Falling for Autumn
It has been extremely cold lately. The cold fronts, Santa Ana winds, etc...I don't care what the reasons are; it's just been cold. I pulled out my jackets from the top shelf and lined up my scarves...winter is here. And for the last couple of days I've been battling a cold/flu/cough that has made my days somewhat difficult. I woke up before dawn, covered with three thick blankets, wearing a thick sweat suit (socks included) drenched in sweat and coughing up bullets. I went downstairs to the kitchen and heated up my half-finished tea from hours before. On my way down to the kitchen, I hit my left leg with a misplaced chair before I could turn on the lights. I was coughing and now my leg was in pain. I swore. After I heated up my tea, I saw some honey and I remembered reading earlier online that a new study shows that honey works better than most cough suppressants. I drank my hot tea and ate half a cup of honey. Some minutes later, I was able to sleep again like a baby. However, it is at those late hours (or early hours) in the middle of the night that some thoughts occur in my mind. What is life all about? Are there ghosts? What if I die? God, can you hear me? Oh man, I hate those non-rethoric and answerless moments! Thank God, this lasted only for about half an hour (an eternity at 3:00 AM) and I fell asleep again.
I woke up late, as has been the norm lately. I rushed to the shower and got ready to work. Why do I have to go to work? I felt like I wanted to throw a tantrum like when kids don't want to go to school. Then, I remembered that my childhood tantrums usually happened when I'd find out that I had missed school. One time I cried my eyes dried until my mom explained to me that on Saturdays you do not go to school. Only then I stopped crying. I always feared missing class because I did not want to fall behind the other kids. This time however, I would have paid for getting the guts to ask my boss for the day off and fall behind all the paperwork at the office. But, my vacation is coming up and the year is almost over, so I'll get paid those unused sick days. – "$$$" – In addition, I did not consider it to be very professional on my part to ask for another day off. In the last month I took a day and a half off to take my mom to her doctor's appointments. A small bump showed up on her breast and we all feared the worst. We waited about two weeks in agony for the results. We all tried to put it in the backburner and not think about it. But, it was hard not to. Finally, the doctors agreed that it was a benign cyst and that it might not need to be removed surgically. Some medicine might just be able to do the job. We all were relieved and extremely glad to know this. This gave us another reason to be grateful on Thanksgiving. Now, she has to go back next month, hopefully more good news continues to pour. But, this prompted some questions in my mind: Why do people have to die? What is the purpose of death? Is this pain really essential for one's development as a person? Mortality is just a sobering concept to grasp, for oneself, but especially when it deals with those we love.
I ironed some clothes that I envisioned pairing while showering: a pair of dressed-up khakis from Banana Republic, a generic white polo shirt I bought at Robinson's May or at Macy's (makes no difference), a hooded navy blue zip-up sweater with thin, white stripes from French Connection and my light washed Hollister jean jacket. Not exactly the office attire, so I donned a light gray scarf with the Express logo in black at the end and my light brown dress shoes: Too much? Maybe, but I looked good! Why do I go in all this detail? I don't know, maybe it's a gay thing. Maybe I just like typing a lot. LOL! However, in my defense I must state that I got everything on sale! Lastly, I brushed my hair, prepared some oatmeal, took my vitamins and watched the summary of the news. Then, I just grabbed my Iphone, earphones and headed to work. While I was walking the six blocks to work I remembered about the money I have to give the mechanic to fix the car. I also remembered that I have to go to the doctor on Friday and that I did not study last night for my Final examination coming up in two days. We already started the day with a negative score!!!
