October 1st.

I've Been Out-ed

   
 Busy, Busy. The book comes out October 1st. This is a repost.

           I received in the mail recently a letter asking if I wanted to buy a subscription to Out magazine, a magazine highlighting the gay and lesbian lifestyle. I thought WTF.

          The second thing that came to mind was, “Why the hell would I get this? Did someone do this as a joke?” That led to, “My God, how many women does a guy have to sleep with to prove he’s not gay?” And, finally, “I’m married, for Christ’s sake.”

          I walked into the kitchen and said with a chuckle, “Hey, Honey, look at this. It’s a notice to buy a subscription to Out. What’s that supposed to mean?”

          “Well, let’s see Larry. You get Men’s Health, Men’s Fitness, Men’s Journal, and GQ.”

          I thought for a moment and said, “Wow, if I was looking to sell gay magazines, I guess I would have sent this, too.” Actually, I think it was the Details magazine that put the publisher over the edge but my wife wouldn’t have thought of that.

          I follow current events. Thus, I have an enormous array of “infomo” periodicals; ever letting my goss-sip-o, know what’s going on in my Shangri-La. (Did that sound gay? If it didn’t, throw three snaps back.)

          It comes from doing radio. I have to know when a celebrity, politician, or everyday knucklehead gets his ass in a crack, so I can belittle them the next morning. Plus, I like to be in the know.

          The Details and Men’s Journal is only 10 dollars a year, and if I can get one joke every 30 days for less than buck, I’m good.

          Men’s Heath is my favorite, tons of useful stuff, fitness, relationships, cuisine, two or three photos of sexy women, the picture in the educational sex video ad in the back, all done with humorous and thoughtful headlines and stories I can read in the bathroom. Men’s Fitness was because I like Men’s Heath so much I get through it in less than a month, and it was added inspiration to keep me exercising.

          I like to read, or is it the knowledge I crave? If words are close I’ll glance at them. I’ll tilt my head and be nosey.

          Are we what we read?

          I’ve been reading Men’s Health for so long, I should be fit enough to be on the cover. I guess I’m I not reading hard enough?

          I read newspapers to get the news, billboards to see manipulation, plays to study dialogue, shampoo bottles when nothing else is there, and street signs from far away to see if my eyes are going bad. I’m a junky.

          I did a running comedy bit on TV where I get footage of light up signs with the letters missing, signs that end up spelling something unintended. When the “S” is out on a Shoney’s sign, it could be a strip club called “honey’s.” When the “Ch” is out on Chick-fil-a, it’s “ick-fil-a.” When the “C” is out at Tony’s Canal Gas, it’s…you get the picture.

           Through theatre and radio, I’ve become in tuned with the spoken word. I studied accents, fluctuation, and the obligatory emphatic pause. Now, it’s the language as written. Are two of my worlds colliding? I hope, coming together.

 

       
I've been enjoyably busy. My book comes out October 1st. Please look for it.

This was something I thought was fun awhile back.


I recently did a play where a cast member gave me, Where the Red Fern Grows. This week, “Apalachicola”

With a loud crack, all the students but one jumped when they heard the 5th grade teacher slam the ruler on her desk.

       “Now that I have your attention, let’s begin. Good morning class. Today we’re going to study Florida, the 27th state. Can anyone tell me where Florida is?”     

The class sprung to life.

      The smart kids in front, stiff and rigid, quickly raised their hands, a bit smug from the years of self-reliance. The less prepared ones, unsure of such a question and not wanting to be called upon, waved timidly.

“Pick me! Pick me! Miss Renfro, pick me!”

      But, Brian, staring out the window, didn’t raise his hand, fixed on what was going on just yards away.

      Noticing, Miss Renfro wanted to engage the lackadaisical student.

      “Brian... Brian!”

      “Yes, Miss Renfro.”

      “Young man, will you please tell the class what you find so interesting, outside of that window?”

      “Um, it’s the clouds, Miss Renfro. That’s what it is. I’m, uh, looking at the clouds.”

      “Well, you do seem to have your head in them. Tell me, Mr. Wilkins, where is the city of Apalachicola?”

      Brian turns to her, his mind still not all there says, “I think it’s next to, um, half-a-glass-a-cola?”

      The classroom erupts in laughter.

      “He’s so stupid.”

      “Brian is whack.”

       “That boy, he crazy.”

       “He ain’t going to be smarter than a 5th grader.”

        Brian's attention was now back to where it belonged. He closed his eyes and started to feel the flush of embarrassment. “I’m such an idiot,” he thought to himself and sunk down into his desk.

       Walking home, books in hand, and a map of Florida folded in his back pocket, he tries to forget homeroom and what the 27th state did to him. He sees the only person his age he cares about, Sophie, a neighbor from across the street of his Shreveport, Louisiana home.

       “Not a good day today, huh, Brian?”

       “No, it sure wasn’t. But, now I do know, Apalachicola is 80 miles southwest of Tallahassee, and has over 2000 people living in it, and is named after Indians, American Indians, not the ones from Turkey.

       “Well, I thought it was funny, what you said today.”

       “Thanks, but I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

       “It was funny, anyways.”

       “Yea, I guess it was; Half-a-glass-a cola.”

       They walked down the suburban line of houses, upper-middle class, most with two stories, but Sophia, she lived in an odd dilapidated place, no curtains or things that said a lady lives here. She asked Brian, “What was it that had you so fixed on outside of the classroom?”

       Brian got excited.

       “You’re not going to believe this. Principle Young was talking to Mayor Roy and they were really going at it. They were moving their arms around and pointing to each other’s face. I heard Principle Young say, "You know those cemeteries are not to be distributed. I will make sure you don’t do it.”

       Mayor Roy then said, “I don’t care if a thousand ghosts are going to get in my way, that land is mine.” Then the mayor pushed Principle Young and stormed off in my direction. When the mayor passed the window, he saw me lookin’ and it gave me a scare. That’s when Miss Renfro asked me the question about Florida.”

       “Why didn’t you say something?”

       I couldn’t. My mind was a flutter. All I heard was Apalachicola, and then I thought, Coke-a-cola. Then I thought half-a-glass-a-cola. It just came out, Sophia.”

       “Yea, I say dumb stuff like that when I get nervous. One time, in church, I was supposed to say “Jesus Saves” and it came out, “Jesus shaves.” My daddy laughs about it all the time.”

      Brian asked, “Do you think he’s alright, Principle Young?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe we should just see what happens,” and both were now in front of their houses.

       “Well, I’ll see you later Brian.”

       “See you later, too, and don’t tell anybody what I said. OK.”

“No, I won’t.”
 Brian walked into his house feeling much better and felt relieved that the Apalachicola incident was behind him. His mother, always happy to see her only son was waiting in the kitchen and asked how his day went. He told her the always “fine,” threw his books on the table and went into the living room, turned on the TV and started to play some video games. Just as he grabbed the joysticks, he heard a knock on the door and wondered what Sophia wanted. He got up, opened the door, and it was Mayor Roy.
“Hello, Brian. Is your mother home?”