Image stolen from Rock and Cara's Facebook Page, although at THEIR chummy Puerto Vallarta guest house, the twelve rooms, three kitchens, giant pool, and "many horizontal recreational areas" have NO CHAIN LINK FENCE at all!!!
1. Yesterday, after discovering that Tony Narducci's book, IN THE FRIGHTENED HEART OF ME had indeed arrived, I ripped it out of its shipping togs, thumbed it quickly to see if there were photos inside, and FIRST reading my OWN NAME that jumped out at me from a page, I was STRUCK BY MAXWELL'S SILVER HAMMER and decided to take it to the beach at Mismaloya to read -- right beneath the movie set ruins of Tennessee Williams' THE NIGHT OF THE IGUANA.
En route, I drove through HUGE CLOUDS of Mexican herb smoke -- the Mexican people liking to suffuse much of life in this pleasant way.
2. After ordering two each of fish and chicken empanadas (sp?), and a bucket of three poquito Pacificos plunged into ice water, I began to read . . .
3. At about page 40 or so, I began to read about myself, my SCOTTY-SCOTTINESS soon getting more swollen than a putrid beached WHALE!!!
4. And just like the NAZIs arriving in the PLAY (not movie) -- and I MUST ADD: in the MOST pleasant way, a straight couple plopped at the table next to mine -- he REDOLENT of pheromones, she graciously adoring. I began speaking with that HOT ALPHA MALE (con permisso, his lady).
Turns out they are Canadians from the Athabasca Oil Sands Region, who knew all about my father and brother's LIFE-LONG employer Sun Oil Company's SUNOCO gasoline and Sun's aborted 1970s attempt to extract oil LONG before anyone else.
Granted, that is disgusting, filthy oil -- and not then commercially viable -- but Pioneering is Pioneering, so I always SALUTED that effort THEN for that reason ONLY, not messing with that FILTHIEST of OILS now.
But we were all in a frisky mood -- he celebrating his 50th birthday and CROWING about his good and youthful bod (it just handsome as HELL, as WELL!!!). I stifled my truthful observation that he was actually looking exactly his age -- all else being true. You see, a young-looking, practicing straight-guy by this age looks about 10 years older than a typical gay guy of same age -- relating sexually/in-family, etc. with the opposite sex being such a CHALLENGE when the MOON-TIDES ebb and flow.
I asked about his Tommy-Bahamas-stored equipment -- if it was as good as I was bettin' -- and the three of us got into a LONG conversation of the glories of BOTH Pointer and Beaver, they TOO eschewing all unnecessary shaving of Man and Woman's GLORY (YES, women get to shave a lot more than men -- but not TOO close to a Siamese, Short-Haired Domestic, or even Tortoise-
Shell kitty!!!
Bottom Line was that he claimed all his straight friends would likely enjoy my attentions after about two beers -- but three for him. Cara laughed as she agreed. Seems they own a 12-unit hotel/guest house as well as several other rental properties here. While their guests are mostly straight, few of them care to wear clothes on the compound -- and they ALL love to party 'round the pool with most any and everything going down, in, or wherever.
I found this intriguing -- and coupled with the fact that at 50 he was in about the same "age-look" as me at nearly 62 -- although he DOES have more delightful muscles and such. He ALSO holds the speed record on Banderas Bay for motorboat, races cars and motorcycles, and is currently trying to UN-sink (salvage), a 42-man sailboat he accidentally capsized recently. His money was made growing Canadian herb until after four years the town's Police Chief tipped him that Canadian Mounties (or similar), were about to DO HIM IN.
They did not and he eventually retired his oil-field muscle-work job, sold all, and moved here about 15 years ago with Miss Cara-the-TRUE-Delight. So I've been invited to stop over to party, should I care to, and we agreed that regardless anything else, I'd sure be a SWELL NOVELTY ACT.
5. When they left, I returned to the book, but being all DISCOMBOBULATED decided to return to my house to complete it. And despite WAVES of fatigue (but NOT sleepiness), I completed it at about 1:00 this morning.
Reading Tony's book was like a transparent re-living -- the book written seemingly effortlessly and no signs of un-truth. I only found one error regarding me: I never tried to keep him from Tennessee, although I understand why he suspected it at Ingrid's, once. And it somehow was the END of these last 3.5 years of struggle, screaming, blogging, and evading those PRIMED to kill me, when I spied my actual HANDWRITING on a page. That did it!!!
