Barcodes and Burning Innocence

Lemons Continued

2008-04-16T21:10:00.000-07:00

But lemons are not the topic of mind. The topic of my mind was always David, and his was always me.

Under quiet duress, I was always the light that shone amongst the crowd for him, even when he sang in order to forget the burning urges he harbored for me. I had no knowledge of this, of course. I had been his acquaintance and then friend for two years when he became sick. It was at the hospital I met his parents for the first time; both his parents and I were unaware of his feelings. I was worried that my friend (and secret admiree) would lose his scholarship, as was his roomate. It was his roomate who requested I take his bag with his laptop to him.

I was, of course happy for an excuse to see him, for I was consumed with unbounding worry. That and I thought about him more than I thought about anything else worth thinking.

Oblivion and lemons

2008-04-16T20:52:00.000-07:00

We had no clue of another's sadly blind avoidance of lust, and of longing. We both naturally got along in classes we shared. We had accepted one another as friends, although coming from different backgrounds. He was the product of a far right Catholic lifestyle and I had not even been baptized. My parents didn't feel it necessary for my immortal soul. They felt their apathy should not hinder me from finding religious beliefs, but they didn't want to impose any on me.

There's something to be said about that, as an aside. Apathy breeds apathy. This is why parents so often lose their children's loyalty early on. It's a lack of caring that breeds itself into learned behavior for the child.

If you plant a lemon tree, you will, inevitably, receive lemons.

But lemons are not the topic of mind. The topic of my mind was always David, and his was always me. More to come later.

The sweetest transgression

2008-04-16T20:42:00.001-07:00

Enter Uri, stage left.

It is at this point that I am proud (and somehow sad, as well) to proclaim to you, my reader, that David's urges were not towards any man.

No, it was me. Oblivious as I was, I was the light to his darkness, even though I was his forbidden sin, I do revel, at least for this moment, in the exquisite ideal that he thinks of me as his wonderous downfall... and his sweetest transgression. It is so strange how one's own downfall and uprising to a new hope could be embodied in the same idea. Give me just this single moment, God. Let me have it for my own to bear.

In this moment, realizing it was me, I am glad.

The worst part

2008-04-16T18:44:00.000-07:00

The worst part about not having a voice was the silence where there was once a beatific sense of melody every day.

Not singing made him frustrated, and angry, and faithless.

Looking back on it, the situation was more a trial from whatever higher power there is... we think.

It was out of this frustration that he began to doubt his current view of religion, and ponder the exploration of his 'sinful' feelings towards guys, people of the same sex, whatever you want to call it.

His mother was a devout and strict Catholic, and would never have abided that. He had never kissed anyone, female or male before. Bringing home a girlfriend he could possibly be sexually active was very taboo, and the thought of bringing home a man was just unimaginable.

...Almost unmentionable would be her wrath if he did so... that which he coveted the most... the strong, sinfully sour and sweet companionship of a man.

And it was... her wrath was abominable. But that is for later.

Where was God? (What the cold did)

2008-04-16T18:23:00.000-07:00

Now David could no longer sing. At first he thought he would just have to sit out the next church concert, which devastated him in part because he had a solo.

Even more devastating was the fact his voice didn't return. He visited the doctor, who told him it was worse than worst case scenario. He had small tears in his vocal chords. If he ever regained his voice, it would be a miracle.

Forever without a voice. It was heartbreaking. Even worse was the thought of having to literally learn a NEW language, sign language. He barely had a hold on English. His parents knew it was going to be hard. They arrived at the hospital with a new cell phone for him, kindly thinking about text messaging as a temporary solution.

He would make it his only solution.

He was left mute, unable to even do something as simple as correct people when they pronounced his last name wrong, which happened more often than he could bear sometimes.
(Tgauchsin, although a beautiful... poetic word in Lenape of the native americans, is rather easy to butcher.)

So sad......

This is why no one has faith.

2008-04-16T18:10:00.000-07:00

Stupid screen capture. Anways, here's how it goes.

It all started when David Lost his voice. One day, in the middle of winter, he caught a cold. A stupid, miserable, pain in the ass virus that doesn't kill anyone in the civilized world. It would end up bringing him to his knees, so to speak. He was walking to class, texting on his phone, and reminding his parents that yes, he would indeed be going to church with them, despite his recent favor of a more progressive, upbeat church with youthful music, compared to the drab catholic mass with fire and brimstone. He then sneezed, loud and painful, into the searing cold. He knew he was getting sick, he just didn't want to admit it.

Three days later, he was int he midst of the worst cold he'd ever had. It was wretched not going to his voice lessons, which were his only real passion, and escape from this world. He could release all his anxiety over his life through his lungs, straining it like... washing dirt off of food, cleaning himself and coming out of his song renewed and full of life. He felt like God listened to him then. He felt like God would tell him it was ok that he was gay, and that everyone has days where they don't want to get up. He wished that were all true. Singing made all that fear go away, like the world was a better place for that moment.

Barcodes and Burning Innocence-The Beginning.

2008-04-16T18:04:00.000-07:00

There is no justice for the beginning of this... series of bits of my memory put into digital code. There are no words capable of delineating the whole of the events that I am attempting to transcribe today, and nothing can encompass the emotional and social ramifications of the experience behind the memory. It's all about the experience, and never losing it.

So how do I start with its (hopeful) immortalization?

David was upset. After months of laying his blonde head in his hands and begging whatever higher power was out there to give him a sign, any sign, of faith. All he got was this barcode.

What? Is this some sick joke? A barcode from GOD?!

Indeed, it did seem like a stupid prank to David, but he and I both know very well the seriousness of our time together, even in it's most candid moments. There was always that undertow of fear that while clutching to each other in exquisite happiness, that it could be taken away from us in a slip of an instant.

This is why no one has faith.