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Chapter List / Other
Novels
/ Home transformation Depression sometimes disappears for no apparent
reason. Some attribute this phenomenon to dreams, following a line of thought
in which the mind shut down originally in self-defense, then used dreams to
work through the problems. As this all takes place at levels that are not
conscious, the person falls into and out of depression without actually being
party to it, and recovery comes as a wonderful surprise. This did not happen with Joe. When depression doesn’t go away by itself,
and one has declined medical care for whatever reasons, there are three
pretty-sure cures available: 1/suicide, or death by any means, seems to do
the job (Again, one can never be sure); 2/being needed is restorative to many
people, if there’s no hint of conspiracy; and the third happens when life
gets so absurd that one can’t help but laugh. Joe was very lucky: He got two
out of three. Joe’s recovery began the minute Roger and
Lonnie carried Jasper into the trailer and laid him out on the couch. One
look at his burnt boy with the white hair and the crystal eyes was all it
took for Joe to do some instant rethinking of his current priorities. Jasper
needed him. Jasper refused to see a doctor. He knew his
sight would return; he knew the sunburn wasn’t that bad. He didn’t want
“them” poking around to find out how his hair turned white. He didn’t want to
have to explain to anyone what happened to him, because he knew he couldn’t
verbalize it. Joe bathed him in warm tea to soothe the
burn and help it heal. He shampooed Jasper’s new hair, making it whiter yet.
Joe agonized, privately, over Jasper’s eyes, wishing he knew what to do about
them. He studied Jasper’s eyes, and was surprised to find that they were
peaceful. He had expected to see pain. And the peace in Jasper’s eyes
dissolved the despair in Joe’s. Within a week, they were both feeling much
better. It was easy to tell that Joe was finally
coming out of his depression: “Jasper?” “What?” “Did we bring the other leg
with us?” “Yeah. It’s on the top shelf of
the closet. Are you finally going to start wearing it?” “Actually, I was thinking of making a
planter out of it. Do you think the cup’s deep enough for grape ivy?” Every day Joe took Jasper for a walk around
the clock, describing for him which of the flowers were opening or closing,
and what the shadows were doing. What an odd couple they made, out there
ambling through the garden: Jasper, not yet familiar with blindness, was
stiff and hesitant; Joe, in the trainer leg he’d been avoiding of late, was
limping. “We must look like the opening line of one
of those long, involved jokes,” Joe said. “Like: A blind man and a cripple were
walking across the desert, when. . . .” “When they stumbled onto a. . .
.” Jasper offered. “David Lerner,” Joe finished
the sentence. “Naw,” said Jasper, “lacks suspense,
which you have to have in long jokes.” “He’s here.” But David didn’t lack suspense. He came
laden with stories, most of which came out of the renewed headline war
between his Pink Paper and Frank’s Westender. Joe led everyone to the patio,
and served lemonade. “Neat hair,” David said, bobbing and
weaving as people often do in front of blind people to make sure they really
are. “You aren’t going to believe what he’s done this time.” “Who?” Joe finally got to ask
David. “Frank. “Oh,” said Joe, disappointed
that David didn’t get his little role-reversal joke. “ “He has somehow gotten Billy
Nichols on his side.” “Who?” Joe tried again. “Geez, where have you been?
He’s the director of the National Alliance of Gays.” “Nag?” asked Joe. “What?” asked David. “Never mind. “ “And not only that,” David went on, unaware
that life existed outside of his own concerns. He did hesitate for a second
to wonder why Jasper was chuckling, but it was a mere pause: “I think Frank
is actually trying to create news just so his headlines can be bigger than
mine. I found out that he’s been meeting with Roger.” “Like you meet with Ray?”
Jasper suggested. “No, not like I meet with Ray. I meet with
Ray because I’m involved in the Society’s business. Frank meets with Roger to
help him plan things to say and do—so Frank can write another story about him
and the Pagan Pansies, trying to make the Society of Others look bad.” “Which isn’t what you do in the
reverse?” Joe said. “No way. Like a week ago. Did
you hear about what the Baldies did to our building?” “Who?” Joe said, and this time
he had to laugh aloud, as did Jasper. “What’s so funny?” asked David. “Who the hell are the Baldies?” “Oh. They’re the local troop of
the Skinheads. You have heard of them, haven’t you? “ “Yes.” “Well, the Baldies showed up in the middle
of the night and plastered the whole front of the market with rotten eggs.
