Devon Hunter

OMG

I mean, really?

I feel like I need a personal assistant. It’s quickly gotten to where I can’t keep up with everything anymore, and I guess that’s a great problem to have; however, I can’t even find time to go to the mailbox and get the junk mail out of the way. I was called by my car insurance company who received their bill back. I’d forgotten about junk mail, and now I’m not getting my real mail!

Okay, that can be fixed.

Anyway, I finally settled into my apartment, and it looks FABULOUS. I love it! I picked what I thought was a burgundy swatch, but now that it’s on TWO FULL WALLS it’s actually stop-sign, cherry bomb RED. But it still works, since my bric-a-brac has enough muted colors to tone it down. I’ll have to take a picture and post it some time.

Oh, and if you’ve sent email and not heard back from me, please, please, please don’t take it personally. I’m evidently a superstar now (except if I were actually that important I wouldn’t know that my car insurance bill had been returned, because my personal assistant would have handled it for me). Sigh.

OH OH OH, before I forget: I still adore the sapphires I bought myself at Yule last year… and just to make sure they don’t get lonely, I’m going to adopt the diamonds that match them. HA! The red sapphires interspersed with black sapphires are also lovely… Hmmmm…

Anyway, this was alot of non sequiturs, because that’s the state of my mind lately… I know this entry probably comes across as rampant, frivolous, and in many ways out of character, but I just needed to blurt some stuff out and get anything new onto the blog. My apologies for not saying anything worth responding to. But I did want to just check in and let you all know that I’m still zipping around (bookings, performances for theatre arts and rehearsals for these performances, moving/settling, travelling for career, working out, and change, Change, CHANGE has made me neglect the blog and my memoires… gotta get back on track with all this).

Anybody wanna be my gopher??

ps

Remind me to tell you how bad the people at Cody Media pissed me off last week >:(

(fade up to Star Wars theme song by John Williams)

Okay, sorry for the overly dramatic beginning. Well, my roommate got my car started, and all the electrical bugs got fixed, but the Miata ended up costing me $500 more anyway: The rear brake calipers started leaking, and they sprayed brake fluid all over the brake pads… Long story short: Had to get new brake pads (which were more than 50% worn anyway, so no biggie - they would have needed replacing anyway soon), but I also had to get new brake calipers. But the car drives like a dream again. Just have to figure out where the water is coming from that is flooding the floor panel under the passenger seat… HMMMM! Anyway, there you have it.

BUT!!

There is something wonderful to share: While I was getting my brakes fixed I went to lunch. At the table next to me were two of the happiest women I’d seen in a long time. They were having such a good time together. OMG! Their energy was captivating. They were laughing deep in their bellies, and it was like listening to music. They had beautifully braided hair, and their dresses were covered in colorful African (or African inspired) designs. Their bangled jewelry clinked like little bells every time they’d throw their hands up in hysterics. They were so happy!

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.”

“Yes?” one said with a delightful glitter in her saucy eyes.

“I’ve been having a rough time lately, and, although I’m not listening to your conversation, I can’t help but overhear how happy you both are. I just wanted to tell you that I feel better for having heard real friendship next to me.”

“AWWW! That is so sweet! And you know what, baby? Whatever is getting you down… It’ll pass.”

“I think it just did.”

Now… time to go pack some boxes, so I can start moving into the new home I’ve found for me and Sméagol. He’s playing in the tape and cardboard: He’s always so happy to see all the new places to hide and ambush me from. His collar jingles as he’s playing, and it reminds me of the laughter of the two friends.

I feel good.

I am fucking fabulous!

People can say whatever else they want about me, but one trait should outshine all of them: I am resilient. I don’t understand how or why I attract the type of Mongolian cluster fucks that are magnetized to my presence, but I have been given the gift of survival. I find a way. Therein lies the balance, I suppose.

