Journal

They’re each wrestling with their feelings over leaving. Willie has to be out of the country by June 30^th. He’s leaving Rochester before that to spend some time in Manhattan. Tomorrow we begin coordinating Danger-Boy’s surrender on his outstanding warrants.

Then, I’ll be alone.

I think Danger-Boy summed it up best tonight when he said, "You can measure the depth of friendship by the comfort you have being quiet." We’ve been very quiet indeed.

Well, maybe not last night. A thunderstorm blew through about 6:30. Wickedly heavy rain and lots of lightening. By 7:30 it was over and the sun had broken through. Danger-Boy and I swung by Willie’s place, picked him up, and we headed to Durand.

Finally, I had remembered to take my green backpack. Among other things it contains, (if you don’t wanna know, don’t ask! J ), are my cameras. So I finally have pictures of all of us. There’s a few more shots on the roll, so it’ll be a week or two before I finish it up, have it developed and scan the prints. Hmmm. Given that there’s a compromising shot or two of Danger-Boy, maybe I’ll put a rush on it. J

Now you’re probably wondering, how could I get compromising shots of Danger-Boy on the beach in a county park and before dark? Well, between Danger-Boy and the contents of the green backpack, all sorts of compromising scenarios are possible. J J It went something like this:

Willie: "Well, I will hold your clothes for you while you go swimming."

Me: "Sure you do!" I root around in the green backpack and produce a bath towel. "Here ya go honey!"

Me: "Oh, let me check." I root around some more in the green backpack. "How about this?" I asked, producing my bathing suit.

Me: "Not it’s not. It’s raspberry."

Willie collapses in gales of laughter.

Me: "Okay, okay." Root around some more. "Here. Denim shorts. No, wait, wait … Here ya go, baby. Black gym shorts!"

Willie: "Why do you have all that in your backpack? Are you going to the gym?"

Me: "No. It’s so I don’t get anything in the breakfast when I stay with someone on a sleep-over."

Willie: "Oh … Ooooohhhh! You are such trash!" as he slaps me on the arm.

Me: "Yeah, and you love me for it too, don’t you!"

We talked a while as Danger-Boy whooped it up in the lake, frightening women, children, dogs and the occasional seagull. I think there was even a Coast Guard alert. The lake is still really cold, and the air had cooled-off some after the thunderstorm, so he wasn’t out there too awfully long.

The compromising pictures came a little while later. Willie and I wondered how Danger-Boy was going to get dressed without getting sand in his pants, socks and shoes. Well, it was quite entertaining. You’ll have to wait for the pics. J

Anyway, what else is news today? We certainly have my family really wondering what’s going on between us! This story starts the other day.

So, alert Customs, the O.P.P., and the R.C.M.P.! Danger-Boy and I are spending Friday, Saturday and Sunday at my family’s place in the Rideau Lakes region of eastern Ontario!

The fun began when I told him that it was only polite that they get to spend a little time with him when we pick up the keys. And Mom said we should stay for dinner. I KNEW the curiosity was killing her! So we swung by tonight for dinner, and a closer inspection of Danger-Boy.

We didn’t really set out to confuse them. But this stuff just kinda happens. Until they all met last Friday at the soccer game, all my parents knew was that I’d met a guy, I like him a lot, and we’re moving to the desert southwest together next winter or spring.

Now it’s a lot easier with Dad. All it really took was an after dinner trip through the gun collection. Just the fact that Danger-Boy knows how to handle firearms safely and properly was good enough. Add to that, the fact that he appreciates the antique muzzle-loaders and is comfortable with the Colt .45 and the Smith & Wesson .357, and well, the boy’s golden.

Mom on the other hand, is completely confused. She didn’t quite know what to make of Danger-Boy before tonight. Now, after she knows he has three kids, holds up a conversation really well, and is completely charming, well, she’s thrown for a loop. I love it. We laughed about that all the way to Willie’s. J

Back to the soap opera.

