Performed a festival in Dallas in the DEAD of summer so of course it was awful out-- very hot, not just humid, downright SOUPY-- and it was messing with the electronics the whole set. The first positive of this scenario was that when Greg's mic blew during a song he had to sing the verses of, I was able to run over, perch my butt on his keyboard setup, and hold my mic out for him while the crew scrambled to get things working again. Which made him barely able to get thru the first verse without cracking up, but it still got the job done, at least. And it made me feel cute. :) And really the whole time, he wouldn't let me get too down about any of it-- the heat, the electronical snafus, nothing. We kept making each other laugh, and then Nate got infected with it too, and Rory, and it ended up being a blast even tho we were so overheated by the end of it I nearly passed out! Rory and Nate had to shoulder me like I was drunk and Walt was practically pouring water down my throat!
He had the mercy to let us use a swimming pool for awhile after that one. I don't think any of us moved in it for the first... ten, fifteen minutes? And it was nighttime too, so I was just resting with my arms up against a wall, head back, staring at the sky. Just far enough from all the city lights to see some stars. One of those moments where it would've been nice to get cuddly with somebody, but also completely inopportune. --I did touch one of Greg's pinkies with one of mine at one point, and we held them underwater for a few seconds. We both laughed it off.
PS: Really, now that I think of it, outside of even just the embarrassment of it all, expecting to ever fuck Greg spontaneously is unfair to him-- it's not something he normally does, so he wouldn't be all too prepared for it on short notice. I was just so caught up in the moment! And under the influence of substances.
Going thru/touring in mid-size cities in places like Oklahoma and Kentucky or whatever has been consistently tense so far. Even bigger cities in some of those states. --Not that I ever feel completely safe anywhere, but it takes far fewer "off" cues for people to start glaring or gawking at me in Tulsa than in Los Angeles or Chicago. Reminds me too much of Carlton. Not just the anti-gay stuff but the racism, too. It's not so bad when I'm with others, so I try not to get caught alone. I haven't tried to cruise or anything, either... seems like a way worse, far more risky idea than it would normally be. I hate having to worry about this tho I know I'm far from the only one. I hate that ANYONE has to worry about things like this.
The guys don't completely get it, either, because as far as most of them know I'm just a straight pretty-boy like half of the other lead singers in rock. I don't think they would get it even if they knew I was something different than that. I don't think anyone completely gets it until they've been jumped and beaten themselves, sorry to say. And straight guys, undebatably-white guys, have a lot less to worry about in that regard than they sometimes like to fantasize they do. They fantasize about it because really it's a fantasy about beating other people up that "try" to beat them. Because of that fantasy, too, they resent men (and women) that get beaten and weren't able to "fight back"; they consider them inherently "weak" somehow and thus partially to blame for their own beating. So it all becomes a vicious cycle of bullshit. --I've been talking to Pam on the phone, is it obvious? But it's been so helpful. I truly would have felt completely alone otherwise. I've missed her so much, I really hope we have time to get lunch together once I'm back in Cali. She's generally happy w/my success, VERY glad that I've stayed clean. She still works at that archivist position at UCLA, which doesn't surprise me; I mean, that was her dream job (my darling nerd-ette!). Now we've both "made it"!
Ricky,
There was no damn time to visit you and that made me so angry and upset for reasons I obviously couldn't explain to anyone. I haven't been able to see-- G-d. It's still hard for me to even just say "your grave". The thought of it is enough to make me want to start sobbing, but I know if I start I won't be able to stop. I've been fine, MORE than fine, admittedly, and I know by now you wouldn't mind that, at least. But it makes the moments where I'm suddenly not fine feel like a punch to the gut. Being pulled back into a grief that felt endless and endlessly deep when I first felt it is extremely disorienting. Maybe less like a punch, then, and more like being thrown into the deep end of a pool and held underwater. But yes, it's been more than a year and I haven't been to your fucking grave and that upsets me.
I sung every song tonight to you, though. I hope so much that you heard me, that you could hear how much I still love you, how much I miss you, how much I hope I'm doing right by you, how much I hope you'd be proud of me. I miss that feeling so much-- the love and joy and strength that came along with knowing you were proud of me. I could never take it for granted. I always wanted to make you proud of me. With everything I did. I still feel so unmoored without it. I remember you enough to have a general idea of what you'd want me to do, but it's obviously different.
