The Snow Garden... Christopher Rice...

I read it today.

I was expecting sophomore slump. Second novels are notoriously iffy. Often quite bad.

The first few pages of the novel didn't draw me in. But, by the second chapter the characters were starting to speak to me. By the third or fourth, I was hooked.

His first novel, DENSITY OF SOULS, was a book that I read in one sitting. So is the second. Well, one day anyway.

I won't comment much on the storyline except to say that it's very complicated. Very. It takes place over a winter semester at a small east coast university. The cast of characters is quite large and nearly every character in the book is much more than they first appear.

It reminded me in parts of Donna Tart's The Secret History, Elizabeth Hand's Waking the Moon and Arturo Perez-Reverte's The Club Dumas. But these are positive comparisons. I don't mean to imply that it's derivative of any of these novels. And it only bears passing resemblance to any of them.

There was one scene in the copy that I read that I imagine most of you will never read. There's a scene where a character looks over the skyline of NYC and glances past the radio towers over the World Trade Center. And it takes place in December 2001. Sort of odd reading that. But, I digress.

It's the sort of book that you don't want to put down. In some ways, I liked it more than his first novel. In some ways less. But, most of the latter probably has to do with Density's New Orleans setting. I love books set in New Orleans. Can't imagine why...

Any novel that leaves me a bit disturbed at the end and also leaves me wanting to read more of the characters, even if I don't *really* wanna read about them since their story is done, is a good book.

And this was a good book.

But, perhaps you can decide for yourself. In February. When the rest of you can get a copy. :P

Looking at the back of Christopher Rice's new novel, two things strike me. The novel isn't set in New Orleans. He moved to Los Angeles to live.

Ugh.

I'm already sensing sophomore slump.

First off... i'm craving contact... if you're out there and reading this, let me know... devem@earthlink.net ... just drop me a line or two...

Alrighty... i'm in a bit of a maudlin goofy mood, so...

Right about now, I'm liking life a lot.

The last week has simultaneously been one of the worst weeks of my life and one of the best. The enormity of what happened in New York City and DC threatened to overwhelm me on more than one moment. I've worked every day but one since September 11th. In that time, I've had to put on a brave front. As a manager in a large retail store (Barnes & Noble), I have to be a leader, an examplar. I have to set the example for others no matter what my own internal feelings. This past week has been my greatest challenge. I've had to manage, shepherd, counsel and simply be there for around 80 shellshocked employees. For a week now, I've gone to my store and put on a brave front, trying to act as though the unfolding events had little effect on me. Sometimes I succeeded, a few times I failed. Mostly I had success.

Its been my responsibility to my staff to be a firm figure of resolve. To act as though what we've all been through was bearable. To counsel those whose feelings threatened to overwhelm them. To referee when two overly emotional employees came to verbal blows over normally inconsequential matters. To gently correct when employees became irritable after being asked for the same books or magazines pertinent to the ongoing crisis for the 700th time.

I went to work and set a brave face. And then on the way home at nite, listening to NPR or whatever radio station happened to be reporting the news (and they all were), I sat behind the wheel of my car and sobbed.

I don't think of myself normally as a patriot. I don't think those who know me necessarily think of me as a caring person. But the events of September 11th 2001 have deeply wounded me.

In one day, our world has changed so enormously that I don't think that even now we can comprehend how much it has changed.

Nothing will ever be the same. Nothing. Ever.

I am so very proud at this moment in time to be an American citizen. We live in such a great country. We have enjoyed such great freedom. We influence the rest of the world as no other country.

But, last week, over 5000 of our citizens died. In spectacularly horrible ways. I stil am not capable of comprehending the enormity of it all.

I still cry when I'm alone.

But...

Over the past week, perhaps because of the horror of these events, I've come to realize that in many ways I have a truly great existence.

I've lived in Louisiana my entire life. Most of it in the small town where I grew up or in Baton Rouge. Almost a year ago, I moved to New Orleans.

