Filed under: Rant
Rule 213
Mass Transportation Etiquette
Obviously personal and preventative hygiene is best undertaken in the privacy of your own home. However occasionally moments arise when it becomes necessary to make a hygienic adjustment in public. This can be particularly awkward when using a mode of public transportation. If you have to blow your nose, for example, while on the Subway, be brief and discreet. It is advisable not to honk it out like the incoming Staten Island Ferry. Also do not examine the end result like it is one of the new Ten Dollar Bills.
Filed under: Layers
Horoscope
Libra
For 03/30/2006
Just when you were thinking it might be safe to come out, and that the intrigue of the past few days might be over — well, you've just discovered that it's not. Fortunately, the secrecy is over. The universe seems to have decided to not only take your side and coax you out of the darkness, but to bring you right out into the open. You can thank the persuasive Moon for that, since yesterday's Solar Eclipse is still very much in effect, bringing out all the depth, intensity and intimacy in each and every one of your relationships.
OK, I’m Gay, lets get that out of the way. I’ve hinted to here, but I’m tired of hinting. If any of you think I’m crazy for saying it bluntly, well blame my horoscope, or the planets and stars. I had to say it here so I could move on. I am tired of the charade and I might as well start ending it here too. The whole Fifty Year Old Virgin thing eludes to the fact that I am very new to this. I am starting over. I am so damn bad at it too. So completely clumsy around the topic and others, that I feel like I’m fifteen. Pardon me while I trip down the stairs of this new life.
Do I know what being Gay means? No, not even to me. I am still learning. That is what I am trying to discover and it is my plan, in part, to use this blog for that. The best I can do is to describe how it feels at the moment, the definition of what being Gay on March 30 is to me, and then move on to the next day. Not that I plan to make an entry here everyday, that might get boring.So how do I feel? I feel scared, uncertain, determined and energized.
stay tuned…
Filed under: Layers
"By looking up I see downward."
Tycho Brahe
I’m not sure I believe in astrology. I’m not saying I don’t either. Whenever I read a horoscope, the irony of what has been written doesn’t escape me, but I think that can be attributed to skillful, coy writing. Sometimes though the prophecy does send a chill down my spine. So here’s my horoscope for today, sent to me by a friend.
You'll be torn now — between keeping yourself absolutely, one hundred percent silent, and letting absolutely everything you know be known. What a decision. The culprits behind your dilemma, of course, are conversational Mercury and all-or-nothing Pluto, who've settled together in your house of communication, working together with the solar eclipse, the mother of all astrological energies, urging you to make a decision. Once you've made it, don't waffle. Let the rest of the world play games.
I heard a Robin this morning as I was waking. I haven't seen one yet, but maybe today. Spring really is in the air, full of promise. It is a pregnant time for me too. Lots of possiblitiy, some of it risky, I suppose, and all of it up to me. And my daughter is due to deliver her first baby any day now.
Today, I just feel like hiding….but won't. It makes me think of a poem I used to like. Since I've been exploring verse lately, I'll post it.
I Meant To Do My Work Today
By Richard LeGallienne
I meant to do my work today,
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand,
So what could I do but laugh and go?
Filed under: verse
You seem to dance with me
and I wonder why.
I surely dance with you
and also wonder why.
We
do not touch,
we
do not talk.
I never hear you breathe,
smell your breath,
or fall into your neck and hair,
when I pass
the edge
and fall.
And
I wonder why.
Do you imagine,
the way I imagine,
your perfect body
upon my bed
surrendered?
I had it all set. It had taken me a few blocks, but everything was balanced. My hat was on just right, holding my new cheap earphones in place. If I don’t have the hat on right, all I hear is treble, forget the bass. I guess I’ll have to get new headphones when it warms up. The scarf was in the right place, so it didn’t pull out the phones. After a couple of tries, I finally found the right play list. And I made it through the turnstile at the T station without losing my backpack or dropping my Charlie card. (I am hopelessly clumsy) I was on the platform and I was beginning a perfect day. The first day of Spring.Yet there was something wrong.
“What the hell is that?” I am sure I said out loud. Mixed into my music was this loud wavering, sizzling squeal. It sounded like someone trying to tune their cat with a George Forman grill. Was there something wrong with my I-pod. That’s what I get for not paying for all of my music. So I paused the song, but the poor cat only screamed louder. Thank God, I would hate to have to replace my second favorite battery operated device. What the hell is that!?! So I took off my hat and my phones and then I figured it out. It was an MBTA approved street musician. I put the phones back on and tried turning the volume up, but nothing could balance out that squeal.
How did this guy get approved? Who did he pay? The sound of his bad amplifier and his poorly tuned guitar were almost hidden by his terrible playing and his supremely horrible voice. (I know I’m over doing the adverbs and adjectives here guys, but you weren’t there) How does someone go about getting one of these permits? I began to wonder if there was a schedule posted somewhere on MBTAcom for the times and locations of the individual performers. That way I could find out his permitted days and take a taxi, or just call in sick, anything not to hear that sound again.
When I first started taking subways, back in the 80’s in NYC, occasionally there would be a performer on a platform, but not often. Visitors from Boston would ask, “Don’t you have musicians in the subway?” A short, “No,” was always my answer. I found them annoying then too, I guess. Actually there weren’t many. I’m not sure why, but I think we just moved too fast there to stand to stop and listen, so there was no money in it. Maybe you might see a performer in a big station, where several different lines met up, but not often. The trains don’t come as often here, so I guess we have more time to listen to a set, feel guilty and throw something in the hat. I began to wonder if he would take ten bucks to stop playing until my train came.
