Sunday, December 23, 2001
I'm up in Salem, NH for the holiday and have been since Thursday. It is a chilly little place. I forgot how cold it can get here. The cold just pervades every nook and cranny of the house unless the heat is turned up full force. The days are very short (I think sunset was at 4:08 or something ridiculous like that) and it looks very wintry, although there isn't any snow...right now. I grew up here. It has really expanded since I was a kid. There were still several dairy farms here when I was growing up. We used to take an annual field trip to Turner's Dairy to see them milk the cows. We even got to pat them. I still have no fear of cows but I am terrified of horses. Turner's Dairy is now a golf course. Salem is not a bad place. It is unofficially one of the northern most suburbs of Boston (although technically it is not part of greater Boston). Driving around doing errands the other day I thought to myself it really wouldn't be such a bad thing to find a nice little house with a yard that I could putter in and settle down here close to my family. Unfortunately, I can't do it. I may find it theoretically intriguing to live somewhere quiet but I would go crazy living here. I think if I weren't gay, I never would have left. I wonder what my life would have been like in that scenario. In some alternate timeline I am living in a split level ranch with a wife named Jessica and three snot nosed kids. I go to soccer games, grocery shop and am 45 lbs overweight. I watch Monday night football and actually know what is going on and I have a small but well-equipped woodshop in the basement next to my spotless garage. I drive a Dodge Caravan. I wonder if I'm happy in that timeline...
Anyway, time with the family is always a challenge. I love them and enjoy being with them but all the old stuff...the issues...the unresolved, irresolvable things just make it less than perfect. My family suffers from "can't talk about that" syndrome. Unlike me, the rest of my family prefers to skirt issues. I have some of that in me but have become more adept at spilling my guts and not keeping things in. They just deny things. They think if they deny something long enough, it will at least go away or at best completely change for the better with absolutely no effort required on their part. Case in point, my being gay. It has been discussed exactly twice since I came out in 1990. Once was a fight because my parents felt if they had done something sooner (like therapy) I could have been "changed". The second time was my mother asking me if I was still "that way". I don't have the time, energy or desire to fight that battle. It really isn't worth it. So here I am, my own island for the time being. My own little gay ray of light in this very "gay unfriendly" neck of the woods. Closets here are slammed shut and sealed. People fear being outed. But as in every good homophobic community the rest area on the interstate is chock full of horny men doing the deed...with each other. It puts New York sex clubs to shame...but I don't know that first hand. Honest. It wasn't my first hand (at it) it was my left hand. But that was several summers ago. I digress.
So in a nutshell, I'm alone, cold, bored and misunderstood. Sounds like Christmas the way it was meant to be! Merry Christmas everyone. Thank goodness it only happens once a year.
Saturday, December 22, 2001
A whole week has passed
since I blogged last.
How did it go so fast?
All that time is in the past.
Saturday, December 15, 2001 What's a unemployed, 30-something gay New Yorker to do? Plenty. I feel like I am busier without a job than when I had one. Yesterday was one of those days. I got up late...and got ready to go out for the day starting with lunch with Joe. Before that I stopped to buy Christmas cards at Delphinium, my favorite card store and conveniently located just a few doors down from my apartment. It was drizzling but still unusually warm for this time of year. I walked up 9th Ave to Eatery to meet Joe. They have a $7.95 lunch special that you should check out if ever in the Hell's Kitchen area at lunch time. Joe and I ate and caught up. It was nice. We worked together until very recently, I was laid off and he wasn't. So, after lunch I went shopping. It is our civic duty these days after all. I actually ended up at Macy's and let me tell you, the crowds in that store are vicious! Not for the faint of heart. It certainly doesn't seem like there is a recession when you spend a little time in that place. I didn't really buy anything, I tried but there is such a thing as too much choice. I got a little overwhelmed. I kept picking up things, turning the corner and finding something cheaper and nicer, putting the first item down and then starting the process over again. "Oh, this is nicer. I'll get this and just put this back....oh, but look at this...etc." So I left. With nothing. It was like being thirsty in the middle of the ocean, water water everywhere...
