Xmas Cheer 09 #1

May your stocking be stuffed with something extra specially nice this year!

Lego Factory Series #13

I haven't posted anything from my lego creations in a while. This is a 4 story walk-up apartment with an adjoining diner. The challange was to create a structure to fit onto a narrow corner, and the choice of the diner was a natural.
Yet, a diner wouldn't work over a two deep lot and so I attached it to the larger building. Orgininally only 3 floors tall, I also decided to replicate the top floor twice and give it the additional floor, which I think gives it a much more solid appearance in contrast to the diner's simplier more streamlined profile.
Seen here without the palm trees, you can see how I incorporated elements from the rail cars to enhance it's vintage sensibilities.

Halleluia Chorus

Winter Wallop of Ought Nine: The Morning After

A different view of the back deck, a bird's eye view from the second floor of my home.

A front view with the beautiful blue sky.

What I'm Listening To #71

With the snow for inspira- tion, I'm listening to a compila- tion CD that I made as a gift for friends back in 2006. The idea was to select two versions of the same song by different artists. It was a juxtaposition of musical ideas.

It was heavy on country singers and then jazz with instrumentalists tossed in here and there.
There were also a fair share of repeat players like Rhonda Vincent, Chris Isaak, Michael Bublé, and Sarah MacLachlin. These are among the essential holiday songs. Not complete, I failed to include Nat King Cole or Bing Crosby.... When is anything perfect? But it is a pretty darn good play list.

Winter Wallop of Ought Nine #5

This is what it looked like at about 8:00 PM and it's still snowing steadily. My stick measured just shy of 19 inches!

Winter Wallop of Ought Nine #4

@ 4:00 PM I yardsticked 16 inches, and yet the changes on my deck seem almost subtle between 4:00 and 1:30, the 16 inches and 13.5. The Weather Channel claims that this is the greatest one day snow total since 1926 in December. That I can believe, but it still hasn't quite risen to the depths of the February 1996 storm. Although it's still coming down with gusto!

The second view of the front of my home gives a better sense of the snow in scale to the house.


And the day was spent on the inside making a pot of beef vegetable soup. The aroma fills the house! I begin by cutting the stew-sized cubes of lean beef into bite-sized morsels that I flour, brown using olive oil, and simmer for about 30 minutes on medium low . In a soup pot I bring 3 quarts of water to boil with two beef boullion cubes and 6 scallions chopped into quarter inch sections. When the beef is done it goes into the water with a little salt and freshly ground pepper, I dissolve the skillet browns with some water and add that, as well. Next I chop and add in this order, 3 carrots, 2 yukon gold potatoes, a bag of fresh green beans, a bag of frozen white corn, a bag of frozen petit peas, and two cans of diced fire roasted tomatoes. Everything is organic. Set to simmer and let gently cook for a couple of hours to infuse the flavors. More salt and pepper to taste or not as is your taste.

Winter Wallop of Ought Nine #3

Reporting in at 1:30 PM with 13 inches. Again, the view from my kitchen door.

And I'm glad I shoveled the front walk. The mailman came!

Winter Wallop of Ought Nine #2

10:00 AM and we're at 9.5/10 inches. To recap:

2:30 AM ~ 3.5 inches
5:00 AM ~ 5.5 inches
10:00 AM ~ 9.5/10 inches

The local weather folk are now predicting 24+ inches....

Report: Winter Wallop of Ought Nine #1

As the mid-Atlantic and most especially the piedmont region of Virginia and Maryland spent the day preparing and speculating about this winter storm event, I couldn't help but hold a childlike sense of anticipation that with all of the conditions in place, this year might bring a white Christmas to Takoma Park. I've lived here nigh on 16 Christmases now, and not a single one stands out as particularly white. Oh, there were no doubt a couple that came with a skiff of snow, but nothing like the ones I remember from childhood spent in the mountainous panhandle-berg of Maryland called Flintstone. As a child, every Christmas was spent at the home of my paternal grandparents.

One Christmas morning in particular stands out. We'd gone to bed with about 2 inches on the ground and a storm that was just starting to kick into high gear. On Christmas morning we awoke to discover that over night a huge comforter of sparkling crystalline fleece had been draped across the landscape. Our station wagon was just another lump in a world buried beneath 3+ feet of snow! It was awesome.

