I want a kiss that means something An embrace that’s worth my faith Tired of careless encounters I need a love that’s worth the wait
I wrote these lines Sunday morning at three A.M., two weeks ago. I was at a party for an aunt. I thought that, because of the hour, the party would have been over. Think again, the party was in full motion. As I left half an hour later, people were arriving still, but I was in no mood for party. I was feeling blue. I was alone, as usual, as always.
On November 5th, I went to LFC’s home for our 13th Halloween Bash. As you can imagine, it’s a long story. I’ll try to be brief.
I met LFC in junior high. We both were in the same class and we have been friends ever since. When we got to High school, we ended up in different classes. He made some friends; I made others so at the end it was an interesting mix of people. More or less, most of us liked movies, so in 1994, the whole gang gather up at my house to see the Academy Awards ceremony that year. Pulp fiction lost that year. Forest Gump won the gold and little did we know we started a yearly tradition. Latter that year, for Halloween, we decided to do a Bash with a particular twist: Guys would dress up as Dolls and vice versa. It was a defining moment for some of us, but at the end, we picked up the annual gathering.
Ever since 1994, more or less, the same group of friends has reunited on these two occasions for these events. The organizers and the keepers of the tradition are LFC, El Vale and I. We have been on each and every one of these celebration, with the exception of Oscars 99. Instead of going to Our Gala, I went to the Timbiriche reunion Concert. Timbiriche was a big part of my history when I was young, so I had to choose. And I come clean with it; it was a very hard decision. Up to this day, every time I mention this, LFC and El Vale state this slip to me. However, For Halloween 2000 they got back at me. They changed the day of the date, from Saturday to Friday, without telling me. There are other three friends who, more or less have been in most of these reunions: Bergman, Criminal and Alfran. Besides these six, others have come and gone, but at the end, the basic group remains.
As everything, these two annual reunions have evolved. At The Oscars’ Gala we stopped betting on the winners. In Halloween, we changed it from a party to a Horror movie marathon, but the spirit remains there. Two times a year, that group of not so young fellas comes together to celebrate two things: Cinema and the fact that we found each other.
This year, the Halloween party was the least attended ever, but at the same time, one of the most intimate and rewarding for me. We had to do it after Halloween, because of LFC’s work. At the end, only El Vale, Bergman and I arrived. It seemed like we went to the basic, only the true film lovers were there. The three of them have shown interest in moviemaking. Me too, but that’s another story. There was a sense of untold camaraderie between us, a sense of shared experiences. Nothing of this was spoken, but I sure felt it, and, although I was the first to leave, I left uplifted for being part of it.
An interesting thing happened during dinner. The routine is and has been like this since the beginning: we always eat pizza. I call to order it, LFC pays for it and we all eat it. When we were eating, we started talking of the movies we have seen recently, the movies we missed, the movies we’re interested in. They started talking about all of this and when I hear them say “we have to choose what to see” it hit me. Time has past. We’re no longer the kids who asked their parents for permission and a ride to go to a friend’s house on school night or to host a party. We no longer have the time to see everything we want to see, even if it was bad. We no longer have the stamina or the time to see three movies on one day, every weekend, as we used to. We have work, friends and social responsibilities outside this circle, and more and more these keep us from this special place we made for us. Life has catch up with us.
This is in no way a sad thing, just an observation. I mean, I always kept this world in a very special place. By this I mean cinema and the special bond share with these two guys. So special for me that I always thought I wanted to do movies too, as LFC and EL Vale wants. Finally I realize that my path is in another field, but still, I keep this special place for this world.
I feel very proud of being part of this experience, I feel is bigger than us, and that’s wonderful. We have kept this going on for 13 years; we have made a history, something to look forward next year, for the rest of our life. Call me a romantic, a softie, but for me, it’s a big thing. I wonder for how longer we will do this. As we were leaving the theater after “Marie Antoinette” I saw El Vale and LFC walking towards the exit, and I wonder if, twenty years from now, when we are fifty, will we? Will we go to the movies on Sunday? I hope we do. Not every Sunday, of course, but the Sundays we do, I hope we do it in the same spirit.
I’m sure that when I die, and that I’m at the gates of heaven, and when Saint Peter asks me of my sins I will answer this: “Only one: procrastination”. Ok, I know, I’m not a catholic, and because of that, this scenario for me is unlikely (at that moment I will say: “Two sins: procrastination and lack of faith” hehehe.)
I don’t know whether it is laziness or just the sheer excitement of self-sabotage, but the fact remains, I leave everything until the last moment. Work, homework, break ups, sadness. I keep everything on hold as if by doing this time will stop its motion. It does not, and the results are not good. When it comes to work, I’m always very competent, so everything is ready when it has to be. What about School? That’s another story. More and more, I find myself leaving thing until the end and then, I don’t do them. Break ups and emotional crisis? I don’t like confrontations, so I prefer to keep going until… I don’t know. Why do I have to do this? I don’t know, but my therapist, who I saw last week told me that I had to go to visit him immediately. I’ll keep you posted.
