Wednesday, April 25, 2007


I had dropped a hint or two in my mother's direction a couple of months ago, actually, about what might be going on with me and the Goat Man, or at least that he might exist; I now see that I did this within a week of my first night with him. [What on earth was I thinking?] That question returns to haunt me, because tonight I just came out and told her how deep I was in, which is, well, deep. She was visiting on her way back home from some far-flung event where Serious People were listening to a Great Speaker. The kind of thing, frankly, I thought she had buried along with my father. I was wrong. She went, she came back through Nowheresville, and took me out to dinner. That was nice.

So, I just went ahead and laid my cards on the table. In a public restaurant. [Maybe not so wise, but I think it was OK...] She was quite cool, actually, was glad I had someone, even if the distance and previous commitments were far from ideal. When I told her the story of not going to the beach, and then wanting to shoot myself, she just said, "Well, next time you'll know better." And I thought, "How cool is this?"

It's pretty cool, although I guess I can be fairly sure that within a day or two all my siblings will have gotten some slightly embroidered version of our conversation... I did give a few more details than I probably should have...

I can't wait to hear how they sound after being passed around a few times: things have a way of shifting shape once they've been filtered through a couple of different points of view, and my family just loves to pass things around...

Well, what can I say? My mother is cool.

In a funny way, I sort of wish my father were here, too. It seems he never shared my first coming-out to him thirty years ago with my mother except in a tangential way, or maybe it was one of those things she didn't want to hear, so she didn't retain it... it would be sort of neat to see how he would have taken all the upheaval of the last year or so.

What can I say? My father was cool. I miss him.

So, here's the long and short of it:

I'm a lucky bastard, and on some level I know it. [For one thing, my mother is still alive. For another, so is my grandmother.] That doesn't keep my heart from bleeding [as you may have noticed by now] and it sure as hell doesn't keep me from complaining about how far from ideal my life is. But who am I trying to kid? I honestly can't think of anyone I would willingly trade places with. My life may be a mess, but it's my mess; I'm used to it. It fits me.

So, here's a greeting to all those people out there who have stopped reading and commenting because it had gotten so predictable and boring: it is predictable and boring. But it's still OK with me. Hell, maybe I'll post something of substance one of these days.

More Jesus, anyone?

1 comment:

  1. It IS cool that you can discuss this with your mother, and I agree that it makes her cool, too.