Thoughts on the Month

Back home from a rejuvenating MsC (a conference in the DC area for Dominant and submissive folk), manning the book tables with my friend Dr Robert Rubel. (If you're interested in such things, his Protocal books are top drawer material.) While I only did so-so for sales, what was terrific about the weekend was reconnecting with many men and women that I only see once per year, and this year to hear Laura Antoniou deliver a snarky but moving keynote address. There seemed to be an influx of writers this time around; the first time Master Taino invited me to offer books six years ago, it was just me, this year there were three authors' tables (myself, Dr Bob and Alfred Publications), with specific Author Roundtables with Guy Baldwin, David Stein, Jay Wiseman, Laura and a few others.

It's been almost 10 years since I've had an opportunity to sit and chat with Guy, so that was a most welcome conversation. So was getting to visit with David, whose new book "Ask The Man Who Owns Him" led my table for sales. David (also the author of the Leatherotica classic "Carried Away") traveled the country to interview real-life gay male Master/slave couples, and the new book chronicles their lives and relationships. Had I brought more than 20 copies, there would have been several additional happy readers. Another book that sold through was Alfred Publishing's Protocol Guide from the House of Jack McGeorge, the passing of whom was heavy on everyone's heart.

Jack's death was one of four to really affect the members of Master Taino's organization. "Bill'O" and Sir Steve (a brilliant accountant) were also friend of mine who left us in the last 12 months. In something of that regard, the MsC has become a place to recharge. August has, for the last three years, been a very cruel month to me. I have lost my original Master, an ex-lover/Daddy, a mentor, a confidant and an inspirational figure in the last three Augusts. Two years ago, when Master Gary Gordon Taylor died, I felt like someone had pulled a part of my center out with an apple corer. But when I went to the 2007 MsC and told people there that I'd lost my Master, they understood.

The following year, it was Larry Townsend, who had encouraged me to write and publish (even writing an endorsement for the back cover of my second collection of short stories). Master Taino invited me to light a memorial candle at the conference for both Larry and Master Gary, which I accepted. When I crossed the stage to do so, I wore a pair of leather pants that Master Gary had left me, a T-Shirt designed by Peter "Rubber Bear" Tolos and a vest made for me by Wayne Griffin, who taught me leathercraft, so that each of them was with me at that altar. Lighting the two candles was not just for Larry and Master Gary, it was for them, my confidant Rob Cole, my ex Ronnie Borders, my original mentor Paul "Papa Bear" Sehm and so many others. And this year, Jack's family (both of his house and his children) were there with us to commemorate their Dad's work.

The significance of how we see these kind of men in our lives was brought to me forcibly in mid-August. In 1994, I had just lost Paul to cancer, Master Gary had been arrested and I was feeling very lost. A piercer had set up a booth on the Faultline Bar patio, and I decided to give myself a reminder of pushing forward in adversity. It may sound silly, but I got my ear pierced that night for that reason. That little gold stud had been in my ear almost the entire time since, until it popped out at my work desk and vanished. I literally tore my desk apart trying to find that little stud, to no avail. I down spun into a depression for the next 24 hours, realizing that this tiny symbolic drop of gold metal that had lived in my earlobe for the last 15 odd years had disappeared.

I told myself that I would not put anything back in that space until I could find something relevant. About a week later, at the 50th anniversary of the Newport Folk Festival, one of the vendors had small, sterling silver Peace Symbols. (Hey, it's a folk festival. LOTS of old hippies abound! Also, I have a huge collection of Tie-dye shirts.) But that is what resonated. I am often restless and even more frequently knee-deep in the sadness pool, so the thought of a small symbol of peace going forward, inner or otherwise, would be just as important as the 15 year old reminder of strength in my past. I can see it in the morning and touch it in the day.

That reminder, like the wearing of leathers from past lovers and mentors, grounds me. I have a past that is very left of center. The MsC (and although it conflicted with it this year, my fellow Delta Club brothers) offers me the very physical reinforcement about our nature and our connections. In fact, I probably get more hugs and kisses from women during MsC weekend than I do for the rest of the year (and there's a very goofy picture that was taken of me that I may or may not post later...it will scare the mice from your basement), so the support I (and the other attendees) pick up during the weekend helps me hold on to my desire to create, to chronicle and to document. And to remember to love the living, to touch them, laugh and tell them what they mean to me now.