The view of Great American Ballpark from the lower deck seat I tried to steal. I got caught.... 

View of the Ohio River from The Great American Ballpark - I love the riverboat in this shot. 

My awesome view from my ten-dollar seat! 

 

Downtown Cincinnati from the entrance of The Great American Ballpark. 

Some building in downtown Cinci. 

A beautiful fountain in downtown Cincinnati. 

Walking the Fine Line Between Courage and Insanity.

I got to Donna’s right as the sun was setting. She was on the front steps along with "Little Jessi", as she came to be called during my stay. I was "Big Jessi" or "Other Jessi". Her neighbor, Gina, was there too, skipping and pacing all over the front walk. Gina, a tiny Italian woman, is a total character, just a bundle of energy. She cracked me up - I was so tired from marching and dancing and gaying around all day that I could barely keep up with the constant stream of words pouring out of her mouth. I did gather, though, that she lives up the block, she’s a colorist at a salon in town and works hard at it, she has a son Jacob’s age who’s also named Jake, and she’s divorced.

At one point she said, very seriously, "Yeah, I’m colorblind." My head snapped up. I was thinking of asking her if she could touch up my hair but after she said that all I asked was, "Wait, wait. Aren’t you a color-IST?"
She pounced on me, grabbing a handful of my hair in each hand and shouting, "You’re quick! I knew you weren’t a natural blonde! HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Gina had come over to Donna’s to use the bathroom since her toilet wasn’t working. Then all the guests at Gina’s house came over. "This is the potty house! Two-fifty to pee but five bucks if you gotta go Number Two!" Gina shouted from Donna’s stoop. I was exhausted, just sitting back and surveying the chaos that followed this little pixie. A steady parade of women and children filtered through Donna’s living room for about five minutes. Seriously, though, you gotta love neighbors. Sometimes you can count on them more than your own family. All of Donna’s neighbors seemed to love her, especially sweet Miss Natalie who lived right next door. She’s a wonderful old lady with a beautiful garden and laughing blue eyes.

Donna and I left for her friend’s house, leaving Little Jessi on the couch watching TV. After a beer stop we were cruising down to Parma, Ohio. Donna had a lot of questions, which I was happy to answer. "Explain to me again why you’re doing this?" she said. I gave her the spiel, the "I-Want-To-Prove-That-There-Are-More-Exciting-Things-In-Everyday-Life-Than-Wondering-If-Tom-Cruise-And-Katie-Holmes-Will-Get-Married" answer, followed by the "For-Instance-You-Are-So-Much-Cooler-Than-Paris-Hilton" answer. She seemed amused. She asked about my family, my parents, what they think about this whole crazy journey. I waxed poetic on my theories about my parent’s almost-lost-it marriage and how ecstatic I am that things seem to finally be working themselves out, knock on wood. It was funny how I wanted to know so much about her and ended up learning so much about myself in one short car ride just by trying to explain my life to her.

We got to her friend’s house, a recently-married couple named Mary and Sondra. Sondra and Donna have been best friends for years. People were sitting around a fire ring in the backyard - there was Loud Becky, Dan ("The Man"), Sondra’s sister, Chrissy and her husband, and Sondra and Mary in addition to Donna and myself. I sank into a blue folding chair and snuggled into my sweatshirt, sleepy and watching everyone else interact. I sat next to Dan and was quiet for a long time. I think I kind of freaked the other people out a little because I was. When the attention switched to the new girl, everyone had a lot of questions for me, but they were all pretty nice. Mary especially seemed intrigued by my trip, and kept saying, "Are you gonna put me in your book?" Listening to them banter made me laugh.

Donna started telling the story of Why CJ Hates Jessica and apparently everyone else knew CJ as well, because a collective groan rose from the circle as Mary said, "Please don’t mention that name at my house." The odd thing was, as Donna continued the story about how CJ was convinced I was an axe murderer, Dan leaned over and asked me, "So, really, are you a murderer? Are there any bodies in your car?"
With a straight face, staring ahead and intensely into the fire, I answered, "No. They won’t fit in my Civic." I was joking, of course.

Dan took me seriously. Literally, he jumped up out of his chair and walked away, saying to Loud Becky, "I don’t want to sit by her."
"WHY?" said Loud Becky.
"Don’t ask," he said.
"Oh my god, are you freakin’ kidding me?" was the only thought going through my head. "He is a freakin’ 33-year-old man, why is he getting so uppity?" Maybe I got snappy because I was so tired, maybe because I was racked by guilt over making out with a sixteen-year-old girl, I don’t know, but I shouted, over the din of everyone talking, "For the love of God, I am not a psycho! What is it gonna take to convince somebody? I mean, do I seriously look crazy?!"

Everyone paused for a second. Then they started laughing, everyone but Dan, who sat back down and leaned over again, saying, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. And I don’t think you’re a murderer."
"Well, thank you for that. It’s cool," I said, still staring into the fire. I got over it as quickly as I had gotten upset, but I guess it was just because I don’t question other people to their face. And I work really hard to be open and kind to everyone, so being thought of as anything but makes me sad.

The rest of the night was fun, but I was fighting not to fall asleep. When Donna finally said, "Jess, are you ready?" I popped out of the chair. We said goodbye to everyone and then dragged our tired asses back in the car. Donna told me she was planning on having a cookout at the house the next day. She also told me a lot of stories on the way home, mostly about her mom. She was very close with her mother and when she died it hit Donna hard.

"My biggest regret is that I wasn’t there for her right before she died. I never really got to say goodbye. I was a workoholic. She called me in the afternoon and I said, ‘Yeah, yeah, Mom, let me call you back, I’m busy.’ Then I got distracted and didn’t." She paused. "I got the call at two o’clock that morning."

I’ve known so many people who have experienced the same thing, even myself. I could tell Donna was a little anxious to bring it up, but I’ve come to realize that talking about times like that helps to prevent it from happening more. The more we remind ourselves to take an inventory of the people and things that truly matter to us, and that these things can be taken away quickly and without warning, the less likely we are to take them for granted. It’s not easy or fun to think about, but it keeps us from needing to feel like we missed out. I realized this when standing on my Brooklyn rooftop on September 12, 2001, coffee mug in hand and slippers on my feet, watching the smoke rise from lower Manhattan, knowing I would never see my friend Annie again. I threw that mug against the brick wall of the adjoining building and cried as the coffee dribbled down the mortar and shattered ceramic. Since that day I try not to miss an opportunity to tell someone I love them.