I can't possibly express how much I love this city. New Orleans is in my blood. It's the city that I'm meant to coexist within.

The shabby decandent outsider feeling that this city exudes is what flows in my veins. I belong here. I can't imagine ever living anywhere else.

From the moment I moved here, I've met people, for perhaps the first time in my life, who I truly feel a kinship with. Flynn, Robert, Jonno, Tracy... who are new to me. Dave, Brian, Tom, Tanner... who I knew already and most of whom were also drawn to this beautiful place. For most of my life, I've known that I'm truly really not that similar to most people. It's amazingly gratifying to meet other people who are similarly unique.

I was standing on a street corner on Magazine Street earlier this week waiting for a bus and I was suddenly struck, as I looked down the street, how much I truly love the area I live in. The Lower Garden District of New Orleans is such a unique and vital area. It's beautiful. And I feel so very lucky to be here.

I almost feel as though somehow a decision was made on a higher level (and this is coming from an avowed atheist) to send me good thing over the last week.

The Sunday before we were attacked, I met Matthew. I'm a bit smitten with this boy. I don't know where it will go, but for now it's good.

This past Saturday, at our store we had an event called Literary Louisiana. Basically, it was a day to recognize local authors. The basic concept was to get a couple big name to draw people in for the smaller names.

One of our bigger names was Poppy Z Brite. One of my absolute favorite authors, who just happens to live in New Orleans. Well... not quite... she's one of the top authors at describing life in New Orleans...

Regardless, Poppy and I have had an odd email relationship off and on for a year or so. I've participated in her Usenet newsgroup for several years. I've had books signed by her years ago at signings. But, since I've moved to New Orleans, where she lives also, we've never met, despite me working at the bookstore that she shops most frequently.

So, Saturday, we finally met. I'm embarrassed to admit that when she went to hug me, I pulled away from her. I just don't like to be touched unexpectedly. It's one of my fucked up idiosyncrasies (sp?).

Regardless, we had nice conversation every once in a while. I was quite proud of myself because I really viewed her as another cool citizen of NO, and not as an idol. Her husband is also quite the nice guy.

And today, I went to work. On the way to work, I somehow became quite depressed. I think it was mainly the fact that I knew that I had another day of being the 'tough guy' ahead of me. But, my co-assisant manager, Peter, made my day much better. He quite teasingly looked at me and said "hey, do you want this?" and pulled out an Advance Readers Copy of THE SNOW GARDEN by Christopher Rice.

I was made quite happy at that moment.

I'm one of the few that actually quite enjoyed his first book, DENSITY OF SOULS. So, I was quite happy to get a copy of his new book 4 months before the rest of you.

I'll let ya know how it is in a couple of days....

So, I've seen Matthew (the 22 year old) 5 times over the last 9 days. That's an interesting number of times.

I'm growing fond of him. He's a sweet goofy boy with a slightly nuts side to him. Not that I have room to talk...

The phone calls have flowed back and forth in equal quantity. That's a good thing.

He's also quite good at kissing. Another good thing...

So, last nite, I knew that I had to get up at 5 am this morning, but I still didn't go to bed until 12:30 am. The cute boy called me around 11:45. That was a nice surprise.

I tossed and turned all nite, finally settling down just when the alarm went off at 5. Jumped up, showered, ate some fruit and went to work. We had an event today with 18 local authors and there was a lot of set-up to do.

I got the event running smoothly and had a nice day at work. One of my favorite authors was in the store today to sign, Poppy Z. Brite. She rocks. I love her books much much much.

It was cool getting to hang out with her and her husband and chatting with them for a bit. It was kinda neat for both of us, I think, b/c she and I have had a sporadic email correspondence for a couple of years.

I think I made a good impression in person tho, cuz when she left, she gave me her phone number. :) Cool beans indeed.

a day off work...

I'm still stumbling around a bit, numb from this unthinkable week. But, I'm trying to get on with life the best I can.

