Changes

Before

After

 (lick on the image it will get bigger!)

That clever, talented Husband can still stun me with his talents. I was not so keen for him to change the dining room chairs, I rather enjoyed the circa 1963 Pucci fabric. Change them he did, & on occasion I am unhappily & unwillingly brought to admit that he was right. He reupholstered the 2 dining room chairs & I am charmed by the results.

Pout... It Works For Me

Yesterday was action packed for the Husband as he prepared for an evening event to be hosted at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. The Husband & his business partner, the hip-hop artist & designer- Lil’Jake, put together an evening for the artists, designers & craftsman that will represented at Boys’ Fort, their Pop-Up store opening in downtown Portland in Fall 2011.

Late morning, the Husband set off, on foot, for Walgreen’s, 2 blocks away. Walgreen’s is a necessary evil in our daily lives, being the closest retail outlet to our home; it is dreaded for the terrible customer services & much used for the convenience & the overflowing on & off offerings. This all-purpose drugstore stocks aisles & aisles of seasonal/ holiday products that magically go away the day after when the new special stuff replacing it like magic. Today the place is filled with the things you need for Dads, Grads & July 4^th: flip flops, sunglasses, BBQs, hula hoops, beach towels & sunscreen.

The Husband returned from his outing with this appraisal of the experience:

Husband: “I had 3 things that delighted me since I have been gone.

Stephen: “Do Tell.”

Husband: “1. At the dreaded Walgreen’s, in a display of baby tees, I spotted a baby T-shirt that read- ‘Pout… It Work’s For Me’.

2. I spied a gay couple, early 30s, prissy, & they had a large book that was open across their cart. They were leaning over reading it as they walked the aisles. I had to discover what this was all about, so I doubled back around the aisle & walked towards the pair going the opposite way. As I passed I found that it wasn’t a book at all, but a very larger photo type album. There was at least a hundred plastic pages, each one with 16 pockets, each pocket contained a perfectly cut out coupon. As I passed by I heard on of the baby queers argue with other- ‘ No! If we wait a week we can get that item,& instead of saving 20 cents, we can get it for 50 cents off.’

3. On the way back home. I passed the grassy lot next to the Baptist church & the pastor was supervising a group of kids playing kick ball. Actually it was a group of girls & one boy. The girls were all dressed in long skirts, looking like Mennonites or Mormons. I stopped & watched as the boy child kicked the ball. He ran to the first base with his arms held at head level & his wrist as limp as an old queen on martinis. Flailing his little thin arms & limp wrists & running knock kneed, almost a skipping, he made it to the base. I watched in amazement knowing that this little Baptist boy would grow up to be big old ‘Mo & I wondered if anyone had inkling.”

Stephen: “Wow! All that in a half hour! By the way, why don’t we use coupons?  Are you sure the little boy is gay?”

The Husband: “ No doubt what so ever, &… I don’t use coupons because I have too much on my mind all the time.”

Sunday Morning Reflections

Mirrors are a constant reflection of our design style & Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is filled with them, even outside, plus here & there is a mirror on a mirror. The mirrors reflect & refract the light & help make a small space open up. The mirrors are from many different era is the 31+ years of being a couple, including mirrors that we brought into the relationship, including one from my great grandmother's home in smalltown Illinois.

The newest mirror was assembled by the Husband yesterday from an old red tray & a found hubcap. I really like this one. It appears to me to be rather "Vermeer At The Beach".

A mirror above the headboard reflects outdoor light. A mirror on my side of the bed allows me to see what I am doing when I am... (oops, TMI?). The drapery is new, a bolt of paprika colored, hand stitched silk with tiny mirrors, purchased for a song at a flea market last Sunday. When we got it home, the Husband remarked that he had no idea what it could ever be used for & was possibly a foolish buy. That Husband is resourceful & regardful, he found a way to use it & please me.

Leaning against a wall in the front room is the largest mirror at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. Dig the mirror on mirror action above the mantle.

Ironically, I never seek my reflection in a mirror. It is too frightening to look in the mirror & see my father staring back.

More Goings On At The Old Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

The view from the front room to what was described in the real estate listing as the

 "Formal Dining Room". The arch has been a focal point for a half a decade, adding to that special Post Apocalyptic Bohemian look that we go for.

The Husband had been up to something for a while, visiting his favorite wood store, & then the sound of his saw. Last week, The Husband asked me if I would get it up & keep it up while he pounded it in.

