Paella Barcelona Style

I'm going to a dinner party Wednesday night at my friend Kathryn's. Lotsa showtunes, handsome guys, mondo food. Everybody was assigned a city and must bring a dish associated with it. I got Barcelona and, after some poking around on the internet, settled on this recipe:

Barcelona Style Paella

3 cups white rice
1 lb franks
16 cocktail size mini franks
8 oz Italian sweet sausage or hard salami, thinly sliced
1/3 cup olive oil
3 garlic cloves, sliced
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
1/4 teaspoons saffron, crushed
4 cup chicken broth
1 medium tomato, peeled, seeded and diced
1 green bell pepper, seeded and diced
1 red bell pepper, seeded and cut into thin strips
Bay leaf
Salt and freshly ground pepper

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Cut four franks into quarters length-wise. Slice remaining franks into 3 pieces. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in large skillet, add frank strips and pieces and cook until lightly browned - strips will curl; remove and set aside. Add 1 tablespoon oil and cocktail franks and salami slices. Lightly brown; remove and set aside.

Add remaining oil, garlic, onion to skillet and cook, stirring for 3 minutes. Add rice and saffron, cook and stir until rice turns golden. Add chicken broth and bay leaf. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer 20 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. In a shallow 4 quart oven proof casserole, arrange rice, sausages, tomato, and bell peppers so that some of each show on top. Heat in oven 15 to 20 minutes.

Patti's Turn...

I am delighted Patti LuPone is getting the praise she so richly deserves for her thrilling and heartbreaking stint as Mama Rose. Hers is simply one of the most richly drawn, gorgeously detailed performances I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Bravo, Diva LuPone!

David

I guess because of the fight Friday night I felt some strange combination of vulnerability and invincibility. Or maybe I simply had a check-in moment with mortality. At any rate, I decided yesterday afternoon to do what I've been wanting to do for two years. I returned to the home I was forced to leave, knocked on the door and asked David to talk.

He listened, to his credit. The content is personal. But it's hard to face down some of the realities. Two years have gone by. Two years. It's not going to get any better. I have healed as much as I am going to heal.

The sorrow is bad but manageable. It's just hard to think that it will always be there.

I'm grateful he listened.

The photo above is David and me in happier times.

Thoughts on Friday

This morning I rolled up a nice Spring jacket, put it in a Hefty bag and carried it to the trash. It was splattered with blood that was not mine. I can throw it away, but I have to live with the reality of it forever. I hit someone. Yes, he said something hateful and unallowable. But it is never okay to hit another soul.

As I replay Friday, I am somewhat confounded and alarmed with the intensity of my reaction, the speed with which I responded, the rage that hadn't existed a moment before. I don't feel shame, but feel I should feel shame. Neither do I feel heroic, though Peter is treating it with more respect than is warranted.

I just need some time to sort through it. And, in the meantime, I have to wonder how the guy is? What does he look like? Is he badly hurt?

What happened Friday night.

It's easiest just to write it here and not have to answer tons of questions. Anyway, I am fine. Bottom line: I got into an old-fashioned fist fight. I'd gotten home from the Friday session at church and gone back out for chips and stuff. A guy outside the store said "Die faggot". Punches were thrown, one connecting with my face. Nothing broke --- not my glasses, not a tooth. I have a few nasty looking wounds but they will heal. I wrenched my neck somehow and that is the most annoying part. Anyway, people pulled us apart very quickly, I went home and cleaned up and went to bed. It looks much worse than it feels.

What confounds me is that I did not do what I would tell anyone to do. I should have simply turned around and walked away. It's what I would tell any one of my kids at church to do. It's what I believe. But that is not what I did and I regret it.

Again, I am fine. I'm not afraid or thrown or ashamed or any of the things I probably should be. That's about it, there is nothing more to say. So, many many thanks for your concern.

Candy And Dorothy

My ex, David Johnston, is one helluva talented playwright. One of his best works, the fantasy Candy And Dorothy, is being read this weekend for backers, etc. with an eye toward a run off-Broadway this Fall. The splendid cast from the 2006 run, including Drama Desk nominee Vince Gatton, is returning (at least in part). To make a reservation, hit David up at dhjnyc@att.net.