Last night, I had planned to go studying at the regular Starbucks at the corner of Vermont and Hollywood in Hollywood. I would get my regular hot chocolate, no whipped cream and non-fat milk. Then, I would read for hours. However, there was a surprise dinner I was not aware of. A friend, who happens to be the person who leads the support group I attend, was celebrating his birthday this same night. He called me to invite me to the dinner that he and his partner would be having at their house. He has gone the extra mile to help me more than once, so obviously I did not feel obligated to go, I really wanted to be there. So after work, I went home and looked for one of those birthday cards I keep stored for situations like this. I found a gift bag for his gift and I headed to his house. It was so much fun. A lot of people showed up. We drank and ate a lot. Unfortunately, I did not think it would affect me to drink iced cold margaritas. Then, when I woke up coughing in the middle of the night the following day, I wanted to shoot myself for not stopping me. But, anyway, they were good!!! Lots of laughs, lots of love, many, many pictures! I'm glad I attended. What is the difference between a gay household and a traditional one? Is it the décor? Is it the apparent freedom to feel and act outside the common norms? Is it because it represents the door to an apparent non-existent land? Or is it because it makes a stand for what all gay people secretly want? Whatever the case, it was the reason I stayed up late and drank cold drinks when I should have been sipping hot drinks and studying.
Today I've worked hardly, or hardly worked…. It is just semantics. Now, I have to head home, change and then go to Starbucks to get ready for Finals. Oh, college… a land of knowledge and dreams as well as stress and nightmares of mine!
Summer Time
The summer came and went. The year’s end is just around the corner and thankfully I’m still around, living in this city of angels. It has been a while since I last sat down to record my thoughts on this crazy life of mine. On July my grandmother’s birthday coincided, as it does every year, with the U.S. Independence Day. We jokingly proclaim that the entire nation stops to observe the day my grandmother came to be. As I hugged her while watching the fireworks at the park near her house, I felt the strange need to be a kid again and to drag her to the market to buy me a toy. It brought a bittersweet feeling to see my oak-tree a little bit older and somewhat tired. However, her determination to continue to live and to give is more than inspiring. At her 72 years she has been through a lot, she has seen a world war, a couple of economic crisis, she moved to a different country, lost large amount of land and properties in Mexico when her mom passed away (my grandmother was 5 yrs old), she also dealt with a cheating husband, raised three kids by herself and now takes the time to spoil her grandchildren and her newly born great granddaughter. I love her so much. I pray that God grants me many more years with her.
But, where have the months gone? The summer quarter at school just flew. When I least noticed it, it was Finals time. I’m a step closer to graduating and that just gives me the energy I need to continue pushing till the end. What is this all about? Is it really worth the effort? Those are just rhetoric questions; of course I know the answers. It is just that at times it seems too hard. But my fear is that in a couple of years, it will be much harder to live a life not having gone through this to finish school.
So much happens in such a short amount of time. It is interesting to see how life just moves and keeps moving. I have attended weddings of a couple of friends. I have welcomed new lives to this world, one in my very own family. I have seen young men, who just a couple of years ago were still playing in the mud as children. Life just passes by. Time does not forgive. I’m glad I get to see this. I’m glad I get to take notice to make the best of it. Truly a day is worth gold if one takes into consideration the value of every second. Every moment is priceless because it won’t come back. The time I have spent with my family and friends has changed significantly. I hope it just gets better.
The toughest blow to ones life is the one that comes from inside. It’s the one that mutates and changes from love to fear, from fear to doubt, from doubt to indifference and from indifference to nothing right before your very eyes. The relationship with “E” followed that pattern. He was diagnosed HIV+ only to be told 24hrs later that it was a clinic’s mistake: He’s still HIV negative. Those 24 hours brought upon me the heaviest burden I had felt, even heavier than my own diagnosis. To see someone come to grips to such news is something I do not want to see again. Even though it was all cleared-up a day after, those hours brought up guilt on my part and hopelessness on his. I literally saw him dying in a couple of minutes. His life was destroyed, his hopes seemed unattainable to him anymore. To him it was the end. This hurt me not only because I was the “apparent” direct cause of this harm, but also because it gave me a glimpse into what he thought of my situation – which did not cleared-up in 24 hours and I have to live with daily. It was a blow, I don’t know if to the heart, to my gut or to my brain. Either way, it hurt like hell. It still hurts. It’s been about four months and though time has been my aide on this challenge, it itself is taking its time to do it. Only God knows why. I don’t ask for an answer. I don’t need them anymore. I guess because I know they might not come during my lifetime. So I just continue to move on and see what the next day will bring my way.
And so the summer ended. The sun slowly gives way to early sunsets and the coldness of the fall, meaningless as it might be when compared to the East coast, shows us the never-ending cycle of time. Half a year has passed. It’s all good. I’m still here… and of course I’m still queer.
