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These are two stories I wrote forever ago. The purpose of both is to introduce several characters I intend to use in various stories. These characters are a family in my head still and I will one day start recounting their lives. I hope you enjoy this, their Genesis.

American Dream [or Yesterday Hurts] (Revised Version)

I still can’t believe I am here. I just can’t stand this. I guess I can’t say I’m lucky, but I can’t say I don’t deserve it either. Rejection that is. It still hurts, and I think the worst part is that I can’t do anything about it. I started with good intentions; I am not a bad woman. I had the chance to have a family like I dreamed of doing, and I loved every moment of it. I married a seemingly wonderful man and had two beautiful boys, Chad and Ivan. I love them so much.

One day though, my husband left me. He ran off with a woman with perfect teeth and big breasts. I hated her then. Maybe I still do. But why shouldn’t I? I was a good wife and was still a damn good mother, but sometimes, you know, that thing inside you, that desperation, just needs something to make life easier, so I drank. I wasn’t a heavy drinker at first, not really. I just had a little in the evening. It made it better, the pain that is. I knew it was getting worse, but I tried not to think about it.

My drinking started getting worse. My children were suffering from my neglect, I realize that now, but I still had to have something. It seemed to be what I needed. I soon turned to abuse. Oh, I would never become physical with them, but sometimes it seems that words hurt worse. They do. I know that now.

Ivan was my baby, and he was only eleven at that time. The divorce and the pain of knowing what his father had done had gotten to him and I guess he was pretty depressed. I didn’t see it then, I do now. I feel so bad for not noticing he was hurting. As his mother I should have been there for him. But I was too busy being comforted by my bottle of whatever it was I was drinking. My other son, Chad was twelve. He ignored the situation. He would go spend time at his friend’s house and wander around the neighborhood.

I didn’t try. I only made things worse. I love Ivan; I really do. But he is different. I knew back when he was five and six that he might be gay. I started calling him “fag” and “fruit” and any other name I could think of. The names made me feel better at first, but would always make me feel worse in the end. He would cry and sit up in his room. I heard him. I didn’t care. I mean, I did care, but I didn’t do anything. I guess I’ve been a lousy mother. I know Ivan didn’t even know why I called him those names, not that there is an excuse. He understands now. He came out to his aunt about a year ago. They have been so supportive of him, and I think he might even have a boyfriend. I guess I am proud. Not that he is gay, but that he is happy. At least he is. He never told me he was gay. Chad told me. I felt terrible when I heard that and wondered if it was my fault. No wonder he hates me.

Anyway, my drinking somehow led to drugs. I didn’t really expect it to, but it did. In the back of my mind I told myself that it couldn’t happen. It seems that Chad knew it would. Ivan didn’t want to be around me enough to figure it out, so I don’t think he knew I went that far. He probably knows, but I hope not. I love those boys and never wanted to hurt them, but I knew when I started that they would be taken away when anyone found out. I regret my drug use now, but it is too late for that, I guess.

I sent my children to stay with their aunt, my ex-husband’s sister. She is a good woman, and treats my kids wonderfully. She is Ivan’s biggest support. I love her so much for treating my baby so well. I think sending them there was the best thing for my kids. A few days later I called to the rehab center. I was so nervous and embarrassed, but I knew I had to do that for my boys. Chad was fifteen then, and Ivan was fourteen. He hadn’t said two words to me in three months. I deserved it, I guess. I was in rehab for six months. I couldn’t believe I had to miss both of my kids’ birthdays. Chad turned sixteen on the first of March. Ivan turned fifteen on St. Patrick’s Day. He has always been proud of his birthday. It makes him feel special to have a holiday birthday.

I had given custody of the kids to their aunt . She would have given them back, but because of my rehab I had to go to court to prove myself. It was ruled that the boys would make the decision to come home with me or not. I think I wouldn’t have gotten them at all if they had been younger. Anyway, Ivan has never been a leader. I really expected him to do whatever Chad did. I knew Chad would come with me. We have always been close. The boys were given another week at their aunts to make a decision. In that time, I rented myself an apartment and applied for some jobs. They were small jobs, but I figured they would have to do.

A week later I showed up to pick up the kids. Chad was ready. His bags were stuffed haphazardly, like he couldn’t have had any less time to pack, though he had a week. No one said a word as Chad gave me a hug and ran out to put his stuff in the car. Eighteen and still a mama’s boy. Ivan was leaning on the wall, like he was hiding. He looked like he was mad, but he was about to cry. He didn’t even look at me. I think he wanted to, but he didn’t. A got one of those lumps in my throat. I wanted to cry. I didn’t though. I just went home with Chad. On our way home, I cried. Chad starting saying that Ivan was a jerk and couldn’t believe he didn’t come. That day Chad called Ivan a “fag” and it killed me. I started crying. Chad said he didn’t mean it, and almost started to cry, I think. Ivan and Chad loved each other. They had to. Without each other they had no one. Well, they had their aunt, but they still needed each other.

Being rejected by one of my children really hurts. I mean, I knew it wouldn’t be a good feeling. But Chad was at home, and I still felt as bad as I did before. I guess I was ashamed of myself for everything I had ever done. But I still loved my baby, even if he did hate me.

I started my new job, waiting tables. It wasn’t much, but it helped and the apartment was small enough to make up for the difference. It felt empty without Ivan, Chad told me Ivan had never felt like he belonged in the family. I wish he knew how much I loved him.

