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Here's a picture taken two weeks ago in Long Beach. On both Saturday and Sunday evenings, after a full and tiring day at the track, Mark and I decided to stop at a little coffee house with a nice outdoor garden just across the street from the race track area. I'm always a little slow on the uptake, but Mark noticed that the coffee guy was being extra nice to us, almost flirtatious. It was just about closing time when we got there on Saturday, and sure enough, a few minutes after we sat down outside to enjoy our drinks, in walks Coffee Guy's boyfriend. The boyfriend left before we finished our coffee, so Coffee Guy stopped to talk to us on our way out. He wanted to know if we were local, and were we going out later that night? He was disappointed to find the answer to both questions was no. After we left, Mark chuckled a little because he had let coffee guy go on thinking that we were a couple. When we came back Sunday, with David, Coffee Guy remembered us. Mark went right on letting him think that he and I were together, and that this time we had brought a friend too. He treated us quite well, and even took this picture for us. It's nice to have family wherever you go, even when you're just out with straight buddies posing as queer!
This weekend was my last of a long series of race weekends. If you look through this journal you'll find that I've not had a day off in six weeks. Yes, I did go to Long Beach, and yes, I've been having fun working at the local track every weekend, but it's still work. In fact, it's more demanding and tiring work than the job that pays my bills. The racing work is also a lot of fun, so I'm not looking for sympathy when I say I haven't had a day off in six weeks. I'm looking for understanding. I'm tired. It will be nice to have next weekend off, with nothing scheduled to do.
Following two full days in the sun at the racetrack, I took a quick shower, gathered up my remaining strength, collected my boyfriend, and went to Shawn's (female) house. The ski tour guides were putting on a little party in honor of my birthday. It was definitely fun, and I'm glad I went, but it was a little tough to go. Brent hadn't met many of the guides before, and although they all knew I'm gay, they'd never actually seen me with my guy. It was even tougher on Brent of course. He suffered butterflies as we parked at Shawn's house, but everyone made him feel welcome and he was soon relaxed and enjoying himself. We excused ourselves around 9:00 p.m. when I was overcome with a yawning attack. We were home and tucked into bed before ten.
Tuesday May 2nd, 2000
Sometimes I just hate the way my brain works. I've come to the end of my long block of busy weeks and will have the next few weekends to myself. I should be writing resumes and mailing potential new employers. I've only 16 weeks of paid work left. I haven't lost that much time yet, it's only Tuesday and I have five weeks before my next race commitment, but is my lame brain focusing on finding a new job that I'll love? Nope. My mind is stuck on three things; climbing Mt. Shasta, upgrading my car, and getting myself to the Nepalese Himalayas.
The Himalayas have been on my mind since I was 12 years old. A friend of my father's gave a slide show about his trek around Annapurna. Since that day, I've been determined to get there. Yesterday, one of my climbing partners from my mountaineering school in the Cascades last year, Joe, e-mailed the entire school group to invite anyone interested on a trek up the Khumbu Valley to Everest Base Camp, and a climb of a nearby lesser peak, Imja Tse. This would be a wunnerful thing to do, if only I didn't have the problem of working a new job at the time. The expense is a considerable problem too. Of course, the Himalaya will always be there, but this is my first invitation to climb among the world's highest mountains. It's a temptation difficult to resist.
Upgrading my car could be done in one of three ways. I could make a few modifications to the car I own. I could trade it for a car that is a step up from what I've got and keep making payments, or I could trade it for the car I really want and keep making payments that bigger. They're all kind of silly. I've already got a good safe car that gets me everywhere I need to go. It's a good, fun, driver's car too. I just want more. I want better handling, bigger brakes and tires, more horsepower. I don't really need any of those things and that's why it's silly. I spend week after week at the racetrack watching loads of wonderful sports cars and their owners happily at play and I want to be among them. I keep forgetting that most of the people I work for at the track are *very* rich. They buy $90,000 Ferraris with the same casual excitement that I might buy a cool new $50 computer game. In the world of sports cars, I hang around Jones's I may never be able to keep up with.
