Saturday, September 19, 2009

Dreaming of a World Where this Doesn't Happen

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mike-alvear/stonewall-2009-police-rai_b_286649.html

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Aversion to Urban Sprawl...

... I've got it, in spades.  We are resting now in a small arts district in Buffalo, NY.  Chris is reading to me from Ishamael by Daniel Quinn while I try to find us places to sleep online.  We've been making friends with people via their pets, cuddling with park-happy puppies and watching the sun slip through the trees.  We are both looking forward to moving towards smaller cities, although this one does have it's charms.


Riding is easy and smooth... the air is cooler.  I layer up instead of layering down.  I listen to music and enjoy the views of Lake Erie as they come and go.  I steal concord grapes from the vine, and spit out the sours... savor the sweets.  I think my front tire is low, but I don't stop...  I wait.  It's not slowing me down. Here, people own all of the lake-side property.  Everywhere I ride, properties are for sale.  It is quiet, but there is a hidden stress in the air.  The lake, however, is calm and reflective; unconcerned with human affairs.  I am grateful wherever the world is green.


Sending Love,

x Mk

Friday, September 4, 2009

Slow Road, Michigan Wandering.... Passing and Laughing

We drove out of the park in Holland with little event.  The trail was tight, watching the bikes out the window, to safely return to the road.  The day was slipping past us, and we realized quickly that this wasn't the day to ride.  There were personal matters to attend to in Holland, a burgeoning storm and all of it's fallout.  We took the day to attend an AA meeting, collect ourselves, and get some internet work done.  

Chris works in drug and alcohol recovery in Utah.  He has been coming to Al-anon for about a year now... a group for people affected by addiction in the lives of people close to them.  He has known all along that he might need some support for his own addictions, however invisible they are to the naked eye... but until now he hasn't been willing.  Despite the hundreds of AA meetings he has attended in the past, he raised his hand and said it was his first meeting.  Brave.  It was an intense experience I think, for both of us.  Our journey for a few days has been speckled with meetings and heavy conversations.  

Days before I had been contacted by an old friend, an ex-lover.  We hadn't spoken in years.  Our inability to mend the fence finally wore out, in due course.  It feels like a lost member of my family has returned to me.  On another line a friend is recovering from sexual assault, and seeking support, leaving me with tides of anger and words I wish were easier to say.  So much is happening some days that I can't catch up with myself.  On a long ride, I fall into the music and dream...  I don't have it in me to process right now.  

I ride past a house proudly bearing a  confederate flag and I cringe, check my speed.  I ride past signs pointing to Hell... and notice the street headed that way is called "Darwin".  I wonder, stop to take a photograph even.... but keep moving.  Chris stays behind in Lansing to get stoned one last time, and to get to a meeting. 

We walk around these conservative Michigan towns, and people smile at us.  We look like any other young couple.  No one would guess looking at us that Chris was born in a female body.  He has never taken hormones to look male, and has not had any surgery.  He is the way he is, concealing soft curves beneath a male exterior.  People stare at us, like I am used to being stared at... but they only stare because they find us strangely beautiful, or strangely dressed.  We laugh a lot, take life lightly.  Chris outs himself as trans when it feels safe or necessary, or appropriate.  I tease him, calling him Boyfriend... calling him Boy. 

In Kalamazoo, everyone we spent time with knew that we were queer... but out here on the road, no one knows if we don't tell them.  In Toledo, Ohio, they put us up in  a gorgeous Victorian mansion in the Old West End, and the couple there never raised an eyebrow to question Chris' gender, or the nature of our relationship.  Chris finds himself invited into the back porch "boys club".  Tony tells him that he is glad Chris is travelling with me, that he cant imagine a woman biking alone.  Still working on being an outwardly feminist male... he merely states that I *was* alone up until recently, and leaves it at that.  We laugh later, knowing that for the depth of his queerness.... I am more likely protecting Chris.  

Amazing, these open windows into the gendered worlds I have been separate from for so long.  Kris, the lady of the house moons over Chris and I reading the paper together...  saying how amazing it is that we share interests....  She says "Well, you know how most men are...:"  I freeze a little, unsure what to say.  I feel so much compassion, but her world is foreign to me.  Conventional gender has vanished for us, mostly.  We are lovers.  In each others space and tangled around each others words.  Maybe this is queer priveledge.  We love so freely and fluidly.

I rode a seventy mile day without flinching, or tiring really at all.  Now that my gear is in the car, I fly easily across the Michigan flatlands.  My bike is in great shape and my body feels amazing. 

I am jumping around, because there has been so much to say....  I don't want to write you all a novel right now.   Eventually... but not right now  :)

More soon... We are off-route for a few days, back in Michigan.  We are up in Metro-Detroit visiting Chris' family, and getting the car looked at.  Clutch trouble.  My next show is in Erie, NY.  We will drive back down to the West Coast of the lake before I start riding again.  We have this ability now to take little detours in the car, and we are taking full advantage.  I'm still covering my miles, and I get to cram in a little extra adventuring...  All good.

Sending so much love and strength,
Malcolm xoxo