Month: May 2012

Categories
Gay

10 Affectations

1.  Phil bought me a string of Baroque pearls for my 26th birthday.  They vanished.  As Coco Chanel lay dying on the Rue Cambon in 1971, her friends stole the jewelery she was wearing from her fingers and from around her neck.  The same happened to Barbara Hutton the Woolworth heiress.

2. What does it feel like when one assumes that someone they loved is dead and gone and then they reappear?  What changes, adjustments have to me made?  When one has already grieved.  The shock of the living far outweighs the shock of the dead.

3.  I did not sleep last night.   The demons were upon me.  Yet, I would describe myself as happy.

4.  I wear dark glasses.  I am reading the Martin Kippenberger biography.

5. It is so cold at night I fear the succulents will die.

6.  I found the Lanvin straw hat I bought in Paris.  It was crushed in the back of the car.  I took the remnants and had them framed.

7.  I am optimistic.

8.  Stringing together the visual DNA on my blog.  I find myself abruptly halted.  How can one leap from a formal portrait of a disgraced Duchess to snowy Stonehenge?  What is the connection?  Either the Duchess goes or I’m stuck.

9. The final act of my film needs rewriting.  Truth is stranger than fiction.

10.  Not sleeping has a powerful effect on my libido.  I have unwanted erections.

 

 

 

Categories
Uncategorized

Unspeakably Cruel

Still preoccupied with Tumblr.

It’s such a marvelous tool.  An archeological dig through ones own history of ideas.

Everything is there on the internet.  Nothing is hidden from me.  Then, they come…liking and reblogging and commenting.

They like the most unusual things.  Like the picture of Marilyn Manson.

Yesterday, I hired an assistant.  Had a long chat with Robby.  Dealt with my tax bill.  Spoke to my wonderful lawyers at the ACLU.  Cooked dinner.  Watched Jennifer cut up a wheel of cheese.  Spent hours looking for a certain picture.

Then, I lay in my bed wondering when I will see that boy up North who wants me to take what ever I want from him.

I’m waiting for you, he says.

I look at pictures of him.  I imagine what it would be like to find another to fuck him.  To watch him suck someone else.

He wants me to be unspeakably hard on him.  And, I shall.

Tell me, I like it when you tell me what to do…he murmurs.  Control me.  Take me.  Love me.

He is waiting.

Categories
Love

Tumblr

I am obsessed with my Tumblr account.

Sitting with 12 year old Hannah learning how to do it properly.

Sitting up all night searching for images, videos, quotes from a long life.

Constructing a narrative where all events harmonize.   Where color and texture blend from one image to another.  Telling public and private stories simultaneously.

As for the rest?  My other life?

I had tea with a producer on Friday ostensibly to talk about my new film…then unexpectedly he asked me to read a script which they are looking for a director.

It arrived immediately and it is beautiful.  It will take me to Europe for a year.  To Italy.

I drove back up the 10…happy, joyous and free.  Perhaps the hell of the last two years is truly coming to an end?

Dinner in Venice, then bumped into my ‘friend with benefits’.  He said, although drunk, that he was embarrassed to introduce me to his friends because I am so much older.  I told him that was like me being embarrassed by his being a jew or gay…I walked away.  He’s a kid.  What do I expect?

He needs to learn to own his own life.

Today it’s lunch on the beach with British friends then tomorrow a magazine editor friend of mine from NYC is here.

I explained to Robby why I was feeling so optimistic, hours before the script was mentioned.  Looking out over LA from the 13th floor.

I explained why seeing the man I once loved in love was so reassuring.

To be excluded from the life of one for whom I had been so instrumental…had driven me insane.

The emotional investment in another, even when that relationship changes into something else…well…one is always looking to recoup.

The dividend…was to see him happy.  I saw irrefutable evidence that all our hard and painful, beautiful and passionate time together…was worth it.

I don’t need, nor do I deserve to have the enduring love of another to make me happy…all I needed to know was that he, he who I love…was loved.

It is very simple to me…though confusing for most.

My ‘failed relationship’ has meaning now.  A context.

During the past two years I have written so often about finding peace.  Peace and understanding.  This is it!  I announced grandly…this is the peace I have been searching for!  Well, I was wrong.

It was merely an illusion.  A false hope.  The glaring eyes of many storms…a momentary peace…which I mistakenly assumed would last.  The 100 foot waves continued to break over the bow and I was lost again.

Seeing those two men pressed together, harmonious, happy…well…who couldn’t want for them what I was never able to achieve?

I know what you think…that I deserve what I get, that I am not very nice, that I have been very cruel.  Well, it’s true.  I have been cruel and mean but I don’t think it was anything other than necessary for us to go through what we went through.

