August 1994
I love living. Sometimes I picture myself as a Michelangelo
figure, windswept and half-naked, waving goodbye to my teens. The
twenties will be wonderful. Chicago summers are fierce and dangerous.
It rains suddenly, madly. Thunder. Lightening. Mad downpours mixing
mud and sending streams, makes me wish for a lover to come from
teenage-like dreams. There is so much I don't know about my father,
although we live together. But I have given up for him, as if my
own aloofness will anger him enough to prove me wrong! I'm struggling
with my friendship with Brandon and smoking pot. I can't seem to
hang out with him and not smoke. I question his presence in my life.
But when we are with friends and laughing, Brandon resting his arm
on my leg, feeling close and comfortable I forget my resolutions.
So, you know what I'm going to do? I'm simply going to be my age
and do the bad things people my age do, and work, and go to school,
mess around with a man here and there, and survive it all! Deal?
Who am I writing all this for? Will I even read any of this in the
future?
Went to my first ballgame at Wrigley Field. It was
very exciting. My family stresses me out. Aren't they supposed to
be a source of comfort and security? Aren't they supposed to be
there when all else fails? I spoke to my aunt Jackie who asked if
I have a girlfriend. A frightening question to be asked. Am I any
safer being gay in America than in Iran? Wish she knew and I wish
I didn't have to be the one to tell her. What a responsibility!
As if life weren't difficult enough. I wonder if I should write
her a coming out letter.
Every time I ride my bike I feel so alive. Twenty
was full of fascinations and revelations. I will miss it and will
someday wonder if I was in fact ever that young. Dad's been drunk
every night and two days ago I told him that he needs professional
help. He claimed he could quit drinking on his own. Why are addicts
so stubborn? Merle is a wonderful lady. She is a beautiful black
woman with whom I work. She calms me when I get out of control.
Today I said to her, 'Merle, this whole Philip thing makes me see
myself in a new light. I've always claimed that looks aren't important
to me, but Philip's presence challenges that. I'm really disappointed
in myself.' She simply told me that I have a right to have certain
expectations of the people I date, and pointed out that I am also
not attracted to Philip character-wise. I do have to admit that
I get a hard-on every time I think of that night- Philip over me,
behind me, and in me.
Kelly invited me to the Ravinia with her family and
ex-boyfriend who was visiting from out of state. It was a gorgeous
summer night to be outside and listening to live music. There were
people on blankets, candles, wine, food. And my fascination. Kelly
and I took a walk around the park, shared a marguerita, smoked Marlboros,
and talked about Tim, her ex. She said she was almost certain he
was bi, if not gay. A little later Tim and I took the same walk
on a path that wove through the crowds. A wonderland of music and
blankets. Tim spoke freely to me about his curiosity, his smile
was flirtatious, his confessions erotic. He said, "You are so beautiful."
I said, 'I feel good.' We paused under a tree. Light faded, the
candles glowed. Tim talked about his fantasies and the way he masturbates-
one hand on his cock, fingers in his anus. I was hard. He said,
"I would love to make love to you." And kissed me in front of all
those people. It was as if we were alone. As we strolled back to
the others I spotted my favorite radio DJ, Terry Hemmert, whom I'm
sure is a dyke. I stopped her as she walked amidst the people, alone,
tall, and masculine. 'Terry?' "Yes," she answered without reservation.
'I love you! You're great. I listen to you in my car and your presence
brings me so much comfort. Thank you. We need you, ' I spouted.
She smiled warmly and thanked me and we moved on. Tim later told
me that she had whispered into his ear, "You take care of him."
Now I wonder just what power was manipulating the night so beautifully…
Twenty-one. I know this will never change. No matter
how old I get there will always be fascination.
Philip messengered a birthday present to the office.
A small book of Zen quotes and a poem. I wondered what this meant.
Am I an alcoholic? Should I not look into this too
deeply? I'm being silly.
Sunday I got very drunk and high and wonder if sober
friendship is possible with Brandon. I thought some more about dad
and my own measly addictions. For a second I felt dad's torment,
the suffering he must endure as an alcoholic. It's unimaginable.
I feel I've been so oblivious!
Is AIDS inevitable because I am gay? Is it my destiny?
Being gay does mean falling in love- madly- with fabulous
women!
Went bike riding with Philip and it's decided. He's
just boring… as friend or lover. Later I went dancing with a friend
and did a bad thing or two. Who am I? Don't I love myself?
The twenties are going to be trying in a different
way than the teens.
Tired. Tired of the things that continue to haunt
me. Tired of being hard on myself. Tired of being a youth in America.
Tired of finding the right way to say things. Tired of thinking.
Tired of my stomach that isn't flat. Tired of my father. I feel
I haven't loved in so long, that I haven't truly cared for anyone.
With those I know I pretend, I fake it. So this is what it comes
down to? To shutting off? Don't tell me, another depression visits.
After some debating went to Belmont rocks, the gay
beach. Curiosity took me there but what made it such an issue? Am
I homophobic? Yes. I am. They intimidate me. Shouldn't being among
men like myself bring me comfort?
Sometimes I display alcoholic behavior. My father's
father passed away this week in Iran. If dad were sober I'd comfort
him. I try to see his pain, his reasons for drinking, but I cannot.
And my grandfather's death? It doesn't seem to effect me. It's been
ten years since I last saw him. Yet a part of me, most of me, likes
all this, loves life. Driving to class today I thought, I should
become a priest. I certainly qualify. I'm gay, poor, and celibate!
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