The smell was sickening for blocks in every direction. I guess we were lucky
that’s all they did. Some of those guys kill people, I hear. Anyway, that’s
not the worst part. That raid made the local paper, and suddenly ‘concerned
citizens’ are meeting to discuss how a hospice came to be located in
Cathedral City. Mind you, there were all the proper hearings and public
notices before the permits were issued, but these good citizens didn’t hear
about it. Now they think the hospice and the whole Society should be closed
down. “Typical,” Joe said. “There’s more,” David said. “So, Ray goes
through all the right legal steps to try and save the place from the
do-gooders, and we think we’ve got ‘em beat...when Roger steps in. He takes
his thugs over to the community center where the good citizens are meeting to
find new ways to throw us out of town . . . and the PeePees, as you used to
call them, stage a Piss-In. Well—” “A what?” “A Piss-In. At the end of the meeting, they
waited outside the front door, and when everybody came out, they hauled out
their peepees, ha ha, and pissed all over the place!” “Amazing, “ Joe said. “Well, that got the citizens really
pissed-off, ha ha, and they got a court order to close the place down...that
night! One of the committee members was a judge, wouldn’t you know. They put
padlocks on the door and everything!” “Where did everybody go?”
Jasper asked. “Scattered, mostly. Some went home to
Mommy. Others went to stay with friends. The people in the hospice were the
big problem, but Ray called someone with a women’s club here in Palm Desert, and
they found temporary homes for everybody. I think your mother was part of it,
Jasper.” “Really? That’s odd...it
surprises me, but then it doesn’t,” Jasper said. “That’s what you get when you
know people on different levels,” Joe said. “Ray is livid by this time, and he can’t
make up his mind who he wants to kill more, Roger or the town. He storms over
to the motel to confront Roger, but Roger and the PeePees aren’t there. So,
Ray decides to take his protest to the county offices up in Riverside. And he
takes me with him. We get there about noon, and as we’re walking from the
parking lot to the main building, we see this van pull up in front. Roger’s
van. Or, one of the Pansies’ vans—I don’t think Roger has a van. Anyway, the
side door flings open and out jumps Roger, followed by six or seven Pansies,
and they’re dragging four Baldies from the van up to the building. And, get
this, the Baldies are all naked. I mean, buck naked. And bald all over. Roger
said something about, If they’re gonna call themselves Baldies, they oughta
be bald. So they shaved them! Can you imagine that?!” “Right out there on the
sidewalk?” Joe asked, having no problem imagining any of this. “No, they’d done it in the van on the ride
up there, I think. Anyway, they were already shaved when I saw them. Two of
them had erections, which I thought was pretty funny. Ray didn’t think any of
it was funny, so I kept that to myself.” “What did they do with them?”
Joe asked, wanting to get on with the visual imagery. “Chained them to the iron fence at the top
of the steps,” David said, “and then padlocked the chains. Roger told them it
was God’s justice, ‘A padlock for a padlock,’ then they all ran back to the
van and sped away. So did we. Ray was sure they’d arrest us, thinking we were
a part of it.” “Ray will kill me,” Joe said,
“but I love that story.” “I think I’d like to talk to
Roger, and to Muriel,” Jasper said. “Well, I don’t know about Muriel,” David
said, “but Roger is going to be a little hard to find. He’s gone into
hiding.” “Where?” asked Joe, obviously
without thinking. “How the hell would I know?!”
