Saturday, October 29, 2005
North Palm, right cheek and submarine dreams
I have a good friend who moved to North Palm Beach about six months ago. This is J, my opera-going buddy from Manchester, Connecticut. He met S, this guy who turned out to be THE guy. S has a place in a small group of homes in North Palm and last night I called to find out how they'd made it through hurricane Wilma.
They were fine, as it turned out. Several of the buildings in their area had roofs torn off and others--but not all, strangely--had lost electricity. J and S had both a roof and power until yesterday morning when their electricity went out and now they're told they won't have it back until almost Thanksgiving. As we spoke they were grilling cheese sandwiches on a Coleman camping stove out on the balconyand making the best of it with love and laughter.
In general, however, their situation is problematic. They're unwilling, justifiably, to brave five mile long lines for gasoline that turns out either to be sold out, or that cannot be pumped because the station has no power. They can walk various distances to various grocery stores or supermarkets that may or may not have anything on the shelves. Clothes washing is going to be a chore, they'll probably lose most of what's in their refrigerator, and S's income will dry up until the schools open again. And all that may not be for a month until the power can be restored.
Now it would seem to me that every time a storm like this happens, power is lost to thousands or, as in this case, to several million people. It costs millions of dollars to put the poles back up and string the wires. Wouldn't it make more sense to put the wires into conduit in the ground? Yes it might cost a bit more to bury the lines than to restore the poles, but the way things are going, putting the lines underground would pay for itself very quickly.
Florida Governor Jeb Bush accepted the blame last week for the confusion and late response in Florida, so I guess it's official: neither one of those Bush Bozos knows how to manage a crisis.
Garnet from Glittering Muse was especially taken by the stature of "Civic Virtue" that's a landmark near my old high school. He asked for a picture taken from behind, and I'm happy to provide one. I feel sure his interest is purely historical--he just wants to see the view that caused Fiorello la Guardia to tire of the statue and have it moved out to Queens.
I had a very strange dream last night, not least because I rarely have gay sex dreams, which this one definitely was. On the surface it seems pretty cut and dried--Will goes on a trip, Will gets laid (a lot, as it turns out). But I think there may be deeper things going on and I'll gladly accept any suggested interpretations.
I was in my early 30s and on a tour of southeast Asia. The tour was travelling via submarine, of all things, and when the dream started, we were pulling into Saigon on the Mekong River. The sub glided along through a couple of canals, passing the opera house which was a strange, compact red brick building not like a Vietnamese building but more like something from Amsterdam. There were rows of windows like the windows of an airplane on this sub and we were all glued to them to see as much of the city as possible.
Suddenly we heard the captain telling us we were going to dive. As we slipped underwater, the river water was clear and bright and not at all like the muddy Mekong I had expected. Very shortly the sub entered an underwater tunnel and moved slowly but steadily through it across the entire city. (It wasn't until mid-morning that I realized what an erotic image a sub slipping into a narrow tunnel was). When we surfaced on the other side of Saigon, the captain announced that the U.S. had invaded Vietnam and we were part of the invasion. Saigon was secure and we could move about the city--but not leave it. Jobs would be provided for us and we were instructed to find residences.
The salaries turned out to be highly inflated and cost of living was very cheap. I got a stylish apartment high in a building with a terrific view and decided to seek a young man for housework and sex. Agencies had view books and private rooms for "auditioning" the men. I picked a young university student. The terms were that I provided residence, meals and his tuition. We signed the papers, he moved in with me and the arrangement was working well for both of us.
One night I brought home an Englishman I had picked up in a bar. He was older than I, late 40s or early 50s, a big blond guy in great shape, bearded, energetic, hung and insatiable. I figured it would take the two of us to satisfy him. We went all night and were still exploring all the possible combinations and configurations when the alarm went off and the dream abruptly ended.
Yeah, the Bushes are just not doing very well these days, are they? Poor things, I feel sorry for them.
Thank you for posting the posterior photo of Civic Virtue. That's historical all right, and my civic virtue is rearing and ready to go.
What a dream! Ha! That's an incredible metaphor: all the people staring out the windows of the sub as it entered the tunnel. Let's hear more from those sailors.
And hiring a boy for housework and sex. Will! I think I like your true colors! Great dream all the way.