Living in Palm Springs has been wonderful, but for some time now I have felt that my time here is done. The courses have been dropped and all the flatware has been cleared; your time here is done, goodbye and come again. I need to be somewhere alive and stimulating; Palm Springs is where people go to get away from all of that.

So in comes the blog worthy news bite. I have been cast to play a role in the HereTV! original series “The Lair” and this is really about my first day of work.

They asked to do this over a year ago, after my win for “Best Actor” in the 2006 GAYVNS, but I had to turn it down because I was in Ohio for a month long Christmas visit followed by my fourth cross-country trip. This time I was available and more than willing to try something completely new.

Originally I was cast to play the role of Ian, a new character in name and in form, more specifically, a werewolf. I was thrilled at the opportunity and even more jazzed at the idea of getting all made up in hair and teeth.

My final audition before the CEO was on a windy, wet Thursday afternoon on Wilshire near UCLA. I had already been approved by the majority of the powers that be and this was one final “OK” needed before I could try on the fangs. I thought I did really well and they seemed to agree. I left feeling quite confident.

A little later I was sitting at the Abbey when my phone indicated a voicemail. I listened to the message and from the tone of his voice I could tell that I lost the part.

It was a sinking feeling, but fleeting because in the same breath I was told that I had been given another “more dramatic” role. Even though I was relieved I was already missing the wardrobe aspect. I wanted to be the werewolf. There were a few awkward moments seasoned with a light flavor of failure until I remembered what I learned from watching “America’s Next Top Model”: Sometimes you don’t have the look that they want. It is as simple as that and has nothing to do with ability (at least that’s what they tell you, which is nearly as good).

So now I am Tim, an assistant to the botanist, Jake Waldman with no make up, no fangs and no X-Men-esque wig.

To be honest I was a little over confident on my first day. It wasn’t the first time. Just because I have sex with strangers in front of even more strangers, contorting myself into Twister like positions all the while sharing a recipe with the make-up guy I sometimes feel like I can handle anything. I was quickly humbled to say the least. I had practiced my lines and was very good at recalling them at any time, in the truck, on the plane and even in the bathroom. I even had a couple of practice sessions with my scene partner, but when I got on set in front of those people I encountered a new kind of pressure and it landed me on my ass. I forgot a line and then everything just seemed to snowball until it got so bad that a guy from the crew had to recite my lines for me just so we could get through the scene. It was a fucking nightmare for everyone involved. Thankfully Eve Harrington was nowhere to be found.

I had a break between scenes so I reflected heavily on what I thought my problem could have been. I am pretty sure it was just because this was a new situation, one that I had never been in before and it was scary. I had not slept the night before waking up each hour with a dull nervousness that sat at the tip of my toes. It was the same brand of sleep I’d experienced before my first sex scene, my first dance gig in Philadelphia and my first runway show. I was just plain scared and all I needed to do was breathe, relax and make sure they didn’t try and find Eve Harrington after my next scene.

On my second scene of the day I nailed it and was 1000 times better. The breathing and letting myself relax into the moment was the key to my success. I am not a trained actor and I am going to make mistakes; the directors and producers knew who they hired so the mistakes on my first day were probably expected.

Here is the first photo of me on set:

Soon after San Diego it was time to board a plane to Boston on a 6am flight out of Palm Springs (PS). My dear friend Saya’s sister was turning 40 and her family decided to throw a surprise party for her. I love her family and was touched that they invited me to come out and share the occasion with them.

The party was orchestrated wonderfully. To set the stage her mother mentioned to Saya’s sister that on Saturday they would have a small get together with friends and family at the nearby home of a family friend. This annoyed her as she was expecting a bit more for her 40th. It was a great way to set her up for what would turn out to be a great surprise.

We arrived at the house in New Hampshire after a morning of constructing about 120 spring rolls in Saya’s kitchen in Boston. Saya left me there to fetch Seana, her sister, and was going to text me when they were near so we would know when to hide. We all crammed ourselves in the bedroom and bathroom and waited for the signal from Saya’s mom. As soon as we got the OK we marched out in a single file line to greet the flabber-gasted guest of honor. At the sight of every new person emerging from the back room her “Oh my God’s” grew louder and her level of surprise intensified to the point where I thought she might pass out. There were friends dating back from kindergarten all the way up through her college years. Some of her newest friends were also asked to join the surprise group and share the evening. The food was great, the wine was great and her family was amazing. Thank god they ate those blasted spring rolls; there were so many of them!

I had the best time hanging back and watching the dynamics of somebody else’s family unfold and play out in front of me; it was a front row seat to a family movie with no obligation for interaction required.

Her family unit is certainly one to behold, they are kind, funny and intellectual without being stuffy and they love each other very much. They all live or have lived in this small town of Peterborough and hearing them talk about their family and the locals is so warm and sweet.

The next morning they had a brunch for the birthday girl. This was a great idea since there were so many people at the event the night before it was nearly impossible for Seana to really interact with everybody. That aside, there were many people from out of state so having a second, more intimate, get-together was ideal.

I arrived in Boston on Friday evening and by Sunday morning I was shot from jet lag, a drastic temperature change (can you say three inches of snow?) and an evening of indulgence (mostly cake) I could barely keep my eyes open as she opened her gifts Sunday morning. It wasn’t long before Saya shared in my exhaustion and became time to wrap it up and return to the mad city.

Being here in Boston has been very bitter sweet. This is the first time I have come as a visitor in many years. Walking around the South End made me just a little sad. There was a time not long ago when I lived a quiet life with no responsibility to a mortgage or a car payment and was never required to think about anything further from the day at hand. I woke up, walked two blocks to the gym, came home and walked across the street to work at Aquitaine. Life was simpler then and I that is something I miss.