So I walked home from Herald Square to 47th St. It was busy and just at that murky time where the lights inside the buildings look warm and inviting. It was really nice. I got home and decided to go to the gym. Well worth it. I had a good workout and the gym wasn't even crowded. Plenty of eye candy too! Always a plus. I came back home and got ready for a party I was invited to at my friend Paul's. There were so many people there I haven't seen in ages. It was fantastic. It was relaxing to be around old friends. I thought at first that it would be kind of tense because most of the people there I had met through my ex boyfriend, but I was pleasantly surprised to learn that all of them had no issues with me at all. So we spent the night laughing and catching up. I went to View with Suzanne for a couple of hours of delightful conversation. She decided at around 3:00 that she needed to sleep. So home she went...and off to Rawhide I went. Interesting. The one guy that I found attractive also found me attractive but his extremely drunken state and dribble running down his chin when he spoke turned me off a little. I grabbed a cab and was home, safe and sound by 4:30 (after a quick stop at my favorite video store to purchase a Blue Vanities vintage 70's porn, of course!)
Thursday, December 13, 2001 Diva Recently, a close friend of mine has been calling me a drama queen. He's been using the term to my face, in public and private. It irks me. Of course I take it with a grain of salt because he is also the guy who, in a drunken stupor, told me that I don't even have the slightest streak of "cool" in my body and when I moved to New York I got a big shock when I realized how "uncool" I was. He then stated that "New York had kicked my ass." Fine. Believe what you want. But it's not true.
But this drama queen thing...hmmm. Is it true? Let's recount my day so far.
I dragged myself out of bed and sighed as I crossed the kitchen to the bathroom the weight of 8 weeks of unemployment pressing down ever so heavily on my shoulders. "I just can't go on like this...I JUST CAN'T!", I wailed and fell sobbing to the floor.
Actually none of that happened, but the way my friend makes it sound you'd think that is the normal course of events in my life. Human interaction is all drama anyway, isn't it?
Tuesday, December 11, 2001
I'm starting to drive myself crazy. Spending most of my waking hours alone (since I no longer have the company of other adults during the day re: the layoff) is beginning to get to me. I've been sleeping late and not really looking that hard for a job. I'm starting to use the term "lazy" when I describe myself. Not good.
On the flip side, I found I have a talent that may come in useful in these days of terrorism. I am a bioterrorists wet dream. Apparently, I have been walking around with a case of strep throat for at least a week. Sick as a dog I managed to mingle among the masses on a daily basis. It was assumed by the doctor that I would be resting in bed while waiting for the throat culture to come back. He was wrong. I had a weekend full of activity that I needed to attend to even though I felt like a reheated piece of shit. Yesterday, I got the call that I needed an anti-biotic to kill the strep. I could take 10 days of pills or go get a shot. I chose the shot. They give it to you in the ass...Not fun because: A. I had to expose my pasty ass to a complete female stranger (the nurse). B. It hurts like a fucker today. When I went to get the shot, I was told to continue the bed rest. I explained that I hadn't been getting bed rest. The doctor said, "Well, then you've probably spread the strep to quite a few people." Wow, I feel like an army of one. Michael Young, bioterrorist.
Monday, December 10, 2001
If I were a work of art, I would be Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa.
I am extremely popular and widely known. Although unassuming and unpretentious, my enigmatic smile has charmed millions. I am a mystery, able to be appreciated from afar, but ultimately unknowable and thus intriguing.
