Categories
Dogs Malibu Rant

For Sale

I showed the house for the first time yesterday.  A Persian man who lives not far from here.

He was looking for a cheap house as an investment.  I really don’t care who buys it.

I spent the morning rearranging.

I rearranged the furniture so the dining area is set above the sitting room on the terrazzo plinth.   It looks great.  I used the black leather chairs that I bought for ElCerrito Place.  I tried using the Morrison chairs but they looked too complicated.  Compromised the aesthetic.

I am going to sell my Jasper Morrison dining room chairs.  They are now stacked outside looking really forlorn, they need to go else where..where they can be loved.

Had tea with JA in West H’wood yesterday.  Everybody is in such a funk.  Things have ground to a halt.  Is this just on the West Coast?   Nobody knows how to crawl out of this hole?  Maybe we don’t crawl out of anywhere but learn to live with new parameters.

Popped in on Trevor at the bottom of the canyon to see the young doe that the coyote had savaged in his garden.  It was all gnawed at.  Its tongue sticking out.  Trevor’s wife was a bit pissed that I had made the effort to see the dead deer but not their new baby.  Sorry Jen.

Meg Whitman the ex Ebay CEO is running in the Gubernatorial race here in California against Jerry Brown.  She has spent over $119, 000, 000 of her own money on her campaign.  She becomes the largest self-funded political candidate in history.

Yet all of this might come to naught if her ex-maid and nanny of nine years Nicky Diaz Santillan swings the vote.   Nicky’s story is a familiar one in California.  An illegal immigrant (undocumented) who worked hard for Meg and her husband is cruelly let go when she asks for help to become legal.

“Thown away like trash.” she sobbed on TV.

The latino population in SoCal will take notice.  They know what that feels like.  To be part of a family, whether Witman’s or family USA only to be thrown away when things get tough.

The economy in this part of America has relied heavily on the cheap labour that these illegal immigrants offer.  Making the rich richer, they are hard-working, uncomplaining people.  I have employed Spanish-speaking men at the local labor exchange and they work tirelessly in scorching heat, lugging great hessian bags of garden waste up and down the mountains like donkeys.  I don’t ask any questions.  Nor do my neighbors.

These latino workers have no expectations, except to be treated poorly by white folk like me.  They don’t have much choice.

When they do not get treated poorly they are grateful and go the extra mile.

The truth is, frustrated white people in the USA very begrudgingly gave up their slaves so having illegal Mexican immigrants who do as they are told for very little somehow placates their desire to be slave owners.

White people may say they are pissed off by illegal immigrants yet I don’t know any one of them who would be prepared to do what these people do.  Washing up, gardening, busing, etc.  Menial tasks.  White people wouldn’t know how.  They don’t know how.

We tried to import a bunch of colourful faces into the UK to do the same during the 1950’s but they opened corner shops and restaurants and got richer than the people who imported them.  Anyway, we had colonial apologists who refused to see these people used like American white people use Latinos.

Thank GOD for bouts of socialism.

I could bang on about the racism that exists here but I can’t be bothered.

White people are hurting.  They have lost their jobs and their homes. There is no industry.  They can’t seem to relearn working skills and get humble and wash dishes for other white folk.  The dream is dead.  Arianna Huffington is on TV telling people that America is a Third World Country, that the middle class is over and that the American Dream has been compromised.

Similar circumstances existed in Germany before the second world war.  Crippling debt (war reparations) unemployment, hunger, desperation, hopelessness.  Do not underestimate the gruelling effect of hopelessness..regardless of how comfortable you are if you feel hopeless your view on the world changes.  It gets easy to blame the immigrant, the jew, the gay…the innefectual black President.

I pray that I am wrong but given the current state of the USA, these extreme economic circumstances I am guessing that the people of America will, come the next election, elect a far right, socially conservative Palin type President who will irrevocably damage the entire world.  We are desperate for strong, innovative, modern leadership yet it seems that only the far right have the balls to serve what the people hanker.

We are witnessing the cynical destruction of the USA as we, and millions before us, dreamed it.  It is a crying shame.

