2021: My Year of Owning It (Part 1)

I may possibly edit this with visually appealing pictures, or do an addendum with more details. However, Dear Reader, I really wanted to get this out there before midnight, and nothing motivates me like a deadline. I also want to go to the pool and hot tub because I booked myself a room at The Westin, which is my happy place. I cannot afford to do such an impulsive thing. That is the first thing I will own

I had to re-learn a lot of lessons this year. My most important one is that my life is not a Real Housewives show, that individual friendships matter more than the group, or who is the queen bee of the group, or who likes who better in the group. But maybe it's the nature of gay men that we do this. In any case, I went from being a Season 7 Dorinda Medley to a Season 11 Dorinda Medley, and it was truly sad. Lisa Rinna, on another housewives show, always talks about "owning it". So with this, I can only hope to begin owning it.

I went on a medical leave for the month of March, in a way to save my job as my attendance was dismal. I planned to be lucrative and healthy that month. Then I wouldn't get paid for it, and not knowing where your money is coming from is not very good for your mental health. And thus, I pretended to live like nothing was wrong, even though I technically didn't have a job (other than freelance delivery driving for UberEATS).

Because of COVID-19, my dear friend Erin couldn't go back to London right away, and it was a lovely benefit to have here as long as we did. She, Jared, Jayden and I playing Mystery Date was a highlight of the year. Erin, Jared, and I went out to eat at The Loop, which was known to be a "hotspot". I stress that this was at the end of March, and I had a vaccine booked at a pharmacy that I knew would be on the way to Treasure Island Casino. Speaking of casinos, my mother drove my father to one three hours away to get his vaccine, and I declined her offer.

The weekend before I was going to return to work, my friend Elijah was planning a surprise birthday party for our friend Duke. I am going to let you know how complicated this group was by the number of names I will drop.

The party was at Robin's house. I was going to go with Jayden, even though at the last minute we both expressed feelings of uneasiness. Jayden was sort of on the outs with Lee, who he felt acted differently whenever he hung out with Kelly, who played a very exaggerated version of Jayden in a play I wrote once. I didn't share the same perception, although did find it odd that they seemed to only speak in Schitt's Creek quotes as if it was their own language. Also, last time Duke was drunk he had offended my 21-year-old friend baby gay Kennedy, and I wanted Kennedy to condone that I was going to this party before I went. He did, because Kennedy was the youngest but was somehow the most emotionally mature out of all of us. I was excited for the surprise party even though I felt pangs of sadness because the happiest day of my life was when Steve threw me one, and that was a different life. Everything went off without a hitch, Duke was surprised, we sang karaoke, Elijah brought delicious food, and when we played games I got to sit by Robin's hunky fiance, who we somehow kept giving random Canadian surnames.

All was well in my gay corner of the world, and I was excited to go back to work and cherish the opportunity and second chance to be perceived as a functional adult in the world.

And then, well ...

Just as Icarus burned by flying too close to the sun, I thought I was invincible after almost making it to my first vaccine. And I got COVID. So did Jared, because he couldn't smell cologne. I think we got it from The Loop. And then I gave it to half the party, including Duke (happy birthday!), Robin and his fiance (thanks for having us!), and someone else who then spread it to his sister.

Thankfully, none of them experienced major symptoms and were healthy after their quarantine.

As for me, I got it bad. Worse than my bout of Influenza B during that Valentine's Day, or my bout of Influenza A during that St. Patrick's Day. No, this COVID on Easter kicked my ass. Also, what is with it with my health and spring holidays???

I felt so bad for my boss and co-workers, who now had to see my return delayed for another two weeks. I felt so bad for everyone at the party. And I didn't want to feel bad for myself, but I did feel bad for my mother, who essentially saved my life. Because she is a nurse at North Memorial, I got VIP treatment when I visited to get fluids after a week, as I could not keep a damn thing down. It hurt to even swallow. 

During some nights, I thought I would die from it.

I realized during those nights that I didn't care if I did, and it would be easier for my loved ones than if I died by suicide.

I lashed out at my health-conscious friend Casey when he said he wasn't surprised I got it. He was gracious enough to accept my apology, and understand that I was only upset about his comment because I was really sick, and if I wasn't then I might have thought it was funny.

The mental illness and depression never went away. I also learned that I could not drink the way I did anymore, as I could no longer remember names and conversations I had after one or two, and my attitude and demeanor changed me into a mean drunk.

But did I stop, Dear Reader? No. And now we continue to Own It.

I went out after my first vaccination, which was stupid. I ran into Steve. I wasn't used to seeing Steve out in the wild, even though I had plenty of time to get used to it. He was newly single, and bought a house. He is seven years younger than me. Millennials only have something like 12% of the housing market, I read in an incredibly depressing New York Times article about a Brooklyn couple trying to buy a house in Austin. His success should have made me feel nothing but happiness, and instead I felt sad, jealous, and pining for a life I didn't necessarily want.

I tortured that man for years. He started hanging out with Lee a lot, and it felt like Lee stopped inviting me to things. I felt weird about this because I thought Lee and I were rather close, but it had to all have been in my head. Lee wouldn't have stopped hanging out with me because of Steve. That is stupid. How insecure would I be to think that?

A month later, I met up with Reid at The Saloon during Pride Version 1.0 (Minneapolis basically had two Prides, but the second fell on my birthday and the busiest season of work). We said hi to Lee, and then he walked away and moved, and I realized Steve was with him. They both walked away. It was still all in my head, and I wanted to see my friend Seth anyway! Seth was helping me plan my birthday party and used to live with Steve, Emilio, and Emilio's hunky 20-year-old boyfriend Josh, who is a very good singer. I got drunk and tried to kiss Josh once and felt terrible and sent them both a gift card and a note and it was never discussed again. 

I went back into the bar, which was the last thing I should be doing. Kennedy walked up to me full of exuberance. "Hi, Mom!" he cried. (He is my baby gay and calls me Mommy, and this isn't weird at all. You're weird). "Let's hang out soon just me and you. I hope it isn't awkward that I came here with Lee and Steve."