And while I don't expect this storm to produce like that one, it's gotten off to a good start. First flakes began their gentle decent around 8:30/9:00. By 11:00 PM there was a solid .5-inch dusting and then things picked up. At 2:30 AM I dipped my ruler into 3.5 inches on the deck railing outside the back door of the kitchen (the same perspective as the photo). At it's present rate, I would expect a 5 inch total by daybreak, and then the forecast calls for 8-12 more inches during the day, followed by 2-4 inches more through Saturday evening/night, and then lingering flurries on Sunday morning.

Reporting from ground zero of the “Winter Wallop of Ought Nine” --- "O, the weather outside is frightful, but in here, it's so delightful.....let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!"

Bon Appetit

My friend K. took me out to dinner tonight to celebrate the holidays, and we went to the Cafe Berlin on Capitol Hill, just a couple of blocks away from Union Station. I'd eaten there once before in the summer when I first moved to D.C. back in 1994. This evening it was decked out for Christmas, and our server sat us at the table next to the Christmas tree. It was very beautiful.

We began the meal with Heringstip as an appetizer. It's a mound of herring tidbits marinated in a stiff sour cream with apples and onions on a bed of bitter greens with a garnish of quartered tomatoes. K. loves fish with a passion, we rarely dine anywhere that he doesn't order some form of fish during the course of the meal.

For the entree, I chose the Roasted Loin of Venison with a Mushroom-Walnut Duxles Filling served over Cabernet-Fig Reduction with Maccaire Potato Cakes and a Cranberry Garnish. K. went with the Kassler Rippchen (Smoked Loin of Pork) served with sauerkraut and home fried potatoes, which he substituted for the spätzle. Both were well filling and so we forewent dessert as tempting as it was! For a simple digestif, he had an herbal liqueur, and I a shot of apple corn schnapps. It was delightful, and Irene, one of the owners was brouding over the place. If you are ever in D.C. and interested in authentic German cuisine, a quaint and sure to please option would definitely be Cafe Berlin.

What I'm Listening To #70

A holiday gift from dear friends. It's an amazing choral work, by an often neglected composer. You may not know it by name, but I'd wager that once you hear the sublime first movement "requiem aeternam" you'll either recognize it immediately, or never want to forget it. I have some really wonderful friends....

My Current Computer Wallpaper

Comes from my own gardens in April. As the weather has turned cold, snowy, sleety, rainy, windy--all the best stuff of Winter, it's wonderful to sit down in front of my computer and delight in my gardens to come.

Art I'm Owning #6

Some of the art I own is my own. I've already shared how I'm a quilter--and proudly so. I also paint in watercolor.

Here's a male nude that I painted back in 1991. It was when I was working on the human form. I thought I did a pretty good job, and then I showed it to my friend Susan. She seemed impressed with it, yet when I next encountered her current boyfriend, he siddled up to me to ask about the nude painting I'd made of a woman.... Oh bother, I guess I didn't quite get the chest...but honestly the abs, the genitals?

Art I'm Owning #5

This is one of two works I own by Ohio based printmaker, Andy Au. It's a monoprint entitled, "Turret 54". I love it. It references the power of Leonardo da Vinci's "Man," played against the suggestive sexuality of the gas-masked (rubber bondage) fetish in a doggy style position. I don't find it sexually stimulating in the least. But I appreciate the way it challenges contemporary mores in the same way that da Vinci's man hit his 16th century contemporaries. It's also a beautifully executed print.

What I'm Watching #223

Late to the party as usual. I just watched the 6th installment of the Harry Potter movies: "Harry Potter: And The Half-Blood Prince." I think this the worst one of the bunch. I was mostly bored by it. At times confused by the characters, and had no idea what either Harry or Dumbledore were trying to do. And then Dumbledore died. In between, Hermoine cried, Maggie Smith looked horribly old, Helena Bonham Carter acted like a freak, Malfoy cried, Ron still looked and acted mostly stupid, and his parent's home burned down, because Helena Bonham Carter was acting like a freak, and did I mention that Hermoine cried? People, this does not make for a good movie.

3 Takes On Global Warming

As world leaders meet in Copenhagen to discuss and set policy regarding this global environmental holocaust, here are 3 takes in art relevant to the event.

