|
17.03.05 - 12:03 So, after posting the first part, I have been asked, by readers, to add the following adjectives to my disclaimer. Some may, after reading this, find me, in addition to those listed on the previous entry: Too picky So, where did we leave off? Oh yes, I was being goose-stepped to the KGB museum, otherwise known as Erich�s apartment. As we approached the ancient elevators I asked if he knew when this building was built. �Yes, in 1972�. Ah, yes, a lovely period of architecture in former soviet ruled East Germany I thought to myself. As the elevator burped and fumed, apparently trying to muster its energy to haul us all the way to the 2nd floor, I had a vision of a sad prisoner of war from WW2, still held in captivity, unaware that the Cold War had ended, in the basement on a treadmill that was actually the power source for the elevator. Cut off from his family for decades, his whole life consisted of running on this treadmill, ensuring that the elite of the communist system were transported, as if on air, in the elevator to their concrete blocks, stacked neatly (and equally) on top of each other, that made up this building. Erich continued to share his life story with me in great detail. My occasional �oh� or �hmm� were enough to assure him I was committing every word he said to memory. To keep myself from falling asleep while standing I would, at times, have to add a �really, how did that happen?� Saying a few words out loud assured me that if I did fall asleep while standing, at least I wouldn�t start snoring. Out of the elevator (a 10 minute ride to go 2 floors) Erich walks me to the window in the hall, �I just want to show you the building I use to live in before here� he says. As we walk towards the window I can�t help but wonder if maybe Erich doesn�t have any windows in his apartment, why else would he want us to view the building from the hall window? Suddenly I am concerned that Erich lives in a dungeon, yes, a dungeon on the second floor, but with the soviets in power in �72 anything was possible, right? I am relieved when Erich explains that his apartment doesn�t face east, so that is why we are viewing his former building from the hall. �There, that brown building right there, do you see it?� he says. See it? How could I miss it? The large brown cement building is standing there, like a huge blight on the scenery. In fact, the only other building I have seen in Europe that might be more hideous is the one I am standing in right now. I am sensing a pattern. �Why did you move out from there?� I ask. �Oh, the building was mostly old people, they were always complaining,� he said �About you doing drag?� I ask, seriously. A tad confused with my question/joke, Erich looks at me and goes temporarily quiet, for about half a second �No, I didn�t perform in the halls or anything� he says, still not sure where I was headed with my comment. �They just complained about the music and stuff,� he says. �Like when you would practice?� I said, hoping I can get away with that without him telling me to go fuck myself. �No, just the music in general, but, yeah, sometimes I would rehearse� he says and adds, �C�mon, my apartment is down here� And then he lets another bomb drop, and this one was a stink bomb, and I am not kidding. As the door opens musty smells fly at me with the force of one of those Florida Hurricanes, damn, did this place smell. So here is my other request to people of the world: If you smoke, I fully don�t judge, that�s fine, you want to do it go right ahead, but for God�s sake, if you are going to smoke in your house or apartment or cage or whatever, please open a window, light a candle, vacuum the rug, repaint quarterly, anything, please! As I entered the apartment I felt my teeth turning nicotine brown all on their own, my lungs wanted to spasm, it was hideous. And now, another bomb. �Ok, let me show you some video clips on my computer� he says. �Um, ok� I say with the enthusiasm of a five year old when the doctor says, �Now let�s give you this big ass shot with this giant needle. Nurse, bring me �The Terminator� needle!� Forty minutes later and I have seen Erich�s drag career unfold right before my eyes, and all I am wishing for is that someone shoot me right between the eyes. You know those DVD�s with the Director/Talent commentary? Picture that. And then there was the occasional moment when he would start to sing along, complete with little hand gestures as a bonus for my viewing pleasure. Now, so as not to sound like a complete ass, which might be a bit late, he did do a wonderful Judy Minnelli or whatever her name is, but this shit is just not my thing. Give me a nice Philharmonic, a Jazz ensemble, or an acoustic set with The Telegenic, but grown men in dresses and whore like make-up just doesn�t float my boat. Ok, RuPaul was cool, but he at least wore designer clothes, not scary dresses from the �50�s. Drag has always, for me, reinforced stereotypes that we gay folk have our wires crossed, that we are somewhere in the land of sexual identity confusion, and I don�t like it, not even when it�s Oktoberfest, Karnival, Gay Pride, 4th of July, whatever. And, additionally, when your average gay guy just does it for a festival or party or whatever I think it is a slap in the face to those folks that do suffer from real sexual identity confusion. Enough said. My opinion. So; back to hell. After watching all these video clips with running commentary, I am starting to get antsy, and it is getting later in the day. �Hey, should we get going for the park?