So long, March

This year is rolling along at a terrific clip. I suppose the fact that I’m in my late 60s has something to do with the rate of time that slips by my window. When I was younger, things seemed to last much longer, time -wise.

I went with Scott to see a play called In the Garden. There was no garden to speak of, only five neurotic individuals spouting New Testament  zingers and Nietzsche. One spoke too fast, one spoke too soft, and the characters all seemed too loosely interacting with each other. The play was, I think, poorly directed. The director introduced himself at the start and he appears to be a fat narcissistic pig. The male nudity which, is usually from my perspective appreciated, was a distraction from what ever plot was taking place on stage.  The script could have been better written and revised. I told Scott at the end, when there was a “death on the cross scene and the body was carried off” that it was like Godspell without the music. I didn’t enjoy the show as much as Scott seemed to.

A palpable reason I didn’t enjoy it was I had problems hearing. I tried to adjust the settings but even so, it was a strain to pick up on all the dialogue. In reading this week’s New Yorker there’s an article about the proliferation of increased hearing loss and the advances that are being made in treating various kinds of loss. It also made me wonder if I got a bum deal with the hearing aids I got at Costco. I went there because my brother-in-law Dan went there and that’s where dad and mom went too. No wonder dad didn’t wear his all the time. There are times when I’m wearing them that I still have trouble hearing, and what’s worse, I have trouble talking.  I paid $2900 for these things and I think I was taken to the cleaners. Grrr.

It’s been over a month and Moonlight  has not been included in the Arizona Republic’s weekly list of quick picks. I’ve toyed with the idea of sending another letter complaining about the omission but the last time I did so I got into a cat fight with Bill Goodykoontz, the over-exposed movie critic. He said that the editor of that section didn’t include Moonlight for editorial reasons. What bogus bullshit. The editor is either homophobic, racist, or lazy. I was going to use those words in my email to him, but I’ve opted instead to post them here. Hopefully, I’ll do less harm here.

But it is a puzzle here in Phoenix, that there is such an aversion to labeling activities or events as “gay.” This weekend there’s a Phoenix Pride Festival. This is code, I guess, for those who are gay. But it leaves everyone else in the city clueless as to what is going on in Steele Park. There is no Gay Center. There is no Gay coalition. Everything is “pride” this and “pride” that.  We’ve gone back to the days when our bars didn’t have a name on the outside. We’ve become invisible again. I toy with the idea of running up a rainbow flag along side the red, white and blue. But I hesitate.  This is a neighborhood that is probably pretty red-neck. I was beaten up once before on Halloween. I don’t want to take a chance of getting my house trashed or my body smashed. My family would shake their heads and say, “Dan, what were you thinking.”

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