Climbing Mt. Shasta is the most realistic of the goals that have invaded my mind in the absence of seven-day workweeks. I got within 2,000 vertical feet of the 14,400 ft. summit last 4th of July. I was solo, and at that altitude a steep, icy chute didn't seem safe to try without company. Last year was only intended to be a reconnaissance of the mountain anyway, but this year I want to get to the top. I'm working with a few friends who might be capable of getting there with me, if I train them a little bit. Scheduling is difficult around more than two people, and the mountain only offers a month long window of what I consider safe climbing between various seasonal hazards. After I have a committed team, organizing the logistics will be a big task too. None of this trip is impossible, but it is time demanding and takes my focus away from the career change that I'm about to do.
I've never been able to make my job a big priority in life. Doesn't that sound hopelessly spoiled? That's why, this time, I'd really like to land a job that I actually care about. For instance, I could really throw myself into a job at a racetrack organizing big races. I would enjoy traveling to places like Mt. Shasta or Nepal and writing about it for magazines and books too. But I'm never going to find a good job like that if I don't get my wandering mind to settle down and get to work.
Wednesday May 3rd, 2000
It's no secret that balance is the key to a happy, worthy life. The balance issue that I've struggled with more than any other is that of time. It is unclear to me how much I should put aside my immediate happiness to invest in future happiness. It works just like a bank, doesn't it? The earlier you invest the more the payoff. The more you invest the more the payoff too. At the same time, there's no assurance that you won't step off the curb and be killed by a bus tonight; then what did all your sacrifice in the here and now get you? There must be a balance between immediate gratification, and sacrifice for the future.
One example of this problem is should I go climbing in Nepal this Fall, or work hard at a new job? Another is should I move to Seattle or stay in Monterey? Both situations balance long-term potential against immediate goals. I'd like a computer program that could map a system of constraints, based on cost/benefit curves, and display the region of maximum return. A numerical model would be a great, objective way to maximize my limited time. Of course, I don't think it would be possible to come up with a model that is both complex and realistic enough to be useful.
I'm a bit frustrated in that I've got no systemic way of making decisions about my future. I feel like I'm blindfolded and trying to throw lawn darts into a circle. I don't know where to throw them and have no way of knowing when I've succeeded. For my birthday, Brent bought me a book by the Dali Lama. The title is 'The Art of Happiness; a Handbook for Living'. I'm hoping that maybe it will help a little. The Dali Lama is, of course, a religious leader. I'm hoping his book steers clear of mumbo-jumbo and concentrates on a practical philosophy. Buddhists are traditionally unconcerned with the symbolic process and rationalism. Since the problem of making life decisions is too complex for the symbolic process to solve, perhaps the Dali Lama will offer an arational method of guiding my decision-making. As long as he doesn't propose using magic and miracles to guide my lawn darts, it should be a worthwhile read.
Friday May 5th, 2000
"We wouldn't have all this if we lived in Georgia", said Brent, his arm making a sweeping gesture across the panorama of sand and stones, wind and waves, sea and sky. It was indeed a spectacular day for a walk along the rocky Pacific Coast. A strong, brisk wind off the cold green water made our windbreakers flutter loudly. The rushing air carried the smell of seaweed and salt. It coated my glasses with a fine mist. A seagull hovered on the wind overhead, dipped a wing, and was hurled downwind toward the lighthouse.
I returned my gaze from the quickly vanishing seagull back to the waves exploding against the rocks. The violent embrace of water and granite repeated itself every few seconds just a little further out than the rock upon which Brent and I chose to embrace. Like the flames of a campfire, the crashing waves drew our eyes in towards them, but sent our focus far away. "Of course we'd still have all this," I said, "it's not going anywhere. Monterey will always be home no matter where we decide to live for a while."
Easy for me to say. I've lived in England, Alabama, and Hawaii at times. After each adventure, I've always come back to the Monterey Peninsula. I intended to leave and come back again. I know that in moving ahead I'm not abdicating my memories. I keep my friends. My home doesn't forsake me, nor does it require my continual occupation.
I zipped up my windbreaker a little further against the chill of the wind, leaned my head into Brent's shoulder. He's lived all 26 years of his life in the same house. It's so much more difficult for him to leave his hometown. He's never done it before. I felt him tighten his grip around my waist. He's afraid of letting go. The open ocean spread before us from just past our feet to the infinite horizon. Brent smiled warmly and pointed out a sea otter playing with an abalone shell only just beyond where the waves rear up ominously, then shatter against solid rock.
