Congratulations Dreamers, you are safe.
Call It Dreaming – Iron & Wine – 2017
Peace, Love, Acceptance, Equality, Understanding, Gratitude
Congratulations Dreamers, you are safe.
Call It Dreaming – Iron & Wine – 2017
Peace, Love, Acceptance, Equality, Understanding, Gratitude
Thank you for donating $1,000,000 to help humanity.
Pink – Raise your Glass – 2010
Fearsome and I wish to personally say Thank You to Pete Buttigieg for turning his life upside down during his history making and ground breaking run for President. Pete, you are a role model. We also wish to thank Chasten for his loving support of his husband’s candidacy. Chasten, you are a role model.
We thank you both for living your truth and working to better not only our country but to better the lives for all of it’s citizens.
We know that this isn’t goodbye, but the turning of a page into a new chapter of your life changing inspirational leadership toward a better future. With you two in our world we know it’s gonna be bright!
Why do I get up in the morning?
Why do I go to work?
Why do I work hard?
Why do I strive to get better?
Why do I save?
Why do I?
I do because when I do, I get to help those who cannot speak for themselves. I get to support the San Diego Humane Society. That’s why!
Thank you SDHS for giving me my Why!
If you are so inclined you can donate by clicking HERE thank you!
Eight Years, 2922 days, of continuous uninterrupted reality. It’s still a good ride, a really good ride.
Just released is a newly updated digital mix of the Beatles classic Here Comes The Sun.
Appropriately timed we might add.
The Beatles – Here Comes The Sun – 2019
Simple and beautiful.
It was late June 1969, a few pissed off queens had finally had enough.
This is a transcript of the above article below:
The New York Daily News, July 6, 1969
By JERRY LISKER
She sat there with her legs crossed, the lashes of her mascara-coated eyes beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She was angry. She was so upset she hadn’t bothered to shave. A day old stubble was beginning to push through the pancake makeup. She was a he. A queen of Christopher Street.
Last weekend the queens had turned commandos and stood bra strap to bra strap against an invasion of the helmeted Tactical Patrol Force. The elite police squad had shut down one of their private gay clubs, the Stonewall Inn at 57 Christopher St., in the heart of a three-block homosexual community in Greenwich Village. Queen Power reared its bleached blonde head in revolt. New York City experienced its first homosexual riot. “We may have lost the battle, sweets, but the war is far from over,” lisped an unofficial lady-in-waiting from the court of the Queens.
“We’ve had all we can take from the Gestapo,” the spokesman, or spokeswoman, continued. “We’re putting our foot down once and for all.” The foot wore a spiked heel. According to reports, the Stonewall Inn, a two-story structure with a sand painted brick and opaque glass facade, was a mecca for the homosexual element in the village who wanted nothing but a private little place where they could congregate, drink, dance and do whatever little girls do when they get together.
The thick glass shut out the outside world of the street. Inside, the Stonewall bathed in wild, bright psychedelic lights, while the patrons writhed to the sounds of a juke box on a square dance floor surrounded by booths and tables. The bar did a good business and the waiters, or waitresses, were always kept busy, as they snaked their way around the dancing customers to the booths and tables. For nearly two years, peace and tranquility reigned supreme for the Alice in Wonderland clientele.
The Raid Last Friday
Last Friday the privacy of the Stonewall was invaded by police from the First Division. It was a raid. They had a warrant. After two years, police said they had been informed that liquor was being served on the premises. Since the Stonewall was without a license, the place was being closed. It was the law.
All hell broke loose when the police entered the Stonewall. The girls instinctively reached for each other. Others stood frozen, locked in an embrace of fear.
Only a handful of police were on hand for the initial landing in the homosexual beachhead. They ushered the patrons out onto Christopher Street, just off Sheridan Square. A crowd had formed in front of the Stonewall and the customers were greeted with cheers of encouragement from the gallery.