Donna and I got back to the house and I slept in the extra bed in Little Jessi’s room. Falling asleep, she told me a story about a talking Furbie toy she had as a child that woke her in the middle of the night, saying, "I’m going to kill you!" She threw it out the window and it cursed at her.
"No way!" I said.
"I’m serious! It happened!" I believed her. Those Furbie toys are freakish.

The next morning I woke up and realized it wasn’t morning, it was actually almost 1:00. Downstairs I could hear Jacob in the kitchen, asking, "Is that girl still asleep?" Totally embarrassed and feeling like a lazy bum, I wandered downstairs and poked my head into the kitchen. "Good morning!" Donna said, busy making potato casserole and prepping burgers.
"Too bad it’s not morning," I mumbled.
"Eh, you’re fine. You probably needed your sleep."

I tried to help her as best I could but she is so independent! She is Super Mom, she does almost everything herself. I felt even more like a dork when she said, "I should go mow the lawn but I don’t think I have time."
"I could try to mow it. I mean, I’ve never mowed a lawn before but I could try."
She looked at me like I just said, "I eat kittens for breakfast."
"You’ve never mowed a lawn? Ever?"
"Um....no. My dad always did it. And then he got my brothers to do it. I never had to."
"Oh my god," she said. She walked outside and got the lawnmower out of the garage and started it up. Little Jessi was in the garage and then came in the house.
"You’ve never mowed a lawn?!" she asked, incredulous.
"Um......no."
I don’t think Donna trusted me to mow her backyard, because she did it herself. I dropped the lawnmowing topic as quickly as I could. I threw on clothes to walk down to the gas station for a cup of coffee and Jacob asked, "Where you goin’?"
"The BP around the corner, you wanna come?"
"Okay, but I’m gonna ride my bike."

We made our way to the ATM for some cash and he wanted to press all the buttons. I know you’re not supposed to give out your password but I let him type it in. When the twenty came out he grabbed it and pretended to run. "Wow, you’re hilarious," I called after him. At the gas station he gave me the undeniable, essential kid question: "Can I get something?" After debating the merits of Pop-Tarts versus Nutter Butters, he decided on Altoids. "They’re not too strong for me!" he declared to the counter guy. On the way out, walking towards the corner, I was ahead of him. He called after me, "Hold still for a second!" I paused and he rode up behind me, punching my arm gently with a chorus of "RED PUNCH BUGGY NO PUNCH BACKS NO PUNCH BACKS!!!!"
"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH, DARN IT! YOU GOT ME!"
"Yeah, I did," he giggled.

Back at Donna’s I barely helped set up for the cookout. Her family was there, her brother and his wife and their two kids, Baby Andrew, and then Donna’s cousin Mary with two of her kids. Miss Natalie came over. It was really nice! I didn’t talk much, just listened a lot as the grown-ups discussed work and ambition. Donna is just starting her own business and wants her brother in on it. It was interesting to hear them talk about money - saying things like, "I want to make over $100 grand a year, that’s what I want" - and mulling it over in my idealistic, I-don’t-need-money mind and realizing that my ideas are pretty outdated. Sometimes you do need money.

I had so much to write about. I excused myself from the party and set up in Donna’s living room. I didn’t want to be anti-social but the amount of stuff I had to cover was stressing me out. I was no fun anyway. I did get a lot done, watching the kids play in the front yard through the open door. The sun set and the kids moved down to the basement, listening to Mp3's. I got sick of writing and burned a Jason Mraz CD for Jessi. I ended up in the basement with all the kids and Jessi’s friend Nicole offered me twenty bucks if I put her in my book. She was a funny little thing.
"There may come a time when I am so broke I take you up on that," I said.

Jessi and I got on the topic of religion when I brought up something I had seen at Gay Pride. She is a born-again Christian. Donna isn’t, but Jessi is very, very spiritual. I almost envy her, being able to believe in something without questioning it. She brought up the stand-by "Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin" quote when I told her my biggest problem with Christianity is the concept of homosexuality as a sin. I’ve said this before, I just cannot tolerate the idea that human love could be a sin. It makes no sense to me. Jessi was such a sport when I presented her with all the usual questions meant to poke holes in a Christian argument, like, "Do you realize that the Bible is a book written by a man, a mortal man - a man who was completely capable of putting his own ideas into the Bible and passing it off as The Word Of God?"
Her answer: "Back then, God would have shot him with a lightning bolt if he tried."
Another question: "Why do you think human love is a sin if it’s between two homosexuals?"
"I’m not the kind of person that would judge other people, it’s not my job, but I just feel really odd physically when I see two gay people holding hands or something like that. It’s not a good feeling inside. My heart feels heavy. But when I walk into my church, or I walk into a crowd of other believers, I feel really light and happy."
I couldn’t argue with that. Well, I wanted to, but I wouldn’t.

Jessi was going to a four-day Christian rock festival later in the week. "You should totally come!" she said. "It’ll be a good chapter in your book!"
"I’m sure it will," I thought to myself. "But going to jail for assaulting someone who tries to force their tired, backwards Fundamentalist values on me won’t be..." I was intrigued but wary. "Maybe I’ll go for one day," I said.
"Awesome."

Everybody went to bed and I stayed up to write. The next morning Donna came up to wake me and say goodbye. It was your typical "keep in touch, be safe, and take a sandwich with you if you want" exchange. I didn’t hug her because after getting to know her over the weekend, I figured she’d be the type to push me off with "none-of-that-goodbye-stuff!" I could hear Jacob downstairs but couldn’t convince my legs to move. The two of them left and I think I fell back asleep for an hour. When I woke up Jessi was up and about. As I packed my stuff and loaded the car, she drew me a picture - my name tagged in a graffiti style in neon colors. It looks really cool! I left a thank-you note for Donna on the kitchen table in which I apologized for not being a bigger help and for being so quiet all weekend - I chalked it up to being speechless that she would be so welcoming. I hugged Jessi goodbye but it didn’t feel like goodbye because I had made up my mind to go to the Alive Fest the night before as I was falling asleep. She saved me from forgetting my shampoo and razor, running out the door with them as I started the car.

