Its Sunday night, and Ive just finished going through every photograph I own, to weed out the ones I can live without and to give some to others who might love them. Photo therapy, as I prepare to move back to NYC to attend NYU again, is painful. It brings so many emotions to the surface. Its not from bad memories (though there is no lack of pain seeing so many people I loved who are now gone), but it is so emotive -- it is wrenching to see year after year of love, of loss, of joy, of experiences. Of the joy, and pain, of my extraordinary human experience, of seeing snippets of my life over decades in just two days. The range of emotions it elicits, happy and melancholy, leave me feeling dizzy and disoriented. Theres endless Christmases with Catherine Thrasher-Carroll and Sharron Thrasher and Mark Thrasher; theres baby April Carroll and Madison, and Denise and Willa and Hannah and Murphy; theres prom night with Nancy Lin and grad night with Jory Harfouche; theres parties where I learned to mix cocktails and use cast iron with Stacie Thurman and Lola Sciarcon and Steve Suval; theres going abroad for the first time evah with Gabe Silva in Italy, then following up with British, Russian and Chinese adventures with Peter Frintrup and Katrina Markel and Tatiana Bryan Christensen (who looked great on the Great Wall of China) and Kynthia Brunette and Hannah Goss Wachs (who rocked a baboushka like nobodys business); theres Sasha Motalygo in Russia, vamping it up betta than Miss Scarlet to Gabes Col. Mustard; theres dim sum with Jason Rogers and Ruby; there are my years working at Saturday Night Live with Brian Reiss, and my 2001 spent working on The Laramie Project with Jeffrey LaHoste and dancing with a very pregnant Hatton Littman (yes, I grossly owe you a long reply to your beautiful note about M(A)WL(E)R) and a very glamorous Stephanie Two Eagles; theres Middle Church and all the great Christian folks who helped me understand myself as a gay person; theres my younger self in love with girls; theres dinners with Sally and Brunilda Pabon and Ericka Mays; theres my mom and dad and me, at salad bars and CFO camp and church, and even in the World Trade Center; theres family gatherings with Jinger Dixon and Fred Dixon and James Schmitz and Kayci Piper Dixon and Nimfa Pena Schmitz; theres the cutest picture of Jinger holding Wyatt; theres my family before, during and after cancer affected our lives; theres even a couple pictures of my birth mother, whom I only knew for a fraction of her life or mine (and indeed Aunt Judith Kuntz Reynolds it would be interesting to see those pictures from when I was a tot); theres Nancy and Ryan Raffaelli and I heading to college visits on the East Coast together; theres Paul Murdock and I in Thailand together, scuba diving and riding motorcycles and eating pad thai and riding elephants and lauuuuuuuuuughing all the way; theres Sarah Gessler and Mike Hegeman riding the proverbial pony at rhythms; theres Jamie Weber flying like a totally free spirit in the meadow; theres Jan Fisher and Freeman and years of pride floats and gospel concerts and bake sales and prayer groups; theres Stephan Thimme when he still lived like a hippie in a monks cell; theres Kimi Walrod visiting in ice storms, stumbling home to Williamsburg; theres Warren and Ilene and GLORIA; theres making films with Peter and Reed Morano Asc and Lulu Chiang and Ted Kho, dreaming of what was possible. Theres visits with cousins from Ohio (Maria A. Thrasher) to Texas (Sheryl Vernon). Theres a group hug with Barbara Neighbors Deal and Paul Murdock. Theres a very blonde Vincent Torres, and a very blonde Peter Frintrup (?) and a very blonde Jory Harfouche (?) Theres Tanya Cothran before Boyd Cothran! Theres 1210 Dahlia Street, and 35 Fifth Avenue, and 32 East 7th Street, and 322 Union Avenue, and 525 South Fifth Street, and 720 Broadway, and 69 S Elliott Place, Margarets Upholstery and Oxnard High School...its the story of my life so far, in snippets and pictures. And looking back on it, in this moment of transition to a new phase...well, I suppose it is only appropriate it should inspire tears of sadness and of joy. As these pictures show, Ive been so extraordinarily loved by the perfect people, in the perfect time, in the perfect place.
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 02:09:57 +0000
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