Today's Sermon #21

Today's sermon comes from an anonymous source and was written on a postcard sent to the post secret blog. I heard it read today when it was shared on the NPR program Interfaith Voices during a conversation with the blog's creator, Frank Warren.

"If oblivion is all there is when we die. If nothing happens other than suffering ends, or a happy life was lived, or an evil life was snuffed out, or a boring life is at last over. I think that’s a wonderful alternative to heaven and hell, and I choose oblivion.” ~ anonymous

Amen.

What I'm Watching #222

I was there in the autumn of 1967, and I'm glad that I am still here in 2009. A boat load of doubts was vanquished by the end result of this film.

Of the many critisms leveled against this film by critics and diehard trekkies, I would say---pish posh! Grow up, the film has.

What I'm Watching #221

"Every Little Step" is the story of the selection of the cast for the most recent revival of the 1976 Tony Award winning musical, "A Chorus Line". It not only chronicles the process of auditioning the new cast, but it tell us the story of the origins of the original musical with ample exerps from Michael Bennett (1943-1987) its creative genius.

For me this musical also holds a very personal place in my affections.

In the final years of my high school, I somehow convinced some of my classmates to join me on theatrical excursions into Detroit to see touring Broadway productions at the Fisher Theater. The first time that I did this it was a play called, "Sherlock Holmes" with Leonard Nimoy as Holmes, and Alan Suess as Professor Moriarity (somewhere I have a playbill with both of their autographs....). On another memorable evening, we also attended a performance of "Hello Dolly" starring Carol Channing produced by the Houston Lite Opera back when the NEA was flush with cash. The last event that I orchestrated before I left for college was "A Chorus Line."

It was a night full of epiphany: The language, the ideas, the angst, the sexuality, the honesty, and the triumph. For example, when the character of Michael spoke his truth, it cut me to the heart. I remember feeling unexpectedly stripped naked before my friends. It would be years before I was actually honest with them, and for those friends, my silence was well placed.

How times have changed! Yet, how universal the messages of "A Chorus Line" remain. And this film is a great documentary.

Art I'm Owning #4

A.K.A. my Holiday gift to myself. This small painting is by Chicago based artist Dean Grey. It's a work in watercolor and guache, and it's brilliant in both its color and execution. You can see more of his art and follow his thoughts on his blog "Exploding Doughnut".

http://explodingdoughnut.blogspot.com/

What I'm Listening To #69

Is not easy to define. The Low Anthem is a regional band whose music reflects so many other musicians from similar backgrounds like Nebraska's "Bright Eyes" or Pennsylvania's "Innocence Mission". Neither of which imagined themselves as Nebraska's or Pennsylvania's indi-folk icons. Whatever the context or catagory, I genuinely like the music. Raw, honest, sincere, eclectic without being bizzaar, it's really wonderful music.

AIDS Remembered

December 1st marked yet another International AIDS Day of rememberance, activism, education, and protest.

May the day come when such a commemoration will only be celebration for the end of the plague, for the extinction of the virus. After all, we took care of the Dodo bird, the Tasmanian Wolf, the Carolina Parakeet, and the Passenger Pigeon.
Praise to all who have joined hands in this cause. As we say at my school, "Together We Can".
Together means people of all races, all creeds, all genders, all languages, all sexualities. The greater our collective diversity, the more likely our collective desire and intellect will find a cure.
And until that day, may we all join in to do whatever we can to hasten it's advent among us.

When Sheep Sleep Perchance To Dream

Today's Sermon #20

Apparently there is some newly discovered evidence that God may actually have created Adam & Steve, too!

"Charlie Darwin" by The Low Anthem

I haven't sent out a video in a long time, this one is really sweet.

Black Friday Report

I ventured out on Friday, the most wicked shopping day of the year.

My first stop was Silver Spring, Maryland. There I found a parking lot only 60% full (a typical friday would find it 90% full). I purchased a flood light at Stroessener's Hardware (and helped a newly hired hispanic man with a crisp haircut--muy guapo--navigate the particulars of the cash register without any other customer appearing to cramp the experience.) Next, I visited the Border's Booksellers across Fenton Avenue and purchased an audio copy of Sarah Vowell's "The Wordy Shipmates". The store was only as busy as it would be on any other afternoon.