I popped in the Relient K CD Jessi had given me, waved goodbye to Miss Natalie and found the interstate. It’s a four hour drive to Cincinnati on the freeway and by the time I got to Southern Ohio I had the entire album memorized. I fell in love with it. The beats are fun and the message is religious without being specifically Christian - meaning you could sing along and be thinking of almost anyone or anything in your head, Jesus or otherwise. I put a couple on repeat and dedicated them to a different entity each time - God, my parents, ambition, my friend Carl, sushi, my dog, sunlight, Buddha, my friend Dana, my car, the carrot-tahini dressing at Dojo’s in NYC. It really helped to pass the time.

I got to Cincinnati around 4:30 and made the idealistic mistake of assuming that finding Greater New Light Baptist Church, and Rev. Shuttlesworth, would be as easy as finding the city itself, as though there was a giant, neon, Vegas-esque sign pointing the way, or that Rev. Shuttlesworth himself would be at the city limits to greet me. Neither was true. Still, I drove around the city and fell in love for the second time that day. Cincinnati is quite beautiful, and the streets are incredibly easy to traverse in a car - not like the mish-mash that is New York City - and parking is incredibly inexpensive. It’s twelve dollars to park for 24 hours in Cincinnati - compare that to $65 in Boston! I tried to find Shuttlesworth Circle to no avail but it was getting late, as in "time to find a place to stay for the night" late. I parked in a basement garage, grabbed the laptop, and headed over to a café I had passed on the way. It was called The Phoenix but when I got closer I realized it wasn’t a café at all, it was a dive bar and there were no white people inside. That didn’t bother me, but I recalled Melinda in Geneva and I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I strolled over to an Irish pub around the corner called McFadden’s.

I walked past the little pixie hostess and set up the computer at the bar, fielding the standby weird stares. I ordered my Diet Coke and asked the bartender if he knew of any youth hostels or cheap campgrounds around. He claimed ignorance and sent the head chef over to talk to me.

The chef - a big guy of about 30 with a shaved head and a blonde goatee - was Kurt. I liked him because he didn’t try to hit on me, he just talked to me like one of the guys. His wide-set blue eyes weren’t at all lecherous.
"Okay, I have two questions for you," I said. "One - are the Reds playing at home tonight?"
"Yeah, actually, they are. Why, did you want to go to the game?" He gave me directions to the stadium, which by the grace of God was in walking distance, and told me where to get a ticket.
"Okay, two - where can I stay tonight for under twenty bucks?"
He offered, "The parking garage?"
I told him The Saga Of The Boston Parking Garage but he assured me I wouldn’t have any problems. "This is Cincinnati," he said, sarcastically. "It’s smaller. Everyone’s a little more laid-back. Trust me, you’ll be fine."
"If you say so. Okay, last thing - if I stay in the parking garage, where can I grab a shower tomorrow?"
Together we looked up the YWCA online and he said, "You’ll probably want to leave here for the game in about 45 minutes. If I think of any other advice between now and then, I’ll come back over."
I thanked him and went back to writing, and ordered a beer since I wouldn’t have to move my car at all.

At 6:30, unfortunately thoroughly buzzed, I headed down to The Stadium Formerly Known As Three Rivers, The Great American Ballpark. I got a ten-dollar ticket in the cheap seats and ordered another beer. I had changed my shirt before going to the game and was the only person wearing mint green at a Reds-Cardinals game. The game was a blast, even though the Reds lost 6-0 to St. Louis. The only bad part came in the eighth inning, when a foul ball came right to a group of Boy Scouts sitting to my right. The boy closest - a pudgy kid with glasses - dropped it over the rail, where it fell to the lower deck and was caught by a guy with his buddies. A chorus of "OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH, MAAAAAAAAAAN!!!" erupted from the group as the boy buried his head in his arms. His face was hidden but I could see tiny tears falling onto his tan uniform shorts. The other kids razzed him for a little bit until they realized how upset he was, then they tried to cheer him up but he shrugged them off. I asked a security guard if there was any way I could get a ball, any ball, to give to him.
"Yeah, I saw that drop, that was too bad. But it’s too late in the game now, there’s not much I can do."
"Can you just try?" I pleaded.
"Okay, okay, I’ll be back in a sec." He walked around a corner and made a phone call.
When he came back he said, "Sorry, ma’am. Too late in the game."
"Thanks anyway."

After the game I walked back to McFadden’s for some more drinks. It was still pretty early, too early to go to sleep in the car. I smiled at the pixie hostess again and perched on a barstool, watching some cheesy music videos playing on the screens above the bottles, like The Cars’ "I Don’t Want To Know". The bartender from before said, "Hey, you’re back! Where’s your computer?"
"Eh, I’m off work now," I said, pulling out my writing journal instead.

McFadden’s seemed to be The Spot, just really trendy. I didn’t really fit in with my Mossimo shirt and knock-off jeans from Tar-jay. What amazed me were all the beautiful people in Cincinnati! The men were all chiseled and gorgeous and the women all seemed to be models, skinny and wearing designer clothes. I never pictured Southern Ohio to be the mecca of skinny women in Max Azria, but I learned something new during my time there.

After awhile I noticed Kurt hanging with some other people at the other end of the bar. I asked the bartender, a sweet girl named Manda, to send over my thanks for his help earlier. About twenty minutes later, he pulled up a stool beside me and asked, "How was the game?"
"Oh, dude, it was awesome!"

He was incredibly easy to talk to and we must have discussed everything from travel to waitressing and all the taboo bars topics in between - religion, sex, and politics. I told him about Larry in Maine and his Days of the Week creed(s), about the Alive Fest I was going to that Friday and how nervous I was that they would try to save my soul. He admitted to me that he was thoroughly embarrassed that Ohio had been the downfall of the 2004 election, and had ushered in the Second Coming of the Bush Administration. "The rest of the country may have moved on a little, but Ohio liberals are still reeling," he said. When abortion as a Fundamentalist political issue came up, he said, "Actually, I lean towards liberal but I’m totally against abortion. See, I’m adopted, so I was basically a decision away from not talking to you right now." Amazing how one person can knock the wind right out of your argument sail with one sentence.