I slept late this morning and then caught some sun while reading the new Arturo Perez-Reverte novel, THE NAUTICAL MAP. I didn't even know this book was coming out, so it's quite the treat to have right now.

Then I headed out to the Quarter for a coffee date that was arranged a few days ago. Met a guy from gay.com, Mark. He turned out to be someone I had seen before and thought cute. Nice conversation. I expect follow up.

Also, wound up hanging out with Flynn for a bit. At first at Fifi Mahoney's, his sometimes workplace, and then on the street. While at Fifi's, his friends Beau and Andy (the good one) dropped by, separately. Andy is a cute mostly straight heavily tattooed boy who bartends at Rawhide. Cute boy, seem very sweet. Beau is a beautiful freak of a boy. He's much more handsome than he realizes and he's a walking fetish. He's one hot boy and I don't think he has a clue quite how attractive he is. And I noticed early on that he was wearing latex underwear...

Flynn, Beau and I wound up strolling around the Quarter on a beautiful late summer evening. We strolled thru Virgin, admiring toys ands DVDs. Then to Tower to peruse more movies and toys. All three of us have similar transgressive tastes, I think.

While in Tower, Beau and I wound up in the little porn section. Amusingly enough, we both grabbed BOUND & GAGGED off the porn newsstand. And both agreed that the pics in it just don't go far enough. From these moments bonds are born...

Strolling back through the Quarter to Beau's jeep, I ask Beau about the first time I met him, which was a horribly overdone looong drunken nite out. I find out that he did me a great kindness that night. I don't wanna go into it, but I feel a great fondness for him as a result.

We hang at Flynn's for a bit and then Beau and I both bail on dinner plans for economic reasons. I realize I should head home instead of out for the evening with them. Beau needs to run home for some meds, so I grab a ride home with him.

The ride home turns into a long one thanks to a train crossing Rampart. Beau talks a lot and I listen a lot, adding my two cents here and there. It's nice conversation, if sometimes strange conversation. The strange conversation is even better. He drops me off and I feel quite good about having met another really interesting person.

So, that's two new interesting people today. Wow.

I'm liking this. Over the last few months, I'm finally, for the first time in my life, meeting people who I feel I share somewhat of a sameness with. And developing friendships of varying degrees with them.

This rocks...

(Apologies to Sturtle, who probably never reads my page anyway, for all the prepositions that I love to end sentences with...)

In the midst of all the insanity, something good has happened. I met a boy.

Sunday night, I went out to meet my friend Shaun who was visiting from Kansas City at the Pub. I usually don't have a whole lot of fun at the Pub, but I figured I'd make the best of it. Shaun was pretty much toasted when I got out around 1. I was hanging at the corner of the bar with our mutual friend Nick and the boy he was scamming on when an incredibly cute boy stopped to say hi to Nick's boy. I made room for him to get to the bar so he could get a drink. After he got his drink, he stayed nearby.

I was instantly smitten. He was dark, thin, precocious as could be and had a great smile. Smitten.

Somehow we started chatting a little. A little chatting turned into a lot of chatting. He made admiring comments about my tattoos.

Chemistry seems to be cooking. He buys me a drink and the bartender gives us several shots. Chemistry really starts cooking.

A perfect evening of conversation and mad making out follows. I'm absolutely smitten by the way he carries himself, his smile and a really sweet but funky personality. He tells me my breath smells like koolaid (raspberry and vanilla stoli), that *I* smell good and that he likes my tattoos and messed up hair. Finally... a gay boy who likes me for the things most of them don't like me for...

Anyways, we get smashed. Wind up briefly at my apartment, throwing clothes hear and there and then wrap it up before it goes too far. That's a very good sign.

He's working the next day, which is too bad cuz I'm off. I call him soon after I wake, which isn't very early. He seems glad to hear from me. We make lunch plans for Wednesday. Sushi.