& now we have a new beam...

Junior has a new favorite space, his own little "man cave". He apparently believes he is undetected in his special spot. Junior uses his new hideout to hide toys, doggy porn & cigarettes.

This is my workspace, uncensored & unstyled for the photograph. The Husband will be horrified.

This is a section of the Husband's workspace. It is my view from where I sit when I am posting on this bloggy thing.

Shot by the husband in the winter version of The Boys' Fort.

Goings On At Post Apocalyptic Bohemia

I was startled to hear someone else say what I have been saying for a decade- "Your house is like the Winchester Mystery House, if your husband keeps working on it, building, changing... he will never die."


Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is situated in a regulation working class bungalow in a working class neighborhood. The original house had 2 small bedrooms off of a tiny hallway. Those bedrooms are now each of our workspaces. The husband recently sealed off the original door to his space, & built a wall.  On Monday,The Husband & our dear friend T, a gilder by trade, silver leafed the wall. When you enter the front door of our hovel, it is a straight shot to the new wall. On reflection the next day, the Husband owned up to feeling that the wall was ostentatious. I am crazy about it. What do you think?

Before

Where there once was door & now there is a wall

The process, & you can't have too many boys in horizontal striped T-shirts. Skinny guys really piss me off! If I wore horizontal stipes, I would look like a carnival tent.

Do I like it, or am I frieghtened by the silver wall?

Larry & I enjoy the wall this morning...

The piece of woodwork at the top is a vintage Thai architectural element, also gulided by T.

There is no reason to post this photograph except that T has a fine ass & the Husband is handsome when he is earnest.

Note To Self: Pencil In The Gay Exorcism For Wednesday Night, Be Sure To DVR Modern Family

I had a lazy Sunday. The only task was assigned to me by the Husband: " I need for you to deal with your gigantic pile of magazines!" I spent the afternoon tearing out images from 6 months+ worth of the 12 magazines that I subscribe to. The pictures will be added to my inspiration wall. I hereby vow to never keep a magazine longer than its publication month. Really, dear Husband.

I'll Know That Moment Divine

Along with anecdotes from my life, Post Apocalyptic Bohemian is intended to be a celebration of accomplished & gifted gay people on the day of their birth. We live in a great big world, full of people of different shades, sexualities, sizes, shapes, & suppositions. On rare occasions, I am moved & absorbed by the great works of non-gay individuals.


Music is a driving force in my life & my tastes are all over the map. While organizing my CDs, I chuckled as I noted that The Clash & Rosemary Clooney are side by side. I wish that The Clash had done a cover of Come On-A My House.

From childhood, I have a had a passion for The Great American Songbook- popular music from the first 6 decades of the 20th century. I own a large library of books by & about composers & lyricists, & I have done birthday posts on the musical greats- straight & gay. All right, I gave a bit more attention to Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, Lorenz Hart, Kander & Ebb, & Jerry Herman, but the gay spin that informs their work is evident & speaks to me.



Today's birthday guest is the decidedly heterosexual Jerome Kern.  He wrote the music to some of the most stunning songs of the last century. In 1915 with bookwriter Guy Bolton, he began a series of intimate musicals for the 299 seat Princess Theatre. Among Kern's songs for these charming shows were They Didn’t Believe Me (1914), which I consider the first modern ballad, & Look For the Silver Lining (1920)


In 1927, Kern teamed with Oscar Hammerstein II & they adapted lesbian Edna Ferber’s novel into one of the greatest of all American musicals: Show Boat. Show Boat pioneered the concept of the fully integrated musical, with all aspects of the show working together toward a single artistic unity. Among the songs introduced in Show Boat were Ol' Man River, Bill, Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man, Make Believe, & Why Do I Love You?


After Show Boat, Kern continued to write for Broadway, contributing such classic songs as The Song Is You, Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, & Yesterdays, all from 1933's Roberta with lyrics by Otto Harbach.


In 1935, Kern went to Hollywood, where he spent most of the rest of his career, writing some of his very best music. For the 1935 film of Roberta he wrote I Won't Dance. For Swing Time (1936), he wrote A Fine Romance & The Way You Look Tonight, with lyrics by Dorothy Fields. He was nominated for 9 Oscars & won 2.

On the occasion of our 10th anniversary of being a couple, after a swell party thrown by our neighbors & dear friends- R & M, I found myself alone with the man who would eventually be my husband. He presented me with a piece of his art, a marvelous & meaningful collage, just for the occasion.

