I went up Calton Hill with the gang last night for Beltane. It was a perfect evening, with a huge pastel rainbow sunset above the expanse of old and new Edinburgh. The features on the hill seemed to stand in sharper relief than usual — Nelson’s tower like a big upended telescope, and the Folly’s Acropolis front looking like part of a giant stone playpen the city had violently outgrown.
Even though we’ve all been going to the event for the same number of years, Liz expertly led us from one station of the procession to another, finding corners that nobody else had noticed, so that when the singing, dancing, drumming red, blue, and white-painted people came around we were perfectly situated. (If our Friday Gang was a Japanimation robot, Liz would be the part that says “And I’ll form the head!”)
I had a plastic bottle of pre-mixed absinthe with me, which essentially served as my lobotomy for the evening. There seems to be a chemical truth to its romantic reputation as an arty drunk. My friends did that thing of looking at me with a smirk while taking care of me, leading me around. I was overwound (yet run-down), and they tended to me like excellent watchsmiths. This also goes for friends abroad, who know how to talk me out of my crazy tree.
I don’t know why, but I smell like meat this morning. Funny things happen at Beltane. I must shower when I’m finished this.
[EDIT: Liz’s pictures are up!]
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(More pictures in the Pics section to the left. But they’re all out of order ’cause of the wonky uploader I used. And unfortunately, our friend Olivier, who was there with us for the first few days, doesn’t really make an appearance in them, ’cause a day’s photos got deleted from the camera — oops!)
Barcelona was lovely, but I have to admit that there were challenges. My folks and I saw great things and enjoyed each other’s company, but we also had some stresses to deal with.
I’m also not good at being in constant company; I’m an introvert — solitude gives me my energy back — so two weeks kinda made my batteries flat. I love my folks so much, and I’m so conscious of making all my time with them count that it actually makes me weird, like I can’t just take things as they are because I have this mental template of how special our time together is supposed to be. Cosgrove pointed this out to me in an instant message (I love how technology allows people to be in my life without having to be physically present). He said “…stop making yourself wrong for not always having a ‘FABULOUS GREAT TIME’, which occurs as somewhat fake and desperate anyway.” Patrick’s also been great, like some kind of boiler technician, letting out my steam.
What really turned up the pressure, though, was that I met someone just before I went away on this trip. This always happens: things take place just before I go away, usually to Canada for a month, then there’s nothing I can do about them but think and think and overthink.
I won’t say more about this, except that I nearly wrecked it through this overthinking. I call this the Jack Russell Terrier Effect: I’m a smart little doggie, and if you leave me unattended for too long, I’ll tear up the furniture.
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p>Romance plays into a horrible confluence of my personality traits. In most situations in my life, these are good things, but in this domain, they’re dangerous. To whit, here are a few:
| Characteristic | Elsewhere | Romance |
| Impatience | I get things done. I write books, I make things, I jump over deadlines like a border collie clears hurdles. | I exist in a kind of hummingbird time, in which the other person is occupied with regular life things, but I seem to have extra time to obsess. |
| Persistence | I start and finish projects. I can be relied on to do what I say I’m going to do. | When there’s no action to take, nothing I can do, my brain just won’t leave things alone, and goes into ‘hamster in a wheel’ mode. And then I make decisions or take action based on, well, stupidity. |
| Imagination | I draw, I write, I say funny things. | I make things up from scratch that have no basis in fact. I imagine that things have ended, which often precipitates making that happen in reality. |
| Communication | I express myself in detail, and find just the right words to say. I’m unreserved about saying everything I think. | I say too much, too early. |
I hate to play the gay card, but when you grow up with a fear of people seeing who you really are and hating you for it, it’s hard to shake off that pattern of thought. What’s odd is that, happily, many of my gay friends don’t have this. Patrick, my closest example, is completely free of gay angst. What’s particularly annoying is that this old closet has been completely emptied out — the contents have been burned in the yard, and the monster I imagined was in there turned out to not be real. But that pattern of thinking is always there for me, waiting for a chance to reactivate itself. So, paradoxically, as an adult I can be a person who’s confident to the point of egotism, yet have this dread fear of having my worthlessness discovered — even though I don’t believe it’s true.
On the trip, both of my parents said things to me that were overwhelmingly acknowledging, telling me how proud they are of me, how much they like me as a person. I couldn’t help laughing inside, thinking, “Some people wait their whole lives for this stuff and never get it.” They give this to me over and over, and always have done. So you’d think I would pay attention to that interpretation instead of the made-up one. And most of the time I do.
Anyway, all this is to say that I’ve been driving myself crazy with hopes and fears about a situation that hasn’t even had a chance to play itself out. But then last night I had a phone conversation that made everything okay, and, while I have compassion for my humanity, I feel embarrassed about my behaviour (most of which, thankfully, happened offstage, in my head, and in conversation with Patrick).
I really wish I could wise up in this part of life. I doubt, though, that such root instincts can be schooled. I think we always remain about five years old emotionally, we just learn to put up blocks and filters and develop tactics for managing ourselves.
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p>…Which underscores, I suppose, how relatively inexperienced I am in romance. It’s kind of ironic, when myself and my other gay friends have had exponentially more sex than our straight friends, yet I can count the number of successful, long-term relationships I’ve had — well, on my thumb.