*

It doesn't matter how limited or wide-spread this flu-cancer thing is anymore, at least not for me, because Dave's got it. The cancer version, too, of fucking course. Well, now they say it's the same exact thing and the flu part is just the first part. "Gay-related immunodeficiency syndrome", they're calling it, I guess. GRIDS for short. Cute. Now, do they know for certain it's "gay-related"? Do they know WHY it's "gay-related"? Of course not. All that I see for certain is that it IS an STD, and a frightening one. --How is any STD gay-specific? Does the CDC think only faggots do anal (straight people by and large will act disgusted by the idea but experience and drunken boasting tell me...!)? Ugh I'm still in such disbelief at this whole damn thing. Angry disbelief. I suppose I should be less surprised: why would the Reagan government do their due diligence? And of course they'd say it's just an issue for queers! Easier to sweep it all under the rug that way. Who cares what happens to us? Or even-- thank G-d it's happening to us.

The moment it spreads to the straights (or they discover it spreading among them) they'll change their tune, but when will that happen? And once it does, will they just blame us for it? Anyway. The skin cancer Dave's got from it is aggressive. They're giving him a year to live. One of the first friends I made at La Rosa, so excited and enthusiastic to show me the ropes, so welcoming, so funny. He'd always get a little tipsy and start heckling me to sing more Donna Summer tunes on my house singer nights. I'd tell him that the setlist is the setlist! It's what we practiced! But he wouldn't hear it.

I'd let shame keep me from La Rosa and then this happens. He better live long enough to come to LR one last time. I'll sing an entire set of Donna, just for him. Please.

PS: Not sure when to talk to Shann about this, or how. Worried she’ll just go back to treating me like some half-gross half-pitiable monster, or accuse me of trying to make her sick, or something. She’ll learn about it sooner or later, though, and it’s probably better if it’s from me. Ugh.

*

Haven't been to the movies in ages; got to catch a re-run of Blade Runner w/Shann. Wasn't expecting it to be as emotionally resonant as it was. Ford did a good job as the protagonist, Decker [sic], but I felt myself most drawn to the antagonist-- Rutger Hauer's character, Roy Batty. Especially the scenes where he meets his "creator" and crushes his head in his hands after begging helplessly for more life from him (he has 4 years total to live), and the entire sequence where he and Decker are playing cat and mouse-- he's starting to die, but he's still fighting for what he has. Futile, but it didn't matter. The fight for it always fucking matters. "Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it?" Indeed. In fucking deed. They're all getting whacked for the crime of being unauthorized androids or whatever, and that's all that matters to Decker in the end, of course. Just doing his job. Rachael deserved better. They all did, and I suppose that’s part of the tragedy of it. A dank, dark, beautifully-scored tragedy. Likely all written and produced before all this sickness stuff even started, but being released now, into the world as it is, with all this happening… it’s all a lot more fitting than they likely ever imagined.

None of the guys in the band will ever understand what I'm going through. I mean, that was always true, from the very beginning. I put a wall up early on and kept it that way. Dropped it a little for Greg and saw how THAT went. Even Sam, as much as I appreciate his presence. I mean, he's been married to a woman for awhile now anyway. I'm not the kind to begrudge that too strongly-- love is love and who you end up falling for is who you end up falling for; it's never so tidy or straightforward as we would prefer it to be. You don't have real control over all those things. But I do think it has the tendency to put you a bit at a remove from the rest of us, those of us who are stuck in it no matter what, and I think you'd have to try real hard for that not to be the case. Regardless you'd have to show a dedication I haven't seen from Sam. So, do I trust him far more than the rest of them? Yes. Is the wall still up anyway? Yes.

To be fair to Sam, all this might very well impact him and his friend group, and in that case I'll revise my position and thoughts on him and his marriage. The rest of them, though? HA. It might as well not even exist. The more this goes on the more I know I'll resent them for that blissful ignorance. How could I not? Especially when a couple of them-- Jeff and Walt specifically-- would have little sympathy for me. It's Gahd's will, dont'cha'know (G-d for Jeff being someone he regards the opinions of only if he agrees with them already). It's what you get for being a group of degenerate perverts (and, pray tell, how is the typical straight rock star not a degenerate pervert? HMMM!).

G-d I can't get too angry now. I can feel the bile rising in my chest. They can't see it. We have too much work to do together. And everything with Nate is frustrating enough as it is. Even more frustrating now, maybe, because to him it really is all drama.

