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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 17, 1984)
GAYS O F OÜR LIVES MM CPOUP Life of Ryan Episode III — ÇïGfJüQ i RUPERT £. KÍNNARD 242-2463 WIHCtflRE PRESENTS Darcelle XV in a benefit show at Darcelle XV 208 N.W. 3rd Ave. on March 4th at 4pm also with Rosy Waters, Kate Sullivan, Doric Wilson, Lady Elaine and lots more Come Out and Support Portland's Youth 18 and over only please Tickets available at Forward Gear A Woman’s Place Bookstore and The City Nite Clufcr for only $3.50 Though there is heat and a revelry of roustabouts, it seems very still and quiet where you sit onstage among your drums, head tilted back against Karl's thighs. His gaze probes every naked part of you but your eyes. “ Nothing’s wrong," he states, in a steely lock with your red bikini briefs. You slip fingers under stitched elastic. Lift slightly and let the scant material slide down, off your fingertips. “ Nothing?" "Nothing.” The third time enforces and seals it. His hand falls heavy on your head. "There's work to do here. I can’t stand listen ing to you talk about the lab all day.’ "I could be persuaded to talk about other things.” “ How about doing them?” Karl pushes your head away. You swivel about on your stool. “ It’s no big thing hauling in your kit." Wip ing his had with a bandana already oil smeared. "But you’ve got to set-up the rest yourself. Half the stage crew sign-up’s evap orated and there’s five more acts coming in." Tucks the bandana back in his jeans. "Generator’s screwed too," sourly amazed. “ Charity!" Runs both hands through his hair. Fingers bunch; hair bristling between. "OK. You’re frustrated. You came running up to see me because you didn't have the tim e aqd there’s too much to do.” You open a case and lift out a tom-tom. “ I understand." Meeting his eyes. "I really do. It’s not required we do a scene onstage about it” “ What scene?" Karl stalks to the edge of the stage, throws up his arms. “ Everything’s happening now." Leaps free and runs, strip ping off his shirt, toward the generator truck. "Details!" you yell after, watching muscles mesh and grind in his sweaty, diminishing, bad*. d rum forgotten in your lap. "Nasty, repressed, macho, smooth," you stroke the drumhead, “ and lovely," the drum sounds under your tap, you push it sparkling into the sun, “ liar.” And industriously screw it into its fixture on the bass drum. The kit is an old habit When everything’s com fortably within kick and strike you make an incredible fog of synchopated noise for two minutes, wave a stick at the listeners caught midstride and edge between your stands for to tape down wires while tanning the backs of your thighs. Thus crouched ob livious, in formal interior debate, philosophi cally tugging a lead which will possibly never become longer, a shadow flows over you. “ Good news," it thrills. “You've brought a plug box." If you tug the lead exactly right it may come through the tape, rather than come through the tape. Then again." “You’ll be playing a solo." “ I’d rather have a plug box.” You nudge the amp closer to the lead; sacrificing a few in ches of quality to whichever god presides over the half-assed. “Or a stage crew.” Con nect amp to lead. “I don’t wanna be a star.” You stand. "A star gets what he wants," persuasively. She wears green eyeshadow above green eyes. “A stage crew?” “They’ve gone to the same place Robert’s Rasties have. May they enjoy each other pro fessionally." Hands entwine behind her neck. A damp and smelly woman. Very attractive. “ Nothing against the Rasties on a promo tional level. Just personal." “Taste does have a way of cutting down experience. Pornographic choirs give me squirms." You smile brightly at her. “And I do not want to be a star." A ll Gay Cruises Jacqueline’s ISEE VUE MOTEL fireplaces kitchens for men and women JULY 31st sailing out of Nassau Reservations — 547-3227 Seven m iles south o f Yachats Have a unique experience — build a fire - enjoy the sea In the style o f Hemingway Antiques, plants, and always some o f Jacqueline's sourdough bread. Patchwork Q uilt Suite available by the week tor sum m er vocation. Two fre e n ig h tt o u t o f *even. Van Nuvs/ln Touch Travel Koll Business Center Bldg. #25 Beaverton, OR 97005 644-7628 ___ Toll free in Oregon 1 -800-452-9446 14 “ Someone must make the sacrifice.” Fingers untwine, peel wet khaki cloth from her shoulders, shake it. “ Hot — isn’t it?" She matches your smile. “ It can get worse.” You turn your head and call, “ Chloe! Would you step over for a m om ent" A short, slender black woman ceases ar ranging a multitude of African drums. "I sup pose." Her accent is Chicago. Her clothing, when she steps light from the drums, is two scarves around breasts and head, and a bizarre patterned wraparound skirt. Poised, she considers you both. “ Charlene Turpin, this is Chloe Williams.” Waving. “ Chloe, this is Charlie — the woman in charge of this mess who’s getting increas ingly hot and bothered ("aren t you?” ) be cause she needs talent to solo the third set" You pat Charlie. Nod to Chloe. “ I leave you each to the other’s persuasion.” And get off that stage fast. Fortunately you’ve got a clear excuse. For abandoned between clots of increasingly fes tive people a two-year old stomps around in a circle. You heft him into your arms; swinging him laughing. Shouting: “ Keep your hands off my Brian!" Karl tears him away from you; glaring. “ Karl! It’s not contagious.” Cheryl runs up. “ If it were," you stare ice at him, “ Brian would o f had it before Karl met me.” Cheryl touches her child, touches you. “ It’s not you. It’s the project you’re working on. Karl’s worried you’ll catch Simian AIDS." “ How!" You whirl on him. "You think I rav age through the cages every morning! Snort microbes? Eat babies?" The child’s face begins arrangement for tears. “That's chickenshit, Karl. You’re not worried about me. I'm nowhere near the first person you're worried about" Brian is crying. Karl’s face bent over him. “ So?" Face raised defiant "How am I sup posed to know?” "You ask. You jerk. You don’t back away and wipe your hands of i t . . . shit," connect ing, “that’s what you did isn’t it? Onstage, even. And now you’re hiding in your Father Protector role. Always covering up. Always acting. Aren’t you-sick of it" “ Not half so sick.” Mouth twisting, cheeks hollow. "As you make me, Ryan." End Episode III C 1984 Scott Swentek Just Out Februarv 17-March 2 V p
