Comfort Zone

Memories from the past overtook me as i walked the Gay Ghettos streets.....

    

 I was very comfortable in the Gay Ghetto and never had a home so peaceful yet familiar. It was different than any place I had lived before. I felt accepted and wanted. I know that sounds strange but that was every desired human condition. Every man, women and child wanted to be accepted by someone or thing. That what moved a man toward success and what could drop a man into failure. It’s a basic human handicap afflicting most of people, well I can only speak for myself.

     I had stated in the past I don’t want to be accepted by anyone but what I really meant was by the Mainstream: the mentally dead and easily manipulated. The nine to five slave: The T.V. servant: The walking dead with the million dreams and vagabond desire. Human crash test dummies hooked on the bait and switch of everyday life. I never wanted them to accept me. I never wanted into their little, glass clubs. Yet that made me fringe or alternative. So that in itself, was a group roaming the planet way before I occupied a womb. 

     In reality I want to be accepted by the fringe, alternative community. If not I would be relegated to the crash test dummies. So even my non-acceptance pointed me to another group to be accepted by. Which got back to my original point. I didn’t care the gay community accepted me. I liked to be accepted. Acceptance was Rural Swahili to me. I never understood it and feared if I did say it wrong it would expose my ignorance.

     Back in the River town or in the Great state,  ‘Home of the Shore’, that talk would relegate me to the other side. I would be batting for the other team without partaking of any of the festivities. But that was the way of the Jersey clan: guilty by association.     

     Homophobia and homo jokes were staple fixtures in communications. My tune soon changed when I discover my own uncle was gay. He was my favorite relative and the greatest man I had ever know. He was a 6’3 Vietnam veteran, navy diver that traveled the world. A peaceful man with: the face of an actor and the disposition of a saint. We would see him once a year and waited for his visit on pins and needles. He would buy us the coolest presents and give us big strong hugs. 

     I was named after him, well my middle name. He died from the big C before I was flogged by puberty. The last time I saw him alive was in an two bedroom apartment in North Jersey with his boyfriend. We where debating the name of the huge radio that the Break dancers hoisted above their shoulders. Were they called a Ghetto blaster or N****r Boxes? In the North toward New York they were called Ghetto Blasters. In the River town, my nice, catholic school cronies called them N*****s boxes.

     I remember standing at his funeral: a dropping flower of a man boy. Tears streamed down my eyes as the Priest did the whole Catholic funeral ritual. It was a dark day during a darker life, as the lord put out his mortal light.

     My uncle was outted by my father during a trip home from his mother’s home in the Diamond state. My brother and I were abusing the words homo and f****t when my father thought it was the best time to let us in on my mother’s family’s deep dark secret,

“You know you’re Uncles was a f****t!”

     The car filled with silence. The only noise was from the New Radio station coming from the factory speakers. After the shock it still didn’t matter.  My hero was a gay navy veteran. Great people came in all forms and shapes. The love for my uncle was eternal and he was in heaven guiding my steps.

     So, the community was never my enemy and I grew to respect the homosexual world the older I became. It wasn’t my cup of tea but nothing for me to run and hide from. It was a foreign feeling to be accepted, walk the street sought and wanted even if it was for cardinal purposes.

     It was early evening as I put the finishing touches on my attire. My plans were to enjoy some Baja tacos at Maria’s and then get a beverage at Tommy’s. I searched Susie’s cabinets for some Gin to mix with Grapefruit juice I bought early from Fresh and Easy on Seventh Street. Most of the bottles in her liquor cabinet were already ¾ empty, with just a swallow left.

Someone beat me to the punch I mean Gin.

     Susie claimed to not to drink. She was the spawn of two alcoholic: one who died and killed in a car crash. She had been inside AA meeting at a young age, so I didn’t think she hit the bottle but another did.

      I made a drink and polished it off in my room while checking emails and listen to Eighties tunes on my Macbook Pro. The light in the room was dimmed and there was nothing on my mind but Tacos:

Baja fish tacos.

     Afterward I walk to the small Mexican spot and sat in a booth in the middle of the eatery. Maria’s was a fine place: warm and friendly with soccer games playing with play by play in Espanol. Sometime, a Lakers games would be running with Spanish voiceovers. The waitresses were friendly, thick Latinas with a pretty, dulce smiles and soft friendly voices.

     I reclined dining on the fine, fried fish. It was outside my diet but thank the lord it was a splurge day. A sudden text came in to my phone. I glanced at the LCD screen and saw the number was from the Samoan pool player. I read the message: It said she was at the Brit and I should stop by. I agreed and told her after my dinner I would meet her. She text me a happy face and I text back an LOL. I informed her I would be there in thirty minutes. I put the finishing destruction on my meal and paid the bill. I did a quick step to the sidewalk and headed to the Brit.

     I Entered the Brit already inside pre lit from a visit to Tommy’s, where I grabbed a beer and a shot and took them to the head on a side street, out of view of Long Beaches finest.  I walked inside the Briton and saw the Samoan and her sister-law standing against pool table. 

Author's Note

Comments please. Let me know if the book is flowing. I'm almost at the halfway point. Thank you....

Reviews

[Dayran]

A life that's dedicated to self love needs to be self supportive and independent. It is the experience of that part of us that is defined by the opportunity of freewill. Where we go with it is entirely our self discovery ... of the many avenues in life. A self love that discovers itself the world or the American experiment with the dream is indeed a love worth following. Nice write.

[Judas Hammer]

Freewill says it all my friend. nicely put

[Astro]

You're doing fine my friend keep it up. Great work so far and refreshing to have what is considered to be the underbelly of society or 'fringe' represented with such wisdom and wit.

[Judas Hammer]

Thank you for the read and your time and following the story, it's a big help

[Astro]

You're most welcome, I quite enjoy the read.

[RienKelsoCinema]

You know, we all have moments where we want to get out of who we are and explore a different world out there. I feel we all in some way find ways to not be identified as the majority and would rather be identified with the minority. Maybe it's because we want to seem different or maybe more sophisticated. People need to learn that we are all different in some way and it shouldn't be the choice to anyone but the one who is living their life. To them it's about being different, to us, it's about who we are that we identify with not just for the sake of being different. Either way, nice piece. I liked it.

[Judas Hammer]

Amen. I agree 100 percent. Thank you for the read and next level comment. Again thank you.

[M. Stein]

wooow, this is amazing! very nicely done.

[Judas Hammer]

thank you so much

[Morgan Storms]

I think it flows. I really like this line, "I put the finishing destruction on my meal and paid the bill."

[Judas Hammer]

thanks for the read and your time.

[Revolutionary]

it is great there are a few errors in grammer but you can fix that when the book is finished.nicely done

[Judas Hammer]

Thank you.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for the outstanding chapter. I learn a long time ago. It was none of my business the preference of your sex. I caught my step brother with his boyfriend and I understood him and love him still. I like the story of your Uncle. What killed him? Agent orange? Complete chapter was amazing. Thank you for your wise tales. Always something to learn from your words.
Coyote

[Judas Hammer]

Thank my friend. He died of cancer when i was a teenager. He was a diver looking for chinese underwater mines.

[Leslie Philibert]

I like this a lot, a fair, serious look at being gay, but with the kind of jokes gays often like themselves.
And as ever. fast with loads of terrfific one liners. You write very well !

[Judas Hammer]

thank you for the read and comments my friend