Matt Bomer

patrikia

Wild Collaborations

Creative Thinking for a Mundane World


My First Costume
patrikia

Mommy

My mommy is dying. She is refusing to eat or drink. I have been told that waiting a few weeks to go and see her is no longer an option, so now it depends on the doctors and when I will be at the hospital next week. I will probably go out alone, and sillyviking will come and fetch me next weekend. Mom is in a facility in Riverhead, Long Island. So many things up in the air right now. Sigh.

Matt Bomer
patrikia

Gay Marriage or We'll Marry Your Girlfriend

(so I can find it later)

http://www.collegehumor.com/video/6846855/gay-men-will-marry-your-girlfriends

 (can't get it to embed...)

Take Over The World
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Socks for Mike

So, I wrote a long post about my friend Mike and how I lost him to AIDS. Well, part of his deal was that when he came out to his family, they kicked him out. He spent time living on the streets, working as a male prostitute.

There is an organzation in New York City that provides services to LGBTQ homeless youth - the Trinity Place Shelter.

http://www.trinityplaceshelter.org/mission/

They have listed socks on their wishlist, and so I contacted them and asked them if they would like some hand-knitted ones.

They said yes!!

So I'm going to make some hand-knit, rainbow colored, washable socks. And I am inviting all of my crafty friends to make some as well, and for those not so crafty, you could even go out and buy some. I ask that you include a little note of encouragement for whatever youth gets your socks, attached with a safety pin. I will box them up and send them to NY.

Sound like a plan?

If you need my mailing address, send me a private message.

Thanks, and love you all.

Matt Bomer
patrikia

Eye-candy

Made it myself, I did! :-)

welltailored suit

Polka!
patrikia

New baby

Sisters, unite! - Ainsley and Esme Mulligan




2kids[1]

Caturday
patrikia

Head Trauma

My oncologist has confirmed that I will need another MRI in 4 weeks. Le sigh.

BUT Sillyviking came up with the most reasonable explanation for the spot in my brain to date. To whit,



armour

polar bear hiding
patrikia

Another MRI in 4 weeks

Sigh.

The report says:

"Focal predominately subcortical white matter signal abnormality
within the right frontal lobe with mild patchy enhancement. Favor a
vascular etiology such as an atypical developmental venous anomaly,
however a small metastasis is not excluded. Recommend follow up
brain MRI in 4 weeks to evaluate for stability."

---

There is also apparently a fluid cyst in my right sinus cavity (where the headaches are, btw).

Oddly enough, or not, my sister Pat has a similar white patch in her brain. I am going to bury the possible Alzheimers ramifications of that as deeply as possible.

Matt Bomer
patrikia

saving for later...

http://youtu.be/NurkuZlfveo

http://youtu.be/kgq4nFxWufI

http://youtu.be/GH-x19UhFo0

http://youtu.be/SeqBWKhq6Dk

ancient cat
patrikia

My AIDS story

I know I haven't written in a long time, and I will get back to you about some things that have been going on with me. I had some appointments at the Cancer Center today - all good. So no worries!

In the meantime, I needed to write out an important story from my past. There is a movie being made in the next two years or so about the start of the AIDS epidemic in the early 80's, something that I was part of. I am sharing it here.

Once upon a time, I was a student at Westminster Choir College in Princeton, New Jersey. It was a very, very small school (under 500 students – my graduation class had 65 students), with degrees in church music, music education and performance – voice/organ/piano. At the time, WCC was a stand-alone conservatory (it’s now part of Rider University). We lived on the opposite part of Princeton, away from the famous University, in a residential neighborhood. It was a little enclosed society, in a real bubble.

During that time (1979-1983), being gay in the larger world was still very taboo.  At Westminster, it was totally different. 95% or greater of the men there were gay, including almost the entire male faculty. As women in that environment, we usually dressed in baggy clothes, cut our hair short, rarely wore make-up (unless for a performance). We (the women) had one great indulgence – extremely expensive perfume. Get it? You can’t see it but the reminder to ourselves that we were actually female was there. All of the students spent very little time off-campus – we worked long hours, and rehearsed the rest of the time. Westminster was our entire life.

It was a school that specialized in choral music, which meant more of a team approach to music. We had to work in a choral setting at least one hour every day. With that few students, everyone knew everyone else.  I was part of the Westminster Choir, the first-string 40 voice touring group. We rehearsed many more hours that the one a day, with two months during the school terms on tour, winter breaks spent making recordings, and the summers in the Spoleto USA Festival in Charleston SC and the Spoleto Festival in Spoleto, Italy. All this to say that our relationships were pretty intense, and we were all very close. Westminster Choir was famous for breathing absolutely in sync. We would be singing and all begin to sway together. It was such an organic experience – we lived and breathed each other.  A little bubble – an idyllic place, rehearsing all the time, working with people like Zubin Mehta, Leonard Bernstein, Ricardo Muti, etc., etc. Amazing.

I had a strong interest in medieval history and had just gotten my own little Celtic (lap) harp. Suddenly there appeared on campus a young man, Mike Spratlin. He was the Scottish Harp Champion of the US, Clan Harper for Clan MacNeal worldwide, a well known Scottish harp player. He had a patron – Dr. Herbert MacNeal (the MacNeal clan chief, who actually lived in New Jersey). Dr. MacNeal was elderly, married with no children. He and his wife were paying for Mike to get his degree at Westminster.

Mike had a rough time of it. When he came out to his family, they spurned him. He lived on the streets of Salt Lake City for a time, surviving by being a male prostitute. He became part of the Mormon Church for awhile – you can imagine how that went. Eventually, he found the Scottish Harp Society, and his life changed completely.