"Oh my god, no, of course not," I lied through gritted teeth. NOW IT WAS AWKWARD. BECAUSE NOW I KNEW.

An hour later, I made an absolute fucking ass of myself on the patio when Steve asked Kennedy if he wanted a ride. He meant back to Lee's where his car was parked, but in my tequila-soaked wisdom, I thought he meant something completely different.

"GO FUCK HIM," I yelled loud enough that people staying at The Hampton Inn could hear. "GO. I DOIN'T CARE. YOU'RE SINGLE AND I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. HAVE A GREAT TIME."

"You're insane," Steve whispered and they both left.

Kennedy texted me the next day and said we needed to talk. I was hung over and working at the outlet store in a different city, so I was already in a mood. "No, we don't," I said. "I'm embarrassed and you don't owe me anything.":

"But I'm your friend and you screamed at me," Kennedy said.

"I'm sorry I did that," I said.

"I wasn't going to sleep with Steve," Kennedy said.

"It's none of my business," I said, and that was the truth.

"But I wouldn't do that to you," Kennedy said, and for the second time this year, I couldn't figure out how my youngest friend was the most direct and emotionally mature out of anyone I knew.

Steve even forgave me and graciously invited me to his post-Pride party, and there wasn't any drama at all until the end, when our perpetually shirtless friend William gave me the business for basically inviting myself, and then I felt really embarrassed and stupid. I was only there to see the dog, anyway.

July: It Gets Worse, And Not Just Because I Turn 35

Kennedy, Piano Man, Jayden and I went to a 4th of July drag brunch on the CRAVE rooftop, where Seth was planning my upcoming birthday party. I hadn't seen Piano Man in person for a while, and he still oozed sex. It was also hot as hell, and I don't know how the hell those drag queens didn't get heatstroke. "I didn't know this was outdoors," I apologetically told everyone as I chugged an entire pitcher of water.

"You're so obviously into him," Kennedy giggled.

"I am only woman," I demurred.

When it was over, Piano Man drove back to Red Wing, where he was staying with his family. Jayden declined a ride home from Kennedy and walked elsewhere. We giggled that he was getting laid. He even turned off his location. "Good for him," I declared, and thanked Kennedy for the ride home as he left to work his managerial shift at Zumie's, because that is what you do when you are a Gen-Z gay. I stopped in once and felt like a grandparent, but I still bought socks that say FUCK IT and I have no shame.

I would see later on Snapchat that Jayden had gone to Lee's to play games. I was not invited. Jayden had earlier expressed dismay that he wasn't invited to things. I did not take this well. I said terrible things in anger. It got so bad that Jayden wasn't even going to go to my birthday party. How eighth grade was this?

Seth planned my birthday party at CRAVE. I got drunk and cancelled it because I was mad. Seth was beyond livid at me. I put the event link back up, and my friends were confused as hell but understanding about it. Jayden and I even reconciled, as Reid was a good Judy and helped explain his possible perspective to me. I think it can be a good thing to have the strong feelings I have, but it is not good to express those feelings in a way that hurts others.

As for my party, Seth did a masterful job of planning it -- then said he was sick and didn't show up! It still went off without a hitch. Jared even showed up first! Reid, Jared, and my parents sat at my table, as did my hunky friend Bryce, who looks like a sexy lumberjack. Steve came with Randall, Chuck and Raymond, and later my friends Denzil and Ashley showed up. My brother bought his own posse, including his nonsexual life partner Art, and they sat with Jayden, who showed up and brought his sister! All was well and I learned the importance of grace and forgiveness. Reid and Jared missed the group photo because they were out smoking. Everyone gave me wonderful gifts. Randall got me a Trish Stratus T-shirt, Chuck and Raymond got me enough Listerine strips and candy to last me at least a month, and my brother gave me a beautiful airbrushed drawing of my beloved tortoise shell cat, Penny Ann. 

But cycles kept repeating themselves, and we finally got to the pinnacle of every Real Housewives season: THE GROUP TRIP! In which I was even worse than Dorinda. I was the Ramona! Which we will get to when I get back from the hotel tonight, because there are three hours left of 2022 and I want go to the hot tub, get decently pretty, get my outfit together, and somehow make it to The Saloon, where I will not scream at anyone or drunk message Steve or wallow in self-pity.

Next episode: The highs and lows of the group trip, Reid's exciting new ventures, and the most devastating loss of all.

Unsent

 I acted like a fool and a jerk in many ways and I believe in owning my shit and that I acted badly and hurtful to you. I am embarrassed and sorry for that. There is no “but this” about my behavior. I screamed at you on your birthday. I said many cruel things in the months before that, things that I had no right to say and things that I had no right to have an opinion about how much they would hurt you even if I was “just mad”. I was 34, not 17.

I can also be beyond hurt that the day you found out my cat was dying and I lost my health insurance, you told me I was toxic and you didn’t want to be my friend anymore after a disagreement that happened over Snapchat, where text is often misconstrued. To be fair, I drunk messaged you *again* and said awful things that are shameful and ridiculous. I do not defend or excuse this abusive behavior. You unfriended me on every social media platform, as is your right.

*Then* you sent me a card, postmarked from Minneapolis when you got back from your recent trip, thanking me for being on your last trip before that. This is *after* you had unfriended me on everything. I can not feasibly contact you in any way to discuss this discrepancy other than in person, which I feel is playing into the narrative of my behavior being erratic. I was confused by it, I was hurt by it, and I will never understand your intention. Did you write it before the fight? Was your roommate supposed to send them out and forgot? Or was it to be one last dig? I stared at that envelope for two days before opening it.

You still show up in my search bar, from “Friend” to “Person”, 481 mutuals be damned. I’m just trying to get my Monopoly Slots coins for the day. 

I am not a victim of anything but my own poor behavior. I am also allowed to feel hurt and confused.

#76: Cliffs Notes

 -I got COVID in April and my brain has never been the same.,

-After the world fully re-opened, Lee started hanging out with Steve and stopped hanging out with me.

-We went to Chicago for Jayden's birthday.

