[ Free Me From This Bond: Chapter 2 ]
Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2012 08:07:37
Subject: Moby’s Dick
Ha ha, I really mean “Moby Dick’s”, a gay bar on 18th and Hartford, where I found Arwyn playing pool. Had no idea he’d be there, I just thought to poke my head in and see. I am so happy, Eleanor, that Destiny deems fit to keep bringing us together.
He was quite happy to see me, and I offered to buy him a drink. He said “Coke and biscuit” or something like that. I said (not knowing very much about drinking booze), “My budget’s really tight, end of the month and all, as long as it’s under ten dollars.”
He just turned away, said never mind, approached the bar and bought himself and his opponent a drink. Well! He’s like that: a man of action and few words. So I just went to the bartender (who was SO nice to me; I’m not used yet, to the gay community returning all their love, so it’ll take a while), and ordered whatever Arwyn just got. It smelled rank BTW, like a longshoreman’s breath after grungy-hot sex and a blunt.
Went back to the pool game, which is situated in a second room with a raised floor, and laid down the drink next to the first one and asserted: “Here’s your second drink.”
So much more happened that night, and I will write it all down soon enough. Just for the nonce, I wanted to tell you how beautiful my life has become, thanks to his friendship. BTW, he lost his gorgeous smile: no dental insurance like me, he’s lost a few teeth. I told him I’m sorry, but I’ll soon be rich and make sure he gets back that knock-out grin, and so forth. (“Meanwhile, why not drop over my pad to admire these rare etchings I just imported from Kashmir?” I offered.)
He called me over between games, where he was playing some sort of video arcade. Don’t know why he called me over, or what he said, but I looked closely at the screen, and remarked, “I’m not good at those games, never make it beyond the third level, I play that at home sometimes.” Then I told him what a good man he is, and how my life is so blessed because he’s in it. Then he interrupted and said, “You can sit down now.”
“Okay” I replied, and went back to the bench. So I watched him play the next round, where he later took a break for the restroom. And his opponent said to a friend there, “Arwyn’s a really good pool player.” Then I approached and said, “Let me tell you about Arwyn. He’s my boyfriend, and he’s a good man in so many ways, not just pool.”
Then returned to my spot on the bench.
Few minutes later, the game was over (Arwyn lost), and he gave the opponent a really nice hug. He loves to hug.
Then I walked up to him and said, “You know, Arwyn, you readily hug anyone who’ll give you that chance. Yet I haven’t had a hug from you since April 20th, 2007…so, can I get a hug from you now?”
He then spread his arms wide, and I reached up to embrace, but he backed away and said, “No! Return to your little spot; I want you over there,” he said, pointing to my jacket on that bench across the room. “No hug tonight.”
I was floored, and limped back to the bench. This is my Arwyn. I am so happy.
Don’t remember leaving the bar, or even saying goodbye to him. I just woke up a few moments ago, with a gorgeous black dude in my arms. I gotta stop drinking so much.
Love ya, El.
PS: Arwyn informed me that Hole in the Wall 86’d him some time ago. And I said, “I’m so sorry, you were the heart and soul of that place. They were jealous of our friendship, there wasn’t even any sex involved, it was a ‘bromance’. And here I was planning to reconcile w/Gary, in order to hang out with you again. I’m preparing a gift for you, that I was gonna mail to ‘Barkeep Gary Clayton’ c/o the Hole, and trust that he’d present it to you. But that’s not gonna happen now. So, if I’m standing on Castro and 18th with this gift, waiting for you to walk by, will you take it, or just skedaddle along like I don’t even exist?”
He didn’t reply, just kept tapping on the video screen to get the colorful marbles in some kind of weird alignment. So I continued: “Either way, I want you to know how much I love you, and the happiness you’ve brought into my life.” Then returned to my little spot on the bench, hugless.
Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2012 08:30:21
Subject: Re: Moby’s Dick
> Did what you recount here just happen recently???
Yes ma’am. Last night. Last GLORIOUS night. *joy*
Earlier that day, I had strolled South of Market and passed by the new location of the Hole in the Wall Saloon, slowing down my pace in hopes that Gary would see, and invite me in. I was planning for some sort of reconciliation. Alas, no go, so I continued on my way to Trader Joe’s, and had a tasty jack cheese & avocado quesadilla (with a Diet Pepsi) at a tiny outdoor stand called “Urbano – Mexican Style Street Food”. Add two small containers of mild salsa to kick it all up a notch. (Where’s a spice weasel when ya need one?)