I left Silver Spring after finding no suitable table at Pier One Imports and drove over to IKEA in College Park. IKEA can be an utter nightmare, however, I found a descent parking place and made my way through the store comfortably to the purchase of a EFFECTIV cabinet. It matches two others that I had purchased there in the past and cost half as much as anything I would have seriously entertained at Pier One.

Other stops included the Bank of America branch in College Park, and the Giant in Hyattsville. Both were nearly empty. Make of this anecdotal data what you will....

Father Grant Gallup, 1932-2009, R.I.P.

The news has come to me on this day after Thanksgiving that a dear soul has departed our communion. Grant Gallup was an Episcopal priest who didn't really play by the rules of orthodoxy. He was born in the upper peninsula of Michigan, and was a member of the Stambaugh High School's graduating class of 1949. He became a priest in the diocese of Chicago where he served at the parish of St. Andrews and eventually made his way to the poorest barrio in Managua, Nicaragua. It was there in the barrio known as Monsignor Lezcaño, among his neighbors, that he died on Thanksgiving Day.

Dr. Louie Crew of Rutgers University shared this recollection from Grant’s days at St. Andrews in Chicago: “I remember asking Grant how those at St. Andrew's were dealing with his openness. "The same way I deal with theirs." When someone's son was arrested for using crack, Grant was there to help the family cope. When someone needed groceries to make it to the end of the month, Grant was there for them. His larder was never empty. On some days half the block seemed to show up in his dining room for a meal. He had the gift of endless, joyful hospitality.”

Beloved by so many in Managua, His funeral mass was celebrated today. He was buried in a cemetery just walking distance from the school, guest house and community center known as Casa Ave Maria that he established and maintained.

I shared one of my own memories of Grant on the blog, The Wounded Bird: “I was privileged to have known Grant in his final decades. I was even more blessed to have had the opportunity to visit with him at Casa Ave Maria in Managua on a pair of Christmases in 2003 and 2005. He was a master of hospitality, and his table in the poor barrio of Monsignor Lezcaño was like Louie's remembrance from Chicago, never empty. One night we walked through the streets to a nearby restaurant for a wonderful dinner, upon our stroll home a little boy on a bicycle called out to him, "Hello you old faggot!" and with out missing a beat in our conversation or a hint of irony, he waved at the lad and called back, "Good evening to you sweet boy!" He lived with such a level of honesty and generosity that everyone who knew him respected him and saw in him a witness of God's grace.”

Thanksgiving 2009

It was a nearly perfect Thanksgiving Day: cloudy, foggy, and drizzly with tons of defused light casting a crisp, almost neon pawl upon the world. I snapped this image of the Japanese maple in my backyard from the vantage point of a second story window, to prove it. In photography, light is everything.

As to the subject: I bought this tree back in 1999 because my ex- waxed passionate about Japanese maples, and I loved to give him gifts. It was awaiting purchase at a humble little nursery off of New Hampshire Avenue a couple of miles north of the Beltway. When I first saw it, it was in late October, and it's leaves were a brilliant red.

That red sold it to me. That was the last time that I saw its leaves as red.

In season, they're a mustard yellow-green. In autumn, they turn brown and shrivel into little bundles resembling burnt popcorn. For the past decade, they've been a disappointment to me. And now in this atypically moist cool (but not cold) Autumn, the tree reminds me of why I bought it in the first place.

What to feel.....

By Any Other Name...A Kiss, Is Just A Kiss

Seems that that is not always true... I just heard about the recent kafuffle over a kiss planted by Adam Lambert on the lips of another man during the recent AMA awards on TV. Where the hell to begin?

For everyone like me who doesn't give a rat's ass about the AMA awards OR policing the act of kissing (!), please tell those who do, that the world has not ended! --The sun continues to rise, the rain continues to fall. God has apparently not seen fit to smite His wicked children because of a kiss OR the AMA awards! Grace triumphs yet again...or does it? How is this different from any other day, God fearing or Godless?

How is this kiss any different from any other? From the kiss between Madonna and Brittany? or Will and Jeda? or myself and Josh? or you and any other person whose lips you wish to touch with yours (or tongue with your tongue for that matter)?