For perhaps a minute more, we continued our conversation in experience. Brent didn't tell me, when the time was right, he would join me outside the limits of familiarity. He didn't ask for my support. Neither did I tell him how much I loved him for his courage. Our ears were filled with the roar of the crashing waves. Things so delicate as spoken words would have been carried away, like a seagull, on the buffeting wind. But the love, joy, and understanding that passed between us was more solid than the granite that the violent waves had failed to impress. Then, we got up, and continued our walk along the shore.
Tuesday May 9th, 2000
There are only 120 days or so until my job runs out. I'm starting to feel the pressure of finding new work. After watching the Grand Prix of Spain on Sunday morning, I moved over to my computer to start working on a cover letter and resume to send to a San Francisco radio station. I lost an hour of work to ICQ (but it was fun!) and discovered that making a cover letter and resume just right for a particular job takes a long time. It was five hours later before I was satisfied with just two pages of typing!
I've decided to make my goal be to send out 3 such letters per week. That's 15 hours at the rate I'm going, almost a part-time job itself. It's a good thing I've got very few racing responsibilities for a while. I'd have to cancel them otherwise, just to get on with the job search. I'm continuing to look at writing professionally, but it seems like that option is going to have to be something I do after hours until I'm an established writer. It could take several years of effort before it pays enough to keep a roof over my head.
The job market now is as good as it has been since World War II. Given that, you'd think it would be easy for me to find a day job that interests me. Not much luck so far. I'd love to be involved with running a race track, but, as with any job in motor sport, or entertainment in general, the primary requirement for employment is being a blood relative of someone already in the business. The occasional classified add you might see in entertainment is purely for legal purposes.
I would also enjoy working in the aviation or airline industry. We all know that every male Flight Attendant is as queer as Sparky the Dog, and I'd probably enjoy that job for a little while too, but it wouldn't make a fulfilling career. I'd always be pining for a job in the cockpit flying the aircraft. Being a Flight Attendant might leave significant free time for writing, however. Perhaps that's something I should look at as a fallback position.
I've been looking in the area of Unix computer system administration as a possibility. I've got some skills in the field, but I'm no guru. All the Sysadmin positions I see these days are for aces. I've just never wanted to be that specialized in anything. Oh, dear. Ten years out of school and I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.
Friday May 12th, 2000
Miss me? I missed you guys too. It's been quite a while since I've allowed myself some journaling time. Heck, even Zup has updated more recently than I! (BTW, congratulations on your graduation Andy! WTG!) There's a reason I haven't updated in a week. I just wasn't putting the effort into finding new work that I needed to. I decided to forbid myself any journaling time until at least one job inquiry was in the mail. That forced me to go get some good stationary, figure out how to get my printer to address an envelope, and knock out all the other little obstacles that had prevented my progress for the last two weeks. I did it, and I will be able to keep my goal of three letters a week going. If I get behind, I'll withhold my journal from myself again.
So, what's new in Robland? The same themes continue in the fugue that is my life. The dominant phrase right now is racing, but it should be finding new work. Tuesday night I went with Stuart to the US Auto Race Marshall's board meeting. I got elected secretary and get to write the agenda and keep the minutes from now on. Dr. Laura's worst nightmares are coming true. A significant part of the macho sport of motor racing is going to be controlled by a gay agenda!
Wednesday night Brent came over and I made us grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches with salad for dinner. We enjoyed the sandwiches while watching a program on PBS I've really been enjoying - Michael Palin's Hemmingway Adventure Michael is famous for a comedy show he did thirty years ago. Brent and I agree that for an old guy, he's kinda cute and seems like a really nice person. In the show he gets to travel to all the exciting places that Hemingway went to. The show had so many features that I enjoy, it was sure to be a hit with me!
Last night, Thursday, Brent had a friend from work over to his house for pizza and a scary movie. I don't like scary movies so I figured they could have fun together and I'd go out with a few of my friends. Mark came over about 7:00 and we got on the computer to play a Formula One racing simulation game until Julie was ready to meet us for dinner at the Character's sports bar. It was karaoke night there. I was amazed at the standard of karaoke singing in Monterey! They were all really good. Ready to be paid lounge singers good. Some sang country, some alternative rock, there was one Elvis, and there was a great jazz singer. Needless to say, we decided not to try singing. We were out of our league completely.