Kurt gave me a tour of the place, which is actually huge, belying it’s small awning and alcoved forefront. Somewhere along the line, he said to me, "Okay. It’s obvious you’re not a psycho killer. If you want to crash on my couch tonight, you’re more than welcome. And you can shower there, too." I guess I said yes, because the next thing I knew we were walking to his truck, which was hilarious because it was in some labyrinth of a parking garage where we could see it but couldn’t find the avenue to walk to it. We decided to do some amateur gymnastics and flip-flop over the guardrail. Kurt made it through unscathed but I managed to acquire a new bruise on my leg that’s had people asking me if I got in a kick-fight for the last week now.

At his apartment, about 15 minutes from downtown Cinci, I played with his little kitten, Jazz, and crashed on the sofa. I didn’t want to get up for anything the next morning. When Kurt got out of the shower and dressed, he stepped outside for a cigarette. I snuck off the couch and onto his bed and went back to sleep. It didn’t last long. I had to drive into work with him to get my car. He came into the room and said, "Okay, you can sleep for twenty more minutes," then jumped up on the bed.
"Errrrgghhhh..." I mumbled from under a pillow. "Dooooon’t.... call in sick and let’s go back to sleep and sleep all day, okay?"
"Dude, I wish," he said. "I feel like crap." We were both hung over like champs but not admitting it to each other.

Eventually, I hopped through the shower, not washing my hair because I didn’t want to make Kurt late. I threw on a clean shirt and my dirty jeans and we dragged our sorry asses back into downtown Cincinnati. "What are you gonna do today?" he asked.
"Probably just write. I’m gonna go to Starbucks or something and just purge. What time do you get off work?"
"Probably around 9 or 10. You wanna hang out later?"
"Yeah, that’d be really cool. See ya!" I hopped out of the truck and onto Vine Street.

I found a juice bar and set up shop, then moved to Starbucks when my battery got low. While at the juice bar, I came to adore the only other customer, an elderly black man in a camoflauge t-shirt, black suspenders, and a straw fedora. Through his coke-bottle glasses he was pouring over a copy of USA Today and would occasionally announce the headlines to the two people behind the counter, saying, in a thin, shaky voice, "Can you believe that?"
"You’re the man, Homer!" would be the owner’s response every time.

Before I left the owner and I got to talking about my trip. The more I spoke, the more he thought I was an idiot. "Geez Goodness God! You need to be careful! I mean, I guess it’s cool that you’re living your dream, but god! What the hell are you thinking?!" He was Middle Eastern, I was guessing Lebanese, and his accent got thicker the more agitated he got. He managed to keep a smile on his face the whole time he was berating me, which made me giggle. I just laughed it off, giving him the same answer I’ve given Mennonite Jean and Sandusky Chris:
"If I stayed in a hotel every night I wouldn’t have made it out of Maryland."
"You’re insane," he said as I headed for the door.

"There’s a fine line between insanity and courage," I said, as I stepped into the sunlight on the streets of Cincinnati.

Toby Radloff and Robert Woodward, Grand Marshals of the Cleveland Gay Pride Parade. 

Spongebob? Share Bear? Must be Gay Pride in Cleveland! Yay! 

One of the Pride floats. 

You go, boy! 

The Pride Parade! 

Some of the Grid Girls at Cleveland Pride. 

The Kimberley Locke set at Gay Pride Cleveland. I was freaking out like a teenage girl.... 

Jennifer. 

I can't name a single player on this team but the stadium sure is pretty! Jacob's Field, Cleveland, OH. 

I forgot to post this earlier, it's the note that Mike left on my car in Dunkirk. 

Toby and I at Arabica in Cleveland, OH. The cleveage in Cleveland was unintentional. 

I love this shot of Toby, I think he looks stately. 

Putting the "Hell" In "Hello"

ARE ANY OTHER BLOGGERS HAVING PROBLEMS WITH PICASA OR HELLO NOT UPLOADING PHOTOS?! I HATE THIS! IF YOU ARE HAVING THE SAME ISSUE, PLEASE COMMENT HERE.

This Post Not For The Homophobic Of Heart.

After hanging out with Toby I stayed at Arabica while he went to a meeting at the Lesbian and Gay center. It was a great place to get writing done, but unfortunately.....eh. The problem with not having a little hovel of my own to go write in - and having to be in public constantly - is the opportunity for people to get all up in my face with questions. I would have gotten so much more done if it weren’t for this guy who kept literally leaning over my shoulder to read and not get the hint when I gave him short answers to his questions. He kept trying to get me to go out to dinner with him, even when I kept saying, "No, thanks" or "I’m not interested", stuff like that. Ergh! I hate that! Well, he finally left and I stayed til the place closed. Then I wandered over to the diner I had slept outside of a few nights before and splurged on an actual hamburger! And fries! I know what you’re saying - "Jessica, let’s not be crazy. I mean, come on - french fries too? You are becoming a madwoman!"

I wrote more at the diner, which meant fielding more weird looks but at this point it’s almost second nature. I love catching someone staring at me and then getting a look on my face like, "What, bitch? Bring it!" I always win the staring contests. So I was at the diner for a good couple hours, until about midnight. There was a Pre-Pride party going on across the street at Twist, the gay bar I went to earlier in the week. I wandered over there after parking my car in the CVS lot and putting another "please-pity-me" note on the windshield for the tow-truck man.

The scene was the same as it had been the other night, only busier. I felt like I was in that game on Sesame Street with the four squares and one thing doesn’t belong - "One of these things is not like the others, one of these things is not the same!" Still, I feel like that a lot so it didn’t bother me. I wandered around until I found the dancing and then it was all good! I hooked up with these three guys - obviously they were gay, so it wasn’t like that - and we danced and danced, it was so fun! Even the gay boys were like, "Damn, girl, you’re awesome!" I love to dance.

There were women there, too, a big group of them. I danced a little with one of them. She was older than me and she looked really good for her age, tan with long, layered red hair and a big smile. She was tall and her jeans complimented her lean figure. Eventually they turned the music off and everyone poured out onto the street. The woman I was dancing with and two of her friends asked me all sorts of questions - the first one was, "So do you kiss girls?" - and we got to talking about my trip. "Where are you sleeping tonight?" one asked me.
"In the CVS parking lot." I said.
One of the women, short and masculine with curly blonde hair, said, "Well, you can come on home with me."
"Um, no thanks. I’ll be okay in the parking lot." She gave me a bad feeling.
My dance partner spoke up. "You could stay at my place. I have kids and a cat but you’re welcome to stay."
"Um, thanks but I should be okay. CVS is open 24 hours so it should be safe." Curly Blonde was giving Red Head the evil eye, as if to say, "Don’t cock-block me." (What would you call lesbian cock-blocking? )

I started to walk towards the CVS parking lot. They were parked there as well. Red Head, whose name was Donna, reiterated her invitation. "You don’t have to come home with me, I just know how much it sucks to sleep in a car. I won’t try to....y’know..... it’s not like that. But you’re welcome to just crash. You can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. And that way you can shower in the morning."
She said the magic word.

