Monthly Archives: May 2010

On Riding Trains

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About a year ago, my lifestyle changed dramatically when my beloved VW Golf was totaled in a multi-car collision.  Thankfully, I wasn’t in the car at the time.  It was parked peacefully, legitimately, minding its own business street side when the accident occurred, and it served as an airbag for one of the cars spinning out of control.  A total loss.  But since the car was nine years old, with 140,000 miles on it, my insurance pay out was just a few thousand dollars.  Not enough to replace it.  So after I maxxed out the days that my insurance pays for a rental, I became a train commuter.

There are a lot of advantages to taking the train versus driving to work in the NYC metro area.  It’s a far healthier lifestyle.  I get more exercise since I have to walk further to the station than I walked back and forth to my car.  There’s a lot less stress letting someone else do the work of getting there while meanwhile I can read, write, or send cutesy text messages to other people.  I’ve almost missed my stop on several occasions because I get so immeresed in these activities, and the time goes amazingly quick compared to sitting on a parkway, staring at an endless carpet of cars stretching into the distance, searching with a fool’s hope for a sign of movement.

I also see a lot more people by traveling on the train, and as a writer, that makes for occasional inspiration.  I get to eavesdrop on one-sided cellphone conversations all the time.  Strangely, they’re almost always some kind of fight between girlfriend and boyfriend, daughter and controlling mother, or divorced husband negotiating child visitation with wife.  Or maybe people just sound angrier on their cell phones.

The morning trip is blissful.  I do a reverse commute so everyone gets a two-person or three-person seat to themselves, often with lots of empty seats in front and behind them, and everyone is sleeping, looking as cozy as though they were tucked in their beds.  It’s quiet as a library and I can read and write with full concentration.

Then there’s the occasional cute conductor to pique my interest and random people carting tons of luggage, looking horribly aggravated as they lumber to disembark at Jamaica station, onward to the shuttle at JFK (this has gotta be one of the greatest miseries in life).

And I now have the self-righteous claim that I’m reducing my carbon footprint by commuting.  I do care about the environment, but the truth is I’m just too cheap to buy another car.

Short Story Acceptance!!

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After a bit of a publishing drought, I just got notified that my short story “In A Wine Phase” was accepted by the quarterly e-zine Wilde Oats.  The issue is slated to come out in August.

I wrote “In A Wine Phase” about a year ago.   It’s a quick look at a relationship in trouble, a 7-year itch kind of story, and it also deals with the meaning of family for gay men.  The story got a pass from another journal with some feedback from the editor, so I took another shot at it recently.  Really cool that sometimes when you put the extra work in, it pays off.

All in all, this is a pretty damn exciting time as I also have a column coming out shortly in La Bloga featuring an interview with YA author Alex Sanchez.  The article should be out this coming Sunday or the next.

So tonight:  a glass of champagne, a cigarette and feet up on the couch.

Can Two Men Tango?

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My partner and I started tango classes about a week ago.  This was a big deal, me being profoundly rhythm and coordination-challenged, him being hostilely disposed to social organizations of any type and fairly intolerant of learning curves.

Our prior dance experience consisted of an awkward, argumentative two-step that opened up the dance floor at our wedding.  And we have been seen dancing the typical free form, no contact bob and shimmy that gay men do at clubs, inspired by a few drinks or out of obligation to the fact that we are, after all, gay men.

He’s actually a quite a good dancer.  He can salsa and merengue and his vogueing  was admired in certain circles during the 1990’s.  I have been occasionally acclaimed, and more often reprehended for my tendency to throw a lot of shoulder action into my dancing.

Tango lessons have leveled the playing field.  This was a pleasant surprise, and, as he explains, it’s a lot harder being choreographed than just moving your body to the beat.  I, on the other hand, prefer being choreographed.  I enjoy rules, proven, trustworthy rules.  I need instructions for every part of my body because left to its own devices, it’s not pretty.  So, we’re both stumbling through the lessons, quick to accuse each other when we make a mistake, yet each determined to get it right.

There’s still something strange to me watching two men dance the tango.  Perhaps it’s a vestige of internalized homophobia, which I thought I had overcome through numerous public displays of affection and tempting disapproval from my sixtyish Romanian hairdresser when I confirmed once and for all that I wear a wedding ring because I’m married to a man and even agreeing to enter my name as the “wife” at the Macy’s bridal registry.

There’s a great line from comedian Bob Smith (also a Buffalo native) which I’ll paraphrase:  “As gay men, my partner and I demand our equal right to display affection in public as long as we can maintain the right to avoid affection in the privacy of our own home.”  This is something I can relate to though Hunny-Bunny (H.B.) sees it the other way around.

Anyway, my point is that I have to get over this hang-up over watching two men tangoing.  I have no problem watching two men do other kinds of intimate things together, not that I’m a voyeur or a porn-addict, I’m just saying I’m being a bit hypocritical.

As long as there are no mirrors involved, I feel perfectly comfortable dancing the tango with other men.  I do find it easier to lead than to follow but I think anyone would.   It’s pretty tough to remember your steps while trying to keep in synch with your partner.  Luckily, due to a decided height advantage, I end up leading H.B. most of the time.