Patty Decker, of all people!!!

She was one of the early loves of my life. I met Patty Decker almost the day I arrived at Loyola University of Chicago in 1977. She was pretty, funny, bright as a whip, and knew about things like Bruce Springstein and Linda Ronstadt, the Son of Sam and baseball corruption. I did not!!! She hailed from Flowertown, PA and we were both so fresh and open to adventure. Then she fell in love with another Tim and I fell in love with The Rose of Sharon and Patty Decker and I drifted from each others lives.

And I found out today --- she reads my blog!!! After googling me some time she found this site and e-mailed me today! I am soooooo delighted. I haven't seen Patty (or, Ma Decker as called her) in 28 years. We're going to do coffee!

She teaches at Tisch!

I am just tickled.

New Ideas on Psalm 23

The devotion led Sunday morning for the Religious Sudies leaders at West End Collegiate Church fell to a man named Bob, a judge in Albany and one of the pillars of WECC. He deconstructed Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd...").

Everone knows it rather inside and out, but Bob journeyed through its imagery and the journey of the speaker from symbolic sheep or lamb to fully restored human.

It was a smart and carefully considered examination, but what intrigued me most was Bob's take on one of the lines as opposed to the interpretation I've always assumed and never questioned.

The line is this: "Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over." I guess the intrigue was over the interpretation of the word table. For Bob it meant a dinner table. I will feed you to show your enemies that you are provided for. You shall be sustained. You shall be given more than you can possibly consume. I had always envisioned the table as an altar, meaning to me that you shall always, even in the midst of strife, be able to find comfort in prayer and consolation with God. Two similar yet definitely, if subtly differing interps.

I love parsing the Bible and belong to that group of folks who actually read it faithfully. Bob and I need to sit down and compare notes on the thornier parts (for instance, that nutcase Jael in Judges. That dame needs help!).

Tonight's Rehearsal

So, the next few months are largely devoted to the creation of three promotional CDs I've been advised to compile. The first, "Songs from The Conjuring", is exactly what it says and I will use the lovely and talented Abigail Taylor (see prior blogs) and the Peter Proctor (see maaaany prior blogs) in the leads. "My First Mistakes: Songs by Timothy Mathis", is just me doing a dozen of my numbers. The third, "Miracle Time", is a celebration of my friends doing all sorts of things I've written.

It's this CD that goes into rehearsal tonight. Missy Abigail will go over "Waterloo" from IOWA 08. The song was written for her to do, but a production conflict prevented that. The upshot is that the wonderful Jessica Carter knocked it out of the ballpark in last Summer's production at the Vineyard Theater. She'll record it one day too, I hope. Michael Santora and I will work on our premiere collaboration, probably "Beautiful To Me", the power ballade from The Conjuring. It should be fun.

Abigail is one of the joys of my life and Michael is a gorgeously-voiced All-American athlete who sings like a dream. When I took several of my WECC kids to see a Passion play Michael was in, the Eighth Grade boys were dazzled by the fact that his resume claims he can do a "26 inch vertical jump and dunk a basketball".

In the photos above, Michael is the boy, Abigail the girl.

Date Bait Update

What a trip!

As you know, my bud Robin and I headed South to the Village Saturday to participate in Date Bait, the program designed to introduce relationship-minded men to relationship-minded men. We were ushered into a largeish room on the upper floor of the GLBT Center, which eventually filled with 67 guys lookin' for love. The nice thing is, that truly is what most of them are looking for. With the internet and Fairway's frozen foods section being what they are, never has it been easier to score sex, if that's all you want. So, to pay twenty bucks for the humiliation of saying, "Yes, I am looking for more. Are you?" already speaks volumes about the participants.

