I have a notoriously short attention span. It makes it especially difficult for me to last through a lot of theater that I see. But, tonight was an exception. It was the opening production for Actors Theatre of Louisville, Fire on the Mountain. It was a short (1 1/2 hour, no intermission) musical about the lives of coalminers in the Appalachian Mountains. The music was mainly Bluegrass with a bit of Soul tossed in at times.
I really never knew much about Appalachia until I went to Centre College in Danville, Kentucky. The school itself is not in the mountains, it is in the middle of the state, but, my freshman roommate was from Harlan, Kentucky. Harlan is in the middle of coal country. Russ was a random roommate pairing, and we couldn't have been greater opposites. He was a "good ole' boy" from the rural hills that came to college to play football. I was a "gay ole' boy" from suburbia that went to college to play around. Needless to say, we parted ways, as roomies, after our first year. He taught me a lot though in one weekend when he invited me back to his hometown. I was a bit surprised by the invitation, but accepted either because I had nothing better to do, or felt rude saying no. I knew his family had money. Most of the kids at my college had money, as it is the most expensive school in the state. His home was very nice, in a semi-rural subdivision outside the "city", but not palatial really. His family was much of what I expected, into football, god, and country, quite the opposite of mine. The house was decorated what I call "Country Kitchen", but it was a classier version, not like a trailer with geese on the towels and throw pillows.
Anyway, his dad had some bigwig job that had to do with the coal industry. So, when we went to dinner that Saturday night, Russ' father took me around the county a bit, and show me some of the sights. One of the things that I remember most about the tour was seeing the results of strip mining. Now, I am not a big environmentalist, but the effects of this mining seemed devastating to the land. The rolling hills covered with trees were stunning in shades of red and yellow, as fall had just begun. But, then we would pass huge areas devoid of trees or grass, or seemingly any wildlife. It looked horrible. I never really got if his family was for or against strip mining. That was many years ago though before the state of Kentucky really started to look down on it, and his family made their living from coal indirectly. So, I imagine they were not too opposed.
The other thing I noticed along those roads on my first trip to Appalachia was the poverty. I had never seen a real shack that people lived in before. I think I even asked Russ if some of these places were people's homes, and I think he laughed a bit. Later in my college career, I would make friends with Amy Sue and Sarah, who were from Pikeville and Ashland respectively (both in the Appalachian Mountains). I become comfortable traveling home with them sometimes, and got to know I world I never knew existed.
Fire on the Mountain brought back some of my old Kentucky exploring days. The twangy, kitschy music I used to love from Dwight Yoakam and Uncle Tupelo came back to me, as well as the extreme poverty and hardship that many in my state face. Hell, I barely leave my neighborhood now, and never leave my city unless I am flying far away. Maybe I should take another look around my state.
We have all had our share of vacation hook-ups (I have had my fair share at least), the good, the bad, and the ugly. This is a story of all three wrapped into one. I decided to spend a month in Puerto Vallarta, the gay beach side capital of Mexico. I was arrived the second week of May 2007, and stayed until the second week of June. I rented a two bedroom/ two bath condo for the month on the cheap. It was slightly off the beaten path, but i knew it was in the heart of "gay Vallarta". I spent the first few days alone, just getting re familiarized with the city. I had been to Puerto Vallarta several times before with my mother, who wanted me to suggest a vaction place for us after her boss started giving her two free tickets anywhere for a Christmas gift. What a better place than PV, for the culture, shopping, restaurants, and beach that she loves, and the gay boys I love. She loves gay boys too, me being her only child.
This time it was gay boys only for the entire month (except one hag....which turned out to be ok). I booked the boys into the condo. Two groups, one left on the day the others arrived. Anyway, this is a tale of two tricks...back to the story. I met the first trick within the first week. David & JPat had just arrived a day before, and I took them to the hottest new club in the city, Club Manaña. I was completely wasted when I returned from the bathroom, and David told me a boy was asking about me in horrible English. Long story short, we met, and he went home with me. Over the next couple of weeks, he leached onto me, and I grew tired of it. We hung out, got to know each other. I could never pronounce his name. Sex was marginal, at best.
A couple weeks later under the watch of second group of friends, and a potent hit of ecstasy, I met another, more to my taste Mexican man, Francisco. It was at the same Club Manaña. I was in love for the night. My previous trick was doing drag in another club for the night. Yes, I fucked a drag queen. Francisco and I dropped more X together that night,and danced until dawn. Later, we went back to his modest apartment, and had that sex you can only have while on the X. Next day - he wanted to go drinking, early. we had barely slept, and were both giddy from the sex and drugs. We went to the "gay beach" where I had spent my previous 25 days with Wencesiao (first trick). Wences was there, and the drama ensued. Only, I did not care. I felt like I was breaking the heart of someone that had never loved before, but I felt proud about it. Wences would never approach until Francisco went to the store. When Wences finally did approach the DJ on the beach was playing the most appropriate song, Niño.
Niño es hora de partir La vida me invito Hacia otro lugar, Sin ti Ves, Tambien me duele Es, lo mejor Dejame irme, Dejame partir
I broke Wencesiao's heart, Francisco broke mine. Karma may be a bitch, I may have met her.
I really never knew much about Appalachia until I went to Centre College in Danville, Kentucky. The school itself is not in the mountains, it is in the middle of the state, but, my freshman roommate was from Harlan, Kentucky. Harlan is in the middle of coal country.
Anyway, his dad had some bigwig job that had to do with the coal industry. So, when we went to dinner that Saturday night, Russ' father took me around the county a bit, and show me some of the sights. One of the things that I remember most about the tour was seeing the results of strip mining. Now, I am not a big environmentalist, but the effects of this mining seemed devastating to the land. The rolling hills covered with trees were stunning in shades of red and yellow, as fall had just begun. But, then we would pass huge areas devoid of trees or grass, or seemingly any wildlife. It looked horrible.