I missed you so much tonight that I held Greg after... well, you know. We have sex every so often. I held him, I took one of his hands, nuzzled my face into his hair, breathed it in, but I didn't feel what I wanted to feel, because it wasn't you, and because Greg and I don't love each other. I admit that I miss being in love dreadfully. I know I'm not anywhere near ready for it, but I can't help but miss it all the same. Things won't be so bad soon. I know that. But I had to sing to you and I had to talk to you. I WILL see you the next time we're in Detroit, though. I'll make absolute damn sure of it.
Love always,
Julie
I want to say I got to enjoy New York City, but no! One show there and a flight to England almost immediately after! UGH I always wanted to visit New York-- ever since Luis moved there, actually. He always made it seem so interesting. Did have time to hang around London a little, tho. But just a little! So much of our time is eaten up by travel. Exchanged numbers/addresses/etc with the lead vocalist of the opening band who was quite obviously a leatherman-- more friendly than anything; being in touch with other gay musicians sounds nice-- and also picked up two electric tea kettles (and US outlet adaptor... things) and a few different kinds of tea for Mom and Pammie (my two tea lovers!), so used the little time I had well!
Also-- Greg told me today that part of why Walt hired me was that he thought Greg didn't have it in him to be a frontman, at least not anymore, that he was getting too old and flabby for it. First of all, what an awful thing to say to anyone, let alone someone who works for you! And why should a rock band have to be dictated by that kind of marketing logic, like we're some cookie-cutter label-created disco group or something (I mean... I suppose I know why, but it's still terrible that it has to be that way)? Second of all, clearly Walt has a terribly restrictive taste in men. I told Greg exactly how ridiculous I think Walt is and exactly how handsome I think *he* is[16], and I kissed him in a way that I think, thankfully, made him believe it.
Honestly fuck Al, what a fucking nonce (as my new English penpal Robby would say). Rock's always had its own style of debauchery and being around it up close has made me grow accustomed to it (...which Pam would HATE...), but he takes it to the extent that it's admittedly actually uncomfortable. There's plenty of groupie girlies around that are at least most of the way thru high school, you know? He apparently doesn't, christ. Plus, he just never liked me anyway, or the idea of having to change his play style to accompany a different style of writing/etc. Just very stubbornly set in his ways and his ways are either obsolete or... eugh. Not sure of the word I'd use. Pathetic? Desperate? "Obscene" was the first I thought of, but that's the kind of word an Anita Bryant or Phyllis Schlafly[17] would use, probably, and fuck that sort of thing; that's used as a cudgel against ME already. Walt at least agrees that his presence is becoming more of a liability than not these days, so there's that. I didn't even mention him on my own, just kind of rolled my eyes when he was brought up and Walt provided his feelings on him for me for free. Nice of him to do so, and nice to turn his own game back on him for once.
But yes, it's hard when someone's your co-worker but also just terrible. Mamaji’s (--and Graddad, accidentally on his part...) given me a perhaps incurable distrust of management n' bosses[18], but the problem is, in a business like this, there's not really a union or any other kinda group you can turn to instead for recourse. JUST management n' bosses. It'd be swell if that could change, but I have NO idea what that'd entail. Far more work than someone like me can wrap my head around! And anyway, I'd feel worse about the possibility of getting Al in trouble if he didn't take so much pleasure in teaching me all the British words for faggot. Like, come on, bitch. You want to fuck thirteen year olds. Give me a fucking break.
As for the groupie girlies: I've been able to get away with just kissing/cuddling them at most. A lot of them get it (and I wouldn't be the first for them, either, many have told me) and those that don't just think I'm being a tease, ha ha. Even the ones who get it sometimes get a little sad/disappointed, but that makes it fun to ACTUALLY be a tease! The ones that do get it have been such sweethearts, tho. Almost a little protective of me, which is cute. Also relieving, in that it makes it a lot easier to do what I want to do. The more people willing to cover for me, the better, yknow? At the same time, it's obviously not something I'd like that many people to know. Being too trusting has never gotten me anywhere good.
[16]And really, who should you believe: Walt, or the guy who digs other guys?
[17]Her name sounds like a sexual disease… maybe that’s why she’s so hung up over it all. Syphilis Schlafly.
[18]The only boss she ever answered to, she said, was Granddad. I guess she was something of a radical in her youth, some kind of anarchist or something– the wildest member of my family by far! Or at least, the one with the wildest past. Granddad tamed her. She calls him her boss in a way that seems loving to me, but it still just makes me sad...