The whole proceeding took on the aura of a homosexual Academy Awards Night. The Queens pranced out to the street blowing kisses and waving to the crowd. A beauty of a specimen named Stella wailed uncontrollably while being led to the sidewalk in front of the Stonewall by a cop. She later confessed that she didn’t protest the manhandling by the officer, it was just that her hair was in curlers and she was afraid her new beau might be in the crowd and spot her. She didn’t want him to see her this way, she wept.
The crowd began to get out of hand, eye witnesses said. Then, without warning, Queen Power exploded with all the fury of a gay atomic bomb. Queens, princesses and ladies-in-waiting began hurling anything they could get their polished, manicured fingernails on. Bobby pins, compacts, curlers, lipstick tubes and other femme fatale missiles were flying in the direction of the cops. The war was on. The lilies of the valley had become carnivorous jungle plants.
Urged on by cries of “C’mon girls, lets go get’em,” the defenders of Stonewall launched an attack. The cops called for assistance. To the rescue came the Tactical Patrol Force.
Flushed with the excitement of battle, a fellow called Gloria pranced around like Wonder Woman, while several Florence Nightingales administered first aid to the fallen warriors. There were some assorted scratches and bruises, but nothing serious was suffered by the honeys turned Madwoman of Chaillot.
Official reports listed four injured policemen with 13 arrests. The War of the Roses lasted about 2 hours from about midnight to 2 a.m. There was a return bout Wednesday night.
Two veterans recently recalled the battle and issued a warning to the cops. “If they close up all the gay joints in this area, there is going to be all out war.”
Bruce and Nan
Both said they were refugees from Indiana and had come to New York where they could live together happily ever after. They were in their early 20’s. They preferred to be called by their married names, Bruce and Nan.
“I don’t like your paper,” Nan lisped matter-of-factly. “It’s anti-fag and pro-cop.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t see what they did to the Stonewall. Did the pigs tell you that they smashed everything in sight? Did you ask them why they stole money out of the cash register and then smashed it with a sledge hammer? Did you ask them why it took them two years to discover that the Stonewall didn’t have a liquor license.”
Bruce nodded in agreement and reached over for Nan’s trembling hands.
“Calm down, doll,” he said. “Your face is getting all flushed.”
Nan wiped her face with a tissue.
“This would have to happen right before the wedding. The reception was going to be held at the Stonewall, too,” Nan said, tossing her ashen-tinted hair over her shoulder.
“What wedding?,” the bystander asked.
Nan frowned with a how-could-anybody-be-so-stupid look. “Eric and Jack’s wedding, of course. They’re finally tieing the knot. I thought they’d never get together.”
“We’ll have to find another place, that’s all there is to it,” Bruce sighed. “But every time we start a place, the cops break it up sooner or later.”
“They let us operate just as long as the payoff is regular,” Nan said bitterly. “I believe they closed up the Stonewall because there was some trouble with the payoff to the cops. I think that’s the real reason. It’s a shame. It was such a lovely place. We never bothered anybody. Why couldn’t they leave us alone?”
Shirley Evans, a neighbor with two children, agrees that the Stonewall was not a rowdy place and the persons who frequented the club were never troublesome. She lives at 45 Christopher St.
“Up until the night of the police raid there was never any trouble there,” she said. “The homosexuals minded their own business and never bothered a soul. There were never any fights or hollering, or anything like that. They just wanted to be left alone. I don’t know what they did inside, but that’s their business. I was never in there myself. It was just awful when the police came. It was like a swarm of hornets attacking a bunch of butterflies.”
A reporter visited the now closed Stonewall and it indeed looked like a cyclone had struck the premisses.
Police said there were over 200 people in the Stonewall when they entered with a warrant. The crowd outside was estimated at 500 to 1,000. According to police, the Stonewall had been under observation for some time. Being a private club, plain clothesmen were refused entrance to the inside when they periodically tried to check the place. “They had the tightest security in the Village,” a First Division officer said, “We could never get near the place without a warrant.”
The men of the First Division were unable to find any humor in the situation, despite the comical overtones of the raid.
