Categories
Alcoholics Anonymous Gay

Yikes

I love this picture.  Francis Bacon and Lucien Freud in Wheelers.

1.

Waking up at Robby’s apartment.  West Hollywood.  Feeling like I have a hangover.  I haven’t.  I’m still not drinking.  Waiting for the right moment…but it never comes.  The sanctity of sobriety.

It’s hard after nearly 16 years to think about the right time to start drinking.

A woman I know from the programme called yesterday.  I told her that I had renounced AA.  “How’s that working out for you?”  She pried condescendingly.

I faked a dropped call.

2.

Saturday pre pride party.  Good fun.  The über gays.  The fake NYC producer I mentioned in an earlier post sitting at his table wondering how I manage to surround myself with such beauty.  He looked exasperated.  Staring over at us.

Pride was a great deal of fun.  On the streets.  The floats have not changed for 30 years: muscle boys and drag queens.  Not very inventive.

I stayed at the London Hotel courtesy of my Kuwaiti friends. They pitched up at 8am.  We ate smoked fish and Quiche for breakfast.

3.

Nothing is obvious.  Just when you thought you’d never kiss anyone meaningfully ever again.

I saw you in the bar and knew you were the one.  A brief conversation.  Kisses, glances, then you pissed on me.  That was new to both of us but so damned exciting.  A mouth full of piss.  Then we spent the afternoon talking.  Eating.  Each other.

You left an impression.   Creases in the bed sheets.

4.

Without me even noticing it LA is full of gay men with beards.

Does this mean that they/we are growing up? That men are trumping boys? The aesthetic is not only very pleasing but means I get looked at all over again. I have some currency…if you know what I mean.

5.

I don’t have time to write this very often.  There’s a great deal to do.

I’m helping those boys in the jail, even though they don’t know it.  Meeting lawyers down town who are investigating conditions in the jail.  They seem shocked.  Young lawyers.  Fresh faced.  Idealists.

I try balancing my complaints with a broader understanding of the jail dynamic.  The deputies are not just cruel…they are frightened.  They do not treat the trans population with contempt because they hate gays, they are confused by the feelings the girls bring up in them.

Ernest lawyers ask how I would change things in the jail.  I am always prepared for those questions.

Last week I sat with Senator Ron S.Calderon who is co-sponsoring a bill in the State of California that would basically abolish the situation in which I found myself.  Protocols would have to be adhered to.  States right to decide trumping the draconian Immigration Department.

I drive for hours to get to the meeting and speak clearly and concisely.  I know that I am speaking on behalf of thousands of wrongly incarcerated immigrants.

I go to cities I would never usually visit.  I am introduced to people I would never usually meet.  Immigrant rights advocates, Methodist ministers.  I am familiar with Secure Communities.  I hear terrible stories.  They tell me that ICE operate like the Gestapo.  They spread fear in the immigrant communities, wrecking homes, lives, marriages, separating families, sending children into foster care.

6.

Then, there is the other work.  Kevin, my incredible new assistant, and I…running all over town.  Putting this show together.  Holding things together.

Today I see the doctor.  No good news all over again. I’m sure.

Wish me luck.

Categories
Rant

The Transit of Venus

The Transit of Venus

A black spec traverses the sun..not to be seen again until 2117. I will be long dead, long forgotten.

Yesterday, I sat with the producer of the Italian film and made my pitch. Novel good. Script…wanting.

An admirer sent a Balenciaga dog collar for the recovering Little Dog. It is a little too big but he doesn’t seem to mind.

The swelling has gone in his leg. He has a red rash all over his swollen belly and chest. The bite marks on his paw remind me that a big rattle snake and the Little Dog came face to face.

Robby is in San Francisco with Lance.

Having an assistant forces me to be more industrious. He takes notes, emails…arranges appointments and reminds me where I am meant to be and when.

I spend less time looking at the phone and more time focused on my dream.

We travel in an elevator with Casey and Ben Affleck. We sit with Salim Akil and discuss his film…Sparkle.

We go to a screening of Prometheus on the Fox lot. The film doesn’t make any sense. The rambling musings of an elderly man unconvinced by humanity.

A crazy bloke from Whitstable reminds me why I have no reason to be there. He is trapped, I am not.