There was one waiter there who I was getting all kookoo-for-cocoa-puffs about. He was about 5'10", kinda skinny, light complexioned, clean shaved, and had dark black hair that he kept fairly short and spiky on top. I guessed he was about 25. He wasn't our waiter, sadly, so I didn't get to talk to him. Not that I was planning on trying to pick him up or anything, but it's still fun to meet cute guys. I guess I miss 'the hunt' a little.
After pizza, appetizers, and two beers each, we decided to call it a night at 11:00. Everyone had work the next morning. By then, my hormones were in an uproar and half the guys in the room were looking pretty good to me, so it was definitely time to cool my jets and go home. But, when I opened my apartment door, I heard music playing! Brent had sneaked over to my apartment after his movie to surprise me! (He's got his own key.) He already had the futon out and was reading. Considering the frisky mood I was in, he didn't have to wait very long before he got lucky!
Monday May 15th, 2000
Welcome to today's edition of "My Back Pages", with news and events pouring in from all over the globe. For our first story, we head to far off Nepal, where climbers are trying to realize their dreams on the summit of Chomolungma, the World's Highest Mountain.
Every year, there is a small window of time between the end of April and the last week of May when Mt. Everest, or Chomolungma to the Sherpas, may be safely climbed. The opportunity comes during the short interval after the jet stream, with its 130 mph winds, moves north off the great mountain's summit and before the Summer Monsoon brings heavy snowfall. This year, the winds have not cleared thick snows from the upper mountain, making it almost unclimbable. Today, two Russian climbers are rumored to have made the summit from the north side, Tibet, becoming the first summiters of the Year 2000. Many other climbers will make their summit attempts overnight. The safe window will not be open for more than another week or two. The historical dates for the most success on Everest are May 10th and May 16th. "My Back Pages" will keep you informed.
Closer to home, the climate has been somewhat friendlier at a rural lake in southern Missouri, where two young men were seen joyriding in a power boat this afternoon. The weather was quite warm, in the 80's, and reports are that the pair were wearing nothing more than Speedos! The scantily-clad duo zoomed around the lake, teasing recent high school grad-bois into fits of repressed homo-erotic tension. This reporter expects a widespread outbreak of drunken confessions of 'bisexuality' and first-time same-sex 'experimentation' by morning in the greater Branson, MO area. "My Back Pages" has learned exclusively the identities of the two Speedo sporters; Matt and Bryan of UMKC, Kansas City, MO. "My Back Pages" is attempting to procure exclusive photos of the entire incident, and will publish them pending review for tasteful content. (Not the Speedos, the photos damnit!)
In other news, record-breaking partying continues in Cleveland, OH, where none other than Andy Zupcsan has completed the requirements to be awarded his baccalaureate in Chemical Engineering in spite of his intense love of international relations and diplomacy. The celebrations will continue into next week and everyone here at "My Back Pages" wishes Zup good luck in finding a really cool and fun job. (We certainly appreciate the difficulty in that. - Ed.)
Meanwhile, back West in Seattle, Mickey continues to search for his soul like the Headless Horseman looking for his head. He's made progress, finding clues at a very interesting Jewish service, but he's also having a difficult time relating to his newfound knowledge and to his own life in general. "My Back Pages" continues to support Mickey in his endeavors and will no doubt conduct investigations on the scene in Seattle later this year.
Dateline Monterey, CA. Mother's Day was celebrated by this reporter all weekend. The family garage was cleaned out, at Mom's request, and many old boxes, full of childhood memories were sorted, sifted, and condensed. A great deal of old material was rediscovered and will certainly find its way into "My Wayback Pages" as that section of this web site is developed. I'd also like to express my deep gratitude and thanks to my Mother for bringing me up to be the person I am today. (She'd die if she ever read this web site, but I'd like to publicly state my appreciation anyway.) Although she doesn't think so, my mother has acquitted herself as one of the very best in raising two successful sons.