I looked at her with my please-don’t-screw-me-over-I’m-really-nice eyes and said, "Are you sure it’s not.... like that?"
"Completely."
"Okay."

I did trust her a little, definitely more than Curly Blonde, whose name was CJ. CJ noticed this and was offended, especially because I had turned her down. Donna rode with me. As we were waiting for my breathalyzer to warm up, CJ approached the passenger side window, very upset. I rolled it down and she spit some venom at Donna, something about "For someone who won’t even give out her phone number, you’re being awful stupid about bringing home this psychobitch! You don’t even know where she’s been. She’s probably gonna kill your kids in the middle of the night, Donna!" I was thinking, "Um, hi, I’m sitting right here..." But she was drunk and pissed that I didn’t want her, so I didn’t care.

Their driving arrangements required all of us going back to Donna’s, since a few other people’s cars were there - and because CJ wanted to follow me and make sure I actually went to Donna’s and not turn down some side street to murder her. Donna and I got to know each other as we drove. She was very nice, not at all creepy. She’s a single mom and works as a Project Manager for a big company. I told her how hardcore lesbians sometimes scare me because they’re aggressive. "Like your friend," I said.

When we got to her house, CJ and another woman, Geri, stayed in the car for awhile, obviously gossiping and/or talking shit about me. I think Geri might have actually been trying to assuage CJ. Anyway, they finally got out and said goodbye. CJ said, "Call me in the morning if you’re still alive, Donna." I was just laughing, it was a little ridiculous. Donna stuck up for me, saying, "She’s not a psychobitch! She’s a sweet girl!"
"I promise I won’t kill your friend," I said. "I’ll even give you my website."
"To be honest, I don’t want it!" CJ spat.
Well, I can’t win them all.

Donna set me up in her room with clean sheets and the whole shebang. Her kids were asleep, oblivious to the late-night population increase. Those eight cups of coffee and Red Bull were still careening through my blood but eventually I fell asleep, waking up at 10 AM. I peeked out of Donna’s bedroom doorway at her seven-year-old son, Jacob. "Um, hi," I said, my hair sticking up like shoveled hay.
"Hi," he said, not knowing what to make of this rumpled stranger in Mommy’s room.
"Mornin’!" Donna called from the kitchen. I walked into the room, startling her two-year-old nephew, Andrew, who was staying there for a few days. He was toddling around in a diaper and a t-shirt in the heat. With his shaggy blonde hair and mysterious blue eyes, he reminded me of a baby Val Kilmer. I sat down at her kitchen table as she said, "I’m gonna run to the store and take the boys. You can stay here and take a shower, although my daughter’ll probably freak out." Her daughter’s name is Jessica, too, and she was still asleep upstairs. Thankfully, she woke up and came down before her mom left, preventing any chaos.

Donna’s kids are so sweet. I fell for them immediately. When Donna and the boys came back from the store, proudly bearing donuts, I was showered and on the phone with my mom, assuring her I wasn’t dead. Jessica was hard at work in the kitchen making pancakes and bacon - she obviously knew the way into my heart is through salty pork. I regaled her and Jacob with stories of my run-ins with animals on the road - the butt-biting deer, my Dunkirk raccoon. We had a quarter-spinning contest as the bacon popped in the pan and Jessica told me about her guitar lessons. She was like Audri, a 14-year-old capable of holding an intelligent conversation with an adult. My favorite kind.

After breakfast Donna let me follow her into downtown for the Pride Parade. She didn’t stay, but she knew I would get lost otherwise - what a smart lady. She ran over to my window before turning back around, saying, "If you need a place to stay again tonight, feel free."
"I’ll probably take you up on that!" I said. Actually, I had been hoping she would offer, to the point where I didn’t even say goodbye to the kids because I figured I’d see them that night.

I parked and bounced over to the parade’s starting point, jubilantly high on gay pride and love for people. I wore some gold Mardi Gras beads I had been given the night before at Twist, blue jeans and a wife-beater. It was awesome! There were people in costumes, in drag, in cages on floats! There were signs saying, "Proud Bi-Sexual", "Proud PFLAG Dad" (PFLAG stands for Parents and Friends of Lesbians And Gays), even "Straight Guy For The Queer ‘I Do’". There were balloons. There were boas. There were beads. There were hot girls! I was in Big Gay Heaven.

I took a lot of pictures. I should have taken more of some of the shirts, the shirts were the best. A sampling of some of the guy’s shirts I saw:

I (heart) Dick
100% All-Beef Frank
I Kissed Your Brother
Gaywad
I Swear It’s This Big (with hands)
Scrumptious
Who’s Your Leather Daddy?

And the women’s shirts:

If It Has Tits Or Tires, You’re In Trouble
I (heart) Pussy
Ambiguous
I(heart) Boobs
I’m More Man Than You
Proud Lesbian

It was hilarious! My mistake was trying to seek out Toby - who told me he would be wearing a rainbow-printed shirt - in a crowd of Priders. Honestly, I was scanning the crowd thinking to myself, "Okay, big guy in a rainbow-colored shirt..... big guy in a rainbow-colore.....*sigh*.... I’m never gonna find him. This is like looking for a queer in a big gay haystack..... a gaystack...."

But eventually I found him. I took a picture of he and his friend Robert in the PFLAG Grand Marshal rocket and apologized for getting flustered at points during our interview the night before - Toby’s voice carries so much and some of our subject matter had been a little risque. I was worried that he was upset with me for blushing and tossed and turned over it the whole night. He assured me that he wasn’t offended but I do have to say: Toby, if you read this - again, I am so sorry! I adore you and don’t want you to think I have anything less than bunches of love and admiration for you in my heart!

