Once again, this starts from a post on the message board...

Danny,

My heart goes out to you man. I'm so sorry.

I haven't spent a lot of time on the ongoing feeling of loss in my journal or here; it's been my experience that people who haven't been through it find it a bit sad and hard to deal with someone else's grief.

But I know. I lost fifty pounds in four months; people thought that I had AIDS as well and would die soon, I was unaturally thin for a while. And I went a bit mad.

One day, I was going through a grocery check-out with a load of stuff for the chef's cooking show and the check-out person screwed up totally. [I]And I hated her! I hated her for being alive instead of Bill![/I] The manager was called, she was in tears, I was a big dollar customer... I left in a royal huff after messing up this woman's life. I got into the van and roared out of the parking lot, got two blocks and pulled over and wept tears that burned my eyes painfully. I was so ashamed. And still so angry.

The Mardi Gras Day after Bill died, I got up and had breakfast and Mimosas with the neighbors, (Margaret was one, now also gone...), but about the time we were to leave for the Quarter, I left them, I said I'd be along on awhile... I laid on the bed and couldn't get up for the rest of the day; I couldn't move, couldn't sleep, couldn't read or think, I could hardly breathe: it was all just pain, mind and body all the same, horrible dull intense unceasing agony. I thought, "This is more than I can survive." It was the worst thing I've ever experienced, an elephant of grief sitting on my chest.

I did survive it, as you know, but it was a close thing.

I went on from there. Sometimes I was glad that there was no one there in the house, no one to disturb. I could play music as loud as I wanted! Freedom!

And then guilt.

Grief is an ugly thing because it is your own monster; it happens in your head and no matter how smart you are, you can not avoid dealing with it.



The Dreams.

I dreamt a lot after Bill died. There were themes, recurring themes, although the individual circumstances changed often, just like they do in dreams.

Bill would tell me that he had to have some time away from me. And I would help him move to a new apartment where he would be living alone, usually a small place, but nice enough. I would drive back and forth, gettig him moved and then I would do it one last time, and I would get lost. I couldn't remember how to get to his place... I would drive around the town which would become increasingly vague and more confusing and I would just be lost... It was all my fault.

I would go to a party and walk into a room and Bill would be there! He wasn't dead! He would talk to me for a minute, then walk away, just disappear.

Sometimes, the party dream would happen and we would talk for a bit. He would tell me that he was all right, that I shouldn't worry. That he loved me and only me. We would hug and I would feel him there with me... and then suddenly, I would be alone in the room. The party would still be happening with some people around that I knew, talking and smiling, but Bill wasn't there. I would ask people if they had seen him and they would look at me with blank faces and not reply.

Each time, I would wake with a jerk, sometimes in a sweat and always full of anxiety. The rest of the night was a crap shoot; I'd either sleep well or not much at all.

Over nine years, and I still ocassionally meet him in my dreams, but not so often now, just a few times a year. But sometimes intensely and also very sexually.

When Bill died, I had this idea of how I would handle my grief, that because I was a thinking individual I would work through it and I would be all right and that turned out to be somewhat true. But I had no idea what a curse intelligence and imagination could be. For a while, as I said earlier, I was truly mad, crazy, lost.

There's more, but really, it's probably more than you wanted to hear.

Know this. You can come out on the other side, maybe scarred, wounded and walking, but you can come out of it. If you've done it right, most people will never know where you've been, the bad that you have been through; you only share that with other survivors...




Angels In America.

I watched the DVD alone at home this last Friday and Saturday nights. I expected it to be very good; Pulitzer prize, Tony's, more Emmy's than any other show... but it was better than that!

I usually can't watch anything anymore about AIDS in the eighties. I was fucking there, it's all too close, too real, to much like my life back then. But this was different.

First of all, the HBO Mike Nichols directed film of the play was brilliant and it could have been much less; making a film of this play could have been a terrible mess. Instead, it is a sublime acheivement; to adapt this incredible play for the stage to film with all of it's fantasy and poetry was the result of a miracle perhaps, but more likely the result of a labor of love and and a supreme exercise of great talent and craft. The film is gorgeous. The acting by the big names, Meryl Streep, Al Pacino, Emma Thompson (all of them at peak performances) and the lessor known; Jeffery Wright, (brilliant!), Justin Kirk, Patick Wilson, Mary Louise Parker, Ben Shenkman, all of them right on the mark.

But most of all, the writing of Tony Kushner... no one has writen anything for the theater like this for decades. Maybe for much longer than that. To construct a six hour theater event with this many well defined characters and this many themes that holds together so well, it's just a truly awesome thing! He is a major talent; it's hard to think of anyone who compares.

Have you seen it? You should. It's brilliant!

If you have, I'd like to hear what you thought about it; it has to be different for you depending on where your were in the late eighties. (And did you scream when you figured out who was playing the old rabbi in the beginning?! hehe!)

Talk to me,


durlx

Originally posted by Tampa Dan. Originally posted by Richard:"Love like you're not afraid of being alone."
It means that real love is about giving, not needing. To give without needing. That sounds like a self-actualized state that doesn't come naturally to a lot of people... but well worth the effort. I like your definition, Richard.
Any others?

This was from the message board, and this is how I started to respond.