Then I returned to Hole in the Wall, only this time across the street, where I stood about nonchalantly, again in hopes of luring Gary out. Several patrons stepped out front to smoke and chat; none of them were familiar to me. This was around 4pm Sunday.
You see, El, it occurred to me to send a printout of “Free Me From This Bond” to Gary, along with the following gifts (which he would hopefully pass on to Arwyn):
A talking Scooby-Doo birthday card. Don’t really know when his birthday is, but I’ve missed so many (he’s 49 now, I think), that I want to start catching up.
A T-shirt I ordered from ThinkGeek.com, depicting a zombie with statement: “Zombies are people too.” Though the “are” is crossed out in blood, replaced by “were”. Check it out:
I had actually intended that shirt for a street buddy, Tony…but that’s a story for another time. Haven’t seen Tony for several months now; I actually offered it to another street dude I had over a few nights ago…absolutely cute, a real firecracker. (He left his knapsack and skateboard here; said he was gonna step out to buy some milk, and that’s all she wrote. For now.)
Two DVDs, the first one containing four ripped movies: “Clueless,” “Moneyball,” “Exotica” and “The Notorious Newman Brothers”, which latter you can view here:
FYI, I adore “Clueless,” one of the sweetest stories ever filmed. I always bawl tears of joy through the whole thing. It touches my heartstrings in the sweetest way, just like My Favorite Dragon! Since Arwyn is as big a fan of softball as he is billiards, I figure he’ll enjoy “Moneyball” immensely. “Exotica” is an intriguing, quasi-mystical Canadian film about the lives of people who work at, or attend, strip clubs (including a gay pet shop owner). “The Notorious Newman Brothers” is a delightful Indie parody on Mafia thugs, scintillatingly goofballish.
In addition to those movies, DVD #1 contains a collection of excellent music videos downloaded from Youtube (of course), and a slew of animal videos of all sorts: ducks, dogs, cats, goats, cows, birds, squirrels, ferrets, and on and on it goes. Really a great balm to heal depression. Though I strongly doubt I’ll ever be depressed again, at least not in any deadly critical way!
DVD #2 is a 5-CD collection of Laurie Anderson songs. I love Laurie Anderson, don’t you? Have you ever heard her piece, “The Ugly One with the Jewels”? Oh, here it is on Youtube:
OMG, Laurie is simply, tremendously original and a sheer delight.
Let’s see, I’m not done with the gifts yet. Also included are seven recent blog entries (printed out of course): “Yes Virginia, Santa Claus is Gay,” “Campitupalosaurus,” “Casper Titchworth,” “No Heteros in Space,” “A Rotten Deal,” “Kalmykia: Europe’s Only Buddhist Republic” and “Message to a Long Lost Friend“. Oh, and an eigth one, not so recent: “September’s Passage.”
Lastly, “The Book of Dragons,” which reviews (and details) you may read here:
So many rich and awesome paintings of various dragons around the world are included in this delightful tome, along with dragon folklore from Iceland to China. On the inside front cover I wrote in fine-tip black marker:
“To My Beloved Arwyn, the Dragon Of My Dreams. From your Bromantic Sidekick, Ezekiel (or) Eugene.”
Interesting that it occurred to me a few days ago, I should get him a book about dragons…since he is the Dragon of Hole in the Wall. Not thinking about it when I stepped into Pegasus Book Store on Shattuck Ave. Berkeley, I inadvertently laid my hand on The Book of Dragons in the mythology section! IOW:
Pegasus delivered me unto the dragons! Yikes.
Remember my painting of “Unicorn w/o a Horn” that I held onto for several weeks before shipping it to Randolph…so exquisite I kept showing it to people, including on campus (Merritt College, Oakland) where I was studying computer science: everyone was delightfully stunned. Well, I had a most intense vision of Pegasus while waiting for the acrylic strokes to dry (late into the night). He was so radiant and sweet, I wept on his shoulder…then he told me something amazing:
“Leave all your sorrows to me. I will bring Randolph back into your loving arms, on wing-ed saddle.” And that’s when I ran upstairs with the freshly painted sky-blue cotton sweatshirt, and knocked on Anthony’s door at 4:40am, weeping tears of epiphany.
These gifts are toted in a bag from the Disabled Veterans National Foundation (discovered in a Salvation Army discard bin) , in consideration of My Randolph’s tragedy…and the fact that Arwyn is a most courageous soldier in his own right, surely deserving recognition as meritorious as the Purple Heart and the Congressional Medal of Honor.