PS: Sean Young looked FABULOUS. And the part where she made fun of Decker's stupid questionnaire and asked him whether he was looking for 'replicants' or lesbians made me laugh, but in retrospect, it also tells me that the gay allegory wasn't lost on the screenwriter or director or somebody. (I suppose Decker and Rachael were bisexuals? Ha)

*

UGH, Nathan's insufferable. He and Jeff had a song pretty much completed by the time they showed it to me-- they just needed me to sing their first-pass lyrics so we could see if they fit my style, phrasing, tone, etc. One of his ~heavier~ songs, of course. This time, I knew how it felt to have my throat feel raw at the end of a song. He wanted to rip all that out of me? Fine. Here you go. It's yours.

It was easier than I expected at first, too, because those lyrics were so obviously... UGH. Well, about me, for one thing. But about Shann, too, and that would be amusing if it wasn't completely annoying. "I bet you she's the one who helped you come undone"... no, that was you, almost, sweetheart (and without a care in the fucking world, of course). But nice try. I suppose what Shann and I have is something of a "strange attraction", though, so I'll give you that one. Then again, maybe Jeff came up with that one. Don't want to give either of them too much credit. --But really, does Nathan actually think SHANN'S what's keeping me from hanging with him? She's never liked him, we've certainly bitched about him together, but that's something we agree about, not something she's forcing me to agree to at gunpoint. Shann's been around the studio a bit now, too, but she's been out of the way each time. She was just curious how it all worked, and I needed my refills. Oh well. The song itself's shaping up to be interesting, and as silly as the lyrics are, they didn't need much revision for me stylistically. They both know me well enough that way, but really, that's the most important way for them to know me anyhow.

I wonder if Jeff tries to psychoanalyze Nate when they write together (they apparently still try to psychoanalyze ME... ugh). I bet Nate'd give Jeff anything he wanted. Idiot. ...Then again, maybe Nate's too oblivious to give him what he wants. Or his head's too empty outside of guitars (and cars, and girls) that there's nothing interesting enough there for Jeff anyway. Maybe Jeff'll get tired of Nate's "sulking". --Ugh, it's like one side of me wants Nate to stay the hell away from me, is happy he's with Jeff and not bothering me, but the other side of me HATES when he's with Jeff, hates that I don't know what the hell they're talking about together, can't help but think of him over there, relieved at how uncomplicated it all is, enjoying the ease of it without any sort of tension or disgust, and I want to vomit.

There's so little to work on at home now, too-- before, I could throw myself into something with Shann and that'd make the both of us feel better. We threw ourselves into every project we could think of last year, though. Everything feels more and more raw. It's work, care for Mom (she's been in a better mood at least, and doing fairly well), home. Sometimes, when Benny isn't too busy, I can find some relief there, still. I've been back to LR now, too-- want to enjoy it while my ~new look~ offers me more anonymity-- even though I was dreading what Cryssie would say once she saw my hair. She wasn't there, though. Tommy and Pat teased me for the hair instead (and they haven't seen Cryssie around... which makes me feel a pit of dread at the bottom of my stomach. G-d she better be okay). Even LR isn't a complete relief, now, with the plague being what it is. I sit and drink and look out at the dance floor and imagine what it'd look like half-empty at peak hours. I leave early.

*

As tiring as dodging or barely-answering Jeff's stupid questions can be, working with him has settled into that easy clip that it had a couple years ago. Maybe I can't blame Nate too much for wanting to experience that. And Jeff really is so mindful of how my voice works, what's comfortable for me, the way I like phrasing things, my crescendos and decrescendos... like him or not, he is a consummate professional. It's a relief, too, to not have to push myself the way Nate wants me to. Not that being pushed is always a bad thing-- being challenged is often good, sometimes very important. But with Nate, it's often a one-way street. He can challenge you, you can't challenge him without the "sulkiness" Jeff's annoyed by (not to say I can't be... I suppose I'm just used to it. Usually). Jeff, on the other hand, understands it's all part of the job.

Relatedly... I've been careful talking about Walter with all of them, for obvious reasons. Especially Nathan, but also Rory. Jeff... I didn't know where he stood, yet, and I already know how he feels about me, even if he's too much of a coward to say anything about it to my face. I don't want him running and telling Walt anything like the rat he can be. But I brought up Walter a little bit today, and I'm thankful I did. For one thing, Walt already chewed him out-- he won't run to him as easily as someone like Nate might. But anyway, he sighed in relief at the first little complaint I made, told me he thought it was just him. "He's a lot... pushier than the manager I had with my old band. I get he's the boss, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I get the feeling he's a little too big for his britches." ...Ugh, Jeff would say shit like ~a little too big for his britches~. But I'm still thankful that someone in this damn band knows that Walt isn't all that. He could be important if Walt or Phil try to fuck with what Benny and I are doing too much again.

UGH. He somehow finds a way to be just a little too important, every time. This wouldn't be nearly so annoying if he wasn't such a rat on top of everything else. I mean, maybe his rat-ness can be used for good purposes? I don't want to trust him farther than I can throw him, though (and I can't really throw him, so there).

*