David shouted. “He’s the enemy!” “He is not your enemy, David, “
Jasper said. To which Joe added: “Sounds to
me like he’s out there fighting for you.” “Fighting, yes. But too much. We wouldn’t
have been padlocked out in the first place if’ they hadn’t pissed on all of
them.” “You don’t know that,” Joe said. “Those
people obviously have some power, and they probably would’ve gotten around to
using it sooner or later. Roger just speeded up the red tape.” “I’m sorry, but I don’t agree. I think we
would’ve beat them if Roger had stayed away. And I’m going to say so in my
paper this week. I won’t say that I know he was the one who shaved the Baldies,
because I don’t think the authorities have a clue, but I am going after him
for interfering in the Society’s business and fucking up the legal process.
Now, I’ve got to get back to town, or there won’t be a paper this week. Walk
me to the car?” David asked Joe, and they both got up and walked down the
driveway to David’s car. David waved goodbye to Jasper; Joe didn’t bother to
stop him. They talked for quite some time before Joe
returned, and Jasper asked Joe what they talked about. Joe, not in the mood
at the moment to lie, told him it was a secret, then went into the trailer to
look for a pen and a writing tablet. Muriel and Max came for a visit the next
afternoon. They came to talk about the hospice problem, but that got
sidetracked for a little while because no one had told them about Jasper’s
little difficulty. “My God!” said Muriel. “Jesus Christ!” said Max. “What
the hell happened to you?” “Bleach and contact lenses, “
quipped Joe, hoping to ease their upset. It didn’t help. Whatever their
faults, they were his parents, and they were suddenly confronted with a
rather startling view of their son. They were a bit shaken. “His, uh, hair is, uh, is
white,” stammered Max. “Yes,” Joe said, unable to
conjure up any other appropriate response. “His eyes look...they look....”
Muriel tried to say. “Like crystals?” Joe asked. If we can’t
avoid this conversation, let’s at least get on with it. “Is he blind?” Max asked. “Yes,” Joe said. “Can he hear us?” Muriel asked, slightly
overlapping Max’s: “Can he speak?” Apparently, Jasper was enjoying all this,
because he said nothing. He just grinned, which wrinkled his brow, causing a
huge chunk of skin to fall from his forehead to his lap. The sight of it made Muriel
dizzy. “I’m going to faint.” Max helped her to a chair, then sat beside
her, not sure of his own ability to remain standing at that point. “Jasper, before we lose your mother, don’t
you think you’ve carried this far enough? Lemonade, everyone?” Joe went
inside before anyone had time to answer. “Hi Mom. Hi Dad. Sorry about that, but you
were talking about me like I wasn’t here, and I suddenly felt like I wasn’t.” “What happened?” “1 fell asleep out in the sun . . . for
hours. The doctor said I must have had my eyelids open, or partially open,
because the receptors were overloaded. Not to worry, he said, they usually
heal themselves, or grow back. The hair thing, he said, was probably from the
chemical changes my body went through from the sunburn.” Jasper wished he
could see their faces, so he’d know if they believed him or not. He wasn’t
getting any “vibrations” from them at all. Joe returned with glasses and a pitcher of
lemonade, which he poured and passed, studying faces as he went. “That old
sun is mighty powerful, isn’t it?” he asked. “Did the doctor say how long your eyes
would take to heal?” Muriel asked, ignoring Joe altogether. “Weeks. Months. Depends on the individual’s
system. You know, some people heal quickly, while others seem to take
forever,” Joe said, convinced that his contributions would somehow lend
authenticity to the story. “Mother,” Jasper said, “I feel fine, so
there’s nothing to worry about. Joe takes care of me, and I’m sure my sight will
be back very soon. Now, what’s this I hear about you helping Ray Wade with
his hospice?” “Well,” Muriel began, “when his building
got locked, your friend Ray Wade called an old family friend of his here in
Palm Desert, and she’s a friend and client of mine. We’re in the same women’s
club. She called everyone in the whole club, insisting we each take in at
least one of the people from the hospice. Let me tell you, she is a very
persuasive woman (You may translate that as “Rich Bitch” if you like; Joe did),
and I found myself offering to take two. We do have two spare bedrooms, after
all. “The whole problem got me to
thinking—They’re both very nice men, by the way—that got me to thinking about
finding a permanent place for these people to live. And, a quick shuffle