Somehow, Tony had done what NO TENNESSEE WILLIAMS SCHOLAR, NO TENNESSEE WILLIAMS/NEW ORLEANS LITERARY FESTIVAL, NO PROVINCETOWN TENNESSEE WILLIAMS FESTIVAL, NO BOOK SELLER (except Amazon), NO NEWS REPORTER dared to do: ACKNOWLEDGE MY DAMNED EXISTENCE!!! !!! !!!
Like it or not, I HAVE ARRIVED!!!
6. OK, much to praise about Tony's book, but I was confused as Sebastian seemed at times to be either Schuyler Wyatt or Gary Tucker -- or both combined since Tony saw little of them and might have melded them in memory (or the beach-smoke had clouded my eyes). I would have PREFERRED that all except the walk-bys had last names -- although most were EASY to pair up, San Giorgio was no doubt Luis Sanjurjo (whom I always had thought was Italian until I first searched for him on Internet and discovered the correct spelling). He was Tom's mis-matched new agent at ICM, Tom having about a year before FIRED Audrey Wood, STUPIDLY, but no one could talk him past his paranoia on that -- and they tried FREQUENTLY.
"John" REEKED of being John Uecker, and "Helen" of course was PERFECTLY DRAWN!!! Helen (McDonald) Chuba was my ally because she "found" me via mutual friend and my former employee at Tux (Manhattan Deco Deli), next to Fast Buck Freddie's (now flagship store of Jimmy Buffet's "Margaritaville" Bar & Restaurants -- and in the 1970s, EVERYONE in Key West HATED Jimmy Buffet, because caught with cocaine, he had RATTED on every dealer he knew to get a reduced sentence).
>>> To complete a thought: Gary Tucker had worked as a waiter for me when I managed Tux, then after the even THEN legendary Gail Brockway had to eliminate dinner and serve only breakfast and lunch so laid us an several others off -- she running it alone with Denis Finley (my roommate who had followed me to Tux from Cape May, NJ and began as a pastry chef), handling the bar, so Gary Tucker and I cooked up a plan to buy and renovate a beer and wine bar (all I could afford to buy, Gary only contributing talent -- imagine how THAT would have gone!!!).
This is what Helen Chuba stepped into my life and rescued me from -- most mysteriously.
But my patience with Helen ended the moment Tennessee asked me to work for him -- although I continued to humor her for her part. Unfortunately, Tony must have MISSED Helen's worship of DIET PILLS and her frequent running about half-jazzed-up, shaking the plastic pill bottle like a damn RATTLE!!! That would have added a perfect shot of humor, no???
And then there was the matter of the night Tennessee got bluesy and sobsy -- and had Helen and I tell our "most horrible stories" as he snugged in his bed under the giant portrait of Gertrude Stein, holding Helen's hand -- Helen telling of how years before her high-school aged gay son had committed suicide and she found him half-stuck in their gas oven -- all this in Spain, where her husband was stationed as a HIGH DIPLOMAT of the United States.
This eventually led to Helen's retreat from daily life and her husband. The marriage ended, she floated and drifted -- until she met Tennessee Williams and Robert Carroll, whilest barreling across France one dark, cloudy night many years ago on the Orient Express. Helen babysat Robert at the bar while Tom wrote in their cabin. But she ALSO fed Robert uppers by the handful and the TRAIN NEARLY DERAILED, what with all that pursued.
The connection CEMENTED, Helen drifted through Homestead, FL long enough to meet her next husband, Chuba, an Arab man of unknown background whom Helen found to be all but despondent until she told him she wanted to MARRY HIM -- just to CHEER HIM UP!!!
Now I have BEEN to Homestead, FL and not only MET the handsome, hang-dog, nearly mute Chuba (the only name he used), but been inside their antique trailer, aqua and white -- TWO-TONE, like a 1956 Chevrolet!!!
And for the record this was in order to accompany Helen to THE NEW WORLD FESTIVAL OF THE ARTS' shuttled-in Jim Falls Chicago production of Streetcar (my third time of seeing it, then) -- used to fill the spot that Tennessee had NOT been able to fill with his promised new play. Things got rather ugly, but it really was Tom's fault that he committed to something he could not get ready in time. They tried to bring in the Goodman's production of A HOUSE NOT MEANT TO STAND, but it was not practical.