I had planned this moment... yet I doubted that it could be pulled off without interruption, giggling, dog barking or humiliation. I stood facing him in our little Seattle cottage, I looked him in the eye & without flinching, in what I have to admit is my pretty amazing, if uncommon singing voice, I performed Jerome Kern’s- All The Things You Are, verse & chorus. I was more nervous than any stage performance. I finished- I'll know that moment divine, when all the things you are are mine". The Husband had teared up. Then he said: “beautiful… how come you never sing to me? I love to hear you sing”. He kissed me.

With Your Blessing, I Would Like To Start Year 3...

During a spat 3 years ago, the Husband stated: “for 27 years, you hardly ever said a word, & now you won’t shut up!”

Post Apocalyptic Bohemia began as a birthday challenge in 2009. Every January 3rd, I ask of myself to try & do something in my new year that would be difficult, but still possible for me to achieve.

I had poked the world of blogs after discovering my first one after a Google search in 2008- American Irish (which I still read) & I became a daily reader of about 20 blogs.

The idea jumped at me out of the blue, & on my birthday- 2009; I challenged myself to have my own blog & to do a post every single day. It took me a while to get going as I studied the templates & options, & attempted to make my choices for a name for my site & a point of view.

My first post was 2 years ago today. As I looked at that original post today, I realize what a naïf I was at the time. But, I did eventually find my voice; I related anecdotes from my life, weighed in with my opinions, & celebrated the lives of famous gay people, throughout history, on their birthdays.

I named my little spot on the Internet- Post Apocalyptic Bohemia because I share a structure with my husband of 31+ years & our 2 canines, which appears to be a squatter’s shack claimed after a cataclysmic event, & because we are all 4, decidedly Bohemian.

The best part of blogging for the past 24 months:

Having a relationship & sometimes daring to call them friends, 50 other bloggers & readers. I have met some in person, & although I was at first intimidated, I am thankful to have spent time with Mark, Will, Arnie & Blair. I have been blessed to have readers that don’t have their own websites… Glenn in L.A., thank for your many comments, compliments & for cleaning up my vintage photos. I have discovered that I have readers that never comment, & I am very grateful to them also.

I am the only son of an only son, the end of the line. I am in deep late-middle age. I feel that Post Apocalyptic Bohemia is my legacy, my story, written down & on the record. I think of it as my memoir, a record that I would be too lazy to write down in anything other form than these small installments with instant feedback.

I have always longed to be the center of attention & in the spotlight. Thank you, readers, for allowing me. As of today: 1,100 posts, 4,213 comments, 147 followers, 170,000 hits, 500-1000 views per day. I have received comments from post subjects: one of Robert Rauschenberg’s lovers, writer Peter Cameron, singer Karla De Vito, & thrillingly- Larry Kramer! 2 years ago today I never would have dared to believe. Much love & thank you to the Husband. He does not crave attention, & is an unwitting foil in all this. He is also a fine editor.

Thanks for stopping by my little place on the Internet. You mean the world to me, & if it is OK with you, I would like to renew my option for another year.

My own personal favorite post:
http://nopoboho.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-life-is-david-lynch-movie.html

This Really Happened

Scene: The small galley kitchen of a working class bungalow where the Husband is hard at work whipping up something wicked.

Enter Stephen, sophisticated, sassy, & shrewd 
Stephen: Do you really have to make such a big mess of the kitchen when you cook?
Husband: Do me a favor... you do all the cooking & of course, don't make a mess while preparing your meal. Just promise to not let anyone eat any of your food.

The sting of the truth is- I really can't cook. I can't even make coffee. My parents are great cooks. My Husband is a great cook. I've worked in restaraunts most of my life. I am afraid that there is the very real possibility that cooking is an inate trait, like painting, singing or dancing. You can practice, study & improve, but either you got it, or, you ain't, & I ain't got it.

I gave it a try every once in a while. 35 years ago, there was the still talked about culinary creation- Steve's Pinapple & Pea Salad. Inventive. After the stinging slap of a slight about my kitchen skills, I challanged myself to learn to do a few basics. I got out my mother's Fanny Farmer Cookbook, & I went to work on a new Stephen- The Proficient Cook. After 3 weeks of trying out my offerings, my Husband, my strays & my friends asked me to stop trying to provide the occasional meal. They had an intervention, & they implored me to stop cooking.

