Thursday, August 25, 2016

One Last trip to the cabin

I remember when Will came out a gay across the pulpit in church.   I think the room was silent for 15 seconds, the congregation  stunned that this all American boy was homosexual, and Will, like an astronaut taking his first step onto the lunar surface, in a  new place, and he wasn't sure how to react.

I caught up with Will after the meeting, he was surrounded by well wishers, which no one thought was odd, but should have been, seeing what was normally taught across the pulpit.   There was a dissonance there, that couldn't stop our love for him, but would never leave him.

Our pastor compared Will's situation to a paraplegic in a wheel chair.  He sees others having fun, living life, but he can't get up and run.   The irony was not lost on my.   We asked Will to sit in that chair.   We told him he could not get out.   Why should we be surprised what happened when he did.

The drive to Will's family's cabin was long, and simplifying.  We started on a 8 lane high way, gradually it became four, then two.   Asphalt gave way to gravel.  An old cattle gate kept hunters and ATV's out.

Will was hot and cold as usual.   One minute he had us, Ryan, Josh and I, rolling in laughter, then he'd retreat into his deep sunk eyes.   I don't know if he spent more time in virtual isolation than normal that trip.  If he did, I didn't notice.  It was just normal for him.  Hot and cold.  Prone to outlandish humor with a waiter, and then stuttering when you asked him to change the radio.

But he always planned great adventures.

It was our last trip before school started and tests, and studying and girls,   For the three of us at least,  I hadn't seen Will date, boys or girls. But he was a great bro, always down for adventure, and sports.  I think he thought that would be enough.  I think we all though it would help him in his unique situation.

"Welcome to the Brohaus," Will exclaimed as we pulled into the wooded lot, that bordered the lake.  "No jobs, no school, no women, am I right?"

We all agreed and got to the work of emptying the old ford bronco that had been our loyal steed on the journey thus far.

Later that night, the campfire was roaring, the Dutch oven was empty save the crumbs of cobbler still clinging to the side, Will disappeared for a bit, as he was wont to do.

I think he was down by the lake for 30 minutes are so, as the three of us found more and more things to burn.

"Hey, guys, Check this out."

Will brought a large jug.

"Is that what I think it is?  Josh said.

"Oh my gosh, you brought the root beer.   I love it when you make this stuff"

"Yep, Drink up.  No one can go to bed before we drink this all." Will said.

"Dude' we'll be peeing all night"

"You know the window in the bedroom opens right?"

"Haha ok cool."

And the imbibing began, as much as some tee totaling Christians can imbibe.  it was a great batch.  Enough anise, molasses and honey to both have the bite and be sweet.

I blacked out.  I don't remember what happened next.  Ryan was still able to see, even though most of what he was was blurry, like a dream.

None of the three of us could move.  Will moved around with precision.  He drug us into the house, and lay us all in the beds.  Ryan said he stared at us for what seemed like hours, but in his state of numbness he couldn't be sure.

Will said things, to us.  Ryan couldn't understand it.  Several teams Will would walk up, and stand right by someone on the bed.  And just stare.

Ryan blacked out.

We came to the next day, I had the worst headache ever.  Ryan told us what he had seen.   We never saw will again.    Someone, most likely him had taken an ax to the living room and kitchen, wrecking the place.  The Ford was still in the parking lot.  We looked for him for hours.  Then his family, the congregation, and many volunteers.

I don't know what happened to my friend Will.   I like to think got up from the chair and walked away to some happiness.  But part of me thinks we'd find him at the bottom of the lake, still resting in the chair.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016


Scorched desert,  dried cracked land,  pale skeletons the former plant life roll on by, pushed by a dry, lip-cracking wind.

I slowly lurch along an uknown path.   Maybe I’m going further from help, but staying here is certain death.

How many have fallen on this hell floor.   How many have succumbed to it’s inferno after their bodies have given their last moisture to the immortal fire in the sky

I see them now.   Circling.   The direbird.  Harbingers of hopelessness.   This desert cannot take your life.   You must give it.

The Birds come when they know you have lost.  How many hours have I looked at the unchanging horizon.   No mountains,   no bumps, no changing,  just heat, and dust, and cracking skin, and dried blood.

Why do I keep moving.

They will say I gave up.   But what if I just chose to end the pain.

And so I bare my chest to the vultures above, and let them have me.

Str8 Fri3nds

His eyes light up in the comic book store.  “Come here Give me a hug.”  My friend, comic book guy, is pretty legit.   I go to read comics and buy them, but also saying hi to him is a cool side benefit.

Some days he wants to hug me.  Some days he doesn’t. 

He always initiates.  He is straight after all.   I have allowed all my straight relationships form with them taking the lead on stuff like that.   They know I’m gay.   I worry I’ll be “too gay” if I go in for a hug.  I worry their wives will freak out.  Yeah, I know I have issues.

I hate how I feel like I can’t trust myself with friends.   Not in a “gonna kiss them all night while they protest” type way.  But how I can’t trust myself to not go full on crush on them.   I hate how it flavors all my straight friendships.   I don’t blame them.  If anyone is to blame it’s me for worrying about it so much.

It’s like, I want more closeness in it then they do.  So I always just take what they can give.  Always watching, always being careful to not freak them, or their wives out.

And I do have good friendships.  But my damn gayness leaves me unfulfilled.