(Message In A Bottle) So This Was Why You Warned Me Not To Send You Any Of Those!
Just now on Facebook…
Relax. They probably have your colonoscopy photos on file too.
[Update…] I’m queer…I can’t stop myself…
…I’m so ashamed…
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April 6th, 2015 (Message In A Bottle) So This Was Why You Warned Me Not To Send You Any Of Those! Just now on Facebook… Relax. They probably have your colonoscopy photos on file too. [Update…] I’m queer…I can’t stop myself… …I’m so ashamed… April 5th, 2015 Driving In The Nails For Easter (Message In A Bottle…) This came across my Facebook stream tonight… This is actually pretty typical. If you are shocked by this I assure you I am not. The imagery here comes from a right wing Catholic group but don’t be paying much attention to that because the sentiment isn’t specific to any one religion or religion in particular and it’s not about how they see us so much as how they want us to be seen. This is the real thing. Most of your gay and lesbian neighbors, except the very lucky maybe, have felt this breathing down our necks all our adult lives. When other kids start having their first crushes and start discovering love and desire, this is what the gay ones find themselves facing. This is what haunts what should have been one of this life’s most magical times. It cuts you deep. Some people never manage to love wholeheartedly their entire lives because of it. And others search endlessly for one who can. I was looking at my Facebook stream just a moment ago and this graphic flashed on my screen and for an instant I saw certain someone’s face and relived the conversation I had with him just one week ago…
I know. And I’m so sorry…so very sorry. It is what it is. You stayed inside because you had to and I got the hell out because I had to but we are all damaged by it in one way or another. Easter they say is when Jesus of Nazareth died for their sins. So why did we have to die for their sins too? March 26th, 2015 Message In A Bottle Yes, you got an F-Bomb out of me. It was that “you think I deserve all this” crap. I was so flustered I couldn’t muster the words I needed just then. Well it made you smile anyway. Firstly, you have a pretty good job, considering what might otherwise be. Ask someone who works at some other chain restaurant how good they’ve got it. You work for a big company that gets lots of traffic into its eateries and if cheerful friendly hard working and handsome you isn’t getting way better than average tips I’m surprised. And as for what I think you deserve…damn you…you know how I feel. You saw the look on my face. Don’t you Know? I’ve always wished you the best, and all the happiness and contentment life could provide. Regardless of anything you could ever give back to me. It isn’t a transaction. If you told me to go away I would still wish you that. Always. …and I’d just keep tossing these little messages in a bottle out here, like I did for decades before I found you again. Except now you’ll know they’re here. It isn’t a transaction. March 24th, 2015 Comfort Zone I respect your comfort zone. However, don’t be reducing anyone to “acquaintance” status that you ever did a mock strip tease for in the cafeteria during an SGA meeting where nobody else but me could see it. You’re better than that.
And yes, you’re Still really good at flustering me. But that was classic. September 14th, 2014 Message In A Bottle… To whom it may concern… Thank you for giving me permission to stick to my script for A Coming Out Story as I originally wrote it. Also for some much needed motivation to get working on it again!
August 26th, 2014 Message In A Bottle… Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. Real, that.
July 21st, 2014 Message In A Bottle I really hope you’re okay. You’re like Schrodinger’s Cat sometimes, except even when you’re observed you’re still in an unknown state. I really hope you’re okay. -That Guy In Baltimore
April 19th, 2014 Message In A Bottle… …So many things I could tell you about, without breaking security. I know exactly where the lines are. Hubble, James Webb, I could talk your ears off about it and for once know that I wasn’t boring you. The starry nights are something we have in common. Something else. Why is that not surprising? Google WFIRST. I know tons of stuff…I live and breath all the stars in the sky, and the light from near the beginning of time, every day I come to work. I could tell you about it. I could see the stars reflected in your eyes. But there is never any time. Not now, not when we were kids, not ever. There will never be any time for our generation. So it goes. Maybe someday the work I do will make a difference for somebody. Some astronomer maybe. Or some other kid like the one I was once, entranced by the starry night. But not for me. I could be washing dishes for a living, and still have the stars to look up at, and no one to give them to. LG January 14th, 2014 Well…Of Course…Bavaria… All in all, I had it pretty good compared to a lot of other gay teenagers back in the day. I need to remind myself of this from time to time. It wasn’t the best, not by any means. But I never doubted that mom loved me. Even so, we had an unspoken don’t ask, don’t tell agreement almost right up to the day she died. It was okay for me to read gay novels and bring gay newspapers into the house. It was okay for me to not date girls. It was okay for me to draw sketches and take photos of beautiful guys. It was okay for me to march in gay rights protests. I just had not to say it. Sad to think, but this was actually a pretty good deal for a gay kid back in the early 1970s. But not every gay kid had that deal. Not by a long shot. And even now, for some gay kids of my generation, it will always be a time before Stonewall. Der Spiegel asks the question…
That it’s still hard for a gay kids in Bavaria even now is unsurprising. It’s…Bavaria. And it was probably a lot harder to be a gay kid in Bavaria, or from a Bavarian family, back when I was a teenager. Probably still pretty hard for those gay Bavarian kids, even now, all grown up though they may be. Impossible even.