Stephen: Hey, when I do cook dinner, even if it has been 25 years, I clean up as I go along, & when I am done, the kitchen looks tastfully together, just a few dishes to do. You get food on the walls, on the cabinets & on the dogs! I don't understand how you make such a mess...
The Husband exits stage R, rather abruptly.

The Autumn Of My Years... A Ramble On The Day Before Winter Solstice

"I'm In The Autumn Of My Years" but swingin' like Della

Today is the last day of autumn 2010. In 2 weeks, I will be ending my own autumn, as I officially will be in my late 50s. 2 weeks from today I will be in the winter of my life. I have lived longer than I ever intended to live. But, as Woody Allen stated- “It’s better than the alternative”.


The last 6 weeks have not felt like autumn, but rather like real winter. Living in the Pacific Northwest in December is not for the faint hearted. But, we are all steamed up at Post Apocalyptic Bohemia. because tomorrow is not just the darkest day of the year, but for the 1st time since 1554, we will have a full moon experiencing a full lunar eclipse on the Winter Solstice tomorrow night. Portland is forecast to have clear skies, & I plant to witness this event, possibly with a whiskey in my hot tub.


In the beautifully written new volume in his- Tales of The City series: Mary Ann In Autumn, Armistead Maupin says- “The past doesn’t catch up with us, It escapes from us.” I have spent the last few days playing a- “if I just hadn’t done _______, then ______ never would have happened". More on the current situation in a post later this week, but I can say that I am at my lowest in the month of December. My depression deepens & a fog of melancholia creeps into my every wrinkle.

My feelings about Christmas are not simple. I had a happy childhood with more than 18 Christmases that were lovely, loving & lavish. As an only child of upper-middle class working parents & one of only 2 grandchildren of 3 sets of grandparents, I received plenty of presents, & because I was such a little adult, the gifts consisted of mostly books, record albums & clothing. I didn’t care much for toys until I became an adult.

Baby Butch as Baby Jesus 2010 edition

The Post Apocalyptic Bohemian Christmas Tree 2010

Now in the autumn of my years, I like to keep it a simple, as I consider all the people that go without at Christmas . The Husband & I stopped giving each other gifts over 2 decades ago. That is our special gift to each other. Our traditions include the presenting of Baby Butch as the Baby Jesus & our annual tree, cut down in the woods in bitter cold by the husband, brought home on top of the station wagon, covered in blue lights, & placed just outside of the backroom floor to ceiling window. The Christmas tree is close to the major bird feeder & often has 7 or 8 songbirds perched on the branches like glass ornaments. Our birds are well fed & on the plump side, but I can't deny them food & clean water.

The Goldfinch is the State Bird of Washington, so she may be a little lost. But who can blame her? & we are only a few miles from the border here in North Portland.

We will go to a movie on the Holiday; we are thinking about the 1st showing of The King’s Speech. Christmas evening will bring a fire in the fireplace & a prayer for peace & goodwill between all people. I would like to know your traditions. Would you share?

A Few Of My Favorite Things

I love my bed. In a nod to Pee Wee Herman, I call it “beddy”, my beddy. Even with my love affair with my sleeping place, it is used exclusively for sleeping & well, you know…I don’t eat, read or watch TV in bed.

The bed frame is from West Elm, & the headboard is by the Husband, made from pieces of a vintage door from Indonesia. The mattress is a California King by Royal-Pedic. The mattress retails for about $3000, but was purchased by the Husband at cost. The current blanket is a coverlet by Peacock Alley & the Duvet cover is from West Elm.

The Husband sleeps with his feet outside the covers & the duvet pulled up to his eyelids. He wears a tee shirt & curls up into a little ball. I sleep naked in corpse position with my upper chest outside of the covers. I share the bed with my man & 2 canines. Larry, the fat dog, likes to sleep on my feet, & junior sleeps curled up between us, making spontaneous affection between the husband & me mostly impossible. In fact, we rarely run into each other in the night.

I like to sleep. I can easily sleep 9 hours a night, & I love to nap in my beddie, slipping just under the duvet layer.

My childhood headboard re-used in the guest room.

