Sunday, February 29, 2004
Ow. Oh. So. Tired. I've been on campus since 9 AM today. Cue to cue for shows sucks. Only one more hour of work.
Also, I was at a party last night and decided that I really need to avoid the straight world as much as possible. When I announced to a friend that we were hunting boys, I got several suspicious looks from several suspicious straight boys. I was shocked! Shocked, I tell you.
Thursday, February 26, 2004
I won't have time to continue to Saturday right now - I have to watch the run of the show that I'm working on. But in the meantime, enjoy Wonkette on the Federal No Ass-Fucking Amendment.
Also, the wit and wisdom of Jean Bethke Elshtain. On Anti-Semitism: "It's kind of like a Wizard of Oz-style philsophy."
On Lutheran confirmation: "They used to have a confirmation. They probably got rid of it, since they're very touchy-feely, like everything else is nowadays."
Wednesday, February 25, 2004
I have been back in the straight world for almost three days now, and I'm not sure that I like it. My gay enclave weekend was pretty fabulous and I want to retreat back into it. Maybe that makes me a separatist, but you know what? My idea of a good time at the gym does not involve sweaty U of C football players yelling encouragingly at each other from across the gym. No sireeeeeee...I want to do my benching in peace (perhaps while singing selections from Gypsy so as to distract Christopher) and I want to do my elliptical work while thoroughly engrossed in the magic that is Britney's new album.
Anyway, I shall recap the weekend for all of my loyal readers.
What happened during the day is unimportant. The evening started off with a drunken viewing of Man vs. Beast 2, which had to have been one of the most important moments in television, especially when the chimp pissed himself. I moved on to campus to catch as much of Scott's show before I had to head up north for my rendez-vous with Rufus.
Here's how the meeting came about - he has a relative that goes to school here. Joe was in a class with her last year, and they're in the same academic program. She's dating someone who I lived in the dorms with my first year. Anyway, I saw them at the last concert in December, but they didn't see me. Joe and Christopher bought tickets to the concert this time, and Joe called her to see if she was going, and she offered them VIP seats, backstage passes, and invited them to go out afterward with Rufus himself (cut to: me kicking myself for not having bought tickets, me beating up Christopher at the gym when he told me). So Joe and Christopher tell me that I might as well meet them up north afterward, as long as I can "play it cool" or something like that (cut to me, in the privacy of my apartment, saying to myself in the mirror, "Nothing can stop me from meeting the man of my dreams!" and then laughing maniacally). I call the boys before they head out to the concert and they tell me that Rufus is going to Berlin afterward. After Scott's show I hop on the bus and head up north. I meet Mark and his friend Bill, who'd been at the concert, and we compare notes about the different concerts as the club starts to get more and more crowded. Mark tries to call the boys, but no answer. Now, Berlin is open until 5 AM, so it doesn't usually get crowded until pretty late. But around 12:30 or 1 AM, people start to dance, so Mark and Bill and I head out. After dancing to a couple of songs, and a few jack and cokes later, I decide to check my sweater and my scarf and head over to the coat check. While there, I sense someone approach to stand behind me in line, give a quick glance over my shoulder, and then think, "No...no, of course not." And I walk back to Mark and Bill and Mark says, "Rufus Wainwright is here."
And then I realize that the man behind me in the coat check was the man himself.
He was GORGEOUS. He has the long hair back, and he was wearing a tweed jacket and was kind of stubbly.
People generally gave him a really wide berth throughout the night, and he mostly stood at the bar with his keyboardist and looked out at the crowd while he smoked. Every once in a while people would sheepishly ask him a question or ask for a photograph or an autograph. The three of us positioned ourselves so that we could see him wherever we were in the club. At one point Mark walked up and asked him what had happened to Joe and Christopher and found out that Joe's fake hadn't worked. Bill thanked him for "Beautiful Child." I was perfectly content to be in his presence.
At one point, and maybe it was the haze of the club or the drinks, but I don't think so, he made eyes at me. And then at another point, while dancing to a remix of Bjork's "Pagan Poetry," I turned around and saw him dancing four feet away from me. I froze until I realized how obvious it was that I was standing completely still on the dance floor.
