Stronger Than Lions - 31. The Gospel According To Chris, Part 3

April 2nd

I was waiting for the 2nd because I don’t want to write significant things down on April Fool’s Day.

Though Cal told me April 1 is the birthday of one of his favourite composers, Rachmaninov. Or is it Rachmaninoff? There are two spellings. Cal likes the "v" ending because that’s apparently correct transliteration (that word doesn’t even look real, man) from Russian, but the “ff” is what old man Sergei actually preferred. So, written like Smirnoff. Now that's Russian stuff that my mom really enjoys  

Lately it’s been the wine, though. She always liked her wine and I thought maybe she’s just happy being in wine country buying so much of it (the house came with its own fucking cellar and shit.)

And she visits friends all day and seems so happy though she’s miserable. I can see it, she’s still crying at night though she tries to hide it.

I also didn’t know that this was such a quick divorce. Usually couples fight forever and it goes to the courts back and forth for like years sometimes but, no, Dad just gave up and handed her what she wanted.

They both gave each other clean slates, but it feels like the clean slate has been glued on ugly stuff that hasn’t been really washed off.

He messaged me again. Says he wants to talk.

I’m still not sure if I want to talk.

And I’m not going to end this entry with sad stuff. Back to Rachmanino(v)(ff). Cal said “ff” kinda makes sense because “ff” means VERY LOUD in music terms, fortissimo. So maybe the guy was trying to make a point, I am Sergei, and I am living life LOUDLY. I’ve heard some of his stuff. It’s E X P R E S S I V(FF) E

I’d want Cal to play me his Rach piece, but I get a sense the man is shy. And I understand that, even though I love being watched and cheered on the field. So I just asked him to recommend a recording of the

Etude-Tableaux in A minor, Opus 33, number 2 “The Sea and the Seagulls”

Why are classical titles so long, man? It’s like drinking orange juice but saying you are downing the pulverised endocarp of Citrus sinensis (that took three Wikipedia articles, I’m not that smart. Or maybe I don’t think I am.) If mom could swap Vitis vinifera for Citrus sinensis that’d be great.

But I found this etude thing on iTunes and, like, wow. I got lost in it. Lost, but like, good lost, like when you’re standing with all your clothes on in heavy rain but it’s warm and you feel like you are just part of the clouds that are opening up to you.

Or something.

April 9th

Yeah well fuck. So my mom has admitted she’s got a drinking problem only after she ends up in the damn hospital, and I have to ask my boyfriend and his dad to help.

But I sat in Cal’s room telling him all my shit and the man isn’t judging me or my family.

He’s just there for me.

Is that how you do things, just being there for people? It’s weird being held, I’m not used to it, I am always the one who’s doing it. But when Cal’s arms are around me… leaner, lankier… he’s shorter than me but that’s easy for most folks… I feel small in a good way.

We are finally going on our first date and I’m… I’m so nervous.

Looks like my mom hasn’t drunk since. She’s irritable as fuck but she isn’t drinking. Not sure how long this will go on. But she’s trying.

April 15th

So. It was the scariest and most wonderful date I’ve ever been on.

Anxiety 20/10

Anticipation infinite

Frustration 10/10 since we can’t be seen (can we?)

Joy: off the fucking charts

How high can my heart go?

We had pizza together, dressed up for each other, and the world didn’t end.

We watched a movie together and fooled around in the dark and the world didn’t end.

We kissed in my car and it felt like the world was just beginning.

Why does everything have to happen in secret? Why can’t I hold his hand without feeling judged? Why does it feel like … if we are going to be together… we’re going to have to spend our lives explaining ourselves away?

We are at least not a crime in this country. Not any more. Nothing should be a crime if nobody is getting hurt.

Some asshole at the old school said being gay is unnatural and if it’s to be allowed then the next thing all the sickos who want to hurt kids and animals will be the next to be made legal, and I was too fucking afraid to shoot back what was in my mind, that, dude… the sickos are hurting others who are NOT ACTUALLY CAPABLE of giving their consent to the situation, so stop comparing apples to like cyanide already man.

But we are still a shadow, a curiosity, something considered odd. And yeah, it would be so much easier to be with a girl. I jerked off to some straight porn last night and then felt guilty. How’s that for tables turned. But my body likes what my body likes and nobody is getting hurt, I know that.

I get the feeling he’s scared. I hope Cal never thinks he’s some sort of phase I’m just getting through out of my system.

I could never get him out of my system even if I tried.

Have no idea what to get my boyfriend for his birthday.

Have no idea if his dad will approve.

Have no idea whom I can tell about us. Not my dad, that’s for sure. My mom, maybe?

Being in love should be scary, sure, but not frightening.

April 22nd

Dear fuckin’ diary

I have not been able to write for days cause the world ended and then started up again.

He nearly died because I kissed him in public. If you unlock the chain of events, I mean… but fast forward and his father has apologised the fuck out of himself (apologies in a Scottish accent sound like a declaration of war, but Cal’s dad is solid with us now).

My mom came up to me and told me she’d figured it out but was waiting for me to tell her.

I couldn’t tell my own mom I was so scared. Never mind how my dad would flip the fuck out.

He called. Spoke normally to me. Says he’s coming down to Cape Town next week and wants to clear the air.

Even called me “boykie” which is his nickname for me. I haven’t heard that in a long time.

Almost felt like he was missing me.

May 3rd

Well fuck you Dad.

May 15th

How weird this life is.

How it can be normal to lie naked next to the man you love in his bedroom and know that within this house, this little bubble of space and time, nobody is judging us. Not the old cat, not the patterns on the ceiling.

Not Cal’s dad who just wants us to be discreet.

Not my mother who is in rehab.

Not my brother who at worst thinks it’s amusing I also like guys. He’s never had much tact. Poor Cal’s face when he told us flat-out he didn’t think his little brother preferred beef.

Not the moths that seem to be all over the place in Cape Town at this time of year. They are strange things, no wonder Virginia fuckin’ Woolf wrote things about them. It seems as if the universe sends you echoes of what you focus on, sometimes. She even wrote that words are full of echoes. Okay so it was a radio broadcast (and how I hope I can hear that, it’s not on the internet, but this YouTube thing is seriously exploding and maybe someone will put it there one day?)

Cue image of me writing I am a moth to Cal’s flame. I could think of better images: we are moths circling a light together, I only hope it’s like an LED that is cool to the touch and only gives out light and not an old fashioned bulb with a filament because then we die.

Or maybe we just need to be planets at the Goldilocks distance he told me, planets in orbital resonance...

No wait.

Heavenly bodies forming conjunctions, while going about their own paths, so this third thing is made, that is bigger than both of them, yet they retain their own essence:

SYZYGY

I’ve always known that lust is wild. I’m discovering language is wilder. And that love is the wildest thing.

Love is, maybe, the syzygy of the flesh and the soul.