Just for Me (?)

I must admit I live a fabulous life. Of course, I would never in a million years admit to it being otherwise – having flitted off to Europe to pursue my dreams, no strings attached. Tonight I am going to an experimental opera in a subway station and then an all-night party at a 100 year old ball house where it girls and it boys learn how to do a proper Viennese waltz from East German ladies who have been AROUND. Why, at this very second the melted buttery afternoon sun is streaming into the window of my apartment –casting exquisite shadows from the crown moldings onto the unfinished parquet floor. It is one of those Cecil B. DeMille moments where the clouds part and you find yourself the recipient of a shaft of light that seems to indicate that you have been given some divine acknowledgement for just being yourself - when it is really only chance and the lady on the floor below – the one with the noisy cat and the Schlager music at 3 AM probably feels the exact same way because the shaft of light is shining on her too. Still, it is nice to have those moments – those unexpected breaks in the weather…a turning of the dial to a more pleasant frequency.

Yes, I do have a pretty fabulous life – but in gay terms, it is only entry level fabulousness.I came to this realization over tea with my friend Michael. I had just gotten my diplomatic passport because I was about to be sent on assignment to Rome. We were both very excited because now I had something really fantastic to tell people at parties. What did it matter that I was really only going over for 6 weeks to feed paper into a scanner? Since when does a good story have to be burdened with something as ridiculous as the truth? I was finally fabulous and this would have to be acknowledged. Of course, Michael and I both came to the conclusion that it would have been far more fabulous had I been an ambassador or something – someone with a retinue and a car and all sorts of decorations. Then, every knee would bend and all would be forced to recognize the absolute supremacy of my existence. There would be much plotting of my downfall of course, but I would persevere and overcome with that steely grace that is my trademark.

They don’t call us queens for nothing.

In the gay world, fabulousness must be maintained at all costs: even if your life is going down the toilet, you must present well. For example, a cramped bachelor apartment is a charming pied-à-terre. Old clothes are called vintage and skipping dinner because you can’t afford it is slimming down for spring. One must never, EVER admit to the banality of one’s existence, much less the oppression and ridicule one must often overcome to get on with it. To do so would admit some sort of defeat, some tacit acknowledgement that the forces that have tried to keep you contained - to keep you invisible have won, or at least gained ground. My dear, this is not DONE: Not only must you have a stiff upper lip, but the makeup must be perfectly applied.

And while all this social corseting is very impressive, resulting as it does in an entire subculture of perfectly turned out people who thrive on artifice and dreams, it can be exhausting because you can see the gears working: it takes a lot of thought to upgrade your life on a constant basis. That being said, a night out in one of the gay clubs of Berlin can be a great deal of fun, as long as you don’t scratch the surface and expect anything real. But who expects reality after dark?

The other night I went for a drink with some fellow expat friends at a pub over in East Berlin. I was telling them – as I have told you - that I had a fabulous life…but that it would probably be more fabulous if I took a private plane with Bjork or something.

Here is what followed:

Jack

Bjork? ….Oh God – I know people who PARTY with Bjork…she is crazy – really, she should be committed. I went to a club with her in Ankara once that was too INSANE to believe. Oh Ben, you’re sweet – meet Robert – he’s sweet too and from New York… we hooked up in Pyongyang when I was on assignment for Lonely Planet…this was of course before I met my husband and we moved to Istanbul (the food is to DIE FOR). Oh, how I love the Turks – such little anarchists. Not like the horrible rule-bound Germans…but really, are the French any better? The European Union needs a collective FUCK, if I do say so myself. Now Ben…is it? Ben – why are you in Berlin? You’re an opera singer? Oh faaaabulous! You must meat Adonis…yes that’s his real name – he is a singer too – from Manila. Such funny names they have down there….I think his mom’s name is Conception or something. God – that’s like naming your daughter Impregnate or something. How bizarre! Folker…oh FOLLKER…where’s Adonis? Very funny…no Folker, I don’t think you’re that cute. -What’s that? Adonis is in Milan? Now Ben, Adonis is a fabulous countertenor and he is dating a conductor from Lithuania...they just bought a house in Crete. Have you been to Crete? No? You MUST go. I would go, but my husband is in Iceland for a fashion shoot and I am just PINING for him. Oh and then of course there’s Guinevere - a singer as well, but she is doing her PhD at Columbia on feminist undertones in modern German opera. Folker….oh FOLLLLKER…does Guinivere have a Fulbright? Thought so…very smart….you would never guess she comes from Kentucky….what’s that? Where do I come from? Kansas. Can you believe it? Well, we all must come from somewhere. I know I talk with a European accent...it must be because I’ve lived EVERYWHERE…., I went to school in Munich, and then I lived in Japan for a while …and then I moved in with a bunch of Jewish lesbians in Berkley. We are no longer on speaking terms - they think I’m Anti Semitic because I don’t worship Susan Sontag. Do you want a drink? Oh, just try some of my champagne…entre nous I know it looks ridiculous, but it really does taste better when you drink it from the bottle with a straw… Folker.oh FOLLLKER – get Ben a straw. Isn’t this fun?