Willie has made his decisions. He’s going to London for the month of July to visit his sister and look for work. She’s already lining-up interviews for him. Then he’ll fly home to Nicaragua at the end of the month. What happens after that depends on what he finds in London. He’s also considering teaching at university in Nicaragua, and writing a book or two in Spanish about Java, Internet applications or telecommunications. (Apparently the translations available are very poor due to the lack of technical knowledge on the part of the translators.)

He feels forced out of the country because of the way his visa has been handled. He further feels discriminated against because of all the Fulbright Scholars he knows, only those from third-world nations are getting the "bum’s rush" back home. The students here from Western Europe on the other hand, are having no such visa trouble and are staying here. Some are even getting permanent resident alien status. Not so with the students from the third-world. Across the board it’s a case of "you got your degree, now get the fuck out."

Frankly I’m kinda pissed about it too. I mean, just who is the brain-dead bureaucrat who gave him a six-month work visa for a twelve-month job he’d already secured? What does this say about the value the U.S. government places on a U.S. university degree? What kind of message does that send to the employer, the college, Fulbright, and other foreign students?

Do you honestly think Xerox is going to consider other foreign-national graduates of U.S. universities? Do you think RIT is going to bother trying to place it’s foreign-national graduates with U.S. firms, or even bother to take foreign students? Do you think Fulbright (which is run by the U.N.) may consider sending it’s third-world students to other first-world universities? Do you think other students from developing nations may decide to spend their education money elsewhere, where they aren’t treated like this?

End of diatribe.

Willie’s been going through his stuff, deciding what to ship home, what to take to London, what to give away, what to sell and what to trash. He’s given his winter clothes to Danger-Boy, and last night, he gave his dictionary to me. Webster’s New Collegiate Unabridged. I’ve always wanted a real dictionary, and I very nearly bought this one a few months back. I means so much more as a gift.

During one of his more reflective moments last night, Danger-Boy was speculating on what his life would be like right now had we not met five weeks ago tomorrow. He’s off crack, and drinking considerably less. He’s not tricking or stealing to support himself and his habit. He’s addressing some major issues in his life, and learning how to enjoy life without being high. Quite a set of accomplishments in such a short amount of time.

We took the scenic route from my apartment to Muther’s. This little jaunt, ordinarily only two or three minutes, took us nine hours, about $15.00 in gas, and two international border crossings. Along the way we proved we can drive all day together, find a compromise on the stereo settings and NOT KILL EACH OTHER.

Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself, "Self, weren’t Bruce and Danger-Boy going to Bruce’s parents’ cabin in Canada yesterday? How did they wind up at Muther’s last night?"

Well it’s simple actually. They wouldn’t let me into the country. And I have proof. Click here for the official documentation. See?

Now, I’ve been visiting Canada since 1961. I can’t count the number of border crossings I’ve made. This was the first time I’d not just been waved right through after the basic questions.

First let me set things straight. I’m not angry, upset, miffed, pissed or anything like that. We laughed nearly all the way back to Rochester. Now, you know why they turned me back? I’d left my wallet at home. No ID, no entry. Simple as that.

We spent an hour at Canadian Customs. A ton of questions, they search the car, do the divide and conquer thing between Danger-Boy and I, and finally decide: Danger-Boy, "Welcome to Canada." Middle-aged web journalist, "Yankee go home." So we turn around, and repeat the whole thing at US Customs coming back in.

US Customs Inspector: "How long have you been in Canada?"

Bruce: "About an hour. They wouldn’t let me in because I left my wallet at home."

US Customs Inspector: "Pull over to garage two, leave the keys in the car and I’ll meet you inside."

After about a half-hour, they determined that since I hadn’t said "Eh?" once, I must be a US citizen, and I could return to, in the words of the customs inspector, "The good ole U S of A."

We're not sure if it was Canadian Customs, or US Customs.  But at one or the other, our pepper shaker was confiscated from the back seat.

The sunset was nice over the eastern end of Lake Ontario. The ride back was just as much fun as the ride up. Arriving back, we ran into Willie at Muther’s. Naturally, he was surprised to see us. We told the story, more embellished than here of course. He thought it was quite ironic. He can’t stay in the country, and I can’t leave.

