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:

It was my tenth birthday, my first double digit celebration at our summer weekend destination on Catawba Island on Lake Erie. We spent every weekend there and most of our vacations and I hated it. I hated having to pack and then drive two hours, on a good day, to the island. My father had a boat and being the avid fisher family, we spent a lot of time on the water fishing, swimming and just hanging out.

A typical weekend started Friday night arriving pretty tired from the drive and going to bed early. We were awakened really early much to our discomfort and dragged to breakfast. I usually had two eggs sunny side up and two pieces of whole wheat toast with no butter. Then came the hard part, we would drive to the boat and then ma would get the dope ready, Dramamine. She would crush up the bitter white pill in a spoon with “Slice”, a citrus 7-Up concoction that my brother and I grew to despise forever with or without the pill. We were pretty good at being on the water after being drugged and either slept or played games. As we got older we took the rods and began to fish.

There aren’t many fish tales in my background, but I remember winning a Fish Ohio award for a White Bass that I caught with my dad and Uncle Kenny. The fish was 15.5 inches long from tip to tail and the award was for any fish longer than 15”. That fish stayed in our freezer for years to come uneaten and completely whole tucked beneath countless Ziplock baggies of sauce and meatballs.

When it was time to reel ‘em in and head home my brother and I would tear up the remaining sandwiches into small pieces and feed the seagulls that followed us all the way in to the dock. It was there that the carnage began. My father and whoever accompanied us, my Uncle Kenny or Randy, would begin to clean the fish in a precise, professional and bloody way. Meanwhile, ma and usually us kids would go down the street to the local farmers’ stand and get sweet corn on the cob, peaches and tomatoes for the upcoming dinner. Dad would bread the filets and deep fry them to a perfect golden brown. The corn was shucked by me and the sibling. I remember I always took great pride in husking the corn and making sure that every single thread of silk was taken off and the corn’s speckled kernel skin was left shiny and smooth.

We all gathered around the wooden picnic table waiting for the day’s catch to be presented. Soon there was plates of fresh fish fillets with corn on the cob that hours before was still on the stalk. Ma would prepare a salad of fresh tomato wedges, red onion and fresh basil all dressed with extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper. I remember this meal so well I can almost taste it and chances are before I blew out the candles on that zucchini cake, that’s what we had for dinner. My Uncles had places on either side of us and became quite close to us and our parents. We spent a great deal of time with them on and off the island. Their wives and kids soon became our “adopted” cousins and Aunts. On that particular dinner, for my 10th birthday, they were there to help cut, bread, serve and celebrate.

I would give anything to have that back. All that bitching and moaning I did when I was a kid was all because I did not want to go to my family’s weekend getaway on the lake. You really have no idea of what you have until you grow up and find that you dearly miss what is long gone.

My last meal of 2007 was shrimp tempura and it was amazing, but it was my second to last meal of 2007 that deserves mention.

Having missed every blessed holiday of the season due to a job that ended up in the crapper I thought it only fair to surprise Ma Hazzard on her birthday. This meant an ungodly early flight out of LAX on January 1. Thankfully, my webmaster lives in close proximity to the airport and had no conflicting plans to prevent me from crashing at his place and begging a lift.

Boy Wonder suggested we visit a spot he found called “Raw” in Santa Monica. It’s not sushi, but raw cuisine, living foods that are not cooked above a certain temperature and are considered “alive”. I was torn. I had “living food” once before in San Francisco and it did not agree with me or anybody in my party. I suspect it was the coconut soup. I did enjoy the rest of the lunch though and figured what the hell, I will try it again this time avoiding coconut milk or anything that billed itself as a living soup.

The menu was sent to me via e-mail by Boy Wonder due to the extensive list of items. It was a thoughtful and efficient idea, but I wish he had not because we waited for ages to be noticed at our table and I would have liked to have spent that time looking at the menu instead of wondering where the hell our server was. I had to get up twice before we got our first course. This food had better sing and dance because I was hungry and getting annoyed. In my opinion, being a high standing member of the service industry, the first couple of minutes before you approach a table are very important. Chances are the guests are hungry and a minute or 30 seconds to you can and does usually seem like an eternity.

Eventually she came around and we began our experience of the living dinner.

The menu is set up in a suggested order of courses; one of the ideas behind this sort of thing is to eat things in an order that maximizes efficient digestion. This meant dessert first!

First course, THE ORGAZMATRON, a rustic parfait of sorts with a buckwheat crust and creamy avocado finished with nuts, ginger and mint. We were in heaven. Amidst the exhaust fumes of passing vehicles and a seemingly endless onslaught of construction noise there was a party going on in our mouths - and everybody was invited. The Orgazmatron truly lived up to its name!

