What I Saw... What was Really There....
Oct. 10th, 2004 08:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mrdreamjeansBeing in NYC rarely, I seldom get to visit all of the places and sites that were part of my environment when I lived here twenty years ago. With a day off and no particular agenda after getting my suitcases from Henry and Geoff, I decided the day shouldn’t be wasted by being holed up in an apartment; so I headed Downtown on the #1 subway line to the Village, a place I haven’t visited in decades.
As I was walking down Christopher Street, I passed the Lucille Lortel Theatre. Twenty years ago I saw a production of the play “Cloud Nine” in that space, directed by Tommy Tune. Today, it was hosting an afternoon of new works. A bit further on, I cut across to Abington Square where I had the third of many temporary apartments in New York. I shared the space with another actor and left a couch behind there in 1983. As I looked upwards to the windows I knew were connected with that particular apartment, I wondered idly if Richard still lived there and if he still had my couch:) I’m not sure if either he, or the couch, exists any more.
Back to Christopher Street, I passed a spot that used to be the location of an apartment building where my friend Neil lived. Neil and his partner used to leave their curtains open while they were having sex, performing for, ummm...standing crowds... uh, voyeurs...well, actually anyone who wanted to watch. Now, it’s an expensive high-rise with lofts and a gym called Crunch on the bottom floor. Neil’s building is gone and so is Neil. I still correspond with his mother at Christmas and have since 1983. It keeps him alive in our hearts by staying connected.
I temporarily bypassed the bar, the Dug Out, and its Sunday Beer Bust or Bear Bust (which it was for me:) to head down to the water. What I was seeing in my memory, were crumbling warehouses with nooks and crannies where hot men were having clandestine encounters. In some places, you could look through the cracks in the boards of the floor through to the water. It was like the creation of a personal porn movie, where you were director, actor and audience in a derelict setting.... action taking place cloaked in mystery, in slow motion, amid shadows and light. I guess they should have called the old buildings “wear and tear houses”, but I found myself nostalgic for the tawdry romance of the places. The warehouses were torn down years ago; what I actually saw today was a pristine area of fountains, bike paths and small green areas along the water. Still cruisy, but in an entirely different way and not nearly such naughty fun.
After taking a few photos, I hiked back a couple of blocks to the Dug Out and attended their Beer Bust for Bears. The bar has exactly the same layout as when it was called something else years ago. Some of the denizens looked like they hadn’t left the bar since 1983 either. I have to say, and not just because the men there weren’t to my taste, that it was overall the most unattractive crowd I’ve seen in years...to be more accurate, the most worn-out looking group of men I’ve seen in a long time. I stayed just long enough to drink my $3 Diet Pepsi, but even that took too long. I left there depressed by a final image of a guy in his 60s with a comb-over, thick glasses, rough features, in a pair of grey sweatpants two sizes too small to emphasize his lack of underwear and overly generous endowment. The sweats were so tight and so revealing, you could tell the year of his bris.... I’m sure the large dick was his calling card then, probably is today, but it was my cue to exit street left.
Shopping for music at Colony Music, and eating a nice Mexican feast at Sonora, completed my afternoon and early evening activities. As I entered the subway station at 50th and Broadway, they made an announcement that the trains on the that line were out of order between 42nd Street and 96th Street, so everyone had to exit. The long, cold (it dropped 20 degrees in a two-hour period) walk home was brightened by an exchange of hellos with comedian Mario Cantone who I recognized on the street and who offered a greeting when I smiled in recognition. Unexpected....
I spoke with my Mom in the hospital and she is doing much better. She has decided to view the incident that led to her hospitalization as a good thing; she believes she will come out of the hospital with a better understanding of the challenges she will face with her health in the coming months and years. I am encouraged by her words and that decision. I thank the folks on LJ who have sent me their words of support and prayers. I really appreciate it. Now, it's on to reading up on your lives and seeing what The Muffin Man was up to in Las Vegas with hundreds of furry naked men:)
I’m in for the evening after my day of nostalgia for “what used to be”... the Village of 1982-85... and “what exists now”, a dull reality. In the time between 1982 and 1985, I lived in apartments at 70th and Columbus, 100th and Broadway, 15 Abington Square, 103rd and Broadway and 51st and First. During much of that time, my main home was aboard Holland America cruise ships. It seems like such a long time ago, and yet is as fresh in my memory, as if it were yesterday. Tomorrow begins Week Two of "Evita" rehearsals.