That would be Bavaria…
And probably a lot of them have gay kids of their own. Who they love very much. Conditionally. Stay in the closet…get married…don’t disgrace your family…or we won’t love you anymore…we’ll hate you for disgracing us… Still hard for a gay kids in Bavaria even now. Probably a lot harder back when I was a teenager. Just saying. August 18th, 2013 Message In A Bottle… So, so you think you can tell
Do you think you can tell?
How I wish, how I wish you were here. -Roger Waters, David Gilmour November 3rd, 2012 Message In A Bottle Ich bin gut. Keine Schäden an meinem Haus aus dem Hurrikan. Danke für die Nachfrage. Bitte Sie wieder schreiben irgendwann vor dem Ende des Universums… oder auch nicht…
-Bruce April 11th, 2012 Message In A Bottle Every now and then, like yesterday morning I run into a fellow American who has spent time in Germany. When I tell them I want to visit there someday they all tell me I should definitely go. They always say Germany is a really great place and their time there was just wonderful. And if some of their time was spent in Bavaria, I always ask them what Bavaria is like compared to the rest of Germany. And the first thing they always say about Bavaria is that it is a Very Conservative part of Germany. Also, generally very expensive to live in. But Very Conservative is always the first thing that comes to their minds, when it comes to Bavaria. Not just conservative, but Very Conservative. So I’m guessing it would probably be hard to be a gay kid there. Or to be a gay kid whose family is from there. On the other hand, it’s hard for gay kids here in the U.S. too, in some states. The mostly rural conservative states anyway. You see a lot of them who have fled to the more liberal, tolerant states or cities to get away. But it’s hard to get away from your family. Those kids, they always have the most difficult time of it, even when they’re out and proud and living in the gay ghettos. What happens is they just learn to live with the stress of family relationships and move on with their lives. Because one way or another it’s going to be hard. Everyone who comes out of the closet does so knowing what is on the other side of that closet door. So you might as well just be yourself. You can’t please everyone. But you can be real. That’s something I learned ages ago, ironically well before I entered adolescence and found myself having to deal with being gay. See…mom’s family positively hated dad, and dad’s family. After my parents divorced when I was about two, mom moved me back across the country and I grew up here in Maryland instead of California (which I will probably go to my grave regretting except for the fact that I met you). And since I had dad’s face, I got a lot of flack growing up just for being his son. Stinking Rotten Good-For-Nothing Garrett Just Like Your Pap was grandma’s favorite name for me (where mom couldn’t hear it), even though I was a pretty well behaved kid. But I had his face, and grandma hated dad, and I was handy. So I caught the flack. And gay people catch a lot of flack too, simply because we are handy. So you see, when I turned seventeen and came out to myself I’d already had a childhood knowing that some people would hate me just for something I was and couldn’t help being. But I knew I was loved too. Mom never let me doubt that. So much as it distressed me, I just learned to live with the fact that grandma and others just didn’t like me because I was my father’s son and I would never change that, and I got on with my life. Mom loved me. I knew I was loved. I knew I could be loved. That was all I needed to grow up on. Here’s what gay people know: strangers can gay bash you, beat the living crap out of you, take your life from you, but only relatives can chew your heart up and spit it out. What we learn from it is this: your family are the people who love you just as you are. That’s the real family you have. Everyone else is just a relative. Just a fact. April 1st, 2012 Message In A Bottle “Knock, knock.” “Who’s there?” “Dead air.” “Dead air who?”
March 14th, 2012 Relatively Speaking, I Do Not Waste Postage This is mostly a growl at a certain someone who bellyaches about how I overdo the packaging of the randoms gifts I send his way, which I am posting here (and on Facebook) even though he doesn’t bother reading my blog (So He Claims) or do Facebook (So He Claims) because I just need to vent about the unfairness of it all. I do not overpack and thereby “waste postage” as has been claimed. So I bought two (count ’em) +1 diopters for my Nikon SLRs to replace one I lost at Disney World a few weeks ago. If you’ve never seen a diopter for the old all mechanical film SLRs they’re about the size of a dime and they correct for…er…older eyes. Nikon diopters, unlike the Canon diopters apparently, have this tendency to unscrew themselves and drop off the eyepiece. If you’re lucky you hear the delicate little ‘clink’ as it hits the pavement and if you’re not you just walk blithely on without realizing you’re walking away from a piece of hardware that nobody makes anymore and is hard-to-find on the used market without which you will have serious difficulty seeing and focusing on your subjects. So I was lucky enough to find and buy two (count ’em) more +1 diopters for my Nikons. I bought them both at the same time from the same online company. They came in separate packages, one of which was a small bubble pack envelope which was about right for something the size of an SLR diopter. The other one came packaged as follows… Now stop complaining about how I pack things. In the grand scheme of things I am actually very sensible about how I pack gifts I’d like my friends to have. Particularly when it’s breakable…like a couple of latte mugs. I appreciate and share your waste not, want not attitude, (though probably not to the degree a German would) but if you’d opened a box from me that was full of broken glass you might have gotten the wrong impression. April 13th, 2011 Message In A Bottle “The lover is a monotheist who knows that other people worship different gods I thought loving someone deeply, strongly, absolutely, I’d finally understand how it might feel to be jealous. Instead I discovered how incomprehensible jealously is. It makes no sense. How can everyone not love you?
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