I had THE SEA WITCH for my mid course and Boy Wonder had the MAKI S&M SPECIAL. I said I was going to avoid living soups, but I love seaweed soup and I saw no mention of coconut milk or anything else ominous. The MAKI S&M SPECIAL was an interesting take on sushi with a Pumpkin Seaweed Walnut Pâté rolled with Avocado, Cucumber, Purple Cabbage & Tomatoes served with a spicy mustard & Nama Shoyu.

My soup was perfect, warm and loaded with ten varieties of seaweed. Meanwhile the “sushi” was really something; the thought and energy that goes into a production like that is worthy of high praise and hard not to enjoy.

We finished with what we thought to be the most intriguing items, the PESTO PIZZA, a deep dish warm “pizza” and a BACON WESTERN DOUBLE “cheeseburger”. The pizza was made with a buckwheat crust topped with a walnut pesto, tomato, Italian herbs, olives, marinated onions & mushrooms. That was mine and let me tell you it was amazing.

Boy Wonder’s “burger”, a Mushroom Nut Burger with Macadamia “Chez”, heirloom ketchup, Fig Mustard and Zucchini fries was arranged open faced and we ate it in pieces with this on that and that on this. So good, the “cheese” was nothing short of a culinary masterpiece.

Dinner was the perfect amount of food, any more would have been gluttonous and uncomfortable. Not a bad price point for what was a creative and difficult dinner to prepare. In my opinion, not cuisine for the every day, but perfect for those special occasions when Pumpkin Ravioli, Cornish Hens and Flourless Chocolate Torte don’t float your boat.

I can’t say that I remember too much from my 5th birthday, but I can recall that cake and the basement of the house that sheltered me for my first 12 years.

Note the shag carpet. I remember that carpet like it was yesterday. I adore shag, I have a large shag area rug in my own house and if I had the room I would have more of them. I also remember the smell of the carpet. We had a poodle named Charlie for a very long time that preferred the texture of the carpet to the elements of the outdoors. Perhaps it was his own spiteful behavior; I think he knew that my Dad didn’t care for him too much. There were always small dried turds embedded in the fibers that I guess ma missed when cleaning up the last delivery. Nobody ever seemed to mind or if they did they didn’t vocalize it to us. We always had birthdays, football parties, holidays and general get-togethers in that basement and we always sat there, on the floor among the soiled shag, beer, cake or present in hand unaware of the matter beneath our feet and knees.

Now the cake, my mother was famous for this cake as it became the bona fide birthday cake for both my brother and I for a very long time. It was a zucchini cake with chocolate Cool Whip as the frosting. We were definitely Midwest and boy did we love this cake. My father grew the squash in the garden as did my uncles so there was always plenty of it around. That was probably how the cake came to be, lots of squash and nowhere to put it. I remember the labor involved. The zukes had to be grated and the pulp pressed to release the water inside the stringy flesh. It was hard to imagine watching ma elbow deep in zucchini guts that it would be transformed into a delectable chocolate cake that would be chock full of Hershey’s chocolate chips and topped with that light, airy cocoa topping that complimented the richness of the cake better than anything I have yet to taste.

Later in life I realized that that zucchini did more than just free up fridge space it gave the cake lasting moisture that kept it perfect for days long after the party. I also came to find that it benefited from a couple days in the fridge after it had time to sit much like a stew would be.

I cannot remember the last time I had the cake. I should’ve asked for it to be FedExed to California for my 30th. Oh well, there is always next year.

What better way to bring in the next third of my life than with somebody who has been there since day 1, my Mom.

She came out to spend my 30th with me. Aside from giving her a much needed break, I also set out to really do some special things with her. First was sushi with our really great friends Mike and Mitch. It was her first time and she was a little hesitant, but she has come very far and willingly obliged. I eased her in with California rolls and miso soup; that was a must. We also had tempura something followed by some more adventurous nigiri sushi. She liked it, she really did and I was happy to bring something new to her that she enjoyed.

The Sunday after my birthday we headed west to Santa Monica to meet up with my friend, Scott. Ma had never seen Venice Beach and being a Sunday I thought it was a most perfect time. Boy Wonder met us at a Cuban café called Café Mercedes and we chatted laughed and drank on the patio.

The stroll along the boardwalk was nothing to us, but really something to dear mom; her eyes were wide open taking in the people and the sights. Scott, being the photographer and master documenter of events was in a most creative mood and put this slideshow together featuring my new dog, Petey. Thanks Scott. It was a most wonderful present for everybody!