The drama of the season continues to unfold. Picture a chicken fight, with each of the cocks crying about being the victim - and all the while sharpening their spurs. People will get hurt in this fight, but no one seems interested in resolving anything peacefully. I hear it over and over: It's not my issue. And: It's not your problem either. You made a clean break. Let them destroy each other.
It's so different from Ann Arbor, where one person's problem became everyone's problem. When M's drinking got out of control the whole Del Rio staged an intervention. When C's boyfriend gave her a black eye we went to the boyfriend's house that night, told him to pack his bags, and put him on a plane to London. When people fell we picked them up. I still remember the night Ricky - straight, tough, macho, sexy Ricky - kissed me, and told me that we were brothers ... and that he would kill or die for me. And that I would do the same for him.
But that's not how it's played here, not now. When we hear that D. is addicted to ice and is wasting away we mutter about the waste. When R. also starts smoking we don't intervene ... we just warn each other to keep a good distance in case he goes over the edge. We watch, we shake our heads, and we do nothing. It's not my issue.
I don't know what the difference is between today and yesterday. Is it a gay thing? - are we fulfilling the worst of the straight world's stereotypes? A big city thing?- that we don't recognize how interrelated we are? A class thing? - because I was still a working class boy in A2.
Or is it just another sign of the times?
I still believe in loyalty, in brotherhood, and in helping your fellow man. I'll stand by R, even if he turns out to be one of the protagonists. I'll advocate for peace, even though everyone seems set for a fight.
And then I'll get on a plane and go play in the Mediterranean.
Monday, September 12, 2005
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