There is little difference between the two. It is only a matter of dimension. The size of a walnut against the size of the world. Ultimately, the prize is one of possession.
-Martin Booth
THE INDUSTRY OF SOULS, a novel
The Beginnings – Part 80: I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME NAMES
Friday, September 2, 1983
George was fairly unstable last night over my Susan Low situation. I can understand how he feels but he seems to think I’m on the search for a female companion and relationship. This may very well be true.
I tried to explain, “IF it happens…fine…but I’m not ‘on a search’ for it.”
I like George but it bugged me when he said, “I’m leery about moving-in because of your womanizing.”
I guess he’ll have to live with it because I won’t stop seeing Susan Low if she (and as long as she) wants to see me.
I implored George, “She will probably make flimsy excuses about wanting to see me anyway. We’re not an item. Like I said before…she’s a special lady but I don’t know what’s going to happen with us.”
I refrained from saying how I could easily fall HOH (Head Over Heels) over her.
This morning George blurted out, “You’re WORTHLESS!”
It wasn’t because of Susan Low but because I failed to vacuum after he asked me to. He was also pissed-off because I wouldn’t feed his mom’s dog or pick up the dog. I didn’t appreciate his statement.
I shouted, “I don’t LOVE it when you call me names.”
I shouted it that way because I had just heard that song I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME NAMES by Joan Armatrading.
After he called me ‘WORTHLESS’ I know he could tell that I was a little disturbed.
After he said it he calmed down and asked, “Do you want a drink?”
I guess I was being a bit nasty, too.
While George was blow drying his hair I yelled, “Hurry up! Can’t you just let it dry by itself?”
It was all rather uncanny when that song came on after I told him to ‘Hurry up’ (I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME NAMES).
When my folks read parts of my journal entries last week I recalled telling Tammy all about the horrible incident.
I said, “Tammy, the journal really IS fictional…and a future ‘good’ book.”
Tammy replied, “Your parents will probably always carry that doubt and question about the homosexuality trip.”
“It doesn’t matter. I know who I am…what I am…and I am still learning about myself through others.”
I realized that my newest companion (Susan Low) has made me think through a few things more closely. She’s ‘HOT’ in a very different kind of way when I compare her to Tammy. I think Tammy acts a bit too overtly sexual in her walk, talk and look. Susan on the other hand looks gorgeous and at the same time has a wholesome, natural quality about her.
Tammy made a point by saying, “I really want you to call me so we can go out more.”
And now I am thinking to myself, “Sure…but now there’s Susan and she’s 'A-1 steak sauce' right now.”
George wonders where he stands in all of this. I consider him to always be there. I hope he will be. He will inevitably make the final decision to cut our ‘close’ relationship off. It will not be me. It’s just like Frank; however, that was somewhat of a relief after I got to know the semi-feminine prankster, tattler, gossip guy that he can be.
We stopped at the ALPHABETA grocery store and I said to George, “I saw you eyeing that bag boy.”
He laughed and replied, “You’re just like Ken is to Danny.”
I thought, “It’s true though…he did ‘eye’ the young fellow. And I have a heavy ‘eye’ for Susan Low…so time will tell.”
And so, time foretold. I went to LILY’s via BART from the Fremont BART Station and ‘the itch-bay’, Susan, wasn’t there. So…la-dee-dah. I will have to wait and see on that one. What kind of excuse will she give me? If any? Does she even owe me an excuse? I’d say so.
I was back in Sunnyvale by 9:30PM. George was working at WHEREHOUSE RECORDS until 10:30PM.
George explained, “I have to go out with his grandmother and Uncle Calvin tonight.”
“You do?” I asked.
“Yes, we’re going to see RETURN OF THE JEDI.
I have to admit that George going out with his grandmother and uncle to see RETURN OF THE JEDI on a Friday night seemed pretty ‘fishy’. I had to guess and believe that it was the truth. He arrived home at around 2AM; whereby, we slept a good one.
He liked watching his boyfriends sleep; spying on motionlessness is a rather specialized erotic discipline. Sleep’s secret is that the snoozer is by no means paralyzed.
-ANDY WARHOL by Wayne Koestenbaum
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