-Jayden and I broke up and I am mourning it worse than I will any other loss of my life.

-I will write all about this in longform when I am ready.

Untitled Episode #75: 3 A.M.

 I will soon write of April 2021 -- and how I lived and almost died. That is dramatic, but the spoiler alert is that I got COVID and so did many of my peers but I am the only one who, to my knowledge, was actually sick. And I was already technically sick before that, because I went on FMLA leave at my job for bipolar disorder. The joy of mental health treatment in America is that I was deemed mentally ill enough to have my job protected for a month, but not mentally ill enough to be compensated for it.

It went well.

I went to The Saloon tonight because I left my coat there on Friday. I was not planning to go The Saloon on Friday, either. I met up with my friend Randall at The Eagle because his friends were taking too long and because I had a bad day at work, I had decided I was going to go to Mystic. Thankfully, I chose a different negative coping skill and met up with Randall instead, where we were reunited with our friend Malcolm, who is an improv and writer genius in the city. There was also a nice man who insisted on buying our drinks and was very nice. I was self-conscious because I was scruffy. However, i wasn't too worried about my appearance because it was The Eagle and The Eagle closes at 11.

I'm going to be at The Saloon in an hour, said my text from Ron.

Ron is my friend who lives in California and looks like an Abercrombie & Fitch bag from 2004. I think of us as good friends, and when we interact one-on-one, I am not particularly nervous. But in a group or club setting I feel weird about it, because he is my friend who can't help it that he is offensively attractive, and I have feelings about feelings. But I didn't even know he was in town!

Randall, our friend Miguel, and the man who insisted on buying our drinks and cover (who was very nice and told me to stop being jittery) went to The Saloon, and Ron didn't get there until 12:15 A.M. and he did not have a shirt on and I jumped in his arms and it was lovely even though an old man next to me quipped "Quit drooling", and I felt self-conscious but also upset. The only reason I know Ron is because of the gig I got at the Gay '90s in which I narrated tacky gay porn in a bar that was attached to the men's bathroom. And the only reason I got that gig, which is one of the rare gigs I have ever had that required a 1099, is because I was ostensibly talented and could draw people to a venue.

This was all supposed to be in a later blog that I actually work on. I am supposed to be talking about 3 A.M.

Because I had gone to The Saloon on Friday, I had lost my coat. It was not expensive or fancy but it was a spring jacket! I did not go The Saloon on Saturday because I had a Truly Citrus at Chuck and Raymond's house and it turns out that stuff causes an allergic reaction, and I was not about to show up at The Saloon after four Zyrtecs and two Benadryls. 

But I went tonight, and I was relieved that tonight was low-key than Friday and Saturday. (Friday was bumpin, and I heard Saturday was even busier! People have been pent-up like crazy!). Nothing eventful happened other than I found my coat, hung out with my friends like Lee and Carl, and my coat was recovered.

Lee lives in a high-rise on Marquette, and Carl lives a block away. We walked to Lee's place and I walked home, which I was fine with because I had just bought $19.97 headphones from Target, which are different than the $200 Airbuds my mother bought me and told me to never leave the apartment while carrying them. I walked by Nicollet and Marquette and saw the clock almost reading 3 A.M. on the dot.

I am overkilling the point, I guess, that I was born at 3 A.M., precisely, on July 15th, when I was supposed to be born on August 23rd. It is the only time I was very early for anything. (BA DA BUM BUM CHING) Also, me?? A Virgo??? I do find it fascinating that as an adult I would be close friends with someone born on August 22, but bygones.

My mother was studying for her nursing boards at The Radisson in St. Paul that night. I had my prom there and she shared that her water broke there. She was "twice as big" as she should have been but said she just couldn't resist Dairy Queen.

Anyway, her water broke at midnight. Her friend Sara rushed her to the hospital and my father raced there. I was born at 3 A.M., on the dot. I thought I knew everything about this story there was to tell, but it was only last year that my mother casually shared, "They grabbed you right away. They wouldn't let me hold you." I will never know what it is to give birth, and I can't imagine the panic she must have felt, delivering a child a month and two weeks early with no explanation.

I was 4 pounds and 6 ounces. The placenta never came out. The doctors whispered to each other. Then, according to the family lore, they looked at my mother and one of them said, "Okay, Mrs. Emmert. We figured it out. There's another baby in there."

And according to my mother, a large nurse pinned her down and screamed "PUSH!" in her face, because I can only assume that giving birth is not something you want to repeat all over again, but she did. My twin brother was born, only three ounces heavier than me, at 3:19 A.M.

My Uncle Mark was living at home when this happened. He says he remembers Grandma Shirley, who was only 49 at the time, answering the phone at 5:30 in the morning. "Twins?" he remembers her responding on the phone call. "Twins????"

She drove from Blaine to Osseo to pick up my Grandma Jeanne, and famously forgot the gas cap at the gas station.

Dane and me with Shirley's mother, Great-Grandma Julia. She lived to be 103 and was very superstitious. To this day, I will not wear socks to bed or open umbrellas indoors.

It is vain of me to speak of my birth as if it was a stupendous event. It's not like my birth was like The Star. 

I am a chronic night owl. Seeing 3 A.M. on a clock, majestically in the heart of downtown, on the heels of another Mother's Day in which I could not afford to buy my mother a nice gift, caused uncomfortable reflection. I could only think of the mother who has been subsidizing much of my life because of my own poor decisions and unwillingness to correct them, the mother whom I resented and blamed for all of my academic failures, the mother who was too overwhelmed with dealing with the imminent death of her untreated mentally ill mother to adequately be the mother her untreated mentally ill son needed at 20 years old, the mother who faced a horrifying situation at 3 A.M. when she was not even a full eight months pregnant and pushed anyway.

