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Vacation:
I don’t look very excited to be on vacation, I know… but I am! Lori & I left yesterday at about 10:30ish. When we got to Stillwater, my dad was not feeling well and Janessa (Jes) had not shown up with Conner yet. When they did finally show up, Jes had brought her annoying best friend with her. It wasn’t a very exciting visit… Oh well.

We then went to Edmond to see Brent, Laurisa, and KC (my neice). I had quite a nice visit with my brother. It is always nice when he is in a talkative mood. Jim was supposed to call while I was there… he didn’t. After a long visit, Brent gave me some photos (he is a photographer), we went to eat, and were on our way to Sayre.

Now see… I love Sayre. I do forget that others don’t. It is a very small town which is falling apart. It is dusty, smells like a farm, and everyone knows everyone else’s business. Just our presence in town was undoubtably talked about. I wanted the full experience, so we stayed at the Western Motel, a great old motel with a vintage sign (I will post a pic when we get our film developed). I just feel at home there. They pronounce my name correctly without asking (I have tons of family out there). Plus, when we walked into the motel room, the Bible was not only on the table for us, it was opened so we could start right in! I love that crazy stuff.

We woke up this morning pretty early. I was hyper after sleeping, which is way unusual. We gave ourselves plenty of time before deciding to go eat. Again, small town. I am not sure that Lori quite grasped that. The options were 2 diners and 1 donut shop (which closed at 10:00). Sonic (literally the 3rd restraunt in town) was probably open, but we weren’t really feeling it. We didn’t eat. We drove out to Sweetwater.

The cemetary was nice. It wasn’t too hot, partly cloudy. One complaint: just a little too windy for what I was doing (cutting silk flowers). I prepared the flowers and put them at my grandparents grave. I reserved 1 each for Janice, my aunt who died when she was 2 weeks old, and my great grandma McGuire. I removed the old flowers, dusted off the headstone, and we left — old flowers in tow.

We drove from there with even less desire to stop and eat. We settled on the veggies we had brought with us, but foolishly not touched yesterday. We then drove back to Oklahoma City and down to Norman.

In Norman, we stopped to see Jim at work. I didn’t have any idea where his work was and we circled the block once before stopping for directions… I was trying to be a boy and not ask… We stopped in and saw him (and Yesh too). It was very nice to see him as friends instead of as a love interest. I can deal with Jim as friend, I think. He is so goofy, with his bingo obsession! We chatted just briefly with him before he had to get back to work. But not before he told me about the “braclets” we got at Pride… if you know, you know.

We then started the longest part of the drive down to Round Rock. We stopped and ate in Ardmore, stopped for gas in several different places, but we generally just drove. Now, here we are… in Round Rock. David isn’t here… But I can still visit with/see Travis. We have some brief plans tomorrow, so hopefully we can fill it in with fun stuff. Lori, David, and I are planning on going out. I really wish Travis and Sandra would come with, but at least we can talk behind their backs this way… hehe.

Having a lot more fun than working!

Children:
I really think that Jes should listen only to herself in choosing the name of her children. She was talked out of Felix Doyle once before, but has her heart set on it again. She needs to ignore everyone else and just do it! Felix Fuchs is fun anyway!

Conner and KC are the best kids ever!

Questions: (1:50 a.m.)
I just came back inside from lying on the driveway watching the stars float ever upward — and never moving. I watched and smoked and realized that I am happy.

Lori asked me about my friendship with Travis before we got to his house. I was left with a question, which I maybe should have asked then (she wants me to talk about me more, which I am not accustomed to doing). Why are Travis & I friends? Furthermore, why am I friends with anyone else? I suppose I have a good answer in some cases. I helped Justin through his mental illness struggles. Robby and I are young gay men who have a lot in common. Lori and I work together and have mutual tastes as far as work goes. From there, we are able to share similar musings on family with one another. But Travis? JD? Jess? Shauna? James? Brent? (yes, he is my brother, but also my friend) Why? I don’t know.

Maybe we need no reason. Maybe it is about nothing more than acceptance of who we are by another human being. But I am not friends with so many people who would or are accepting of who I am fully. It occurs to me that not only do I have no reason, but I am not sure there is one. I feel at home around Travis. I just like him. And he has flaws… flaws that would bother me if he was someone else. I just was thinking. I might go back out there later if I don’t stop thinking about it.