The rest of Monday passes. I run into Shaun and Nick at Trolley Stop eating a late breakfast. Nick leaves for home and Shaun and I head to the Bywater to hang out at Flynn's. Jonno is there, as is Jason, an adorably cute friend of Flynn's. A lot of video game playing and nature photography follows. A bit of pot is smoked, but I just observe and settle for a contact high. A really nice chilled out afternoon.

Then Tuesday comes. Not a good day at all. But, you know about that.

Wednesday. The Boy calls me at 10 AM. A very good sign. We make plans for him to pick me up at 11:45 after he runs. I run around cleaning my apartment. He comes over. We go to Sake Cafe. $48 worth of sushi is consumed while we have a really chilled out, extremely comfortable time. I become even more smitten. And he's even cuter and sweeter than I remember.

Coffee after and then we each have places to be at 3. As he turns on my street to bring me back, he says, "gee, my breath is horrible, coffee and tobacco." I look at him and say, "um, you forgot the fish smell, but, gee, why does it matter?" Heh. I know why it matters. Another good sign. :)

And his breath wasn't horrible at all... And he tells me to call him tomorrow morning before I go to work...

Another good sign...

I sit here tonite wrapped in a gray fog. The events of the day are so unbelievable that they're hard to absorb, but they were also so inevitable that it wasn't really a surprise in a lot of ways. But, I'm still stunned. And horribly horribly depressed.

The footage on TV seems like bad special effects from a low budget movie. In my mind, I continually wonder what it was like for the passengers of the planes, the horror of knowing that their plane was a weapon aimed at a large building.

It's going to be a very long time before the people of our country feel safe again. Living in the larger metropolitan centers will forever carry a feeling of risk that was never there before. Boarding an airplane will carry a feeling of dread to almost anyone. Things are different now. Life has a tangibly different tactile feeling to it now.

It's really quite fascinating to me the way in which this has affected every person, no matter who they are. I didn't cross the path of a single person today who wasn't profoundly effected by it. I don't think of myself as a particularly patriotic person but today my country is hurting. And I am hurting. And I'm not sure why it hurts so much.

Today, I entered a new world. We all did. And it's gonna take a lot of processing to make sense of it.

The Decadence Wrap-Up...

Saturday, I slept leisurely late. Decide to go back to Winkie's and look at those pants again. Wind up buying them. And a belt. And a shirt. *sigh* Then I drive to the Quarter for an afternoon showing of Ghost World. A sublime movie. It's kind of crowded and I, of course, am all teary at the end. The original comic book that it's based on is one of my favorites of all time. The movie juxtaposes quite a few things from it, but does so in a way that is incredibly faithful to its tone. And a way that tells the story better as a film, I imagine.

After the movie, I wander through Saks, picking up a Clarins face thingie. Then I run into the Quarter to say hi to Flynn at Fifi's. And wind up buying nail polish and eyeyliner to use for my glam look later in the evening. The nail polish is called Midnight Cowboy. Gotta love that. It's a skin toned glittery polish, so its barely noticeable.

Back home, some internet chat, dinner from Juans, then I head out to the Quarter for the evening. I try out a glam look for the first time. A velvety shirt, tight striped pants that flare at the bottom, messy hair, eyeliner, nail polish. It feels a little weird but quite fun. And quite decadent.

I run by 735 for a drink and to say hi to Tracy. A guy at the bar buys me a shot. With no prompting, Tracy says "my, aren't you all glammed out tonite." So, I guess the look works. A quick run to the ATM at Good Friends where a guy introduces himself. Not my type. Goofball.

Then to the Shim Sham. The night starts well. I meet two fabu drag queens who are in from San Francisco to hang out with Flynn. They totally kick the asses of NO drag queens. I'm having a blast. Dancing. Chatting with cool people. Running about. Drinking. Drinking too much...