As I was walking down Christopher Street, I passed the Lucille Lortel Theatre. Twenty years ago I saw a production of the play “Cloud Nine” in that space, directed by Tommy Tune. Today, it was hosting an afternoon of new works. A bit further on, I cut across to Abington Square where I had the third of many temporary apartments in New York. I shared the space with another actor and left a couch behind there in 1983. As I looked upwards to the windows I knew were connected with that particular apartment, I wondered idly if Richard still lived there and if he still had my couch:) I’m not sure if either he, or the couch, exists any more.
Back to Christopher Street, I passed a spot that used to be the location of an apartment building where my friend Neil lived. Neil and his partner used to leave their curtains open while they were having sex, performing for, ummm...standing crowds... uh, voyeurs...well, actually anyone who wanted to watch. Now, it’s an expensive high-rise with lofts and a gym called Crunch on the bottom floor. Neil’s building is gone and so is Neil. I still correspond with his mother at Christmas and have since 1983. It keeps him alive in our hearts by staying connected.
I temporarily bypassed the bar, the Dug Out, and its Sunday Beer Bust or Bear Bust (which it was for me:) to head down to the water. What I was seeing in my memory, were crumbling warehouses with nooks and crannies where hot men were having clandestine encounters. In some places, you could look through the cracks in the boards of the floor through to the water. It was like the creation of a personal porn movie, where you were director, actor and audience in a derelict setting.... action taking place cloaked in mystery, in slow motion, amid shadows and light. I guess they should have called the old buildings “wear and tear houses”, but I found myself nostalgic for the tawdry romance of the places. The warehouses were torn down years ago; what I actually saw today was a pristine area of fountains, bike paths and small green areas along the water. Still cruisy, but in an entirely different way and not nearly such naughty fun.
After taking a few photos, I hiked back a couple of blocks to the Dug Out and attended their Beer Bust for Bears. The bar has exactly the same layout as when it was called something else years ago. Some of the denizens looked like they hadn’t left the bar since 1983 either. I have to say, and not just because the men there weren’t to my taste, that it was overall the most unattractive crowd I’ve seen in years...to be more accurate, the most worn-out looking group of men I’ve seen in a long time. I stayed just long enough to drink my $3 Diet Pepsi, but even that took too long. I left there depressed by a final image of a guy in his 60s with a comb-over, thick glasses, rough features, in a pair of grey sweatpants two sizes too small to emphasize his lack of underwear and overly generous endowment. The sweats were so tight and so revealing, you could tell the year of his bris.... I’m sure the large dick was his calling card then, probably is today, but it was my cue to exit street left.
Shopping for music at Colony Music, and eating a nice Mexican feast at Sonora, completed my afternoon and early evening activities. As I entered the subway station at 50th and Broadway, they made an announcement that the trains on the that line were out of order between 42nd Street and 96th Street, so everyone had to exit. The long, cold (it dropped 20 degrees in a two-hour period) walk home was brightened by an exchange of hellos with comedian Mario Cantone who I recognized on the street and who offered a greeting when I smiled in recognition. Unexpected....
I spoke with my Mom in the hospital and she is doing much better. She has decided to view the incident that led to her hospitalization as a good thing; she believes she will come out of the hospital with a better understanding of the challenges she will face with her health in the coming months and years. I am encouraged by her words and that decision. I thank the folks on LJ who have sent me their words of support and prayers. I really appreciate it. Now, it's on to reading up on your lives and seeing what The Muffin Man was up to in Las Vegas with hundreds of furry naked men:)
I’m in for the evening after my day of nostalgia for “what used to be”... the Village of 1982-85... and “what exists now”, a dull reality. In the time between 1982 and 1985, I lived in apartments at 70th and Columbus, 100th and Broadway, 15 Abington Square, 103rd and Broadway and 51st and First. During much of that time, my main home was aboard Holland America cruise ships. It seems like such a long time ago, and yet is as fresh in my memory, as if it were yesterday. Tomorrow begins Week Two of "Evita" rehearsals.
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