Here’s What I Think…

I saw the Democratic You Tube Debate on CNN the other night, and was very impressed with the top two candidates for the Democratic Party, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama.  Hillary came across as self-assured, experienced, and definitely presidential.  Barack oozed confidence and charm, and seemed the best hope for change.  I would be happy with either one of them as my President (of course, given our current administration, I’d be happy with just about anyone).  But over the last couple of days I’ve been disillusioned by their sniping at one another stemming from a question that asked, “Would you meet with leaders in the Middle East during the first year of your presidency?”  Obama was quick to say yes, a clear reaction to the Bush Administration’s policy of punishing these countries by ignoring them.  It was a heartfelt, smart answer.  Hillary, on the other hand, would not commit, explaining she would make damn sure before meeting with anyone that it was not designed for propaganda.  Made perfect sense to me.  But both camps are now taking potshots at one another—Hillary’s people calling Barack naïve and Barack’s people hammering Hillary’s misguided vote to authorize the war.  Enough!  I know they’re both fighting for the nomination and will do whatever they can to get there, but frankly, it depresses me to see them going after each other.  No matter which one winds up the Democratic nominee, it will be a welcome symbol of much needed change in this country.  Imagine, our next President could be a woman or an African American man.  And wouldn’t it be mind-blowing if the ticket had both?  I’m crossing my fingers Hillary and Barack will see how advantageous their current rival would be as a running mate.  I’m just grateful that in my lifetime this kind of scenario is a distinct possibility.

Just back from a glorious two and a half week vacation to Spain and Greece with one final night in London clinking beer mugs with a bunch of rowdy, drunken Brits at a karaoke night in a small, hot and sweaty pub off New Oxford Street.  After buzzing around Madrid with a friendly Art History Professor I met and enjoying the many pleasures of what might be my favorite city in the world, I switched gears after a quick two day stay in Athens (the Acropolis still takes my breath away) when I arrived on the small island of Mykonos.  My best buddy Rob was already there.  A social butterfly to rival all social butterflies, Rob had laid the groundwork and lined up a bunch of new friends for us.  He introduced me to a boisterous, fun-loving group of Austrians, who tooled around the island with us all week and are now lobbying for us to come and visit them in Vienna for Thanksgiving.  I also met some terrific Americans, including a former drag queen with Barbra Streisand tattoos who is now a true Angel of Mercy working in a Manhattan cancer ward.  God bless him.  I got a massage at the beach, relished my banana daquiris while watching the spectacular Mykonos sunsets, gained about a hundred pounds at the world class island restaurants, and felt truly welcomed by the friendly, warm staff at the Hotel Rochari, a charming hotel perched on a hill overlooking the gorgeous views of Mykonos Town and the Aegean Sea. Rob was reading my new novel Fingerprints & Facelifts and got plenty of inquiries given the bright, colorful cover so it provided both of us with ample opportunities to shamelessly promote the hell out of it.  I still marvel at how a straight, married with kids staff artist at Kensington Publishing could design such a gaytastic cover.  But my thanks go out to Louis Malcangi who did just that. After my quick stopover in London, I flew back to LA and was finally hit by reality.  It’s time to focus on a slew of work deadlines.  First, I have to meet with Robert Gant the Queer as Folk actor who is attached to produce and star in my Logo pilot The Gayonic Man as we try to whip that baby into shape.  I’m also getting producer notes on my Lifetime/Lionsgate TV Movie/Backdoor Pilot Bailey Weggins.  That project is based on the books by Kate White, former Editor in Chief of Cosmopolitan.  I read her latest entry in the series, Lethally Blonde, while on vacation and I really feel I’ve captured the voice of her character in my script, although I won’t know for sure until Kate actually reads the script, or watches the final product if it gets made.  I’m hopeful that she will not be disappointed.  I also have to fine tune a Fox TV Studios pitch and there are a few other irons in the fire that need tending.  But most of all, I’m hoping the new book does well enough to warrant another title in the series because I’ve grown quite fond of my three leading characters and want to visit them again. I have a lot of TV viewing to catch up on now that I’m back in the States including the new seasons of Monk and Psych, two very funny private eye shows on USA, as well as that network’s newest character action piece Burn Notice, which I hear terrific things about.  Also on my Tivo Playlist are missed episodes of Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D List, which I think is one of the strongest reality programs on TV this summer. Still, with all this new programming for me to watch, I’m heading straight to Amoeba Records in Hollywood after my meeting with Robert Gant to buy The Rookies: The Complete First Season starring Kate Jackson and Michael Ontkean (who went on to star together in the dated but still deliciously watchable big studio gay movie Making Love).  Yes, after two weeks of dancing in Madrid’s discos, soaking up the sun on a picturesque Greek isle and hobnobbing with a Bollywood stage actor in an out of the way English pub that opened in the 18^th century, what do I do for fun when I get back to LA?  I watch multiple episodes of a barely remembered Aaron Spelling cop show from the seventies.  I love my life.  No, really.  I do.  Seriously. 

