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Tuesday, September 22nd, 1992. I just broke up with a lover
of six months two days ago. How am I doing ? I think I'm fine.
I like the word Queer. I love to use it in describing
myself. Sometimes I use fag instead, it's nice too, but I really
like Queer. Someday the shock value might wear off and I could
have to resort to faggot, but I'll be patient about that. I woke
up at 6AM, enjoyed a wonderful morning piss, and went directly to
my livingroom. I logged into my gay BBS while my PS/2 was booting
up. Disk based operating systems are so slow to boot, do I have a
drive here? Where is my drive? Try this one, try that one, panic
every time you turn them on. My BBS runs on an Atari ST, you think
it is a toy computer. The memory is one big seamless chunk. The OS
is in ROM. Five new users, seven Emails, by the time I am done the
PS/2 is at C: >.
I run Procomm on the PS/2, V.32 to HTG BBS, must be the best
gay board on Earth. A modest crop of new messages, a warm and
friendly Email from a friend who knows of my recent turmoil, he
insists I should read this book. Now off to ASI in San Jose,
not much new at all, but I was on there at 11 last night. It's
a single line BBS like mine. Far too few users, but it's not a
cruise board, so many guys just want to get laid. Time to hit the
showers. By 7:30 I am out the door. I've got a call in Ukiah
California, never been there before. The logical route is straight
up 101, right through The City, my ETA is 11 AM. I'll make it
because I always do. If I'm not the best I'm a serious contender.
I'm queer too. Jean-Michel Jarre on the tape deck. Dancing in my
seat.
The City needs a few more freeways I think. It feels stupid
to drive up Van Ness street in San Francisco just to get to a bridge.
I'm fairly sure I have never been on the Golden Gate bridge before.
In 1967, during my Hippie Weirdo Commie Pinko Peacenik Fag phase I
entered the city from Oakland, across the Bay Bridge, seven days to
hitchike from Pennsylvania. But I digress. When you get old things
just run through your mind when they want to. It happened when I
was young too, but now I'm used to it. I knew I wanted to bear left
at a light on Van Ness where my ex-lover and I used to get right,
and go straight (literally only) to get to Fishermans Wharf. There
will be signs. I can read. We went to Fishermans Wharf three times
together. Once with my older son, once with my younger son, and once
with his sister on our last day together.
It may be a long time until I can drive in The City without
thinking of him. I'll survive, I always do. He was a nice guy, well
I'm sure he still is. The fog is still hovering over The City. It
is appropriate. I let the anxious young Porsche pass me on the
bridge. Cutie alert. We used to say that to each other. I'm too
strong to miss him. Thank God I'm strong, and thanks for making me
queer too!
Marin County. Someday I'll say it correctly and people will
not have to correct me every time. Rich people huh ? I hope they
like the traffic. I seem to always be on the side of the road that
is still moving. They commute to Sunnyvale, I live there, dumb luck
on my part. I didn't know when I moved. I miss him.
I have no idea what 101 is like up here, no concept of how
long this trip will take, unknown, fun, will I see that hitchiker ?
I had this fantasy the night before. It was on the way home from
the Quayle bashing party at Shouts, the Murphy Brown, Big Screen TV,
discount beers party. The one where I laughed so loud, Donald
pointed it out, I was laughing louder than anyone there. Maybe I
just needed a release, maybe I hate Republicans with a passion.
It was fun. They asked me to hate them, they begged me to hate them,
they bashed me in front of one hundred fifty million people. It's OK
though. They will lose and I will win. I have a family. I have
values. I'm queer. In the fantasy I met a hitchhiker. He needed
help from me, no idea what it was, I helped him.
There are a lot of miles between Sunnyvale and Ukiah. I was
only fifteen minutes early, I love being early, it goes with being
intense. My contact was on vacation of course, but this guy named
Terry was there. He showed me the telephone room. I found the
circuit. The Data Station Termination Unit was there, but a wire
from it went to a punchdown block of in-house pairs. The demarc was
somewhere else in the store and Terry had no idea where. I called
the calling party in Chicago. He said to look under the register in
the front of the store. Bingo!