through my listings gave me the answer. I’ve had this awful piece of property
listed for years. No one wants to buy it because it’s too far from the main
road, which means it isn’t good for commercial development. It used to be a
ranch, but nothing grows there. I talked them into trading properties with
Ray Wade: their ranch with the house for his lot with the market building,
which they’ll just tear down, of course. But the thing is, they get saleable
property. And Ray gets a place so far from town that no one can possibly
complain that he is running a hospice.” “Muriel, I’m very proud of
you,” Joe said. “Yeah Mom,” said Jasper, “me
too.” “She has another surprise for you as well,”
Max said, feeling he should say something, but unable to contribute to the
accolades. “Well, this is just too much for one day,”
said Joe. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” “Ignore him, Mom,” Jasper said. “He’s been
giddy since he came out of his depression. What is it?” “I sold this property, too,”
Muriel said gleefully. “Oh,” said both Joe and Jasper,
neither gleefully. “Don’t look so glum,” Muriel said. “I sold
it to Ray, and for a very reasonable price. It’s strictly a land investment,
and he wants you to stay here, just as you are. Confidentially, I’m going to
sell that awful motel of his in Cathedral City, and he’ll make a lot more on
that than he paid for this place, so this is not some kind of charity
arrangement. But do keep it quiet for now. He doesn’t want anyone to know
he’s selling the motel, and I certainly don’t want anyone to know I’m
handling it for him. Okay?” Joe and Jasper assured her that they
wouldn’t tell a soul; and they were polite enough to wait until Max and
Muriel left before they started to laugh. David got his revenge. He showed up a few
days later with that week’s edition of The Pink Paper. This time Joe was not
polite enough to wait for the visitor to leave before he started to laugh; he
took one look at the headlines and started to chuckle. “What?” asked Jasper. “The...the headline...” Joe
tried to say between giggles. “What?” “Wait, I . . . I can’t . . . okay, here
goes: Pansy Chief Caught In Hetero Lovenest!” Joe blurted out, then collapsed
into a chair, laughing hysterically. Jasper howled. David turned a very deep red, veins bulged
at his temples, and he clenched his fists. He stomped off to his car,
shouting, “I finally got that sonofabitch!” They understood that to mean
Frank, rather than Roger. Joe tried to read the article to Jasper,
but couldn’t even get through the first sentence: “‘Roger Crawford,
supposedly in hiding from a recent misdeed, was tracked down by this reporter
to a small apartment in West Hollywood where he was photographed with...’
There’s a picture! Where’s the picture, David?! Oh, ‘See photo on page two.’
Aha! God, I wish you could see this. It’s Roger in his underpants standing
next to a bed with a girl in it. She’s holding the sheet over her tits!” “Poor David,” said Jasper. “He went from
gossip columnist to journalist to muckraker all in one short career.” “Well, the world can rest easier now that
the ‘Chief Pansy’ has been exposed as a dreaded hetero. “ “I thought it was ‘Pansy Chief,” said
Jasper. “Besides, I would’ve guessed you’d be pleased, knowing the way you
feel about Roger.” “Oh honey, I don’t care
anymore. It’s all so absurd!” Now, just to make sure that Joe was cured
for good, there was one more little bit of absurdity to come his way: Next to
the picture on page two was a short item reprinted from a local Los Angeles
paper. It was about a flock of green parrots. “Lucilles!” “What?” “Lucilles! This says a whole flock of
Lucilles has been terrorizing posh neighborhoods around Glendale and Burbank.
There are thirty or more of them, and they land in someone’s yard and eat all
their trees and shit all over everything, then fly off to somebody else’s
house and do it all over again. They don’t know where this strange flock came
from, but some expert guesses that a couple of pet parrots were let out into
the wild and raised a family. So far, all efforts to restrain the birds have
failed. Would you like some cake and ice cream? This has been such a
wonderful day, I feel like celebrating.” “Two scoops,” was Jasper’s
reply. Joe did not mention the article
on page three. It was called “The Legend. of Jasper Kell” and it was
subtitled “Part IV: How Jasper Kell’s Hair and Beard Became White.” One of
the advantages of living with a blind man is that it’s easy to keep secrets
from him. So, you see how absurdity
works? Absurd events require a great deal more energy to get. moving than
everyday-life requires just to lie there and do nothing. It’s called inertia.