The weather in Spain has been perfect.  Not too hot, unlike Athens which is enduring a record breaking heat wave.  I’m praying it subsides by the time I arrive on Thursday.  I don’t do well in the heat.  In the meantime, I’m enjoying life in Madrid.  I took a Spanish course for nearly a year in LA and came away with a few greetings and salutations and not much else.  That’s because our Argentinean instructor loved to gossip and chat (in English, no less) during most of the class so I never felt the need to finish all of my homework.  Then she went off to have a baby, and was replaced by a much tougher and less forgiving ball buster.  After a few weeks of her, I dropped the course.  But my language barrier doesn’t seem to be too much of an issue here.  I have met several people who don’t speak a word of English, but there’s always someone around to translate the basics.  This is my third time in Madrid, and I feel like I know the city, so when I walk down the street, I never get lost.  The problem is, everybody is so beautiful here (both men and women) that I’m too busy staring, I rarely watch where I’m going.  If I’m not careful, I’ll be mowed down by a car (a fuel efficiency one, of course, since people in Europe seem to be more conservation minded than the majority of Americans). I had to indulge on an expensive pair of sunglasses because I didn’t want to risk a gorgeous Spaniard yelling, “Why won’t that crazy American stop looking at me like that?”  Now behind the protective shades of Calvin Klein, I can appreciate the local people without them thinking I’m a stalker.  It was Euro Pride here in the city over the weekend, and though my friends in Los Angeles refuse to believe I had no idea my time here would coincide with this major festival that draws hundreds of thousands of gay people and their friends from all over Europe and the world, I swear it was just a happy accident.  I ventured out during the parade, and was struck by the variety of people swarming the streets—grandmothers, straight couples, children, all clapping their hands and singing along as seventy-five floats sporting scores of bare-chested men (not to mention a few women) dancing and waving to the crowd passed by.  I got a lump in my throat as I watched this city come together, regardless of sexual orientation, and celebrate the joys of our differences.  We’re getting there in the U.S., but we’re not even close to the acceptance in European cities like Madrid. There have been a few hiccups on this journey.  I lost my cash card (but thanks to a chipper Art teacher from outside Madrid who helped me dial my bank in the states the card was quickly blocked).  And I did experience a computer problem which slowed down my progress on The Gayonic Man script rewrite I was supposed to send to my fellow Executive Producer (and star) Robert Gant.  But those are just a couple of little annoyances that have hardly clouded an incredibly memorable trip.   I’ve run into so many people I met on my last journey to Spain.  A bartender who remembered me from over a year and a half ago stopped me in the street to say hello.  A former LA resident who moved back to his hometown of Madrid saw me in the crowd during a street concert and called out to me.  And there was a French teacher from the Canary Islands I met the last time who I ran into in a tiny sing-a-long bar.  Yes, for a big city, I feel like it’s a small town where everybody knows me.  I’ve also met some wonderful new people.  An Art History Professor (yes, a lot of people I meet seem to be artists or teach art or languages) took me to a wonderful restaurant I never would have found on my own, two fun-loving Spaniards who sang along with me to the Donna Summer/Barbra Streisand classic “Enough is Enough” in a packed, sweaty bar swept me away to several discos, and by the time we stumbled out of the last one, it was bright outside and going on eight a.m.  In LA, I’m way too old to be doing this.  Here, it seems perfectly natural.  Of course, I only do this as research for my writing.  You never know where a new story may come from… WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T BELIEVE ME? I am hearing a few tidbits that are happening in the real world—President Bush commuting Scooter Libby’s prison sentence (Just when you think they can’t sink any lower…), the failed terrorist attack in London (on the same day I changed planes in Heathrow which may explain the extra security measures that nearly made me miss my British Airways connection to Madrid); the exploding car in Glasgow.  I keep tabs on everything by watching the International CNN station and BBC World News in my hotel room.  News over here seems to be a lot less white-washed than it is in the U.S.  But enough of that, I’m on vacation.  I’m sad my time in Madrid is coming to a close.  Tomorrow it’s off to Athens and then the island of Mykonos where I will join my friend Rob.  I don’t want this to end!  Today is just another ordinary day in Spain, but I know at home it’s the Fourth of July, so I hope everyone’s barbecuing.  I’m having lunch later with that Art History Professor.  I still have to indulge in a traditional Spanish favorite, Paella, washed down with some sangria, of course.  It’s research!  WHY DON’T YOU BELIEVE ME?