� I ask. �Oh, yeah, ok, here, just watch this last clip� he says. As the commentary continues he is explaining to me all the little �glitches� that occurred during this particular performance. Here is where his wig shifted, and here is where he almost broke a heel, this part is where his false eyelash came off, etc. And as the clip ends the audience cheers and Erich, with a dream like smile on his face (I am suddenly reminded of Sunset Boulevard � the film, not the street) says to me �Yes, a lot went wrong in that performance, but no one noticed, and, well, that�s show business.� Wanting to fall on the floor laughing I restrain myself and say �Yep, that�s show business, gotta roll with the sequins� Not sure if I am poking fun, Erich gives me a funny look. Realizing that I may sound like a non-believer, I add �But, wow, I wouldn�t have noticed if you hadn�t told me, looked like a great show to me, look at the audience reaction!� Satisfied that I am now a fan of his, he smiles and says (finally) �Ok, let�s head out� At last on the tram, with the dog (who was very cute, not as cute as Junior, but a definite 2nd, and honestly, doesn�t everyone with a dog think theirs is the cutest?) Erich fills me in on his years between 25-35 (he�s already filled me in on 35-41); it�s like reading (or more like listening to a book on CD) a biography in reverse. The tram stops at the entrance to the large park, and off we go. At the entrance is a map of the park and I take a minute to look at all that is offered at this large, beautifully landscaped, place. There is a public swimming pool, a pond (which is currently frozen), bike trails, the works; it is pretty impressive. While I am studying the map Erich says, �Oh, I can show you the cruising areas, everyone needs to know where they are� STOP, HALT, FREEZE. �Not me, thanks, not my thing� I say �Everyone needs to know the cruising areas, what if this summer you�� he says, and I cut him off. �Nope, not interested, really, not me at all� I say out loud, and in my head I think �If you say the words �cruising area� one more time I am going to scream like a 6 year old girl (or 41 year old drag queen) and run down the street� I am actually more than annoyed. In the space of 2 hours this guy has given me the rundown on his life, shown me his apartment, shown me his extensive home video collection of what seemed like thousands of nights of drag, gone on and on and on and on about himself and his accomplishments (or at least that�s what he calls them), etc. The whole while he has asked me maybe 3 questions about myself and interrupted my short answers with yet another amusing anecdote about him. Where has the art of conversation gone?? In all honesty, I don�t care if you are a drag queen, if your apartment stinks, or that you are really cheap (which I gathered from his stories and the fact a price tag was provided every time he recommended a restaurant), or you buy second hand clothes and furniture, that you buy the cheapest water available in Berlin, and it comes with a slogan that says �Proudly collected from the streams of Chernobyl�, really, I don�t care. I don�t have any friends here and I can; not go inside your apartment, not go see your shows, not drink your water, etc. But for fuck�s sake, have a conversation with me; don�t just spend the day talking AT me. More annoyed than ever, I just want this walk through the park over, and I want to be back on the tram and back inside my empty apartment, I would rather be staring at a blank wall, or playing with Junior in the backyard, actually, I would be happier having a root canal with the dentist from Marathon Man. Halfway through our walk Erich says, �See, now right here to the left is one of the larger cruising areas.� Completely defeated, I say, �Oh, I see, yes, right here, ok� I�ve only given my phone number to one person in Berlin, and I already need to have it changed. Finally at home (another 2 hours later) I make a sandwich and sit on the floor trying to contemplate why it is I am a freak magnet. Take one to know one? Probably. But I can�t be a freak; I am way too boring. And now I am back to 0 friends in Berlin. But, I would rather be friendless than fake something with that dude. I call Jadem in Paris, just to hear a friendly voice and to remind myself that we met and had an instant great friendship; that it can happen. �Hey Dickhead� he says, �Fuckface, how did you know it was me?� I ask �Duh, it�s on my mobile, your number� he says �Oh yeah, caller ID, God am I out of it or what?� I ask. �Did you make your friend with the Berlin guy?� he asks (I love Jadem�s English) Lying on the floor I get ready for what is sure to be a long conversation. �You ready for this?� I ask �Sounds excellent already, wait, I pour a glass of wine� Jadem says I hear voices and wonder if Jadem was watching a movie or if he has someone over. I stare at the ceiling while I wait, I make a few hand shadows and wonder if I could get a job in the gay bars doing that. Would I be able to pack them in like Erich does with drag? �Ok, I am ready, hit us� Jadem says �Us?� I ask �Yes, Teddy is here, he wants to listen, and my mobile has speaker� he says �Hi Bean, I miss you� says Teddy �I miss you!!� I say �So, tell us what happened!� Jadem says �Oh, man, let me tell you guys� � � 
|