The weekend continues…

I’m not ready to write about today. Like yesterday, it’s been tremendously interesting. But in a different way. Tomorrow promises to be equally interesting. Wasn’t there an ancient Chinese curse that went, "May you lead an interesting life."

A few weeks back, Danger-Boy phoned me in the middle of the night to recite one of his poems. As I was writing tonight, he began dictating for inclusion with this entry. I think it says enough.

Whispering winds and melting snow,

I once knew the beauty in me.

Don’t know where I will go,

Mind’s eye no longer sees.

Darkened room. My aching heart,

Betrayed by love gone by.

The ideal dream’s been ripped apart,

Lord knows how hard I’ve tried.

So I take the slack, and spin the wheel,

Tomorrow’s another day.

My aching heart begins to heal,

I know I’ve paid my way.

Now life’s not free, there’s always a price,

Though it doesn’t seem to be quite right.

Tomorrows dream is today’s tragedy,

When one’s soul loses it’s sight.

So I pick up the pieces and carry on,

There’s plenty of time today.

Happiness and love are the things I’ve won,

The price … I’ve already paid.

I cannot keep the pain inside,

I do not remember the last time I cried.

Every day gets a little bit harder,

To push the pain in me just a little bit farther.

I’ve no control of destiny,

Don’t know what else is in store for me.

I’ve lost all concentration,

I walk blind to my next destination

I’ll go where no-one else will go,

Cause I know, what no-one else can know.

A childhood secret, is burning me inside,

I still can’t remember the last time I cried.

I wish I could change what has already been,

And escape reality to the land of my dreams.

But that won’t help, it’s too late now,

So I’ll keep pushing in the pain somehow.

Broken glass in fear of the night,

Alone in my room terrified with fright.

Lost in the darkness trying to find a place to hide,

We went on a mission to Buffalo yesterday. Between his lifestyle and hers, he’s lost track of his mother. We found her ex, his step-father. All he had was a phone number from a couple of months ago. There was no answer when we called.

It was still early afternoon, so we hung out in Buffalo redialing every few minutes. He became disappointed and dejected. We had a couple of beers in a bar in a neighborhood where we’d seen the same telephone exchange on some of the store signs. This was not the best neighborhood Buffalo has to offer.

After a while, Danger-Boy decided we should go to a gay bar. I know the area once I get there, but never having driven myself, I don’t know where in town it is. And I didn’t know exactly where I was either. I got the phonebook from the bartender, looked up a couple of places I remembered the name of, and began calling for directions.

Well, it turns out, this is Buffalo’s Pride Weekend. We got to Buddies shortly after the parade. With all the rainbow flags up and down the street, it was really hard to find. Once I got my bearings though, the gaydar locked-on and we found parking within a block of the place.

He wanted to shoot some pool, and I wandered around the place in search of conversation. I exchanged e-mail and website addresses with a couple of guys. He intimidated everyone off the pool table. Of course this only worsened his mood. We left around 5:30. Still no answer at the number his step-father had given us.

UPDATE: Things are apparently going better with his kids (read: ex-wife) than he expected. They’re going to the beach and he plans to be back here at around five.

Anyway, we were both physically tired and emotionally drained, we were tired of spending so much time in the car, and he was not exactly feeling his best. We wound up having our first real fight. In the car on the way back. It continued right up to the apartment and through dinner. After a bit of crying and learning what really was on each other’s minds, we made up.

There’s a lot more on his mind than he lets on. And it troubles him more deeply than he admits. When he’s feeling down in the dumps, I do my best to cheer him up, joking and needling, but only makes him feel worse. I’ve gotta change my style in that regard, and he’s gotta stop taking it personally. And we each have to find a way of expressing affection that doesn’t get on the nerves of the other.

We’re in an emotionally charged relationship that neither of us really knows how to handle. He has several added burdens and I’m feeling the pinch economically. Add to that the sexual frustrations we each feel and there’s plenty of room for conflict.

I wish I knew how to deal with all this a little better.