At some point, I become absolutely obliterated. *big cringe* I can only imagine the foolishness that followed. I have vague memories beyond this point. I remember Robert, Steve and Tim arriving at the bar. I'm pretty sure I made a complete drunken ass of myself to Tim, who I'm meeting for the first time... I'm told later that I made out with a good friend, several times... And, at some point, I just wander off on my own... A short while later, I wake a friend up from sweet slumber to come pick my drunk ass up in the Quarter. Only a very good friend puts up with shit like this... And somehow, I've acquired a gaping cut on my scalp. Which, to this moment, no one that was with me that nite knows anything about...

So, Sunday is pretty much spent sleeping and feeling quite ill. QUITE ILL. I finally drag myself to Cafe Roma for some dinner, only about a third of which I manage to get down. While I'm there, my friend Dennis calls. He offers me a free ticket to Submission, the circuit-type party (that costs $60) at the Municipal Auditorium. I say yeah. I come home and rest more. More internet chat. I dress for the evening in simple form, knee length shorts, a black t-shirt and my Chucks.

My friend Wil calls and says that he and a couple guys are heading to the Quarter. I catch a ride with them. I hang with them for a bit in the streets and then when they head into the Pub, I head to party. I'm instantly out of place. I forgot to wear my best circuit wear. No camouflage pants and leather harness for me. No sailor suit either. No angel wings. No glow sticks. No 2Xist briefs. Whatever was I thinking?

I stand on the sidelines and mostly glare at people. I begin a running dialogue in my head about how much I can't stand gay 'culture'. The homogenity is frightening. So many guys thinking that they're creating a 'look' or a 'scene' when all they're doing is recycling the same tired shit over and over again. See above for examples. I also notice how no matter how cute or hot a guy is there, they all dance like a bunch of screaming queens. Doing all their little 'circuit boy' dances. It's like a enormous squad of testoteroned cheerleaders.

And it's really quite obvious that there are a lot of drugs in use. I spot one guy who I think is just absolutely beautiful. Until I get a close look at his crossed drug addled eyes... *sigh*

A few bright spots shine through. There are a small handful of people there who actually achieve a look with style. Little Derek is the champion. He's like some sort of semi-naked Barbella-style sci-fi geekboy from the future, with dayglo watergun. And the boy dances with sheer joy. I really enjoy watching him for a while.

I run into Brad & George from Baton Rouge. Talk to Dimitri aka Amtrakboy a few times. Meet a couple of friends of friends. But, within an hour and a half, I know it's not my scene. I need to be out of there.

So, I head back to the Quarter streets. St Ann is one big avenue of nastiness. I see a cute guy or four, but I can't help but to think that all of these guys have been out there all day and god only knows where they've been and what they've done. So, absolutely no one on the streets seems attractive to me.

I run back into the little group I rode out with. In a very short period of time, they've gotten thoroughly thrashed on hand grenades. It's quite amusing. They're dancing in the street. Running around screaming and trying to see things they don't need to see. It's not very amusing when Wil decides it would be cute to run his finger down my 3 day old tattoo with a lot of force. I don't see it coming and scream so loud everyone around us turns to look.

Eventually, I wander away from the boys and walk the streets alone some more. I run into another sometimes ..obnoxious friend from BR. He has a great mohawk haircut. He's also tweaking a bit on coke, I think...

I also chat a bit with another old BR friend, Mark, and some of his friends. Then I decide it's time to head home.

I walk to the streetcar stop... It's crowded, and no car in sight. I spend about half an hour there. A group of newly arrive Tulane freshmen (3 girls and one male cutie) make conversation with me. One of them starts to ask if I'm in school and then says, "oh wait, probably not, you look older, you must be like 25." Heh. I tell them the true age and inwardly beam as they all say I couldn't possibly be that old.

Just as I've about had it at the streetcar stop, between being bored silly and cruised by an old queen, my cellphone rings. The boys are leaving the Quarter. They run by and pick me up. I can tell the many people at the stop are quite jealous when a brand new Lexus pulls up and I hop in it.

Home. Sleep.

I declare a day of rest for Monday. Absolutely nothing of importance happens...

Tomorrow, i go to a movie...

My Friday nite out...

