lot have scoffed at my choice of accommodations but in all honesty, I have a philosophy about hotels; I’m unconscious ninety percent of the time I’m in one.  I don’t care about anything except a clean bed and a private bathroom.

My room had a TV in it (Yes, I know, they all do).  Most everyone who knows me has had a taste of my opinion about television.  I loathe it and find it alarming that monitors are popping up everywhere.  Last time Ray and I visited Lost Angeles, we went to a bar in Pasadena.  I forget the name of the place but I remember how cute it was.  Great lounge, nice furniture and a modest dance floor (OK, modest and dance floor hardly go together in a gay bar but I’m trying to set the tone here).  There was also a big shiny flat screen television mounted up high on the wall over the bar.  Everyone was sitting there transfixed like a gaggle of well dressed zombies gazing at the screen.  No one was making any sort of eye contact with each other.  There was no talking, no music and no laughter with the exception of the occasional outburst directed at the television.  Within five minutes, even Ray and I ended up just sitting there…transfixed.

Doesn’t that sound like a good time?

While in my hotel room, I found myself turning the on the TV every night. That’s not so bad except…I couldn’t turn it off.  What did I watch?  Everything and nothing—and now I have a whole new understanding of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder.  No wonder people have problems paying attention!  Everywhere you go, in people’s homes, in bars and in restaurants, there are TVs.  In some places they have multiple sets going all at once with different channels playing.  It’s total sensory overload.

I’d like to propose a new movement to the hospitality industry; Get hotels to offer No Television rooms.

Ring-ring
“Bonjour, Comfort Inn Paris (Hey, why not?), may I help you?”
“Yes, I’d like to book a room for the 16th of next month.”
“Great, would you like a single or double bed?”
“Single.  King if possible.”
“Smoking or non-smoking?”
“Non-smoking please.”
“Would you like a TV?”
“No thank you.  I’m trying to quit.”
“Very good sir.  We have you down for the 16th, king size bed, no smoking and no TV.”
“Thank you.”
“Au revoir”
Click

I know, I know; I’m living in a dream world—but it’s my dream world and I can make it whatever I want.

After three nights of TV at the Comfy Inn, I was ready to go home.  I got to the airport on time and waited by my gate.  I normally travel with Ray—actually, normally isn’t the word; I always travel with Ray who has flown over one million miles on American Airlines thus achieving a lifelong Grand Pooh-Bah status in the Frequent Flyer world.  When we lived in Chicago and he traveled a lot on business, we used to relax in the Admiral’s Club before our flight.  If he had a gazillion miles banked up and we had a nice attendant at the gate, he would occasionally upgrade us to first class.  We’re always in the group that got to board the plane first.  He (we) no longer have the club and the first class privileges but he is forever part of group 1 and since I’m with him I get to board at the same time.

The attendant finally arrived and started calling out groups.  Everybody got up and started shuffling towards the gate.  I examined my ticket.

I was group 6.

At first I was sort of let down, put in my place as it were.  Then I realized, the plane was going to take off at 9:20 regardless of who boarded first.  It really didn’t matter what group I was in and me being a total exhibitionist now had the opportunity to model my tight black t-shirt and fabulous knock-off Tumi briefcase down the center isle on the way to my seat. 

I was in 9F—a window seat.  The two people already snuggled in their seats reading their complementary shopping catalogues had to get up and make way for me.  You just know the guy in the middle was praying for the door shut so he could scoot over to the window.  I’m sure the lady in the isle seat was as well. 

I sat down and to my horror, noticed the couple in front of me had a baby with them.  The kid was OK during most of the flight but as the plane descended she got rather fussy and I got annoyed.  I hate screaming children.  In fact, I’m not of a kid person at all.  Her father (who was kinda’ cute) had her over his shoulder and was bouncing her up and down so basically her little screaming mouth was aimed directly at my head.

Then, something strange happened.  I felt a pang of empathy.  I smiled at the little girl.  Shot her a real big Cobban grin.  She immediately stopped crying and looked at me with her big beautiful eyes.  We connected.  We were online with each other.  I know babies don’t talk but I think they understand facial expressions so I gave her a “I know how you feel.  Your ears are all plugged up, huh?” look.  She seemed receptive to that.  I was amazed.  Were we actually communicating telepathically?

