First I have to comment about all the hullabaloo about Justin Timberlake ripping open Janet Jackson's costume and revealing her bare breast (in the half-time show of the Super Bowl last Sunday). Of course, I don't watch football... I'm more of a SEX AND THE CITY type... but I heard about it Monday when I was running on the treadmill at the gym, watching CNN. Here is my comment on it... I doesn't fuckin' matter. If it was an accident or a publicity stunt, it doesn't matter. The human body is not profane nor disgusting... kids aren't harmed by seeing nipples (hell, most of us have suckled them for nourishment as infants... and those of us who didn't probably should have). It just does NOT matter. If a big deal hadn't been made about it, it would've been over. Instead, the media (and I guess me, too, now) keep harping on it and making it into something to be outraged about. Well, I'm not outraged about her nipple... I'm outraged about the outrage. Grow the fuck up, America. A war is going on. Murders, rape, human rights violations, animal cruely, taxes... there are a zillion better things to get outraged about. A boob is just a body part. Wake up!

It was cold today. I'm so glad Philip came home to grab his lap-top computer, because he gave me a ride to the post office and gym, which saved me a chilly promenade. I had to walk home in it, but by that point I was hot from working out.

I got an email from Frank Taylor. He's spending the night with us on Friday because he has rehearsals that night and Saturday morning and he needs a place in New Orleans to crash. It will be nice to see him.

I made salads and veggie patties and cucumber yogurt sauce and hummus and fat-free low carb chocolate ice cream parfaits for dinner. Philip and I ate while watching STAR TREK: ENTERPRISE. We then watched THE BLACKWATER LIGHTSHIP, which I knew I'd want to see when I saw Angela Lansbury talking about it on LARRY KING LIVE last night or the night before.

THE BLACKWATER LIGHTSHIP is a story of three generations of women (granny, mom and daughter) trying to work through years of miscommunication that has made their family dysfunctional. The grandson (who is sick with A.I.D.S. and wants to spend his last days at granny's house), his gay friends and talking despite tragic reality are the catalysts that start the healing process. It was pretty good for a disease-of-the-week movie.

The movie made me think about how much of my life I keep from my family... unpleasant details and such. Am I saving them from needless worry? Am I excluding them from something they should be part of simply because they are my family and WANT to be involved with my life? I've always tended to back away in times of pain. It is how I prefer to deal with stuff. I don't get the feeling that it alienates my kin, unlike the family in the movie. Our family still communicates and there is a general feeling of comfort associated with dealing with them (at least the immediate family). But I am shutting them out to a degree. I know they don't care I do porn... they don't care that I'm gay... they love Philip... but they only know part of me. I guess everyone only knows part of me.

Maybe it's all the salads I've been makin' lately, but I'm farting up a storm. Stinky ones. Philip says he doesn't mind... and I sure don't mind his... but jeez, I hate polluting the atmosphere.