By the way.  Rich Sanchez the latino CNN host fired this week for saying that Jon Stewart was pompous and that the media was controlled by the Jews.  Well, that’s how it was reported.  Not quite the way he said it.  Actually he said he felt bullied by Stewart, looked down upon.  That people like Stewart look down on latinos..and he’d be right.  I am sure what he felt about Jon Stewart may very well be right.

I rather like Rick Sanchez.  Isn’t it amazing that Sanchez can get fired for saying two rather obvious things (one an opinion and one true) and that Glenn Beck gets to say terrible shit everyday but nobody lifts a finger?

Willie just took a huge dump on the carpet…nice.  Thankfully I know how to clean a rug without resorting to calling a maid service.

Categories
Malibu

14 Years Sober Today

There were many times when I was with him that I wanted to drink.  Not because I wanted to get drunk but because I wanted to be where he was.

I didn’t want to feel apart from him.  I wanted to share his experience.  Our experience as he experienced it.  Making love after a couple of glasses of wine.

Wanting so much to feel that warm glow that I remember being ever so slightly tipsy affords me.

So glad I didn’t.  Could you imagine giving up sobriety for him?  For anyone?  I shudder when I think about it.

The desire to fit in never really goes away.

So, yet again, fate has been kind.  I’m lucky to have escaped without totally ruining my life.  I’m telling you if I was drinking now I would never be able to deal with half of what is being thrown at me.

Even though we have been estranged.  My relationship with AA has really been the best thing that ever happened to me.

Even though I don’t want to believe it.

My relationship with LA AA has been particularly beneficial.

Going back to my 7am meeting in the Palisades.   That’s why I’ve been waking at 5am, write this blog then schlepping down the mountain to that little room.  It was the men in that room that persuaded me to move here to California.  After a couple of years of getting involved I stopped going.  The personalities there started to annoy me.  I stopped listening.  So, this time, I have been pretending I don’t know anyone.  Like it’s my first time.  Listening for the similarities, going back to basics.  Relearning the language of AA.

It has been a time of great reflection.  AA birthdays always make one think of how life might have been if I hadn’t stopped drinking.   Good God.   I was always so angry.  Every day.

My anger is so destructive.  I wonder if it has anything to do with that massive head injury I suffered when I was a kid?

Even though you might not believe it, I really hate me when I am angry (really hate me) and as you have seen these past few months I am not well served when I get angry.  Letting myself down like that.  Love, it seems, not only brings me sorrow but makes me very angry.  Angry is not the man I want to be.

My real father was a very angry man.  Not my step-father.  My real father was pathologically angry.  My step-father was just frustrated by me. If I hadn’t been around he would have been much calmer.  Probably.  There I go again, letting him off the hook.

So, I shall be off in a minute.  Making my entrance again with my usual flair.

I had my Manhunt date Number Seven last night.  It was lovely.  Let’s see what happens.  I told him about the blog and (you wont believe this) I decided that after this entry I wouldn’t write about what happens between us.  Do I wish I hadn’t written about Jake?  No, he deserved it.  To be written about.  But, I may have learned my lesson.  Some things just need to be not written about.

I’ll tell you this before I keep my mouth shut:

We walked up Abbot Kinney in Venice.  We ate at all the food trucks.  It was really, really sweet.

The house is now officially on the market.  First viewing today.  I am in two minds.  Part of me doesn’t want to sell.  Part of me is desperate to.  I will never have the opportunity to own such a gorgeous house ever again but buying a small place in NYC is perhaps a better idea.

Jerome popped by yesterday and said, “You have too much stuff.”

He’s right.

I spent a great part of yesterday getting rid of half of my books.  I now have a much leaner library.  Dictionaries gone.  Thanks internet.  Thanks Kindle.  Thanks new technology.  Thanks spell-check.

I am not the sort of person who hoards crap.  Everything I have is beautiful and could probably sell for exactly or even more than I bought it.

I love heavy, white linen.  When the house is rented I put colored sheets on the bed.  Now I live here full-time I have stripped off the dark green sheets and remade the bed with my freshly laundered, white Irish linen.

It is still dark.  Waiting for the dawn.  The light on my desk attracts moths.  Tiny little moths.  I crush them and put them in the bin.

A HUGE cricket just landed on my desk.

