Changing your strut when you know I’m behind you
Changing your ways ’cause you don’t know what to do
I only wanna tell you how I feel inside
If only you could listen, try to change your mind
I’ve got a friend, guy I’ve known for ten years or so. He’s got an enormous amount of staggering health issues, the little weak ones being severe diabetes and some muscle disorder that causes his eyes to constantly jitter horizontally, rendering him Officially Blind although he can drive a car and walk around and do many things that normally sighted folks can do. But that, combined with the vision challenges that come with being an albino, make him blind in the eyes of whatever agency makes those decisions.
He’s a really funny guy, very sharp and we get along great. Or at least we did, until circumstances caused him to move back to the smaller city that he came from to go back to work in the family business. A little more than a year ago he decided to come out as a gay man, came to all of his friends individually to tell us after he’d had a weight-lifting meeting with his parents that had gone well. It’s doubtful that the city he was returning to would be as supportive and provide the, shall we say, more fertile ground he’d enjoy in Austin regarding his sexuality, but he felt it necessary to go back. We all wished him well but expected that this couldn’t last.
So I walk right up to you and you walk all over me
And I ask you what you want and you tell me what you need
Can’t you feel it all come down?
Can’t you hear it all around?
At the place where lost is found, that great love sound
In his absence and his distance he took to Facebook to communicate with his friends from his remote outpost. He’d always trended toward the cryptic, but these one-line messages became exasperating in their vague but consistently sad drumbeat. The messages read like inside jokes that weren’t funny, but could only be deciphered by being at Ground Zero of their origin. A few drew responses, and those were either questions that went unanswered or feeble pleas from some of his less-stable friends who hoped things would get better.
These messages went on for months and mutated into tangential references to medical procedures or conditions that were never defined, just remarked on as episodes that resulted in depressing news, over and over and over. “Another doctor visit. Another disappointment.” It was impossible to tell what was going on, but the depressing message was clear – whatever it was that he wanted or needed wasn’t getting done for whatever reason. Lots of us wondered about his health and how badly he was declining, but there were no answers, just the beacon of pain flipping around in the fog.
A certain amount of this seemed to be a diva turn, some kind of need for him to be front and center for us all. He didn’t want to perform but he’d always wanted the applause and since he’d moved that want had turned to need. The volume of vaguebooking became something like a flood as it shifted to a cry for attention rather than a cry of pain. I can’t pinpoint exactly when that point was reached, but it was a common view of many – he was looking for an audience, people to care in a public way.
Lots of us have holes that can’t ever be filled. We’ve all got traumas and tragedies that happen along the way and how we react to them is the shape we take in our lives. Not every tree grows straight and tall; not every crack in the ground is filled and smoothed over. Everyone wants comfort and companionship, no matter how they decide to seek it out.
A couple of weeks ago he posted a picture of himself and another woman. She had her head poised slightly above his, and the two of them were in closeup. He’d let his hair go long again, long white hair down his neck and a little past his shoulders. It was difficult to tell from the angle, but the clothing that ended around the back of one arm looked a lot like a dress.
The picture was captioned, “Two Lovely Ladies.”
***
I don’t put a lot of stock in reincarnation. I’m pretty much of the mind that once you take the dirt nap, it’s all over except for the decay. This aging thing is all new to me. I don’t have a father to lean on for guidance, and my friends are generally younger than I am, so in some ways I’m the prow of the boat on this journey. That’s ok, I’m not complaining, it’s a role I’ve had for decades but every once in a while I kinda wish there was even the battered remnants of a manual somewhere.
When does the hunter stop hunting? Is it a matter of choosing different prey, or do you still go out with the braves but watch the kill instead of participating? Is that ever enough, when you’ve been the instrument that brought so many down in the past? There is a primal need for the hunt, just as there is for the kill but they become more difficult as time passes, and the reward incrementally less so.
I knew early on that she was in my blood. Our orbits would cross infrequently, but when they did we’d prolong the time in a strange mixture of celebration and denial. We’d spend hours together during the days, making little excuses to be in the company of each other just until it started to feel a little too real, and then we’d slide on to the rest of our lives. There was never a discussion of what was going on, and she could snap from comfortable flirt to distant acquaintance in the time it took for her guilt to spread its wings.
“We could be in Mexico in six hours. Maybe less.”
“No. Can’t leave the kids.”
Two days later we’d be in a meeting and she would never even make eye contact, much less acknowledge my presence in the room. The next day we’d spend hours together again, making small talk, trading stories, moving closer until she’d close her office door so we could be alone.
Age has brought doubt, and self-awareness has become a swampy jungle that can’t be reliably navigated. Abandoning the hunt feels like abandoning a room in a house, shutting a door for the last time. Or maybe the door is being shut for me, and if that’s the case then continuing on would only be sad and ultimately embarrassing.
Talking to you makes me wanna shake and shout
Touching you makes me wanna come right out
You could never want me the same way I want you
I’m love tornado struck, I don’t know what to doSo I walk right up to you and you walk all over me
And I ask you what you want and you tell me what you need
Can’t you feel it all come down?
Can’t you hear it all around?
At the place where lost is found, that great love sound
***
Seattle is a team that is trying to avoid free fall. Over a third of their roster has been turned over since beginning the season. A strong rotation has been ravaged at the back end, and prospects have flamed out while young players have been pushed to the majors. Sound familiar? It should. Ten games apart in the win column, but Seattle and Houston are closer than you might expect.
Seattle Mariners vs. Houston Astros
Friday, July 19, 7:10 PM CDT, Minute Maid Park
Joe Saunders, 8-8, 4.24 vs Bud Norris, 6-8, 3.63
Saturday, July 20, 6:10 PM CDT, Minute Maid Park
Hisashi Iwakuma, 8-4, 3.02 vs. Erik Bedard, 3-6, 4.61
Sunday, July 21, 1:10 PM CDT, Minute Maid Park
Felix Hernandez, 10-4, 2.53 vs. Jordan Lyles, 4-3, 4.02
Promotions
Friday, “Big and Bright Friday Nights,” Friday Night Fireworks, $1 Dog Night
Saturday, Faith and Family Night featuring Tenth Avenue North, Astros Blood Drive
Boy, those ought to pack ’em in.
You’re a rhyme without a reason
And you know it so well
Who’s the king of the season
Well you never can tell
Though it’s so plain to see
You think you like to be normal
You think you’re in control
But the action you take only makes you small
Just like the way it should be
The Astros are accelerating moves, trying players at different levels to see what they’ve got before the Trade Deadline, before making cuts, before next year’s Rule 5 scythe stops being Houston’s ally. Seattle is roughly a year or two ahead of the curve Houston is on now. There are some exceptions, namely Felix Hernandez, but that mix of guys who aren’t panning out and regarded prospects who aren’t quite ready has dumped the Mariners toward the bottom of the division, just this side of our Home Nine.
My friend wears dresses, jewelry and makeup now. He’s posted several pictures and our stunned silence caused him to ramp up his remarks about no one commenting. He looks like a man in a dress. Is that what he wants me to say?
I feel the twilight of the days of good hunting. I don’t know what replaces that, and what the penalty is for relinquishing the reins. I’m not all that great with time on my hands but whatever time there is will come at its own pace. I’ll deal with it as it happens.
I hope your futures are bright, and they burn on your terms.
You’re a book out of nowhere
Being read all the time
And the things that you give me
Only show that you’re blind
And when you know it’s all over
And you’re goin’ insane
I’m just there to remind you that I can’t feel no pain
Why don’t you let it beCause I’m not afraid to fall
No I’m not afraid to fall
I’m not afraid at all