Life coasts along in its usual, reality-based, melodramatic mode until
there’s a big enough burst of energy to thrust it upward into its rarified,
surreality-based, absurdist mode. Then the gods, and a few astute beings, get
a really big laugh, which dissipates the energy and the whole cycle starts
over again. Joe just could not sit still. It was
driving Jasper nuts, because Joe was constantly wanting to take him for
walks. “Walkies!” Joe would cry as he
bounded of bed at six in the morning. “Can we have a cup of coffee
first?” Jasper would ask. “We’ll take a thermos.” Joe walked Jasper around the garden: “I think,” Joe said, “that what
caused my heart attack was the Oedipal thrill.” “Huh?” “Well, when you look at us, what do you
see?” “Nothing,” said Jasper, dryly. “Oh, sorry. Figuratively, I meant. Mother
and Son, right? Well, there we were, you naked and hard, me down on my knees.
The incest of it all was just too much for my ticker.” Joe took Jasper for walks to the Mobil
station and back (the place where Dora got her gasoline to burn the hen
house): “Parents are funny creatures,”
Joe said. “No argument here,” said
Jasper. “I mean, we’ll do the strangest things,
things that don’t make sense to anyone else in the world, even to other parents.
And we do whatever it is, however strange it is, because of some innate
knowledge we have of what our children need. You can’t ever explain why you
do something; it’s often irrational, even to yourself. Nevertheless, you have
to do it. Sometimes it gets so bad that you begin to wonder if you going
crazy, like other people would have you believe. To me, it’s a miracle that
parents survive at all.” Joe took Jasper for walks into town and
back: “I think I ‘m beginning to understand my
obsolescence,” Joe said. “Or, at least the end of my usefulness as a Gay
Auntie. “ “What do you mean?” asked
Jasper, too forcefully. “Did I hit a nerve?” “No. I just asked.” “Yes . . . well. What I mean is, for eons,
there were all these innocent little gay boys coming to awareness, and all
thinking ‘I’m the only one who feels this way.’ So, in order to keep them all
from killing themselves, a curious evolution took place. The Gay Auntie. Guys
like me, visible homosexuals. A kid runs away from home and goes to the heart
of the city, any city. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he knows
that he’ll recognize it when he sees it. He walks into a coffee shop or a
tearoom somewhere and, Bingo! That’s her! ‘Auntie!’ he cries, and they live
happily ever after.” “Just like us,” Jasper said. “I
love fairy tales.” “Shut up and let me finish,” Joe said with
a smile. “Well, along comes Stonewall, which gets a little bit of a movement
started. But not enough to do away with the Aunties yet. We coast along for
ten or fifteen years, and the big virus hits. That sets the real movement
going, and pretty soon there are organizations everywhere. Social, political,
service, religious and whatever. Books, magazines and newspapers spread the
word, and then, everywhere a kid looks is a gay model to choose from, to
identify with. He is no longer lost. If he has to run away from home, he can
find help in the yellow pages. He doesn’t get lost on the street, looking for
some vague androgynous image. We Aunties are obsolete. We are no longer
needed . . . as such. “I still need you,” Jasper
said. “I know that. But it’s personal with us. We
are not a sociological phenomenon.” “Personally. I don’t think I’d
want to be.” “Taking us to the next step in the
evolutionary process. Passive gives way to aggressive. The Matriarchy is
falling. So, where do you go next? Heroes, that’s where. Male Heroes. And in
this case, it will have to be Gay Male Heroes. They make demagogues out of
the men who come to the front. The leaders become more than mere leaders;
they become idols. Even the ones who don’t want the title have to suffer
through the adoration, and guys like Ray and Roger just eat it up. Most of
the others are ordinary men who had the energy and guts to get out there and
fight for the gay community. Imagine what would happen if a really
extraordinary man came along. Why, they’d deify him.” Jasper’s left eye started to
twitch. On David’s next visit, he and Joe were
having their usual secret meeting out by the road when David stumbled over the
word, “Auntie.” “I’m sorry,” David said. “For what?” Joe asked. “For accidentally calling you
Auntie.” “What do you mean,
accidentally?” “Oh. I . . . no...I meant...”
