April 1993

The start of a new month always gives me a feeling of excitement. The past couple of days have been extremely difficult and painful for me. I am lonely, cold, and scared. All those generic things that really bad songs are written about. It's all the leftovers from the night Lee exploded about Hightops. The next morning I had said to him, 'You blew up and went through your thing and I'm left dealing with the anger and the hurt.' He'd blamed it on his father, something about keeping it all in and heart attacks. 'So, you're avoiding heart attacks?' I'd said with astonishment. I just felt so manipulated. I'm not here to carry his burden. That is not my job. But we both seem to recognize that this is just a phase for us, and we look forward to a fun season. God, watch over us with love and care. Finished "Consenting Adults", which was a bore. Started "Rubyfruit Jungle", by Rita Mae Brown.

I can hear Lee still in the living room rearranging the furniture he just bought from a secondhand store. He gets carried away sometimes. I finally had to walk away after a couple of hours of moving stuff this way and that. I can't read Thoreau yet. I'm not ready. The flowers are starting to bloom even though it's still cold.

Changes. Took the stove out of the dining area where I have been sleeping. Flowers springing up all over. Chicken and duck eggs everywhere. We gassed the muskrats. Washed rugs. Lee and I laughed and laughed and laughed today. My body changes.

Recovering from the flu. Talked to friends in Chicago. Had an intense conversation with mom. I'd call it progress. She cried as she recalled the painful years she spent with dad, telling me again how awful his family had been to her when she was just a seventeen-year-old bride. So much anger. Mom thinks I'm here to escape my life in Chicago, and blames herself and dad for my actions. I assured her that I am not miserable, that I am simply living my own life. I just wish she would get over it already! After our talk I lay in bed sick and sweating and saw life through mom's disapproving and grieving eyes. It's a sad way to look at things. Lee had some friends over for Passover dinner. Gene, the alcoholic mechanic from up the road said the word "niggers" and Nancy really dug into him. They got into a heated debate over dinner, which was really uncomfortable. Finished "Rubyfruit Jungle". It was amazing.

How unfortunate that I should think I have a deadly disease just because I'm gay and have a cold. What might it be like to have sex with all those beautiful men without worrying about your health? Was AIDS sent by God to teach us about stability and fidelity? Is there a reason for it other than death? I regret drinking so much back in Chicago and having anonymous sex. I regret being so generic. But would I regret these things if AIDS did not exist?

The Art teacher who looks like Winnie the Pooh, but ugly, is annoying. His lover laughs out loud, looks at me, and then down at my crotch. It rained. I went out and cut fresh flowers and arranged them in an old empty bottle. As I did this I truly felt where I am and what it means to be here. Got stoned by myself. Decided once more not to smoke pot ever again! Took a shower and drove myself crazy with thoughts, thoughts, thoughts.

Something is released whenever I talk to someone on the outside. Tom called from Chicago and put a dent in my circle. It was wonderful. He and his boyfriend David will be here in a week. I can't wait to see them. This morning I took a walk with Eartha and Hightops. Went to the ruins of the old barn, climbed up this structure and sat in the sun. I marveled at the open fields and the rolling hills, swam with drunken lightheadedness in the freedom of it all. The perfect green of the growing grass seemed to say, "Who cares what you are or what you've done. This is your morning." Such great starts and tragic endings. I refuse to talk about how awful the rest of the day was. I hiked up a hill in a part of the farm I had never been to. When I saw horse maneuver I somehow felt inferior, that the horses had been there many times before me, and knew more about the farm than I do. Crazy thing. Eartha followed like a dog. I thought about writing a letter to dad, telling him I love him and don't mean to hurt him. But would it make a difference? I'll write. Things won't change. Lee shot a muskrat today and to see it splash about and turn over and over in the water broke my heart. Rats. Life. I took the shotgun from Lee and ran to the other side of the pond to put the poor thing out of its misery, but luckily it had died by the time I arrived. But I remember the sunshine, not the anger. Nature always there, and I here at the house writing.

Easter Sunday. We planted trees, painted eggs.

We went into town to run errands. Lee took us to the graves of Davy Crocket's grandparents. Came back and planted onions and potatoes. My confidence is constantly being challenged but I feel strong. Eartha's feeling playful. I must go play!

Cleaned up the shrubs in the back of the pond. Splinters. Like promises. Brandon called and said, "I miss you," before rushing off on a date with a Swedish girl. So much to miss. I thought of the kiss he placed on my cheek when we finally got back to Chicago from that awful road trip. It had been raining. We're human.