About a month passed and I decided to go talk to Ivan. I wanted to let him know how much I loved him. I went to see him at his aunt’s. I called for him and he didn’t come. His cousin told me he had locked himself in the cedar closet. I went to the closet and tried to open it. It was locked. I knew it was a stupid idea to put a lock on a closet door. said that the first time I saw it there. He wouldn’t talk to me. I could hear familiar music. I had bought a tape for his tenth birthday. It was all he had wanted. He had wanted it for so long. He still had it. I started to walk leave when Ivan knocked on the door three short knocks. I knocked back twice. Those knocks were kinda our little thing at our old house. His room was next to the master bedroom. I would knock three times and he would always knock back twice. It was kinda like saying “I love you” I guess. As soon as I had finished, Ivan slipped one of his paintings he had done under the door. The background was black and gray, with a red heart. In the heart two people, one with long hair the other with short hair. I turned it over and on the back was a note: “I love you mom. Ivan” I didn’t thank. I just left. I didn’t know what to think. I had the painting framed. It is hanging in my living room now. Ivan has still never seen it, and he has still not spoken to me. I decided soon after to look for some support. Divorce is hard, but I took mine too far. It destroyed my family and we will never be the same, not that we were ever really happy. I am so happy to have found this group. I hope you can help me relieve some of the hurt. Thank you.

Brian Fuchs 5.23.1998

Character: Jean (Original Version)

Jean walked swiftly into work at nine fifteen and sat at her desk, stopping a moment to catch her breath. “Hi Jean” Sue said from the next desk.

“Oh… hello,” Jean started, “Ivan was over last night and I took him to school and I had to get gas. It’s been a long morning…did I miss anything?”

“No. It’s been a slow here.”

Jean allowed herself time to worry about Christine, as she always did. Christine had married Jean’s brother, Robert, and when he ran off with another woman, Jean became closer to Christine and checked on her frequently. Christine would slip into periods of depression sending her children to stay elsewhere. Ivan almost always ended up at Jean’s. He was close to Brooke, Jean’s daughter. The two would talk about school and their parents acted so much alike. His brothers would end up at a friend’s house or at Jean’s mothers, but never together. Jean constantly worried about them. She does this too often, Jean thought to herself, she is missing her children grow up. With that, Jean decided to go talk to Christine after work as she always did when Christine was like this. She was too stubborn to let Christine waste her life away.

By four that afternoon, Jean’s mind was racing in anger. “I’m going early, Sue.”

Jean pulled up to Christine’s house, being sure to lock the doors as she got out of the car. She walked up on the porch. The glass on the storm door was still missing. Christine had thrown a mantle clock through it when Robert walked out on her. Jean rang the doorbell. Receiving no answer, she fumbled angrily for her key and walked in. She sighed as she walked through the house. The laundry was in heaps in the living room and the dirty dishes overfilled the kitchen sink. “Chris?” she called. “Chris….” She went back in the kitchen. On the table, among various bills and schoolwork from the kids, there was a note:

Jean- I knew you would come. I had to leave for a while. I don’t know how long I will be gone. -C

Jean’s eyes widened as she read the note. She didn’t how to take it. The anger she felt turned into guilt and she stood there with the note in her hand, her mind racing with where Christine could be. She stuffed the note in her purse and left.

When she got home, she wasn’t sure what to do. “Ivan!” she called. “Ivan?”

“What,” Ivan asked calmly, appearing from the den. Jean ran up and hugged him. He was taller than she was, which made it difficult, but she held on tight. Ivan reluctantly put one arm around her. She let him go and just stood there, looking at him. “Dinner will be ready at seven and Jerry will be home then.” Jean turned and walked into the kitchen and phoned her mother. Ivan looked over at Brooke and raised his eyebrows in confusion. Brooke shrugged her shoulders.

They ate in the den. Jean was not chatty as usual. She explained what had happened and they were completely silent. “I’m going to bed,” Ivan finally said, not having finished his meal. Jean got up, found him some blankets and told him to sleep on the floor in Brooke’s room if he wanted. Jean couldn’t sleep that night. She worried about Christine. Ivan cried himself to sleep and Brooke fell asleep soon after Ivan’s crying stopped.

Ivan woke up with a sharp pain in his stomach. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or guilt or sadness.He had spent much of his time like this lately, but now that his mother had gone, the pain was much greater. Ivan had become a master of confusing himself. He would tell himself one thing, while he would want it not to be true so badly that he would tell himself that. He did that with his mother. He did not want her to be gone so much that he would build up a deep denial and feel she had not run away.

“Honey… better get up and get ready for school.” Jean said solemnly as she passed by Brooke’s door.

“Okay.” He said, with a deep crackle of morning in his voice.

Ivan sat in class, trying carefully to look as if he was listening. As his first-hour teacher explained quadratic equations, Ivan’s mind raced and his stomach ached. It was still early enough that his eyes were sore from last night. He thought mainly of his mother, but he would occasionally have an out-of-the-blue thought about the history test next week, how he felt he wasn’t normal like other teenaged guys with their girlfriends. He knew that he wasn’t going to have a girlfriend; he did not want one. But then, he would think about his mother, sharpening the pain in his stomach.

“Ivan!” the teacher said.

“Oh… what?” Ivan said trying to sound likr he misuderstood the question.

“Can you work problem twenty-seven on the board?”

“No… I need to go to the office… I don’t feel well.”

When Jerry arrived at the school, Ivan was sitting on a bench in front of the building, hugging his knees for comfort. He grabbed his bag slowly and seemed to crawl into Jerry’s truck.

“Hi Ankle…” Ivan said slowly. Jerry was called “Ankle” by the entire family. When she was younger, his brother’s daughter could not say Uncle Jerry, therefore she called him “Ankle Cherry.” The name stuck and Jerry was now so used to it, he didn’t notice.

“Upset?” Jerry asked, trying to sound compassionate.

“I feel sick.”

“Yeah?”

“My stomach hurts… and my eyes… “

“Well, you just need some rest.”

“Yeah, probably…”

Jerry dropped Ivan off, as to get back to work as soon as he could. Ivan went up to the garage door, entered the code and went inside.

