I’m learning fast that when I don’t hear from Bruce, it either means he’s sending emails to his rabid fans around the world or…he’s working out some "frisky" business. On Valentine’s Day, my phone was suspiciously quiet for a few hours, explained later due to Bruce getting laid. ("First time I’ve been laid on Valentine’s Day in America in THREE YEARS," he crowed…) Meanwhile, I was hanging out with some friends before departing for San Francisco at my home away from home.
"Thingking of You"
Bruce flies from LA to SF and I drive solo, making the 385 mile journey in just over 5 hours. On the way, I rediscover "Lost Somewhere Between The Earth and My Home," the first album by the now defunct LA band, The Geraldine Fibbers, led by one of my favorite musicians, Carla Bozulich. The album is a lush mix of west coast punk, Southern lullaby, fable & fantasy, and white trash love songs. And Carla’s voice — that thick, deep, sensual voice… the miles flew by as I karaoked my way over the Grapevine and up Interstate 5 through a whole lot of… agricultural land mass.
Pea Soup Andersens. A pit stop in Santa Nella (Santa Middle of Nowhere) for their Traveler’s Special… a sandwich and unlimited quantities of their famous Split Pea Soup.
It’s always nice to arrive in San Francisco, since you can’t deny that it’s a good looking city, especially crossing the Bay Bridge. I have just about an hour to unload my stuff at the new home of my good friends, Joey and Ian, creators of the clothing line, Nice Collective (www.nicecollective.com) before I’m to retrieve Bruce from where he’s staying to take him to his reading. (After spending a few non-stop days with him, I had began to feel a little separation anxiety during my solo drive. I considered that this was borderline disgusting, needy and embarrassing, so I refused to call him ("just to check in") while I was driving north. Instead…I waited for him to call me, which he did, just as I was about half way to San Francisco…"Daaaarling – how are you? I miss you. Are you here??" I laughed and suggested that he was more concerned that I had his luggage in my car, holding his wardrobe hostage until my arrival. "No, I miss you, darling," he assured me, "but you DO have my clean shirts!")
Joey and I collect Bruce and we arrive in The Castro about 30 minutes before his reading at A Different Light. Bruce nearly throws himself out of my car to light a cigarette, running into traffic to cross the street as he hollers, "Come on, boys, we need a drink before the reading. My treat!!" We step into one of the many homo-clone bars of The Castro (I think it’s called The Bar) where the dj is playing The Smiths and John Waters’ "Polyester" plays on the video screens. Bruce guzzles back a mason jar of Jameson’s whiskey before running out the door to the bookstore to light another cigarette. "Come on, we have to go!"
Acclaimed writer Robert Gluck (there should be an umlaut over the "u" in Gluck but I can’t find it at the moment — "Jack the Modernist," "Denny Smith," and more), a longtime friend of Bruce’s who I had shot last year for Butt Magazine, gives Bruce a warm introduction, before Bruce reads a passage from "The Romanian" to a crowd of about 50 people.
There’s a certain frisky buzz in and around the bookstore as Bruce finishes up the reading. He signs books and a couple of fans linger close by. My friend Linda Hughes, curator of Red Ink Studios, shows up and introduces me to her super-cool new fiance, Eric. We all go back to Robert Gluck’s house, where there’s a nice get-together in honor of Bruce. Again, there was something kinda fizzy and homo-vescent in the air, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
Later on, I happen to check out Craig’s List for San Francisco. Craig’s List is a city by city website where you can find a new job, a new apartment, catch a ride, sell your old shit, etc. but by and large, people use it to find each other for a variety of purposes, many of them sexual (I have heard from close friends.). I go on the "missed connections" part of the Personals and type "bruce" into the search window. And what do you know….?
Sieze the day! Sieze the day! I, of course, forward this to Bruce immediately, who promptly writes to the poster of the message, thrilled that he was somehow part of this potential sexcapade. Not to burst Bruce’s bubble, but I think the original poster’s motivation had more to do with the delicious roasted pork that was served at the party. Mmm. Pork.
DINO DINCO
PERVIN AND SWERVIN THROUGH THE 415