I think Bostonians are more tolerant. Of course, lots of young people from Long Island come to Boston, to get away from Mom and Dad, ostensibly to study Business or Law or Medicine or Engineering, but in reality they want to become musicians. So I imagine the ones that don’t become successful musicians, become lawyers or doctors or even managers of a Massapequa McDonalds, but unfortunately for us, not this guy. So I’m down there waiting for a train and I’m forced to listen to him turn a cat inside out and wishing I had a tape recorder. Why a tape recorder? Well I figure a few more minutes of listening and I’m going to garret him with my headphone leads. So when I’m arrested and it goes to trial, the minute my attorney, he’s from Oyster Bay by the way, plays the tape, I’ll get off. There isn’t a jury of my peers that would convict me after listening to that man made sound.
Of course I have chosen to live in a city. A big brash loud East Coast city. I’ve lived in NYC, Buffalo and Boston, each city is slightly different, especially the background level. Boston could be worse. I am sure the background noise is the reason personal listening devices have become so ubiquitous. City dwellers want to filter the noise out of their lives, or at least choose the noise they prefer to hear. We want to balance out the dissonance. Our MP3 players allow us to have a few moments of equilibrium in our day. We are attempting to find equal footing while we fight the horde. So why, on this first day of Spring is this guy fucking with my balance. My few minutes at the station every morning are the equinox between the house and the office and it should be sacred.
Fortunately an Ashmont train pulled into the station and I finally found a way to escape the poor, poor pitiful musician and the horrible viscous other worldly sounds.
Well ok, he wasn’t that bad, but lordy he wasn’t good.
Filed under: verse
Green trucks, green chairs and green water
All flow through my thoughts.
A constant color.
Each one a reminder of a pleasant surrender.
Your slender arms, clinging and holding
Me, so completely, that I can’t forget that
I was young, and you were young and
Perfect too.
A brief moment when your perfect body
Was held close to my perfect body,
Resisting only the river’s flow.
The blog is a week old now and I’m pretty happy with it. The feedback from friends has been positive, well mostly.
Dar said, “Fabulous. I’m so glad — you’re a great writer and an interesting thinker and you should use those talents. Others should enjoy them. Arcs and circles indeed. But how can you be so vulnerable? How do you dare? It’s the right thing, but so damn hard. I am humbled.” That’s quite a compliment coming from her. She is a great writer and editor. I am the one that should be humbled. After everything I’ve put her through, it is great to have her support.
Bro has been quiet. I’m not sure if he’s read any of it or not. He’s very down on the Net since his very personal experience in the Dot-Com Crash. I can’t say that I blame him, I just hope the experience hasn’t turned him into a Luddite. What am I thinking, he’s too attached to his Nano. Since he, like Dar is a writer, I have to wonder what he thinks.
Ara has seen it too, but no feedback. Of course I dropped a huge emotional bomb on her today, so she has a lot of personal debris to get out of the way. She wasn’t very surprised by my revelation. I think she was just disappointed that I didn’t come clean sooner.
Steph, Jeremiah and Arthur have been wonderfully supportive. I couldn’t ask for more. Of course that is no surprise and I guess in some way I have chosen them to help hold my hand as I start this adventure. I had dinner at their place last night and it was amazing. They have such passion and promise. They seemed so excited to have me over, I feel like I have them fooled and I don’t deserve the attention. I was drunk with energy when I left there last night. I feel like a vampire sometimes when I’m with them. I have to be careful not to abuse the relationship and I hope I repay them in some way.
The great thing about going back to school is that I have discovered that I can learn a lot from young people. I have had to reconsider all of my assumptions about life. I’ve been accused of being puerile. Perhaps it is my last waltz of youth before I slouch into the comfortable chair of my emeritus years. I know some think I’m foolish, but I think I should rage, rage against the dying of the light. No one has called me a pitiful old fool, yet. I’ll keep you updated though.
Filed under: Come again?
Boston Common
Thursday, March 23, 2006
4:41 PM
A young man speaking loudly into his cell phone.
“Who did you sleep with last?”
“No, no, no, no! Was it a boy or a girl?”
“Oh my God you’re tedious. OK! How many girls, did you FOOL AROUND with in the last six months?”
“How many boys did you fool around with in the last six months?”
“Why? WHY? Because you’re only as gay as the last three people you slept with and honey you’re gay!”
Filed under: verse
New shoes, white shirt,
A noisy T ride.
A cold common walk.
I finally arrive.
No boss,
A late boy.
Car crash ring tones
Wait, coffee, wait,
Wait, wait,
Wait,
Wait.
Two live Kennedys,
One quite cute.
Talk, email, coffee and calls.
A boring gray desk,
And tired old men,
Time to set-up,
Hurry and wait.
Trips back and forth,
Load up, uncoil,
Set-up, tape down.
A splinter removed.
Too many text messages,
About amazing rich men,
Time passes slowly,
But we’re finally done.
A cross common walk.
Another T ride.
A cold concord walk.
Four flights to the top.
No American or Russian or
Brazilian boys wait.
Old shoes, yellow shirt, warm bath,
Good night.