But the cool thing about our tango class is that it’s “open role.” This means the program operates with the mantra, repeated by the instructors with a certain pride and fervor:  “Everyone leads.  Everyone follows.”  This is how it really should be in the world.   No one should be stuck in the same role, stressed out by constantly setting the pace or having to politely endure being led by someone who really has no idea what he’s doing.

Which brings me (finally) to my insight of the day.  I like being gay because it gives me a right to be flexible with gender roles.  There are times when I’m happy being gruff and domineering and others when I prefer to be coy and wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of a little chivalry.

In the meantime, I’ll work on my same-sex tango-phobia.  I think it’s a good thing to push oneself on these issues.  Our instructors have invited us to join a queer tango troupe performing at various public venues.  That would be the ultimate test.

Richard Carroll Interview – Part Two

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My interview with Richard Carroll continues…

ANDREW PETERS:  The ice is broken and I think I can ask you the “big question.”  What happened that night at Fire Island?

RICHARD CARROLL:  [clears throat] Basically, I put myself in a really bad situation.  Me and my cousin Matty dropped Ecstasy, we went to a club, threw back a lot of drinks, and this guy offered me GHB.  Honestly, there’s not much I remember from there.  GHB’s the kind of drug you have to be careful with.  Take a little, and you’re feeling great.  Take too much, and you’re basically comatose.  Obviously, I took too much.

AP:  So you overdosed?  There was also sexual assault involved.

RC:  Yeah. It took me awhile to accept the sexual assault part.  Y’know in the club scene, the “boothstore” scene, a lot of scenes, the boundaries are really blurry.  These weren’t guys who cornered me and attacked me.  We met at the club, dosed up together, things got pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor and I ended up going home with them, though I barely remember it.

AP:  That made it hard to accept the experience as rape?

RC:  Yeah, it definitely did.  For a long while, I kept asking myself what did I do wrong?  Or was I imagining that what happened wasn’t consensual or did I have the right to be angry at the guys for what happened?

AP:  Do you think it’s also harder to reconcile because we don’t normally think of men as victims?

RC:  For sure, that’s part of it.  I mean I had been in a lot of crazy situations before and never thought of myself as a victim.  Plus, I’m being really honest here, there’s the whole fantasy aspect .  I mean, if I imagined something like that happening, going home with a group of guys, did that give me the right to be upset about it after it actually happened?  And things are different in the gay world.  People have three-ways, four-ways, orgies, and drugs are almost always involved.   Now maybe nine times out of ten, that situation is totally safe.  But in my case, that one night changed my life forever.

AP:  A lot of people will think you’re very brave in coming forward about it.  Was there also an aspect of pressure to not say anything because of how it reflects on the gay party scene?

RC:  I hear what you’re saying.  For me, that didn’t figure in as much.  Maybe because I didn’t live through the experience.  I didn’t have to face people I knew from that scene and deal with people’s reactions.  It was a lot more of an internal struggle.  But once I got past that, it really wasn’t so hard to tell my story.  I mean sexual abuse or rape are things that affect a lot of people.  If I can be honest about it, maybe that helps someone else.

AP:  So you could be a role model after all.

RC:  Maybe.

AP:  Your story is about becoming an angel.  That has a lot of religious connotations that bothered you at first.

RC:  It did.  Until I understood what it was really about.  I mean, I haven’t converted to Christianity or anything.  Being an angel has nothing to do with that.

AP:  You’re a Jewish angel?

RC:  I’m a “cultural Jewish” angel.

AP:  Very cool.  So, what’s it like being “on the other side?”

RC:  Not as different as you might think.  I mean, there are days when I forget that it’s any different.  The people are different.  The places are different.  Angels travel between two worlds – the mortal world and the afterlife.  And in a way, we’re not really part of either of them, which was kind of lonely at first, but then you discover there’s other people, other angels like you.

AP:  And I understand you have a love interest.

RC:  [cocks head and blushes] Yeah.  I met someone.

AP:  Allright.  I think I know who my next interview is going to be.  But Richard, we’re just about out of time.  We’re going to have to move on to the speed round.

RC:  Ok.

AP:  Here goes.  Ultimate Pop Diva:  Lady Gaga or Madonna?

RC:  Madonna.

AP:  Wow – that’s kind of a surprise.  When were you born?  Like 1989?

RC:  You gotta respect your elders.

AP:  Good enough.  OK.  NYC neighborhood:  Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen?

RC: East Village, man!

AP:  Allright.  Time to update my questions.  How ’bout Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts?

RC:  Starbucks.  Iced Coffee with a double shot of espresso.  Can’t beat it.

AP:  Social Networking:  MySpace or Facebook?

RC:  I had accounts on both of them, but I’d have to go with Grindr.

AP:  You’re not sticking to my questions.  What the hell is Grindr?

RC:  It’s an Iphone app.  You browse through people’s profiles, see where they’re at and find out if they want to meet up.

AP:  Oh!  Kinda like GPS, right?  Guess I’m really showing my age here.  Lemme see if I’ve got anything left in my script here.  Designer jeans:  True Religion or Diesel?

RC:  That’s a hard one.  I’m gonna have to go with Diesel.

AP:  Ok.  Fantasy date:  Robert Pattinson or Taylor Lautner?

RC:  Pattinson by a landslide.

AP:  Great.  That’s all we have time for.  I think you scored three out of six.  Thanks again, Richard.  This has been really fun.  Are you up for sticking around if visitors to the site have questions?

RC:  Sure.