David stuttered. “Tell me, David.” “I can’t. “I will find a way to punish you if you
don’t.” “Jasper said we shouldn’t call
you that anymore. “That little shit. When did he
say this?” “After your heart attack. When
you moved out here to the desert.” “Now, why did Jasper say a foolish
thing like that?” “He said you were depressed about
everything, and that you were confused about your identity, or something like
that. He said you’d get better faster if you started thinking of yourself as
Joe Dixon instead of Auntie.” Joe walked away from David’s car without
saying another word, but he did turn back to wave when he heard David start
up the car and drive away. Joe decided he was going to have a nice long chat
with Jasper this evening. But he didn’t have to wait that long,
because at that moment Jasper drove up beside Joe in the Lincoln convertible. “Get in, Joe. I’ll take you for
a ride,” Jasper said. Joe got in, and they sped away. His mind
was still on what David had told him, but something else was bothering him as
well. If only he could put his finger on it... “Jasper!” “What?” “You can see again! “ Joe
screamed. “No, why?” “Because you’re driving, that’s
why!!” “Oh shit!!” yelled Jasper, and he started to
veer from one side of the road to the other, finally coming to a screeching
halt on the shoulder. “Are you crazy?!” Joe shouted.
“You could’ve killed us!” Jasper turned to Joe with a very big grin
on his face, as well as with a smile in his blue-blue eyes. “You shit! You nearly scared me to death!
Do you want me to have another heart attack? Do you? I cannot believe you! I
cannot believe how wonderful this is. When did it come back?” “About an hour ago. Sure feels
good.” “Where are we going?” Joe asked. “Huh?” “You said you were going to
take me for a ride. “ “Oh. I want to show you where I
used to go on Sundays. Eagle Rock.” “I’m game. Did you bring
anything to eat? I’m suddenly very hungry.” “Packed us a picnic lunch. Sandwiches,
wine, the whole bit, including your favorite pickles.” But when Jasper parked the car near the
path to the Rock, he received a very strong sensation coming from the
direction of the cave. “What’s wrong?” Joe asked. “I’m not sure. I’d. better go ahead. Follow
me, but stay a few yards behind me in case there’s something wrong. It’s just
over the hill and then a hundred yards due west.” Jasper pulled a small bottle
out of his pocket and removed the cap. “What’s that?” asked Joe. “Cinnamon oil,” Jasper said as
he took off his shirt and began to rub the oil on his body. “Why are you doing that?” “To cover up my scent.” “Oh,” said Joe, as though it
made sense to him. Just before Jasper disappeared over the crest
of the hill, Joe could see that he was removing his pants. Joe was more than
a few yards behind now, because the sand was very soft and the trainer leg
was not handling it too well. At the top of the hill, he fell flat on his
face. From his prone position, Joe had an
excellent view of the mouth of the cave, and the naked and erect Jasper who
was just running, screaming, into the cave. Joe called out to him, then got
to his feet and began the difficult trek down the backside of the hill. He
fell twice more before he came to more level ground below. Terrible noises emanated from the cave.
First, there was a thudding sort of sound, followed by what he thought were
Jasper’s screams, but they were too muffled to be certain. Joe tried to run, but there was soft sand
here as well, and he fell helplessly to the ground. He called out again,
“Jasper!” and this time he was answered: “SCREAK!” Joe clambered to his feet once more, only
to be met by an overwhelming sight and sound. A giant golden eagle flew out of
the cave, coming directly at him. Joe fell to his knees again, but this time
in genuine genuflection, a victim of religious ecstasy. Jasper really was an
eagle, just like he said. “SCREAK, Screak, screak,” cried the eagle
as it flew over Joe’s back, then began to spiral upward toward the sun. “JASPER!” screamed Joe as he resumed his
prone position, stretching his arms and legs out in full supplication.
“Jasper, please come back.” |