She started to fuss again.  Next thing I knew she was crying.  I thought “This doesn’t work.” but then I realized the pressure was still changing in the cabin and her little ears were getting even more plugged up. 

The flight attendant’s voice came over the PA system instructing us to shut down our electronic equipment. (I was writing this entry.)  I suddenly realized that when I blog, it’s a form of communicating what was happening in my life.  The little girl’s crying was the exact same thing but on a much different level.  Her experience was having an effect on her ears and to communicate how she felt she did the one and only thing she knew how to.  She screamed.  It was like she was doing a live Podcast.  I had a whole new respect for the little girl and her crying ceased to bother me which is totally unusual.  I admit whole-heatedly that I am a very selfish person.  Suddely I was feeling compassion for this…this…baby.  Could it be, that at the tender age of 41, I’m finally growing up?

I’m in Philly attending a webmaster’s conference.  My brain has taken in so much information that it’s about to explode which would be kind of like a popcorn kernel popping.  Most of what’s up there is air. 

Aunt Leona had a grand mal seizure last night.  Ray is on his way back to Chicago as I type this.  I’m in the “Cyber Cafe” at the conference trying to print my boarding pass to catch my flight tomorrow. 

Speaking of Chicago, my friend Colleen is getting married in a couple of weeks.  That will make three trips to my old home town in one year.  This morning they announced where the next conference will be.

Chicago.

I’m OK with that.  I love my old home town.

I hope to write another post soon.  Perhaps having the house to myself for the weekend will allow mt to compose my thoughts and write something interesting…

Ray was cutting my hair last night.  I was feeling restless.  In an instant, the clippers were at my upper lip and the remnants of my stache littered the bathroom floor.  I don’t know why I did it.  I think I just wanted to be someone else.

There is a fork in the road ahead of me.  Recent events have opened my eyes to the fact that life is not all about quantity in cars, money and people, it’s about quality in mind, body and spirit.  Some of these events are rather personal and I do not care to disclose them to the world on my blog.  Others are out in the open, most notably, watching friends and family deal with illness such as cancer.   All the while, the media is still obsessed with Britney Spears and that pisses me off more than anything. 

What are our priorities?

While living in Chicago or LA, it was easy to go out and experience fellowship with other gay men.  Bars, parties, and open minded churches were just around the corner.  Once Ray and I relocated to Arizona we quickly found out the price you pay to live in a remote area is a shortage of good restaurants and an occasional yearning to simply chat with other like-minded gay men. 

God bless the Internet.

Right after we moved here, I happened upon a gay chat site.  It was basically like a MySpace or Facebook for gay men.  I uploaded a few photos and wrote a little blurb about myself and much to my surprise, about 10 minutes after posting the info, my little mailbox icon was flashing.  Someone was saying hello!  I was hooked.

At first, it was a bit awkward to tell someone the funny thing your friend in Battlebro, Vermont said because you’d inevitably be asked how you knew each other.  There have been times where I’d ask a newly coupled pair–gay or straight– how they met and they’d always lower their voice, look left and right to make sure the coast was clear and say “We met chatting online.” 

Actually, there’s nothing wrong with chatting online anymore–unless you do it too much.

With all these things going on around me and the fact that I had turned into an online barfly, I decided to make some simple changes in order to focus on a personal challenge.  I deleted several online profiles and made an effort to get in better shape by being more active–which means not sitting in front of the computer all the time.  To make this task even more intense, and significantly reduce caloric intake, I have decided to abstain from drinking alcohol for nine months.  Why nine months?  Several reasons, but most importantly, it’s the perfect gestational period for one to reinvent himself. 

There are too many things I want to get done right now and I have a big project at work that needs my undivided attention.  Less booze and more activity will surely help in my quest for physical tonality and mental clarity.  I am at a turning point in my life where I need to make these things a priority otherwise it’s just going to get more difficult.  It is my responsibility to to take care of myself now so that I’m not a burden to my family and the healthcare system in the future–assuming there will still be a healthcare system.

Not sure I like being stacheless though.  Might have to grow it back.

