Last night, I wanted to do some late night shopping as I am spiffing up the front room for our New Year's party. And it was one of those moments in time. I had just read a comment on Andrea's blog written by her her mate and was struck by Liz's comment revealing just how much the assholes of the world hurt her. I've only met Liz in person once, and she struck me as a strong person, someone who I could respect. Plus, she and Andrea seem to have a great relationship given what Andrea writes about her and their life in general.
While it irritates me that people lash out at any minority, knowing that some of those blows are landing- particularly on someone who has my respect- well, then I'm pissed. Full on rightious indignation time. I was taken right back to my late teen years and all the hatred that defined Cincinnati and the gay community. Images of my old circle of friends and the louisville slugger near the door at the Metro and the night breeder John the bartender had to use it on some fratboyz who came downtown for a little gaybashing fun. (Yes, I'm aware I just connected my late teens and hanging out in a bar. I started going there in high school. Mea frickin' culpa.)
And I've got this running in the back of my brain on rodent wheel and then in the car the song Nightswimming by REM comes on the radio. This is a weird one because it reminds me of Eppie, who died several years before the song was released. (He was in hospice in Cincinnati in the late 80's and his father refused to put any of his friends' names on the list to see him because it was our fault his son was gay and therefore dying of 'that gay disease.' It gets worse, let's not go there.)
Anyway, Eppie had gone away to college because dad had put up the money just to get him out of the local scene. So no one had heard from him in quite some time. And I was down on Fountain Square (like Union Square) alone, as this was when Lila was serious with Wilson and I had recently removed myself from an unfortunate relationship. And there was Eppie, home on spring break. He was always easy to pick out because he was so damn preppie- there was a time when he fell completely in love with one of the punk pack that hung out down there. It was so cute, because punks being punks they didn't care but he tried his best to fit in with them. So he raggedly cut off his chino's- just above the knee. AND he still wore an oxford...
I saw him when he was making his way over to me, as I stuck out from the normal midnight crowd too. (One of the guys at Rocky dubbed me Lady Benneton for my odd sort of English skirt and boot style.) We just started walking and talking and catching up. Life had been going pretty good for him. He was getting along better with his father since he'd been away at school and he was seeing a guy at college which seemed to be pretty serious. I approved because he was practically glowing when he talked about the 'relationhip'; a word he must have learned at college because I'd never heard him use it before. I was getting myself back together after a bad year, and had finally managed to dump the idiot I was seeing. I remember talking animatedly about how my 'harem' (which had been a goal at the time) wasn't as much fun as I expected and that I would throw everyone I was seeing over for this friend of Lila's fiance. Eppie approved of this plan because he liked Lila's fiance. It was as if we were getting each other's permission to go after what we wanted, and it seemed pretty funny at the time. We spent hours just ambling around downtown that night, talking about everything and how life had changed so much in such little time. It had seemed wonderfully optimistic and bright for the first time in forever.
And that's the last time I saw Eppie.
Anyway, for some reason that stupid REM song captures that night to a tee. Quiet and somber but somehow happy. Hearing it, I can hear his voice particularly that lightly sarcastic tone he would use when being catty and his two note laugh. I can smell the nasty sour tang that emanated from certain blocks. I can feel the balmy spring nght clinging to my arms and the weight of my dress against my shoulders. We seemed more suited for a Sunday outing than a midnight prowl and I remember giggling about how funny it was strolling together like some married couple in the park, instead of two pretenders to the mainstream creeping around the dirty downtown steets in the middle of the nght. It always comes back with a rush of warmth and detail and and underscore of regret. Then of course there's the brutal reality that this was his swansong- I just didn't know it.
So the next thing I know, I'm wiping my face with one hand while driving and thinking how stupid I'm going to look in public with salt tracks on my cheeks. Then this huge rush of anger hits against Eppie's father and then the good people of Cincinnati in general, not to mention the faceless and hateful bastards which made Liz want to cry. [I tend to give those people the face of this priest I almost assaulted. It's a great story for another time. My MOM, all hundred pounds of her, kept me from a rap sheet by pulling me back mid-lunge. I do thank her for it, but every so often I think it might have been satisfying enough to be worth arrest. This is one of those times.]
Anyway. I'm not a terribly moody person. And weeping like an old woman watchnig a hallmark commercial doesn't sit terribly well with me. But there you have it. Every time I hear that song. I'm not even a fan of REM.
That song, though. Man.
I have many, many memories tied to songs. But this one is just amazingly strong, and so odd because of the timing. Does anybody else have one like this, where the song couldn't possibly have been playing at the time?
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