*

Mom and Marv (AND Anna!!) could make the SF show! I was so worried about her. Benny helped get them a spot side-stage and provided them with ear plugs and whatever else they needed or wanted to be comfortable. Having them there, having family there *seeing* me succeed doing mostly what I want to do, was so beautiful and vindicating. Thankfully on a decent voice night, too. Not my best but certainly far from my worst. The first few shows are always slightly stiff; it can't be helped.

G-d Benny's so good to me, so amazing; I'm glad he was able to meet Mom, and seeing him treat her like a queen made my heart full to spilling. And she was just as happy to see me perform as I was to see her see me. She pulled me to her, hugged me tight, gripped my arms, looked into my eyes with such an electric joy. "Ever since you first started trying to sing your father's lines as a boy I knew I'd see you in a place like this. I knew you'd reach what he was too cowardly to try for. We worked so hard for this, went through so much; even when you reached your lowest points I still knew I'd see you here." She hugged me tight again, rocked against me, told me how proud of me she was, and I somehow didn't cry then, even though she was bawling. I just felt relieved-- well, that's still an understatement, really. If I was relieved, I was relieved of a hundreds-pound weight that was sitting on my shoulders unnoticed my whole life up 'til that moment, but the effect didn't really hit me 'til later. I asked her about how her seizure issues were doing, and she didn't seem worried at all and certainly didn't want to worry me any. Let me go at that point to talk to the others.

Benny was comfortable meeting Anna, and I ADORED introducing him to her, putting a hand on his chest, smiling so proudly, telling her that this wonderful man I've been seeing is named Benjamin Jones and that he works tirelessly every day and night to make everything run as smooth as it does. He was a bit shy about it all ("awww, I ain't ALL that, man"), but humored us well. The fact that he did all this for me, tho... we do love each other. We're supposed to be together. I know it in my heart. I hugged him tight afterwards and thanked him profusely for everything, told him how much it meant to me. He grumbled "Don't start cryin' on me, princess." at some point, but it was too late. Oh well-- not like I wanted to cry, either, and I truly wasn't expecting to. It just all came out at once. He heaved out one of his big sighs, but held me so gently until I pulled myself together again. I told him about Mom's recent seizure issues, and he understood more[32]. Offered to keep holding me, and I took it till too many people started hovering around too close for comfort and we had to break away (and I fixed myself up to not look like I just cried). I know I can't be too obvious around him while we're working together-- too much could go wrong before we accomplish what we want to accomplish-- so it makes me even more thankful he gave me that moment of emotional support and physical closeness on top of everything else he'd already given me for the day.

And what I didn't tell him, because it was something still dawning on me at the time: I've wanted, my whole life, to make my mother proud. I feel like so many times I get close, then either I'd do something horrendously stupid to ruin things for myself, or something else would come up that would do the same. For so much of that day it was like I was walking around in a positive kind of shock. It's strange, too, because she's told me before that she's proud of me for so much of what I've done with the band. This time just felt the most real, maybe because I KNEW I did something worthy of her, finally. I knew she wasn't just being nice, or trying to nudge me to do even more, or anything else. When she looked at me the way she did-- her eyes so bright, so warm, so kind-- I knew she'd forgiven me for all the awful things I'd done and the shameful things I never did. I knew she loves me.

I know she loves me, I know Benny loves me... no wonder I burst into tears the way I did. I don't know if I've ever felt this way before. Like I'm finally just... good. Am I? Can I believe it? It's something I almost want to ask G-d...

PS: Anna said she knew the second I looked up at Benny that I was in love with him. I told her: I guess I am! But that I'm still coming to terms with it all and that we're taking that part of it slow. That it'd be the first time really since-- "Ricky?" Since Ricky. Yes. She took my hands and told me that she wished the best for the both of us, and that I "of all people" deserve it. I don't know about all that, but she always believes in the best of me and deep down I am grateful for it despite being so resistant to believing it myself. I suppose that's why I've been able to tell her so much about myself, things I've told barely anyone else. If she thinks I deserve happiness, then she's one of the only people so far outside of Pammie who can handle the truth of me.

