Beginning of Chapter Two

I should have posted this part first, since it leads into what I posted, yesterday. It's where Adam describes the town he lives in and a bit of the area's social setup. I need to update the map, but it's close...

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Our home was in Fairview, east from Seattle up into the Cascades. A resort town nestled along a low curving valley of rolling land caught between foothills leading to sharp mountains thick with trees. Stutelec Creek coursed along the side of a two-lane avenue called The 39 and around an awkward hill in the center of town. It was the town's connection to Interstate 90, from the south. To the east it twisted around more foothills before finally joining a road that led to North Bend, the only sizeable town close by.

Fairview was compartmentalized into four neighborhoods. Arriving on the 39, first you would reach WestTown, an older area of well-maintained antique shops, finer clothing stores, better restaurants, and even the requisite McDonald's. 

Next to it was NorthTown, built up a hill to the north where there were finer houses, chalets and newer structures along narrow winding roads. Many had become second homes for weekenders from Seattle, Bellevue, Tacoma and even Olympia.

The 39 continued around a tall hill past a small grocer, a hardware store, and the sheriff's office to a pair of lodges--Tomika and Tidwika, both to the north of the road and both with wide ski runs.

Tomika was the first to come into view and was an oh-so-very-cool structure of black glass, shiny steel roofing and painted concrete. It was one of a chain of resorts stretching from the Rockies into the Cascades, which the locals disparaged it as McTomika and The Outlet Resort, though they did not refuse the money its patrons brought in. 

Past it was Tidwika Lodge, a rambling log cabin structure with massive beams, clear windows, and stone chimneys jutting through shingled roofing. In comparison, it cast off a supremely comfortable, almost homey feeling.

Between them was an antiquated public ski lift, with more than sufficient parking about, and all were framed by carefully cultivated packs of towering pines and evergreens. The one disadvantage for Tomika was that a one-time Denny’s that had been renamed Charlie’s and a former motel, now called The Shamir's Apartments, partially hid its driveway entrance. 

Across from all of this were an Episcopal church, a couple of strip centers with trinket and nick-knack shops, a grocery store, a gas station, and two small roads leading to a couple of residential areas.

One road was to a small low flat stretch of land that was connected with The 39 by a single street, South Road. It crossed Stutelec Creek and trailed behind that Episcopal Church. This area was nothing but older cheaply built homes and a trailer park. Here the people who cleaned the homes and resorts, and who worked the restaurants, shops and gas stations, eked out just enough of a living to consider themselves human. Derisively referred to as SouthTown, Stutelec and Cathalmet Creeks joined close by it, making the area prone to flooding, in the spring.

Just past the shops and gas station was Clapperton Drive, named after a one-time lodge up a sharp hill that overlooked the SouthTown. It led to an area of new holiday homes on low hills known as The Pink Forest, because many gay men owned them and lived there. Cathalmet Creek curved around them, offering a natural barrier to the SouthTown as it then rushed behind the shops and on down to connect with Snoqualmie River.

It was Dair’s mother, Marion, who owned Tidwika and for whom I worked...and I very much liked her. She was almost as tall as Dair and solid, like him, but in a way that was feminine and fun. Her face was round, not smoothly formed as his was, but her eyes were even more joyous and her smile as bright. Photos I saw of his father, with his long, chiseled face and narrow eyes, made me glad it was she he took after. If he followed her physical path, he would develop into a lovely old man. 

Of course, none of this I knew when first I met him. He was only the absent son of my employer. The younger of her two boys, the elder of whom managed Tomika, about which the less said the better.

Adam meets Dair...

This is from chapter two, where Adam tells of working for Dair's mother at Tidwika Ski Lodge...

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The season was over and I was replacing warped siding along Tidwika’s eastern base, and Dair drove up in an ancient Volvo station wagon that was very well-kept. He parked next to the steps leading to the main entrance then hopped out. I glanced over and thought him nice-enough looking, and returned to my work. 

Though I should add, the moment I saw him I knew he was family, as we were now saying. 

What an elegant day it was. The sun bright as trees whispered their joy at how spring had begun to embrace them. I had worked up a sweat and removed my shirt...and it is without ego I say, as already once noted, my form was well-sculpted. I also add my face had a certain beauty that men often found inviting. Dark eyes. Dark hair. A Gallic nose that was straight but not so very pronounced. I was used to being noticed and looked upon. 

Only Dair did not even glance my way. Which, to my surprise, perturbed me. 

My first thought? He was being dismissive. You are a mere laborer and I am of a station higher than you, sort of thing. 

It snuck into my thoughts, unexpectedly, and it struck me as odd that I would suddenly wonder why I had not received what was a rather silly reassurance to soothe my ego. Immediately, I saw how ridiculous it was and gave a huff at my shallowness. 

