Month: August 2013

I’m trying to write everything down but somehow the past few weeks have blurred into one long delicious adventure.

NYC and back again in the car.

Let me remember.

I drove east through death valley and this was the temperature:

I drove through Utah during the day which was very wise.  Utah is very beautiful.  Devastatingly beautiful.

You see.  I can’t find the words.

I stopped in Des Moines and enjoyed the state building and the wonderful contemporary sculpture park given to the community by John and Mary Pappajohn, a Des Moines venture capitalist and his wife.

I met a young hair dresser with blue hair.

I stopped in Chicago and met a huge football player.

I spent the 4th July in Chicago. The Fireworks terrified Dude, my little brown dog.

I arrived in NYC.  Just in time for the horrible heat wave.

It was so hot I had to leave the dogs inside the apartment during the day or risk them dying of heat exhaustion.

I sat uncomfortably in AA meetings.

I stayed on the upper west side.  A block from Central Park.

We walked every day off leash at dawn around the Great Lawn.  We saw beautiful young men exercising.  We, being me and the dogs.

I explored Red Hook and saw a band at Dustin Yellin‘s place called Guerilla Toss.

I met a beautiful man in the street and kissed him.

Why was I there?

I had gone east to reclaim my gayness after months of feeling like an ex-gay.   Hanging onto the word queer as the only way to describe my isolation from the gays.

New York.

I spent my birthday at the cloisters with Richy.

I read from my blog at a Lower East Side gallery and they paid me for doing so.

I met more interesting people on the street.

I helped a friend edit his movie.

Then, unable to stand the searing heat a moment longer, I drove to Sayville taking the first ferry to Fire Island.  The Pines.

I rented a small house on Cedar Walk but didn’t spend any time there at all.

From the moment I arrived I had one extraordinary experience after another.

I met cool people,  and coveted their things.

I was invited into their homes and onto their yachts, I met their friends and ate their food.  I returned their hospitality by paying for them as and when they would let me.

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I walked to Cherry Grove where I had breakfast with John Walters.

I had dinner with Andy Tobias…

… in my favorite Fire Island Pines home.

I met a gang of charming gay men from NYC who were kind and considerate.

I spent time with all of them in the city once I returned.

This one is called Jon.

As I let myself fall into the gay Fire Island days I began to remember how much fun being gay is.  Even if I was sober and a little bit older.

I walked the beach.

I had a huge old man crush on this beautiful boy:

Who worked here:

I saw Justin Bond.

I looked in at the house where we lived for so many years.

And I met more men.

I spent time on my own.  I found an abandoned cock ring on the board walk.

I walked miles of boardwalks with the dogs who came home covered in tiny ticks.

I finally met a beautiful man who left for India but lives in Paris who stole my head/heart.

I was so god damned happy.

The morning after the Pines Party I prepared to leave.

After ten days I took the ferry, then another ferry to Provincetown.

I rented a small apartment on the beach and met more men.

I hung with my friend Benoit Denizet Lewis but the sparkle that used to exist between us has gone.

We explored the graveyard.  We found Norman Mailer’s grave and a pretty headstone with a small dog carved into it.

I ate a great deal but didn’t put on any weight as I walked so many miles every day.

I found this beautiful ceramic mirror frame:

I met more men.

Eventually I drove back to New York and stayed with friends.  This is their view:

I partied with Jeremy Kost…

…and his friend.

I had dinner with Dan at Mary’s Fish Camp.

I had dinner with Thom at my club on the roof by the pool:

I wore this chic watch:

We worked on my film.

Then, after another week in the city I took the car all the way home again.

I met a hitch hiker who travelled all the way to California.  His name is Albert.

I stayed in The Lincoln Hotel in Chicago.

I stayed in Denver.

I stayed in Utah.

We drove from Cedar City to LA in half a day.

We drove up the mountain in Malibu, up the drive and finally slept in our own bed.

It has been misty and cool.