The Wednesday before Easter I went to lunch with Randy and Arthur, after we finished a video shoot. It was a gorgeous day and we didn’t get a chance to eat until late. We decided to hit a local pub, ostensibly because they have great burgers, but we really wanted beer. Spring was in the air and we had just finished shooting at a grade school. I think there was something about being in a school on a warm Spring day that made us want to play hooky. So we finished the shoot and hit the pub. We knew that we were not going to return to work, sober at least.
Randy is straight and this was the first time I’d been in a social situation with him since I started to Out myself. The intriguing thing is, until that lunch I assumed that Randy thought I was straight. Now I am not sure what he thinks. If you’ve been around me at all in the last few months, you would see the change, at least I think. But during lunch I could see confusion in Randy’s face when he saw me interact with Arthur. And twice when an opportunity came up for me to directly address my orientation I directly avoided it.
Of course assumptions are funny things. I assumed he originally thought I was straight. Why? Because when I met him originally I acted straight. Maybe he didn’t think I was Straight. Perhaps he has Gaydar and is good as spotting those things. Of course I don’t think Straight men have Gaydar, I believe only women and Gay men have it. God, knows I don’t have it. Perhaps I don’t have it because I have so much baggage. I’m still prejudiced in some ways. If a friend says, “Oh he’s Gay.” Often my reaction is, “Really?” or “No?” After fifty years I am conditioned to think it’s a bad thing.
The whole lunch made me ponder where I am on the denial scale. The questions I am asking myself are, Does it matter? How far do I have to go with this thing? Am I being dishonest with a friend/associate, that knew me as straight, if I don’t clearly Out myself? Maybe I’m over reacting just because I’ve found a new religion. (Since this was the Wednesday before Good Friday, I did think about St. Peter and the three denials. It also made me choose a particular song of the day.) Maybe its egotistical to even think people care one way or another. Of course on occasion my Father was known to say, “Mark, you think too much.”
The hamburgers were great!
One of the last things I do in the morning is to put my ear phones in and turn on my iPod before I leave the apartment. This morning as I did that, I began to wonder if my Song of the Day list, that I’ve started here is reflective and or predictive of what is going on in my life. Most of the songs I pick just are chosen, because they struck a chord that day. I will have to admit that the choices for last week were chosen because of the biblical references. (I’ll write more about that some other time.)
So I thought is the Song of the Day the soundtrack of my life? Is it the score of my moods? Then I thought of Steph of course, because she is so fond of movie soundtracks. She really likes soundtracks. Then I thought of Elizabethtown, a score and movie she and I have spoken about, but that I have not really seen or heard. I made a mental note to rent the film and then to write Steph next week, after she returns from her trip to Nicaragua, to discuss it with her. Of course she got me again. When I got to work there was a email from Steph telling me that she had made a couple of CDs of the Elizabethtown soundtrack for me. She was trying to arrange a way for me to get the discs before she left.
I haven’t heard the discs yet, but it should be interesting. It is so weird to have this connection with Steph. If you read my blog, you would think she and I talk a lot. We don’t. I see her once a week and usually that is accidentally or very casually. We are both busy with the end of the school year, so we don’t have much free time. We are both very fond of Jeremiah and Arthur, but this psychic connection seems to have little to do with that, other than that is how we met. I do not know what it is. It makes me smile and yearn for more, to want to figure it out. It makes me think of a few lines from the song Woodstock of course.
And I feel to be a cog in something turning
Well maybe it is just the time of year
Or maybe it’s the time of man
I don’t know who l am
But you know life is for learning
We are stardust
We are golden
And we’ve got to get ourselves
Back to the garden
I’ve been thinking about music a lot lately. I guess that’s obvious. This morning I was awakened by Scott Joplin on the radio. NPR was doing a piece about Joplin and a recording of a recently found piano roll was playing when my clock radio went off. It was the "Maple Leaf Rag." How can you not like that number? After I got my coffee I remembered another piece by Joplin, that I love. I found it later in my collection. Its called Solace. I’ve played it about 30 times today.
Did Scott Joplin find me today, or did I find him?
Filed under: I'm Not Gay
I love my iPod. My kids got it for me in September and it has really kept me entertained. I’ve noticed that what I listen to on the Nano has changed since I’ve moved to Cambridge. Before I moved I primarily listened to it in the car, now I listen to it on the subway. In the car, I listened to more techno/dance tracks. On the T I seem to listen to more old rock and folk stuff. I hardly ever use the shuffle mode. I’m too much of a control freak
Last night I went out for dinner with Jeremiah and Arthur. We had some great BBQ and then went back to their place and Arthur made these very decadent baked apples. (I think I may post another entry soon titled, Arthur Is Trying To Make Me Fat!) I ate and drank way too much. So on my way home I was just too…too to fight with the iPod, so I got on the T and just put it on shuffle. That’s when I discovered my iPod has been reading my blog, because it obviously thinks I’m Gay.
I am not the first person to get paranoid about his iPod. A few months ago my friend Max sent me a funny link from Craigslist, titled “My Ipod Shuffle thinks I'm Gay” Of course I thought it was a very funny post and I’ve sent it to a few my friends. But last night mine got me. So here’s the playlist I heard last night:
1. Sweet Dreams – Eurhythmics
2. Breathe – Telepopmusik
3. Relax – Frankie Goes to Hollywood
4. Don’t Leave Me This Way – Bronski Beat
5. Lucky Star – Madonna
6. Boys Don’t Cry – The Cure
7. Boys Keep Swinging – David Bowie
8. Betty Davis Eyes – Kim Carnes
See what I mean about the list. It gets better. I like Bluegrass, I can’t help myself, I lived in Kentucky too long, so when the 9th song came up, I thought maybe someone was screwing around with me.
