Luz on Queer Eye for the Straight Girl

luz.gif Our (Katina and me) friend Luz Herrera will be on TV. Luz is very, very cool, and I think still single. Anyhow, I'm very happy for her and maybe she can go on and do some sort of tv career – she's cute enough for it.

Everyone is getting on tv this year it's amazing, Blake on ABC News, I got on German TV somehow, my friend Christine was dancing with her team on the Letterman show, and now Luz.

Is our house too blue?

Here are some more photos.

We need some help here. We just painted our house a "post card perfect" blue. We need a second opinion.

– Is the house too blue and repaint, or should we keep this color?

The reason we ask is that it seems to be a very bright blue and it doesn't really match the neighborhood, it stands out a bit.

But we have gotten some compliments from neighbors, but they could also be trying to be nice.

Ode to a Cool Sister

Ode to a Cool Sister

Cezanne and his workshop,
two sunny eggs pierced with a fork,
at Pugsleys and "there" killer blueberry muffins
served in a red basket with a large pat of butter.

Across the country and back three many times
I knew I shouldn't have had that pork cutlet
and that cheddar cheese ice cream with corn bits.

An educated fool with money on my mind.
It didn't work out with me an your mom.
Bonjour tous le monde, bonjour. Wait,
I don't speak French. Or do I.
To the East Fabrice. To the tire swings we'll meet.

Those coupons are expired. Fuck, shit,
why don't you go read a book. And while "your"
at it, get me some pudding. And a pair of Doc Martens
with some clotted cream. Is it soft? Peut-etre.

Victoria Falls, Turkey, Israel, Thailand,
well I've been to South Carolina, Myrtle Beach
Damn it, I need to rest. Can you wait?
I'm scared. There are no handrails at the steps
of Rome. Suck it up 'ol man. So how many toes
do you have?

Some birds aren't meant to be caged while some birds
vanish like a fart in the wind. Get busy living. Wish
I could come with you. You're only 34. I think.



Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel faces down frost;
green thrives; the crops don't fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen to you.

–Sheenagh Pugh


In the middle of
a chilly-warm Spring downpour,
he blossoms
tall and eagle-eyed in the sky
raining sol onto my skin,
petals of light, licking
the cold bottoms of my feet,
warmth that rises
to heat the wings that lift me up
buzzing, buzzing
near the branches of waking cherry trees.
He tickles aching buds
that burst
with joyful laughter.
His light is the loving kiss
of possession
that turns my breath
to happy song.
More priceless than still life,
precious as once-given gifts,
this sudden shower
of god-like sunshine.

– KA

cientos poemas del amor como prometí

Number 1

Tell me you love me because you know you do.
Rain reminds me of that night,
a struggle to say a few simple words
the rhythm of your tears on my chest matched
the rain drops on the earth.

Tell me you love me because you know you do.
I see those words etched through the shadow
of my face, behind those brown eyes
Have you not been loved before?
Don't you know what it means?

Tell me you love me because you know you do.
The smell of you gives me comfort.
Inhale. Inhale and breathe you in so there's nothing
left in me. Let my skin smell like you.

Tell me you love me because you know you do.
I shout for the third time. Clutching you safe.
Shaking, trusting, not knowing, out of place.
What's the answer? What do I say?
Say nothing and he will go away. But he's not leaving.

Tell me you love me because you know you do.
I love you. And I love you too.

Number 2

Number 2

A basket of orchids and a poem,
not mine someone else's words
who can honor you the way I wish I could.
Too afraid to say how I feel.

A long basket from home,
to carry three stems of cymbidium
the most fragrant I could afford.

Whispers as you stroll through the large halls
with your basket now covered
no one carries baskets anymore.

The "Risks" poem

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out to another is to risk involvement.
To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
To place your dreams, ideas before a crowd is to risk their loss.
To love is risk not being loved in return.
To live is to risk dying.
To hope is to risk despair.
To try is to risk failure.

But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, and is nothing.
They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live.
Chained by their certitudes, they are a slave: they have forfeited their freedom.

Only a person who risks is truly free.

— Anonymous (?)

I got this poem the summer of '93 I believe, a turning point Summer for me when I also went to the Philippines for the first time since immigrating to the US in 1981. Paper is neat, I still have my original print out from way back then.