So, first of all, 67 is too many. It took a long time to go around the room introducing ourselves (we each got a minute, but, let's face it: that's more than enough time for me to look cute and garner a few good laughs). The room was packed. I never even got a good look at many of the guys. And when the open-socializing thirty minutes happened, it was a scramble just to remember who I'd though might be a potential. As for the guys? Many were too young for me. Many were too old. Of the 67, I could identify maybe twenty I would gladly meet in the social half hour. But remember, that amounts to 1.5 minutes each!!! Anyway, I got to speak to about half the guys I zeroed in on. Everybody scored their SAT-like cards with who they'd go on a date with and a computer matched like-minded folks. 68% of the guys there ended up with a match, 32% ended up with 2 or more. My final tally was 3 (it was initially 2, but on the subway home I ran into a guy who hadn't been able to find me in the crush). Three nice guys, one of whom is great looking, one of whom is 6'6", one of whom is losing his hair. Three nice picks!!!

So would I recommend? Not to the feint of heart. It's very commando. Robin hated it, but did end up going on a date with the room's favorite hottie. I had, if not a blast, a good time. I've had one of my three dates and it was nice. We will go out again.

I think Robin and I will return for QwikDates, which is a bit more structured. Anyway, being open to the possibility is good. I hate to think of turning fifty as a single man. I mean that.

So, my friends, we shall see!

Aaron's Staff

It really is the best book ever written.

So, I've been spending a fair anount of time reading the Bible recently and last night was enchanted but a story I hadn't thought about in years. I was working through Numbers, which can be a yawner, when I came upon the leaders of the tribes of Israel rising in revolt, readying to overthrow the leadership of Aaron and Moses. Moses asks the leaders of each tribe to loan him their staffs. He places them overnight in the tabenacle. In the morning he retrieves them, but Aaron's staff has sprouted blossoms and leaves, showing God's preference that they keep to the original plan. What a pretty story. Simple, clear, surprising. The episode is used to lovely effect in the film Enchanted April.

BLESSED EASTER TO YOU ALL

It's one of my favorite days of the year. May God's blessings illuminate all of our lives.

Know what I'm doing tonight ?!?!?!?!?

DATE BAIT!

That's right --- I'm going to the GLBT Center in the Village, where this room fills up with dudes who all want to date somebody or love somebody or not die alone or something like that. You have a minute to introduce yourself, then you go on teeny tiny three minute dates, changing guys with the bell. After you've "dated" everybody, you write the numbers of those you'd consider actually dating on a card, it's fed into a computer, if there's a match you get each other's info and can love be far behind? I think it sounds like a hoot and I'll gladly give it the old college try. My buddy Robin, who is irreverent and hilarious, is attending with me. Cross your fingers and wish me luck!!!!!!!!!!

Holy Saturday with MCCNY

For many years the most important thing in my life was my relationship with my church, Metropolitan Community Church of New York. I worshipped there, worked there, was a deacon and occasional preacher. I sang there and wrote the mini-musical that, quite accidentally, launched my songwriting career.

As the years went on, particularly those spent with David, I drifted away from MCCNY and the beloved friends there. Recently I've felt the need to reconnnect, so I went today to the annual Holy Saturday banquet. WHAT JOY!!! People I used to see many times a week but haven't seen in years treated me like the, well, prodigal son. The fatted calf better watch his back.

And I saw Noah, one of my most beloved people. As always, it was like we were still roomates in Astoria sharing every aspect of our lives. Noah's journey is one of fantastic courage and insight. I met Noah as Nancy who then quickly bacame Buddy who eventually transitioned completely as Noah. I adore him.

It just was soooooooo good to see these folks. Dolly will probably go away again, but she won't stay so long.

And speaking of tattoos...

I'm thinking very seriously of getting one. I've always found them a bit of a turnoff, but I've dated several members of the inked-up crowd recently and am turning around on the subject. And I'm living a bit "edgier" these days if that means anything. I've seen this guy, Luis, a few times. Okay, he's twenty-five and a hotel bellhop, but he's smart and fun. Anyway, his entire back is covered with a full color rendering of some Hindu goddess or other doing a dance and I really like it. However, I mentioned to another friend that I might get a tattoo of something like a sunburst on my left hip. He replied: "You do anything to that gorgeous ass and I shoot you dead". What's a boy to do?

Okay, I watched!!!

I couldn't help it. I mean Idol. My friend Michele showed up to hang out and we watched together. So, she isn't a Melinda Doolittle for me, but I love Carly Smithson. With a voice like that I can see beyond the tattoo. She sang "Blackbird", a song I think is gorgeous, and did it lovely justice.