Loring Park Episode #74: The Summer That Wasn't

I overslept on Memorial Day. I do not remember if I was supposed to work and was again exhibiting the tired behavior of showing up hours late, if at all, for my shifts; the store had been closed since St. Patrick’s Day, my pay was cut, and I felt ambivalent and resentful (although grateful for benefits and podcasts). I overspent any stimulus money on ridiculous and embarrassing alcohol-fueled acts of hedonism that I knew were really spurred by chronic loneliness. It had been almost two years since I pretended I had a boyfriend. He moved on publicly, and I reacted publicly, to the detriment of myself and everyone around me. Reid and I mutually agreed to not renew our lease in Whittier but we still had two months left, and I was in my twin bed in a tiny room. I hadn’t even started looking at new apartments.

All of these problems that seemed massive enough to keep me in bed all day would not matter the day George Floyd was murdered by a Minneapolis policeman outside of Cup Foods that afternoon. We all reacted differently to the events that unfolded the next few days. Reid got drunk that night and went live online for the web talk show we had been hosting. Later that night, he expressed contrition. “What am I doing?” he asked me through tears. “How is this helping anything?” As the days went on, he became a vigilante of sorts, patrolling our neighborhoods at night and watching the small businesses near our street corner; New York Slice of Pizza, Harm’s Convenience Store, Pimento’s. He went to protests on Lake Street, which started peaceful and escalated into fiery violence, while I sat in our living room and watched it unfold on MSNBC. A pick-up truck with an Oklahoma license plate was now parked in front of our building, in a way that suggested the driver had never parked in a city before, and also didn’t care. I was most unnerved by the cars with no license plates that were driving around our neighborhood. Whittier is between uptown and downtown and isn’t super close to the freeway -- not that it would matter, because the city had implemented a curfew.

The first day of the curfew, Joey and I went to Mystic Lake. I was working at his store on its first day of opening after COVID, and they closed their doors again at 2 P.M. that afternoon. I felt so bad for the store manager, who I had known since a September afternoon in 2008. We were actually winning when we got a text at 5 PM saying Minneapolis was going into lockdown curfew at 8 PM! Mystic was an hour away from the city! Lee lives in a high-rise with his roommate, a psychiatric nurse named Sonny who looks like the cutest smart kid in your science class. He graciously invited us to spend the night there in the name of safety concerns. Joey and I raced to Culver’s and the liquor store, and I packed like our homes were going to be on fire, the way buildings would eventually be on Lake Street. “You don’t need your laptop,” Joey admonished. I packed it anyway, and other things I would not use during my one night having a slumber party at Lee’s. We managed to get there by 7 so we could watch the finale of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Lee doesn’t watch the show regularly but decided that night his favorite was Jaida Essence Hall, who won and made the Midwest proud. I watched most episodes of the season at my parents’ house, and she was their favorite, too. Joey yelled at me for making a mess at Lee’s and throwing my shit everywhere like we were staying at a hotel. We spoke of our own pasts and traumas and silently cried as the city continued to burn. Joey and I went to the memorial site a few weeks later. There was still a lot of international media there, and a sense of solemnity and respect. We also knew better to not take selfies, a somewhat annoying phenomenon from well-meaning white people who should know better.

Although delayed another week, my store opened again. Pride was cancelled, but I filmed two horrible stand-up sets, one from Lee’s balcony and one from my parents’ guest room. The former never saw the light of day, and the latter was for Columbia Heights Pride. I formed a little sextet with Chuck, Raymond, Charlie, Joey and Randall, and we often had quiet nights in playing board games (and one night at Vegas Lounge where I won pull tabs, went to my brother’s apartment, and we got in a big stupid fight). Chuck and Raymond redid their basement and have a dart board for whenever we miss the 19.

A friend of mine was having a going-away party. It was at the same house Steve lived in. I ate shit and apologized to Jaxon. Conversely to Steve’s beliefs, I didn’t do it because I wanted to go to the party. Yes, I wanted to go to the party, but only if things were copacetic. “It will be awkward for everyone,” Steve had said, and I didn’t want to walk in like Mimi Imfurst on Season 1 of RuPaul’s Drag Race: All-Stars. (I promise I watched more TV shows besides RuPaul's Drag Race this year). I wrote it as a memo and edited it before sending. While the contents of it can remain private, Jaxon accepted it with a grace and maturity that went beyond his years, and I was grateful for it. I had a marvelous time, got to re-connect with Darren, avoided a flower pot when someone threw one at somebody (and they thought I was going to cause all the drama!), and only wanted to teleport to Alaska once, when I accidentally went into their room after I went to the bathroom. Ok, by accidentally it was totally on purpose. I didn’t touch anything. It was emotional masochism. I thought maybe standing there would help things all make sense, or I would get some kind of closure. Closure is a myth and I just felt resentful and sorry for myself. Steve and Jaxon moved to the suburbs, in a neighborhood I will never travel to, and I am at peace with that. He bought an adorable puppy after the first week, so bringing tiny and adorable things home can be a new tradition I don’t need to understand. Someone at the party tested positive for COVID, and while they don’t think they got infected until after the party, I spent ten hours the next week on the phone with a corporate hotline and was told to stay home for another week. So much for my sexy sexy birthday party.

I wanted to have a birthday at LUSH. They closed. I really miss LUSH. I miss performing there, I miss the queens, I miss the people. I was never employed by them and wasn’t privy to the issues that plagued it and don’t want to dismiss any of that. Selfishly, as a patron and perfomer, it had become the most consistent place I was performing, and it was both a personal and professional bummer. I did get to have a birthday lunch at Stella’s Fish Cafe with Erin, Joey, and Jared. How excited I was to have Erin in town from London. She is getting her Ph.D and is studying grief and stillborn children. Very uplifting stuff. The boys and I went to the beach and walked two miles back to my apartment. I wrote horrible text messages to myself that I forgot about until yesterday when I was copying a hyperlink for later use. That Sunday, Erin, Joey, Chuck, Raymond, Randall and I all played croquet in my parents’ backyard using a set that my Great-Grandma Julia had! I do not know why she kept a croquet set when she lived in an apartment in Starbuck, Minnesota for the last decades of her life. Loretta bemoaned that she should have mowed the lawn first, because the yard is very hilly and caused obstacles. Joey kept quoting Heathers. I refused to swing the traditional way and played like a golfer, which may have been why I got fourth. (Chuck won and Raymond got second, so it was not a good day for singles) Charlie came after the game and was annoyed he missed it, and I win the Hypocrite Award for being annoyed that he arrived so late. He got me a satchel and a Trish Stratus magnet. Chuck, Charlie and myself all have birthdays the same week (The Week of the Persuader in my birthday book), but I never want to do a joint birthday party because I am a twin and spent my whole childhood sharing a birthday. However, this year nobody could really have one. Not the spring babies, not the summer babies, not the fall babies. Everything is cancelled. Maybe we can do a half-birthday bash. I wouldn’t mind sharing a half-birthday party. Charlie went on a road trip to South Dakota with Steve and that was during a week that Steve blocked me on everything because I was being ridiculous. I found out that Tuesday from Steve. Four days later, Charlie texted me to ask for my new address so he could send me a postcard. I did not respond with grace.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I texted back with haste.