I also miss the interaction and social buzz that living in a city brings. Nobody walks in PS, and there is certainly no sort of social interaction brought on by trips on the subway and walks around the block to the coffee shop or nearest cafe in a pedestrian city. I am a people person and even though I enjoy solitude very much, having the option of being involved with masses if I so choose is very important to me. That is something I completely miss out on by living in PS.

Having had the opportunity to be around a family tied strongly together with strings of love and bonds so deep that their adoration echoed made me miss mine, very much.

I suppose that is good. I have a family much like Saya’s and I am fortunate to have my dearest friends share with me the blessing of family. While I am actively involved with my family from a distance, I am beginning to think something must be done about my day-to-day life. For some things there are no substitutions.

Saya, Sarah and Seana

A while back I was asked to do an event at the Hybrid Café in West Hollywood funded by the Gay and Lesbian Center. The purpose of the event was to promote their new chat room for safe sex. Having somebody of my background was supposed to be the draw and also serve to facilitate the conversation and answer questions involving safe sex and my line of work.

The theme was “Johnny at Home” as they decked the place out in pillows and candles to simulate a comfortable, relaxed sexy feel. Honestly, they did a great job giving this open industrial space a cozy ambiance.

People had the option to drop into the café and chat with me there or sit at home in the comfort of their PJ’s or out of them and chat there. To help increase the foot traffic we had it on Friday at 8. This is prime time for people wandering about sniffing out the buzz. As people go they were a bit hesitant at the idea of coming inside and felt much more at ease gazing through the wall of glass that separated me from the increasing number of party goers outside. Did I mention that I was smack in the middle of the store, on the couch barefoot in a bathrobe? If that wasn’t drawing attention the only thing left would go against certain laws of public exposure for sure.

My generation has it pretty easy. We had no Stonewall Riot, no march on Washington or “gay plague”. What we do have is the power to prevent and treat HIV, more resources and safe havens across the country than ever before, we have a voice in Washington and the Madison Avenue ad machine is hungry for our dollars. Most of all, we are visible and I say this because we need to remember what so many people did for us. We can walk down Santa Monica Blvd and kiss our male friend on the lips without fear of verbal or physical assault. We must not forget the efforts of our brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers that made it possible for the likes of Will and Grace, Ellen and even Rosie O’Donnell to be part of mainstream culture.

There is still much work to be done, but I really think the hardest parts are behind us. Still, it’s important that we all try to help in any way we can. If you’re a big name porn star you can donate an expensive public appearance to help spread the word about HIV prevention. If not, you can volunteer or contribute to causes that help the community. Whatever you do, do it for those that accomplished so much at such a high price to make our little gay world a better place.

We all have growth meters that go way beyond notches in a cabinet door. When something happens in my life that makes another notch in that virtual meter, I like to take stock for a moment on past turning points and growth spurts to make sure I’m happy with the direction of my progress. I usually am.

Somewhere on I-5, about 40 minutes from LA, I started to feel at home. The sun was that lively golden color and it basked the hills in light making them look like blankets of velvet over throw pillows. The number of lanes on the interstate changed from 2 to 6 and every lane was full of cars and trucks. It was good to be home in So Cal. I was calm and happy in the face of the impending gridlock I was about to encounter.

I began to think about the week ahead and my heavy schedule of relaxation. I thought about watching the BBC version of “The Office” at my friend George’s house in what could only be described as a virtual trip to Tuscany. He has a built in pool in the back yard that is topped by a 3 tier garden on the north side complete with vegetables and fruit trees one would find in Italy; it was going to be great week.

Just as I completed the thought and began to muster a sigh of contentment I felt the contentment being replaced by a gut wrenching pain that I had only felt twice before; most recently, last Friday morning.

The DVD series “The Office” along with every other series I own, yes even Ab Fab, and every single CD was gone. They were stolen the day Milo was harvested. I didn’t notice at the time because I was so happy about some of the things that weren’t stolen. It’s probably for the best that this realization occurred after my time in SF. Earlier that day, just as we were packing up for the drive to LA, Scott and I both mentioned that the cab looked somewhat less cramped and we attributed it to the food being gone and the absence of the other backpack. Not so much.

So back to my growth meter, I had to contain my rage and upset because I was now on a 6 lane highway with some of the most oblivious drivers on the planet. There was nothing to throw against the wall; in fact, there was no wall. This was not so much an illustration of growth as it was just a holding pen for anger and rage. The growth happened about an hour later when I took a deep breath and visualized the entire experience and the feelings I had about it fade away as the can of Flat Tire approached my lips. Just kidding. I do not mean to insinuate that the method of acceptance I was practicing is more of a method of escape and substance abuse.

I had a choice: To either let these feelings of violation and anger fester inside me and ruin my week, or to release them and get on with my homecoming. It amazes me when people make a conscience effort to remain pissed. It takes far more energy to remain angry than it does to accept and move on. I decided to not be upset although I cannot argue that as the evening continued I thought about all those old CDs that I had and how some of that stuff really meant a lot to me. I began that collection over 8 years ago when my last stash of CDs was ripped off at a the gym. That I did not mind so much because it was the lesson in karma that I needed to form the moral fiber I have today; I had stolen a pair of earrings the day before.

I was really proud of myself. I remember a time not too long ago when this sort of thing warranted not only a 5 day angry period, but also open hostility to whoever I came into contact with; misery truly loves company. So I’m out some memories and some good tunes (But I mean some really good shit!). Now I have the chance to make new ones – better ones, dammit! Yeah, that’s it! Growth, baby!