Carly won me a few weeks ago when she sang "The Shadow of Your Smile". I've thought all my life that "Shadow" is one lovely song. My favorite thing about it (and it gets me every time) is the wonderful, unexpected flatted note at the end of the first line ("The shadow of your smile/when you/are gone...). It is so perfect it makes me shiver every time I hear the song.

Beyond Carly I have to admit that, yes, I like David Archuleta. Is that wrong?

To Idol or not to Idol…

It’s on again tonight (it’s always on!) and what do I do? I am resistant to falling into the American Idol trap again. Last year it was Peter’s fault. If I do it again, it’s mine!

It just that it takes so much time! However, my roomie has Tivo, so we can replay it at 2am if it suits us and we can skip all those endless commercials. I do like four of the remaining eleven contestants and can see any one of them winning, though none of them is a Melinda Doolittle (that girl was robbed).

What’s a boy to do?

Two Anniversaries…

This Sunday, March 23rd would have been, in a happier world, my sixth anniversary with playwright David Johnston. A handful of days later will mark the second anniversary of our breakup. I’ve been taking stock in many ways and thinking on the wisdom and very intended kindness of friends.

A few months after the 2006 breakup, with my health blind sighted and my life in shambles, one of my friends said something that would be echoed by others for months to come: “Every day it will be a little bit better”. While I hoped what she said was right (what, indeed, so many said), I doubted it.

And, as it is, they were right and they were wrong. I think it is a matter of semantics. Better? No. The pain and loss I feel today are no smaller than they were in April of 2006. The only “better” there is would be building some sort of positive relationship with David out of the nothingness we have now. That would be better. What does happen, though, is that coping techniques and survival strategies slip quietly in. I think the word they meant was “easier”. Yes, every day the skills for dealing with the loss and pain become more masterly and working with the emotional realities does become an easier thing in my day.

And as for better? We’ll have to wait and see.

How I shall devil my eggs...

I don't care much for hard-boiled eggs, but mash those yolks, swirl in some fat, spice 'em up, refill the whites and you got some good eatin'! I love deviled eggs in all variations: traditional, dusted with paprika, jeweled with bits of pickle relish. Here is what I am doing this Easter with all those colored eggs:

Curried Deviled Eggs

Peel and halve 8 eggs, removing the yolks to a mixing bowl. Mash the yolks until smooth and add 1/3 cup mayonnaise. Cream to desired consistency. Mix in two teaspoons of finely diced red onion, 1 teaspoon curry powder, and salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste. Pipe the egg mixture back into the whites using a pastry bag or disposable sandwich bag with one corner snipped off. Cover and refrigerate before serving. Makes 16 halves.

Tip: Before refilling the whites with the yolk mixture, try gently dusting them with a tiny bit of cumin.

Yummy!

Three absolutely shocking Genesis stories...

While I go on and on about Jacob (see previous blog), there are some pretty shocking tales tucked into the larger landscape of Genesis. Do you know what happened to Dinah? It's horrible. Can you recall what Lot's daughters did when all the men of Sodom and Gomorrah died? How did things turn out between Noah and Ham, his son?

Not to mention Judah and Tamar, Abram and Sarai lying their way though Egypt. The baffling benevolence of a stranger named Melchizedek. Strange little side tales in this amazing epic. I am thoroughly enjoying myself!!!

Jacob was a rat!

For many years I spent Holy Week performing a beloved tradition. I would curl up with a good book. Or rather, four. From Loyola University onward I took the days between Palm Sunday and Easter to re-read the Gospels that make up the heart (along with Acts) of the Christian bible. Somehow, during the years I spent with my ex, this tradition dropped away but I happily took it up again last year (along with watching annual broadcasts of The Ten Commandments, a film that has virtually nothing to do with the Easter story).

So, a few days ago I opened my grandfather's bible with every intention of starting with Mark (I always start with Mark, the oldest of the gospels and the one that seems, at least to me, to demand the greatest amount of faith to buy into it). But I didn't go there. Instead I started "In the beginning" and I've been working my way studying Genesis, a book of astounding beauty and really shocking storylines.