Kisses happen all the time and for all sorts of reasons. Pretending that they don't is ignorant. Shielding this fact from our children is an exercise in futility. Judging others for their kiss-choices is small minded, petty, and pathetic. Believing that any God condemns any act of caring, tenderness, or passion that is given between consenting adults is blasphemous.

If you don't like something, don't DO IT! Live your life for you! Let others discover their lives with the same freedom of choice and dignity. And judge NOT, lest you be judged some glad morning....

On An Elemental Level

This is YOU! I stumbled upon this and thought how completely perfect a coda it was to my recent post from Bill Bryson's book.

Today's Sermon #19

Red geranium
Reaching for the autumn sun—
One more day of life.

I wrote this haiku in 1998...I took the photo this afternoon.

What I'm Watching #220

"Ready? Okay!" is a movie with a very big heart, about a little boy who wants to be a cheerleader on this porochial school's fourth grade pep squad. The gay neighbor, Charlie, gets it. The grandmother gets it. His uncle Alex gets it.

And the movie is about what it takes for his mom to finally get it. A sweet film, with a positive message.

"You can do it! Yes, you can!"

Mid-November Gardens #1

With most of the flowering things finished and even the leaves mostly fallen from their branches, there are still things to witness. Take this terra cotta pot. I've had it for three years, and it's never "become" a member of the plant world, in spite of housing a collection each season.
Then I happened to take it off of the deck a month ago and set it on the moss encroached brick circle path where I forgot about it for a couple of weeks. Eventually I moved it up to the deck rail and within the last two weeks, it has turned these incredible shades of green as moss begins the process of colonizing it's furrowed surface. Isn't it beautiful?

And while most of the flowers are done, this odd little yellow nasturium has only just begun! And what an exotic little creature it is, too. When I study the blossoms, I am reminded of the flamboyant Chinese dragon costumes that celebrate the new year and sometimes guide the spirit of the dead toward their heavenly home in funeral processions.

What I'm Listening To #68

When I first heard the early CDs of Harry Connick, Jr., I was thrilled by his energetic, edgy-yet-vintage stylings of classical jazz songs.

If that's the Harry you love, keep playing those first CDs. This latest collection is like Harry singing karaoke, mediocre karaoke. Alas.

What I'm Watching #219

"The Kite Runner" is a powerful movie. I know it's yesterday's news. I just bought it today. I'm so glad that I did!

The performances are such that you empathize with nearly everyone. It is, however, in the end the story of a single man's evolution. That's its raison d'etre, and that's its Achille's Heal.

Holiday Shopping.

Living as I do just north of the District of Columbia, inside the infamous beltway, but in the MOST politically correct community in America east of Berkeley, California! I have many options when it comes to shopping. And while you'll find me toting a bag of organically grown veggies from the Sunday Farmer's market, or spending 3 times as much as I could for eye glasses, just because I want an honest-to-god optometrist shop alive and well on my Main Street, I cannot completely divorce myself from a childhood of box stores and strip malls. The vast majority of my discretionary spending occurs by conscious choice in Prince George's county, my county's more economically disadvantaged neighbor.

On occasion, however, I venture north to a collection of retail stores and restaurants sprawling across three expansive and interconnected groupings. The shops may have some sort of moniker, but I’ve never seen it. They are found off of exit 175 west between I-95 and Columbia, Maryland--very near to Fort Meade. I like going there because I can visit an everything story like Target, but also a specialty store like Borders Booksellers or Toy’s R Us. As it turned out today, I wanted to visit all of these and a few more besides. It’s was a mild, mostly cloudy with brilliant dabs of sunshine sort of day. A good day to browse and buy or not buy.

My first stop turned out to be the one that got me. I went to Borders, because it’s time to stop thinking about the last book I read and look for another one to divert my attention from the here and now. I chose two books after toying with four. Because I’d recently read his memoir, I picked up E. Lynn Harris’ “Basketball Jones,” and by Michael Chabon, “Gentlemen of the Road”. I then went to the DVD section in search of “Up,” but it was $29.95 and I know I can get it for ten to fifteen dollars cheaper at my local Giant grocery store!