Brian Fuchs 3.31.1998

Featured Image Art: Mark Rothko, “White Band No. 27”

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3+17+1997=10 or “Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.” -Frank O’Hara

This might mean nothing to anyone but me, but it felt important to share it. Today, St Patrick’s Day, 2007, marks the 10th anniversary of me coming out to my friends as gay. It has been quite a journey, but this is an account of what happened before. To understand the full extent of where I am, it is important to first understand where I was. This poem by Frank O’Hara expresses it in ways I couldn’t.

February

The scene is the same,
and though I try to imagine
plinking starry guitars,

and while I spend my
time listening to a foreign
contralto sing the truth,

the earth is everywhere,
brown and aching. At first
it seemed that this life

would be different: born
again in someone else’s
arms, after seasons of childhood

and error and defense.
I thought freshly and tried
to change the color of my

habit. New metrics would be
mine in this excess of
love! but I was a braggart

to hope so. My old hurts
kept attacking me at odd
moments, after too many

songs, on public conveyances,
in the blue light of bars. Ah!
I cried, do not blame me,

save your temper for the
others! and at the same instant
in the same breath cried,

break me! I dare you, for
which of us am I? you will
break yourself! And this

became only too true, the
worst of all possible vistas,
my lone dark land.

–Frank O’Hara

That was me. It still is from time to time, wondering how my life is really different and hoping that I have really changed — grown. I was lost. I had desperately tried to force myself into someone I am not, agrily trying to “not be gay.”

The feeling that I was different started as early as 5 or 6. I didn’t know how, but I felt like there was something about me that wasn’t “normal.” What’s more, as a young child, I knew that there were things I needed to hide from my parents — things they wouldn’t understand. I don’t know how we come to these conclusions. My first crush on a boy happened in 4th grade, but I didn’t think much of it.

I remember a number of times during church activities, specifically Bible Bowl, when I would drift off into my own world of introspection, wondering how much love I would find in these people if they knew this awful truth about me. I pretended to have crushes, marking my papers with the most obvious name, hoping to be caught pining for one of my teammates. I quickly became outspoken over my disdain for the public education system’s willingness to teach homosexuality as acceptable. I was turning on myself and was only 14.

The one thing I took away from that part of my life was self-loathing. And I could have ended up with some great experiences and memories, but the pain of being something you don’t want to be was very difficult to deal with.

A couple years later, I found myself washing dishes daily at my first job. I had gotten in through a series of somewhat unusual events, but was enjoying it greatly. I had started to realize that I would have to face this part of myself. I couldn’t hide behind hatred any longer, but I was terrified at what that would mean.

The climate of the world for gays was very different in 1995 & 1996. From my teenaged perspective, it seemed like the dark ages. I didn’t want to indetify with them. There were no gay characters on television, no role models. If I were to accept being gay as who I actually am, I felt that I would be giving up; giving in to what I had been taught to believe is wrong. Furthermore, I was saying to the world that I accepted that I would have no place to fit in; no safe place to run to when life became too much.

Let me back up for just a second. I don’t actually remember my parents (or their parents) having ever spoken about the issue of homosexuality. I never had reason to believe they had thought about it at all. Neither do I recall any lessons in church concerning it. I remember lessons on love and compassion, but never about how wrong gays were. My lessons on this subject were from specific people, friends, who had “moral” objections to certain “lifestyle choices.” I didn’t want to be anything that would upset these people.

I was feeling rather exhausted about the whole issue and was no longer doing well in school. I spent my days worrying about turning into this pariah I didn’t want to be, all the while sitting in the car with my friends, or over at their house, a little removed from the group… from the situation. I was starting to feel like I was enormous, trapsing around people’s houses, hopind desperately to blend in and not be noticed, but failing. I started to discuss issues with my coworker and friend, hoping to find wisdom in her words. It turned out to not be so easy.

In June 1996, I made one of the weirdest mistakes of my life. I went on a class trip to France for 2 weeks. The teacher going with us was unable to attend at the last minute, due to a medical emergency, and I was left with a group of students, all a year older than me, who wouldn’t even talk to me or include me in their group… and the teacher wouldn’t be there. My 2 weeks in France would basically be on my own. And so they were. I befriended a few people from a group from Idaho, but basically did my own thing. As long as I was on the bus when I was supposed to be, nobody seemed to take much notice.

Everything was going great, until a rainy day in Paris. There wasn’t much we could go do that evening, but the guys I was sharing a room with went to hang out with the girls, so I was alone… with my thoughts… and having been in France for a few days, the newness having worn off, I was thinking about the same things that kept me sad and angry at home. That night I accepted it. I didn’t like it, but I realized that I couldn’t be anyone but who I am. The rest of the trip was very hard; I barely enjoyed myself. I would hang out with the bus driver, Kamal, or our tour guide, Arnaud, at almost every stop. I didn’t feel like I should be there anymore.

My biggest regret about that trip is not hiding my bitterness when I returned home. My family and friends were waiting at the gate to greet me; I was so happy to see them. But I was difficult and cranky and spoiled the mood for everyone.

I spent most of my senior year trying to convice people I was straight. But a huge weight had been lifted. The distraction that made the previous year so hard was gone, but I would eventually need to tell someone else.

Travis, one of my two best friends, had spent spring break in Mexico (I think), leaving myself and JD to spend a fun filled week of working more hours at our jobs. We did want to do something though, so we spent the week at my uncle’s cabin just outside of town. Travis returned that weekend and we all hung out on Sunday. I was a little down; Travis could tell. I drove home, talking to Travis on the CB (yes, it’s true) the entire way. He had followed me and pulled in behind me at my house. He and I talked about things. I wasn’t really ready to tell him everything, but I told him that I could never see myself marrying a woman and having kids with her. If felt like enough for that moment. He was very comforting, much more so than most friends. He told me that JD had asked if Travis thought I was gay. Travis laughed it off as a silly notion. I felt extremely exposed.