That's all for today's edition of "My Back Pages". Stay tuned to this web site for later updates on Mt. Everest, Gay Marriage, and the Interconnectedness of All Things...
Note: Author makes no guarantee of future performance in regard to publication of photos of Bryan and Matt wearing nothing but Speedos. Photos may only be published with the kind permission of the photographers and it'll be a cold day in Hell before Matt lets that kind of picture get out. Offer void where prohibited. Your mileage may vary.
Tuesday May 16th, 2000
My mountaineering prospects are looking much better. Early this year I had grand plans to climb for a week with a group from my climbing agency, Alpine Ascents International of Seattle, on the glaciers and peaks of the Alaska Range. When I decided a new job was in my future, I had to cut back my plans to a return to Mt. Shasta, and perhaps an attempt on Mt. Baker, WA. Finding a climbing partner for Mt. Shasta was becoming more and more difficult. My friend Aric, who hiked up Mt. Lassen with me in 1998, is interested but can't make plans until he has his Summer job lined up. Yesterday, my friend James agreed to join me, and even suggested that we start training together!
James has had a hard time of it lately, mostly due to his own making. He's in the military, but he's also gay. He gets into bed with guys a bit too easily as well. Over the last few months he's had a live-in boyfriend (not a smart idea in the military) who was controlling and was fiercely jealous of James' time, but was completely unaccountable for his own. James finally got sick of being told what to do and asked the guy to leave this week. It took courage to do that, but it was necessary.
Relationships are not games to be won, or tests to be passed. They are simply two people enjoying the company of each other. They aren't entities of their own, but rather are a dynamic state that exists between individuals at their behest. If a relationship is damaging or unpleasant, it should be repaired or ended. James wisely realized that his relationship was destructive and ended it, despite the emotional pain involved. I hope that he treats himself with greater respect in the future. He should choose his dates more carefully.
I think taking home the first trick you can find can be destructive in the same way a drug habit can be. It is fun, especially at first, but then it becomes it's own goal. Like the need for heroine supercedes the need for nourishment, the habit of easy sex becomes an replacement for real romance which the spirit needs to flourish. When you sleep with every guy who will have you, you are telling yourself you don't deserve someone special and just right for you. And you quickly end up believing it.
I'm so glad for James that he was able to see that his relationship was killing his spirit and depriving him of life. His new ex, Kameron, is loosing a good guy. I hope that Kameron can eventually see that he needs to treat himself and others with more respect too. Only then will Kameron be able to fully enjoy the things a relationship with a guy like James can offer.
James has also resigned from the military, effective at the end of this month. It is sad that the military is allowed to continue its open, vile prejudice. I don't think that it's policy of hate will go on too much longer, but it has gone on long enough to touch the lives of James, myself, and many others. To celebrate his social liberation James has agreed to take on the challenge of carrying the Rainbow Flag to the summit Mt. Shasta with Aric and I. He's never climbed before, but he's willing to put in the effort required to scale a large peak. I'll be very proud to assist him and be at his side as he accomplishes the new goals he's set for himself.
Speaking of large peaks, it's been confirmed that the largest of them all, Everest, has been climbed in 2000! A pair of Russians made it to the top on the 15th, and today three climbers from the UK (including the first Scottish woman to summit Everest) and a group from Spain tagged the top in foul weather. More teams will try tomorrow. I expect my climbing agency's team to go for it in the next few days too.
Friday May 19th, 2000
Last week, I had a chance meeting in the parking lot with an aquaintence, John, who runs the Public Affairs Office at the School here in Monterey. I asked him if I could make an appointment with him to learn a little about how to become a professional writer. He said sure, and even offered to publish any stories I wanted to write for the Campus News in my own time, just to get some experience.
Early this week, I sent John an email proposing I do a story on former Apollo Astronaut Gene Cernan who is coming to visit the School at the end of the month. I attached a copy of a letter to the editor of the Monterey newspaper about Apollo 13 which I'd written in April. Yesterday, he called with enthusiastic approval of my story and asked me to see him in his office right away. I assumed we would talk about how to become a writer and get paid for it.