Categories
Hollywood Rant

Goodbye Hollywood

So, all packed and moved out.  I left the apartment empty and covered in dust. I have to go back tomorrow to collect deposit and hand over the wi-fi thingy.  I am pleased not to be going back there.

When Jennie and I moved into The Chateau de Fleur we did so to escape the lives we had and wanted to change when we went into rehab.  For Jennie it was the beginning of a life away from being a porn performer.  For me it was to escape the exquisite monotony of Malibu, the pornography, the internet hook up sites and the gruelling symptoms of sex addiction.

Amazingly, for the longest time, I steered clear of the worst of my sex addict tendencies.   Until, of course, I met Jake and collapsed..once again..into active addiction.  As much as I try..I cannot forgive him.  I was doing so well.

I tell you, I hate him now more than anyone I have ever been wronged by.  More than the vile people who ran over The Darling Big Dog and more than I ever harboured for my step-father.

Masquerading as an innocent, timid boy JB knows exactly what he is doing.  I would urge anyone that gets involved with him never, ever believe a word that comes out of that mouth.  His lies are not even very amusing.  An amusing liar, like Leigh Bowery or Diana Vreeland can enhance a dull world but a tepid, self-serving liar like Jake can only make the mediocre a paler shade of taupe.

The only good thing that came out of his mouth was my cock.

I though I might write about the day my dog was killed in front of that building, in front of me and the little dog..but I can’t, not least because the memory of her written on the same page I write his name would sully the memory of her.

To think, he left his gf and flew to me.  I tended him, looked after him, cooked for him, dabbed at his tears.  I reassured him again and again that things would work out fine..and I am sure they will for the conniving little cunt.

Goodbye Hollywood.   Hello New York City.

Letter from Susan:

I drove my father to the Stiperstones last Saturday  – creamy golden late afternoon sunshine lighting all that hilly beauty – he was so happy. But all I could think of was the time we drove up there in his little Mini – I rammed the car off the road at a funny angle and we then draped ourselves around the seats and dashboard. Do you remember how much we laughed when people came to help and we woke up ? I still find it quite funny.

I do remember..and it was really funny.

Categories
Rant

Please Like Me? Please?

I sat in my therapy group this morning at 7.30am.  A gay man in his early thirties shared his addiction story (drugs and alcohol).  He caught my attention when he said that he didn’t come out until very recently because he wanted people to like him and he feared that if he told those he knew that he was gay they wouldn’t.

Pathetic.

If I had heard his story a year ago I might very well have sympathized with him but I sat there remembering that this was Jake’s rationale for not coming out until the end of his twenties.

The desire to be liked has never really interested me, being disliked is far more rewarding, one always knows exactly where one stands.   Yet, I think that this desire to be liked may be how a great number of people think.  It seems imperative that they are liked even if they have to live a total lie.

To be liked?  It seems so desperate.  I guess that pathetic JB is getting a whole lot of sympathy from family and friends but especially from susceptible gay men as he miserably tells his tragic story.

Poor Jake knew that he was gay when he was 15 years old, brought up by kindly, understanding liberal parents (why didn’t he tell them?) went to Ithaca University upstate New York (I know out gay men who were his contemporaries) couldn’t come out at Uni apparently because it was a macho uni..he told me that if he had gone to NYU he would have come out earlier….blah blah blah. He then decided to work in the film industry which, as you imagine, is sooooo homophobic.  Couldn’t wouldn’t tell a fucking soul…OH..WAIT…he did tell a soul..he told all the men he was fucking because an ‘on the down low’ gay guy is MUCH sexier to fucked up gay men than just a regular gay guy.  He learned that very quickly.

When he finally came clean, came out, thrown out of his East Village porn performance pad he was GENUINELY disturbed that her friends, their neighbours didn’t see it his way.  Where was the fucking sympathy? Where’s MY SYMPATHY!!!

Even though she tried extracting the truth he STILL couldn’t tell her everything.   He continued lying to her even though she gave him ample opportunity to tell her the truth.

Listen, I sit in those therapy rooms listening to men who get caught cheating every single day.  How pathetic they become when their world of lies and intrigue is blown apart.  It is almost FUNNY how wronged some of them think they are.

I sat in that room this morning loathing that stranger telling his story.

