George Birimisa

February 21, 1924 – May 10, 2012

Go with God, dear friend

George in February 2012

George’s blog will remain up and running.

His friends and literary executors, Paul Sagan and Steve Susoyev, will post notices here as new copies of George’s work become available online and elsewhere.

“I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out
in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom
of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.“

Jack London
(framed beside George’s front door for
as long as any of his friends can remember)

OLD-OLD AGE BULLETIN: I was on my way to the beauty parlor and I took  a wrong turn on my CHERRY RED SCOOTER WITH THE QUEER FLAG  AND i GOT LOST–COULDN’T ACTUALLY REMEMBER where it was.  To begin with  I don’t have any sense of direction I can never figure out uptown from downtown.  I read in a DEAR ABBY column that no sense of direction was inherited.  So –I can blame it on Mom–she was always stopping very good looking men and Asking  them for directions.  Well, I finally stopped a young man and asked him where SEVENTH  STREET WAS. He said,”The street in front of you.” ” Thank you so much but which way is Market Street?”   He pointed to his left and said in a kind voice,” I lose my sense of direction when I’m drunk.” I finally found the MADAMEMESELLE (SIC)  SALON AND AVERY NICE PHILLIPINO (SIC)  young lady gave me a manicure changing my nails from lavender to gold.  I gave her a five dollar tip.

It was so hot that I wore a blue-orange-green-red -white  and black t-shirt. The first time I haven’t been bundled up this year here in San Francisco.  Tomorrow I’m going to wear my I AM LOVE polo shirt.

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old-old age BULLETIN:  TRISH  is a new caretaker that I have in the evening for an hour or so.  She’s been giving me a neck massage because of my arthritis. Last night she gave me a foot massage.  It felt great for about an hour or so but I couldn’t go to sleep because my right foot suddenly had a life of it’s own–a buzz–needles in my ankle–a pulsing ache.  I finally started to fall  asleep about five AM but then I heard a squeak and Squeakie snuggled up to me and gave me a kiss.   MY RIGHT LEG.  About 20 years ago it started to hurt and after awhile I developed a limp—an operation on my back to fix my leg was a dismal failure.  About fifteen years ago I started using a cane–another operation on my back—no dice–ended up using a walker. And you guessed it–n –yeah, MY CHERRY RED SCOOTER WITH THE QUEER FLAG and a wheelchair.

AH, YES, DOCTORS MAKE LOTS OF MONEY BY OPERATING.  NO MATTER WHERE YOU GO capitalism HAS ONE MARVELOUS ATTRIBUTE–IT IS SENDING THE ONE PER CENT TO BURN IN HELL FOR ALL ETERNITY AND THEN SOME.

OLD-OLD AGE BULLETIN:  i STRADDLED MY cherry red scooter with the queer flag and headed for the ROSS DEPARTMENT STORE. I went to th basement looking for sheets but by mistake I bought a queen size white blanket.  I am really jinxed by the Giants. O n my way home–guess what?  THE GIANTS GAME WAS OVER.  I don’t know if the fans were drunk or they had lost or both but they were a wave of orange that almost drowned me. I finally got to STARBUCKS but  there was a long line for the toilet so I ended peeing in my DIAPERS.  Yes, the older I get the more it’s about piss. MY WISDOM FOR THE DAY.

A few posts ago I wrote about ANXIETY.  I received this e-mil fom CLYDE MCCONNELL: “YUMMY! Ii’LL HAVE ANOTHER HELPING OF ANXIETY, PLEASE! XO”

As for me–at 88 years old and three months my anxiety increases –I freak over loud noises but have to turn up my TV.   Don’t misunderstand. I AM NOT DEPRESSED. i/VE BEEN ABLE TO SLOW DOWN–SEE PEOPLE–ENJOY MY LIFE LIKE NEVER BEFORE. YES, INTIMACY

OLD-OLD AGE BULLETIN:  For the second time in three days  I wet the bed.  I was actually ashamed when Marlene told  me.I flashed back to when I was nine years old.  Daddy had died of pneumonia  after the Watsonville Fire Department tasered—oops  I mean water cannoned–that is turned their hoses on a COMMUNIST rally where he was giving an impassioned call for REVOLUTION.  A few months later my beloved  mother ran off with a man who was at least thirty years older than her.  My brothers Louie and Jackie and I were made wards of the County and we ended up in a Catholic kind of orphanage  on the edge of town.  Louie was put in a part of the dormitory that was reserved for BED WETTERS and was called THE FIRE BRIGADE.  How ironic–Louie continued to wet the bed until he was thirteen.  HE REALLY LOVED DADDY WHERE i HATED MY FATHER WAY BACK THEN.

Two weeks–maybe three Martin and I went to see THE FASHION WORLD OF JEAN PAUL GAULTIER–FROM THE SIDEWALK TO THE CATWALK. It was–is at the de Young in Golden Gate Park until August 19th.  I’m sure every queen in the Bay Area  has seen it. I thought it was incredibly beautiful and horrible with the creepy talking manikins, although they did look llike the anorectic blank faced models. I must say,I enjoyed the show.  Jean Paul gets away with murder and women don’t crucify him. Of course, the painting ABOVE is not GAULTIER.