3...2...1... SUMMER is HERE!!!!!!
What is one to do when the summer is just beginning and your vacation is just ending? Well, to make the best of it … would seem the best answer! The bright colors and the linen pants are virtually everywhere ... good choice considering the rising temperature. As for me, school starts this week. Another ten weeks of heavy reading and long nights at Starbucks cramming for tests. So much fun!! This past couple of weeks I decided to use my nights and weekends doing as much as possible to prepare myself for the next ten weeks of exile from the “normal” world: I went out and try to enjoy what this gorgeous city has to offer.
I was often at the movies. I went to Universal Studios City Walk to watch Shrek the Third. It was just as hilarious as the previous installments. I love the baby-shower part and the increased screen time for the other characters: Cinderella, Snow White…etc. I was there with E. We ate at Café Tu Tu Tango. The chicken empanadas were delicious! Then we walked around City Walk and did some souvenir shopping. We got tickets for the last show 11:50 PM, so we left the place at around 2:00 AM. It was a very fun movie, definitely worth the staying up late. We also went to see 28 Weeks Later at Santa Monica’s 3rd Street Promenade. This movie was just as intense, if not more, than the first one. We walked around the promenade and got some French crêpes with some Starbucks hot chocolate. E and I also watched Knocked up at the Northridge Mall in the San Fernando Valley. This movie was just extremely hilarious. Probably not a good date movie, if your date is a woman. But, since I do not have that problem we had a blast. Man, guy-movies are so much fun. We got some food at Applebee’s, and then called it a night. We watched a low-key movie called Fracture. Even though E and my other friend fell asleep, I liked the movie. I also went with my family to watch Fantastic Four’s Rise of the Silver Surfer. My brothers are fans of any comic flick.
I went to enjoy an Opera with some co-workers. It was a very much-advertised Placido Domingo’s opera called Luisa Fernanda. It was entirely in Spanish and the performers did a great job. I loved it, especially the ending. It leaves you speculating on the end result of Luisa’s choice. The event took place at LA’s Opera house, The Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, in the heart of Downtown. It is always fun and refreshing to walk around these streets and getting some drinks on its outdoor bars. I also went with my coworkers to this chic place in Downtown called J-Lounge. It is really nice. The best part besides its Mango-Mojitos and its cabañas, is that as the evening approaches and it starts getting darker, the Downtown skyline shines in the background contrasting with the patio heaters’ light creating a very inviting atmosphere. It was fun. Maybe I drank a little bit too much … but nothing to feel ashamed about
E and I also took a trip to Santa Barbara. We ate, shopped and had a great time. This city seems to have stopped in time. It’s calm streets and yet lively pubs are a fun contrast. We sat at the pier and talked, and talked and talked … well, he did most all the talking. I also took the opportunity of taking my dog (a rottwailer out for a walk out in the nice SoCal weather after a visit to the Vet.
So, school is beginning. No free summer for me. But, at this point I feel I’m ready to hit the books. Besides I have the 4th of July long weekend and a week off from work during the summer. Movies, Opera, Chic restaurants and bars, beaches, parks, cafes and retail stores… you gotta love Southern California.
Remembering is Memorial Day
It is an unfortunate truth that the very same reason why we have a memorial day in the United States is the very same reason why many in this great nation do not know what it stands for. The fact that we can go around and sit down at some Starbucks and order a seemingly complicated drink while we use the shop’s Wi-Fi to chat, play games and check one’s emails while half a world away our troops are constantly dying is almost hard to grasp. I want to clearly state that I’m not implying that the reason our troops are in Iraq is what keeps us safe here in the States. What I am saying is that due to the many previous military actions (including External Wars & the Civil War) have laid the comfortable foundation we now stand on. It has taken many lives - most of them personally volunteered ones - to defend the liberties of this land. Memorial Day stands to remember the lives of those who have courageously stood up when the nation needed them, or when the nation’s leaders decided to send them as is the case in Iraq. Now, we take this holiday as an excuse to not work, to rest, to barbecue, to take advantage of the many, many sales created by the retail industry. We do everything but remember why we are able to do all these things in the first place while in other nations, these very same things we take for granted are but distant dreams or mere illusions.