The next day was my favorite holiday of the year, St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t know why I love it, but I do. The first thing I did in my first class was to write a letter, expressing to both Travis & JD how I felt and about who I am. I told them of the many days, wanting to no longer live. I told them how painful it had been to let them down. And I told them that I am gay. I couldn’t face them, knowing that I was losing my two best friends.

I had an eye appointment and then work after school. I was almost finished at work when Travis & JD showed up. I tried to avoid them, but they seemed angry. I just walked out to the parking lot, letting them follow me. I intended to go home and forget the day had ever happened. But my car was missing. Defeated, I got into Travis’ car. We drove around a little; they told me they had gotten permission from my mom to keep me away all night. They told me that they didn’t care that I am gay, but they were angry that I had been so depressed and didn’t tell them.

Somehow, we ended up at Red Lobster, where they continued to assure me that they still loved me. It felt nice, but was painful at the same time. We drove around for a long time, talking (I was crying). I think I stayed at Travis’ that night. And that was it. It was done. I didn’t have to hide myself anymore. The last few months we lived in Stillwater were the happiest as a teenager that I can remember. Life had been so painful for me for so long.

A month later, Ellen Degeneres came out, bursting the doors wide open for gay men and women everywhere. It felt good to be a part of something from the begining. It still does.

I didn’t tell my family for a long time after this, but I will save that for another time. It deserves the same attention.

Today, I am very happy with who I am. It feels so good to be me and I am glad I came out when I did. I hope that there is a day when being gay doesn’t break children into secrecy. I hope that day comes soon.

St Patrick’s Moon

St Patrick’s moon shone
gently on us as we left
Texas, back to our lives.
The brief stays seem sad
and this was the last visit
with all of us single.

St Patrick’s moon shone
on the new baby — born
to make some forget
the tragedy its birthday
marked — the sadness of
this anniversary of death.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the just-cracked blinds
on Laurisa’s face — the new
life growing within her body.
More family, more joy,
more love to make us forget.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the rear window of
JD’s car onto my face as
I smiled. My life seems
to be getting closer to real.
I laughed a little because
life can be so wonderful.

Brian Fuchs (3.17.2003)

17 March 2007

Images: photo of Frank O’Hara; illustration of Celtic knot shamrock; photo of Brian; photo of Brian & JD

Featured Image Art: photo of Brian in Red River, NM

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When Heather & I made plans to see this movie, I didn’t think I would like it. It looked like it was self-important silliness masquerading as serious clichéd arthouse cinema. I was wrong.

Shortbus is one of the most beautiful movies I have seen. I was so moved on a number of levels, but I would want to ruin anything by giving away even a small portion of the plot. I cannot think of a greater assemblage of fine actors in recent films; each one flawlessly executed his or her particular role. I cared about every character, even the minor ones.

I will own this one. I highly recommend that everyone see this film. I won’t lie, 87.2% of you will be offended. But for those who can let the film move you in the ways it should, I believe this one will be quite an experience for you. Bonus: Freakin’ great soundtrack!

Up To The Challenge?

Apparently, things aren’t going as swimmingly at work as I would’ve hoped they were. I have been pretty flaky, but I thought nobody had really noticed. Wrong. I was spoken to about getting my work done and was forced to step up and be efficient. I am more than capable. I love my job & really get irritated when I perform below my own standards. I guess I have just been in a funk.

One of these days, I am going to amaze bossman with my talents. Oh, I will.

Meanwhile, I feel oddly inspired by Shortbus, but the things I am inspired to do would actually make me happy. I’m not sure we can have that!

Images: stills from Shortbus (2006)

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Great Expectations:
I had been looking forward to dinner with my Tulsa friends since I made plans to be in Oklahoma. But when it came time for it to happen, there was nobody around to eat with. I am excluding Jess & Justin, who I love, but talk to fairly regularly. I couldn’t wait to see Meghan, Emily, Jeff, Jill, Molly, Marla… someone. But none responded tothe invite.

I had a great dinner with Justin & Jess. We went briefly to Target, where I got a shirt to wear so I didn’t have to drive home from the club smelling like an ashtray. Then we decided to eat at On The Border. I love that place and was not disappointed in last night’s fare. And I ordered my Sprite, no ice, with limes. Limes, being not expensive here, are generously given. I got an entire glass full. I love it.

I wanted to spend more time with Justin, but he had to wake early, so he had to go. I made plans to spend more time on Tuesday. I can’t wait to see him. He is so important to me. The three of us went to Barnes & Noble, where I had hoped to find a magazine. I did not. I did, however, get to see Bettina, Ray, Jill, & Matt. I really do miss that place, but I am glad I am making Borders my home now.

Of Unicorns & Men:
Jess & I went to The Majestic for some dancing fun. It was just as I remembered it, a loud, dark, sweaty place where shirts don’t stay on for long. Everyone was gyrating and having a great time. It was the Halloween celebration and costumes were out in full force. Many an angel graced the club — one in particular repeatedly poked his sharp wings into my back. I liked it more than I should.

Of course, all of these costumes led to a contest, hosted by a unicorn. The costumes were sad. The gays should be able to do better, but the evening was pretty fun. I love the darker music of Halloween clubbing. Jess remarked that it was a good thing I changed out of my “Unicorn Rodeo” shirt before getting there. I was thinking I wish I hadn’t. That attention would have been okay.

I love dancing and really need to go more often. Anchorage needs a good gay club.

The rest of this week should prove fun. I am very excited that I got to go to Tulsa. I really miss Tulsa. It still feels like home to me. I could easily move back today and not miss a beat. But now Anchorage is also feeling like home and would surely miss it just as much… or at least the people.

Images: Peter Stanick, art of woman; unknown cartoon illustration

Featured Image Art: AI image (created using Wonder AI)

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Boys:
Blah. Where are the boys?

