In the Now
AND NOW, FOR A SPECIAL COMMENT
With apologies to Keith Olbermann! He and Rachel Maddow are the freshest breaths of air to hit televised news in years! I’m sorry they have to share MSNBC facilities with that loathsome “Predator” series and the interminable, disgusting “Lock-up” crap, but at least they are ON THE AIR!
So far in this blog, I’ve described some of my life up to the age of 15, when I finally discovered what the thing between my legs could be used for besides taking a whiz. In today’s environment, especially in San Francisco, I can’t imagine a boy reaching the age of 15 without making this wonderful discovery much earlier. Indeed, polls at many of the blogs I read suggest that it’s fairly typical for boys to get their first blow-job around 12, by which time, one presumes, they had been jerking off for some time. [Now that the “Fondling Fathers” have been largely put out of business, this age-level may rise a bit] {chuckle}.
But, it is fair to ask, how did I manage to get to 15 without even masturbating? Even after a cousin had been so kind as to show me how!
Well, for one thing, my “hormone treatments” were late to arrive. I had my own bedroom always, so it was unusual to see even my brothers nude. I rarely saw my parents in the altogether either, and seeing any other people nude, in fact or photos, simply did not happen in those days. While I’m sure there was an underground trade in “smut”, it was never seen or discussed in my family. And remember, in those days, even Batman & Robin, always fully dressed, didn’t show a lot of basket, and genitals were routinely air-brushed out in most of the illustrations in the National Geographic! I do remember poring over the Monkey-Wards and Sears catalogues, looking at the underwear ads. Even there, though, “bumps” were not prominent, body hair was generally de-emphasized (on those guys and men who would have had any to start with), so there was really almost nothing salacious for a budding young queer to enjoy! I was not into sports or swimming, so even a classmate in a bathing-suit was a rare sight.
I remember being fascinated by a boy named Frankie in my Carmichael days: I was particularly attracted to his arms, which were finely shaped. He was many shades darker than me due to some mediterranean blood I suppose. I joined the Cub-Scouts, not because I had any interest in badges and all that stuff, but because the pack generally met at his house where his mom was den-mother. When it turned out all they ever did was play tag football on the huge expanse of lawn there, I lost interest in the scouts and retreated into my fantasies of touching Frankie’s lovely limbs. I still enjoy a well-shaped arm. It does not have to be particularly muscular; in fact, many of the photos I see nowadays are of guys whose arms are too muscular. My favorite pics are of naturally well-built fellows without the evidence of “pumping iron” so common nowadays.
There were lots of “pin-up girls”, but I was utterly uninterested in them: the belief that I ought to be interested led to a lot of grief!
Neither my own parents nor any others I knew were particularly demonstrative. Anything beyond a casual embrace was reserved for times when we kids were in bed! There were no TV shows for me to watch: Dad didn’t allow a TV into the house until good color-sets became common (late 1950’s).
Carl (he of horse fame) did show us (often) his dad’s collection of porno pictures, clearly obtained through underground sources. But these were straight porn, all in grainy black & white, and mostly in a tiny wallet-size format. Despite being dog-eared and grimy, they seemed to do it for Carl and his friends: they did nothing for me!
But the most telling feature that led to my remaining so innocent so late was my belief that I was some sort of one-off freak. In those days, “gay” meant light-hearted and charming; “queer” meant odd or strange; a “fairy” was something that took a tooth in the night. It would be years before I heard the word “homosexual” uttered by anyone, even though throughout most of my high-school years, the faculty and administration thought I WAS ONE!
WHY THE F*CK DIDN’T THEY TELL ME?!
I learned, years later, they all thought I was sucking every cock in the school. If they had only told me, I’d have obliged, willingly!
Even after my revelation in the gym, overhearing two boys discussing their alleged shooting prowess, I did not immediately realize my peers were probably doing and thinking the same sexual things I was because I was convinced they would all be thinking in terms of doing it with girls. Even when I kind-of figured out that guys might be relieving themselves just as I was soon doing daily, the idea of approaching any of them to do it with me remained beyond the pale. Much as I wanted to, I could not bring myself to proposition any of the guys I lusted after and dreamed about. Damn!
So, I blundered on, oblivious to what adults around me thought I was up to. I was a Junior in college before I learned there were, in fact, other guys with feelings similar to mine, willing to act on those impulses. I was in my 20’s before I got or gave a blow-job, but that’s for another page later on.
To be continued …
MISCELLANEOUS
• I read a lot of blogs, including some by youngsters dealing with finding themselves gay. Of course, every situation is different, so there’s no universal advice to be given. Except to say, “hang in: as my own blog will eventually relate, I figured things out to my own satisfaction and had a full and interesting life. It does take time…
• While I empathize with these kids, I envy their ability to put together blog pages and web sites that are absolutely smashing! The process has pretty much defeated me so far. Maybe some cute young thing who likes old men (yeah, right!) will come along and give me a hand. With the blog, I mean…
• As it is developing, my format seems to be a chronological exposé of my life: So far, I’m not even out of high school! But, the pace will pick up as I got out into the world. A buddy (well, he started out as a lover but things quickly degenerated) and I went to Europe the summer of 1963. This was my first glimpse into other life-styles. Later, I spent time in Vietnam, rode a motorcycle from Phnom-Penh to Singapore, worked in Australia, Philippines, Egypt, Ecuador and elsewhere, so there is much to tell. Here are a few photos to give you some idea of what’s in store:
Ready to depart Saigon, September, 1968, on a Honda CB-160
I have two saddle-bags and a cheap suitcase strapped on the luggage rack. The bike is a Honda CB-160 bought used from a compatriot leaving the country. The national assembly building in the background had been hit by a rocket a week earlier: note the canvas roof, top right.
All wood Siemens Train, Athens 1979
These beautifully maintained all-wood Siemens train-sets were still in use in Athens in 1978. I loved riding them. I hope some have been preserved.
Guayaquil & Quito Railroad, Ecuador, 1979
Perched on the tender of Engine Number 11 of the Guayaquil & Quito railroad, Ecuador, 1979. I had a fabulous time riding almost everything they had working at the time. I went back in 1994 to find very little of it running, and now there seems to be almost nothing left.
• Throughout it all I was queer—not flaming, but not really hiding it either. I had my share of “interactions”, and have no regrets, now that things are winding down.
• The chronology will be interrupted from time to time by observations on the current scene, political or other sorts of rants, and whatever else occurs that I think worthy of note.
To be continued …