PPS: Juan, Eoin, Benny, Marty, and I have also been figuring out the logistics around more ways to keep us safe/private/etc whenever I or any other gays in the crew want to go out and have some fun with some of the local gays of whatever-safe-city-we're-in. A buddy system, for one thing. More of a group system, actually. Things are already getting worse for us, so it's become necessary (and everything with Jeff, too). That part is sad, but the camaraderie I feel and the support I have here makes up for a lot of it.

*

First leg of tour. There'll be a decent sized break in June and half of July, before the album comes out-- tho most of the July portion will be spent doing promo work. So really just (most of) June. Jeff's fit into our live show well, despite barely being able to carry a damn tune with his voice. I guess I should be thankful I don't have to sing my and Greg's old duets with Jeff, ugh that would've been terrible; I don't think I could fake the infatuation and hope and trying-to-impress sorts of feelings that I sang those songs with for Greg, with Jeff. It'd make me feel nauseous to even try.

Benny and I have been working together far more than doing anything romantic or sexy together-- we don't have the time, for one, but we also have far more eyes on us than ever before, and far more reasons for bosses to fuck with us. I'm obviously happy to be able to see him so often and do such incredible work with such an incredible man, but it's not the same as REALLY being able to see him, or touch him, for that matter, and that's what I miss the most, it's what makes me feel the most painfully lonely. On past tours I'd very happily go with whatever good looking guy I first noticed checking me out, but this time around I'm indulging myself that way a lot less. There's just something off about it, I feel so distracted, I cum and I think "that's it?". Topping is better in that way-- it's something I don't do so often, and especially not with Benny, so the novelty of it sparks something closer to the thrill I used to get just generally when going with strangers. The freshness of the feeling, of the dynamic. Honestly, though, as much as it embarrasses me to admit, I think I just want Benny so much that no one else can compare.

Either way, I don't get nearly as many guys wanting me to top 'em anyway. Guy's've always been most interested in fucking me more than the vice-versa. And I DO like bottoming, it IS often what I choose to do because it DOES feel good, and in a dynamic like mine and Benny's it's SO hot, but at the same time, it's not all of me. Greg certainly thought it was, which might also be why it's soured on me a bit. Ugh, it's frustrating-- I had to get over so much in order to simply accept that I enjoy getting fucked and that that's okay, but I still resent that it's such an automatic assumption about me. I guess it wouldn't matter so much if that assumption didn't come with a whole cascade of other assumptions about my life, my personality, etc. I'm feminine so I like getting fucked so I'm feminine so I'm there to get fucked so I'm feminine so I always want it so i'm feminine so I'm weak so I'm feminine so I can be walked over like I'm a fucking rug. And on and on. (I know Benny doesn't make those assumptions about me and that's why the dynamic we have works-- alongside the fact that he's just so plain good at it all)

Ugh, I miss all my girl-friends-- I can talk about things like that with most of them; they understand what all that's like and then some. Marty's great and I'm thankful for her, the poor dear all alone in her own way; the ~feminine man~ and the ~masculine woman~ commisserating with one another over some beers (ha, what if I asked Marty to be my "girlfriend"-- oh, I could never bother her like that. It'd be so funny, though). But yes, a lot of the time on the road, it is just Marty (I can't believe we're down to just one dyke! A tragedy). Near everyone else is a man. The only women around (outside of reporters and such) are out in the crowd, they're fans, and that in itself marks an impassable difference. I'm at such a remove from women for such a large portion of my life, currently. Surrounded by straight men. I've gotten used to it in most ways, but it can still be tedious at best, if only because I have to be so on my guard around them.

Before I knew any other gay men, I felt the most at home with girls (starting with Anna, really; she was always so kind to me and she's always been a kind, amazing person in general). They were so much more likely to be kind to me and understand more of me, even if I was still something of a curiosity (and not to say there weren't VERY mean girls...). The straight girls also like guys, the dykes are also gay, straight guys treat all of us like shit, so there's always something I share with them. I guess what I'm saying is, having no girl-friends around is a sort of loneliness that snuck up on me, and at the moment I don't think there's really any way to fix it outside of the occasional phonecall, and that's not a true fix at all!