The parade started and all kinds of music was blaring, from marching band staccatos to house music. People were dancing on the sidewalk and catching candy and bracelets thrown from the floats. At the last float, I joined in the parade - it was great! There were girls handing out fliers for a gay bar and I asked if I could help. A pretty girl in a brown t-shirt and brown trucker hat handed me a stack with a smile and soon I was bounding down Ontario Street, passing out fliers for a ladies’ night I’d never get to go to.

The parade ended in the usual mish-mash that parades do, with everyone crammed at the end and milling around, not knowing where to go. Eventually I made my way, along with my new gang o’ lesbian friends and we lined up to get in the gates. Maya, my be-browned trucker hat friend, introduced me to everyone, saying, "This is Jessica and she’s not from around here so we’re going to play with her today!" Most of them were drag kings, complete with fake goatees glued on and they looked awesome! I met all of them and they made me blush when they told me my trip was fabulous.

We got inside and I just tried to soak everything in. When I do that I get really quite and just look at stuff. After awhile I chatted with a great girl named Erin and she told me all about her ex-girlfriend problems. Actually, ex-girlfriend problems seemed to be the underlying theme of everything these girls were talking about and I was reminded of my conversation with Gay Steve earlier in the week when he said, "Women can’t let go, they just hang on forever. Guys have closure and they move on, and it’s done. But, lesbians, my god, they hang on til the bitter end and beyond." Still, the girls were so sweet and I was touched that they would open up to me about the drama.

It was cool to see how many children there were, especially with two gay parents. They were some of the happiest kids I’d ever seen.

At about 5:00 a DJ set up in a side parking lot and started spinning hip-hop. Guess what little cracker did not leave that lot until the music shut off? Yeah, that would be me. It was unforgettable because I just started dancing all by myself and pretty soon all these little black girls were sandwiching me, but they didn’t look like girls! These two that got me at one point, they looked to be about 13. They literally looked like two 13-year-old boys. It was so awesomely different! And there were some amazing dancers there, it was really cool to watch them. I ended up getting separated from Maya and the gang because they had no interest in hip-hop, but it was cool. After a little while of dancing with the little drag kings - I called them drag princes - and dancing by myself, this beautiful black girl approached me. I guess she could be considered a drag king, too, very masculine-ly dressed and her hair was in cornrows. Her caramel skin was smooth and tiny beads of sweat dotted the nape of her neck. She came right up to me and found the beat, and soon we were showing everybody else how it’s done.

"What’s your name?" she asked after a few songs. Hers was Jennifer. We wore each other out. At one point a song she loved came on and she stepped away to join a group of other girls who were doing some kind of step something-or-other dance, yelling, "This my jam! Aww, this is my shit right here!" I tried to follow her but was intercepted by a large black woman who grabbed my hand, saying, "No, honey! I been watchin’ you! You comin’ over here with me for a minute!"

She led me over to another part of the lot and called to her friend, a larger black woman, "Look, I got the blonde girl! I got her! Come on!" The two of them....kind of..... attacked me. I was laughing hysterically at the situation because in all my life I never thought I’d be double-teamed by a pair of ginormus black women. The bigger one was in front of me and bent all the way over, putting her fingertips on the pavement and pushing her backside into my crotch. Oddly enough, I was loving it! I mean, it’s not an experience I would have sought out, but I came out on the road to experience new things and that was definitely something new! I was laughing so hard I almost lost the beat.

And, okay, I lied earlier, I actually did leave the dance lot for a little bit - after I wrestled free from the Double-Freak Twins, I couldn’t find Jennifer so I wandered over to the mainstage to see an act that was performing there. I am hereby ensuring a barrage of insults from one Max Glass by saying this, but I intentionally stood in front of the stage at a Kimberly Locke (American Idol II runner-up) show..... yes, I just outed myself: I am a Kimberly Locke fan.

It was hilarious, it was me and a bunch of queens all standing around and "Wooooooo!-ing" as she came out and started singing some backbeat-laden, synthesized pop power ballad and it was awesome! I sang along to the ones I knew and called Jojo’s cell to agonize him with music I know he hates. And yes, I am officially a geek.

After Kimberly's set, I went back to the dance lot and stumbled across Jennifer again. "I thought you left me, boo," she whispered in my ear.
"No, honey, I just went to be girly for a sec."
We danced for the rest of the evening, until the music was shut off and all the priders were kicked out of the grounds and out onto the streets of Cleveland. Jennifer gave me her number and I called her so she would have mine. "I had a great time with you, thanks so much," I said.
"Me, too," she said.

I smiled and was about to walk away when she held onto my arms, sliding her fingers down to my hands. She leaned in and kissed me softly, tasting sweet like creme brulee. It was surprisingly wonderful. I caught my breath and stepped in closer, cupping her face in my hands. (Yes, Grandma, I sometimes kiss girls.) A loud "whoop!" carried over the crowd as all of Jennifer’s friends shouted, "Daaaaaamn, homey!", watching us. I blushed immediately - I’m not used to causing a scene just by kissing someone.
"How old are you?" I asked her as I pulled back.
"Sixteen."
"Wow. Wow, I gotta go." I suddenly felt like a haggard old woman. Seriously, what is it with me going for younger people? If cradle-robbing were a sport I swear I would be an Olympian. I would be an MVP.

I booked out of the gate and called Donna, making sure I could stay with her again. "Sure, come on home, and later I’ll take you to a bonfire at my friend’s!" she said. As I walked back to my car, all the way back to the start of the parade route, I ran into Jennifer again. "Hey, baby," she whispered. "Well, I guess talking to her can’t be that evil since I’ll probably never see her again," I thought to myself, and we fell into step. She walked me to my car and we got to know each other a little. She told me about growing up in inner-city Cleveland, how her mom cries because her daughter is gay, about her upcoming court date. "What are you being charged with?" I asked.
"Felony drug-trafficking."
"What?!" I looked at her - she was just a baby. She still has a tiny bit of baby fat on her smooth, hazelnut jawline.
"But I didn’t do nothing!" she cried. "I ain’t guilty! But if they find me guilty I’m gonna get locked up in a juvenile detention center til I’m 21. That’ll be four years and three months." She said it matter-of-fact, as though she weren’t scared at all. I asked her if she was.
"Naw, I ain’t scared. I can take care of my own."