“I would have told you if you would have asked me anything about my trip,” he shot back. “You took no interest in it.”

  My parents brought Dane and I to South Dakota when we were 13, in a Jeep with no air conditioner, and we were so bored we came home a day early and my mom cried. "You boys are so ungrateful, she whimpered. When I was your age, the only other state I had ever been to was Wisconsin, and that was because our bus driver got lost on our field trip to Red Wing. But we were like, “Oooh, we’re in Wisconsin …"

  “I didn’t realize I had to ask for your entire itinerary,” I said.

“I asked you on Sunday if I could hang out with Steve without it being weird and you said yes,” he responded.

“Hang out!” I repeated. “Not go on a road trip for a week when he’s blocked me on everything!” It went on from there and our friendship never recovered. Did I mention our birthdays are one day apart? Two gay Cancers having a beef? I am really bummed about it. I hope they had more fun than my family did.

Yes, dear reader, I again have a new address. And it’s not my St. Anthony estate! Reid found a place right away in Loring Park. Would I finally return to the neighborhood that was my blog’s namesake? Rent is much more than it was in 2012, but it was also the last time Venus was retrograde in Gemini, and it felt like a full-circle moment! But you could also argue that it was going backwards. I also knew that wherever I lived needed to have parking, because one year of struggling in Whittier was enough. By circumstance, luck, and my Uncle Ander very generously printing out documents for me at his house because the printer at Loretta’s had no ink, I was able to obtain a Section 42 apartment in the North Loop. THE NORTH LOOP! I KNOW! It’s still rather surreal. I haven’t lived alone in six years and it has been quite an adjustment. I have already had visitors. Erin came the first day after moving in before she flew to Europe that evening, and it was a bittersweet moment. Steve brought a bottle of wine. Joey and I played Nintendo Wii and listened to “Cardigan”. Reid chastised Comcast on my behalf and I finally got cable a week later (but I lost a piece of my Firestick during the move! Such complaints!). Kennedy, my babygay friend, visited before we went to a brewery, and he wears a chain with his birthday displayed and I try not to take it personally. I wish I liked beer because there are about five breweries per capita in my neighborhood. I don’t get it. Even Ron came to visit with a friend when he was visiting from California. Chuck installed my bidet and should be nominated for sainthood, and then we walked for two miles because we ended up on a bike trail and you have to stay on it for long enough until you return to civilization. I continue to marvel that I have lived in this city for so damn long and still find secrets and gems, even though 12 years ago I was convinced I wasn’t staying. I am even more ancient now. I consider myself to be aimless. I plan on meeting a beautiful douche bag who lives in the fancy building next door, and he will scoff at me when he finds out I live in the short building. And it will be okay because there are a lot of dogs and I need to learn how to be alone anyway. Yet I’ve already had at least ten people visit! I can still be social even though I live by myself and don’t have a cat. Last week I went to two different birthday parties! One was in the suburbs with cute boys from Snapchat who did push-ups on the deck and the other was at a building a block away from me, but I put the wrong address in on the way from the other party! Thankfully, the Uber driver was queer and knew Jared and his friends from sober living, and it felt serendipitous. I jumped in the pool.

Loring Park Episode #73: Being Accompanied By Terri

Because I am a procrastinating waste of potential, I started writing this blog, which takes place in January and February of 2020, in March. It is now the end of July. That sentence used to say June. The world, and Minneapolis, is a very different place now. I will write soon -- and I mean soon, not the Jakey Emmert "I'll be there in five minutes when I really haven't even got in the shower yet" soon -- about life in quarantine, about the murder of George Floyd on our streets, about life constantly changing as we know it. For now, dear reader, we will go to a different time. And if you want to go way back in time, Loring Park: Vol. 2 is coming soon. By soon I mean before my age has a "4" in front of it.

I renewed my library card on the same day I went to my new gym. The theme is overdoing it. I somehow had joined the Anytime Fitness in the really nice part of town, and for the first 30 days you could only work out at your home gym. Nothing inspires you to work out like knowing that you can reward yourself with a nine-dollar pre-prepared cranberry salad from Kowalski's next door when you're done.

I went to the gym about five times and I only read half of the books I checked out from the library! Every time I go to the gym, I go home crying and feel stupid about myself because I don't know what the hell I am doing. But, Jakey, if that's the case, don't you go home crying every day? Hush up.

I wanted to remember what it was to be a stand-up comedian again, so I did an open mike at Bar Luchador, which is a wrestling-themed restaurant in Dinkytown. My favorite things combined are stand-up, pro wrestling, and college boys. It reminded me of when I was first starting out! Almost every comic was in college, and I was now the older veteran, but I was still really awkward. I brought my WWE Women's Championship with me, for crying out loud. My favorite thing was that it was a Monday, so WWE Raw was actually on in the background (thankfully, not on the TV behind the comedians). Still, it took me back to my days of 2011-2014, when I performed often, and went to the open mikes that feel like marathons, and you don't feel better or worse than anybody but you're just so damn happy to be there. This elation may have also been brought along by the fact that Trevor Anderson let me sit with a Trish Stratus action figure during the show.