A bed by the Husband in the guest room, circa 2001

I have always had a pretty cool bed. I still have my childhood headboard. It was the guest bed in the 2nd bedrrom until the Husband claimed the room as his studio. I make my bed every day & I have since I was 4 years old. One day in 2007, in an effort to prove that I am not the rigid control freak I was accused of being by the Husband & a friend, I chose not to make the bed. I went to work with the bed a morning tangle. I did well for the 1st hour, & then I thought about nothing else but the unmade bed all day until I got home in the evening. I made the bed just a few hours before I would get in it again. Never again.

Our bed in our Seattle cottage, circa 1986

Sleep tight & don’t let the bed bugs bite.

A bed that the Husband designed & built the headboard for WCK3 in October 2010.

A bed the Husband did for a photo shoot.

The Bed Is Too Big Without You

The bed is too big without you...

I have never disagreed with any of his design choices for any of our homes, from our 1st apartment in 1979 to Post Apocalyptic Bohemia in the 21st century; even when those design choices were bold, to say the least.


The Husband sat through every play that I ever performed in, back in my acting days. He would see the ones that he liked more than once & he would be gentle in his opinion with the shows that he did not care for & on occasion really disliked. Bless his soul, he sat through my brilliant turn in Becket’s Endgame, & possibly the worst production of Cabaret (although he did point out that as Herr Shultz, it was as if the actress I played opposite & I were seemingly in a separate show). When he loved my performance & was behind the production, he could be the biggest fan (Pump Boys & Dinettes).


The Husband & I have the same taste in films, theatre, TV, books & we enjoy sharing the experiences. Where we differ, we are challenged & interested in the other person’s choices. I am engaged by nature & history documentaries when channel hopping & he likes Survivor, which is my cue to go to bed early.


We travel very well together, which I believe could be litmus test for any friendship. We don’t have separate money, we have the same friends, for decades we had one wardrobe, until I got bigger & he got smaller. It is a marriage that mostly works & after 31 years, there are rarely any big surprises.

It didn’t seem to be a big deal, & there was no malice, impatience or judgment involved in my moving the coat that he had placed across the handsome, modern desk chair at my worktable & placing it in the coat closet. He knows that I am just short of needing medication for compulsive neatness. We have the coat closet & coat racks on the landing to the basement. I wasn’t unhappy with him & I showed no irritation when I moved his outerwear. Yet, he was furious with me.


The Husband has a similar reaction when I arrive home from work & immediately commence to cleaning. He seems to feel that I am editorializing. I have made a heartfelt attempt to not do that, but sometimes the need to wash dishes & clean the counters wins out of best intentions.


The vibe between us was anxious, angry & averse because of the coat moving incident. We snapped at each other, were driven off track with mentions of past slights & we ended the evening not speaking. As always in this situation, I was so bruised that I chose to sleep on a day bed in the back room rather than join him in the marriage bed.

 The following evening the husband stated: “I find it very amusing that we punish each other by not sleeping together, as if we are doling out real reparation, retribution & reprimands by depriving the other of snoring, drooling, moving around & the ups & downs of a night’s sleep. Ooo, I am so angry with you, I am going to deprive you of my company while you slumber!”


I thought about our absolute antagonism & antipathy toward each other’s automobile driving techniques & skills. Too bad that we are not able to just exit the car & get in another when we swipe at each other while driving. “I am so mad at you, I am going to deprive you have the pleasure of having me in the automobile. I am going to just drive on my own! Bitch!”

Feeling Squirrely?

I have designed, planned, & executed our garden to attract wildlife. I love to sit in our back room, where the TV is, & watch the feeders for alluring, appealing, adorable avian visitors. We live mere blocks to the mighty Columbia & Willamette Rivers & we have plenty of flying guests. We have spotted an Eagle (with his eye on a terrier dinner, I suppose) Red Tail Hawks, Goldfinches, Scrub Jays, a Woodpecker, & Hummingbirds. I have different feeders with a variety of seeds & suet, & apparently the squirrels love them all.

Fed up with the squirrels feeding frenzy, the Husband & I purchased a “squirrel proof feeder”. Is there such a thing? This item was expensive, but we were didn’t wish to have a winter with hungry avian & fat, satisfied squirrels. The Husband placed the new feeder close to the house for optimum viewing.

The new feeder is now deeper in the garden for the shy birds, but we had a day of gratifying diversion watching a squirrel try & negotiate the new device. This squirrel did not give up & I commend his wholehearted commitment to snatching those seeds. He apparently did not grasp the notion of “squirrel proof”.

The Squirrel lands on the window to prove that he is a HIM & to torment Junior.