From his office John immidiately led me to a conference room where four of the major people in the Public Affairs Office were waiting. Here I was wearing old dockers and my favorite Tigger T-shirt, and I'd just walked into an ambush job interview. It seems that apart from formal college training, they think that my experience and ability is perfect for the job of Alumni Relations Director at about $32,000 per year. This job involves writing the quarterly alumni magazine, keeping track of the alumni data base, administrating the alumni web site, organizing alumni events, and hosting alumni on VIP return visits. The alumni program is fully funded by the school as a department, so it is not a non-profit organization continually worried about fund raising.
I'm seriously considering accepting the offer. It would be a great step in direction of writing by making me cheif writer and managing editor of a quarterly color magazine with a circulation of 22,000. It also keeps me on the web and challenges my management and organizational skills in a way that maintaing a computer lab and collecting data for the last four years hasn't. I wouldn't be moving to Seattle this year if I accept the job, and I'm fine with that. Seattle will still be there later and maybe then it will be a better time for Brent too.
I'll be thinking about it over the course of the weekend.
I started writing a little story over the last couple days. I decided I wanted to see if I could come up with a complete fictional short story, third person, past tense, narrative with dialogue, in just one hour. I failed miserably. The little story seems to be coming along nicely, but one hour was no where near enough time. I'm going to be working on it more over the weekend. It's fun! I can't wait to see how it turns out. I want to wrap it up soon, because I feel a bit responsible to the two characters I've created. If I don't finish the story, they'll be left hanging in the ether, won't they?
Would you all like to read the story as I write it? It's to be a short story, so I can't chapter it, but I could add it to "My Back Pages" in sections as I write. If there's any interest out there, please send me an e mail and I'll put the story on the web. If not, I'll just save the bandwidth for now.
Monday May 22nd, 2000
It's summer in Monterey! I'm actually wearing shorts to work today. Here's the deal, for those of you unfamiliar with the climate of California's Central Coast. From late October through early May, the weather is cool (50-60F) and it rains once or twice a week. After May, the rain stops until October. Between June and September cool fog and overcast formed over the cold Pacific keeps Monterey gloomy and cool (55-65F). There are usually a few days after the rain stops, but before the fog comes in that we finally get warm, spectacular weather. It's here. It's going to be at least 80F right on the beach! (That's about 27C for you readers who don't go by our quaint little provincial measuring system).
Yesterday I went for an amazing hike. I woke at a descent hour, 8:30, dressed and loaded up my large pack with 50lbs of water (sorry my international friends, I'm not as good with mass conversions in my head. I wish the USA would get off its lazy butt and get metric so we can talk sense to the Rest of the World [ROW]). I drove a short ways down the Big Sur Coast and it the trail. It rises steeply and continually from sea level to 2000 ft (700m). It wasn't long before I'd hiked above the cooling influence of the sea. The temperature shot up to 100F (40C) and there wasn't even a hint of wind. The weight of water which I was carrying for fitness became a big challenge.
Big Sur is a region of hills and forest which form dramatic cliffs down to the sea. As I climbed higher and higher, I was afforded incredible views of the blue Pacific flashing in the sunlight. The hills all around were in full bloom with spectacular wildflowers of bright orange, yellow, purple and blue. Trees on distant ridges added a deep green to the palette. My trail rose up a treeless ridge carpeted in golden grass and dappled with the colors of the wildflowers.
Despite the incredible scenery ("I can't believe I *live* here!") I can only describe the hike as one of intense misery. The complete lack of wind made the heat almost unbearable. With each step up the steep hill my heavy load made my heart pound. About three quarters the way up, I was becoming dizzy and stumbling. I had overtaken a group of hikers with their dog, Misty, and decided to take a rest. Opening my pack, I pulled out four 1 liter bottles of water and offered them to the other hikers. One bottle I poured out into my cupped hand while Misty eagerly lapped at the liquid in my palm. Another bottle I dumped on my head and over my shirt.
Relieved of weight and cooled down a bit, I was able to continue up. I got to the top two hours after starting out. I dumped the remaining ballast water over my head (I still carried a liter of drinking water for the way down) and started to descend. The misery continued in the form of tired knees braking my body weight. The sun (there wasn't a bit of shade anywhere on the route) began to burn my arms and legs because I'd accidentally washed off my sunscreen with the cooling water and foolishly not brought more sunscreen along. I'd been mobbed by flies the entire way and their bites were really starting to itch. I spite of all that, I had to keep carefully placing one tired, wobbly leg in front of the other to get off the hill and out of the heat.