My friend Charlie is also a wrestling fan, and we even went to a WWE pay-per-view in December! The show itself was not great, but that was no fault of our friend, a former WWE performer who gave us tickets. More on her in a little bit. First I have to say that we went to The Depot Tavern before, and Charlie almost sent back his three dollar well Tom Collins drink because it didn't taste right. I had paid for it because I had cash so I flatly refused to allow this, and because I am a good friend I used his real name at Bar Luchador in my set and said, "I don't have a joke about this, I just want to shame him." With friends like me, who needs enemies?
_________



I was blessed with a rare Saturday off, which meant Bingo! It was Valentine's Day Weekend and I guess I blessed myself with the day off, because I took the weekend off so Charlie and I could go on our trip to Duluth. Irregardless, as Gretchen Wieners would say, I realized that Charlie and I weren't going out of town until Sunday, so Saturday meant a day of debauchery!



My friend Clive lives an hour away and I hadn't seen him in months, and he agreed to spend the day with me without any blackmail involved. He even picked me up. It's not that I have a crush on Clive, but he is attractive, and there's something to be said about being in a car with a boy when he is driving. It happened when my friend George, who I met through Chuck and Raymond, drove me from Lush to The Saloon one night after he saw me perform at New Hope Cinema Grill. It's an exciting, innocent feeling. Maybe because I always think of myself as a stunted adolescent, or because usually I'm driving myself (or Jared, for a long time).



I overprepared and got a table for five, even though I didn't even know Clive was coming for sure, and Charlie couldn't come until later, and E.J. couldn't come until later, and Steve was sitting with his work friends. It all worked out because my friend Randall, a hilarious comedian, had his own posse and we joined him at the couches.

Jacob Randall, Jacob Frey, and a local drunk

Randall had a few girls at his table, including a veteran named Courtney who was very friendly and gregarious. EJ and Charlie eventually joined. I drank enough but not too much. Steve came over which made me happy because things were complicated.

"We got a new dog," he said.

I am not allowed to go to Steve's house so I pretended I was happy but was sad about it. I will never see the dog. I wish him well.

I can wish the dog well but not Jaxon well.

This speaks volume about my lack of character.

Come back, Jakey. This is a rabbit hole.

Yes! I am forgetting about the important part, which is THAT I WON BINGO. THREE TIMES.

A month later, I would win $200 at Big Louie's Bingo and THEN LOSE MY WALLET THE NEXT DAY. I CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.

After bingo, Clive, EJ, Charlie and I went to my apartment. Reid came home and cooked for us because he is a Double Taurus Daddy (so is EJ, too, and I don't wish to doubt his culinary prowess).


We played Trouble and kiki'd. Clive was planning on driving back home, and it took a lot of planning
to convince him not to (and I am happy to say he agreed). We then went to The Saloon, but it seemed weird to be out that early. Charlie did not join, because he was picking me up at 9 in the morning for our trip to Duluth.



"Don't drink too much," he warned. "We have a big day tomorrow."


"Obvi," I said.



I LIED.



Clive, Reid and I were there until bar close mingling with everybody! Clive is hot so I figured everyone was going to be all over him and he was gonna go home with someone of his choice, and he would have been allowed to, but he chose to return to my estate after bar close. He laid on top of me on the couch and kissed me on the lips.



"Jakey," he whispered. "I love you." And then he started snoring and I laid there awkwardly for 20 minutes because while I enjoy when men are muscular, it feels a different way when they are on top of you but not moving and you're not really sure what to do with yourself.



He was gone when I woke up.

____



Hell froze over because Charlie only had to wait for five minutes the next morning! Charlie is one of the most idiosyncratic people I have ever met, and I say that with love. Exhibit H: He drives a Gucci Fiat. It is a tiny black car with the Gucci logo on it. I can't make this stuff up.



I was exhausted, but I was okay with it because I planned on sleeping on the way to Duluth.


However, Charlie often drives back and forth to his hometown that is somewhere in a far away land called South Dakota, so the two and a half hour drive to Duluth is a hop and a skip in his mind. He insisted on playing games or having conversation the whole time, and I was on three hours of sleep and was struggling to find energy or a reason to live.



I won't begrudge Charlie for it, though, because he found an app called 21 Questions or something like that. It's similar to a game I bought from Nordstrom called Hygge, and it prompts questions that lead to deep conversations. I realized there are not many people in the world that could engage in something like that, as it requires deep vulnerability, empathy, and curiosity.  Around Hinckley, there was even one question that I wasn't comfortable answering beyond "yes" or "no" and Charlie respected that.



After what felt like being on The Oregon Trail, we landed in Duluth! First we stopped at The Electric Fetus. I used to live just a block and a half away from the Minneapolis location and never knew there was a Duluth one. I splurged and bought two Janet Jackson CD's (if I ever finish the 2019 blog, I will tell you all about that concert!), a Jonny Lang CD, the Batman soundtrack by Prince, and a T-shirt that I can't recall because it is still in the bag in my car.

We started our excursion outside the 7 West Taphouse, where a nice Duluthian informed us that we didn't need to pay for parking. I was so excited to reunite with my Aunt Jana! I hadn't seen her in person since MAY OF 2012, when I performed at Dub Linnh's during the weekend I was initially going to be in a play that never happened. Jana is originally from Georgia and I stayed with her parents when I saw the Atlanta Olympics in 1996. It was wonderful to catch up with her, her husband Ray, and my cousin Daniel, and we promised to not make it eight years before seeing each other again.



Charlie and I scrambled to get ready at the hotel, and I was still SO DAMN TIRED, but we made it to the wrestling show.



You guys, I am a horrible writer. I didn't even tell you why we were going to Duluth.



Five years earlier, Charlie and I road tripped to Milwaukee (an even longer trip!) to see Charlie's favorite childhood wrestler, Terri Runnels, at a wrestling meet-and-greet that was during a halftime session of a Milwaukee Admirals hockey game. Here's the Cliffs Notes version: Charlie made an amazing card for Terri. We took a picture even though we were technically too late for pictures. Charlie left his phone number in the card even though I told Charlie that was creepy. I know nothing, because Terri called him later that night and a genuine friendship was made ever since then. We have kept in touch with Terri through the years, but I was always too poor to go to something like WrestleCon, and when she told us she was going to be doing a show in Minnesota, we were THERE.