“They were throwing more than lace hankies,” one inspector said. “I was almost decapitated by a slab of thick glass. It was thrown like a discus and just missed my throat by inches. The beer can didn’t miss, though, “it hit me right above the temple.”
Police also believe the club was operated by Mafia connected owners. The police did confiscate the Stonewall’s cash register as proceeds from an illegal operation. The receipts were counted and are on file at the division headquarters. The warrant was served and the establishment closed on the grounds it was an illegal membership club with no license, and no license to serve liquor.
The police are sure of one thing. They haven’t heard the last from the Girls of Christopher Street.
“We May have lost the battle, but the war is far from over”.
Fifty years later, thanks to some courageous individuals, the world is a better place. I salute them with deep gratitude. Today, because of their lead, many battles have been won …but the war is far from over.
It’s that time.
What are just a few things I am grateful for?
San Diego Bay
The sun shining through a window
Quality Cotton Sheets
I am grateful for so much more than I can say in this brief post. I’ll just keep being grateful.
Seven years ago today I got sober.
Thats 2557 days of uninterrupted reality.
I stay sober 1 day at a time. May tomorrow be just another one of those days.
You see I don’t drink like regular people. If I take a drink I have no idea where I will end up. Once one drink is in me, I go to the bitter end of fucked up drunkeness.
Therefore I choose to not drink at all. Life is better for me that way. Not everyone is like me, but I am.
”Listing Opportunity” the e-mail is titled
Another marketing spam my mind reacts
A closer observation before deletion reveals sincerity
The e-mail is opened and legit
In my work the listing is key
The key to my future income and financial security
A response is sent with hope awakened
Anticipation mounts as an appointment to meet is made
Comparble homes are noted and pricing is set
Presentation prepared I properly dress
Upon arrival I stand before a home I might sell
A face of an owner waves me to the side door
Introductions made then a tour ensues
A large flowing floor-plan, a modern kitchen, luxurious baths
Views over the valley and to the ocean in the west
Expansive entertaining patio featuring gardens of beauty, privacy and tranquil
One million seven hundred ninety five thousand the asking price will be
Oh wait there’s another agent or two to interview
Feeling confident I am with the bond we made
Put off another day with more questions asked
Reassurances received from compliments conveyed
Seems they are busy and haven’t finalized decision
Another question, another compliment, yet a few more days
Tomorrow they will confirm with me my listing to be
The Dear John e-mail comes and my hopes fade
Two weeks of hope that my next paycheck will be are lost in a moment
That door open, that door closed
Another door will open as they always do
Which door will let me in I never know
Learning to accept and remain at peace is my goal
Gratitude that doors do open, enriches my soul
Just over a year ago we fostered then adopted Phoebe.
Shortly after Phoebe joined our pack, Betty came home with us as a foster. As either you know or guessed she was also permanently adopted.
Both Betty & Phoebe were rescued by the San Diego Humane Society from a horrid hoarding situation. Today more than a year later they are happy healthy little girls.
Originally 92 Yorkies were found confined in a dark filthy room within a home here in a San Diego Suburb. They became known as The 92 Yorkies. Several weeks later another 30 or so were discovered hidden in a back room of a restaurant that the residents of the house owned. Then again several weeks after that one of the guilty owners was arrested in a motor home in Nevada escaping with yet another 40 or so Yorkies.
Betty and Phoebe were in that last rescue out of that escaping motor home.
We take a moment to honor the San Diego Humane Society for their heroic efforts and to also congratulate Betty & Phoebe for their first anniversary as part of our loving pack.
When all was said and done and the pregnant females all gave birth the total of rescued Yorkies came close to 200. We are honored and blessed that two of those came to our home and my father in law adapted a third one named Apple.
and he’s working out at World Gym San Diego right now.
Thank god so am I.
Yesterday after having an incredible time at breakfast breaking bread with a dear blogger friend (or Penguin in this case), we walked the banks of the tidal basin to take in the texture of full Cherry Blossom.
