R Man

I have spent most of the evening attempting to organize the vast mess my collection of photos has devolved into over the last couple of decades.  Listening to Nina Simone seems appropriate; the fucking cat insisting on being in the middle of all my little OCD piles is not.  Plus, even without Saki rearranging them, the piles seem to have become sort of vague.  A twelve year old mrpeenee in Matamoros; a wedding in Las Vegas where mrpeenee was the matron of Honor only because the bride was operating under the misapprehension that I was willing to appear in drag as such (to be fair, there are several piles that includes shots of mrpeenee in Ladies Wear); the gardens of Chezz peenee through the years.  So many pictures, so few good ones.

And so much R Man.  I have, of late, become aware that the pain of his absence is lessened.  I still miss him in an achy sort of way, but it's amazing what you can get accustomed to.  It's like being resigned to a big hole in my life.  Anyway, here he is in Venice in '95

Isn't he handsome?  Achy.


And his high school graduation photo, Mr. Class President and football team and all that.  I've always been struck that this version of him would most certainly have despised and avoided the faggy teenage loser I was, but just a few years later we were settling, sort of tentatively, into domestic bliss.  Thank god, in my case at least, for the forgiving editing process of time and all that.

And then I ran across this, one of my all time faves, a relic from some long ago foot surgery and which, most assuredly, would never have been allowed out loose on this blog while he still had veto power.  Heehee