I meet with a production company to discuss a comedy show idea. TV, they say, it’s the way forward.

We drive downtown to pick up my passport, we eat in the car. We drink coffee and meet friends. The sun is shining. I stop in to see Jennie at the ACLU and we talk about lentil soup.

I speak with the detective about my lap top. It sickens me. I say, “Are your family proud of the work you do?”

Dinner at home then crash at 11pm.

I have promised a young man that I will wait for him…so I will.

I am convinced that (like Venus) I have a short moment in the sun, before I am plunged back into darkness.

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Categories
Uncategorized

Some People…

…think that artists are nice people who gratefully sit around making work in a peaceable way.  That we do not confront life and all of its various struggles.  That we spend hours picking the wings off of dead butterflies in bucolic settings.

Bullshit.

Art is all about struggle.  The struggle to understand.  The struggle to be seen.  To be heard.

You know, don’t you, that I’ve been banging on about this film I want to make (if I do or not is another matter) but those who read it are unimpressed by the ending.  They call it a suicide note.

The ending isn’t very good.  It’s melodramatic and unconvincing.  It needs rewriting.

Life and art.  Art and life.  The two mingling, revealing…the truth.

The story evolves.

People are not what you think.  They make choices that reveal so much more than they ever intended.

Some people cast characters in their life like they are directing their own reality TV show.

You know, I’m not a very nice person and that is obvious to many…but, as they said after the John Edwards trial, nasty people are not sent to prison for being nasty…it is not enough that you don’t like me.

Whilst they could blame me for his problems they conveniently forgot him and his glaring defects.

Who are you?

I have always been fascinated by the grotesque.

The little dog stayed over night at the vet.  Rattle snake bite.  His paw and front leg swollen to twice, three times the size.   It’s touch and go if he’ll survive.

Since they let me out of the jail we have been distant.   It’s just the way it is.  Yesterday I pressed my forehead against his and told him not to die…we have other adventures ahead of us.

Categories
Fashion

Tempus Fugit

You must have worked out by now…gay men have tempestuous relationships.

It’s not unusual.

What they did, the feelings they had…they weren’t unusual.

Gay men get restraining orders. Beat each other up. Gay men resent…themselves.

He had lunch with a friend from NYC who knows your lover/husband/partner.

He said…what a warm character he is, that he’s friendly and brave. Courageous and resourceful…has a great future ahead of him.

Anyone who gets up in the morning and wears what he wears, well…he wants to be seen in a world where most people crave invisibility.

He saw the video. A big man with style.

As for you two? He thinks you’re silly for not wanting to forgive the stupidity, forget the battles.

You are, without doubt, indelibly linked.

You two beautiful men pressed together (as you intended) didn’t make him jealous. He felt like you had given him a clue.

He ignored the angry songs…

Seeing you with your new love gave him a clue as to what you might have been attracted to when you contacted him that dark winter.

You see, he could never understand what you saw in him. It was a mystery. He just felt like an old, fraudulent freak when you were together. Over dressed, too loud, too confident….lagging behind like an Indian wife.

Now he understands.

Now, wearing your own cool clothes for all to see…you look pretty damn good…he began to understand.

Do you understand? Understand what went down between you both a little better? Now you’ve been in the world as a gay man these past two years…or do you still feel like he took advantage of you?

I don’t know if you have any good memories of your time together. Are there any? All bound up with lies and recrimination and your coming out.

You both dropped a huge bomb on everybody around you. Nobody escaped unharmed. Both in denial. Both fragile. Both afraid.

Ever since you published your blog…well, he has been in awe. Impressed by your openness.

I’m sure that you don’t give him much thought nowadays. You must have heard what happened…there was so much fanfare about it all.

He had a long time in jail to think everything over.

A long time in terrible circumstances imagining that look of delight on your face…and he wouldn’t blame you. He would’ve been just as happy.

I don’t know if he/you will ever truly recover from what you went through.

There were many times when all he wished was that things between you hadn’t ended so badly so he could tell you what happened. Describe it in detail…because he knew you’d be fascinated.

He knows that for so much of your life you hid your creativity and your desire for beautiful things just in case this betrayed your true nature. He can’t imagine how that must have felt.

Seeing you emerge from that closet into the man you are today gives him great pleasure.

He wishes you all the best in your relationship and your life.