I am just as guilty. This past Memorial-Day weekend I took Friday off from work – I thought it would be great to enjoy a four-day weekend. I woke up early and headed to the bank to withdraw money. Then I went to pay my tuition at school -- apparently VISA is only welcomed to set booths to lure students on campus, but not to pay for classes. After that I headed to the gym, made an appointment for a Swiss massage at the Spa, worked out and had lunch at the very healthy-conscious California Crisp in Downtown L.A. After a good lunch I went to pick up my meds at the Rite Aid across the street from the gym, picked up my clothes from the dry cleaners and drove back home. I took a shower and then watched some T.V. I put some clothes on and headed out to my boyfriend’s home. I arrived around 3:30 PM. We headed to Santa Barbara. We put some very expensive, and ever increasing, gasoline on the car, bought some chips, water and chatted while listening to music from the Ipod connected to the car. About an hour an half later, we arrived at Santa Barbara. We were hungry so we walked on State Street and ate at the closest restaurant: the California Pizza Kitchen at the Paseo Nuevo Center. We walked around and did some shopping. Then, we headed towards the pier and while stopping at some bars to enjoy the different entertainment.
Then, right at the beginning of the pier something happened that caught me off guard. There was a man, apparently homeless, begging for money next to a statue of sand. The statue was that of two dead/wounded soldiers. The man claimed he sculpted them and was asking for money to take a picture of it. We gave him some bills and snapped a photo. As we walked towards the end of the pier, I kept on thinking about the sand soldiers and what they were representing, especially this weekend. That’s when it hit me. I was able to enjoy this sunny weekend in this beautiful Californian land with all its perks because of the many men and women who have fought, risked and even given their lives for our American Dream. I wonder how many more people thought about it. Well, I know who did not: Nicole Richie. Her infamous email-invite to her Memorial Day party explicitly, even though it might have been only as a joke, revealed that many, including the rich & famous who receive such great benefits from this nation, “have no fucking clue what Memorial Day really means.” I really hope things change and we learn to value what we have. I hope that our arrogance will not get the best of us and that we won’t need another tragedy to value our past. I hope we can value it so we can enjoy our present and secure our future. May I never forget … may we never forget, that we are very fortunate to live in America – and may I constantly remember those heroes whether or not it’s Memorial Day.
Una Flor ... Rosa: Mi Madre
Mi madre … how to describe her? How to put into words what she means to me? I do not think there is a word that can compile all the feelings and emotions that she causes me to feel. My mom is a true fountain of hope. A hardworking woman who has endured years of selflessness to care and help nurture a family. She’s a great listener. She does talk a lot, and in excess at times, but she knows how to listen as well and make you feel that there is nothing as important as you at that moment. My mom and my dad have had great times as well as their fair share of awful ones. As a marriage that began for her at the age of 16, it is almost unbelievable to see it still standing in these modern times.
It is often interesting to see how a mother can quickly and shrewdly change just as a chameleon in order to understand and tend to her very different children. My mother can easily be the MTV TR3S mom for my youngest brother. She knows what and who RTL, Road Rules, TiVo, PSP, Justin Timberlake, 50 Cent and other anglo celebrities are. She is in tune with what he likes and what he doesn’t like. It is extremely obvious by her choices when buying gifts and greeting cards for him, as well as when helping someone encourage her youngest son. My mom also becomes a romance guru in order to help my other brother with his endless arguments within his tumultuous relationships. She is there to guide him, admonish him and unexpectedly unbiased advice him on the subject of love.