Poor guy, he wanted to be liked so he lied to everyone including his parents and his girlfriend etc.  It was horribly familiar.

Fuck you lying addict gay guy.  This arrogant raconteur, this self-obsessed, manipulative, entitled asshole.  I was just amazed that in this day and age he expected us to feel sorry for him.  In 2010 are we still feeling sorry for people who want to be liked so much that they pathologically lie to the whole world?

Jake lied and lied and lied.  He took risks with his own and his girlfriend’s health.  He set aside his career and his ambition, and when he finally came clean blamed his ex gf for ruining his life because she threw him out of the house.

Want to know something even more damning?  He urged me to see it his way.

Most gay men would…but I didn’t.  For all of you, like Tres Triste, who want to blame me for his misery just give a thought to how I bullied him into telling that poor girl the truth.  Yes, I bullied him into it…because what he was doing to her was cruel and dangerous and one day she will thank me because he would have married her.

Think about HER.

Those of us who bravely told the truth when we were young about our sexuality were made to pay the price.

Before this morning I really hadn’t given Jake much thought.  I don’t bother imagining his life now because it doesn’t take much imagination to figue out exactly what’s going on.  Jake is an addict and his life’s trajectory is obvious to any of one of us who identify as addicts.

The asshole who commented that I was dragging Jake into my fucked up world forgot, it seems, that Jake in fact dragged me into his fucked up world.  A world of lies, deceit, false promises and a desire to be liked at all costs.

That pretty girl squandered her twenties (as well as finding true love) on him, she should sue the nasty little liar for what he stole from her..because it can never, ever be replaced.

Thankfully the $2,000 that he owes me can and will be replaced.

Can you imagine waking up on the eve of your thirties expecting to marry the man of your dreams only to find out that every moment of every day you shared with him was a total lie?

Apparently it was her fault for not realizing that he was a lying.   After all, he didn’t have any interest in sports.  At the end of October that poor girl has to move out of her home, has to find somewhere else to live.  Just because he wanted to be liked at all costs.

The gays will love him.  They’ll understand.  As long as he’s cute and puts out and doesn’t have any emotions.  Oh yes, he’ll fit in with the mediocre, middle of the road, bourgeoise gays..just fine.

It’s still fucking hot here in Malibu.  90somethingdegrees.  I feel a bit tense.  I feel a bit miserable.  I feel a bit powerless..hence I end up blogging about Jake.  Somehow blogging about him makes me feel better.

Finally, the guy who shared this morning told us that he is HIV positive because he was taking meth.  Oh GAYS!  The gays don’t seem to think about condoms when they are high on meth which is great for the drug companies because every expendable gay with HIV is worth $3,000,000 to big pharma.

Categories
Malibu

Hot, hot, hot..

103 degrees.  Listening to The XX.  It’s hot weather music.  I have to get out of the heat.  There is a stiff, hot breeze coming off of the sea lending no relief what so ever.

I am going to lay in the Piette’s pool.

That’s what I need.  A pool.

I could just throw myself into the sea.

The dogs are utterly miserable.

Yesterday’s lunch was great fun.  So much fun…I totally forgot to take pictures.  People started turning up at 12.30 and there was a steady stream until 4pm.  I cooked the organic pork loin on the grill along with the chicken breast that I marinated in maple syrup.  Roasted potatoes and beats.  A huge salad including the big black figs that I picked from my tree.

Lively conversation.

Had dinner with Toby in Malibu at The Lumber Yard..Cafe Habana.   It was severely lacking.  I ate the fish tacos.

Recognized twice yesterday, once in Cafe Habana and again in Starbucks.  Always pleases me.

I couldn’t even sleep with a sheet covering me last night.

The problem with the stiff, hot breeze is that this reminds me of when the fires came two years ago.

This morning in therapy I shared that I should go to Resentment Anonymous.  I sat in that room feeling angry and fearful.  However, saying that my anger and fear was mainly with and about that room.  I hate going to therapy when things are NORMAL.  During the past months I really needed my support group.  Now, of course, they just irritate me.

I may go to the UK sooner than expected.

It will be autumn there.

I hate the idea of leaving Willie behind but really I have no option.