Between breaks in composing this missive, I stepped out with my gifts in hopes of finding Arwyn back at Moby Dick’s tonight, or perhaps another nearby bar or saloon. But nope, didn’t happen. So here I sit now, completing my latest Dragon Prophecy.
I have one photo of Arwyn BTW, taken some years back when he was (I think) on a gay softball team out of San Diego. Got it off the ‘net when searching for info on him for the Arwyn Chronicles.
Second from the right; as cute as he appears in the pic, he’s even more fantabulous in person. He’s just too rockingly gorgeous for words. I’d say he’s one of the most attractive males on the planet. Like a young, virile Randy Travis and, as ridiculously gorgeous as that is, My Favorite Dragon is a thousand times better looking. Besides, Mr. Travis does not possess a fine, scaly skin of shimmering emerald and ruby; nor does he sport a tail so long and powerful, it could knock over the Transamerica Pyramid Building in one fell swoop. And I haven’t even begun to describe the wings!
At night, when fanned out in full glory, the winged silhouette closely resembles the Brooklyn Bridge, with a span just as wide, perhaps a tad more so. The top side of these wings are, of course, encrusted with those glimmering evergreen and cranberry hued scales that deflect the light of the Milky Way in such a manner as to glint an overshade of purple and gold here and there.
Now, the underside of these wings is something else altogether spectacular: they are lined with a pearly white membrane with subtle shades that swirl around like the thinnest film of motor oil floating on a pond of milk and honey. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that these luminescent underwings are responsible for the majority of UFO sightings. But most folks are gullible, and prefer to believe in fantastic explanations, than one so mundane as a dragon.
There is another photo of Arwyn that once was displayed for a time at the Hole in the Wall: he was naked as a jaybird, full Monty and totally erect, with the Welsh flag draped over his shoulders and an outstretched arm. This man is so handsome, Eleanor, you wouldn’t even think of sex when gazing upon his birthday self. You would only see the work of Goddess’s Hand, and realize he is Her intended example how the perfect male should appear. There is more grace and courage in that man’s little finger, than in a thousand Navy SEALs.
Can you imagine if I hadn’t discovered Arwyn at Moby Dick’s? I would’ve been hanging out by Hole in the Wall for no useful purpose. And Gary would’ve received my blog printouts and gifts, and kept them from Arwyn, or even tossed them into the garbage. Destiny is on my side!
Who is more handsome than My Dragon Arwyn? I cannot imagine. I cannot imagine that the Universal Mind has even gotten around to it, or given it much thought…for not even Our Beloved Creator (pbuh: “peace be unto her”) can imagine anything more pleasing to the eye than Arwyn Miles.
To be continued…
Date: Tue, 27 Mar 2012 19:00:41
Subject: Moby’s Dick
> Ooooh-eee! I get the picture! Celtic royalty!
Very astute observation, though I’m surprised you could read that much out of such a small image. Attached is a photo of Youtube activist Charlie Veitch, who resembles Arwyn far more than Arwyn does, himself, in that first pic.
Such a noble face and dynamite profile. And clearly: Celtic Pride all the way. I’d say that Arwyn looks like a cross between Charlie Veitch and Randy Travis.
Are we having heart palpitations yet? Quick, bring the smelling salts!
Oh, well, I might as well attach another photo, this time of Randolph Taylor…who is also another radiant Celt, of Irish/Scot descent. Gorgeous just doesn’t say enough.
Obviously, I don’t lack for male beauty in my life. Just male booty. :\
Date: Wed, 28 Mar 2012 11:23:56
Subject: Moby’s Dick
El, I just composed this piece as a possible solution to the homeless problem in the Castro, particularly as regards the doping of older men by desperate youth. I believe that Arwyn was once homeless, and if the economy doesn’t soon pick up speed, he may become that once more. Not that he’s spoken to me about this at all, but I have a hunch. So I think this letter to the editor fits quite well into my “Moby’s Dick” work in progress. I just emailed it to the Bay Area Reporter (which has banned all my letters for years now, thanks to one police commissioner now retired), and the SF Bay Times. I will expand my outreach later tonight, perhaps even gay papers beyond The City. Cheerz!