She amazed me. Here was this tough-as-nails little girl, with enough balls to come out to her mother at age 12, hardened on the streets of the poorest city in the country, 16 years old and already facing felony charges - with no fear. My heart felt heavy just trying to understand what it must be like to live under those circumstances - I couldn’t. I mean, I cried when I had to go to court for a $26 ticket for a seat-belt violation. She was so beautiful even in her baggy clothes, like a child playing dress-up in daddy’s closet. I marveled at her for the last few blocks. I may never fully understand what it’s like to live in her shoes, but I respect her strength.

She kissed me goodbye before I got in the car and I could taste hints of cinnamon gum on her tongue. "I ain’t never gonna see you again, am I, baby?" she asked me.
"You never know, honey. Maybe you might."
She pulled me closer to her. "I don’t wanna let you go."
"Well, you better get home before it gets dark. I worry about you." (Damn, there goes the mom in me, ruining even romantic moments.... "She. Is. Six. TEEN!" was about the only thought going through my head at that point.)
"Okay, baby," she said. "I don’t want to make you worry."
She kissed me one more time and squeezed my hand as I whispered, "‘Bye..."

I spun quick on my heel so I wouldn’t have to watch her walk away, thinking, "Jessica, you are a terrible person. You are SO going to Hell!" I plopped into the car and drove back to Donna’s house, where she and the kids were sitting on the porch, chatting with the neighbors and waiting for me. On the way, I contemplated my sins of the day and justified it by vowing to be a positive role model for Jennifer if she needed it - a voice of reason, someone to remind her to do her homework and beg her to quit smoking. From a distance, of course. Maybe then I won’t go straight to Hell, at least Satan may let me take the scenic route.

Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory...

This is pre-emptive, because I haven't even gotten to write about the rest of my time in Cleveland, but I HAVE GOT to say this:

Jack Kerouac wrote in his book, "On The Road", "...the prettiest girls in the world live in Des Moines."

Well, for the record, THE HOTTEST GUYS IN THE WORLD ALL LIVE IN CINCINNATI!!! HOLY GOD!!!


(also, for some reason my photo upload program isn't working right now so I can't post any pics....grrrr)

I Heart Toby Radloff!

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame closes at five-thirty and then I made my way back over to Lakewood to meet Toby. I found the place and went inside, heart beating out of my chest. I was so nervous! I was also ridiculously early and then I had a fight with myself over whether to order something then or wait til Toby got there - I ended up totally shooting myself in the foot by overanalyzing it (as per usual) and getting the smallest thing in the shop, a Red Bull. As soon as I popped the top, Toby came in. It was awesome! He gave me a hug and said, "It’s nice to meet you." I was in nerd heaven! So, Red Bull popped, I offered to buy Toby a drink and he got a $4.00 smoothie. I had three dollars in cash. There’s a five dollar limit on credit cards. So I ordered a large iced coffee too. Guess who COULD NOT sleep that night? I should have just waited for him....

We sat on the couches in the front of the place and I got out my tape recorder. Toby is so fabulous! He’s fun to talk to, too. He gives a lot of detail about himself without much prodding, which is cool. Here are some excerpts from our conversation:

J: When you were doing "American Splendor", was it odd for you when Judah Freidlander was preparing for the role? Meaning, did you help him out at all?

T: I helped him a lot. I helped him a lot. I met Judah the first time ever in the restaurant of the Stouffer Tower Hotel and from there they had him cut his hair - he had that long, black, shoulder-length hair and they cut it so it looked almost like me and they had to dye it to match mine. He watched "Killer Nerd" and "Bride of Killer Nerd" and "Townies" and some of my MTV spots so he could learn my voice and they - Sherry Springer Berman and Robert [something] set the role up for him to play me, it was almost like he was my twin brother. And for Judah it was probably one of the best-known roles he’d ever done to that point ‘cause when he was in movies he’d only be in a movie for a few minutes so it was like the longest he’d been in a movie. He’s doing a movie that’s at Sundance now but it hasn’t opened here yet. I try to catch up with any movie that Judah Friedlander’s been in. And he does a lot of stand-up, I haven’t seen his stand-up because he was supposed to have made a couple of appearances here at the Improv but he had to cancel because of film commitments. And I’m on Judah’s website mailing list and he is to let me know when he comes to town again.

J: Well, how was it helping someone prepare to play you? Was it odd for you?

T: It was at first but I got used to it.

J: That’s cool. Have you seen "Napoleon Dynamite"?

T: I’ve seen it a few times, I bought the DVD. It’s an interesting film.

J: How do you think it compares to "Revenge of the Nerds"?

T: It’s more like a real-life story, because the guy really is a nerd. I think they used a bunch of students from Brigham Young to play the students. It has the feel of a low-budget, independent film rather than a big-budget film. But it has it’s own cult following, since it’s been out for about a year now. And the cult following came about from the way Twentieth Century Fox promoted it. So "Napoleon Dynamite" is a pretty successful film. I like John Heder, the guy that played Napoleon.

J: Cool. But it’s no "Revenge of the Nerds"?

T: It’s more like a real-life "Revenge of the Nerds".

J: And how many times did you say you’ve seen "Revenge of the Nerds"?

T: A little over 40.

J: And out of that, how many times did you drive to Toledo to go see it?

T: I did that three times. I drove my car. And even after it opened in Cleveland I drove to Toledo for the sake of driving to Toledo to go see it. I like going on road trips in the car.

J: Me too.

T: Yeah, and back then I was driving a gas-guzzling Oldsmobile but gasoline was a hell of a lot cheaper back then than it is now. But now I drive a Geo Metro that gets about 35 miles to the gallon, I’m happy with it.

J: Describe your relationship with Harvey (Pekar) now that Harvey’s retired. Do you see him
still?

T: Well, Harvey and Joyce lead a pretty much private life. All the publicity from "American Splendor" is behind them, although Harvey does make occasional appearances on college campuses.

J: You do that as well, don’t you?

T: Yeah, I was at Carnegie Mellon, I was at William and Mary in Virginia. Wayne Harold, the guy that did "Townies", has been setting up some stuff for me and I’ve got another guy at Case Western Reserve that’s setting up something for me in the fall. I’m going to be showing the original 1984 "Revenge of the Nerds" and donating an original "Revenge of the Nerds" movie poster that I’ve got hanging on my wall as a prize. I’m not gonna hang it in the apartment because I want to keep the apartment spotless.