As in my case, my mom is the gay-friendly mom. She knows exactly what to ask and what not to ask. I understand it must be tough to hear certain aspects of the gay lifestyle, so I spare her the details. I can sense sometimes when what I share is becoming too much, so I try to change the subject and/or tone it down a little bit. She keeps me on my toes in regards to my doctor’s appointments and constantly asks me about my lab results. She has learned to manage these new areas of my life very well. She also talks to me about her life, her goals, her fears and secrets. She goes shopping with me and does not hesitate to ask me for my input on style, even when choosing lingerie. It is funny, but extremely comforting to know I have her full support. We work out together and watch chick flicks. I sometimes think I am the daughter she never had :)
A couple of weeks ago right after we took her out to Cielito Lindo for dinner and to listen to El Mariachi Sol de Mexico to celebrate Mother’s Day I asked her, in a jokingly kind of way: “Mom, what am I going to do with my life??” She replied: “What you have to do is find someone, get married and adopt some kids.” I was speechless. She did not say to get wife. She said to find someone. And she did not say to have kids, but instead to adopt kids. I have no idea how difficult it must have been to get to this point and utter those words. However, I felt a great sense of comfort by knowing that my mom is accepting me for who I am, whether or not her preconceived ideas and religious beliefs accept and respect my choice of lifestyle. She’s my mom and she’s got my back and I thank God for that!!!
Love in the Time of HIV
As an HIV + person, what is the worst case scenario in the love arena? Is it being rejected for being the carrier of a serious and stigmatic virus? Is it being accepted and loved - - for who one is and not for what one carries in one’s circulatory system - - and constantly fearing to not infect he who so selflessly loves you?
It’s a catch 22: damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
I met “E” this past New Year’s Eve. He was part of a crowd at a party I had no initial intention to attend. However, after that night, I was so glad I did. We hit it off right away. We shared a lot of the same hardcore values and points of view about life. He is younger than me, but not that big of a difference. I was the guest at the party, so I decided to not get carried away and just went along with the flow. We all ate, drank, sang, danced and laughed. Oh, did we laugh! At the end, right before “E” left the party, he asked for my phone number. I gave it to him. He claimed he did not have a phone number and that’s why he could not give it to me. I did not make much of it and continued socializing at the party.
The days went by and no call. I continued to not make much of it. I usually never get my hopes up so quickly. I just thought I should leave it as part of a good time I had at New Year’s. Then came a birthday party I was invited to by one of the guys at the same New Year’s gathering. I could not attend, but a friend who did go bumped into “E” and told me he was asking about me. Again, I tried to not make much of it -- despite the fact that I was interested to find out what he had asked and what else he had said about me -- so I just changed the subject. At the end my friend told me that there would be another gathering right after Valentine’s and that I was invited. It was still a couple of weeks away, so I told him that I would let him know. A couple of days before the party, my friend bumped into “E” again and he asked him if I was going to be attending the party. After hearing this I couldn’t help but to let my mind run with it. It didn’t help that my friend was doing everything in his power to get my hopes up. The party came and I got dressed for it. We arrived at the party and there was no sign of “E”, finally two hours later he showed up. We made small talk at first and then he explained that he had lost my number. He asked for it again, and this time he gave me his number. We talked some more and danced the night away.
We kept in touch throughout the week and I invited him to a party that I was going to attend. He accepted it and we had a lot of fun. During the following days we went to the movies and to have lunch. At this point I felt the need to be honest with him about my HIV status. We had been talking a lot lately and I had noticed his interest in me, so I felt the urgent need to lay everything out on the table before moving forward. Needless to say he was shocked, but decided to not let this fact be an obstacle. At that moment we made it official and we kissed.
Months have gone by since that first kiss. We’ve gone through ups and downs. He continually asks me about my doctors appointments and keeps me on check about my meds, not that I need it: but I like the fact that he is concerned. We’ve had great times and some difficult ones, too but the virus has never been an issue. That was until one of the toughest days arrived in our lives. It all happened when I noticed I had a cut on my leg and I had blood on my boxers. This happened one morning after we had slept together. I was in the shower and I was scared. I did not know how to bring this up to him. I did not know how he was going to take it. I did not even know if he had been in actual contact with my blood. And I did not know if just that contact would have been enough to get him infected. I was sweating bullets. When I came out of the shower I sat down on the bed and I pulled him close to me and told him. He was scared too. I felt so strange. I felt so bad. The last thing I wanted was for him to get infected. It is a very strange feeling to know you can cause harm to someone who you care so much about. He did not act differently towards me. We still went out and had breakfast. He kissed me before I dropped him off back at his house. After this I started calling people that I knew could give me some answers. Unfortunately, I could not get any response until three hours later. They told me that in order for him to have gotten infected that way, he needed to have had a deep cut that would have taken my blood into his circulatory system; which fortunately had not been the case. This was confirmed two more times by a specialist and an HIV counselor. I immediately texted-message “E” at work and briefly told him my findings. He called me later and we talked about it.