DOPING WEALTHY DOPES
Speaking of the sharp increase of young homeless dudes doping up middle-aged men at the gay bars here in the Castro: What do we expect, in a sucky economy that’s crashed and burned almost as horribly as the Great Depression? More desperate people robbing from those with excess wealth; that’s what. And until we evolve into a truly equitable society (at least within our own LGBTQQ family), that is how things shall remain. But what isn’t being reported, is the fact that many of these young men (with a few pathetic exceptions) are decent human beings who need some real kindness and financial support.
They might steal, but they’ll never make you miserable, or commit bodily harm. I know, because I have been a “victim” of these darling scoundrels at least several times, just in the past year alone. (Now, please don’t cite me the occasional exception of some lunatic who actually does get a bit violent, and damages your furniture or even socks you in the eye; they do not represent the majority of the robbers in question.)
Thus far, I’ve been ripped off of one laptop computer, two android tablets, all the quarters in my change jar, several twenty-dollar bills, a miniature remote control device for my seven-inch screen portable TV (but not the TV itself), and my entire Futurama DVD collection. A grand total of approximately $1,450. Whoop-de-doo. (All my computers BTW, I purchase refurbished, so their possible loss will never be an earth-shattering trauma. I highly recommend TigerDirect.com for such purchases.)
I am certainly far from affluent, unlike many of you “homo-owners” who reside here in the Castro, or visit. In fact, I can barely keep my head above financial waters, living on just a disability stipend in an SRO unit overlooking Market Street, near Noe. (If it weren’t for rent control, I’d most likely be out on the streets myself.) So any sort of theft impacts me far more than it does most of the victims of these thieving cherubs who promise eternal love in exchange for a drink or two.
The tragic fact is: our queer community has become infested with a terrible disease called “Libertarianism”. And by that, I mean “corporate-worshipping right-wing Republican anti-universal-anything capitalist pig elitists”…which same disease has seriously impacted all minorities, not just ours. The long term result of such an infection, is a rather large increase of poor folk, some of whom migrate to wealthy gay neighborhoods in order to hookup with older men, and/or burglarize their premises in order to survive or get a taste of some of the luxury they are otherwise denied. (Through no fault of their own, I might add.)
What little our community does for the sexual-minority homeless is limited to youth. IOW: once you hit 22, it’s screw you, and a helping hand to the misery of these cold, harsh streets and a friendless (and often dangerous) existance among a much larger crowd of homophobic thugs who rule the roost (even in the Castro, which has a false reputation of “gay friendly”).
Because the majority of wealthy queers in San Francisco do not listen to the strident pleas (on behalf of our poor) by wonderfully liberal folks like Tommi Avicolli Mecca, mugging and theft of our upper classes shall continue, and even increase. Because so many of you wealthy homo-owners only think of sex when taking home a sweet but desperate young man who’s learned the ropes on how to survive off our community…you do not have any right to whine, let alone put them in jail. Instead of befriending some of these glorious souls currently stranded, and using your excess wealth to improve their lot and give them real happiness and meaning in their lives, you fat elitists cling to your material possessions like barnacles to a cruise ship.
And seeing as your Republican kind are so powerful in both finance and politics, it is highly unlikely Mr. Mecca (or any other brave hearted liberal) will see his dream come true any time soon…at least, not via standard channels. But after meditating upon this serious issue, I’ve come up with a solution, albeit radical (though harmless):
We can actually befriend these homeless waifs, and organize a sort of Robin Hood gang that uses every possible legal maneuver, to seduce our wealthy older queers to coughing up a chunk of their bank accounts on a regular basis. Said profits will be funneled into housing, food, medical care, education, and so on…that we may assist our street crowd towards a decent life. Another benefit will result, in that we can then easily weed out the homophobes among the homeless population, thus making things safer all around, even for the very same affluent homo-owners who spit on anyone with less than $300,000 to their name.
I have homeless friends on these mean streets, some of whom initially robbed me, but now show me great love and respect. Simply because I did not play the Outraged Wealthy Queer card; I did not report them to police; I did not arrest them. And surely, were I rich, I’d be opening up homes for these incredible street urchins so sorely regarded by narrow-minded dolts who, I’m sorry to say, control so much of our queer community. But, being 61 years of age and in robust health, I certainly do have the energy to consolidate this street project to aid our most disadvantaged and abused.
I’m sure I’ll take a lot of flack from others for my bold proposition. But the time has come for progressive, even radical, solutions to be acted upon…and sweep away the detritus of right-wing ideology that has so badly damaged what remains of true community and compassion here in the Heart of Gay Mecca.
Gay activist & homeless advocate since 1983,
a.k.a. Jehovah’s Queer Witness