We got to the building later than we wanted to (shocker, I know). I was nervous and anxious. There were never two seats close to each other, because everybody seated themselves the way that Minnesotans do in church, where you're the only person in your row but then you strategically leave a coat to cover the seats next to you to signal to others, no, this seat is TAKEN, they're just not here right now. I was frustrated but it was my fault we were late so I didn't want to express that to Charlie, so I just got more nervous and agitated. We ended up standing on the upper level, where Charlie immediately received compliments of his authentic WWF Chyna T-shirt, which he had splurged $50 for on eBay. I felt salty because I had the same shirt when I was a youth, and I ruined it a few summers ago by attempting to turn it into a crop top. I shouldn't complain, because I was wearing a festive Trish Stratus T-shirt that Charlie had given me for my birthday.

My 9th grade school picture.

My anxiety quelled during the first match when Charlie's phone buzzed. "Terri just asked, 'Where are you guys'?" he said. He tapped away furiously and his face lit up. "She's gonna come find us," he said.


"What???" I asked dramatically. It was all hitting me now, that I always would joke with my brother about "my good friend Terri Runnels", that she was a real person, this was really happening, that she was going out of her way to meet two gay guys from Minneapolis -- which was a judgment, because we had been corresponding with her regularly, I mean she was a friend …



...She bopped around the brewhouse and waved at us from the bottom of the stairs, then climbed up with aplomb. In heels. I was worried for her safety. "You guys!" she yelled. "Come sit with me!" She put her hand on my back, and while I always role-played as Chyna or Trish as a kid, it's the only time I felt like a male wrestler. Terri is a legendary manager, and she had her hand on my back as we walked down the stairs (she's about 5'2" and I'm 5'7", whereas Charlie would be the hoss of our team because he is 6'2"), and for a brief moment I felt like Charlie and I were making our way to the ring as a tag team, with Terri as our manager …


The following contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the World Wrestling Federation Tag Team Championship! Introducing the challengers, accompanied by TERRI RUNNELS, at a combined weight of .... math is hard ... THE FABULOUS JAKEY & CHARLIE CHANNING





Terri sat with us while we watched the rest of the show, which included a lot of great Minneapolis talent, including Deveon Monroe, who was like nothing I had ever seen.

His character is flamboyantly gay. 20 years ago, he would be the heel. And I was nervous watching it, because I was anticipating an Adrian Adonis gimmick (or ironically, Goldust). But no, he was the face, with a male bodyguard, who does some moves that have sexuality to them, but it had nothing to do with the story of the match. It was refreshing to see, and I judged my own judgment.

There was an amazing heel named Dak Draper, the Mile High Magnum, who I thought was sexy as all hell! I didn't talk to him at a meet and greet because I was too nervous. Had I known that he has a tortoise shell cat who actually lets him hold her, I would have been more comfortable. This picture melted me. And then I later found out on Instagram that it's a rare boy tortie!

The love of my life.

Penny Ann would never, but I still love her so much and if I start talking about her I will get emotional.



Anyway, during the show, I was still really quiet. It was partly because I was still tired. Also, we were by the camera and I was nervous because I heard that they would pick up our audio. It was loud, and also still kind of surreal. I thought it best to just let Terri and Charlie talk to each other, even though she was trying her best to include me. I especially enjoyed her talk about the advice she was giving the young wrestlers. "You have to know your character inside out," she said. "You should know what your character had for breakfast this morning. When you're at a red light, what is your character thinking about being at a red light?" (Terri's favorite character of hers is Marlena, but I told her my favorite version of her was when she accompanied The Hardys) Charlie felt I was being standoffish, and I felt terrible. I was just trying to take it in, throughout my exhaustion, without ruining the show (I really was worried about the damn audio), or making a fool of myself out of my lust for Dax Draper ...



After the show, Charlie and I went to dinner at the iconic JJ Astor atop the Harborview Radisson. This meal was almost as much as the room and worth it. I felt like I was at Gina's, the fictional restaurant in Genoa City on The Young and the Restless.

It was decadent and delicious and worth every dollar, and we enjoyed the view of the beautiful city. After dinner, Terri told us to meet her in her room at a different hotel, and Charlie packed his Nintendo 64. I was finally able to let loose, and the night turned into a very slumber-party vibe. First we had S'mores outside, and I was properly judged for being very lame about them (I only like a toasted brown marshmallow!) Charlie hooked up the Nintendo 64, and we ordered pizza. These days, WWE does an annual video game in the format of a Madden game (the game is just named after the current year), but in our day, each game was different. I was raised in a PlayStation household, to my detriment when I am playing Mario Party with Joey and Lee, and had we been playing Smackdown 2: Know Your Role, I am confident I would have slayed my competition. Unfortunately for me, we were on Nintendo 64 playing No Mercy, the first wrestling game made for this console. However, it was worth it, because while Terri was not known for her in-ring competition during her illustrious career, it's the only game in which she is a playable character!!!! She was as gobsmacked as we were, but not nearly so much as the pizza delivery boy that came in our room twenty minutes later.


"Do you see that girl on the screen?" she said as her Terri delivered a Boston Crab to my Ivory. "That's me."


The pizza guy did the longest double take I have ever witnessed, left without saying too much, and then texted her a bunch of times later (she never responded).


"I've never done that move in my life," Terri said after she beat me with said Boston Crab. I was terrible!


I was grateful that I was able to finally loosen up, and Terri was even gracious enough to FaceTime with my brother. Unlike at the show, it never felt like we were hanging out with a famous person, but just a friend who was visiting town. I mean, it wasn't our town, but you know what I mean.


We planned to meet up with her in the morning and it was serendipitous. After we helped her pack, Terri went downstairs only to find that Ron Simmons took the shuttle to the airport without her!

Charlie and I offered to give her a ride to the airport without question. I had never seen the Duluth airport, and I was excited in a nerdy way about it. Unfortunately, we were in the Gucci Fiat, which makes my Honda Fit look like a monster truck. We could barely fit her luggage in the back and I squeezed into the backseat. (Terri offered to sit in the back, but we would not have that!)