The down hike seemed to never be over with. The more I thought about it, other than the view and getting to play with Misty, there was nothing pleasant about the entire hike. The entire experience consisted of suffering in a variety of ways simultaneously. Why on Earth would I do this to myself? To train for the physical misery I'll experience on Mt. Shasta in June. To survive the kind of misery mountaineering has to offer requires both mental and physical conditioning. I got it on Sunday for sure. Now the unanswered question is why do I want the misery that will come on Mt. Shasta? If I could figure out the answer to questions like that, I wouldn't need to keep this journal!
Somehow, I survived the ordeal without collapsing on the trial and sliding the rest of the way down. I probably did push myself a little harder than it was safe to do. Oh, well. I made it home to a cool shower and to put some anti-itch lotion on my legs. Then I fell into my couch and watched this week's Formula One Grand Prix on tape from early in the morning. The race was in southern Germany this time where it was rainy and cold. Nice contrast to my day. German driver Michael Schumacher put in one of the most brilliant drives of his already stellar career, to the joy of the soggy but supportive home crowd.
After the Grand Prix, I surfed the web a little. I was looking around at some of the other journal sites for gay guys. You know, there are a lot of really cute gay guys out there. A common theme at many of the sites was "I need a boyfriend!" As I surfed around I thought more and more about how lucky I am to have my boyfriend, Brent. It just puts a smile on my face to think "Hey, I've got a boyfriend!" Right then, I decided I'd surprise him at his house with dinner when he finished work around 8:30 p.m. Yes, I've got a key.
I think the web is probably the greatest tool that has ever come along to help guys find each other. It is probably also the major contributing factor to the erosion of homophobia that is happening in the U.S. right now. Yes, I know that depraved people like Phelps and Robertson are still there, and that sick organizations like Exodus Ministries and FRC are still active. I just view these vocal people and groups as homophobia's desperate last stand. And I've got an idea that it is all happening because of the web. Gay guys are coming out in the relative safety of the web, and because of the safety they're doing it much younger than has ever been possible before. All of us internet guys are coming to the realization that were actually quite common and normal. That gives us the confidence we need to demand that we are respected for who we are in real life too.
I think I want to do a little more to help end homophobia. I'm going to talk to Brent about it, but I want us to be a little more 'out'. I want to start holding his hand in public. I want to be able to smooch Brent in front of my friends. I want to go dancing with him at clubs that think they can exclude same-sex couples. I'm guessing that every time we do something like that, some poor closted, boyfriendless guy will see it and gain a little more self-confidence. That's why I keep a rainbow sticker in the back window of my car too - just to let others know they're not alone.
And so I'll bring today's rambling entry to a close with that postive idea. For those of you who want to read the story I've been working on, I'll prolly have a link to it later today. I'm a little embarrassed by it right now. It has no real plot and keeps wandering in purpose and tone. It's really just an experiment to see if I can link a bunch of words togther. Never the less, I offered, and you asked, so I'll keep my end of the bargain and link it. No matter how embarrassing. Why should I care? It's you all that have to suffer reading my rubbish.
The last week has been dominated by preparation for my first attempt at professional writing. No, not the story I was working on last week. I've been granted an hour interview with Gene Cernan, the last astronaut to walk on the Moon, way back in 1972. I've been going over all his old interviews and mission transcripts in every spare moment. I don't want to waste a second of my precious time with him asking questions I could have looked up the answer to. The interview is a going to be for a piece in the school's alumni magazine I've been assigned. Needless to say, Wednesday, when I interview Gene, is going to be a big day in my life. He'll be the fourth (of twelve) moon-walkers I've talked with.
This holiday weekend Brent and I decided to spend together on vacation in Monterey. Last night, we gathered up a gourmet pizza, a Caesar salad, and a nice bottle of wine, and went over to the outdoor theater set in forest of Carmel. It is encouraged for the audience to show up an hour early to picnic in the amphitheater as the sun sets. The production was "Jesus Christ Superstar". The show is an old favorite of mine, and Brent had never seen it. The production was very good, and the actor singing the role of Jesus was simply fantastic. He sung, in the rock style, as well as the original London cast member, who did JCS in his spare time away from his pop band Deep Purple. Several other key roles like Pilate, Caiphas, and Mary Magelene were also sung extremely well by any standard and far better than you'd expect to find in local theater.