G:
After visiting her in the cemetary, I purchased a turqiose ring, which I am wearing right now. It really makes me think of her and miss her like crazy. She used to have small bits of turqoise that she kept on one of her bookends. The bookends were shaped like canoes with people in them. From there, I think about her house and how I miss it.

Featured Image Art: photo of Western Motel, Sayre, OK

originally posted on Xanga

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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)

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Hymn I: Mulberries

I didn’t know then what I didn’t know,
what I wanted to know.
Desire was reserved for cartoons on Saturday morning
and drinking our bowls of fruity cereal flavored milk.
My bowl would be abandoned next to those of
brothers, and we would go outside for the day,
exploring the spaces already familiar.
We would eat mulberries until we felt sick,
or we would run down to the
wooded area where ours met the adjacent street.
My days were spent being alone in groups,
keeping to myself and drifting off in to the clouds,
thinking about how beautiful everything is.

A smell wakes me from the foggy daydreams
of childhood. The ends are pulling at me,
I’m remembering experiences I haven’t had.
Leather and old cologne… and sweat.
Absence and anticipation compete for the space,
waiting is agony when the body has been
unlocked, when the ignorance melts away.
I’m searching through faces,
looking for cowboy boots (I think)
or the smell of fruity cereal and milk.
I’m waiting to feel hands on my skin,
imagining them rough and gritty, remembering
a feeling I’m still anticipating. I know these things now,
I feel them in my heart and in my groin.

Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me
I was once lost
but now I’m found
Was blind
but now I see

I want to conceal the existence of my youth,
but I want to share stories about morning cartoons
on exhausted weekend mornings when he and I
would rather stay in bed than face the lives that existed
before one another, without one another.
These days before him are long, full of longing.
My skin is eager for the feeling of another’s skin. I’m searching through faces,
forcing myself into crowds,
looking for the boots, cologne, memories, dawn.
I am looking for a man with bad habits,
who I can grow to resent, a person who doesn’t want me.
I can still taste the mulberries
and I can already feel his body.

Notes

Written 28 December 2000 in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Hymn I: Mulberries” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

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G

in memory of G, a mystery

Strange woman, you left us
wondering who you were and
why you couldn’t go on.
I waited and waited and still
thought I had more time — these
things don’t happen to me —
the strong always survive —
this should be the fairytale.
It’s not. Your secrets were
your secrets — tiny new pearls
in the oyster of your life.
That mussel was enough for
me. You secrets are now eternal.

Brent and I still made noise
(the irritating chatter you always
hated). We didn’t even try not to,
hoping you’d sit up and tell us
to cut it out. We miss you.

I never found a new gold bug
for you and I am sorry. I’m not
sure I really tried. Probably not.

I do not think I was kind to you,
lovely woman. Reverent, yes.
Respectful, yes. Committed, yes.
But kind…? Dear woman, I loved
you deeply. I hate the days
I put off visiting. I hate that I wasn’t
there at the end for you, though
I know you felt me there —
I pray you were somehow comforted
by that.

When I saw you, you were weak — very weak.
You were artificially alive with tubes and knobs
and gauges and buttons — it wasn’t you in
that shell. I could see you fight; try to get back —
get back to what…? I know you didn’t want this.
Pain…medication…doctors…nurses…anger…tears.

I cried for you — hard. Some of the tears were guilt
(I never did enough). Most was pain — separation.
I never wanted you to go and I almost couldn’t take it.

12.21.2000

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Miracle

for Jennie Lloyd’s baby

Enveloped in darkness —
surrounded by perfect blackness
(the comfort of mother
on all sides)
Grow gracefully, child of
Love — inside your peaceful shelter.

Your mother is special — young and
full of energy and wonderful
thoughts and hopes and you.
Kiss her often, precious child.

Feel the smile you bring
to her face when
your mother sees herself
in you and sees
things she wishes she could be.

Be careful of the world.
Hold tightly the hands
that guide and protect you.
Know when to run home and
when to soar free.

Sometimes parents need
a shoulder to cry on —
welcome that moment
and comfort those who need you.

Be who you know you are.
Don’t let the world hold you back.
You can be whoever you want.
This world is big and is better
now because of you, child of Jennie.

Notes

Written 20 February 2000 in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Miracle” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)