Then from within the lodge I heard Marion call, “About time you showed up. Were you gonna stay in Seattle forever?” 

By my guess, she was at the top of the main staircase, by her office, perhaps even coming down them. This made me smile. She would never be known as a quiet person. 

“Had to get Egie fixed up,” he called back. “She’s been in storage too long.” 

“Oh, Dair, look at all the weight you lost. Are you hungry? I’ll have Milton work up something.” 

I could not hear his response, only her saying, “You’re staying here, right? Not your brother’s?” 

At this he laughed and burst out with, “Uh, no! I’ll be in dad’s place.” 

“Are you crazy? It hasn’t been cleaned out since the last guests left. The heat’s not on, anymore, and the roof...” 

“Mom, mom, mom, I haven’t exactly been doin' the Four Seasons...” 

“If you tell me you went backpacking in the Balkans, I’ll kill you.” 

He laughed, again. Which made me smile. I could remember no one in my family having such joy in their laughter. Nor anyone I had been with, since. And a gentle haiku I’d once read drifted into my thoughts: 

The cool crackling sound

Of laughter invokes dark clouds

Thundering pleasure.

That, alone, made me wish to meet him.

A few hours later, I did. Marion brought him onto the rear deck and called me up to join them...and I realized he had not ignored me, when he first arrived; he simply had not seen me. His one focus at that moment had been to greet his mother, and as I grew to know him I learned he possessed the ability to shut out anything extraneous to that. 

The sun was almost behind the mountains and the chill was greater, so we had hot tea and croissants, which I found very enjoyable. Working at Tidwika, I was allowed to partake of all their restaurant offered but it was simple servings like this that I found most enjoyable. 

I still did not regard his appearance as exceptional. He carried a bland, rugged, Anglo-American aura like a cowboy or lumberjack. Plaid shirt over a worn undershirt with hair peeking over its collar. Much-faded jeans. Laced up boots. Bandana rolled around his neck. A frayed Mariners cap set backward on his head. He was stockier than I, even then, so if he had lost much weight then he must have been chubby. Very much a bear cub. Also, he had recently removed a beard, for his cheeks were shining red while his chin was two shades lighter. 

But his eyes...bright, clear and blue, dancing and open to me. Lines of laughter drifting from them. The hint of a smile working across simple but elegant lips. All of it spoke of an innocence and honesty I had never seen, before, and seemed to promise happiness... 

And I found myself thinking, He is almost beautiful. 

Finally, he glanced me over in the way I was used to. I had pulled my shirt back on but it was unbuttoned and my skin still gleamed with sweat, even in the chill. My muscles were also pumped from the heavy labor. So...finally my ego was fed...and to my surprise, it saddened me, a little. 

Because now I knew, even then, I could have him, if I’d wanted. 

If I wanted? 

No, Adam, no. Now is not the time for word games or childish reticence. I knew even then he would be mine. I knew even then I could use him to benefit myself. He would not be the first I had done that to. And the more we spoke during those first moments, the more I knew it would be so...so...so easy to take from him anything I wanted. 

And...to my eternal regret...that is exactly what I did.

Post-election malaise...

 The Blue Wave crashed over the GOPedophiles, yesterday, and the next couple of months will be interesting, to say the least. The current Congress is in power till just after the first of the year...so has nearly two months to fuck things up. And I would not be surprised if they get truly vicious with it.

But it's pretty much set. Mississippi and Alaska are too close to call, yet, and will probably go through recounts. Some other tight races have the Red Party wanting recounts while the Blues are being cool.

Pundits are suggesting this is an extinction event for the Republicans, though I doubt it. Hate runs too deep in those people and is harder to get rid of than cockroaches...as we are already beginning to see. Oh, they're blaming anyone they can, like Felon47 and the disastrous war in Iran, but I have yet to see anyone acknowledge it was their stupid one-note culture wars to deflect from inflation and the obvious corruption in the administration that really hurt them.

Democrats are already planning to elect two of the most weaselly members to lead, as well...Chuck Schumer, who thinks writing a strongly worded letter means something important, and Hakeem Jeffries, who loves the sound of his own voice lecturing the other side more than actually doing anything about them. So I'm not sure anything serious will happen, yet.

Oh, there's talk of subpoenas and investigations, but I'm not convinced this is anything more than posturing by those two and a couple of their sycophants. I hope I'm wrong, but my gut says wait and see.

At least I'll be going into the UK on a high note.

Too rushed...

A packing job I thought had been postponed till January suddenly exploded to life, this morning, and now I'm off to London on Sunday. Startled the hell out of me. I'll be gone a week. And then two weeks later I'm off for Hong Kong. Zoom-zoom.

But it meant rushing things, so I got a bit sloppy in my scheduling and wound up getting screwed over by a company that was really sneaky.