Lightening. I'm going to ruin my eyes by writing by candlelight. Talked to David, Tom's boyfriend who lives in Kansas. When I told him I have calluses on my hands for the first time in my life he said, "They make jerking off fun." We laughed. He made a couple comments about getting old, being sick, and struggling with AIDS. All I could think to say was, 'Oh, stop,' and, 'Oh, please.' A sweet tender voice speaks to me here. The tulips have come. Planted asparagus. Thought, 'I'll have to get a lot more soil on my pants before I get to where I want to be in life.' I want to write, write, write about life and people, develop characters, give voice to the silences of life and being human. Happiness is a difficult thing. I think we're brought up unrealistically to want happiness. Isn't there more to want in life?

A cold and rainy day. I was playing with Lee's Boa Constrictor, Quick, who was wrapped around my waist when he suddenly turned around, looked at me, opened his massive jaw and clamped it down on my arm! I remained calm and simply called out for Lee who was walking ahead of me. Lee ran over and pried Quick's mouth open. Small drops of blood bubbled out of my arm where the snake's pin-like teeth had punctured. It took a few seconds before I started to shake uncontrollably. "I'm surprised how well you're handling this," Lee said as he took Quick from me. We disinfected the bite and wrapped it in gauze. The Praying Mantis egg that I've kept in a jar hatched today. The hatchlings are so cute. I've named them all. Just kidding.

Picked a tic from my neck. Mowed the grass and when I finished I lay down on the ground and laughed. Laughed at the hills and the trees with new leaves, and the watercolor sky turning overhead. Laughed at everything inside, the anger, the frustration, the love, the memories. These are the subtleties I'd like to capture.

Well, Tom and David are here. As soon as they got here Tom and I went to the back, grabbed our horses and rode up the steep trail that leads to another riding trail that was once part of a national park. We rode talking, wrapping our legs around the horses, leaning forward because the trail was so steep and the only thing between the horses and us was a riding pad. Occasionally the horses tripped on a rock and it felt as though we would fall backward, but Tom advised me to just trust the horse, and hold on to the mane. It was breathtaking riding so high up into the quiet woods. Coming back down was equally exhilarating, and once we were back on the open fields we galloped freely. It was amazing. "Everyone's really happy that you like it here," Tom told me once we were off the horses and were walking them to cool them off.

Tom gave me a Valium to ease the pain from riding. I have a new respect for the horses having seen what they are really capable of.

Tom and I got up really early and rode up the trail again. This time I rode a younger faster horse. In the afternoon I stole away into the bathroom and cried. I will miss Tom. Maybe I should stop loving moments so much. It hurts afterward and is difficult to let go. I've never really wanted Tom but these couple days I have wanted to make love to him like never before. David and I have been laughing so much it hurts!

They're gone. And I was left to write a poem about Tom and me on the trail. And to avoid Lee. Why did it have to rain all day? Thought, thought, thought, and fantasized. Always.

Lee left for Washington and will be gone for an entire week. I am here alone with lilies and bees. Yesterday I rode H.T. up the hill. I had tied him to a tree, brushed him, and chosen and sized a bridle for him. I rode alone with hopes and dreams trailing along. The green seemed to move into the mountains. I am very much alive and living. And what is mine may not be what I would have for myself but this is my life, as fate would have it.

Terry, Gene's wife from up the road came by today. We had a lovely time drinking cans of warm beer and smoking bowls. We were sitting in the sun when we heard a car pull up the gravel driveway. It was a stranger who had read about the farm and wanted to take a look around. I showed him around the farm. He asked who owned the property. I told him about Lee, that he's a writer originally from New York. "So, he's neurotic," the strange man said. Then he added, "With a character like that you can't fight or you'll lose." It was really weird that he would say that. I found myself getting defensive and disagreed, 'I don't think it's fair of you to make that assumption. We're very much alike as well as different. No one wins, no one loses.' The man was shifty and made me nervous. Being stoned didn't help. I'm just glad that Terry was there. Now it's dark and I'm a little afraid. I sat outside for a little while and looked at the stars. I wanted to conquer the darkness.

The lilies are frail and on their last days. With a red lily, a bucket of corn, and the dogs I lay in the tall, lush, lush grass where your imprint remains long after you have moved on. Into the sky I whispered, 'No one will ever know…' I sat in the sun where Tom had twisted his ankle and felt the breeze. I mowed the grass, grilled myself a hamburger, danced around the empty house, and made a date to ride with Willy, our gay neighbor Steven's helper. I'm just feeling great! At least I know that if the world were to turn its back on the weirdo it believes me to be that I would have a great time all by myself. Must go live.