DVDs I can watch over and over:
•Boondock Saints
•Donnie Darko
•Office Space
•Moulin Rouge
•Friends (any season)
•Queer As Folk (any season)
•Will & Grace (any season)
•I’m The One That I Want – Margaret Cho
•Metrosexuality
•Futurama (any volume)
•Zoolander
•Dogma
•Adventures Of Priscilla Queen Of The Desert

These aren’t necessarily my favorite movies, just what I tend to pop in. Now, that’s a list that makes me look gay!

Work:
Our store manager is back from her vacation. Hopefully, she had a great time and will be a joy to work with. She usually is anyway. I think I have decided that I definately want to come into a large sum of money so I will never have to work again. It would be nice to be independantly wealthy, even if I continued to work. Blah. I guess that is the American dream though: to be filthy rich and sit around all day.

Mom:
I am reading Straight Parents, Gay Children to see if my mom would benefit from it, and I really think she would at this point.

Featured Image Art: still from The Boondock Saints (2000)

originally posted on Xanga

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Mom:
I just received an e-mail from my mom about living with your sins. While the point will not be lost, I will not be applying it to being gay. I just can’t since I don’t believe that this is wrong. She is trying though and I sent a very lengthy e-mail explaining how I feel about several issues, including my position on gays and Christianity and how I feel less loved than my straight brothers. It was kinda crazy, but oh well.

pathetic.org
I posted quite a bit on my poetry site last night! I am excited to be a part of it again.

Self:
I am officially lonely again. I just want someone to share my life with…

Robby:
He had been busy and I am neurotic!

Family:
E-mail I sent to my mom. Her response follows.

From: fuchsboi@***.net
Subject: Mom… a few things
Date: July 23, 2004 6:37:12 AM CDT
To: (mom)

whosoever

This is an online magazine about and for gay Christians. It might be helpful for you to take a look at it.

Mom, one very important issue we do need to discuss is the difference in our individual beliefs on homosexuality. I do not believe that it is a sin to be me. I do not believe that ANY act of love is a sin, including all varieties of love between two men. It is very important to me that Jesus never spoke on this subject.

I have some books I will bring you that cover a lot of what I feel. I do not agree 100% with them, but the basics are there. There are no passages in the Bible which, in the original form, discuss gay men or lesbians. The closest is in Romans. But even this one discusses leaving natural relations with the opposite sex for the same. This makes no sense in my case, as I have a natural inclination to the same sex.

Somewhere along the way, I shook off the dogma I was raised with. I am so glad I did too. Earthly issues and Earthly things will not matter when we die. Not to us, and not to God. Why are we so worried about following some set list of regulations for personal conduct to gain access to a proverbial heavenly gate? There is no such place. Heaven is all around.

Here is the way I see the things we refer to as “Heaven” and “Hell:”
Heaven: A state of pure bliss for your soul, in which you feel the love of God at its purest. Always able to directly communicate and feel God. You become a part of God, in a way.
Hell: A state for your soul in which you have absolute knowledge that God exists, but you may not hear him, feel him or know the love he has to offer. This is a self inflicted existence. Your soul has become corrupted and evil.

I know that didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but there it is. God has bigger fish to fry than who I am attracted to.

Another thing that is extremely important for you to know is how much being gay defines me. I used to think that being gay is just a small part of who you are — like have freckles or blonde hair. That isn’t what someone is about, just identifying traits. I now feel 100% different. Being gay is who I am. Every decision I make is affected by it. I view the world with it on my mind constantly. And my future is dictated by it. I am a gay man, not just a man who happens to be gay. I will not have the traditions, father the children, be a part of any of that normality. It doesn’t bother me like it used to. Sure, those things would be great, but I now know I can live a wonderful and fulfilling life. I just had to redefine my goals. Again, every part of my life has to do with being gay.

I also don’t want pity. I am over it. No, we haven’t discussed it, but I am gay and have known for nearly ten years now. I admitted it to myself eight years ago and I knew something of it when I was a very young kid. I can share those things with you if you want. They are the dirty little secrets and I will understand you not wanting to hear them. But they are precious to me. They are my memories. I knew when I was at Rainbow.

I am glad you want to understand, but I know who I am now… I have for a long time. I am sorry that you missed out on that — you don’t even know how bad I feel for that. I had to do it alone, but I want you to ask questions if you need to, but be careful not to try to change who I am. I already figured it out, even if I didn’t share. This sounds terrible and I really meant it to sound nice… Hmm…

I really love you and really miss being so close. I hope we can take care of that now!

Brian

p.s. I have to tell you the most horrible thing I did recently. I was talking to Lori (because I had a date that didn’t go very well) about how I was tired of not being able to talk about being gay with my family. I basically told her that I didn’t feel like I was as loved as my straight brothers because I had to hide my life — I am the dirty little secret. I was crying as I told her this. I then told her I would never feel like my parents loved me — meaning the real me — until they asked me casually if I was seeing anyone or if I had a boyfriend yet or some other sort of question one would ask about me having a girlfriend if I was straight. And I meant it. This was about one week before you called. I had cried out to God about it… my heart hurt so much… and He answered. I am so happy that you called (even if you had to drive to the top of a mountain) because it showed me just how much I am loved. Equally. That was of such importance to me and I know I should never have doubted it… Thank you again. I love you.

From: (mom)
Date: July 23, 2004 8:34:18 AM CDT
To: fuchsboi@***.net

thank you so much Brian- loved your email and you should be kicked in the butt for thinking your mom or dad thought less of you, we have always loved you-period. … mom

Featured Image Art: unknown comic image

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Mom:
So my mom called this evening. She wanted to talk about the “gay thing.” I only told her 5 years ago… she still hasn’t figured it all out. But it was so wonderful… she wants to talk about it, understand it, and have it be a part of our lives (not just my secret). She still is uneasy with it, but she is making an effort and that is so great. I cried a lot after she called and then called Travis because it is nice to talk to old friends in these happy times (and in sad times). I am elated that she shared what she was feeling and wants to treat me like my brothers… that is all I have ever wanted. She has seriously made my year! …

Caught!:
Okay, okay… I was up into the wee hours of the morning. I just could not sleep. My entire body itches from the stupid sunburn. ITCHES! I just got some itch relief though… thank God. Now maybe I can sleep like a normal person. Thanks for worrying though… I like it when people are concerned about me!