In order to travel to the UK from the US, now, you have to have an ETA -- an Electronic Travel Authorization that gets linked to your passport and is good for 2 years. I looked online for who to submit it through and the organization that I connected with sure seemed like it was part of England's government, but it wasn't. 

They charged me nearly $125 for them to do the form, when it would have cost me nothing had I connected with the correct agency. But when I mentioned it to some coworkers, they were shocked...and the company refused to cancel the application and refund the money. At least I already have the ETA.

This is the first time I've dealt with needing one so I plead ignorance, in this case. Live and learn, right? Take it off on my taxes.

Next I set up a hotel room by Heathrow Airport for 2 nights, thinking I was doing it through the hotel's website. I wasn't. Again, it was a third party...and they pre-charged my card for the two nights.

My one saving grace is I booked it as cancellable so could have just dumped it...but then I'd have had to deal with setting it up, again, and the final cost was the same, so since I'm leaving so quickly...I just let it slide.

But I don't like being rushed into having to set up travel. I drop into this mood of just get it done and on occasion it bites me in the ass.

At least I learn from these mistake, somewhat. I don't book non-refundable anything, anymore, thanks to getting screwed over by a Holiday Inn in Lisbon...and by having American Airlines steal $400 from me, once. But it's getting harder and harder to catch out those nasty little sneaks running around trying to mess with you.

Another reason not to rush.

Just to be clear...

Adam is not going to be a sad dead faggot. I idicate that in the very first chapter. He's happy and in love when he dies, and his only regret is that he can no longer share his love with Dair. He will even do what he can from his new existence to help Dair finally move on with his life.

You see, Adam dies a hero. He saves all but one girl in his skiing class from an avalanche, and she is, in fact, the reason he's killed by it. She doesn't understand the danger and thinks she can outrun it. He tries to catch up to her...and they both die.

That plays into the story, later, when another character lies about what happened and Dair goes berserk. Yes, there is sadness in the story regarding Adam's death. But him being gay has nothing to do with it. The situation is more tragic in that his life is cut off when he's only 25.

If anything, Adam's willingness to live his life on his own terms, and refusal to be apologetic about having done porn and been a sex worker, is admirable. Or, at least, I intend to make it so. It provided him a living when many less-well-paying avenues were denied to him. And how he works within it shows he's intelligent with it. 

He is aware it can be a trap, and sees other performers get beaten down by the hypocrisy from society about it being something shameful. Falling into drugs and other corruption. But as he says, "You do what you must to live. Would you shame a lioness for taking down an injured gazelle when her only thought is to feed her pride?"

His entire life is a rebuke against the two-faced attitude so many have about erotica, and it drives a few people crazy. But he doesn't care. Nor does Dair. They had a pure love and wanted only to be left alone to live it. Now Dair needs to rejoin his life and fine new love...and reconnect with his art.

Still I have to wonder...am I still being a bit two-faced, myself, about this and my attitude about sad dead faggots? Because what happens to Adam is sad...

Thick head unthickened...

I finally understand why I was having such trouble with The Murder of a Quiet Man. Simon was going to wind up a sad dead faggot...and I hate that in all forms. Movies. Books. Music. TV. Plays. Any form of entertainment. That or being a killer queer. And I was trying like hell to ignore that reality because...

Shit, because I don't really know why. I'd blinded myself to that reality of it. I've read books that have gay men and women killing themselves or others because they can't handle life in a disparaging society...or they're self-loathing...or someone kills them because they are self-loathing...and it always rankles me.

Yet here I was writing one just like it. How fucking ridiculous of me.

What kicked the blinders off was seeing the uproar over a British series called Tip Toe. I started getting ads for it on Facebook, like crazy, focused on the lead being Alan Cumming, an older gay man who runs or owns a gay bar in Manchester and is having issues with his straight neighbor...and something about it put me off.

I don't know why. I didn't know much more about it than that. And I would have had to sign up for Starz to get it, so that wasn't going to happen. But the ads kept coming and snippets of scenes and my wariness grew to where I needed to find out more about it. Because I had to know if there was going to be somebody dead in that thing.

Finally, I tracked down a treatment for the series...and sure enough, it's got a murdered faggot at its center. Lynched by a mob in Manchester. Which angered me.

So for certain I was not going to watch the damned thing...but that got me to thinking and realizing I was going to do that to Simon. He's an old gay man who refuses to back down and winds up in a grave in the woods. And I was trying to find some way to work it out so it wasn't the same fucking thing. Which was stupid.

Oh, God, sometimes I can't believe how myopic I can be...

Slow motion...

I feel like I'm a bit underwater, here, because I'm not pushing this draft to come together too quickly. I can see the surface and head towards it, but without the urgency to breathe, yet.

I want it to build naturally and steadily, and considering all that I have already written, completely. So I may not have this ready to even begin to consider publishing it for another year.