What do you know? Two weeks ago I went to a concert, recital, or something like that. It was locally organized and it features a group of young artists eager for the applause of the masses. As I was reading the program, the only thing I could think of is that one hell of a Queen must have compiled it. An old one too, mostly 70’s, 80’s and early, very early 90’s pop standards. And no, just because it featured “Hips don’t lie” doesn’t mean that it was modern, or hip, for that matter.
The show started half an hour late. Good for me, because I arrived late at the auditorium. The quality of the sound was deplorable, but the energy of the performers was sky high, so it was interesting. And then, The Bare Crooner, there, on stage, singing. I immediately recognized the voice, that beautiful, melodic, velvety voice. As soon as I noticed him, I passed on the info to my friends, who agreed with me that he really had a marvelous voice. He had a very strong presence on stage and I believe had the best voice of the various gentlemen who appeared in the show. And well, at least now I know his name. And no, I did not asked for his autograph.
I do not know what to think of this. Yesterday I went to Las misiones, supposedly the biggest and trendiest mall in Juarez (which is not much to say). In the parking lot I saw an interesting vehicle, something like a commercial trailer but made like an auto, something like a hummer on steroids. I barely noticed. I only paid attention to it because my companion pointed it to me. Here is a picture of the vehicle:
When we got out, we passed over the place were the monster was parked. And not only that, it had an audience. Many people were surrounding it, adults and children. Some of them were even taking pictures of it, like a sideshow. I found this event even more interesting, the fact that not just one or a couple of people, a whole group were admiring this mechanical hybrid parked outside a mall. There people in every side of it, looking in awe of the great work of human engineering in front of them. I had to take a picture of this, even more than of the truck. Yes, me taking a picture of the people that where taking pictures of the monster.
My cynical side found quite funny the whole spectacle. I mean, what are they thinking, it’s just a truck, maybe clean and shiny, but still, a truck. Now, as I write these lines, I’m wondering about their reaction. Would I, having in front me something as amazing as this group perceived the truck to be, stop too and admire the greatness that life is bestowing in front of my eyes? Or would I, cynical as I can be, walk away dismissing it because I would look ridiculous. I think I would go for the first option, and I hope that I keep choosing this option always.
Yesterday I was witness of one of the weirdest acts committed in a public restroom. And I’ve been to Samborns, so you know I’ve seen a lot.
I found myself yesterday in Soriana, and needed to go to the lavatory. I got inside and there were some guys minding their business. I noticed the four stalls were in use. At that particular moment I got it. They weren’t minding their business, they were cruising each other. Men, they use every opportunity to get laid, or get some, even a grope. And if you ask, yes, any place where men can wipe it out is a place to cruise. Gyms, bathrooms, dark alleys, a parked car, you name it; they’re used as hook ups places.
I turned away from the urinal and started to wash my hands and at that moment I noticed two kids going into the bathroom. They were waiting for a stall to use it and none of the guys in thestalls seemed to care about it. Finally the two stalls in the center got available and these kids were able to use them.
The kids got out of the rest room and the two stalls were still occupied. By this time I had already washed my face, groomed my hair and was in the process of cleaning my glasses for the second time when another kid entered the bathroom, announcing that he had to use it! He was about nine or ten years old, and was very determent to do what he wanted.
He stood there, looked at me and then, focused his attention at the stall at the end of the row. He started knocking on the door, constantly. He kept saying, “I want to use this toilet, I want to use this toilet”. Since he did not get any response, he started spying on the guy using the stall thru the separation of the door and the wall. When he did this, he started chanting, “I see you, I see you, I see you”. Next thing I know, I hear the flush of the toilet. And I noticed the guy stood up and got ready to leave. Not so fast, the kid thought, because, as soon as the guy opened the door and started walking out of the stall, the kid throw himself at the man and hugged him from the waist. Fear got into this guy’s face and as he could, he got the kid off him (not pun intended) and walked away from the rest room.
Triumphantly the kid, with a wide smile, stood in front of the stall that he obtained thru dubious methods. Holding on to the door, He said, “I want to use that toilet”, pointing to the other stall. And off he went, to the stall at the other side and as he did before, he berated the guy inside to stop doing anything he was doing inside and leave. And again, as he opened the door, the kid grabbed him by the waist to try to hold him. This guy freed himself more easily from he kid’s arms and went to wash his hands. By this moment, I was laughing so hard (on the inside) that I barely was able to wash my hands for a fifth time.
The second victim left the bathroom and I followed suit. I was having so much fun, this was such a bizarre event that I didn’t wanted to spoil it by becoming the psycho kid’s third victim in a row.
A while ago I wrote these lines. These words had been brewing inside of me for a long time; this is what I was seeing around me, so much need for contact, especially in gay men. The thing is that many men in this city (and in many others, I think) decided to live a double life, on one side, wives and kids. On the other, furtive glances, brief encounters, nameless partners.