The rest of the day I just kept on thinking if I wanted to continue with this relationship. I knew I did not want to cause any harm on his life. When I brought this question to him, he left it up to me. He said he had no problem with it, as long as we were careful. He said he wanted to continue going out with me. So we did, and we are. I pray and hope that I never have to face this situation again. We are taking every precaution and we are being very careful to make sure he remains negative. It is difficult when I sit down and think about it – when I consider all the worst-case scenarios. However, he is really good at keeping me at ease and at making me feel that love and care are stronger and a great aid in the time of HIV.
Dia del Niño
It was a long time ago, about ten years, that I realized how good children do have it: they get up, eat, play, eat again, play some more, sleep and do the same thing all over again the following day. However, it is until now that as I reminisce on the years already gone, I wish to go back. This morning as I woke up and went about my daily routine -- take a shower while listening to Latino 96.3 FM, trying different sets of clothes while watching Primero Noticias on Galavision, shaving, fixing my hair and lastly eating breakfast while listening to my horoscope and the yoga motto of the day -- I listened to the news correspondent from Mexico talk about El dia del Niño, Children’s Day, and I remembered how I used to celebrate those days back in Mexico. Man, to be a kid again! I remember that my parents, uncles and/or grandmothers would get us toys and we would go out and play ... obviously showing off our new toys. I remember playing with my Thundercats and He-Man action figures, my marbles, my big aluminum airplane, my jeep truck, my wrestlers, my hotwheels and my playmobile toys. I know where my toys are, I know where most of them ended up ... but where did the kid that used to play with them end up? What happens to us as we grow up? Is that kid really gone for ever, if he is not as I suspect, then why do I miss him? How do I get in touch with him and how do I bring that natural joy show up more often? Oh, to be a kid again.
Mi Viejo
Every year the beginning of the spring season coincides with my dad’s birthday. The birds begin to sing again, the horny rabbits begin to look for a mate again, the flowers begin to bloom facing the ever aging sun and the butcher at the meat department knows that my family will be buying carne asada by the ton for my dad’s birthday. However, this year we left the butcher a little disappointed. We did not buy carne asada by the ton. In fact, we did not buy carne asada at all. A small, well-decorated cake – in the colors and stamp of my dad’s favorite Mexican soccer team: Club America – stood in the middle of the table with a few lit candles. The Sunday soccer match on the TV in the background a long with the noises of the extended family members trying to go and come inside the house made it seem a regular weekend gathering. Some unexpected spending left us with very little money to throw a party, but we did manage to make a nice meal and a cake.
My dad at 47 is still in great physical shape, plays soccer, runs on the treadmill and lifts weights. Es un buen tipo mi viejo = he is a good guy my old man, as the song goes. Maybe not so old for a man with a 26 year old son! I am extremely proud of my dad. He had the responsibility to care for a family at the age of 19 and with his share of mistakes he has been able to pull it off. I see him and I see strength and resilience. I see faith and I see courage. I see my dad. I have seen my dad fight for his marriage, for his family, for his faith, for what is dear to him. I have great memories of him from when I was growing up. I remember seeing him play soccer and be extremely proud to know he was my dad. He was always a tough guy and I always felt safe when he was around. For some reason, I knew that nothing bad was going to happen to my family as long as my dad was around. When he left Mexico to come to the USA, I was constantly worried about my mom’s safety, my brother’s well being as well as my own. But all those worries disappeared as soon as I saw him cross the door. I was finally able to sleep well again.
Now as an adult, I see my dad and I admire his desire to see his family prosper. I understand many of the past disciplinary actions, times I was grounded and the not forgotten advice given. My dad is not perfect, but he has definitely tried hard to accomplish what every man in this world should aim to: live up to the tough calling of being a MAN. As a gay man, I feel grateful to know I’ve got a good example to follow. I feel I’ve got my dad backing me up, and just as I did when I was little… as long as he is close I have a feeling that things will be fine. May God grant me a share of my dad’s character to make it through till the end of my days and be able to provide the same kind of support and protection my dad has given his family.