Because of complications with money that began when I went to Biltmore a few weeks ago for a vacation, rather than do the third Sean Cody movie when it was offered to me, I am under some extreme financial strain. In retrospect I should not have taken that particular weekend off with that particular person. The trip has definitely not proven to be worth the loss of thousands of dollars. The views of nature were pretty, and I had a good time, but now I find myself wishing I’d just gone to San Diego when they asked me to. The positive: I have remembered why it’s important to look out for practical needs before fantasies. I’m not bitter. Sour perhaps, but not bitter. I’ll be sweet again in time. (Please remember honesty and communication in your interactions with others.)

Also, this weekend we’d booked 14 models for a project to have only three show up. Some fast proactive thinking on my part saved the photoshoots, but the stress wasn’t needed. But this too ends happily: We got pictures of eight models, and the diversity is very nice.

Oh, I have made a decision: I will never dance at Secrets again. I will keep going to D.C., but not to be at that club. I have peeps in the capital city, but Secrets will never exploit me again. So, there’s another happy conclusion.

However, one issue that has come up in addition to the rest: My car won’t start. I got back from an intensely overwhelming trip to D.C. to find that the battery in my car had died completely while I was gone for four days. When we pulled it out it was obvious that it was the original manufacturer’s part: My battery was eleven year old! Impressive, but going dead when I needed to get to Atlanta was extremely unhelpful. It was 8:45 on a Sunday night. I was lucky to find an Adanced Auto that was open until 11:00 pm. Replacing the battery caused an arc of electricity, and the fuses blew. They couldn’t be taken out without special tools. It was 10 o’clock at night, a thunderstorm was blowing in, we’re replacing parts to my car in the dark, and I need to get to Atlanta by 1:00 in the morning. Not happening… At least not with my car…

But this is where the deal gets sealed: I know I am fucking fabulous, because of the people who surround me. I know some total angels. If I weren’t amazing I wouldn’t be loved by amazing people. “Show me a man’s friends, and I’ll tell you his character.” Mhm. I must be pretty fucking fabulous, since the people I know are absolutely incredible.

My family and friends encourage me and help me. My roommate, her boyfriend, and my nextdoor neighbor are going to get my car running while I’m gone (or at least try to). My roommate took me to Amtrak at 1:00 am, so I could take a train to Atlanta. I’m travelling in Florida with two guys who are wonderful people. My collaborators at home and in D.C. inspire me with their generosity and faith in me. What else is there to say? How could I ever doubt that I am loved? The proof is in the pudding:

I. Am. Fucking. Fabulous.

This week I’m in Washington, D.C. helping with various Pride activities to which I committed myself. Last night was an event I’d not originally planned on being part of, but I’m really excited I got to be here nonetheless. Last night Dr. Terry, the man behind the FUK!T campaign, hosted a fundraiser here at The Artists’ Inn Residence for an organization that is planning to open a permenant museum for LGBTQ history that will be opening in the capital soon. The guest of honor was Frank Kameny, one of the single most important figures in the Gay Rights movement of the United States.

Dr. Frank Kameny is one of those people about whom not enough is said, especially by younger LGBTQ people who (through little fault of their own) know almost nothing about their community’s history. Kameny is one of the first, if not THE first, full time Gay Liberation activists. He holds a doctorate in astronomy from Harvard, and was fired in the 1950’s from his federal job for being homosexual. Kameny immediately began writing letters and protested his dismissal to the Supreme Court. He began picketing and protesting in front of the White House and Pentagon years prior to the Stonewall Riots of 1969 in New York City. When you see 1960’s era black and white footage of people marching on the sidewalks in D.C. in support of LGBTQ rights, that is film of Kameny and his friends/allies.

And I got to meet him! IN PERSON! OMG! It’s the equivalent of meeting Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King, Jr. It’s like meeting Susan B. Anthony or César Chávez. This is a big deal! I can’t believe it… I was punch crazy all night - I’d not been drinking, but I was excited, giggly, energetic… And then I realized something: This is what Pride feels like. HAPPY PRIDE!

