Archives for posts with tag: Tumblr

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.

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.

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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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.