BRIEF.
Everybody wants to touch But they’re afraid to reach. I know I’m a victim of the same disease. Do you?
Sometimes I see these men and perceive the hopelessness stuck in heir faces. It saddens me and makes me mad. Mad because society made them take an option they were not meant to take… or wanted to take… or did not knew of other option. Mad because we all are demanded to adhere to this rules. Mad because this is arbitrary. And especially mad, because as them I had and have to fight constantly against this silent enemy to find love.
Last weekend I went to one of two bathhouses that you can find in Juarez. You may ask: why, oh why do I have to go to his kind of establishments. The only thing I have to say about it is: yes, I went, and no, I do not want to get into this moral argument.
The first thing after going into the place, is find a cubicle, one with light and with a door. Don’t worry all of them have doors. Usually on weekend, the place is packed, but strange enough, this particular time was not, which is good, because when there are a lot of people there, the guys tend to be more reserved and do not talk to anybody or the contrary, since there are other fellows who they know, they do not act on their impulses because some guy they talk with might see him go into a cubicle and shut the door. And you know what happens when you shut the door. It’s something that I still don’t understand, guys go to this kind of places in order to hook up with other guys, but when they’re actually there, don’t do anything. Is not that I’m asking for a full on orgy (although it would be interesting), no, but you see the glances, you can cut the sexual tension with an axe. And guys do nothing to cut it.
After finding a respectable cubicle, I went to the showers to get ready for the steam room. In my way I saw the obligatory old, big-belly man sitting in front of the showers. There were two this time. Now that I think of it, I know why they’re always sitting there, that’s the only thing left for them, to look and reminisce of times past, of opportunities not taken. Once I showered, I went to the steam room and stayed for 15 minutes, a record for me, because I usually can stand only a limited amount of steam room time. I went back to mi cubicle and fall asleep.
When I woke up, I lay there for a brief time, and while there, a young man passed in front of my door, trying to cover himself with a towel of the results of a time well spent. I’m sure he was going to the showers. Finally I stood and got out of the cubicle. By that time I was dry again, so I decided to make a round to see if there was someone interesting or interested. There was no one so I went back to the showers, got wet and went into the last steam room and I found my spot. I tit down and was alone, but not for long.
The radio that the guy who does massages was on, and incredibly, it was playing “I will survive”. After the initial laugh, I started singing along silently to myself, but my singing was abruptly silence by someone’s more strong and attuned voice. I heard somebody open the door and I heard a interesting echo of a beautiful singing voice. This echo got closer and closer and finally, the man who was singing arrive at the same room I was. Coincidentally, it was the guy I noticed earlier sans towel. Completely naked. Of course, this is not a weird thing considering where we were, but it caught my attention, because I had seen him earlier with a towel making the rounds. He got into the room, walk inside, stood there for a while and finally he sat right across from me. He did all this while singing in a delicious velvety voice.
I cannot remember what song he was singing first, but he had a swell voice, modulated, and in pitch. I only remember it was a song of lost love and that he sang it beautifully. Since we were in a closed room, the sound felt bigger, and it was amazing. I do not know why, but he was staring at me, maybe because I was his whole audience. The next song in his set was “Acompañame”. I’ve never thought much of this song, but being serenaded this way, it make me listen carefully to it, and I have to say, It’s a beautiful piece. I looked silently at him, because I was enjoying the shared moment.
The third song I didn’t recognized it, but afterwards I asked him. It’s from Alexander Pyres and it’s called “amandote”, another love song. Something interesting happened while he was singing this. Since he, as I, was sitting in a corner, he lifted his legs and spread them across the part of the wall that was functioning as a bench. So there he was, spread eagle while he kept producing those enthralling sounds. Next on the set, was Sinatra’s “My way”, as interesting choice as the previous songs.
When he stopped singing I had to applaud, so I did. After thanking me he said:
- Money would be better. He said trying to make a joke about it - That explains a lot… I said. - What do you mean? - Forget it, just making conversation. - So, you liked it? - Yes, I did, it was an interesting experience, so interesting I will have to put it on my blog. - You will? Well, then, lets talk about the money again.
I laugh. After a brief moment, while he started singing again, I consider the option of getting to know this guy a bit more. When he stopped again, I stood up and sat besides him, I Introduced myself and asked for his name.
- Why do you want to know my name - I want to know who was singing delightfully to me. - You don’t need to know my name - I know I don’t, but I would like to. - I like your attitude - Why is that? - You don’t get scared, you don’t get surprised. You keep your cool. - Is there any reason to loose my cool?
He laughed, stood and walked away and left me there alone. Later on, when I was back at my cubicle I heard him singing “acompañame” again while getting ready to leave the establishment. At the end, I did not get his name, but I sure was a witness of his nude recital.
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