And some real heels!

I am a second son and, like most second sons, have spent a goodly part of my life resenting it deeply. But that's another blog. God, my poor brother Michael (still another blog). Anyway, last night I really struggled reconciling the biggest jerk in the bible thus far, Jacob.

Jacob is born moments after his older brother Esau, clutching the wildly hirsute big bro's ankle, presumably seeking the earliest opportunity to snap it. Esau goes into the world, making his way, providing his family with meat. Jacob stays at home futzing in the kitchen and undoubtedly making clever origami menageries. Esau, not a mental giant, is easily manipulated out of his birthright by Jacob and a particularly inviting stew. Then Jacob plots with his mother to steal the elder boy's blessing by tricking their poor blind father by dressing in animal skins and Esau's coat, which smelt of him (to Esau's detriment, had he been a bit tidier in the hygiene department things might have turned out differently).

So, Jacob steals just about everything from his brother then, fearing Esau might try to pull a Cain, sneaks off to the north to find a bride.

But get this: this robber, liar, manipulator extraordinaire is granted, his first night away from the tent, with a dream: angels going up a ladder and back down, with God atop saying "Hey, kid, you rock. This is all for you". Then he meets his dreamgirl.

Rachel and Jacob go ga-ga for each other, but in Laban, Rachel's dad, Jacob meets a craftier con man than he. Laban tricks him into the wrong daughter as bride (Leah has "weak eyes") and fourteen years of labor before he can have the one he wants. Serves him right. But Jacob prospers, makes his way back home (a trip that involves a little larceny on his beautiful bride's part), and prepares to meet face to face --- after twenty years --- with his brother who approaches with an army of 400.

So the night before he meets up with his vengeful brother, presuming this night will be his last, Jacob tries to sleep, but is accosted in the night by a stranger who wrestles with him (without provocation) even to the point of knocking his hip socket out of joint. But Jacob won't have any part of giving up or giving in and, come the dawn, the stranger makes peace and walks away.

There are many interpretations of who this was. An angel testing Jacob? A manifestation of the divine spirit that will become Jesus (many theologians believe the pre-human Jesus makes several guest appearances in the Jewish bible)? God proper? You got me. But I know why Jacob wouldn't give in. Even if it meant his very death, Jacob was by no means coming this far and giving up his only chance to make things right with his brother.

And, when Jacob and Esau finally meet face to face, what does Esau do?

He throws his arms around Jacob and kisses him.

Big brothers. Go figure.

MCCNY's Holy Saturday Luncheon

It's that time again! MCCNY has a long tradition of breaking bread as a community the day before Easter. The luncheon will be, as it has been for several years, at the refectory at Union Theological Seminary, 3041 Broadway and the time is 3pm. The suggested donation is $60.

It's always a special experience. See you there!

And just guess what I am doing Saturday evening after the luncheon???

My Easter Project

This Holy Week, as I force perfectly lovely eggs to don hues they were never meant to sport, I am exploring a new method. I am coloring with all-natural dyes provided from Mother You-Know-Who!

Fret not. I am not going all granola on all of you.

I’ve just seen in recent years some eggs with really delicate, subtle hues that were derived from things like strong tea and boiled onion skins.

So, I’ll let you know how it turns out. I feel sure that, not rendering the perfect violet egg of my Easter dreams, I shall invest all the same in a Paas kit.

My method: Put eggs in pan, covering with an excess of an inch of water over their tops. Add a teaspoon of white vinegar (some folks say salt). Add coloring ingredient. Boil. For lighter shades, turn heat off when a rolling boil is achieved. For darker colors, reduce to simmer when rolling boil is achieved and simmer 15 minutes. Fish them out, let them dry, accept the generous oohs and ahs of friends who both admire you and worry for you.

Natural dying agents:

For Red: boiled red onion skins; Orange: boiled yellow onion skins; Yellow: boiled carrot tops with cumin; Green: boiled spinach leaves; Blue: boiled red cabbage; Purple: straight grape juice; Magenta: straight beet juice; Brown: strong coffee; Beige: strong tea.