Since we had the Celtic harp in common, we became friends. We were more than friends – we loved each other. I am a childhood incest survivor, who could barely stand to have a straight man give me a hug (my male friends at WCC had learned to be very cautious with me and never to take “not now” and a push away as a personal affront). Mike didn’t have many female friends, but really – he was the best “straight” gay man I have ever met. Even at Westminster it took awhile for folks to figure out that he wasn’t straight. I gave him the acceptance that his own family never did. He gave me a gentle re-entry into allowing myself to be touched.

We went everywhere together. We spent weekends at my mother’s house at the Jersey Shore, mostly in the winter, walking the beach and going out for breakfast. I introduced him to MTV. There was a time when he tried to convince me that I was gay, too – but I had no interest at all. It would have made things much easier for him, I think. I had asked him to play a particular tune at my wedding someday. It was the only piece of music he could never get right. He told me that he was afraid that if he could play it through without making a mistake, I would get married and he would lose me.

I attended Scottish music festivals with him. They all thought we were having a torrid affair – we would be holding each other, giggling madly and whispering in the corners (actually we both liked the same type of man). Then Mike would announce that we had to ‘tune the harps’ and we would run out of the room, laughing. They all thought that was code for something else – really, we had to go tune the harps! We always roomed together and often slept in the same bed together.  We were often physical together, but not really sex – more ‘making out’ as they used to say. Dr. MacNeal once offered to make us his heirs (he had a very tidy fortune and no real family), if we would marry and have a child. Even my own mother encouraged me to do it, but instead I talked Mike into tell Dr. MacNeal the truth. Dr. MacNeal handled it well, and even offered to find me a nice Scottish bagpipe player of my own.  So, I was part of his cover at in the very macho Scottish world. Even though he played the harp, the Scottish harp style is very aggressive, and he was truly a master at it – nobody ever guessed our secret.

Since he had started school later than the rest of his, Mike was 2 years behind me. I graduated, worked at the college for a year, then went to north Jersey to take a job in advertising. We kept in touch but nothing like it was – no cell phones or internet!

Now during the time I was at WCC, AIDS was just coming into the public mind. At the college, it was the most terrifying thing we ever had faced. We did not understand how it spread – we thought the innocent kinds of interactions I had with Mike would be enough to spread it. As the manager of the Westminster Choirs by that time, I had one singer go into the hospital in Rome during the Spoleto Festival (turns out it was just the flu) and literally began to research how to get a coffin from Italy to the US. It was a death sentence then. We thought we would all die from it, and especially all of our gay friends and teachers (many of them did, of course). I told you how close we all were, because of the kind of music we shared. We were together all the time, all year long. So, terror.

I was away from the College – Mike was still there. And one day I got that phone call, the one I dreaded.

Mike had AIDS.

Not only that, he wanted to come and see me.

I was in my early 20’s and despite my fears/issues, the one thing I wanted in the world was to have a child. I had to seriously consider that if I touched Mike (we didn’t understand!!), I might get sick, and I would never be able to have a child.

But I also knew that if I flinched even one little tiny bit when I saw him in person, I would kill him.  And I truly loved him.

So I went out and found every book or article on AIDS that I could find (precious little back then). I called some agencies and asked questions. I went to my doctor to discuss the risks.

When Mike appeared at my apartment door, I opened it and flung my arms around and kissed him, like we always had before.

We ended up kneeling on my kitchen floor, while he sobbed and sobbed. And I did a bit, too.

You see, since he had been diagnosed NOT ONE PERSON had touched him. Not even his gay friends. But I loved him unconditionally. Enough to die for him, if he needed that touch. Enough to give up any chance of my having children for him. He deserved that much from me.

So when I heard about this movie project, I was there on my little apartment kitchen floor, holding him, stroking his back, telling him that I loved him, no matter what.

That I would never forget him, and I would never let him be forgotten.

I just wanted to share that AIDS was not only about the gay community. There were, and are, many of us who are heterosexual who lost people we loved. Family. Friends. And lovers, of a sort. The story of AIDS in the early 80’s was not just a gay story – it was –my- story. 

img021
     Mike Spratlin at the harp (aka Aonghus MacNeal)


kissykissy
patrikia

Fifty Shades

I'm reading a different book ("switch" by Megan Hart), but it got me thinking about the 50 Shades phenom.

I don't think it really has anything to do with the kinky sex bits, especially the sex in the 50 Shades books isn't particularly kinky. I don't think it's about sex and pain - again, not that much of it actually in there, although the idea is discussed.

I think it's about how hard life is. So many decisions and juggling so much, so many women who are having to take over for men who leave or were never really there, jobs that don't make enough money to pay the bills anymore, trying to pay mortgages, worrying about sending kids to college, etc., etc.

Who wouldn't like to fantasize about not having to make even the most basic decisions - what and when to eat, what to wear, how or whether or not to exercise, what job to have. Especially if the man making those decisions for you is handsome, rich, sexy, wants to make you happy, buys you a car and all of your clothes.

It's very 1950's and totally not PC, but I get it.

And I also think that's why these particular books fed that need - because there really isn't that much physical kinky stuff in there. These women want someone to take away the stress of always having to struggle with decision making, not actually cane them when they are 'bad'.

And then I started thinking about the struggle for re-entry after the cancer treatment, and I thought - ah - very similar, actually. When you are in the midst of fighting cancer, you are not expected to have to take care of all of the day to day little annoyances in your life - you are fighting a bigger battle!! The doctors make all of your decisions for you - what to eat, your schedule, what pills to take, what lotions to use to soothe battered skin. So like a dom/submissive relationship, where you are expected to jump and do whatever they say without question (and you do it, too!).

Then all of a sudden, you're expected to be dealing with everything on your own again. And that is very difficult.

Hmmmm. Thinking thinky thoughts about that.

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