Year in review #2

A few times this past year I was faced with a question that felt like something frothy-toothed and unsettling standing over me. It even happened on a few dates I went on. This one time I got into it pretty hot and heavy with a thirty- something African-American woman. Jeezus, she smelled good too. Like a flower van gone by at slow speed with the windows open. Something(s) I said made her want to put her head down and scroll vigorously through her phone to find the site that proved lynchings still took place in New York.

New York?

Blue that night, and on some other dates too, I was faced with this snarly question: does what I have to say even matter? Because after all, the very existence of Things Men Carry is premised on man’s innate desire to stay relevant. Here I was a few times this past year, a stuck 50-something wondering should I just put my head down for the remainder and shut the fuck up.

This question barged in to my consciousness yet again with my son. It goes back to him coming out the movie theater with a totally different perspective than mine.

“That was a good movie, Dad.”

Thor.

“I’m glad you liked it, Bud.”

Jeezus another movie where all the boxes get checked off.

In this latest Thor, his sidekick, who is made of boulders, turns out gay in the end. Now, from just a strict storytelling standpoint, if I had done this in grad school with my short stories, my prof would’ve–pardon the bung reference here–ripped me a new ass. Maybe just maybe the writer of the movie did sprinkle in clues throughout the movie that I missed, but the movie sucked and I’m not subjecting myself to it again. The storytelling point is that nothing until that point leads the audience into thinking and believing that Thor’s sidekick was gay. This character trait was, to use a term I heard over and over in workshop, “unearned.” Thrown in the end lazily and sloppily to–I’ve come to calling it checking off a box.

My son not so much. “That was a good movie, Dad.”

Which gets me thinking about something my interlocutor in our last conversation, David, mentions:

I certainly have my perspectives, largely shaped by the ideal (yes, it’s an ideal, which by definition is an unattainable state to which we should always work to achieve) that we’re all in this together and should try to balance ‘individual liberty’ with ‘the common good’. All the issues you rage about come down to that basic debate, and how we should scale each one reasonably. Guns? Vaccinations? Marriage? A person’s right to choose (whether abortion, a vaccination, or one’s physical reflection of sexual identity.)

Maybe, just maybe, I think, it’s starting to happen. If my son is any indication. Shit, he liked Thor, checked boxes and all.

Maybe I do need to shut up. Stop trying to be an important voice or counter voice all in the name of staying relevant and wanting to impart what I carry. As if what I carry is somehow or other significant, seminal, groundbreaking, or wise.

I guess if I were to rebut my own self here and thus keep at this Things Men Carry a while longer, I would say just a few things in no particular order:

We are relevant. Look!

David, if you’re still here, the whole point of the Conversations segment in Things Men Carry was for us to throw informed haymakers at each other and hug it out in the end. Like two good pugilists. Like Ice Man and Maverick. Lots of shit talking up in the air, but in the end, what? Nothing but mutual respect for each other. That’s the point, homie. I’ll go more into why I chose this feisty route in some other piece–Spoiler Alert: it’s to change hearts and minds that need changing–but for now suffice to say you were very short on rebuttal and heavy on platitudes and I’m a little disappointed. Accuse me of rage and being a rabid Fox News watcher, really? That’s about as lazy as it gets.

And nothing could be further from the truth, homie, you’ll see. I’ve plenty to say to my homies on my right if you’ll stick around.

So yeah, I think there’s still space among men for something like our Conversations. Plenty to talk about, still.

What else?

Well, shit, it would appear that some–readers, friends, contributors–have come and gone this past year. I guess my only real response is, and can be, Were we ever that close in the first place, then?

Check it out, though, I’m still on talking terms with David. At least so far. He hasn’t read this yet, though. Hopefully, though, we’re gonna talk fiddle fig trees soon, and maybe even have a leggier, much more attractive third join us. Maybe even some other foppish tips too. Gay guys know how to dress themselves and their homes better than anyone.

Check it out check it out: the “person” designing what I hope will be my last logo idea, the one I finally give the green light to, couldn’t be more opposite me in socio-politics. She’s read my stuff, she disagrees with it, she’s a firm they/them, and still, in spite of all that, they have agreed to do my logo.

We’re doing something pretty balanced around here, I promise. Homies to my right, get ready.

Oh, and when I’m not airing out my daddy issues and other dirty laundry, or duking it out with a gay man, there’s other stuff happening around here, too. The way a legit men’s magazine is supposed to. I have a money guy. Hell, a money guy, damnit! I’ll introduce him to you very soon

Ron, our resident chef, is gonna talk about how to cook for a group or he might pull a Louie and do something completely different. Who am I to come between an artist and his muse? Whatever he delivers, it’s gonna be good, and, shit, right about now ain’t it time to eat?

This is who we truly are, gentlemen. We live and reside here–our inner, most visceral selves, more than we do our outer selves. Why not continue, then, to have a place for that true voice to come out and play? The more irreverent the better, but always always always informed.

Last call?