Which might be pessimistic of me. I have the characters set. The locations. The basic structure. I'm adjusting the time period, a bit, and will be including another couple of characters, but overall it's in solid shape. It's just too...well, too busy.

And by busy I mean lots of info and details that are neither important nor interesting. Conversations that help me clarify the characters and situations in my head but add nothing to the story and won't be missed if removed.

I am also working in more of Adam's references to various poets he loves...and some of his own poetry. Like...

Into my room, came he.

The silence as his key.

No dream allowed, you see,

Or life still said to be...

My own

That one just sort of popped up out of nowhere. I know it refers to his time in a foster home where he had his own room but was used by older men, in it.

I'm also a bit uncertain as to how to handle the sexual molestation of underage boys in this. It's important to explain Adam's development and he would not shy away from discussing it, but I have to be wary of laws against it being too graphically discussed. Maybe I should talk to an attorney.

Guess we'll see how that goes...

Jenga writing...

While working on DW I decided to add more to the beginning of the story--when Dair and Adam first meet...and where. First, I had Adam describe the town and then had him working at Dair's mother's lodge when Dair returns from living in Europe for three years.

Adam's shirtless, gleaming with sweat from replacing some siding on the building, and knows he looks damn good. He also knows the second he sees Dair that he's gay. But to his surprise, Dair pays him zero attention. No gaze of appreciation or reaction. Which irritates Adam...to his surprise.

Then Marion introduces them and Adam realizes Dair wasn't ignoring him; he was just so focused on seeing his mother, again, he had blinders on. And Adam understands he could manipulate Dair into giving him anything...and plans to do so.

Which segues into him revealing what his life had been like and how he has become the type of person who uses others to take care of himself.

It made so much sense to do it this way, I'm embarrassed I didn't think of it earlier.

I'm using a gay porn star, Jarec Wentworth, as my image for Adam. Partly because he's attractive but mainly because of a certain wariness in his eyes. He's also the near opposite of Derrick Davenport, whose image I'm using for Dair. Not just in looks but in feel and attitude.

Now comes the fun part, trimming down Adam's story about how he became a sex worker...something he still does, even while working for Marion.

You never know where ideas come from...

Monday I was driving around the Kitsap Peninsula looking for a seafood restaurant when I went down a side road that led nowhere...until I saw this tree loaded with moss and ivy shooting straight up from a mass of bushes and shrubs.

It almost seemed magical. So I stopped and took some photos of it all...none of which really do justice to it...and what hit me was how Dair would love to see it.

He's at home in mountains of Western Washington. The thick masses of trees and the back roads. Leaves changing colors and blanketing the ground. Snow soon coming to soften everything, even if it's via a blizzard. It's where he grew up and became who he is...

Became someone Adam could come to love and trust and want to protect. Not a man who's perfect, but who is decent.

Adam is not, at first. He knows the world too damned well. Knows how people can be...and often are. And he has a journey to undertake, both in this life and the next.

That's when I finally realized that telling the story gives the the title a secondary meaning.

Dair will still build a window for his grandfather's church. But there is also the window Adam will now find into Dair's heart and soul, before he dies. Which will lead him back to being human.

He had become something feral and selfish, thanks to how he was treated by others. And he starts out to misuse Dair's trust and decency...but slowly finds that he cannot betray them. It won't be a conscious decision on his part. It's just one that will happen, and his mind will take a bit of time to catch up to his new understanding.

So today I dug through the folder I have of past drafts, information, images and ideas. Streamlined it down to a manageable level. I still have more to go through, but it's begun to make sense to me. Thanks in no small part fto finding Dair's tree...

If that makes sense.

"Dair's Window" returns...

Dair slipped up to walk beside me, today, letting my mind drift over his story. I'm using Derrick Davenport as my visualization of him, and he likes that.

Strong but not overpowering. Right age. Cuddly, even. A bear cub, really. Maybe a bit big for an otter. And caring....

I could see a man like him comforting Adam out of his shell. See him help Adam past the pain of his life and bring back to alive and caring, again...adding to the tragedy of him being taken away so suddenly.

I'm going to finish Adam's story, first...everything that is seen through his POV, even after he's dead and his parents are suing Dair for half his estate.

Then I will dig into Dair's story from the point where he's about to join Wallace in a commitment ceremony to where he's tried for attempted murder and finally has to acknowledge the support he thought he had from certain members of his family does not exist.

I'm unsure about having him track down Joseph, Wallace's former lover, and reconnect. That story seems a bit too pat, now. I'm also uncertain about him shifting his studio from his home to a warehouse in Seattle's warehouse district. That area is really desolate, and I can't see Dair being happy or creative there.

I have a lot of research left to do in many ways, but a plan for the story seems to be coming together in my head. Write it and consider shifting scenes about to make it more like stream of consciousness, at times, as well as work in what that window is, of Dair's.

That part is very important...