After awhile I thought that I would kick myself if I didn't say something to him. But rather than ask him where his relative and her boyfriend were, I asked him if he knew someone else that I go to school with, who claims that he corresponds with Rufus via email. Lame, lame, lame-ass. But I wanted to see if I could catch this kid in a lie and, ultimately, it really doesn't matter one fucking bit except that I actually spoke to my future husband.
At about 3 AM I decide that it's time to start my solo, one hour trip back home. Rufus had left a little after 2 anyway. So I say good-bye to Mark and Bill and walked out of the club, across the street to the train station. I called Joe and Christopher.
"Hey, did I wake you? Rufus touched my elbow. Okay, you know what, I don't really care whether or not I woke you up. I met fucking Rufus Wainwright tonight. Oh my God. I was dancing like so close to him..." and so on and so on and so on.
While on the train with all the other drunkards I got a few looks because of my very obvious, pretty smeared-by-sweat-from-dancing eye makeup. At one point I gave directions to these drunk out-of-towners who were on their way back to O'Hare, which prompted a gentleman to strike up a conversation with me (just after Jackson, which is six stops away from mine). At Cermak (three stops away) he comes and sits next to me. In between Cermak and the next stop he says something about the lack of a gay scene on the South Side and my drunk brain starts to realize what's going on. He's a nice guy. Older, maybe mid-40s, black man, lives on 79th and Maine, missing a few teeth, very articulate. In between 47th and my stop he asks me to come home with him. When I tell him I can't because I have to be on campus at 9:30 AM the next morning, he says that he can come with me and tells me that he just gets awfully tired of sleeping alone in the bed at night. I agree with him, even though I don't really agree with him (because nobody gets in the way of my good night's sleep and my ONE TREE HILL). Tell him it's nice to meet him, shake his hand, get off the train. Wait in the blisteringly cold breeze above the highway, shoulders hunched, puffing a cigarette, alone, staring at the hazy winter night's skyline ahead of me, cursing the bus that won't come and trying to process what has happened to me that night, marveling at how I never thought anything like this would ever have happened to me.
The bus comes and I get home at 4 AM and promptly pass out in bed, only to have to wake up 4.5 hours later.
This is going to have to be continued - it's already a long post. Coming up: Jon sexually harasses young gay men while witnessing lesbian sex. He drinks too much! He takes full possession of the remaining alcohol at a party! Totes ratty old chairs around Boystown for an afternoon! Cries four times at the end of Sex and the City!
Oh, and go visit Randy's site. Aside from linking to me, he also talked about taking the #146, which is a good, good bus.
Saturday, February 21, 2004
I did it. I met him. He was actually right behind me at the coat check.
I finally worked up the courage to talk to him. He said, "It was nice to meet you, too," touched my elbow.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Holy fucking Christ. If I play my cards right, and the stars align properly, I will get to meet my husband on Friday night.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
You know, I was thinking today of how warm it was (somewhere in the mid-30s) and then I got an email from Molly in which she wrote, "it is 84 degrees here today! and so nice," and that put something of a damper on the whole situation. I went to the gym today for the first time in awhile (the trip, last week's malaise) and while it was good, I'm exhausted. Oh, speaking of the gym: I've been going to Crown for awhile because that's where Christopher goes, and we've been benching together. It's also a little less crowded. But today I went to the Rat and now they play music and I heard, in succession, Blink-182, Liz Phair, and then "We are Family." Very, very odd. It's as if the Rat mixmaster aims to appeal to any and every demographic that might use a U of C gym. Anyway.
So we're reading a book called Working-Class War: American Combat Soldiers and Vietnam by Christian Appy, and it's really fascinating, compelling, and, certainly, horrifying reading. And I feel like a bad person (but not too bad, I guess) because I think that the following passage is pretty hot:
After the initial hazing, according to Ron Kovic's account, the recruits are herded into a large building and lined up in front of long rows of empty boxes. "I want you to take your clothes off," the sergeant shouted. "I want you to take off everything that ever reminded you of being a civilian and put it in the box...I want everything!" Naked now, the men are marched to a group of barbers. With fast, rough strokes, the barbers run electric razors over each man's head, shearing the hair down to the scalp in less than a minute. After the haircut the men are sent down long metal hallways, shoved along by drill instructors. The men get jammed up, the "young bodies tense and twisted together, grasping each other, holding on like children." They are run into a large shower room. A sergeant screams: "Wash all that scum off! I want you maggots to wash all that civilian scum off your bodies forever!"
