Jun 5, 2007

r u gay?

A few days ago the time stopped for a moment while I was walking and a sweet voice suddenly asked, ‘Are you gay?’ I was at a good friend’s house and the person asking had known that I was gay for a bit more than a minute. I was not in drag, and she barely saw me so I had to do what silly people do, reply with a question, ‘what did you say?!’ she apologized and said she did not know anything about gay either, and considering she did not get the humour of the situation she was getting into, I can say she was not a good thermometer, yet she made me realize that I do no know what GAY means, in terms of homosexuality, and tags are never fun, unless you bare HOT, SINGLE, BILLIONARE and WELL ENDOWED, altogether.

So it brought and ancient question to my mind… who am I?

It is too boring I am going to stop.

Home...to Luisito and Katia

There are places in this world that somehow manage themselves to take your breath away. That is the case of my parents’ house a place located in downtown Mante, Tamaulipas. It is a good size property located in a corner, the advantage of living in a corner is that instead of having the next door and in-front neighbours you got plenty more and so it creates a circuit interrupted by traffic, which ends up being the disadvantage when something’s up, there are more eyes and ears to be taken care of. All the traffic and numerous accidents have left a very strange vibe going on; I grew up on this corner, Paniagua and Clavijero, and if it was not enough, my father opened a little store there, so add more people to the salad, despite that, the place is quiet and windy, blistering hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter week. The almond trees in the area are THE place to nest for little birds, the brown ones we all know. I love their singing and so they love the food my mother provides; every once in a while a hock or an eagle or even a possum come here for lunch.

Since I left, when I was fourteen, I can recall every occasion I returned. Not plenty obviously and less and less it is. Fausto and Franka guard the house, noble stud and bitch, are quite noisy when required and peaceful clowns when in need of attention. The afternoon wind moves the leaves of the trees and so a charming sound begins, no cars, no motorcycles it is peaceful and quiet, I am in Neverland.

The drapes dance to the wind flow, the birds sing and the dogs look at you wondering when something is going to happen. Nothing ever happens, never at this time, amazing, the town sleeps and nature blooms. The sunset begins and the colours in the sky change from deep blue, to soft lilac and then to bright orange, then all the purples come and fade to darkness. Long clouds cross the sky; pink, yellow, red and purple are the colours of the season…suddenly the wind stops and you hear nothing but whispers, we all wait for the wind to return and so it does, it is like a spasm, like arrhythmia, then we all smile again. It’s magical, looking at the trees and watching them dance. If you look carefully you can see the birds going back to the nest with food for their offspring, the ants march towards their hole, the lizards appear looking for the soft sunset light to warm them up a little.

Finally, the cars return, the noise is not that much, and so I close the windows, light the garden and my mother brings fresh fruit from the kitchen. We love to eat, and we love to eat in good company. Plums, peaches, grapes and mangos on the table, fresh flowers are presented to make my little sister present when she is not available to come and visit. The family has changed; two members are not there, we do not even talk about them, as my older sister and my self become single again. Men go to the patio and discuss important stuff, soccer games, soccer players drafting, soccer coaches, national soccer team, national soccer team coach, mafia, politics, religion and of course I bring the gay point of view, everybody seems ok with it, a different opinion and it is welcome. Three year old Andrea G. comes out of the house and her sweet little voice announces dinner is on the table. Sopes, tostadas and taquidos, water and coca-cola (light and zero) are on the table, I push play to hear a disc of Huapangos, and then we all sit at the table, a few of us close our eyes for two or three seconds to whisper ‘Thank you God’. Ever since the Narcos and the Zetas have taken control of the state, and have somehow threatened my family’s stability, all music from Sinaloa, Durango or even Nuevo León has been banished from our house.

Katia M. and Luis M. (Niece and Nephew) were not there and that makes you realize how important they are for us, we miss you guys, I know you are fine with your father, and still breaks my heart.