9. Dueling Banjos – Earl Flatt & Lester Scruggs
Of course Dueling Banjos is from the score of the film Deliverance and if you know the film, you’ll see the irony in its juxtaposition to the other songs. If you don’t know the film, well rent it and then squeal like a pig.
Filed under: I'm Not Gay
Should a blog entry be hard to write? I’ve been trying to write this for awhile, but that whole Logos thing really threw me. Now instead of logophilia, I’ve worried so much that it might appear like I have logorrhea that it has given me logophobia. I just can’t seem to get anything written. So instead of writing one post on this subject I’m just going to start writing a series, maybe that will help me get over the hump.
Obviously I’ve been thinking about words a lot lately, specifically labels. Labels make sense in some ways. I can use a word that you immediately recognize as a complex thing, formula or concept. The sweet shorthand that make language so powerful. So why do I title this entry, and the series that will follow, “I am not Gay”? Because I don’t believe in absolutes. Labels are, just like the perfect example of the ultimate label, Black and White. And absolutes are dangerous.
Am I Gay because you call me Gay, or he/she calls me Gay, or I call myself Gay? The answer right now is, I’m Gay because I say I’m Gay. After thirty years of hiding it, what’s another thirty. No one was to know but me. My own Mother didn’t know until a few days ago, so I think I could have kept up the charade a bit longer. But I have to admit I don’t like the idea that I have labeled myself Gay. I tried Straight for very long time. That didn’t work. I tried Bi for a short time. God that didn’t work. Do you want to know how to empty the seats on either side of you when you’re sitting in a bar Straight or Gay? Tell everyone you’re Bi. Wham! Seats magically become free. Its like you’re wearing Strontium 87 around your neck.
Ironically, a recent twist on the Bi thing is my Mother’s reaction to my surprise announcement. She told my Brother that she doesn’t really think I’m Gay, I’m just going that way now because there aren’t any women out there for me. That’s right, I’ve gone through the rotation and now I’ve been traded to the other team. In an early season trade, a young left hander, is coming over to the Straights in an even swap. The Gays are going to try me out for a while, but I need to be careful, or I’ll be sent down to the farm team. (The showers aren’t as nice there.) If things really work out however, when I get back into shape, the Straights have a waiver to call me back.
So why the label Gay? I guess I’ll have to keep exploring that here occasionally.
Filed under: Come again?
Scene: John (age 13) and Mark (age 50) walking along Garden Street in Cambridge, MA, early Sunday morning. Mark notices a banner in front of Christ Church (the first church meeting house built in Cambridge)
Mark: Oh wow, I forgot today is Palm Sunday
John: Palm Sunday, what’s Palm Sunday?
Mark: You don’t know what Palm Sunday is?
John: Quickly stares at Mark like he is peering over a pair imaginary eyeglasses
Mark: It’s a Christian holiday that falls on the Sunday before Easter. Its supposed to celebrate the day that Jesus made his public entry into Jerusalem, before Good Friday and Easter.
John: So why Palm Sunday?
Mark: Well they say as he entered Jerusalem he was met by a large crowd of followers and they honored him by holding up Palm fronds to greet him.
John: (long pause) What, no confetti?
Filed under: verse
white flakes
on a jet black coat
a green glove
sits patiently atop
a bush
looking like a lamb
upon the altar
a viking takes the stairs
at the harvard t,
stops
at the top
and asks for change
asian girls
in bad high heels
maintain their momentum
a waspy boy wanting love
gnaws his nail
like
it is
a
salty
pork bone
a short man
on a tall ladder
watches basketball
on tv
i went out looking
for james dean today
but his ghost was no where
i am lucky
time never stops.
that first big mall i visited,
where I saw that book that made me think,
but I could not tell
him in the car after.
where the tuxedos of bright white waited for my prom,
the first place where shoes were bought
for a wedding,
not the last.
the last place where I saw my father alive,
the first place I landed,
after he died,
on a beautiful spring day,
that seemed undeserved.
I hate you.
Filed under: Layers
Today was as shocking day for me. A scaffolding fell from a construction site at Emerson, three people were killed, two construction workers and a person in a car just passing by at the wrong moment. I was shocked, not by the event, by my reaction. I can’t say I felt much. I went out to the scene moments after the accident. I could see the car that was crushed. It was almost flat. I knew that no one could have survived that. I looked for a moment, decided I could not help, the police were arriving, so I returned to work.
Almost immediately I received a call from my ex-wife. She was calling to check on me, she was worried that I might have been hurt in the accident. I could tell from her voice she was relieved to hear my voice. I was shocked by her reaction.
Tonight I was doing my laundry and I noticed that somehow I got bleach on my favorite blue silk shirt. It was ruined. I got so angry, so demonstrative. I over reacted. Then I realized I had stronger feelings for the shirt than I did for those poor people that died today. I was shocked by my reaction.
A few minutes ago, I read Arthur’s latest blog entry. I was really shocked. It tells how he finds out about the passing of Trevor’s Grandfather, and also a harrowing story about taking his own Grandmother to the ER. Both of these things happened in the same day. I was truly moved. I stood by Trevor today and didn’t know. I respect him professionally, he can be so stoic and strong, maybe too much so. I wish I could have hugged him today. Arthur’s story about his Grandmother, revealed the strength and depth of love he has for his family. I could feel his panic. I could feel his pain. I’m glad I read the story, I needed to cry. I probably should have cried earlier in the day.