After spending the day cleaning, rearranging furniture (it was boring me, i needed better chi, etc etc) and baking grilled eggplant, tomato and basil pizzas, I headed on down to Gay Madness Central, aka the Vieux Carre. I try to dress the opposite of Decadence wear. I wear knee length cut offs, boots and a black t-shirt. And my new tattoo.

I ran into an old acquaintance, Dan who used to live in BR & NO and now lives in Seattle, on the bus to the Quarter. Chatted a bit, caught me up on a few people, includind the unexpected encephalitis caused death of one. Yikes. Suddenly mosquitos look a lot scarier...

Once in the Quarter, I head to 735. Takes forever to get in thanks to the idiot in the booth at the front. And *everyone* has weekend passes. Trudge trudge trudge. *mental note to tell Tom about his employee being a slow idiot*

I hang out with Tracy at the bar for a bit and have a couple drinks, but I'm soon overwhelmed by the circuit style beats and circuit style men and realize that if I don't leave I'm gonna stab my eardrums and eyes out. I'm supposed to meet Dave, Robert and company at the Phoenix's block party anyway. Also supposed to run by the Golden Lantern to see Flynn do a little Hedwig performance.

I detour thru the Pub for a bit. Very crowded. All out of towners. I start to pine for a normal weekend out.

Just out of the Pub, I run into someone I barely know, Fernando. He's introducing me to his friends when I realize one of them, Darren, is a an old Baton Rouge person. In fact, he's the first person (along with TimO) that I did acid with. His parents' yard had very pretty yellow flowers in it. Very pretty. Very very pretty. And their wood panelling in their house had interesting designs in it...

Anyways, I wind up being invited to a party with these people. It's a beatiful old apartment just off Jackson Square. It's a creepy mixture of older fags and young pretty boys. I fit in *so* well. A well stocked bar tho. Nice vodka. I get a phone call and while I'm on it, one of the creepy old guys (who was probably my age or younger) comes over and asks "is that your boyfriend? No, well, come talk to me after. You're just too cute." Riiight. Politeness decrees that I do so tho.

Then after repeatedly telling Darren that I don't wanna get high, I get coerced into smoking on the balcony anyway. A couple of hits later and I can't even begin to tolerate the creepy factor of the party. So, i split.

I'm wondering about the Quarter and Marigny just enjoying the leaves on the trees and feeling quite happy to be in my own little world. Happy stoner boy. Then, just as I'm strolling up to a corner on Elysian Fields, Jonno pops out, followed by and entire entourage of Hedwig groupies and Ms Hedwig herself. I am BEYOND coping with this. :)

I hang with them for a bit and make a few attempts at muddled conversation but I'm just generally disinterested in making conversation. Big surprise there. We make the Phoenix's block party and no sign of Dave and company. And the shear ugliness of the mass of pimply cellulite asses in chaps is overwhelming. Once more, no hot leather daddies. They're a myth. They exist only in porn. Grrr.

I make apologies to Flynn and pretty much ignore the rest of the group and split to walk around and looks at the leaves on the trees some more. Then, it begins... all I can think about is the pizza back home. Eggplant. Basil. Tomatoes. Freshwater mozzarella. There's only one sensible thing to do. Go to the pizza.

But, I decide to walk home. It's a long way, but sometimes I quite enjoy it. Last nite was one of those nites. Along the way, I hear a big black guy tell another big black guy that I'm "one fucked up motherfucker". heh. And this makes me different from 90% of the people on the street in the Quarter at 2 am how exactly? I get more than a couple of 'cute' comments. One guy says to his friends "he's just as cute in that same outfit the second time". That was confusing, since I just cut these pants into shorts the night before...

Home. Pizza. A bit of online flirting. Sleep.

Total tally of money spent this weekend going out so far: $22.

I only spent $9.25 tonite. $1.25 on the bus. Free entry into 735. A $2 tip for a free drink. $6 forced on the bartender for drink #2.

Hmmm... suddenly this has turned into the Warhol Diaries... a sign that I need to end this now...