The only people, as I have written before who are deserving of my apology…are his parents and sister who I demanded into our violent storm, who I insulted and maligned.

For that I am truly sorry.

I have no idea, ultimately, if he intended for me specifically to see those things but he must have known.  Wether he intended to try making me jealous..well..that’s another consideration and we’ll leave it at that.

What I have learned these past few years is that (in a quieter less public way) so many men and women are tortured by love…in and out of love.  Choosing inappropriate partners, chasing hopeless dreams.

Sadly, there is no cure for curiosity.

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Auto Biography

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Categories
Travel

Apricot Lane Farm

Today we were the guests of Molly and John Chester at Apricot Lane Farm, Moorpark CA.

Molly is a former personal chef and John a former film director.

Now, tucked away in their bucolic idyl, away from the madding crowd, devoted to the creation of a bio-dynamic 150 acre farm set in rolling countryside 45 minutes from Santa Monica.

The property was originally owned by a ‘gentleman farmer‘ so the house and formal gardens surrounding the house are spectacular in a Gertrude Jekyll kind of way.

We toured the property then sat in an etruscan tower over looking the freshly planted orchards.

Perfect way to spend an afternoon.

 

Categories
Fashion Gay Love

Your Life Now

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New York. May 2012

There you are. Finally. For all to see.  Like bumping into you in the street. That’s how it felt.  But you were where we met…virtually…on the internet.

Peony, the rain, the winsome songs.

If we had bumped into each other in the street, I think I would have felt the same. I left the page with a sweet smile on my face. I felt proud of you. I know how exciting life must be for you.  And if I had bumped into you in the street and you had told me that you were in love…inevitably you wanted me to know that you were in love and inevitably I crumbled.

I am indeed that cliché you despised so badly. 😉

I called Robby and he listened. I called Joan and we looked into your life and we all agreed that it was swell.

So…

The end of the film needs rewriting.  All the world can see your love. Ironic huh? Now you know how I felt when I wanted to publicly celebrate what we once had, when I wrote about us.

There you are, together…pressed together. In love.  You looked great. Your hair well cut, your pants the right length.  Your boy friend looks extraordinary and familiar. Celine is a great brand.  I know you didn’t put that Tumblr page up for me but you knew I would see it. You knew I’d have an opinion.

It was a perfect way to let me know.

If we hadn’t ended things so badly and we’d met in the street…I would have hugged you. I would have thanked you. I would have smiled gently. I may have shed a tear.  I loved you very much…you know that. But, we knew what we had was fleeting…needed to happen for you to set yourself free, free for this relationship that you celebrate so publicly today.

The metamorphosis is complete and you have emerged fully into the world…a beautiful young man capable of great love and glamor…and your underwear was chic as all hell.

I know that you will make something amazing one day…something I would have never guessed.  A film or a book or a room or a garden. You are capable of all those things.

Of course I still love you. But not like that.  This is all I ever wanted, to know you are happy and to share your happiness

By publishing your life so publicly I am relieved…even though I cried, I cried because you were there on the street telling me what I needed to know.

That you are happy and in love and…of course…beautifully dressed.

PS I bought the book.

Categories
Gay Rant

Andy Gipson Kills Gays for Jesus

Dear Andy Gipson Mississippi state Rep. (R),

Apparently, on Facebook recently, you posted a note advocating the murder, slaughter, deaths of homosexuals after (black) President Obama had some personal feelings about gay marriage.

Well, I wholeheartedly support your ‘put homosexuals to death’ position…you know…kill a gay for Jesus. Yay. You’ve got my support.

However, I support you on one condition. You can kill any one of us..as long as you can look us in the eye and kill us with your bare hands. Your hands around our throats. For Jesus.

You know, like vegetarians who urge carnivores to try killing their own meat before they eat another burger.

I mean, it’s one thing to say something terrible like that Andy but it’s another doing it…isn’t it?

I’ve posted some pictures of some gay people and their friends below for you to imagine shooting or gassing.

I saw you with your kids. You’re obviously a good dad. I mean…apart from wanting to commit genocide.

Have you seen pictures of the gestapo on their days off? Holding their kids in their arms?

I noticed too that you dress your kids in army uniforms. Are you training them to kill gays?

I was in a pub once called the Admiral Duncan in London that was bombed by a man like you who wanted to kill gays. He killed as many heterosexuals as he killed homosexuals. He went to prison for a very long time.

Will it make you happy or sad when you squeeze the life out of your first gay?

Andy!!! God forbid! Have you ever thought your children might be homosexual? What will you do when your children want to come out? When your children ‘come out’ will you enjoy killing them?

How will you feel? Taking their lives for Jesus? I thought you people were pro-life?

Apparently, at the concentration camps in Germany (during the last great state sanctioned homocleansing) where large numbers of gays and lesbians were murdered…the guards tortured us before butchering us.