Frank flew off to Atlanta.  When Willie saw him yesterday he cried with joy.  It was so adorable.  The Little Dog has his own human friends but Frank isn’t one of them.

Too hot, my eyes are sore from sweat dripping into them and dryness.

Categories
Gay Love Malibu Rant

Smile on my Face

I am listening to Keith Jarret’s iconic Koln Concert recording.

It’s a beautiful day here in Southern California.  I woke at dawn.  The huge eucalyptus outside my bedroom window, back-lit by the rising sun, it’s smooth silvery bark and majestic limbs delightful to wake up to.

I made iced coffee.  I am going to boil an egg.

Must not forget to eat today.  This thin thing is getting tired.  I am too thin and my nails are cracking.

Regardless of my dwindling weight I am feeling totally settled again.  In my own body.  Out of my mad head.  Thank God I am no longer waking up in the morning feeling like shit.  The morning has always been my favorite time.  Renewed, refreshed, full of promise.

I awake every day to the glorious, sun drenched morning here in California.  I am a lucky man.

Remind yourself:  I am a lucky man.  I have lived a life others could only have dreamt about and if it ended tomorrow..well,  I would be at peace.  That’s all I ever wanted, to die at peace with a smile on my face.   Ducks in a row.

Last night was one of those nights when the sun went down and it didn’t get any cooler.  I suspect it’s going to be like that all this week.  If it becomes unbearable I may just head over to Hollywood and stay there until it cools down.  I don’t like watching the dogs panting, it distresses me.

The organic box arrived yesterday from Jennifer.  The raw butter, yogurt and milk are all delicious.  The vegetables were mainly good except the rather pathetic beats that are small and shrivelled.

The fridge is now full of wonderful things to eat including crab claws from Santa Barbra, fresh pasta, home cured bacon and free range chicken and pork loin.

I am cooking with Ashley today.  We are having a lunch for thirty but I suspect more people will arrive.  Today has THAT sort of vibe.  This is a great house for a party.  It always has been.

Ah, finally..there is a light sea breeze washing through the house.

Now I have a date for my operation I really don’t give my balls much thought.  I know that this thing is inside me and I know that if I don’t deal with it..well, we all know what will happen.

I can spend hours in this house not really doing anything at all.   Just rearranging.  This is a good substitute for me being a writer?  No, not really but now the love shackles are off I can concentrate on other things.  It’s a great start.

No Manhunt dates planned.  Especially now I am in Malibu.  It’s all a bit of a hassle.  Anyway, I don’t want to go through anything like I have been through recently ever again.

It was a terrible madness: enmeshed, co-dependent, destructive, cruel.

I remember writing this:  I am never lonely when I am on my own, I am only ever lonely when I am in a relationship.  I yearn for the other at the detriment of all other things.

Today I am not lonely.  I am capable.  I am a good person.

Try saying that out loud!

“Hello, my name is Duncan and I am an alcoholic/addict…and a good person.”

I am a stranger to those I have loved.   Let’s keep it that way.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qMN4U-Alqfc&feature=related]

Categories
art Love

Stevie Wonder

Frank and Willie

I spent the night in Hollywood.  Had breakfast with John but didn’t go to therapy.  I had the dogs with me and wasn’t going to leave them in the car whilst I was inside getting my head fixed.

Finally, just three months late,  summer is here and despite all the drama of the past months I find myself feeling positive, upbeat, fearless.

I described it yesterday to Frank as no longer being possessed.

Frank and I had dinner with friends in Beverly Hills.  We sat next to Stevie Wonder..which was kinda wonderful.  As they were eating their desert he and his friends sang to each other so we were treated to an impromptu performance.  This is LA.

My friends are film finance wizards from the UK so, after we deconstructed the British Film Industry, we talk love lives.  They were fascinated by the Sex Rehab show.

Two women with very differing pathologies.  One said that when ever she falls in love she becomes unrecognisable.   The effective, fully functioning business woman becomes needy, obsessed and emotional.  Huh..I nodded a lot as she described the symptoms of obsessive love.  The other woman couldn’t be more different, trusting her man to the point where she becomes suspicious of any man who asks her randomly what she is up to.  She, of course, is very happily married.  The other woman..is not.

Dinner was BETTER than therapy.

