Tuesday, June 29, 2004


Hey Bud,

Can you believe it’s been 10 years? How did an entire decade wedge itself in between then and now? That’s a lot of time to cram into such a small chronological distance.

I don’t know how it’s been on your side of the fence, but I know for a fact I’ve spent more time with you in the last ten years than I did in the previous twenty. Maybe that’s why it feels like just yesterday since you left; because you’re always making appearances, most of them uninvited by the way. Not that I mind, it’s just that I have no control over when you show up and that’s a little irritating. FYI, you never fail to make an appearance when Janis, Pink Floyd or Tina are played on the radio. It used to be that I had to pick up a phone or take a flight if I wanted to get in touch. Now, more often than not, you drop in anytime you please. Sometimes I’m awake, sometimes I’m sleeping (very rude, by the way) - don’t your keep regular hours?

I like having you along on trips. It’s fun to have you pop up in France or Italy or England or on some island in the Caribbean, the company is welcome and feel free to join me whenever I’m flipping my passport.

But really, come on, I don’t need to hear your opinion when I’m breaking up with a woman, trying on a jacket or buying furniture. Just because I’m straight doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. As far as the female thing goes…. You don’t have to remind me about my anemic batting average, truly, not necessary.

Of course, I had little control over you when you were a child, even less as a teen and I never considered it once you became an adult. It only serves to reason that I’d lose total control over our interaction once you exited stage right.

I suspect the trade-off here is that I’m no longer in danger of being a witness to, or target of, your pyrotechnic temper, angry diatribes against someone in Washington or fits of pique regarding the homophobic character of society.

Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask you abut the frequent visits I’ve been receiving over the past year from some uh, let’s just call them eccentrics. They tend to show up every now and then and seem to make a bee line to me regardless of how many people might be in the vicinity or how intently I ignore them. They’ll chat and tell me all about their conspiracy theories, invisible friends, and the entertainment careers they once enjoyed but got screwed out of. They’re eerily like the types that used to regularly amuse you and annoy the hell out of me. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you? Huh? I guess turnabout is fair play. You get to chat it up with Reagan now that he’s moved into your neighborhood!!

Ten years, five new nieces and nephews, another Bush is president and the Gay Pride Parade in West Hollywood is still an aesthetic nightmare – just thought you’d like to know.

I’m sure I’ll be seeing you later today, tomorrow and the day after that. I'll be watching my beard grow whiter and you'll always be 33.

And before you know it, little brother, we'll be calling it a decade.

Sunday, June 27, 2004


"They (Americans)are possibly the dumbest people on the planet... in thrall to conniving, thieving, smug pricks."

Michael Moore, from a talk given in England, 2003

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