Work:
So I spent about 75% of my time doing or thinking about work… which was pretty good for my first day back. I actually decided I like work after today. It was all just stress built up. The 25% that I was not working I was writing. I will post what I wrote when I have it finished. It needs revision. I really like retail, which is weird. I grew up thinking of it as crap work, but it can be rewarding. I am glad that opinion changed. I never like looking down on people.

Justin’s Birthday:
We went to Casa Bonita for Justin’s birthday dinner. It was good, but they no longer had cloth napkins. We were all taken aback by the bins full of rolled paper. Casa Bonita was one of the last places holding on to the cloth napkin… and it was quite nice. We ate (too much), took pictures of Justin opening gifts, and spent some time in the arcade. I love ski ball! I didn’t play anything else last night… God that is fun. We took Justin back to Patrick’s (after I borrowed a movie I had given as a gift ). It was a fun night and I can’t wait for the picture I took of Jess eating… she was not happy with me at all.

Featured Image Art: altered photo by Dustin Humes (via Unsplash)

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Today:
Happy 4th all!

Becky:
She responded. She already knew. It all feels so silly now, having faced it. I had 3 people in my life left to share this with and the 2 I just told already knew… I guess it is naive to think they wouldn’t have figured it out by now. I am 24… My older brother, Brent, won’t have figured it out, I think. I don’t plan on telling him for some time yet, but I don’t expect much out of it. He is very judgmental, or can be.

Me:
As is apparent to the world at this point, I have been really frustrated and in pain lately. I honestly don’t know what set me off, but I am just upset about life. I try not to be; I try to be happy, but it is hard feeling like a pariah. I know I am not, and I really don’t want praise or attention (above what I normally need), but I just don’t know how to make this go away — this insufferable anguish. I am holding up fine on the outside, but internally I am exploding with feelings I don’t want anyone to know… “The mean reds,” to make a totally gay reference.

And there it is, the source of my problems. “GAY” <– I hate the societal pressures to be homophobic, I hate the teachings of the church, based solely on speculation that certain passages “probably” mean things I doubt they do. I hate that all of this makes my family not really want to know me. Oh, yes, they still love me. They told me that.

But when I fall in love… I won’t have the warm reception into my home with my new boyfriend as my straight brothers had with their girlfriends. I will never have a spouse that my family recognizes and loves the way Janessa and Laurisa are loved. I will never have children, which makes me want to curl up right now and die. The only purpose to life seems to be children. And I would love children. But I cannot deny myself. Nor will I.

I want to be loved for me, and accepted not just as the son who happens to be gay, but as the gay son. That sounds so weird, but I don’t want to live a secondary existence to my siblings… I need to be equal. They are recognized automatically as my parents straight sons. They are not sons who happen to be straight, with their wives and children… I don’t want to be different, or rather to feel like I am different. I am normal for me. I love my parents very much, but until they ask me out of the blue if I have a boyfriend (as they would ask about a girlfriend), I know they still can’t see me as anything but an annoyance, a problem, a pariah.

I know this makes very little sense, but I needed it off my heart for now. I know my parents love me. I too love them very much. I needed to rant. I am very tired now. I need to get away from this life… away from me.

Featured Image Art: photo by Mel Poole (via Unsplash)

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Letter:
I sent the letter I wrote to Stan, my uncle. He already knows I think, but not officially. Hmm… I feel like I am on some kind of coming out roll. Why do I need to do that right now? I keep thinking I left way more information on paper at work, but I am pretty sure I didn’t even write anything down… Why am I rambling?

Music:
I think I will spend the evening making CDs for my trip to Texas… I am so happy to have some time off. Yay!

Exercise:
Maybe I will go for a walk when it cools down tonight. That might make a nice change to just sitting here. I hope I decide to just do it.

Mimi:
I really miss my grandma today.

Stan:
He is really one of the greatest people I know. I cannot believe the e-mail I just got from him.

Brian,

In a word, WOW!!! Not the gay stuff. . . . . more on that later, but WOW to the ability you have to expose your soul. Don’t ever call yourself a coward, when you have the guts to express yourself in that way. You are very courageous, although you may feel like it took too long, or the timing was wrong, or whatever. There is time and place for all of this. Brian, it is YOUR journey. There is not a timetable. . . .( re: Tell Mom on day 30, tell brother on Day 40, uncle and niece on Day 50). . . . . none of that matters. This is YOURS and YOURS alone. Your heart and soul will dictate the time. Don’t let anyone (even your Mom), pressure you on who to tell, who not to tell. These are huge decisions that only you can make.

Now, that doesn’t mean that some in your life (and I hope this includes me) can help with decent advice. IF you want it. As you know, everyone has their beliefs, and they are all entitled to them. What they are NOT entitled to do. . . . is pressure you, judge you or make you feel less of a man. Only YOU, GOD, and those in your life that YOU choose should influence you and your journey through life.

Your parents are only capable of so much. they cannot understand this right away. Just like you needed time to figure it all out, so will they. I hope you don’t expect too much. They love you so much, but may never understand it. And that’s OK!! That is their issue to deal with, and they will do what they can, when they can and however they can. Just remember———-that is theirs. It doesn’t change anything. Same goes for Brent and Brad, and cousins for that matter. I can’t speak for the Wilkinsons. But I can speak for me and Opie and Annie. . . . . I am tearing up alittle, because they are so cool about it. They asked me a few months ago, and I said that it was yours to respond to that, not mine. They both said “Brian is so cool, who cares!” They have a wonderful non-judgmental attitude. With Diane being very homophobic, I am proud that they have formed their own opinions. They (and I) love you and do not define you by your sexuality. You will never be my gay nephew. You will always be my wonderful, creative, loving, caring, passionate, funny, warm, sincere, smart, alittle messy!, courageous, loyal nephew, that. . . oh yeah. . . happens to be gay. I will never define you any other way. Any more than I would define Brent and Brad as my Straight nephews! That makes no sense. ( I hope to goodness this comes out right ).

