So here is the deal, I just arrived home, from my escapade into the hinterlands of West Hollywood, a gay Mecca of sorts with tons of neon lights, and perhaps some of the hottest men and women this nation can offer. It is about 10:10 Pacific Coast Time, Sunday night. By now, on a usual Sunday evening Joe and I would-be lying-in bed wondering when we became our parents and discovered that staying up later than 9:30 was such an effort. But two things happened today for me, which in turn has me writing this blog NOW, at the ungodly hour of, now as I look at the clock on my computer reads 10:13. The first thing was a wonderful meeting with two people who provided me with direction and positive support with my manuscript, my first novel. Feeling confident in the creation of the novel, I have run into real life issues, which at first seemed insurmountable, but as is usually the case, not done deals sealed in a cement vault which once closed can never be opened. In other words, they provided me with insight and information by which I can find a group of people to read my manuscript, not worrying so much about the grammar or sentence structure but reading my book to let me know that I am a storyteller, and I have a story to tell! The second thing was, that Joe is visiting his family for Easter, and I actually journeyed into the land of perpetual 21, no wrinkles, lots of muscle, and drop dead gorgeous…something not necessary, when I have the hottest of men at home and the man of my dreams. But I felt a bit tipsy, I actually had two mojitos and felt daring enough to permit my almost 70-year-old body, which the right half, my shoulder and triceps are half the size as my left, but happy enough with the news that I might still become an author, overriding to let me think maybe I am not INVISIBLE…and in West Hollywood being INVISIBLE is a common enemy of the average, non-steroidal, non HGH Gay man. I chose the Abby, which of course IS the top of the chain of total façade hot, and I had one gin and tonic, placed my pretend all is a good smile on my face, and was, of course, INVISIBLE, except for three maybe 21-year-old young boys, who had daddy issues.
But all of this first blog, there will be two others to follow, is about my walk home from the Abby. I took Santa Monica Blvd, which is home to the WEHO downtown and at least a dozen Gay bars. As I walked home, still a bit tipsy, I realized that I was walking home in a two-dimensional world. All around me were beautiful people, wearing beautiful expensive tee-shirts and jeans, and all around me were the homeless settling in for the night, almost checking into their hotel accommodations, on the porches of stores, the alleyways between building, or just setting up tents in front of some very expensive shops. There was the great and the gritty, the beauty and the beast. And then it hit me as IT usually does when I think I CAN NOT fix this world. What the fuck is being INVISIBLE anyway. So no one cruised me or looked at me or even made my ego shine a bit…who the fuck gives a damn…honestly…cause if you really DO NOT SEE the POVERTY, HOMELESSNESS, DIRE NEED TO JUST SURVIVE THE NEXT DAY, that is true INVISIBILITY!
So, screw me, with my tight jeans and almost tight tee-shirt, cause the right side looks good, but the left side looks like I am carrying a twin that died at birth. REAL LIFE is what is important to see, and somehow we remain INVISIBLE! End of Part One.