In the first “Food for thought” entry I discussed my supper at Taverna Plaka in Atlanta, Georgia. That was a wonderful experience, but not quite perfect (but through no fault of the restaurant itself). Something was missing for that dinner: Company. Meals are the very essence of quality time for friends and family, and I wasn’t able to share my pleasure at Taverna Plaka (but next time I will go with a friend).

Today I had lunch with my friend Joe. We went to Fogo de Chão in Washington, D.C… Ohmygosh!! It was one of the single most spectacular lunch experiences I have ever had. It was an event. The setting is immaculately clean and beautifully designed, the Brazilian/Portugese servers are prompt and courteous (almost to the point of embarrassing me), and the food is both visually and nom-nom-nomerifically stunning. It was almost overwhelming, it was that splendid.

We started with the “salad bar,” though I feel I do it a disservice to call something that looked more like landscape architecture a salad bar. I don’t know what else to call it though. It was perfect. I would almost venture to guess that each greenbean was placed strategically on the serving platter, and that each shaving of Parmesan was carved with care (so as to give the illusion of perfectly homey crumbles). I was nearly scared to touch anything. But I did. And it was yummy!

The meat portion is interesting. Each person at the table is given a round piece of paper that resembles a coaster. One side is red, the other is green. When the red side is up no one will come offer you his meat (if only it were that easy in the clubs, right?). But when you turn the green side up within moments a gentleman with a particular type of meat (sausage, chicken, lamb chops, leg of lamb, filet mignon, etc.) will come and offer you some of whatever is on his skewer. After I got a cut I left my green light on, and immeditely someone else came and offered me something else. I said, “No, thank you,” and he went away confused. Then immediately a third came… and then I was getting panicked… Finally Joe said, “You have to turn your coaster back to red.” Ohmygosh! Fabulous!

At any rate, Joe and I sat for what must have been nearly two hours talking. And you know what? The meal was superb, but it was made all the better for sharing it. With Taverna Plaka I was reminded that food is joy. But with Fogo de Chão I was reminded that people with food lifts that joy to inspiration.

I don’t socialize near enough in my personal life. I just don’t. I get tired of deflecting assumptions and defending my choice of career. I get tired of expectations, and I am generally worn out of people’s company after the weekend; however, this trip to Washington, D.C. has reminded me that I really do love people. Yes, I needed a reminder.

While I’m praising Joe’s company and Fogo de Chão I should also heap some praise on Dr. Terry Gerace. What a perfect host he is. He, as you may remember from my other postings about him, is a huge portion of the energy behind the FUK!TS I came here to help promote. He is also the owner and operator of what is probably one of the single most amazing Guest Houses/Bed and Breakfasts you’ll ever hear about: The Artists Inn Residence. It’s uncanny - he found a muralist who can do trompe-l’œil effects so well that I thought the wooden staircase was marble until I actually stepped on it. Amazing!

Dr. Terry spent three years on the house, and it features many reclaimed works of antique metal, stone, and wood. I’m staying in the Shakespeare Room (each room is themed to focus on a particular artist: William Shakespeare, Leonardo da Vinci, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Katherine Hepburn, Salvador Dalí, and Duke Ellington). It’s quite simply the most relaxing and intriguing sleep over I’ve ever had (which is almost as insulting as calling the vegetables today a salad bar). The format is adjusting from nightly/weekly rates to monthly rates, so if you are planning an extended stay, you should definitely consider contacting the Artists Inn Residence, which is right in the middle of DuPont Circle.

Joe and Terry (as well as many other recently discovered precious friends) remind me to invest in people more deeply than I have in years. They are fantastic people. Between food, conversation, and hospitality they have made my visit here both constructive and very happy. As I venture more and more outside of the clubs in pursuit of my adult entertainment career, I am finding that this is a journey I should have started sooner. I am excited again about the possibilities that wait ahead.