You mentioned that it might be easier to let Becky (and I presume me and others in the family) go and move on with your life. I hope you don’t. Give her and whoever you want a chance, but just know it could take awhile.

Here is some advice that you may not be so welcome, but I am on a roll. I feel like this. . . the more “in your face” you are with them, the harder it is for them to react. Remember that you are dealing with people that are ignorant enough to think you chose this. You won’t change their mind. And they can’t change your mind. And that’s OK. Just as hard as it is for them to get a grip on you being gay, you have to return the understanding and get a grip on the fact that they may never get it. Remember that may be as hard for you as it is for them.

Brian, like I said earlier, your exposing yourself like this is very brave, and I admire it. Just remember that they don’t control your happiness. Give your family a break, sure, but give yourself a bigger break.

And one last thing. . . . . . . .I will ALWAYS be there for you not matter what.

I love you, B2.

Your uncle.

Featured Image Art: photo of Stan & Brian

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Me:
I finally put myself out there… to no avail, but still… I did it. I need some gay friends. I love my friends so much, but they aren’t the same. There is something quite nice about sitting with a group of gay guys chatting about whatever. We even got to coming out stories. We could relate on a very personal level. I can’t say that about most of my friends. I don’t relate with them much — sometimes that is why we are friends. Jason was right… it would be wonderful to make a little gay family because that is what it feels like. I feel like I am around close family members, even around total strangers. They just need to be gay men around my age. That makes almost no sense, but… I know what I mean.

Jim:
(Jim: I would not presume to tell you how to live your life. This is purely my own thoughts). I really don’t want to offend him because I enjoyed him so much. I would love to be around him and his friends all the time. However, Jim doesn’t seem to know what he wants right now. I wish it was me; I wish it was a relationship. I really am not sure that it is. And maybe it was easy to slip into “slut” mode. His friends weren’t helpful at all though. I really wanted it to be more than it seemed to be. It was nice, but not much like a date. I started to let it confirm my feeling that I am repulsive, but decided to just look at it as an issue Jim is having. I am fully open to hanging out with him, but I really hope that he sees more in time. I am not like all the others. I really wanted to know more about Jim. More about his family, his opinions, his life. He is very attractive, but that isn’t why I drove an hour and a half to meet him. I am interested in him, and I really hope he decides to open up. He is one of the sweetest people ever; someone who can’t say no (he might change what is happening, but he doesn’t really say no). I liked him. But it is all in vain if he knows he will never feel the same way. I know it is silly to expect anything this soon, so I will continue talking to him and hopefully going to see him. If nothing else, I hope I have landed some wonderful new friends. I already miss them. Jim loves music so much and I love that.

Work:
I don’t want to go to work after such a great weekend.

Featured Image Art: photo by torn bluejeans (via PNG Tree)

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OKC Pride Fun:
This weekend was SO fun… Humid, but fun. Dinner Saturday night with Jim(the great guy), Jason, & Josh(“Yesh”) was great fun. Later we went clubbing, as everyone did apparently, and had a lot of fun. Back at Jim’s, there was no fun fun. Sleeping was fun. Sunday morning we went back to the park and then helped put together a float for the parade, which was somewhat fun. Then, after waiting around for quite a while we marched in the parade, handing out beads and candy — so much fun!!! Unfortunately, I had to leave after the parade which was not fun. But when I got to Tulsa, I went to a surprise 30th birthday party — more fun. Now, Lori is over and we are talking about our love lives and other stuff and she is fun.

Me:
I think I learned a lot about myself this weekend. I will write more later when I can think my thoughts through. It was all very nice. I did get the feeling that I couldn’t compete with the sea of naked boys, but I shouldn’t need to.

Featured Image Art: photo of OKC Pride

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Family:
I finally decided to come out to my cousin, Becky. She is really one of two people I haven’t told since coming out to my friends in 1997. She means a lot to me and I really think that it will devastate me should I ever lose her respect and friendship. Over the past few years I have started to tell her on a number of occasions, but have always chickened out. I must now do this, as the secrecy is pulling us further apart. I will keep you posted on what happens. I told her best friend, a coworker of mine, but she already knew. *Click here for he letter I sent to Becky*

Friends:
Nobody understands me. Not that it is anyone’s fault but my own, but I feel like people treat me like the wallflower who likes being that way. Sometimes I do. But what my friends do not get is that I take a long time to warm up to people (weeks, months, years sometimes). They all end up giving up on me. I have stories, thoughts, opinions, concerns. It just feels to me like it all has to be about everyone else all the time.

Possibilities:
This is what I wrote to the guy I am into that made him want to meet me(I had said his recklessness was sexy; he questioned it):

“Sexy? Certainly… There is a boyish charm… a carelessness that reminds me of boys I’ve loved, dreamed of loving. There is a certain nostalgia that lives in you. The memory of bicycles, summer afternoons, snowcones, and friends you seemed to only know then because they were from the neighborhood. There is an impetuous nature that causes memories of things that have not yet happened. I can picture the impulsive way I’d be kissed or my hand grabbed and we’d run through a field for no reason other than the act itself. And how I would bring breakfast in bed because someone won’t listen and hurt himself… again! And I would nurse your wound, which would hurt longer because you’d want to be taken care of. And I’d be woken up at 3:00 a.m. some January night to be dragged outside to dance in the falling snow. Yes, it is sexy.”

Just wanted to share that because I was proud of it. Plus it is all true. I tried to write a poem about the same thing while I was on lunch today at work. I am still blocked. I have decided to rejoin pathetic.org. I will post a link when it is up.