The Yumminess of Silence (accompanied by piano)

I caught Buster Keaton and Harry Langford last weekend in wonderful silent comedies at the New York Historical Society. The Silent Clowns Film Series and other wonderful programs of silent films play there occasionally throughtout the year. This is a boon to someone who includes Sunrise and Broken Blossoms on his list of favorite films.

I particularly loved Seven Chances, the Keaton piece. I'm not a slapstick guy, but every time Keaton turns a corner and is accosted by a hilarious throng of furious, spurned wanna-be brides, I howl with laughter. I loved it. And the premiere of a just-restored, early, two-strip technicolor sequence at the beginning was a treat to see.

The biggest treat, though, is the expert live accompaniment of the brilliant Ben Model. Bravo, dude! Thanks for keeping your art alive for at least a few more generations.

Speaking of generations, the biggest laughers in the packed house were the under-12 set,who found both of the comedies hysterical. That is neat!!!

A Current Project...

This is the big project just now at Auburn Seminary, where I work. If you'd like to attend, email me at timothyjmathis@gmail.com.

******************************

Hosted by President Barbara G. Wheeler and
Executive Vice President Katharine R. Henderson
of Auburn Theological Seminary

Honoring Kathleen Kennedy Townsend, Barbara Friedman, and Farhana Khera


Monday, April 14, 2008
THE GRAND BALLROOM
at the WALDORF-ASTORIA
301 Park Avenue between 49th and 50th Streets
7:30-9:00 AM

Please RSVP by Monday, April 7

The AUBURN Lives of Commitment Breakfast is a
multifaith, intergenerational event honoring women
whose lives demonstrate a powerful commitment
to the common good.
The event is a window into
Auburn's work across lines of religious difference to create a more peaceful and just society--

WHERE RELIGIOUS COMMITMENTS
MEET CONTEMPORARY CHALLENGES.

Palm Sunday at West End Collegiate Church

Please join the congregation of West End Collegiate Church (where I am Children’s Choir/Youth Director) this coming Sunday at 10:45 as we march through the West 70s and Riverside Park, bearing palm branches, proclaiming the good news that the realm of God is at hand. We’ll meet at 77th and West End Avenue and take off from there.

For the record:

I totally understand male carnal desire. I am completely sympathetic to the need to seek fulfillment outside of a relationship if those longings are no longer being met within it. The erosion of a love life within a commited couple can be pretty tough on the one who hasn't eroded. I am a proponent for the legalization (even unionization) of prostitution. It has worked splendidly in the Netherlands.

That said, I could slap Elliott Spitzer.

If his randy past costs us even one seat in Albany in November, I swear I shall seek him out and bitch-slap him to the ground.

Sexual Paranoia in the Big Country...

Ashley Dupre, nee Youmans, age 22, $4300.00.

David Hernandez, age 24, $40.00.

That's a BIG margin. But the entertainment Ms. Dupre offered compared to the "lap dance" offered by stripper-turned-singer Hernandez have had, at least in the short term for them, the same staggering effect.

Sexual paranoia has reared its filthy, persistant head again. A bright, powerful, very possible political hope has been crushed this week because of a liaison in a Washington hotel suite with Dupre. The ethics in question are up for debate and very personal. The "victimless" aspect of prostitution has intelligent arguments both pro and con. The trafficking of anyone against their will is egregious and must be stopped. Consensual sex between adults, even if one is benefitting financially? I am so totally okay with that.

But Ms. Youmans will be now, regardless of whatever she achieves in her future, cast under the same shadow that accompanies Monica Lewinsky and Vanessa Williams. Case in point: Williams lost her Miss America title more than twenty years ago when nude, lesbian themed pictures of her pre-crown were published. Yet it was the thrust just two weeks ago of a Barbara Walters interview. It is still an issue.

As for Mr. Hernandez? Two weeks ago he was a front runner for the title of this years American Idol. Then photos and stories hit the internet about his employment at primarily gay establishments in Phoenix as bartender (confirmed), stripper (confirmed), lap dancer (confirmed) and call boy (unconfirmed). Hernandez has been mum, but the man who blew the roof off two weeks ago with "Poppa Was a Rolling Stone" almost came undone on Tuesday with a frantic, desperately hetero rendition of "I Saw Her Standing There". He was summarily sent packing last night.