So I turned and began perusing the DVD’s along the long wall of other choices when I happened upon “The Kite Runner”—a book that I had just put back—and that’s when I noticed him. He was a very handsome, rugged looking man of about 30. On his lap sat a little boy of about 4; a little boy pushing himself hard into his father’s chest, tugging at his shirt, rubbing the back of his hand, his forearm. A second son of about 7 was running around them and pointing out everything that he saw, as if he was somehow his father’s eyes. The man was tender in his responses and even apologized to me as he rounded the corner of the aisle in his wheelchair and mistakenly assumed that he had hampered my way. And that’s when his military haircut completed outed him. He was a soldier.

A soldier and a father with his two young sons, not on a mission to buy anything in particular, just hanging out together. And that’s when I noticed how often and emphatically the 7-year-old repeated the word “Daddy”. He started every sentence with it, and even ended some—mostly the questions—with it. And that’s when I thought I was going to explode in tears. For about five minutes, as I continued to shop and fight the urge to cry, I continued to swirl around this iconic trio. At one point I felt like a light bulb surrounded by moths…as inert and unconnected, yet somehow as magnetic, and that’s when I made my way to the check-out and left.

In my head I was hyper stimulated by the possibility that this man had been injured in Iraq or Afghanistan. I so wanted to meet him. Have that conversation. Convey my heartfelt appreciation. Provide some measure of succor to him and his sons. (And lest you think me hyper imaginative—I will guarantee you that he was military. No one cuts a head of hair like a military barber. Not the most ardent skinhead in Berlin! No one! When you see it as often as I do, you know what you’re seeing.)

But I didn’t. Instead I went out to my truck in the parking lot, and cried. And when I was done, I went to Pier One Imports…..

What The Fuck IS Wrong With Us?

From the Baltimore Sun on November 18th, I am beside myself with sadness. I am sad so often that it aches within my chest. I am only saved by equal amounts of joy.


"MANY UNANSWERED QUESTIONS IN KILLING OF YOUTH"
Grandmother asks why gay teen was in house with a convicted killer

It didn't happen often, but sometimes a student - usually a boy - would poke fun at Jason Mattison Jr.

About his skin-tight jeans and funky sweaters. About his boisterous voice that seemed to run nonstop. About his exuberance in recounting the most mundane of events. About his flamboyant mannerisms. He was 15, a sophomore in high school, and he was gay.

When someone harassed him in the halls of West Baltimore's Vivian T. Thomas Medical Arts Academy, he had a sharp, witty comeback at the ready, and he walked away smiling.

"Even if it hurt him, he gave the other person the impression he was stronger," recalled his English teacher, Ryan C. Jones.

But while Jason appeared strong and confident in the safe confines of his school on North Calhoun Street, unafraid to embrace his sexual orientation as part of his personality, the world outside did not offer those same protections.

Last week, at his aunt's house, one of the few occupied homes on a block boarded and sagging, he was found dead - raped, gagged with a pillowcase, stabbed repeatedly in the head and throat, and shoved into an upstairs closet. Jason's killing left his teachers, classmates and relatives in tears and family members asking questions of one another even in the days leading up to today's funeral.

Did Jason leave his mother's house and move in with his aunt, as his grandmother suggested? Or was he just visiting on that fateful day, as a cousin said? And why did people in his aunt's house open their door to the suspect, a convicted killer released early from prison because of flaws in his case?

"From now on, we do have to take more care in who we let in and who we trust," said Jason's cousin, Laquanna Couplin, who lives in the house on Llewellyn Avenue where Jason was killed.

She described Dante Parrish, 35, who is charged with first-degree murder in the case, as a longtime family friend, but she would not say whether he lived there or visited.

Couplin spoke briefly Monday while standing on her front porch, complaining that too many stories, too many accusations, made it difficult to grieve, and that she was tired of trying to set the record straight.

"He was a terrific boy, and we miss him very much," Couplin said. "We're hoping that justice is served and that the person who is responsible for this goes to prison and doesn't get out."

Of Jason, she said, "He was a sweet young man. He wasn't afraid of who he was. He had a life ahead of him. I just wish he could've had a chance to live it."

But his paternal grandmother, Wanda Williams, one of the first Jason confided in about being gay and who handed him a few dollars now and then for food and clothes, questioned how other relatives could have allowed the boy to be in the same house with Parrish, given his violent past.

"I haven't cried so much this entire life," Williams said. "My grandson hollering for help and there is nobody there to help him."

