Blow Hole Patrol

On Saturday, we went out on the boat again with Jess' parents. We had every intention of fishing for tuna, but never got around to it. We stopped to watch some whales along the way, and the whales just never went away or stopped surfacing. The sea was literally teeming with humpback, fin and minke whales. At any given moment, you could turn around and see at least one whale, usually three or more. There were spouts coming up from their blow holes in every direction. It was crazy, and it was like this for well over an hour, probably two.

Another weird thing, the whales were incredibly close to the shore--less than half a mile from the beach at times. Usually when we see whales, there's no land in sight. I've been fortunate to see lots of whales on lots of occasions. I've definitely been closer and I've definitely seen more spectacular displays (breaching and so forth.) But no one on the boat has ever seen this many whales at once.

The video doesn't begin to capture what it was like. For one thing, there are only three there. (Actually there were more to my right, but the whale flapping the surface of the water was the one putting on the best show.) Be warned, the footage is wicked shaky. You may need a dramamine.

International Glamor Puss

My partner/boyfriend Jess is infatuated with a drag queen named Hedda Lettuce. She bills herself as a "Drag Comedienne and International Glamor Puss." Jess became acquainted with her last year. Most evenings, she could be found in front of the Provincetown Art House Theater, plugging her show. Fridays when I was taking the fast ferry from Boston to Provincetown, Jess would always walk down to the pier to greet me, as if I were coming home from a tour in Iraq or something. This Art House, and I use the term very loosely, is halfway between our place and the pier. So, Jess had occasion to walk past Miss Lettuce, sans boyfriend, on a regular basis.

I'm not exactly sure what transpired between the two of them every Friday night before my arrival. But on the return trip from the pier to the apartment, Ms. Lettuce would definitely pay Jess special attention as we walked by. Batting her eyelashes, she would call out, "Hey big boy," or "How's it hangin', stud?" Having your partner/boyfriend pursued by a drag queen is the definition of not feeling threatened. I found their flirtation amusing and sweet, so I didn't mind that Jess always made us walk by on Hedda's side of the street.

As the season drew to a close, so did Hedda's run at the Art House. Walking by, on the last weekend of her show, Hedda dropped out of character and seemed legitimately concerned, "Are you ever coming to see me?!" Jess promised that we would be in the audience on Sunday night, her very last show.

But alas, on Sunday night our bloodstream was full of alcohol and our bellies full of food. We fell asleep on the couch. Actually, I fell asleep on the couch. Try as he might, Jess couldn't rouse me from my drunken slumber. As a testimate to his undying love for me, Jess remained by my side. He never made it to Hedda's show.

Jess was very much looking forward to seeing Ms. Lettuce this season. She wasn't scheduled to appear in P-town until the week of the 4th of July. That week rolled around, and her shows were mysteriously missing from the theater's schedule. Jess was gravely concerned, convinced that Hedda had fallen into a deep depression after he betrayed her. Hedda has since been re-booked, with a very limited number of performances. This was supposed to be her opening weekend, but we did not see Ms. Lettuce on our walk from the pier.

Maybe Jess was right. Maybe she is broken-hearted.

Damn I'm Sexy!

Here is a great picture of Jess and me with our dear friends, Danny and David. They were visiting Provincetown the week of July 4th. July 5th is Danny's birthday. This picture was taken on the porch of The Red Inn. We are waiting to be seated for dinner.

18 Inches Made Me Scream Like a School Girl!

I'm so mad at myself. I forgot to take my camera yesterday when Jess' parents took us out on their boat. As always, we had a great time. For someone who is terrified of natural bodies of water (i.e., any water that can sustain a life form) I LOVE being out in the middle of Cape Cod Bay.

Chuck and Jeanne called around 9AM to let us know they'd be at the pier around 11AM. Jess and I grabbed lunch for the four of us--yummy sandwiches, chips and cookies from the nearby General Store. Chuck and Jeanne already had plenty of wine and beer chilling on ice. We put on our swim trunks, grabbed sweatshirts, and headed to the pier (a five-minute walk from our place.) The boat was sitting idle in the harbor waiting for us. When we arrive Chuck pulls up to the "Courtesy Landing," a small, public dock where boats can tie-up briefly to load and unload passengers. We climb aboard and are greeted by Oliver, their 10 month old French Bulldog, clad in an orange doggie life vest. (Very cute!) We decide to eat lunch right away, even though it is early. We're going to fish and want to eat before handling the bait. Chuck takes the boat out to Long Point, drops anchor, and we have our sandwiches with a nice Sauvignon Blanc. When we're done eating, Chuck points the boat toward the open sea and heads for a certain spot that is known for excellent cod fishing. The spot is the sight of an old shipwreck, which you can see on the sonar. (Pretty cool!) When you find the ship's wreckage, you cut the engines and cast your lines.