On Picking Fruit @ Gay Middle Age
As a HIV+ gay male, I couldn’t avoid feeling a natural connection with Curtis, the main Character of Arthur Wooten’s novel: On Picking Fruit. Curtis at 45 and HIV+ is still in search for his Mr. Right. However, there seem to be a lot of other issues – in his subconscious – for his inability to make a relationship last or to pick a “descent” man for that matter. In a hilarious tone, Arthur presents Curtis life, as well as, his sad and sometimes humiliating instances when he finds himself on a date. Curtis’ insecurities and flaws are so well described that one cannot help but to relate to this man’s drama. His psychologist brings him forward, or rather forces him to face certain parts of his life that he has been avoiding since childhood. His eccentric mother and best friend add a true “you-cannot-make-this-shit-up” flavor to the story.
This is not the first time I hear about single middle-aged gay men and their difficulties in the area of love. Many give up. Many, who can afford it, find it better to pay for someone’s “company.” At times I just do not know what to think. In all honesty, at times it is hard to not pass judgment on them. At “twenty-something” this is a very trivial and sometimes alien concept. Thus, I’m glad that these kinds of books are being written and available for young men like me to sort of understand and better prepare for the future. Despite the common knowledge that youth is fleeting, I know many who do not think so, or rather prefer to not think about it at all. If people’s honest tales of their adventures, mistakes and triumphs – as the ones this book claims to be based on – can help others at least be aware of the purposely avoided concept of gay aging, we should be grateful and embrace such works.
This book was funny, touching, but above all it was a window into a world that is only a couple of years (about 20) ahead of my time.
Cielo Dividido - Gay Love Without Words
Gay love without words seems to be the theme of Cielos Divididos (Broken Sky) a movie by Julian Hernandez. Very small dialogue and an intense display of emotions on the screen is what awaited me inside the theater. The story in itself did not seem uncommon: boy-A meets boy-B, boy-A falls in love with boy-B, boy-A meets boy-C, boy-A distances himself from boy-B because of boy-C, boy-A regrets (kind of late) pushing away boy-B and finally pushed-away boy-B meets and falls for boy-D. However, the lack of dialogue is what gives this movie an edge. It leaves all the weight on the actors’ shoulders and the young men - surprisingly - deliver. It is a long and repetitive movie in many instances, but without any dialogue to rely upon, in the end it seems that these repetitions are needed to help the audience feel the characters, understand the script and follow the story.
Inside a packed theater at the edge of LA’s Mecca of the gay community – West Hollywood – I would have been surprised if I was the only one leaving the theater feeling touched, in some way, by the film’s plot. The other three friends that attended the film with me liked it and saw it somewhat differently from each other. I guess when there aren’t any words confirming or denying what one thinks is happening, our brains work overtime to fill in the blanks. The plot itself was not complicated, but the little nuances (left by the lack of dialogue) in the three main characters left lots of room to think. The entire movie was filmed in Mexico City, mostly in the UNAM university campus. Thus giving a glimpse of Mexico City’s gay world and depicting it as very acceptable by society.
I could not help but to think that this film was a reflection of a sad truth within the community. The lack of strong ties – forced or whatnot – such as children, marriage, in addition to closeted lives and a judgmental society make it easier to undervalue one’s relationship. The two young men’s relationship is suddenly shaken by the inopportune appearance of a third man. Even though there was no sexual encounter with this third man, the infatuation that is created eventually ends their relationship. It was unavoidable to wonder what I would do if I was in this situation: as one falling for someone else besides my partner or as being the one pushed away because my partner fell for someone else. And just as the film there was very little dialogue on my part in regards to these questions. There isn’t much to control here once the chemicals in the brain wear off. Is every gay relationship destined to end like this? I know for a fact that this is not like that. There are many that do last. How does one make it last? Where are those "gay-partner" counseling sessions ... do they even exist? Who has the secret to a successful "partnership" and why is he/she not sharing it with the rest of the community? I just hope that when I’m ready to settle down, I'm humble enough to seek help so that in turn my relationship will be like one of those many that do last.