Was he the worst this week? No. Is he the victim of bad press backlash? Definitely. That backlash reacts to information that is salacious because it is sexual, and especially so because Hernandez's clientele was gay.

Last week the American public sent home an Idol contestant who was far from the worst singer (in fact, he was pretty good). What he was was a flaming queen and America cannot have that. The butcher Hernandez was a fave until his gay or at least gay-for-pay past cropped up. Then the door.

Sylvia said "We have come so far and we have so far to go".

Amen sister.

Robert's lucky women...

I’ve just read the loveliest thing. It’s a small, smart, gorgeously written, deeply felt book about several wonderful women called Lucky 7. And it just so happens that my delicious friend Robert Montagnese wrote it!

It’s a total love letter to women (Robert is a great lover of beautiful women) who have moved Robert. Changed Robert. Ennobled and enhanced Robert. Each of the seven stories made me laugh and they each made me cry. It’s probably one of those books wherein every reading sparks a different reaction, depending on one’s disposition at the time. On a first time through I particularly responded to Lisanne and Sue.

The link to pick up a copy is:

http://www.amazon.com/LUCKY-7-ROBERT-MONTAGNESE/dp/1434308693/ref=pd_bbs_sr_3/105-9478124-0374814?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1204731889&sr=8-3

Well done, Mr. Montagnese.

The lovely, the vivacious, the talented...

Miss Abigail Taylor!

That's who I get to rehearse with tonight. At long last I am recording the score of The Conjuring from top to bottom and Missy Taylor is singing the starring role of Kakie. This is the show that is the home of "My First Mistake", which is one of the more popular of my songs. My friend Wayne Blood did an amazing orchestration of it a few years ago, my friend Peter (yes, the Peter Proctor) did a fantastic pop recording that acheived some notice and acclaim. Lisa has sung it, Ruth has sung it, Rebecca Soler has sung it, Barbara has sung it, Patrick has sung it. Hell, even I have sung it.

And now Miss Taylor. Abigail has a clear, bright, elegant voice that is simply gorgeous and I am anxious to hear her wrap it around things like "When I Imagined Me", "Go Another Way", "In The Light", and of course "Mistake". It's an exciting project. Here we go!!!

Revisiting the Centurion

I'm really looking forward to Friday night. The church where I work (West End Collegiate) is hosting a weekend-long seminar with NOBS, the Network of Biblical Storytellers. I am honored (I'm not a member) to have been asked to perform at the opening event.

In addition to my pop ballad "Miracle Time", I'll be singing a number from Our Story Too called "Heal My Heart". OST is a piece I wrote ten years ago (!) that tells several Bible stories from a gay point of view, with "Heal My Heart" as the eleven-o-clock number. It celebrates Matthew 8:5-13, the tale of the Centurion begging Jesus to heal his servant. The story is 'ere long controversial because of the specific type of servant in question. The word in the ancient Greek text is "pice", which was a young, favored slave boy used for sex by the upper classes and particularly the military. For centuries bibles have whitewashed it as simply "servant", in reality a much more authentic translation, at least in modern terms, would be "lover". That Jesus endorses and blesses the union between two men is a fact that, at least in years recent, is starting to be acknowledged and understood and embraced.

Anyway, "Heal My Heart", performed as a trio in OST, is a number I have never performed. Revisiting and rehearsing it over the weekend was like lunch with a dear friend. I will be so happy to do it Friday for a group of people dedicated to telling and interpreting gospel.

My weekend...

Since last we spoke I escorted a group of teenagers to a Passion Play, baked a cake, attended a strategy meeting for an upcoming project, watched All About Eve, read a book a friend wrote (bravo, by the way), attended church, taught the childrens choir their role in the Palm Sunday anthem, had lunch with a friend, fiddled with the Lucy/George duet in Room with a View, attended another meeting for yet another project (the August trip to New Orleans to help rebuild), watched the DVD of my October concert to remember how to play "Miracle Time" on the piano, yacked on the phone with Momma, Peter, Lori etc., and went to bed. And now I'm back at my desk at the seminary. Busy, tiring, necessary.