Only to arise early today that we might jet down the coast for a tasty lunch by the southern sea.
“Live Love Laugh” were the words that Fearsome left behind in the temple of Burning Man. Wherever I am may I always remember to pause, be grateful and to Live Love Laugh.
A benefit of blogging that I enjoy is that of friendship.
Yesterday I received a surprise package in the mail from Meanwhile Over in Cali.
Next week I will have the pleasure of meeting Travel Penguin for a morning meal.
Our banter, comments, humor, insight, advice, empathy, respect and understanding make for a wonderful community. We come from all places and all walks of life. I love being part of this here blogging community and I wish to express my gratitude to all those in my blogging circle.
The time has come. Mom is ready to move out of my childhood home. She’s lived there since 1957 and raised 3 boys there. Dad passed more than 2 years ago. She finally retired in December. Her last dog passed at the new year. The house is too much work for a little 86 year old lady.
It’s her decision. She is ready. She has decided that she wants to live with us in San Diego rather than with my brother in our hometown. She hates winter and loves dogs.
I’ve spent the last two weeks back east helping her sort, clean, decide, pack, throw out and donate. Her ticket has been purchased. I fly back Mother’s day weekend. We spend the week finalizing. She flys back with me, first class, to her new home in San Diego on May 18, 2018. Her new home is the first floor bedroom of our house.
Fearsome has been a big part of it all. From getting stuck on packing tape to literally getting himself caught in the recycle bin when the lid fell shut. He’s there all the way.
So now you know. We’ve been beyond work distraction to major life changes. We need to reflect on this more. We will post more about aging, emotions, family, changes, life, blessings and gratitude.
Gratitude for the opportunity and ability to support the one who once supported me into her final phase.
I’ll call it what it is.
As far as the movie goes, I wasn’t very familiar. We rented the movie on iTunes and watched it during the Academy Awards Show since it was a nominee. Wasn’t a flick I really had an interest in seeing.
Then again the universe works as it should and I watched it. Beautiful film of innocence, love and understanding.
But then there is this:
I haven’t been moved by a piece of music like this in a long while. The movie awakened many a distant memory and revived many a treasured emotion. It’s theme song, this song, reminds me to be forever grateful for all the love that has ever touched my life. Love that lasted, love that was lost, love that maybe never came to be and even Love that hurt.
Mystery of Love – Sufjan Stevens (Call Me By Your Name)
I’ve decided to add the Academy Award performance of this beautiful tune that I missed while watching the film.
Have a wonderful day!
The Christmas tree is down and already in the alley for pick up.
All the decorations are boxed and in the attic. Most everything is back in its place. It’s been a great holiday season. The 7 dogs are snuggled in their places on the couch and in dog beds.
We just had a wonderful New Year’s Eve dinner out at one of our favorite Italian spots in Hillcrest. Times Square plays on the tv as we enjoy the wonderful place we call home.
We have two wonderful god sons who have grown into young men.
We were there for each of their births and have been their god parents since each of those wonerdful days. Joshua is a senior at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo and Markus is a senior in the International Baccalaureate program of San Diego High. Both speak three languages fluently. Their dad and The Better Half have been friends since high school, he and his wife are two of the best friends anyone could ever begin to wish for.
The two youngest dogs, our rescued Yorkies, have recovered extremely well from their double knee surgeries and are no longer confined to a nursery area but are living out with us and the rest of the pack.
Our home is full of love. We enjoy our community. Our careers are both fulfilling and lucrative.
With overwhelming gratitude, Fearsome and I wish each and every one of of you a very Happy New Year!
We cry when we feel.
We cry because we are vulnerable.
We cry to heal.
We cry with gratitude, or sadness, or joy, or hope, or grief, or pain.
We cry to love.
Today has been a spectacular day around us. My feelings have flowed freely. From joy and gratitude to grief and sadness. I’ve experienced beauty and inspiration as well as bewilderment and confusion.
I write as we wait. Nina has had a good day but her health has continued to slide. It’s time.
Grown men cry.