Dante

Oh GUINIVERE– you really are the queen lesbian bee of the party. And you know there can only be one – queen, that is. I am intensely jealous! But you are such an ENLIGHTENED despot…rather like Joseph II of Austria – benevolent yet firm and in control. And isn’t that just what one needs in a man? What’s that? Of course I know you couldn’t care less, but you’re hanging out with a bunch of queers so could you just PRETEND to look interested? Folker…oh FOLLLLKER! Where’s Adonis? Milan? I thought they already went to Crete. One can never keep track, coming and going....like my last trick! Well, I should be going myself – I have to travel to San Fran at the ass-crack of dawn and I haven’t even BEGUN to think of what to pack. No – I won’t be back next week… I’ve decided to take a few days off after the conference….Sergio and I are renting a car and driving to Napa. But I’ll be back in December after I meet with my thesis advisor at Stanford. Come to think of it, next week might be a bit slow…I’ll be away of course…. Bryce is going to Moscow for work…and Sebastian will be in New York at his art opening…well Ben, it has been a pleasure…but do tell me, why are you drinking champagne with a straw?

Seamus

What am I doing in Berlin? What aren’t I doing in Berlin – that’s the question you should be asking! No – the question that you SHOULD be asking is WHO aren’t I doing in Berlin. My God! This place makes Sodom look like North Dakota. Do I own a boutique? How flattering – you are so charming…Ben, is it? No, nothing as glamorous as that – although one does have dreams. I am a translator and interpreter….from Polish to German and Russian to German…and German to Czech, and Czech to English. I work on contract with Krupp, Siemens….all of those lovely companies who built tanks during the war…and you? You’re a singer! Have you met Guinevere? You have? She’s on a Fulbright…very smart – although I can’t for the life of me understand what she’s writing about. How about Adonis? He’s in MILAN you say? He does get AROUND, that boy. Well you know what they say - to succeed in the opera business you have to get under good conductor. Ben, darling - lovely to meet you – we MUST do this again some time….and champagne with a straw…very daring – you’re BAD aren’t you… don’t try to admit you’re not! Tschussi!

I have no idea if anything my friends told me was real – or rather, at which point the reality stopped and the embellishment began. It did not matter because I was entertained and caught up in the froth of it all. But I had, at that very moment, the overwhelming desire to race home and sit in silence. In the middle of the most exciting city in the world, I longed for solitude and for something that I could say unequivocally was real. Silence is real – it does not pretend to be anything more than it is. It is the absence of embellishment – it is the place from which you can build a firm foundation. It is in and of itself complete. It is the ending of things, and it is the beginning of things.


In this most exciting city in the world, I longed for a new beginning of things - one which was based in something as pure and complete as silence; based on the knowledge that I am in and of myself complete, a firm foundation – no need for embellishment.

Remember how I said that it was sunny? It isn’t. It is actually quite grey….and I am actually not going out tonight. Tonight I will sit in quietness and read a book, or really enjoy eating that pear I bought the other day… it must be ripe by now – although one can’t rush these things. I did, however, go to an opera in a subway station the other day, which was quite interesting...and from time to time, when the sun shines, I think it is just for me. But of course it does not shine just for me, and I think that is the lesson in all of this.

No need for embellishment.