It was kind of a gay night too. The 'Superstar Dancers' were lead by a guy I could only describe as being a reincarnation of Freddie Mercury from Queen. The roles of Annas and Herod were also played in a very flaming queer style. Far from being offended, as I usually am by that sort of thing, I found it very amusing. Maybe I'm lightening up as I become more confident about
who I am over time.
For me, one of the neatest things about the evening was two boys sitting in the row just behind us. They were about twelve years old, and had been brought to the show by one of the boys' father who was sitting with them.
Brent and I wondered if the father had any idea of what was obvious to us. The two boys are going to grow up gay.
I've never been great with gaydar, but I've been getting better at it since coming out. I doubt that there are any rigidly defining characteristics associated with gay guys, especially two gay kids who probably aren't even fully aware of their orientation to be, but neither Brent nor I had any doubt about these two.
You could hear it in their voices and see it in the way they carried themselves. Both boys knew all the songs of this play by heart, and many other musicals as well. Several times before the show and during the intermission they burst into song! (They sang well too.) An older schoolmate of theirs was in the Chorus and one of the boys commented about how much he'd grown since the last play they saw him in and how handsome he was becoming. What warmed my heart the most was to see the two boys move closer and closer together during the show. It was so cute! They started off sitting with about three feet of macho social space between them (the rows of benches in the amphitheater were only half-full leaving lots of room) and ended up pressed next to each other. One of the two even spread his arms out over the backrest, getting an arm behind his friend's shoulders on the sly!
The whole scene was just too adorable and precious! I can remember doing all those sorts of things as a twelve year old who wasn't really aware of his orientation, but never the less was starting to feel the effects. Heck, I think I actually tried the arm trick on a boy at the very same theater many years ago. History repeats itself. I wanted to do something to help the kids. I wanted to intervene in some way. I wanted them to know what they felt was natural and OK. I wanted to encourage them to grow up being themselves and not to fear who they were or what other people thought about it. I wanted to talk to the father who was with them and see if he was prepared to meet his young gay son's needs through his teen years. Of course, I did none of those things. It wasn't my place.
What I could do for them, and did, was set a good example with Brent. We didn't do anything we wouldn't have done anyway, but now we had a greater purpose. We leaned against each other and often held hands as we watched the show. I snuggled Brent's shoulder a few times when I got cold. That's probably the best way that gay people can help those who are still deeply closeted, even to themselves. If we behave as if our same sex relationship is natural and normal, then it will be perceived as such. When gay couples project even a hint of guilt or shame about who they are, they reinforce the negative message about homosexuality that has been programmed into the collective subconscious of our society.
I particularly hope that the father took notice of Brent and I, and considered his son and friend. If there is any great regret I have about my childhood it's that my parents didn't notice they had a gay son on their hands and didn't help him with his special needs. In fact, if they had noticed, they might well have tried to 'cure' him of mental illness with therapy and counseling.
But think about it; it would have been wonderful to have been recognized and raised as a gay kid. Let me re-phrase that, it would have been wonderful to have been raised as the real me, including my sexual orientation. Instead, I got to grow up feeling like an imposter and a phony, carrying the burden of a horrible secret all by myself. No child or teen should ever have to bear that again. There is just no good reason for homophobia and it's time to put it's cruelty to an end.
Neither the boys nor the father seemed uncomfortable with Brent and I sitting right in front of them as an obvious male/male couple. This is California, and it is the year 2000. It is entirely possible that the father saw in his son all the signs that Brent and I could so easily see. I'd like to think that he purposely brought his son, with his friend, to the theater to encourage his cultural and social development as a healthy gay kid. Both boys obviously loved theater and would probably be involved in it soon. And, although they were too young to know what was going on, they obviously had a crush on each other too. It's nice to think that the father was carefully guiding his son through some of the most amazing and wonderful years of his life.
Monday May 29th, 2000