New Day #3

Today I ate strange fruit. Yeah, I know, takes one to know one. I generally resist fruit, preferring my carbs from chocolate, the brown food group. And strange fruit makes me nervous.

I also feel bad calling it strange fruit, because that's the same title as the Billie Holliday song about lynching. But tonight was the meeting of the Big Brain Trust, my writers' group, and I had to bring something. I chose star fruit, which tastes like frozen Kool-Aid, and persimmons, which are smooth and fleshy and delicious, like the author himself.

FYI, it's much more fun to say the word "persimmon" with a lisp.

Here's McKinley from the band Dirty Martini with the strange fruit.

New Day #2

When asking "what's new?" I have to consider "what is new?" Yesterday I went to a reading of a new play by Jason Grote , which was very funny until it turned out to be about incest. (Note to self: no one has yet to write a really good incest comedy.) But I had to ask: does seeing a new play count? I mean, the play was new, but going to a play certainly is not. So the experience isn't entirely new. But can anything be entirely new?

I decided it didn't count. The whole point of this exercise is to have new experiences, to add excitement to my routines. I had time to kill afterward, so I went looking for something Entirely New.

I happened upon The Temporarily Permanent Antic Store Gallery, which I resisted because of the scary paintings of hooded figures and the punk music blaring from inside, then told myself this is exactly the kind of thing I should do--to expose myself to the things I resist. Isaac, the owner, paints on clothes because it's hard to make a living painting on canvases. I bought a hand-painted hoodie. New enough? Close.

I continued my search by joining my friend, artist Brittany Powell, on the final day of her installation, "Gone Sweatin'." Brittany does life-size room installations of, well, rooms, made entirely of contact paper. This installation was inspired by one of Brittany's many obsessions, vintage Sweatin' the Oldies tapes with Richard Simmons. Turns out Floyd and I didn't do Broadway Sweat with Richard but to a videotape of Brittany doing Broadway Sweat with Richard. Very meta. Never having sweated with Richard or Brittany, particularly in an art gallery, I'd have to say it counts as New Thing #3.

New Day #1

I woke up yesterday without any idea what I was going to do on the first day of my Do Something New Every Day project. But I figured that'd be part of the fun--to look for an opportunity during the day.

So I'm at the doctor getting my annual physical. (Sidebar: I'm a big fan of the annual physical. It makes me feel grown-up and responsible, even while wearing a paper robe, which I tried to dress up by writing the words Dolce and Gabbana on it.) I needed some routine blood tests, so I decided I would do Something New #1 by watching the needle go in.

Having had three years of shots because I'm allergic to Oregon, I'm not needle phobic, but, still, I normally look away. Instead, what I discovered was that watching actually made it hurt less. I didn't wince the moment the needle went in, even when it took awhile because my vein kept rolling away. (Who knew veins rolled?)

I actually ended up with Something New #2 that night when none other than rock diva Storm Large and her boyfriend Davey Nipples accepted an invitation to dinner at my house. Not only did Storm invent a new word for "fag hag" -- fagnet -- she also let us see her boobs. (I'm sorry I didn't take that picture.)

What's New?

The thought occurred to me as I looked over this year's holiday newsletter: I'm in a rut. Don't get me wrong, I lead a blessed life for which I'm grateful. But I have a restless mind that craves constant stimulation, while my job and my finances keep me housebound. And I'm a big believer in Having Adventures, in learning What's New.

Welcome to my mid-life crisis.

I don't want to trade in my spouse or my job, and I can't afford to trade in my house or my car, nor can I fly someplace exotic. So I've decided to do something new every day. It need not be dramatic or life-changing. It can be as simple as finding a new way home. But I have to do at least one new thing a day. And write about it.

I'd love it if I had some company, so please let me know what's new with you.

And happy new year.

Holiday Newsletter

Here's this year's holiday newsletter:

December 2007

Maybe it’s because we’ve lived in the People’s Republic of Portland for so long. This year we accomplished the ultimate in sustainable living—we recycled an entire year.

Truly, there’s nothing new to report. Which isn’t to say we haven’t been busy. As usual, Floyd flew about town as a culture vulture, giving over fifty tours at the Portland Art Museum, serving on the board of Live Wire! Radio, treading the boards at Portland Opera (who can forget his artful interpretations of a near-naked soldier in Norma, the dying dragon in The Magic Flute, and a dead sailor in The Flying Dutchman?) and continuing to write his column in Just Out, which included interviews where he got a kiss from author Michael Cunningham and had a good cry with composer Jerry Herman.

Perhaps the reason he could do so much was that he slept so little worrying over the rapid downturn in the real estate market. Suffice it to say it’s not the kind of news someone with a fifty-eight unit building on the market wants to hear about.

Meanwhile, I returned to familiar territory by completing the sequel to How I Paid for College, which is called Attack of the Theater People. (Due out April 15th; see the newly redesigned website MarcAcito.com for details.) I occasionally emerged from hibernation to teach writing workshops, record commentaries for NPR’s All Things Considered, and continue my life-long trend of yo-yo dieting. This year I'm feeling up because I'm down thirty pounds, making me one hundred and fifty one pounds of fun. For those of you keeping track over the last twenty-five years, I have now gained and lost my entire body weight twice.

The only new news for me was the arrival in Portland of my mom, who now lives close enough for us to hang out and do numerology together.

We may be winning the battle over middle age spread, but the march of time still shows. (You know you’re getting older when your dog develops a heart murmur.) At a recent holiday party, Floyd pointed me out to another guest and the guy responded, “You mean the gray-haired guy?” At this point, I'm just grateful to have any hair, which is why our motto for next year is:

APPRECIATE IN 2008