I ate a small cobb salad.  They very kindly paid for dinner.  So sweet.

I spent the day in Malibu being that handyman I had wished daily would just come with a screwdriver and do all the things I had been putting off ever since I first got here four years ago.

I put up a mirror in the bathroom, a shelve in the hall and a hat rack too. I hung curtains over the double doors and whilst I did all this Ashley cooked the most delicious breakfast which we ate on the back terrace.  I had scrubbed the huge, wooden table with vim and a scrubbing brush like a mad man until it was a delightful silvery grey color.

This morning I filled the truck with books and draws and cushions and the remainder of my shoe collection and here we all are at the house.  It’s 80 degrees.  The dogs are slumped on the marble floor…panting.

This morning we ate breakfast in the Farmer’s Market on Fairfax and Third.  Ordering scrambled egg and sausage…the deal is you sit down and they call your name when it’s ready.  They called my name very loudly.  I was aware that some people thought they knew who I was but having my name operatically yelled over the terrace confirmed their suspicions.

I chatted with a young fan.  He was adorable.

Anyway, very excitedly expecting my box of meat and veg from Jennifer’s organic delivery service.

P.S.  Forgot to mention that I went to the Prism opening (vernisage).  The gallery belongs to my friend Jared.  I had a lovely long chat with Stavros Niarchos about Spetses and the Russels and Engenio Lopez.  Bumped into Degan Pener who wants me to write something about art for The Angelino.   Saw Kevin from W but he was frosty.  You can’t win them all.

The problem with Prism is that there is no frisson.  It needs to take itself seriously rather than be the gallery ‘toy’ of two rick kids.   Remember going to Tracy Emin‘s White Cube show?  There were a thousand people in Hoxton Square..even class war demonstrators?

Where’s the audacity?  The verve?  Those boys need to cut a dash.

Categories
Malibu

Nightmare

Still not bothering to go to parties.  I will tonight tho.  It’s my last night in H’wood apartment so am taking dogs to art party in Beverly Hills.  Maybe.

Maybe?  Well, nearer the time I just might sort my cupboards instead.

Last night I stayed over with Jennifer and Jason at their house in deep Malibu.

Slept very badly.  Nightmare:  In the dream The Little Dog had lost a paw and was trying to keep up with me but was in terrible pain.  I don’t know who said it, maybe Freud, that every element of a dream is you.  It is all me.  I am the little dog trying to keep up even though I am in terrible pain.

Jennifer’s grocery delivery business goes from strength to strength.  She now has a refrigerated truck for deliveries.  I am very excited to receieve my first Out of The Box Collective visit on Saturday.

Ashley is throwing a party at the house on Sunday so I assume we will be eating everything they deliver, all the fresh, organic food..then.

I had a great clearing out day.   Draws and cupboards emptied.  Two great bags of junk taken directly to the trash.

I feel like a gulf has opened up between me and what I can achieve.  I work best when it is for or with someone.  How did I achieve half the things I achieved?

Maybe I didn’t achieve anything at all.

Categories
Gay

Gay Marriage

Human Rights defender Peter Tatchell today writes in favour of gay Marriage and, after much soul searching,  I find myself agreeing with his argument.

Same-sex marriage is an idea whose time has come. It is the growing trend.

Political support for ending the ban on gay marriage is growing rapidly. London Mayor, Boris Johnson, and Conservative Party Vice-Chair, Margot James MP, have both come out in favour of allowing lesbian and gay couples to marry in a registry office, on the same terms as heterosexual partners.

This view is also endorsed by the leader and the deputy leader of the Liberal Democrats, Nick Clegg and Simon Hughes. Indeed, Hughes has predicted that the ban on same-sex marriage will go within five years.

All five Labour leadership contenders – Ed Balls, Diane Abbott, Andy Burnham, Ed Miliband and David Miliband – now back marriage equality, regardless of sexual orientation.

Public attitudes have also shifted strongly in favour of allowing gay couples to marry. A Populus poll for the Times newspaper in June 2009 found that 61% of the public believe that: “Gay couples should have an equal right to get married, not just to have civil partnerships.” Only 33% disagreed.

Some people say that civil partnerships are sufficient for gay couples. This is hypocritical. They would not accept a similar ban on black people getting married.