Money:
I need to stop spending money. I am so scared of financial things right now. I would have been more vague about that if I could.

Me:
Big Friday plans: Haircut, clothes shopping (if I don’t have anything suitable for Saturday & Sunday), dinner with Dad & Lori, call Mom, call the guy, watch Six Feet Under Season 1, Disc 2. Big day. I may have caused a bit of a rift between myself and a good friend because of my funk. I hope he doesn’t hate me. And I hope I can learn to not hate his boyfriend (I am not there at this point). Forgive me T.

Featured Image Art: photo of Brian & Becky

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Xanga:
A friend just told me that this is exhibitionism. I guess it is in a way. I’m not sure why I never thought of it that way. That is me in a way too. I am a shy exhibitionist. I’m the guy who pretends I don’t know that everyone can see me naked through the blinds. I find that a little wrong, but exciting.

Friends:
I was to go get new glasses with Jessica today. She called earlier and I was asleep. I think sleep was far more important to me today than new glasses. I can’t seem to get rested. Lori said I may be overextending myself. Perhaps that is true. I am a people pleaser though. I don’t like to say no to anyone. I prefer to just do what others want. That is what makes me happy.

Death:
I’ve avoided the subject, but a friend of mine, John Haynes, died a few weeks ago. He was my direct supervisor at work as well as a personal friend. I really miss him. I try to not be sad, which is impossible. I feel especially bad for Ray, John’s partner. He just seems so lost. I hope he realizes that we are here to support him. It is very hard facing a death everyday. I really feel like I am whining about it, but that doesn’t really make sense. I guess this too shall pass. John would make so much fun of all of us for being sad…

Mood:
I was thinking about being lazy. I am ridiculously lazy sometimes. I live in a pit, have gained weight, need to pay bills. What is my problem?? I feel like something is wrong with me. Maybe I am just in a funk because of John’s death. Maybe I am sulking and should just snap out of it. It all seems so stupid and now I know I am trying to gain some sort of sympathy that I would rather not have. Are we surprised that I have no boyfriend? No, we are not. Everything will even out soon…

Pride:
We planned Pride. I am excited and a little apprehensive about the whole experience. My two straight friends, Lori & Jess are going. I am a little fearful that they will get bored and require a ride home before I am ready. Or they will be cranky… maybe it will be fine.

Self:
I don’t know what my problem is, but I need to cut it out. I am just not pleasant at all.

Featured Image Art: photo found on Pinterest.  Link to original no longer works.

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Hymn III: Birds & Vapor

Before knowledge, peace existed.
Innocent children don’t long for the touch of others.
I’m reflecting on bird calls,
sorting out in my mind the ones that seem familiar
from the ones that are new.
Except for the mockingbirds —
their song has changed as much as I have.
I can barely tell the difference between
childish pursuits and adult desires.
Except for skin.

I find myself a poor litmus test of what I want,
what I remember wanting.
Whispers in my ear from the past — or is it the future?
I’m forgetting things I thought were important.
I don’t remember the smell of skin pressed against
my face as I sleep.
I’m trying to remember how close I can get to the sun
without tumbling to the ground.
Have I reached that limit?
The men are turning to vapor, mists deposited in a wizard’s pensieve
filled with what I choose to remember as unbridled passion.
I’m searching through windows for faces,
for quiet morning sun spilling in through panes,
spotlighting the drifts of dust as they dance
like a great flock of tiny birds.

It feels like he’s still standing there, if he was ever standing there,
eating cherries on the front porch,
spitting the pits out into the garden.
I am thinking about fruity cereal.
I am thinking about the taste of cherries lingering in his mouth and the taste of mulberries lingering on mine.
I am thinking about birds and music and sex and dust.
I am thinking about the faces, the many overlooked faces.
I am thinking about vaporizing.

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
calling for you and for me;
see, on the portals he’s waiting and watching,
watching for you and for me.


Notes

Written 2 November 2001 in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Hymn III: Birds & Vapor” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

Published in Social Distances (Scissortail Press, 2020)

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Hymn II: Reading Tolstoy Naked

My reality merges with memories, with desires,
is there a reality? Have these lives been mine?
Events appear in my mind, translucent and ethereal.
A lanky man in the doorway, light spilling
around his silhouette, casting him as a sort of deity,
a cigarette hanging from his lips
like he’s come from a previous century.
A burly man, his chest a thicket
of soft hair for fingers to explore,
reading Tolstoy in a dimly-lit living room, still naked.
The lamplight shines on his skin, casting strange shadows.
Is he really there?

I’m searching through faces,
longing for the smell of cigarette
smoke rubbed on my back as I’m
pulled toward a mouth still tasting of tobacco.
Or maybe I’ll find myself coyly asking about Russian literature,
massaging muscular shoulders, satisfyingly corporeal. I’m distracting him and pretending not to be distracted by him.
I’ll kiss him until everything is wet and beautiful.
Imaginary friends rarely press their lips back,
and never with such force.

I’m searching through faces,
watching men sleep for hours.
Eyelids dance as they dream and I wonder
about the wide-eyed boy, belly full of mulberries,
a face on fire from the attention of adults, strangers.
He didn’t know about men and the uncontrollable smiles
of the attention of adults, strangers. I miss him.
The nights are filled with breathing and rustling, peaceful.
The mornings are filled with coffee and cigarettes
or the pungent sweetness of a joint
which I pretend to enjoy because he does.
Weekends are a tangle of arms and legs, old movies,
sweaty and lazy afternoons.

It is well
It is well with my soul

I stay, huddled on beds or floors.
I don’t tell stories about playing in the woods,
or about finding an armadillo skeleton,
or about my preschool teacher.
I’m searching through faces
for the man who wants to know.

Notes

Written 29 October 2001 in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Hymn II: Reading Tolstoy Naked” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)