Another reason for gay marriage

It was the fall of 2004, don not picture it with red leaves falling everywhere because it was in Monterrey, Mexico, where fall is a continuation of spring, but rainy and cold. I fell in love with a man, who was and still is, caring and loving, smart and hard worker, handsome and strong. It was internet love, what many people believe can not be trusted, but guess what, in the gay community it is very popular and it has also spread to the heterosexual community all over the glove. International love has grown faster than the global love for LV bags, which took decades. He asked me to come live with him to Toronto, Canada, and after thinking it over a thousand times I said yes. Ups and downs came; happiness was there at times, just like any other relationship. We were getting to know each other on the road, it was good, and seemed to fit perfect for the kind of people we are. We liked to walk to path, happiness is about the journey and all that stuff. I was looking for stability, my then partner was not. He never got tired of new experiences and drew me into it, at the beginning it was perfect, new stuff of all kinds, until he tried to experience things that would not make me proud. He used drugs to get me in the mood and get away with his thing. That created hate but I still loved him and I thought he had a problem with drugs, I was the one with problem of not letting go what was not good for me. Beating, cheating, crying, a self destructing relationship was born and I was caught in the tide. When absolutely nothing went well, and I was formally asked to get out of his life for the third time, I left.
And I left destroyed, I left sad, miserable, and with very few intentions to keep going on. My magic castle had fallen off the spell and so reality hit me. I looked for shelter in my friend Sandra, who was going through a break up process, and she thought I was going through the same, she helped a lot and so did my friend Rolando, an eternal lover. That was my support team. And they did great, I got to see through them that I had been there and done that and that where I stood had been something bigger than words can describe. It did not work for me.
I was going to see my family and my sister was going for her divorce, because the guy she married was unable to ‘make her happy’ her way.
I refused to believe I was living a soap opera, but I was indeed. I was alone, nobody would take the gay break-up talk, it is a myth, gay man cannot fall in love the way men and women do. If they break-up, they get on their fit the next day because the fantasy is over and that’s it. They do not have to go through the legal process and split property, or children or friends. They do not have to break a public commitment celebrated at church and with legal validation in front of hundreds of well dressed people. You gay man, broke up? Big deal!
We had life together, dreams, goals and many things more. My parents could not believe I was sad! Com’on you are dudes! You have a new job, you have your favourite pet, yes kept the others and gave them up to some body else, big deal! You left home with three bags full with clothes and no more, of course you got more than what you earned and spent! I tried to be discrete but next time I will flaunt it!
My spirit is not broken, my heart is, it will heal, soon or not so soon, but It will. My heart is now covered with this black shield called bitterness, like Spiderman and all those feelings will be kept inside. Had it been public and different, had I had the chance I would have not traded it for nothing. At least people would understand that gay love, please call it love, could as well hurt, a lot.

Ali-baba's cave

This morning I was left alone again, and so I decided to explore this property, that has not received a name yet, but is known as La Casa de Tus Papás by my in-laws.

My mother -and this runs in the family- has a problem with physical attachment to things, people and animals. My father decided to build an annex where things would be ordered and stored, filing cabinets and because you might spend a little while there he also added a bathroom. When some relatives come to visit they ask for that annex to be set up as a bedroom, because it can be quite an experience, it is extremely private and fresh most of the year and warm in the winter week, which in Mante is rare. It is now getting messy, because it stores stuff for three generations and my nieces and nephews are very good examples of mass consumption, yet the oldest is 10 years old.

I decided to go there, I call it Ali-Baba’s cave because it is dark and once you light it up and look carefully, you can see treasures. It was completed 4 years ago, it also responds to the growing distances between my parents and where their children were; and I will describe some of the things found here. If I survive both my parents, when they are both gone (knock on wood) this place will hold the hundred years fight, unless somebody moves in here and… no, a fight will definitely take place there.

The first armchair my parents bought is there, we are talking when they got married, 37 years ago and they lived in Acapulco. Next to that is a pile of wood boxes, beginning with the 50’s each box represents a decade of my father’s hobby-no-more, Ms. Photography, so yes, all those embarrassing pictures, naked babies, faces covered in cake icing, cakes, Christmases, new years, graduation –even if it was from kindergarten- christenings, confirmations, first communions, XV años, weddings, passed relatives, my father getting his offspring drunk, him smoking (!), former boyfriends and girlfriends, presents given to my father – lamb, baby pigs, turkeys, veal- and so on and so forth are there.