J: And describe a typical appearance for you.

T: I basically talk about myself, I show a movie like "Townies" or "American Splendor", and when it’s over with I do a Q&A. At the Case Western one I gave iPods away. The student senate or student union or whatever got the iPods and asked me to give them away as door prizes.

J: Wow, I bet that was fun.

T: Yeah, I ended up giving away about 20 iPods. Now if only I could get an iPod for myself.

J: True!

T: Yeah. Well, anyway, "American Splendor" did well. I’ve known Harvey for 25 years almost. He started writing about me in the early 80's. I first appeared in "American Splendor #9" - it came out in about 1983 or 84 - and I was on the cover, talking about lentils and lent, which appeared in the movie, and inside I talked about a few other things and it led to my driving to Toledo, I told Harvey I saw an ad for "Revenge of the Nerds" and I wanted to go see it so bad but I was worried that it would not open in Cleveland.

J: And he and Joyce went with you at one point, didn’t they?

T: No, that was set up for the film. They did not go with me when I saw "Revenge of the Nerds". That was dramatized for the film.

J: Oh, my goodness. Now I’m embarrassed.

T: But I drove myself, I told Harvey about it. And that comment that Harvey made about the ethnic ghetto, Harvey mentioned that tongue-in-cheek to me but in the film his character expressed it in anger.

J: How long did it take to film?

T: About two months. They started shooting right after 9/11.

J: Wow. Did that change the atmosphere on the set at all?

T: A little. The contracts were signed before 9/11 happened, then 9/11 happened and they put a clause on the contracts saying that if there was a terrorist attack, that they were not responsible or something like that. And at the time there was a lot of fear that someone would crash airplanes into nuclear power plants or that al-Queda would somehow get ahold of an atomic bomb. But already almost four years have passed since 9/11 and Homeland Security is doing a really good job preventing another 9/11 from happening. They really made flying safer. I’ve done more flying since 9/11 than I did before it. I feel very safe flying.

J: Me too. When was the last time somebody recognized you on the street?

T: Couple days ago.

J: Does that happen a lot?

T: Off and on. It’s like, I could go to a state fair or I could go to a Wal-mart or something, no one would recognize me. That’s because I was in an independent film. Basically, "American Splendor" reached the right kind of audience. The people who have seen the film saw it because they have an interest in me or in Harvey Pekar. I’m just glad it wasn’t the kind of film that opened in 3,500 theatres at once. Then there’d be all kinds of people wanting to talk to me.

J: Does it.... bother you... that people want... to talk to you?

T: Sometimes. But it only really bothers me if I’m in the middle of doing something and someone approaches me with an immature attitude. Like, I have gotten a couple of crank calls as a result of my being in the film. But the crank calls they’re... like, I had one guy, he was trying to talk the way I talk in the movie, with a more mechanical-like voice. And he was making comments about "Star Wars: Episode III". And "Star Wars", I’m not really into that or Star Trek or sci-fi in general. I’m more into fiction, I’m not a sci-fi nerd or a horror-nerd or anything like that. I’m a creative nerd.

J: How would you define a nerd?

T: Someone who’s different. Someone whose ideas are different. Someone who gets picked on a lot because they don’t agree with your ideas. But you’re still proud of yourself and what you’ve accomplished. That’s a nerd.

J: So would you.... nevermind. I was gonna ask you something but I won’t.

T: Go ahead.

J: Well... I ... I was gonna ask... would you consider me a nerd? Because I’m out here on my own?

T: In a way, yeah. There are woman nerds. There are woman nerds. You’d be considered a nerd because you’re out there collecting stories about people you meet in your travels.

J: You know what, that’s awesome. I’m proud to be considered a nerd by you, Toby.

T: Yeah, that’s why I feel comfortable about telling the truth about myself.

J: How long did it take for you to get to that point?

T: Not too long, really, ‘cause I’m the kind of person who’s honest. I like who I am and I tell the truth about myself.

Random Thoughts from my journal....

I’m an Anne of Green Gables girl living in a Paris Hilton world...


I feel fat but beautiful, does that mean I’m a grown-up?


She feels like setting fire to this life


Take what you can from your dreams - make them as real as anything.


It’s funny how you find you enjoy your life when you’re happy to be alive!

One of my favorite places in the world, The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Cleveland, OH. 

The Great Lakes Science Center and part of the Cleveland Browns Stadium, as seen from in front of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. 

Shot from the fourth floor of the Hall of Fame. 

"You don't get any pudding!!" - This balloon actually yells at you as you walk under "The Wall". 

I'm Lovin' It!

The next day was Friday and I set back out for Cleveland. I said thanks and goodbye to Earl and Chris with a promise to come back and visit. Earl said, "If you ever need anything, even money, just call me. And if you come back to Sandusky and need a place to stay, you know my door is never locked. You can just come on in." Chris waved a forlorn goodbye from the porch after I hugged him. It was so bittersweet. I followed Earl out to the highway and waved as I went straight and he turned to go to work. God, I love getting to meet nice people everywhere I go!

I made awesome time to Cleveland and got to the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame by noon. That gave me five and a half hours to dick around in there and I used every second of it! I love that place. It’s a museum that I could go to one day and then go back to the next day and still be as in awe of everything as the day before. I adore it. If you ever get a chance to go, do it.

There was an incredible 3-floor "Tommy" exhibit that featured a great documentary on The Who and the album, as well as displays and various artifacts from the era. My favorite was an ad for an outdoor concert featuring a spliced picture of Pete Townsend playing leapfrog with a cartoon bear in a cartoon meadow. I also loved the displays of clothes that Roger Daltry wore, which were all smaller than I thought they’d be.

The rest of the museum is to die for, I’m serious. They’ve got everything - Jeff Buckley’s diary, Michael Jackson’s sparkly glove, Jimi Hendrix’s childhood drawings, Tom Petty’s Mad Hatter hat from the "Don’t Come Around Here No More" video, and even the green plaid outfit that Andre 3000 wore for the "Hey Ya!" video! They literally have Every. Freakin’. Thing.

People were laughing at me behind my back as I was at the listening station, singing along and bopping to "The Love I Lost", but I didn’t care - dance like no one’s watching, as they say.

Yay! I caught a fish! 

I caught a pretty one.