It was a four wire leased line to Napa California. They
must have a multiplexer there to get to Chicago. I listened to the
pairs and found the transmit and receive, hooked up the modem,
called Chicago. Terry was talking to me the whole time, a really
friendly guy. He mentions his girlfriends daughter and her
Significant Other, he used that term. He was telling me that his
girlfriends daughter was a Lesbian I felt sure. How could he tell I
would care ? Neat guy this Terry. I started to really like him.
He mentioned Dan Quayle and that was all it took.
"Did you see Murphy Brown last night ?"
"Steve, I haven't had a TV for two years"
"Wow! Good for you! Well they sliced and diced Mr. Quayle pretty
well"
"Good"
"You know, I'm one of the people that the Republicans hate, and
I want them to know one thing... It's mutual"
I love to Come Out to customers in a subtle way like that.
It is so much fun. Then I get to watch their reactions, see how
long it takes to click, and then I know what sort of a person I'm
dealing with. Terry is very sharp, cool too, but not gay. He does
what he can with what he was given, I guess. It was a great call.
I called dispatch and Michelle answered.
"Was it a nice drive?"
"Yeah, it was nice, four cassettes."
"Did you bring your camera ?"
"No, I had my hands full, and no film anyway"
"Steve, are you OK ?"
"I'm fine Michelle, really, don't worry about me. I was the one
that ended it, you know"
"OK, well, you're a nice guy, and I worry about you"
Michelle is such a sweetheart. I'm out to her and Rachel
and Cindy and Rose and Barbara and Beth and Shannon too. Funny,
they treat me so well. People would kill for my job.
One hundred fifty miles to go. I put my pager on vibrate
because I know damn well I'll never hear it over the stereo. More
Jean-Michel Jarre, I'm addicted. I make it all the way to The City
before I'm startled half out of my seat, the thing vibrates very
well. It's a new pager, I'm not used to it yet. It's my boss
in LA, some problem with a timesheet, yes Joel, five and a half
hours overtime, it was 10:30 when I got home. I did not tell him
I had not really gone home at all, I had gone from the airport
straight to his house. Another story, I already wrote it, old
business.
Home again, got to pay my phone bills, they are gonna cut me
off, ugh. I hate paper. I call Pac*Bell and swear I am mailing the
check. When I pulled up out front I had seen it again, the stupid
little one use camera that was playing hide and seek with me since
June. Pictures from Hawaii, pictures from the parade, pictures of
The Closet Door. I pounced on it! How did it manage to appear on
the front floor of my van ? Where has it been ? Under the seat ?
I decided it was an omen. I must develop it tonight. It needed
me and I needed it. The boxer shorts on my head. He told me to
wear them. I miss him.
The plan is to go to the Post Office, mail the stupid paper,
then go to Sunnyvale Town Center and get the camera developed. I
know it's important. I can go to Monkey Wards, there was something
on sale, I need to treat myself.
A long time ago, in what seems like a previous life, this
lady psychologist told me that whenever I was feeling sorry for
myself I should go to a store and buy something for myself. At the
time I thought underwear was erotic, certain types, I still do.
I can hardly shut my underwear drawer. I have a pair of green
flowered boxer shorts I wore on my head at the parade. He told me
to. They are in the camera, so is Donald, Donald is my best gay
friend. This other friend told me to buy a book and read it. The
book is called "The Male Couple". I respect his advice. I solicit
it. He knows about what happened last weekend.
I only wore my best gay shirt a few hours. To the Quayle
bashing party last night. It's still clean. I put it on with the
tight jeans I bought to wear with him. Post Office, then Sunnyvale
Town Center. I found the one hour photo on the way to Monkey Wards.
The kid on the counter seemed gay. Potential for a bit of fun, I
hope they look.