Duluth has a lot of hills. Not only that, but they have STOPLIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF HILLS. And it was February. And the three of us and the luggage wouldn't be enough weight to help the car go up if needed (even though Terri's luggage probably weighed as much as she does). After some slight fearing for our lives, we avoided a few streets and managed to drudge up to the airport to get her on her flight safely! We bid her a fond farewell and enjoyed some sightseeing and dining in Duluth before heading back to the city.

Christmas photo

I lost my Oscar party again. We had a Moonlight moment when I thought Charlie won because I am bad at math, but it ended up being Joey! My grandparents and aunt and uncle came, and so did my high school friend Eva, who won my very first party back in 2004!!!!! She still has the record because I invited a lot of people that year and that was the year that Lord of the Rings: Return of the King won everything.

HQ Trivia ended out of nowhere. They notified fans via a snarky push notification ON VALENTINE'S DAY. It was like when I found out Steve was dating someone else on Facebook. It has since been revived and I have yet to win, in love or trivia. I recommend listening to The Ringer's excellent podcast about it.

My generous friend Angie surprised me with a ticket to see Dashboard Confessional. I went with Joey and a gal pal and felt all my feelings. YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HEARRRRRTTTTTTT.

My store closed on St. Patrick's Day. I worked through the pandemic. I had more money than I ever had in my life. Then I took a temporary cut. I blew all of the money. I should have given it to Loretta.

I am moving to a new apartment on Thursday. It is in a new neighborhood, one that I never thought would be home. It reminds me of when Loring Park began. Hopefully that means I will start writing again. But for how many years have I been saying that? I am so terribly unproductive. The new place is nowhere close to Loring Park. I have no friends in the neighborhood. I will be living alone for the first time since 2014. I am nervous. I also feel like I have not grown in a very long time, and sometimes we have to scare ourselves a little bit so we can do that.

I Want To Talk About Dick

I want to talk about Dick and no one is going to understand me.

My roommate Reid graciously set up a Firestick TV in my room, and I can't rave enough about the Pluto app. Or Hulu. Or anything. I'm not even working from home because I (as of today) still have a day job at a department store that is now a fulfillment center, although I haven't been showing up to all of my shifts because mental illness, but I don't like using that as an excuse. It's my job to take care of it and I have not been.

Anygay, the point is that I want to talk about Dick.

Dick is a comedy about two teenage girls, Arlene and Betsy (Michelle Williams and Kirsten Dunst) who unwittingly find themselves working in the Nixon White House as official dog walkers and later "youth advisors". Arlene also lives in the Watergate building, and they saw G. Gordon Liddy (Harry Shearer) there that night ...

Dick is funny. Really funny. I don't know why Michelle Williams didn't do more comedies. She's an incredibly strong comedic actor. Arlene is kind of a dork. She falls in love with President Nixon (Dan Hedaya). Williams completely sells this awkward character. You get a feeling that she and Betsy are "besties" and only hang out with each other, although the movie doesn't explore their high school life a lot (except for when they make their bus late after the White House and they can't get McDonald's).

I saw this movie in the theater, because I am an Ancient like Aeris. It was the summer of 1999. My dad took my brother and me and explained some of the jokes to us, because we didn't know very much about Watergate. Most of the comedic bits work enough that you don't need to know that much going in, but there is a gag about the 18 and a half minutes of silence on the recovered tapes that the movie serves very well.

This is what interests me: Dick BOMBED. Released on the first Friday in August, it opened at #12, grossing $2.2 million. It went on to gross only $6.3 million, on a budget of $13 million. According to Wikipedia, TriStar marketed it to teenagers, which might have explained the lackluster box office. It's a smart political comedy, not She's All That. What also fascinates me is that just a month prior, Kirsten Dunst was in another quirky comedy that had a horrible opening and was a bomb for its studio.

That movie was Drop Dead Gorgeous.

Drop Dead Gorgeous has since found a cult following - it is finally on Hulu after years of being famously unavailable, with its DVD out of print (I, of course, have lost both my copies). I am from Minnesota so I am biased in my love for that movie, and am always fascinated when people not from here, from Hilary Duff to Jia Tolentino, profess their love for it. Allison Janney has gone on record that she gets recognized more for that film than her Emmy-winning years on The West Wing, which had millions of viewers on weekly television.

Dick, however, has not received that kind of residual love. It's fascinating to watch in current political times. When I watched MSNBC, Rachel Maddow often interviewed a prosecutor who worked on Watergate before the Mueller Report came out. I forget her name now. She always wears pins. Her Twitter is really fun. I am now more familiar with John Dean, who famously spoke out against Nixon. The movie portrays this very well. "You're no better than him if you stay here," Kirsten Dunst tells Jim Breuer as she is escorted out of the White House, and he sells it with a dramatic and effeminate gasp.

I have somehow had Watergate randomly show up in my life last week. I thought I knew everything about Nora Ephron, but I found a Twitter feed that mentioned how she told everyone for years that Deep Throat was Mark Felt. She was married to Carl Bernstein (played here by Bruce McCulloch, with Will Ferrell as Bob Woodward, and they're absolutely hilarious), and after their messy divorce she would just tell everyone casually at dinner parties.

I have read Heartburn 50 times. I never realized that she names the husband in that book Mark Feldman.

I have also been listening to a podcast called "Trashy Divorces". There is a lady named Martha Mitchell that I can't believe they haven't made a movie about. Her husband worked for Nixon. She knew about everything. She would get drunk and call reporters. Her husband hired a body man who kicked her in the ribs. He is now working in the Trump Administration as an ambassador to what I want to say is Croatia, but don't quote me.

Anyway, I wanted to talk about Dick. It's really funny and available on Pluto, and I hope it someday gets the recognition it deserves. I was obsessed with "You're So Vain" as a teenager, and this movie was my first exposure to it. It is used perfectly here.

But you gave away the things you loved
And one of them was me



Dick is available on Pluto TV.