Orpheus has had a blog, in one form or another, since he was in high-school. Due to some unpleasantness in our relationship after I first found said message-board on the world-wide-weberverse, I’ve promised never again to read it. This hasn’t been easy at times, but gets a little simpler the longer the policy survives. To help, I’ve replaced reading O’s blog with that of his ‘blogvater,’ Dr. Faustus (http://www.joelderfner.com/blog/)... This Faust is a fascinating specimen, indeed. He’s a gay, all-singing, all-dancing liberal arts genius. He’s super-cute, super-fit, teaches courses on Musical Theatre, a red-head, a bottom, writes musicals and books, and has a penchant for history and languages to boot. Add in the fact that he’s soon publishing a book of personal essays, and you have a guy who would, under normal circumstances, induce the vapors in little odd (not an editing mistake,) moi. However, *out of respect for his writing, his fiancee, and my lover, I hold myself in check. Really, though, if you haven’t before read ‘The Search for Love in Manhattan,’ get going. Joel is fucking funny.
The reason this all comes up today is mostly just coincidence. There was a note of extreme helplessness in Faustus’ post, today, preceded by an incendiary bout of frustration on topics political yesterday. The fact that he normally wields beautifully such a strong voice, but feels helpless to write in praise of Martin Luther King due to modern breakdowns in our political process was literally heartbreaking... I thought, when I saw the posts, that I hadn’t really felt this bad about someone else’s desperation in a long time. This got me thinking about Orpheus’ blog, as ‘The Search for Love...’ comprises my physical replacement for reading O. online... And I realized, the last time I sympathized so much with someone else’s feelings of frustration was when I read those heartbreaking words posted by my boyfriend so many months ago.
Aside from the humiliation that I felt, he was so alone back then, and scared. I was, for a good part of his period of unemployment after graduating, one of the only people that he hung out with. His best friend was studying abroad in Prague, and only the unreliable college-kids were left in town to take care of him. I couldn’t help feeling that I was dirty, horrible, and deserved what he’d written. I felt responsible, and that made me feel worse. When I confronted him on it, he apologized, but then it happened again. Now, I just don’t have the strength to read the blog, anymore. He still doesn’t hang out with his friends enough, and doesn’t like too many of the people I call friends. I just have to pretend that some small part of him isn’t still resentful of me, because he doesn’t have anybody to confide his frustrations to. And, really, if one’s not part of the solution, one’s part of the problem (thank you, Sartre), so I can’t help feeling a little responsible for the breakdowns that are making Faustus so down, too. I’ve got political acumen in spades, but very little drive to deal with people that have a will to power, who are almost to a one despicable human beings.
I did my part to attempt to cheer the dear Doktor, though I doubt that I really made an impact. As to O., I just have to stick to not reading him, and hope that he can sort things out. I love him so much. I hope he’s not still writing things like he used to write about me. But then, I vent here, too, so maybe it’s not all so bad. Here’s hoping I keep getting to worry about him for a long time... Just not like this. And here’s hoping you, Faustus, can see the hope coming at us all in the distance. You’re too damned fabulous to be upset over the near-expired presidency of an increasingly marginal idiot and the ineffectual flounderings of the congress currently his political prisoner!
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