Ray and I just returned from Prescott to see the unveiling of a mural.  Margaret Dewar, my first cousin once removed–whom I will just refer to as my cousin–was the assistant director and one of the the main artistic contributors.  She, along with project director and fellow contributing artist, R. E. Wall (R for short), unveiled the “Art For All” mural located at 109.5 South Granite Street (Northwest Corner of Parking Garage) in Prescott, AZ.

It is utterly amazing.

I’m not just saying that because Margaret is my relative.  It really is an important piece of work. The mural celebrates the Heritage Heroes of Prescott and emphasizes the power of art and self expression.

I whined in my last post because I was freaked out about what I thought was a large project at work that was visible to the entire county.  The scope of their project put me in my place.  This mural had a teeny-tiny budget and took two and a half years to create.  It was made possible by local artists, grants, museums, schools and businesses.  All people enlisted to help were referred to as Mural Mice. 

The mural project surveyed the community for ideas and people submitted pictures and letters.  Mural Mice spent months at the Sharlot Hall Museum Archives gathering information about the artists from Prescott to add to the mural.  R. and Margaret designed three murals for the community to choose from.  A free election was held for the public to vote, offer suggestions and give feedback.  On April 5th, 2006, the “Art for All” mural became the first community infused and democratically elected mural in Prescott history and on September 15th, 2007, the mural was officially dedicated.

Since I could not photograph the entire mural, here are some detail close-up shots:

Me and Maggie (with her mural mice ears on).

To be honest, when I first arrived in town, I really expected to see some cute little painting on a wall somewhere.  I was totally blown away not only by the mural but by the tremendous work that went on behind the scenes.  I’m fond of my cousin Maggie and the Mural Mice and I’m beaming with pride at their accomplishment.  Now if I could only get her to come visit Bisbee…

Some of the info in this post was taken from the dedication brochure. Click here to see the Prescott Downtown Mural Project site.

I woke up feeling sort of down yesterday.  It’s so funny because I ask myself  “What’s the matter with me? Why to I feel so out of whack?” Then I remember there is a lot going on right now in my life.

My mother is having knee replacement surgery today
My uncle has been given a few months to live
Ray’s aunt (who I am close to) had surgery to remove cancer this week – she’s been in hospital since February.
My dad has two types of cancer going on
I have a ginormous monumental project going on at work which will have an effect on the entire county in which I live so it better be perfect
My finances are a bit strained (for now)

I know some people may read this and say “Yeah, yeah, yeah everybody has problems.”  I understand that.  It just seems to have hit me hard over the past few days.  Not to mention there’s some other minor personal stuff that I don’t care to broadcast to the world.

Guess I just have to keep moving.  Just got back from a two-mile run.  That seems to help.  Off to the shower and then to work. 

Going to Prescott tonight to see my cousin’s kid’s (1st cousin once removed? Homer, help me out here.) mural.  Will return with lots of happy pictures!

My friend Lesley is a little bit creeped out by certain members of the critter family.  As noted on my previous post in the comment section, it’ll probably be a while before I can convince Ms. Crankypants (Lesley) to come West for a visit to Stolen Horseshoe. 

Lesley, this is for you…

I’m furry and cute!

This little guy was hanging outside the master bedroom patio when I got home from work today.  He was rather patient as I collected my camera and positioned myself for a good shot.  So patient that it made me wonder…am I becoming the photographer of the Middle of Nowhere?  Did Mr. Snake tell Mr. Tarantula,  “Great headshots at the Shu–he’ll put ya online.”

Some people may be a bit creeped out by this unassuming visitor.  I’m not.  Hell, I grew up right next to Tarantula Hill.  I think Mr. Tarantula is quite beautiful actually. 

Gives ya a sense of scale huh?

I so did not want to post a bit about the tarantula on the patio right after the snake in the front entryway but…that’s just how it is here at Stolen Horseshoe.  I just have to tell it like it is.
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This just in:
Minutes after posting my blog entry, I happened upon this sinister creature in the office by Ray’s desk. 

Not crazy about this guy.

Sucked it up with the vacuum cleaner. 

Maybe he just wanted a photo posted online…well, he got one alright.