I've gone fishing for tuna and bluefish with Jess' folks, but never for cod. Tuna and bluefish are big and powerful and put up a good fight. You cast and start reeling almost immediately since these fish chase their prey toward the surface. With cod, you let your bait sink to the bottom (100 feet below, where we were) then slowly pull-then-reel, pull-then-reel until you either catch something or your bait is back on the surface. Chuck graciously put bait on my line. Wimpy, I know. But in my defense,this is not like putting a worm on a hook. The thing we were using looked like a mobile you would hang over a baby's crib, except this mobile had numerous three-pronged hooks festooned with oysters. I lowered this contraption into the water, waited for it to hit bottom, locked the line and started the pull-reel cycle.

I had only done the pull-reel thing three times when I felt a heaviness on the line. I wasn't sure if I had anything, so I kept quiet for bit. Pull-then-reel. Pull-then-reel. Finally I'm convinced that there's a fish at the end of my line, so I ask for a second opinion. "Oh yeah, you've got something!" Pull-then-reel. Pull-then-reel. Whatever this is, it isn't putting up a fight. I'm doubtful I have anything more than seaweed. Pull-then-reel. Pull-then-reel. I stop looking at the water and focus on the end of my pole (huh huh.) It's not bent toward the water very much. Could I possibly have anything?

I'm still looking at the end of the pole when Chuck says, "You've got it!" I look down toward the water just as I yank the fish up and out. The first thing I notice are teeth. Lots of them. I didn't know cod looked like this. I takes me about a second to identify the thing I am eagerly pulling toward myself as a shark. "FUCK!" I shrieked. I lower the end of the pole back toward the water, barely resisting the urge to simply drop the whole rod and reel into 100-feet of saltwater. The whole boat erupts into laughter. It was a shark alright--about a foot and a half long. Not exactly a man-eater. Chuck once again comes to my aid and cuts the thing off the line and releases it. Time for another beer!

We saw lots of other marine life during our six hours on the water. There were several Humpback Whales that were ENORMOUS. There was a rather large seal. And I saw a huge but harmless Nurse Shark gliding along the top of the water. But it was an 18-inch shark that nearly made me shit my pants.

Thanks to blogging, I can annoy you even while I'm away on vacation.

My first day of vacation started gray and cool. Still, Provincetown is a beautiful place. I got up insanely early, drank some coffee, hopped on my bike, grabbed a muffin and rode out to the end of MacMillan Wharf. I enjoyed my muffin, and then took some photos. I was feeling artsy...

See what I mean? Gray.

I dont know the history behind these portraits, but I have always loved them. The women are old and weathered, yet beautiful.

COCK!
These are painted on the concrete surface of the pier. I've never noticed them before, and I don't know what they are all about.

The Pilgrim Monument, as seen from MacMillan Wharf. I guess the pilgrims landed in Provincetown before making it to Plymouth Rock. This is supposed to be a monument to them. But insiders know this story was concocted by the Gay Mafia to conceal the fact that they had built an enormous phallus with taxpayer dollars.

As Promised Threatened...

Here's video of our place in P-town.



ps: My videos look great as the mpeg's that download from my camera, but when I convert them to divx/avi for YouTube, they turn into crap. Any suggestions?

God Loves Me. Either That, or I’m Just a Complete F#cking Idiot.

So I found my camera. I’m embarrassed to say that it was in my backpack that I carry with me everywhere I go. Of course, I thought I had searched it thoroughly. But there is a padded, hidden compartment meant for laptops that I had completely forgotten about. I had even “frisked” the bag, in case I just wasn’t seeing it. I didn’t feel it in there. {insert gay ass-sex joke here}

If you are foolish enough to return to this blog, you will be subjected to videos and pictures. It may not be pretty. I just hope it’s not boring…