Could you imagine doing that?

Do you ever have thoughts like that?

How exactly do you want to kill us? I mean, there are millions of us…in God’s great plan…he sure fucked things up.

Disposing of all that gay meat and bones may very well increase the deficit you despise so much.

I’ve given your problem of eradicating us gays a great deal of thought.

It occurs to a simple-minded man like me that however many of us you kill we will return.

Every generation you straight people manage to make more gay people.

If, for instance, you could determine when we were fetus that we might be gay…would you offer free abortions to women…NOOOO!!!! No abortions. Nothing FREE!!! The deficit!!

OH…yes…we’re probably evidence of the devil’s work? Is that right? But, I can eat garlic and sprinkle holy water on my forehead without turning to dust or the water burning my skin.

I must admit that I’ve thought about murdering some of my exes and if you could start…when the day comes…and you get permission to murder us…can you murder my ex first? I mean, before me. So I can see it happen maybe? Then you can turn the gun on me.

Have you ever considered just murdering gay people for fun? You seem like you might enjoy it.

Thank God Jesus has people like you to help him at difficult times like this.

I thought ‘thou shalt not kill‘ was a commandment but you people seem to make this bible stuff up as you go along.

Do you think you could help me go straight, stop hankering after a mouthful of cock?

I may renounce my gayness and come join your congregation. Come and live at your house. Ex gay. I’m too old to be gay anyway.

No. I’m not doing that. I’m a butt fucking gay. Too old to be ashamed of who I am. Too old.

I live in California. If you are ever here and feel like killing me for being gay…or any other reason…just let me know.

Facebook me.

And just in case you didn’t think it could get any worse:

The charming words of Charlie Worley, another gay killing pastor.

 

Categories
Gay Love

Red Medicine

Woke up early. Wanted to get the daub onto the stove. It’d been marinating all night.

Then, something about the process, the action of stirring the pot, as it began to simmer…broke something in me. Like I was having a rare moment of clarity, sanity…and I felt a terrible guilt for the way I had treated…not him…but his parents…drawing them into our drama. Collateral damage.

I wanted to write to them and tell them how sorry I was.

They were innocent.

Then I found that Avadon picture of Ginsberg and his long-term lover Orlovsky. And I thought about them ‘long-term’ and what they were thinking, or not thinking when they kissed for the camera.

I thought about the way they, we…I…describe what we have as long term.

Long term insists that we take what they had seriously. Ginsberg had not just met some man on the street and taken him into the studio. He had made some sort of commitment. Long term.

And I thought that marriage would be just that…long term. That our beards would grow long together. That I would never ever tire of looking at you. Kissing you.

Then I remember that I am here in LA. You send me a picture of Washington Square. It’s all I need right now. A picture.

The whole house smells of beef in red wine, fresh herbs, fresh garlic.

I had lunch with Robby on Monday. We ate a lamb burger at Gjelina. I drank ginger and mint italian soda.

He has been having a wonderful time. Earning masses of cash, loving his man and roaming with his homies. Yes, I wrote that.

On Wednesday I met a friend for lunch, a lunch that didn’t end until 3am. He is 23, he lied about his age. He told me he was older. A masculine dilettante.

We had lunch in Venice, tea in Beverly Hills, an odd party at The Sunset Tower (gays and girls), then dinner at Red Medicine on Wilshire.

Have you heard of Red Medicine? It’s that restaurant, Jordan Kahn’s place…that everyone is talking about.

We ordered far too much. Each baffling plate arrived covered in flowers or Dadaist condiment.

We ate: DUNGENESS CRAB / passion fruit, brown butter, black garlic, Vietnamese crepe, hearts of palm $32

We ate: HEIRLOOM RICE PORRIDGE / egg yolk, hazelnuts, ginseng, echire butter $17 and added Santa Barbara uni for a further $20.

We ate: BEEF TARTARE / water lettuce, water chestnut, nuoc leo, chlorophyll, peanut $15

We ate: AMBERJACK / red seaweed, buttermilk, lotus root, tapioca, succulents $16

Then, after dinner, we lay in the back of his SUV by the beach and kissed each other until my face was raw, my heart was racing, my legs were trembling. I was so completely overwhelmed that I could not drive for ne’er a mile before I had to stop and beg a cigarette from a passer-by.

He is beautiful. He gnawed at my neck until I could not bear it any more.

So, that’s what love looks like in a warm climate. For a moment. Not long-term. Not to be taken seriously. Just a moment. I have trained myself not to yearn for more.

So, the daub will cook for four more hours until it is tender. We will eat it with home-made noodles.

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Categories
Uncategorized

Sick Puppy

Lily stayed at home today.

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Categories
Uncategorized

Marriage Equality Redux