There's a way to teach yourself how to give without needing. You can train your body to produce some nice endorphins when you are doing the right thing. It's all a matter of focusing on the right thing, and that focus comes from your imagination, as our squirreliscious one said. I have been using a sort of imaging technique for work now for quite some time and it's amazingly helpful. Today, I was shift manager, as well as working in my own area, so I had to deal with everyone's problems, not just the ones in my own department. I pictured myself as the wise and caring person, in charge of things, but also interested in how each person was doing and how they were feeling about their work day. And, somehow, I've learned to make myself feel good when I really listen to what each person has to say. It makes it easier to give the right response to whatever problem they might have, and most of all, I am able to pass some of that good feeling along to them. (It's what charisma is, you know... you learn to convey good feelings to another person.) It worked like a charm this morning... and the day went really well... until I almost slapped this crazy woman towards the end of the shift! I'm still learning...

I've gone through several stages in my life when I have appeared to be quite the extrovert, but it's not my natural state. I pay a lot of attention to the people around me, trying to understand and I tend to be extremely empathetic; I pick up on the feelings of those near me and sometimes have trouble separating them from my own. There are times when I just have to be alone to sort things out. As the years go by, I see that I've gotten much better at dealing with this, but it's all because I imagined myself being better at it.

And love... In my late twenties, I really wanted to be in love again with a man. (I had a fairly early and intense love when I was seventeen which left me cross-eyed, but wanting more, just not knowing how to go about it). I found my direction in a book called "Dancer From the Dance" by Andrew Holleran. It inspired me to see myself as someone who had a lover. I finished the book one night and went out to the bars in the Quarter, and met Willie, actually that night. We went on to have a relationship for five years and lived together for three and a half of those years. It was an intense and sometimes very stormy relationship and the breakup was messy, but it was a real thing. We are still friends after 20 plus years. With Bill, it was a little different. He was dating someone that I had a crush on and I hated him at first. Then a few months later my best friend sat us down to talk to each other since I was looking for cooks for the restaurant that I was chefing at, and I hired him, but it went way beyond that rather right away. Actually, here's the story. I haven't looked at that writing I did about Bill for a long time, but there it still is on my site. I had meant to tell the rest of the story... just haven't had the time or the inclination.

Not everything was perfect; there were times when we yelled and screamed and threw things. But they were few and fortunately, Bill never held a grudge. When something was over, then it was over and gone. It was a good match. He didn't like to plan or think ahead and I just had to do it; planning and rehearsing in my mind for the future was an obsession. He lived very much in the moment and helped to keep me there as well. I had an often unwise desire to tell the truth and Bill was an inventive and amusing liar. The nun that came from Catholic Charities (part of the AIDS services) to "counsel" us when he was dying was suprised to learn that Bill believed in re-incarnation and that he would be coming back as a hummingbird. Bill's sister, Sue and I were in the room at the time and I had to bite my tongue to produce tears that didn't seem to be from laughter. (This wise nun was not fooled, and she made me cry later when I really needed to.) So, I learned from my time with Bill that a sense of humor is necessary in a relationship. That a certain view of the truth is healthy. That the needs of two people must match in some way. That they each have something to give to each other.

And I learned something important about my self; that I have a very strongly defined sense of loyalty to my friends and lovers. I now extend some of that to the people that I work with, but the stronger part of it goes to my friends. And when I have a lover, the strongest part goes to him.

This is not a statement of how wonderful I am as a person; it's just how I turned out so far. There are lots of areas for improvement. But this sense of loyalty is central to my feeling of being a "good man". You need to have that...

It's why I can get up in the morning and go out to face the day.

durlx

More Southern Decadence!

There's a lot of pics in this one....

O.K. I wussed for Saturday! I stayed home and gathered my strength for today, the big day. (The days when I could do three in a row are gone, alas! But perhaps that's not such a bad thing.) Robert reported that there were four contestants for the leather contest and that three of the four were hot!

So, I met Robert and Richard...

...about one o'clock in front of the house and we walked into the Quarter to the area of the Golden Lantern where the parade always starts.



Loved these gurls with the mobile sperm bank!





A few of the many pics...








And Richard....



We made our way back and forth between Bourbon Street, Lafitte's, and Good Friends on St. Ann. And everywhere we went there were soooo many fabulous looking people.... We did see Brandon Baker, he was dancing on the bar at Good Friends.... but I couldn't take a pic because it's not allowed in those Woods bars anymore.





And, most gratifying to me, there were lots of redheads with freckles... I mean actually, small herds of them out in the sun with their shirts off and getting all burnt! Not even one of them seemed to have someone who knew how to care for a red!


I know how...


We finally met up with George and did Rampart Street... We went to the Voodoo and to the Seventh Circle, (formerly TT's) and viewed the bois on display there... which seemed to excite George and Robert... bwahahahahaha!



We left Rampart and did one last trip down Bourbon Street, all full of lush boys and men... and then George does one of these things that always amazes us. He says "These people will give us some friend chicken!" And we walk into this house and they are delerious to see him and they give us fried chicken! Just the perfect little snack to get us home...

Soooo, I hit the door before ten. The Quarter was still screaming! But it was enough.

There are many more pics, maybe I'll get a gallery up tonight... really, there were so many men... (I got it done....The Southern Decadence 2004
Gallery

Southern Decadence is always fabulous! And I'm so lucky to have such good friends to do it with year after year.

ah....


durlx

Southern Decadence!




We started off at the Good Friends Bar, George, Robert and I. We spent a good amount of time on the balcony waiting for the Rev. Storm's group to come down the street... we didn't see him.



Bourbon Street was packed.



So then we went to the Golden Lantern... somehow we got seats right in front of the drag toilet.... very unusual.... but from there we had a fabulous view of my old friend Rick Beaman, now know as "Clorox Bleachman!!!"



I helped Rick earn that name... long ago... he used to be the least likely drag queen...

Then, we crossed the Quarter to Rampart Street to attend the Radical Fearie Party.



This was the best part of the evening... these people were having the most fun...








urp