Last Sunday morning, I was walking home from Guy's apartment with a delicious cup of coffee and feeling very much a part of this city that I have come to adore more than I ever thought I would. The hubbub is back. The crowds extended all the way through Times' Square to 8th Avenue and beyond. I decided that a newspaper would be appropriate. I walked toward the bodega I frequent for all those little purchases: Ben & Jerry's, Blondies, Smints, OJ, Snickers bars and of course the Sunday New York Times. The crossing light indicated that I should remain where I was else I would be flattened by the oncoming traffic of the avenue. So I ceased my steps and paused in wait for the DONT WALK to change to the more welcoming WALK. I felt a tap on my left shoulder. I turned my head. My mouth feel open in disbelief and horror. God! How can this be? Why? Why me? There stood my ex. I haven't seen him (except very briefly...and accidently, in Boston in the summer of 2000) for at least two years. He scared me. He looked horrific. Waxen. Sick. Grey. Otherworldly. I wanted to run. I wanted to make believe he wasn't there. I wanted to crawl under a rock. I take comfort in the fact that I looked great. Rested, clean, shaven, well dressed for a day of Christmas shopping. He said Hi and tried to kiss me...I pushed him away. Hurt look on his face. Made him look worse. I said, "What are you doing here?" He said something I can't recall. We talked about my boots or some such nonsense...My blood pressure skyrocketed. I wondered if the light would ever change to WALK... Blah blah blah...what? I got confused. Blurred. GO AWAY! He stood there. I was flabberghasted. What to do? Then he said something, it was garbled. I said, "I see you are still doing drugs then?" He said, "What is that comment supposed to mean?" I said, "Whatever you think it should." Light turned to a white WALK. I proceeded. He said, "Are you running away from me?" I said, "No, I'm going to get the paper." It was a lie...I was running. Fight or flight...I chose flight. We got to the bodega... "So is this it? Should I say goodbye?" he asked. I said, "OK, then. Thanks. BYE!" and went into the store. When I came out, he was gone.
We will never be friends, he and I. I thought once that we would be. I was wrong. Our history is long past. Our life together is dead and buried. The worst part though is that I cried when I got home because I treated him like shit and he meant soooo much to me once. I still miss him, and the tragedy is that I think I always will.
Sunday, December 09, 2001
I'm feeling a little old tonight, like I'm on the edge of my final aging process. Beginning to skid uncontrollably to the grave, I fear. My face looks worn and dull. My eyes have no sparkle to them... It's cold and dark outside. I miss the youthful optimism I used to have. The feeling of endless possibilities that has long-since evaporated is something I miss desparately. I wake up in the morning out of habit, not because I want to...it's tragic to age and realize it. If there is a God (which, as you know, I doubt) I hate Him for giving us self-realization! What a cruel joke. Fucker.
My current favorite lyric is...(Bent - "Swollen")
shade of loud
floats just like...
GORGEOUS when sung...and reminds me (for some reason) of when I was soooo much younger.
Winter has arrived. It's cold. Lots of rain yesterday. Snow in the high country. Otherwise it was a regular weekend. Not very exciting...except...
I went to dinner last night at a restaurant called The Park. The food was delicious and it is supposedly the place to be. Well much to my delight, I had a direct unobstructed view to the lovely Molly Ringwald, sitting at first alone and very well-lit in one of the restaurants deep, curved leather banquett booths. She is actually quite stunning. She had a short neat haircut (still red) and was wearing a simple black wraparound dress with a slighty plunging neckline. Her skin was luminous. I kept looking at her but did not want to stare. The strange part of it all was not that she was there it was that I kept getting the feeling she was looking at me but not because I was gazing at her but just because she was glancing at me. It was nice to think that Molly Ringwald might possibly be checking me out. But of course she most likely wasn't...it's just nice to think she might have been.
Wednesday, December 05, 2001
It is December, isn't it? I've been Christmas shopping. The sun sets around 4:30. The tree is up at Rockefeller Center. But it was 68 degrees today (20 C). I walked around without a jacket. The sun felt warm on my back. My windows have been open for at least the last week because it gets too warm in my apartment if I close them. WIll it remain like this all winter? (I hope so) Will it ever snow? (I don't really care) I like this LA in New York thing. As long as it is only the weather that settles in and not the residents of LA.
Saturday, December 01, 2001
If I were a James Bond villain, I would be Ernst Stavro Blofeld.
I enjoy fluffy white cats, dropping people in piranha pools, and initiating World War III.