*

Had a miracle of a break with Benny today, tho even that was so short. We held each other and mostly talked-- we don't even have time for that outside of business talk!-- he told me that he had grown up in a very poor area in Detroit, that public housing had temporarily saved him and his family (I still didn't tell him about Ricky, but G-d... of course they'd both be from Detroit. My life's strange that way). He tried work in the auto industry first, as many in Detroit do. It was his first introduction to unions: the good and the bad. That is, the auto union up there was a lot more for white workers than black ones. This eventually lead to the union siding with the business over ALL the workers. The black workers decided to organize themselves into their own union of sorts to campaign for rights and better working conditions. Things got pretty ugly, and it wasn't a victory per se, but some demands ended up getting met.

Even tho we're not focusing on unionization yet (would be a lofty goal in the best of times, but this may very well be the worst of times), he said to brace myself for a partial piecemeal victory as a potential outcome regardless of what our ultimate goal here ends up being. "...tho I guess something is still better than nothing. You work for it all, you might end up getting just a piece. You don't do nothing, you don't get nothing." --The process of that whole movement gave him a sense of camaraderie that he'd been missing, and that he wouldn't fully find again until the crew, tho also had in some way in certain gay clubs prior to that. "I guess I'm pretty good at finding families when I need to".

I told him that finding La Rosa was like finding another family for me, and that it probably saved my life in quite a few ways. Walt always tries to make the band out to be some sort of family-- on his terms, of course. And I do love the guys-- well. Maybe not Jeff. I told Ben I felt equally at home with him and with the crew as I did with the band, and I didn't know quite what to do about it besides what I was already doing. He said if he and the crew made working here bearable at the very least, it probably helped the band, too. "You worry too much, baby. And that's coming from me; y'all know I worry." It's so hard not to these days-- everything's just converging at once, and so much is at stake.

I told him about a vacation I had with my mother in Morocco when I was ten, running around a rocky field, coming across a cliff, staring down into the ocean. Being so high above it, the waves equally terrible and inviting. I'd gone closer and closer til my toes were off it, my arms spread wide, thinking so strongly about diving and crashing. I said that's what everything feels like now. (Bowing on the edge of the stage, arms spread wide, thinking so strongly about diving and crashing, drowning in bodies)

"I got you, baby." --He said that and held me closer, rested his chin against my head. I was finally able to just *melt*. Mom had gotten me too, but she'd yanked me away so that I fell onto the ground behind me hard, yanked me back up and shook me by the shoulders and screamed at me and cried and all I could think of was drowning again (she was obviously just worried sick about me, but being so young, I think all I could see and hear was the screaming). Benny didn't make me think of drowning.

I wanted to tell him I loved him there more than I ever wanted to ever before. Of course I didn't, though. --To be fair, there's enough on our damn plate right now as it is. But G-d I do love him. And I believe more and more that he loves me, far more than I ever believed Greg did (I was just hoping he did; I think I needed love more than I needed him-- or I needed to make him love me, I needed to be needed), he's just as afraid of getting hurt by it as I am. We both have good reason to be. We're at a verbal impasse, but I think our bodies have gotten the message they need for now. I kissed him like I loved him, looked into his eyes the same way-- that had to be enough for that moment.

I want to sing every love song we have for him. To him. I suppose I've already started doing so, but I need an outlet for this so badly. Not just the thought of him, but now of that moment, of being in his arms and feeling so safe; of needing, so terribly, to tell him that I love him. Of that love flooding my heart. I hope he can see through all the silly lyrics, the pop affectation; I hope, even if he can't reach that magic place with me the same way as I could with Rick, I'm still able to reach out and bring it down to earth for him.

*

Last gig before the break-- I must admit that as much as Jeff's personality and blueblood "quirks" continue to grate on me, he has a wonderful knack for musical phrasing and an amazing sense of where I'm going with my phrases, shaping them with me, ebbing and flowing, connecting. We don't connect as people but his playing connects to my singing similarly to the way Nate's does (not quite, but nothing can be exactly like that which makes sense; everyone's different). Moments like this, realizations like this, make me capable of fully experiencing the joy of performance. It's not sex, the physical pleasures gained from it aren't so explosive; the emotional and mental rushes aren't exact, but they're adjacent-- at least, for me. It's a kind of pleasure I could always take even when sex was overwhelming. And good sex and good musical performance makes you think stupid, stupid things about the people you're doing it with for the amount of time you're doing it with them and a bit of a lingering afterwards.