Jason loved texting and talking, and he spent his evenings chatting with friends on MySpace.

Jason was one of the most popular kids at school, his English teacher said, always first to class, always first to the cafeteria, where students fought to sit at his table, always first to turn in his homework and always getting near-perfect grades.

"He was outspoken and excited about everything he talked about," Jones said. "Walking into school, he was the first one to share what he did over the weekend. He was very, very popular, and he was everyone's best friend."

Jason wanted to be a pediatrician, Jones said, and the only thing the two debated was Jason's constant chatter.

"He was not a behavioral problem," Jones said. "He was a talking problem."

But after every dispute, Jason eased the tension by laughing, smiling and saying: "It's not that serious."

The Vivian T. Thomas school has about 425 students, about 80 percent of them female, and Jason quickly gained friends with his eye for fashion. He dressed in bright colors and scarves, and if there was a hole in his jeans, he had put it there to make a statement.

Jason hated conformity. He wanted to change the spelling of his name to "Jaysen," and that's how his classmates remembered him on their cards.

"Normal was ugly to him," Jones said.

Jatia Pledger, his best friend in high school, said girls at the school stuck up for Jason when boys gave him trouble: "We all had his back."

But as much as Jason talked, he remained secretive about his home life.

"When he was in school, he was a whole other person," Jatia said. "We were his family."

Jones, his teacher and confidant, said he never asked. "Looking back, I wish I would have," Jones said. "It was something that never came up. Personally, I wondered what his family thought of his orientation."

Jason's grandmother said the boy's father was out of the picture and that she became the de facto authority figure. His mother did not return repeated phone calls seeking comment.

When Jason came out as gay, there was some dissension in the family and though Williams said she stood by her grandson, his declaration caught her off guard.

"I accepted his sexual preferences," she said. "But I told him, 'You're young and don't understand life.' I told him, 'Plenty of young women would love to be with you.' He said he likes boys. Young people don't like to listen to adults, but I told him I'm not going to push him away."

Williams said Jason left his mother recently and moved into the house on Llewellyn Avenue, though family members there said he only visited.

A Baltimore police spokesman would say only that Jason "was staying at his aunt's house." It was there that Jason met Parrish, with whom the spokesman said the teen had a "forced sexual relationship."

Parish was 24 when he pleaded guilty to shooting and killing a man on Maryland Avenue in March 1999. In 2008, the Innocence Project, a group of attorneys who help people they believe were wrongly convicted, took up his case.

They found that Parrish had pleaded guilty to second-degree murder based on a faulty statement of facts read into the court record - there were two witnesses, not three, and a gun was found weeks after the shooting, not with Parrish when he was arrested.

A judge overturned his conviction, citing ineffective defense counsel, and in January, Parrish entered what is called an Alford plea, which allowed him to deny guilt but concede that the state had enough evidence to convict him. He was freed on time served, effectively cutting a 30-year sentence to 10.

Whether Parrish went from prison to live at the rowhouse on Llewellyn Avenue or frequented it could not be determined. Couplin would not elaborate beyond confirming that the man was a longtime family friend.

The day Jason's body was found, it was Couplin who called police, at 3 a.m. Nov. 10. She reported that someone had broken into the house and stolen a television from the living room. A police officer came and wrote a larceny report.

Couplin called police again at 5:09 a.m., saying that she saw blood on a banister leading to the second floor. She also reported Jason missing.

Police found his body in the back of a second-floor closet. Charging documents say that "several witnesses were identified and positively identified defendant Dante Parrish as the person responsible for this act." Couplin said she now believes the missing television was a diversion to make it look like a break-in.

Police arrested Parrish two days later at a convenience store on Moravia Road. A department spokesman said Parrish confessed to the killing the next day and is being held without bail.

Now, Jason's family and friends are left to mourn - informally at a memorial service at the school Tuesday night, and formally at a funeral at 11 a.m. today at Unity United Methodist Church on Edmondson Avenue.

Many of his friends learned of Jason's death from rumors on MySpace. They didn't believe it until they arrived at school and found his chair empty and a somber English teacher to break the tragic news.

"We were in shock," Jatia said. "We're still in shock."

Remembrances have filled Jason's MySpace page, which contains one note that seems indisputable, even amid the questions swirling around this death.

It reads: "Mood: Jason is loved."