*

Having to play Comiskey Park the fucking day after the Disco Holocaust put me on edge more than anything else has so far-- I'm as tired of crap disco as the next guy, but I wasn't sure if it was really about the disco. Chatted w/some local gays about it (was around the city for long enough to learn some of the places to look!); I wanted to know the details of things before assuming ALL of the worst. But no, they didn't like it either. Put some more on edge than others (black gays and queens especially) but nobody liked it-- a mixed crowd, but definitely some real racist pricks there trying and sometimes succeeding to start small things around. Fuck, I hate the thought of having to Tulsa it in CHICAGO of all places. A crime!!

*

Well, it wasn't a full-Tulsa. I just played it a lot safer on stage. Thankfully it was an incredible voice night for me; EVERYTHING was coming so easily and so I leaned into the goodness of that over the anxiety of the surrounding environment. Tried my best to send the last two songs up to heaven so Ricky could hear it. Honestly, everyone was having a great night; one of those moments where I really felt "success" as a band more than any other metric people assume. --A sexy guy offered me a lit joint right off stage and what could I do but accept that (and suck on it good for him, and blow it out for him along with a kiss n' a wink)?? I had an interview immediately after the show, tho, and it started kicking in right as I got there. Ugh. At least Rory was there to help me out a little. Could've been worse. The interviewer asked me who my influences were and I just BLANKED, though (and such an easy question, too! ugh). Afterwards everyone was off doing their own thing, which made me a little nervous again even tho I usually enjoy that time. When it's a tense situation, it's not so easily enjoyable. Still found another guy to have some fun with, just more discreet fun than I would have preferred otherwise. Thinking about what I wanted to actually do with him made me cum as much as his blowing me did.

All in all, a lot less bad than I worried about initially, and the performance was so good that it shaved off a fair bit of my residual ill feelings. Luckily for the gentleman I found, and for myself!

*

If there's one thing about Greg I hope I can change, it's his attachment to Walt. Him, Nate, n' Rory all buy into the whole ~family~ schtick hook line and sinker and it's frankly embarrassing. Like, I haven't been in a lot of "typical" jobs but the few I had as a teenager during summers had a boss that tried that bullshit-- ohhh, you're all burger flippers and cashiers I'm paying cents an hour and forcing to wear humiliating outfits in front of lines of impatient people for 6 to 8 hours a day but it's all groovy, right kids? We're all family here! HA. Okay.

I know I wouldn't be able to convince the rest of them about any of this and that Greg would be a far shot too, but I still brought it up to him tonight before we fucked, and only because he did first-- just something about Walt wanting him to keep doing those embarrassing Bud advertisments after shows (and they are SO embarrassing). I just scoffed at it, asked him if he'd jump off a bridge if Walt told him to. He got so defensive and anxious, and I remembered what he said about Walt having dirt on everyone-- and that if I was a little too rebellious, Greg could very well add to his dirt collection on me. So I righted the boat a bit. Said that I obviously respected Walt's authority in a general sense, and knew he was our manager for a reason, that I didn't have the kind of expertise he did-- but that I was also simply never the sort to go along with anything blindly. I couldn't help but also add, too, that Walt needs us just as much as we need him, and it'd be good for all of us to never forget that, no matter how much we like him personally.

I'm hoping that I made him feel so good after that any misgivings or apprehensions he has about me ~undermining~ Walt or whatever dissipated. If not, oh well. I'll just be a little angel boy for awhile until Walt gets off my back again.

Anyway. We had a little time to talk after I rode him, too, and he told me about the first time he ever had road sex with a guy. He was twenty three-- he's thirty-two now-- he'd been away from home for nearly a year, he was half-drunk next to a stranger in a packed bar, sitting squished up next to him, the physicality uncomfortable at first until he felt the stranger's foot lock around one of his legs and stroke his calf. It was shocking to him, but the shock settled in a pleasurable space, made him feel warm. "--Well, maybe it was just the booze". Either way, they exchanged a single look and went 'round the back of the place, felt each other up, the stranger sucked him. "I didn't like thinking about it. It made me feel sick. I didn't know what the fuck had gotten into me and I didn't want to know." Yet he'd occasionally go back to that place-- not the literal location, of course, but the feeling. Always in the same circumstances. A little drunk, lonely, homesick. He's never told any of the others about it.