They would never agree with a law that required black couples to register their relationships through a separate system called civil partnerships.

It would be racist to have separate laws for black and white couples. We’d call it apartheid, like what used to exist in South Africa. Well, black people are not banned from marriage but lesbian and gay couples are.

We are fobbed off with second class civil partnerships.

Personally, I don’t like marriage. I share the feminist critique of its history of sexism and patriarchy. I would not want to get married. But as a democrat and human rights defender, I support the right of others to marry, if they wish.

That’s why I believe that civil marriage in a registry office should be open to everyone without discrimination.

Don’t get me wrong, civil partnerships are an important advance. They remedy many – though not all – of the injustices that used to be experienced by lesbian and gay couples. But they are not equality.

They are discrimination. Separate is not equal.

In terms of the law, civil partnerships are a form of sexual apartheid. They create a two-tier system of partnership recognition: one law for heterosexuals (civil marriage) and another law for same-sex couples (civil partnerships).

This perpetuates and extends discrimination. The homophobia of the ban on same-sex civil marriage is now compounded by the heterophobia of the ban on opposite-sex civil partnerships.

Just as a gay couple cannot have a civil marriage, a straight couple cannot have a civil partnership. Two wrongs don’t make a right.

Sadly, the official policies of the Conservative and Labour parties do not support same-sex civil marriage. They oppose it. They support discrimination.

The Green Party and the Liberal Democrats are, so far, the only parties officially committed to giving same-sex partners the right to civil marriage – and heterosexual couples the right to civil partnerships.

In a democracy, we are all supposed to be equal under the law. The Con-Lib coalition‘s professed commitment to gay equality cannot be taken seriously while it upholds the ban on same-sex marriage.

Categories
Hollywood Malibu

Manhunt Date No. 6

The Manhunt assignation is proving more interesting than not.  For others it seems mostly about sex but for me it’s all about the people one can meet, the stories they tell and the places they take you.

This evening I met a young man right at very end of Wilshire Blvd at Takami, a rather grand sushi bar on the 21st floor of a building overlooking LA’s great success story:  Down Town.

In all of LA this is the most like a recognisable big city, complete with tall buildings, pedestrians, store fronts and a huge film crew shooting LA for NYC.

All the lights in all of the high rises seem to be left on all night to delight people like me hankering for a world city.   The city streets teaming with city people.  I can quite understand why so many young people want to live there.

I rather wish I did..but by November I will be in a real big city.

The young man I met this evening was a deaf, thirty-year-old graphic designer from Mexico City.  He asked for a seat in a quieter part of the restaurant.  The hostess put us under a speaker blaring very loud music.  When I asked to be moved she looked at me pityingly and told me that this was the ‘brightest part of the restaurant’  I snapped back that he was deaf not blind.  He was delighted.  She was not.

Dinner wasn’t nearly as challenging as it threatened to be until the internet date told me that six years ago he was kidnapped.

Well, if someone tells you that they have been kidnapped you might want to know why and how.  I asked a few careful questions but apparently that was the wrong thing to do as he promptly burst into tears.

We left the expensive lobster rolls uneaten.

He very kindly paid for dinner.  Phew.

As he tearfully relived the details of his kidnapping my mind wandered.  I looked out over the city scape and thought about how intriguing this internet connecting phenomena is.  I mean, I wouldn’t usually get to meet half the men I meet on-line and the best thing is I never have to meet them again.

Could you imagine how fruitful it would be if I liked having sex with strangers?

After dinner we wandered the streets and then I drove 30 miles home.

Good to get home.

What else happened today?  Walked the dogs down to the sea.  Returned emails and calls.  Met Frank over at SHLA, Frank is a darling.   Spent an hour or so at the Hollywood house and packed more stuff in the car.

Slowly, slowly making progress with the move.  So much kitchen stuff.  Christ, can I chuck it out?  This evening I will get on my knees and pray:  Please God..let me have the strength to chuck this junk.

The mouse in the house is not dead despite poison and traps.

By the way…have not looked in the mirror recently and enjoyed what I have seen but today I did.  It’s as if the corner really has been turned.

Must buy shoe trees.  My shoes all look crushed after the move.

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