February 1993

Shortside is in bed with me as I write. Lee and I did a lot of work yesterday and today around the farm. You can hear an occasional car on the gravel path that veers off the main road and to the farm, which is empty, quiet, rustic. I cried myself to sleep my first night here. Could hear the voices of friends; still see their faces from the night before. It's very cold here at night. Yesterday we spent most of the day inside painting the walls. When I stepped outside for air I was shocked by the silence here. I'd forgotten where I was. Somewhere a cow mooed. It sounded beautiful, like a horn. I went out and visited with the horses this afternoon. They roam the farm freely. They came to me and ate from my hand; they circled all around me and frightened me.

Lee and I have been working around the farm, fixing fences, painting, weeding. I'm exhausted. We cleaned the cabins that will someday be occupied by guests. We changed the sheets and put condoms and lollypops on the pillows. We fed the horses that look beautiful in their winter coats. I guess I'm o.k. A little tired. A little homesick. A little confused about life. I keep reminding myself that Chicago is only an hour-and-a-half by plane. The moon is gorgeous here.

Nancy, who lives on the farm next door, is over. She and Lee are going over a letter she's written to a senator about gays in the military. Nancy's brother is gay. I made her a cup of tea. The weather is beautiful, and at moments I am completely inspired. Not feeling creative, yet. When will it come? Or was it city life that inspired me? We'll see.

It's a zoo here. Horses, dogs, chickens, ducks, finches, and a boa constrictor. I just got back from riding Hashish. She can be such a bitch. I write letters.

I cannot feel sorry for my mother because of the way I live my life. Lee had me go out and catch Hashish myself, place the bridle on her, and ride her. But she would not let me. Came back to the house frustrated. Lee suggested I go back with a bucket of corn. Soon enough I was able to get closer to her and slipped the bridle rather awkwardly around her head. I just walked her for a little while. Studied the horses, their body language, the way they interact with each other.

Cleaned Quail Road for a guest who has come in from Chicago. He's a very nice man. It rained. I loved it. Used power tools for the first time. Feel myself changing. Lee asked what was on my mind this morning. I told him I hate not knowing. He said that whatever I decide after the month trial period would be fine with him. We talked about other things. He expressed that he would like to make love to me but that we can't because we have a working relationship. I like his honesty. We get along well and are in some ways very much alike.

Jim- our guest from Chicago- and I took a walk around the farm and fed the horses. He is a sweet man. I was alone in the main house for a while and watched one of the porno videos from Lee's library. Watched a man get fisted. It was fascinating and sick. Two lesbians from Nashville arrived today. Then there's the IRS man with the beady eyes. I was a bit nervous at dinner but didn't spill anything on anyone. Lee called his mother in New York and she told him she didn't want him going to the big march in Washington because relatives might see him on TV. Reading "The Frontrunner". Called dad and said, 'Dad, don't drink, don't smoke. You're getting older and have to take care of yourself.' Nancy's gay brother Irve is coming home from Virginia where he works at a riding stable. I told Lee that I'm looking forward to meeting him and he said, "Don't feel bad if he distances himself. He's like that around people he finds attractive. He once fell off the porch looking at one of the better-looking guests."

Lee and I just finished our end-of-the-day conversation. Talked to the lonely IRS man for a while this afternoon. He is incredibly boring and depressing. Jim gave me a two-hour massage, with Lee's approval of course. Three men in a beat up old blue truck brought us firewood today. The men were dirty. Long day.

Jim has left us. I was angry with him yesterday because I'd caught him staring at me at dinner. Visited with the horses, petted them, talked to them. The farm was quiet, light fading. There was something very sorrowful about it all. I'm always getting chills. Lee says it's because my energy fields have opened up here. Lee likes my writing. It made him want to cry, he said. At breakfast Lee said that he'd dreamt there was a horse inside the house. It was the strangest thing. I had dreamt of the same thing! I don't know what to make of it. The dogs are as sweet as can be and follow me everywhere I go. I apologize to the IRS man here in my diary. I think I have been insensitive and impatient. Some people require more tolerance than others. Miss my friends.

Lee and I stayed up late and talked. He went on excitedly about us starting writing projects as he, too, is a writer. I had to ask him to slow down. We are honest with each other. Our guests have gone. Andy arrived today. He is a gentle man in his forties. One of the younger geldings is named after him. Lee had gone into town for a few hours. Andy fixed us a drink and we talked. He plans on adopting a twelve-year-old boy as his own son. I thought that was nice of him. Lee had a problem with me drinking with Andy. I guess this, too, is a rule- no sex or drinking with the guests. I almost feel indignant about this but know I have to conform. Lee and I worked in the office today and I got to read some of the essays he's published in gay papers. He says he finds me "extraordinary". But isn't that what I'm trying to get away from? Feeling different. I want to feel normal. Ordinary. It all becomes overwhelming. The writing. Creativity. Now I'm cranky, tired, worn out. The horses are getting to know and trust me. They respond differently to me. Are friendlier.

I have been sleeping on the pullout sofa in the small library that's in the main house. Sleeping amidst all those dusty books. Self-help, fiction, history. In this room there is a finch that lives inside a wooden cage made by a woman Lee knows. She works with wood. I sleep in the light of a lava lamp. Often in my sleep I glimpse strange shapes moving slowly in the night. Then there's the old Singer Sewing Machine. Today Andy and I rode around the farm on his four-wheeler. We rode up a hill but had to get off the four-wheeler and hike the rest of the way because of a fallen tree in our path. So far up. We happened upon a few ancient and faded headstones. Andy told me, in that wonderful southern accent of his that makes every story so much better, that a person is buried properly when he is facing east. That the executed are buried facing south.

I want to, here on the farm, confess my ego. I want to draw, write, sing, take photographs. I want to share my creative powers. I want. I need. This wanting kills patience.

Lee has a fancy duck with a strange red head. He calls her Tammy Faye. Today the horses greeted me in the field by running along the side of a hill and kicking, showing off. Sparkle who is tall and white seemed to prance. It was like she was dancing. Andy looked muscular, young, handsome. I am so attracted to him. Hey Boy joined me in petting Andy by taking small gentle nips of him. While I was with the horses I knew one thing only- that all I can do in life is to accept everything that comes my way.

Lee was moody and I stayed out of his way today. Made beer bread. Visited with the horses. Sat by the pond in front of the house and noted that it is the same color as coffee with cream in it. A rich brown. Always reading.

Lee and I found a kitten in town and brought her home with us. Lee lost the lawsuit against the man who sold him the bad coal. I'm feeling a lack of space between Lee and me. I talked to him about it. He was very good about it. I have decided to stay.

Candles. Letters to the many women in my life. I'll die in the company of women, such lovely creatures. Such strength.

I've named the kitten Eartha Kat. She's the sweetest thing, always purring. At night she sleeps on my face!