I told him I had to do it drunk at first, too. Both of the religions I was raised in said it was wrong, but I also couldn't help going back to that place, that feeling. It was just so much more real than any attempt at being straight. There was always a part of me, deep down, that couldn't understand how something that felt so good could be inherently wrong-- like, who was it hurting? I also said-- and this was bold of me, but I couldn't help myself, because it was true-- that he hadn't been all that drunk with *me*, usually. I saw him tense, saw his cheeks flush red, so I quickly gave him an out: that then again, performing with him was enough to get me a little drunk. "...Yeah. It can get kind of, uh. Intense. I mean, YOU can get kind of intense anyway." I relented to that; it's true, other people have told me as much. I also told him not to worry about it. That it's just me being a silly, dramatic queen. "Just being a little Mediterranean with me again?", he joked, and I burst out laughing, couldn't BELIEVE he still remembered that. Ahhhh he's so cute.

*

Having a better more relaxed time in Europe so far-- on the first tour we had barely any time to do anything but travel and play (and I mean even worse than in the states), but the schedule gives us one actual FREE day in England! I called Robby in advance and let him know, so we have something set up. Ahhhhh I'm so excited about that. I got to talk to him briefly after catching the last songs of his band's set last year, and that's how I got his number/address, but that was it. But I wouldn't know Kate Bush's music without him so I'm forever indebted to him. Glad I packed some leather things! Was also able to pick up some vinyls in West Germany that a record shop friend of mine told me to look out for-- a couple LPs each from CAN and Kraftwerk, and one called NEU! which is nonetheless pronounced "noy". I really don't understand the German language...

Crowds were nice, tho. I feel so much more comfortable being more myself when we're abroad, for likely obvious reasons (won't run into anyone I know in Germany, I'm not instantly recognizable there if at all, a rumor in Germany isn't going to blow over to the 'states all that easily, etc). I still have to balance that with how the guys feel about me and what they know about me, but it's been fine. They're used to me by now. I'm lucky, in a way, that people just expect lead singers to be more feminine. Walt is honestly pickier than crowds are-- I mean, he knows, so of course he's more likely to see anything I do with that context. The audience might see the same moves that Walt gets conniptions over and simply be reminded of, say, Robert Plant, whose sexuality has never been seriously in question, who's seen as a pinnacle of rock-manhood. Now, do I think I could ever be seen as that, or would I even want to be? HA. But the gestures and postures are familiar enough, I would hope, that they're read closer to that way over anything else.

...Even though the German language confounds me, I do still wish I knew a bit more of it. There were a few times a guy might've been flirting with me but I had no way of knowing for sure!

*

FINALLY got to meet Robby and hit an English club on our one day off! In some new leather-ish stuff I got for the occassion-- leather jacket n' lace-up pants (and black eyeliner and a smudge of dark brown eyeshadow, etc). Teased my hair up a little and parted it in a more feminine way. We were both so happy to see each other, too. I ADORED how over-the-top he was in his complete leather dom regalia-- cap, aviators, gloves, cuffs, whip, the works! As soon as he saw me and could do so safely he took my hand and kissed me from my wrist all the way to my shouder, said (in an amazing accent) "Julie, moy lady, yer more of a beauty up close than oi could've ever imagined." It just made me flip entirely into queen mode immediately and it was all the better for it. I think part of me was craving a guy's hand around my waist again (out of context from "normal" society, that makes me feel so good about myself I forget people think it's "unnatural"-- Oh and I got to wear Robby's cap, too! HA!). And G-d EVERYONE at the club had amazing accents. I knew I'd probably have a fun time flirting with the British boys, but that made it even better. It was just such a perfect club experience (well, near perfect-- some boys were a little annoying about my nose but even then they meant well, just-- don't touch my face without warning!!).Great tunes, great dancing, great dance partners, great kissing and groping partners. Was fun doing that with Robby, too. After a few drinks I was tipsy enough to ask him if he wanted to do anything else with me while I was there (I was on his lap at that point, facing him), and he laughed and shook his head. "I don't think I could do what I like doing to ya. 'Specially not after drinkin'." Fair enough (tho I told him he'd be surprised, that I'm not as fragile as I might look)! Making out was still fun (and I still got another nice someone to jack off/jack me off in the back before I left~).

Oh-- there's a dance to go to the song Wuthering Heights (and a video)! Robby got a couple of his friends to teach it to me after I gushed to him about how amazing Kate Bush is (before I ending up straddling him, ha), how I use her songs for practice, etc. I'm not the most graceful at structured dancing, honestly, but I got the basics of it down and I want to keep practicing it just to have in my back pocket to do for fun if I ever find myself in a big ol' field :) Mom'll get a kick out of me dancing, too!

But yes-- a great endcap to the non-US leg: gay and around friends (and gay around gay friends!)! And I got away with it all and changed before the guys could even figure out where I went~ :)