When I was a 40 year old firebrand of a Commie I didn’t think the WORKING CLASS got allergies.   I thought it was a myth made up by the one percent.  So when I started tearing up and feeling my head was heavy with snot it made me realize I was wrong.

ANXIETY IS THE PRICE OF A TICKET ON THE JOURNEY OF LIFE–NO TICKET–NO JOURNEY; NO JOURNEY–NO LIFE.  WE MAY RUN FROM ANXIETY AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE BUT WE THEREBY RUN FROM OUR OWN LIFE. ………………..AGAIN , WE ARE DAILY FORCED TO  CHOOSE BETWEEN DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY. THE PATH OF ANXIETY IS NECESSARY  BECAUSE THEREIN LIES THE HOPE OF THE PERSON TO MORE NEARLY BECOME AN INDIVIDUAL.

Swampland of the Soul–New Life in Dismal Places by JAMES HOLLIS

OLD-OLD AGE BULLETIN:  With the help of Marlene it’s easy enough to get on my CHERRY RED SCOOTER BUT–anyway, I stopped at SUBWAY and got a foot long turkey sandwich with provolone cheese–tomato–avocado (sic?) lettuce and mayo—on to WALGREEN’s where I bought their version of AlLEGRA  for “only” ten dollars. 30 tablets of  ALLEGRA costs almost twenty bucks.  S0-the working person  will have to spend at le4ast 2 hours to maybe get rid of  their hay fever.  On to Safeway where  I bought four bananas (not CHIQUITA) and a half pound of sliced ham. The problem starts when I get home. Marlene is gone for the day so I park my scooter in the  hallway I grab my goodies in one hand–in my other hand I have my keys.  I lurch toward the door and pray I don’t fall down. Since I’m wearing sunglasses I can’t find the keyhole until I take them off.. As I push open the door I hear “Squeak! Squeak!  Squeak!”  THERE SHE IS– MY DARLING SQUEAKIE.  She rolls over on her belly and looks at me adoringly.  Oh, I forgot to tell you.  On my way home I had pissed in my diapers. They are amazing!. They absorbed the urine.  After I deficated (SHIT)I managed to put on  a fresh pair of  diapers.  Then I put the plastic in my nose so I could get oxygen for my emphysema.  AND HERE I AM SENDING YOU, DEA READER, THIS LOVE LETTER!

UNCLE SAM HAS ONE OF THE BIGGEST PRICKS IN THE WORLD.  The news yesterday–the NEW TRADE CENTER is taller than the EMPIRE STATE BUILDING. I ‘m afraid the EMPIRE is falling apart.

PETER–PETER–PETER!!!! Everywhere I looked–there he was on his bike GRINNING at me and handing me another pamphlet. “This one was on the CHARACTERISTICS  OF SEX  AND LOVE ADDICTION, George, he said.”  When I got home I glanced at it but didn’t read it all the way through.

About six months later I went to the upper balcony of the Strand . I was watching Joe Dalesandro  in TRASH when the movie came to a halt and the lights went on.  Three guys were down on their knees and one of them was naked.  However, what really bothered me was how—OLD–OLD–OLD  and UGLY everyone was.  I bolted down the stairs. Outside  I took in deep breaths of the fresh air.  I started to go to the Y for my work-out but then  moved down Turk Street to a scuzzy ADULT BOOKSTORE.  I BOUGHT   two dollars worth of  tokens and went into the “penny arcade.”  A skinny hustler looked at me and held up five fingers. I shook my head and hurried into a booth.  I closed the door behind me and was about to lock it when it burst open and a very fat black man pushed his way in and locked the door.  His hands were all over me. I tried to push him away–we struggled. I somehow  unlocked the door but then I heard a ripping sound.  Before I knew it I was racing  down the street. I reached for my wallet. It was gone and so was my back pocket.  I was panic stricken as I ran all  the way home.  I vowed to never go to the Strand or to a adult bookstore again. I watched television until two in the morning but then I cried myself to sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED

I finally got sick and tired of spending so much time cruising for rough trade  but I didn’t know what to do about it–twenty-four hours a day I had a newsreel going around in my head–fantasy’s about straight guy’s saying, “Suck my cock, you fuckin faggot.”  This was back in ’92 when I was working out at the GOLDEN GATE YMCA  and getting ready for the GAY GAMES IN AMSTERDAM.  I was putting on my clothes in the locker room when a bald headed man with a paunch walked up to me–gave me a big smile and said, “I can see you’re light in the loafers!”

I was flabbergasted.  “What–what do you–”

“I’m Peter,” he said as he held out his hand.

“Uh–George,” I muttered.

“I’m a member of SEX AND LOVE ADDICTS ANONYMOUS,” he smirked as he stuffed a pamphlet in my handbag. He hurried to the exit. When I left the Y there was PETER on his ancient  woman’s bike.   There was a big grin on his face. “See you later,  George”

Not if I can help it, I muttered under my breath.  After I turned the corner I threw the pamphlet in the gutter.  I hesitated a moment as I stood in front of  the notorious Strand Theater.  The very–very dark upper balcony was a cruising  hang-out for older gay men. I paid my three dollars and and I found myself in almost pitch black darkness in the balcony. It stunk of piss and  I could hear heavy breathing. CONTINUED TOMORROW–HOPEFULLY.

!”

MORE ON ‘SEX & LOVE ADDICTION TOMORROW. I’M TAKING THE DAY OFF.