Sometimes wires cross and those rushes DO become exact in my mind/heart/dick; performing with Greg was like that. When I look back at that whole thing I feel so ridiculous... it felt so right at the time, the feelings were SO strong, strong enough that they had me convinced they were shared. Performing with Ricky was also like that-- and more than that, it was the first time it was like that for me-- and I think the grief of it all must have colored everything. Greg wasn't Rick, he couldn't be Rick, and I think eventually part of me knew that but I didn't want to know. All I could see, all I could feel, was a feeling I'd thought I'd never find again, a feeling that had been so suddenly and violently ripped away from me before, so once I thought I had it again I didn't want to let it go.

Those wires don't cross with Jeff, thank goodness, even if I'm very appreciative of the rush I do get from his skill shared with mine. Or perhaps, more honestly, the wires begin to cross-- but then all I need to do is think of who he is as a person, and it fades fast. Nate is similar, in a way, and has been from the beginning. The rush is stronger, though; his playing's pulled at my heart since I first heard him nearly ten years ago. I was still with Lorenzo and hearing Nate play made me feel hope for the first time in years, a belief that I could escape the situation I was in, a drive to try. Just months later I was out of Lorenzo's house for good-- Nate'll never know it, but I have him to thank, in a way, for giving me the courage I needed to leave.

Sometimes when he's practicing I'll linger in the back, part of me wishing I could be next to him, or behind him, pressed up against him as close as possible, feeling his hands feel his guitar, and it's not a physical attraction to him at all. It's wanting to feel exactly what he feels, it's wanting to drink it all in firsthand. When he's on stage he loves to show off, and he used to love showing off for Walt the most. Now he shows off for me just as much, and that's a whole OTHER kind of rush, admittedly even closer to sexual but still more of a vindication than a real turn-on. Then I remember what an immature meathead he is and it mostly fades.

I wonder if his thoughts about me are similar-- thinking silly things when I'm singing with him, then remembering I'm a girlish little queer, a fruit, the black sheep of our little "family", the open secret, the thing he's embarrassed by, maybe even apologetic about around his other stupid rock jock friends, and all that brings him back down to earth. What an interesting, sad thing to think about-- a shared fascination between the three of us, a shared revulsion between the three of us, a shared wish that we could all just be DIFFERENT somehow (with poor Rory and Sam simply caught in the middle of it all...!).

But we can put the revulsion aside for the gigs themselves, and then outside of business I still have the crew, even when I don't have Benny. I've come to love them like I love LR. Each of them is a piece of home, even the ones I don't say much to. Their presence is comforting. Rejuvenating. Outside of that, I feel a sense of connection simply as different kinds of worker. Like, I'm a musician, yes, but these performances aren't something we're doing purely for enjoyments' sake-- and albums are even more of a literal product. We're directly hired by Walt, basically employees of our label. That's what people who talk about "sellouts" don't get, but Walt doesn't like me explaining it in interviews because it gets a little too "political" for him (ugh): as soon as you're on any non-garage label, you're just another employee. If you want to make music to live-- as I’ve learned the hard way-- you HAVE to be an employee. You HAVE to "sell out". But yes, because of all that, and because of talking to the union people I've been talking to, I see myself (and the other guys) as a worker alongside a vocalist, a musician. And all the calling us Reaganite music or whatever makes me want to make that more clear in whatever way I'm able.

The crew more easily sees themselves as workers than the guys do-- I mean, they're doing literal physical labor. Constantly. With so little rest. Whenever I feel tired i just think of how Juan or Marty must feel. We're afforded a lot more surface luxuries than the crew-- that's so much of the draw of being a "star", after all-- and I think that's another barrier to understanding. It's another reason I like to be around them (not that the others don't hang around either in some way, tho not as often outside of their personal techs): to continue to gain and sustain mutual understanding. To ground myself, and share whatever parts of that luxury I can thru whatever means I have.

Anyway-- I'm very much looking forward to working with them after our break ends, but I'm also very much looking forward to our break! A few weeks before we have to get back full-time on the promo circuit.

*

[32]Tho was still bewildered as to why I hadn’t told him sooner, and the answer to that, really, is that I didn’t really want them to truly be an issue, and talking about them almost felt like willing it true.