Went to dinner at Steven's. For the first time in a long time I felt beautiful. I actually had reason to get dressed up and put gel in my hair. I've always been curious about Steven's farm next door and as I walked up his gravel driveway more of it became revealed. It was spectacular. Even his sheep were beautiful! Everything was manicured. The house itself was modern with huge sculptures and vibrant paintings. There was even a monkey in a cage. We had vodka-tonics on the patio and went riding on Steven's shiny horses. I rode in a saddle for the first time and felt awkward. Steven asked if Lee has given me instructions not to ever go over to his house. I was appalled that he'd bring up the issues between him and Lee, and said, 'There have been no "instructions" concerning you, and I'd rather not talk about my job while I'm off the farm.' When Lee called from Washington I wanted to be honest with him about having been to Steven's for dinner, and when I told him he sighed and said, "I knew something like that would happen." What babies gay men are. I refuse to get caught in the middle of this and am keeping a low profile. Reality looks over the white picket fence of my own heaven.

The phone rings constantly with people wanting to make reservations for the summer. I have long funny conversations with them. I had two guests for two days, two very old and normal looking men. Being here is helping me get over my homophobia and stereotypes. I see a greater gay community. I am coming to realize that sometimes I look, look too much, too deeply into things and see things that might not even be there. I ask too many questions. I know I'm fucked up in certain ways but I also know that I'm just fine as I am. Looked in the glass and saw youth and beauty undisturbed. Thought about people and the things we do to each other and ourselves, jumped on the bend and saw my shadow on the ground. Arms raised in some voiceless declaration. These days. God. How everything will be forgotten.

Nice guests. Two gentlemen from Seattle. One a nurse. The other an architect. Been together seventeen years! Seeing Lee's home video of the March in Washington made me miss Chicago. So many people. Lovely people. Love yourself. Love this. Love now. It all goes by too fast and we forget.

So much. Although I'm tired I will tell. The swing on the porch is where I want to be all the time now. Such lazy motion, the silence and the slow, yet sudden changing of seasons. The playing birds. Restless fish in the pond. The sound of their fins disturbing the muddy surface. Laughing with the guests. This and buzzing insects of all kinds and amazing colors! Suzanne, a mysterious young lady has come to escape all. She's cool. I like her. Lee and I sprayed weeds and discovered some beautiful plants. Everything looks different as the summer approaches, but I wonder how much longer I can last here. Lee says that the last few trips he's taken he's always come back to find his helpers gone. Funny. I'm still here. I, too, wanted to escape, but only when he'd returned. When I'm alone in the kitchen I tell myself, 'No, you're staying. You're doing this.' At the end of the day I went to the swing. A moon that is not yet full brightened the silver-blue night. Again I thought of suicide, but in a different way. Laughed to myself that there are now different styles of being suicidal! Lonely. How I wanted to stay up with Suzanne and talk. But this is her alone time. People we know talk us through things, but the people I know aren't here. I shall depend on myself. And what will come of this, of being here? The Redbud. The Dogwood in the forest. The old Oak that I hugged and kissed, and got sticky hands from. The many shapes. When you pause under a tree that has lots of blossoms you can hear the multitudinous buzz of the bees. It's just amazing. As I walked to the mailbox I wished for a letter and got one. Sat in the shade and read it and laughed. Repaired the chicken coop. Willy stopped by and gave us tomato and pepper plants. Lee carried on about Steven and I just tolerated it. I decided today that I would not fear or fret anymore. To be a free child. A gay child.

Woke up fantasizing about Lee fisting me. I want him to tie me and beat me. Last night I gave him a massage, even rubbed his balls and dick. It was all just very normal, and didn't feel sexual. Ron is a guest here and a very nice man. We rode together under a gray sky. When he left he said, "I'll always remember you as Emil Al-Ameen." He said that was Arabic for Emil the "Trustworthy". How wonderful to be loved so by someone. I'm exhausted. There was breakfast, horseback riding, mowing, dishes, cleaning, vacuuming, dinner, and more dishes and cleaning. So, this'll all make me stronger? I needed a change? Why in the world is a gay Assyrian nineteen-year-old from Chicago doing this? Sitting on the swing this afternoon I felt great power. Power all around me and in me.