Do you remember those silly colouring books that you screwed up using only the black Crayola? Baby teeth? Baby Shoes? The candles you lit when you did your first communion? Your oldest sister’s first bra? Your oldest brother’s first Play Boy Magazine featuring LaToya Jackson? Your Boy Scout gear? Somebody’s weird and cheap gay magazine? Your Cepillin record? The winnie-pooh you cried for when it would not stick to the car window anymore? Your crystal growing Mi Alegría kit? A 7.8 kilos IBM think pad? A map of all dead pets buried in the garden with pictures of them on it? A very good Venustiano Carranza beard wore on a Mexican Revolution parade? Sea shells from all beaches in the republic? Fresh water Shells? Shells from deserts? Shells from stores? Star fish from the Gulf of Mexico? Star fish from the pacific? Star fish from the Caribbean? One of Pamela’s exoskeleton –fangs included-? A 35 year old baby Jesus and his substitutes? Your first microphone? A black and white portable radio-alarm-tv? Garibaldi, José José, Yuri, Calo, Air Supply, Rick Astley, Enrique Rocha cassettes? Flutes? Guitars? Cowboy boots and hats? Your cedar crib? Your cedar bed with the original bed head? Official Mexican Flag? PRI paraphernalia? Clothes from 5 decades? Accessories like sun glasses, hats, shoes, gloves, necklaces, earrings? French dolls? Japanese dolls? An army of Barbie’s? Hot Wheels? Care bears? Trompos? Baleros? Dominos? Home made Resorteras? 12 sets of Turista Mundial? Foot ball? Volley Ball? Your first tennis racquet? Trophies? Medals? Diplomas? Two versions of the Bible? Qumran? Chilam-Balam? Popol Vuh? Quixote? Octavio Paz’s, García Marquez’s, Pellicer’s and Villaurrutia’s complete Opuses? Suite cases filled with souvenirs and postcards? My three siblings’ weddings centrepieces –which can be used anytime, just get fresh flowers-? Fossils? Rocks? Quartzes? Dried leaves? Dried flowers? Feathers? A picture of a red, green and purple chick –that turned into real hens and then eaten covered in Mole-? A picture of a two headed cow? Mugs from theme parks? Tequila shot glasses? Atari? Nintendo? Betamax? Guns that look like jewellery? ... I will keep looking around!

Jun 4, 2007

le muevo la panza por una ayuda?

Si, definitivamente el peso paso de moda, ahora es por una ayuda, digamos que el costo de la vida en Acapulco ha subido. Tengo el temor de adoptar el acento, Dios protegeme del acento costeño tanto como me proteges de mis enemigos.

Ya llegué, ya estoy aquí y el domingo pasado salí a caminar por la costera M. Alemán, y dos niños al unisono me recitaron cierta poesía que incluia "le muevo la panza" y terminaba en "para comprar el pan"! les di unos pesos por la bienvenida y enseguida vi a un señor en huaraches y calcetas blancas... finalmente me cayo el 20, estaba en Acapulco.

Día con día me voy adaptando mas a mi trabajo, mis reponsabilidad y mi vida en este puerto, que aunque bello, muestra un retraso impresionante comparado con otras áreas resort del país. Al parecer esta mejorando, pero aun no ha llegado el verdadero cambio y no tengo nada en contra de los amarillos... pero por el bien de la ciudad en la que hora vivo, les deseo éxito para todos.

La prueba mas grande de haberme mudado a esta ciudad es empezar una nueva vida, de crecimiento y éxito. Los ultimos meses han estado cargados de mucha energía emocional negativa que me ha dejado agotado de las presiones de los egos ajenos. Intolerante es como me defino y mi visión de lo que quiero y lo que no se ha ampliado.

Aunque suene a broma a mis 25, después de cerrar un círculo tan definitivo en mi vida y con un nuevo trabajo, las cosas se presentan mas claras, el horizonte es mas amplio y la necesidad y el deseo han cambiado de posiciones. La capacidad de voltear y mirar al pasado y entender y aceptar la responsabilidad de tus actos, es una posibilidad siempre abierta, toma una experiencia que te cambie la vida para darte el valor de hacerlo, siempre ha estado ahí tu pasado, que no puede ser mejor maestro para conocerte y mejorar algo si sientes que así se puede hacer.

Dios me ha llenado de bendiciones, y de verdad no me puedo quejar, tienes que aprender a tomar las cosas buenas del camino de la vida...

Por otra parte Turquía me ha tomado por sorpresa y aunque no es desierto, me ha brindado un oasis.

Mi depa esta muy padre y Teddy es feliz con este calor, quiero aprovechar para agradecerle a Rolando por todo el apoyo y a Sandrita por su hospitalidad, nunca lo voy a olvidar.

Y si quieren escuchar a los vengaboys en un antro, ver hombres en huaraches y calcetas blancas... este es el lugar!

God Speed!