At intermission, I stood quite near Edward Albee, who did not notice me. I decided NOT to get his attention after I overheard some of his rather salacious gossip about Tennessee Williams he was telling his small circle of younger men and women. He, Tennessee Williams, and I (Tom in the front seat), had motored to the KENNEDY CENTER HONORS in a shared cab, November 1981 -- Edward treating ME like prey.
But NEITHER of them knew then (and Tennessee knew right after Albee alighted and walked off alone), that my once boyfriend Jeff Work (Denison 1973 and often mentioned in this blog for his DISAPPEARANCE as well as our tip to NYC when we stayed in Jill Krementz/Kurt Vonnegut's apartment and spied Rex Reid dancing at the Continental Baths -- flanked by TWO literal "Jungle Bunnies" clad only in white diapers. I never MET and got to chat with Rex until many years later at the 2008 (+/-) New Orleans TW Fest.
You see, on that WHOLE trip to the Honors, I had honored the Leonardo da Vinci painting MONA LISA -- by stealing and pasting-on her smile.
7. What I'm getting to here is that Tony met FEW of Tennessee Williams ACTUAL friends (Gregory Mosher, Robert Falls come to mind). Just like it was reported on HuffPost a few days ago that President Obama has been reduced to touring with Justin Bieber in his NEVERENDING FUNDRAISING DRIVE -- the "A-List" celebs rather busy right now -- Tennessee was losing steam fast and has little energy to associate with his peers, and Gary and Skye were thick in the fast-track Sewanee/Episcopal Church/Republican Party plan to reduce Tom's energy through diet and distractions so that he could be OFFED and everyone see it as NO SURPRISE!!!
I am convinced that Tony had NO PART in this -- nor does he seem aware of it. he WAS used a bit by them, they doing everything to get ME scared of Tony's "conniving ways" -- and no doubt working on Tennessee as well. ANYTHING to rid the place of ME.
That said, although I did NOT know of Tony's meeting Tom in February -- I HAD heard of a "wild pool party" then from Gary, who mentioned a cute guy who "spouted poetry" to Tennessee, nekkidly. LOL!!! I KNEW Tom had had a good break from MY often too-quiet self, but thought little of it, until Tom told me all before having me place that first call to Tony in Chicago.
And the truth is that it was about that time in February that I began to feel Tom had pulled away from attempting to get me PAST my shyness with him -- as had EVERY ONE of his friends -- and I KNEW it would one day lead to my separation, so it was actually with RELIEF (coupled with fear of change), that when I met Tony, I instantly perceived him to be a cut above all the others and at least as good as me (after training, LOL!!!).
And I thought Tony was 25 – 28 years of age (he was “cute as a button”). I KNEW he looked like a Disco Bunny (upwardly-mobile, usually white, Circuit Party dervish-dancer and club-drugger – as you can SEE, I was JEALOUS!!!). But I had NO IDEA Tony was so into Circuit Parties and being so HOT in that scene – until I read this book.
This brings me to my final point for now: Tony at 33 and me at 30, then, we BOTH were semi-consumed as artist wannabes who had little cohesive to show on any kind of CORPORATE resume. I was ADDITIONALLY PANICKED by the fact I had been involuntarily committed in 1978, put on Lithium, and PERMANENTLY BRANDED FOR ALL TIME as a “mental nut-case” whom ANYONE not so branded could CLAIM was “crazy” at ANY TIME, and get away with screwing me with impunity – as well as destroying my reputation, financial security, and social life. Many had already used this power of the NEVER COMMITTED to walk all over me – ESPECIALLY my own damn family!!!
At this time, I actually believed the diagnosis (which Mom had obtained from a doctor in Cherry Hill, NJ, after she got PISSED OFF at the first shrink whose office was about 35 miles closer, and who thought I just needed to talk some things out with him.
But I did NOT take Lithium AT ALL while living in Key West until AFTER I left Tom's employ. I was SCARED TO DEATH people would discover my previous commitment and BOOT ME from Tennessee's life, so with Tony as well as Gavin Lambert -- and all others I respected -- I attempted to GET IN FRONT OF THE CRISIS and tell them right up front -- but LYING about my taking the drug then.