A new line of boxer shorts at Monkey Wards, I buy two. A belt
to replace the one I left at his house. I wonder if he threw away my
toothbrush and my razor yet. I had my own spot in his medicine
cabinet. I pass on the waterbed sheet sets, not manly. Some dress
shirts on sale, one that will look good with sneakers and a tie,
thirty three percent off. The relationship costs me fourty two
dollars and seventy two cents. Some Arab guy can't handle my gay
shirt, he has to avert his eyes quickly. Poor slob, maybe he'll
learn. Some people just are, queer I mean, some are, I'm one and
I'm not in a closet. I miss him.
Off to Chick-Fil-A. High school boy on the counter. Nervous
about my shirt, but polite. I think he has unresolved issues. Hope
he can learn to be bold. What a horrible sandwich, they were good
twenty years ago in Pennsylvania. My ex-wife loved them. She loved
me too, she saw I was kind. We tried.
Off to Waldenbooks to look for "The Male Couple". I do not
find it so I go to the front desk. The guy refuses to be shocked by
my shirt, cool. I order the book, one week. If I can just hold off
falling in love again that long.
It's 7:15, my pictures should be ready, back to one hour
photo with the cutie on the counter. Hard to get a rise out of him.
"May I pay you with a check?"
"Certainly"
"If you don't mind I'd like to look at these first. I might want
to make some enlargements"
"Sure. Take your time."
The ones from my hotel room in Hawaii are atrocious. A few
of my son Ethan are OK. But there are two pictures that are
exceptional - from the parade. One of me with my arm around Donald,
my friend Donald who always has time for me, the architect of The
Closet Door, the first gay friend I made in California, my very dear
friend. One of the door itself. May I digress please ?
In June of this year I went to my first Gay Pride parade in
The City. I went with Donald. I helped to operate The Closet Door.
It was the most liberating experience of my long, exciting life.
I created a gay bulletin board and named it The Closet Door. It
made me over completely. And here it was, a picture of the actual
physical door as it once was, when it existed, before we threw it
away. An absolute treasure to me. The gay seeming clerk helped me
load the negative into their fifty thousand dollar machine from
Kodak. He was either queer or friendly. I cropped it just so,
and I made a pair of 8x10s, one of Donald and I, and one of the door.
I don't miss him anymore.
I rushed home in accordance with local speed limits. Of
course I had to check my gay BBS for Email. Nothing much, one new
user. I called him and welcomed him out of, yet into The Closet
Door. I tried to call Donald but his line was busy, prolly his
roommate on HTG. I called ASI and I had Email from this high school
student who was Coming Out to himself, getting ready for the world.
This young man really has it together, he needs very little help.
I told him again to call the Billy DeFrank Center and get into the
youth group. This kid is going to be really fine. I hope he is
careful. Lots of messages on ASI tonight, good messages, I have to
reply. I bash Quayle in public a few more times, it feels good.
I walk right in to HTG on the first try. V.32 @ 9600 with
V.42 as well. Not much new. I tell my friend that I ordered the
book. I tell him to be at Gay Bingo tommorrow night. I logoff.
Donald's line is not busy, his roommate answers. He tries to tell
me I should give it another try with my ex. He's being nice and more
friendly than ever. He does not know I'm a Taurus. Donald comes on
the line.
"Hi honey, you've got to see my new treasure"
"You have a new boyfriend already?"
"Ha ha, cut it out, no, I'm holding something in my hands"
"A new story?"
"No sir, it is a visual thing, not text'"
"A picture of yourself naked ?"
"Ugh! NO! but it is a picture, and we are both in it."
"You found that camera?"
"YES! and I have a picture of the Door and one of us."
"Oh great. I'll have to see them"
"And if you want a copy I'll get them made for you"
"Wonderful"
I hang up with Donald but I have energy left. I decide to
write. For some stupid reason I decide to write a story about a day
in the life of a queer. It takes me until after midnight, I'm tired,
I want to stop. I stop.
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