Dripping and still naked, the men are moved to another room and are lined up in front of a row of boxes containing military uniforms...
I think it's the tense and twisted together part that gets me, and my locker-room fantasies.
I was writing a really, really long post and it just got COMPLETELY FUCKING ERASED. DAMMIT.
Okay, en brefe, as the French might say, here is my weekend update:
- Gay marriage in SF = YAY!
- Ran into old high school friend who is now grad student here at the U of C = weird, but YAY!
- Valentine's Day = Fuck you.
- LATTER DAYS = no good. But Steve Sandvoss is sexy. And, apparently, straight.
- Went to the opening of PARAGON SPRINGS at TIMELINE on Saturday = Good.
- Sex and the City = "Go get our girl" = I will be in such tears next Sunday.
- Adolf Eichmann = subject of class today = difficult class.
- Home movies of me and my roommates = so much fun and I will try to learn how to post them.
- Barbie and Ken, splitsville = Aw! But we SO knew Ken was gay. It was, like, totally obvious.
- Matt Drudge = Has he gone too far?
- Massachusetts = so much drama!
From the article: "Less than a month ago I took the oath of office here at City Hall and swore to uphold California's Constitution, which clearly outlaws all forms of discrimination," Newsom said in a statement. "Denying basic rights to members of our community will not be tolerated."
In other gay marriage news, Massachusetts Governor Mitt Romney can suck it. But actually, what I'm puzzled about by this decision is this: if the Supreme Judicial Court last week informed the legislature that nothing less than marriage is sufficient under the guidelines of the state constitution, how is it possible that they can include civil unions in the amendment? Is it precisely because they would be altering the Constitution? That would seem to make sense, even though it might tie up Margaret Marshall's panties and fly in the face of the spirit of that ruling.
Oh, Boston.com says that the Legislature rejected that amendment tonight in this story that I just checked.
On Sunday night, after a day-long recovery process that involved watching a lot of the Travel Channel and the Style Channel, I made dinner for Ryan and J. and we watched Sex and the City. We decided to go and check out Teeny Tiny Tina Turner at Jacque's and eventually ended up at Dedo, which had posted, very prominently, the first paragraph of the GOODRIDGE decision from last November:
Marriage is a vital social institution. The exclusive commitment of two individuals to each other nurtures love and mutual support; it brings stability to our society. For those who choose to marry, and for their children, marriage provides an abundance of legal, financial, and social benefits. In return it imposes weighty legal, financial, and social obligations. The question before us is whether, consistent with the Massachusetts Constitution, the Commonwealth may deny the protections, benefits, and obligations conferred by civil marriage to two individuals of the same sex who wish to marry. We conclude that it may not. The Massachusetts Constitution affirms the dignity and equality of all individuals. It forbids the creation of second-class citizens. In reaching our conclusion we have given full deference to the arguments made by the Commonwealth. But it has failed to identify any constitutionally adequate reason for denying civil marriage to same-sex couples. Ryan and J. and I spent a considerable amount of time talking, over a couple (maybe just one?) Cosmos about this passage, but I nearly lost it as soon as we walked inside. That is was there. I nearly cried.
Every time Joe and Christopher and I have dinner (which is usually two or three times a week) we end up talking about it.
After the Goodridge decision was handed down last quarter, Chauncey told us how excited one of his lawyer friends was (she had been working on the case) about it and reminded us that the push for marriage wasn't over and CERTAINLY wasn't secure in its trajectory. He told us that we need to be passionate about our causes.
My boss yesterday told me that she thinks gay rights (not specifically marriage, but it may be the cornerstone issue) will be the defining social justice issue of our time.