In Which We Stare Into The Void And The Void Puts On Googly Eyes And Stares Back

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Okay this is so very not easy for me, but here goes. When I was 10 years old my brother, who was 8, was accidentally electrocuted right in front of me and died. I can’t explain how difficult it is for me publicly discuss that. After he died, my family never ever, not once, mentioned his name again. I absorbed that and lived my life with an enormous scar inside that I never spoke of. R Man and I were together for years before I told him; I’ve known Diane von Austinburg since 1978 and I only mentioned it to her last year.

I’ve decided recently that that behavior was just not healthy (duh) and that I could actually speak about him and the circumstances of his death without it being a crisis. I don’t regard it as a topic of conversation, but if it’s appropriate I’m trying to no longer reflexively avoid it either.

So here’s the point, the last time my friend the Fashion Sensation was visiting, we were discussing our siblings and in general yucking it up, but I decided I would tell her the whole sad story of my baby brother. She got a very distraught look on her face and said when she was 10 years old, her 8-year-old brother was accidentally electrocuted right in front of her and died. That sort of derailed the initial conversation, but did open up a whole new fascinating line of chat.

While it certainly was interesting to realize I have a good friend who understands so clearly the PTSD that a 10-year-old child can suffer and then live with the rest of his life, the whole Twilight Zone aspect of it was unsettling, to say the least. Was it proof of parallel universes? Mmmmmaybe. It also makes me wonder what other revelations I have missed by keeping the fucked up pain of his death bottled up like pus inside me.

And now, naked guys. Because I’m tired of this trauma being a boulder I have to push uphill while simultaneously ignoring it. It is what it is and what it is is simply a part of my life. I’m trying to get on and maybe naked guys help with that, OK?

If there had been even a little of this in the gyms I went to, I would still be going.

A paragon indeed.

Our dear chum Mikey from Chaturbate complimented me on increasing the number of naked guys in last week’s post, so I will be continuing to crank out extra dick pics. Gotta give the customers what they want, amirite? Let me know if it’s too much.

I hadn’t realized Austin Wolf (a long time fave) is so much bigger than Francois Sagat (another favorite) or maybe Francois is smaller. Whatever.

Love pricks that look like they go “sproing” when you slap them.

I know it’s miserably hot, but go outside and play.

I love showers outside when it’s hot.

Well, that’s serious.

Thicc, as the kids say nowadays. Do they still say that?

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

11 responses »

  1. Fuck! That is certainly a trauma you have kept bottled-up for such a long time. My heart goes out to you, Peenee. I hope the “great release” helps, in a small way, at least. Jx

    PS #6, against a tree, would certainly provide fabulous stress-relief…

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  2. Mr. P., I’m sorry about your brother and that you felt you had to keep quiet about his death for so long. Go ahead and talk about it as much as you want. We’ll listen. Hell, it’s cheap therapy. (We may be cheap, but we’re not easy — usually.)

    Naked guys do help with just about anything. I have some chores Model #9 could help me with….

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  3. When you hear stories like this, it can be hard not to think that there’s some big book somewhere where the author had placed a same colored star by your name & Diane’s. Un-fucking-believable.

    It is my hope that the crap that our parents & their parents held onto, keeping them locked up & miserable has died with them. I know, I’m asking a lot.

    Cannot imagine what you both went through. A number of years back, my delightful brother shot his boss & then killed himself. La-dee-dah.

    I did like how you followed Mr Sproing with his pensive opposite.

    💜

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  4. I was going to lead with how shocked I was to learn this about Peenee after so many years of us being friends, but holy shit, Norma! That’s awful. Both are awful. Life hands us oft times MUCH too much.

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  5. Sorry to hear that. They’re very stoic from that generation “See all, hear all, say nowt” sort of mentality. I asked my Great Aunt Alice why she never had any children and she replied matter of factly that she had a son, died when he was 3 months old, and that was it, but when asked about the dogs she once owned there’d be no shutting her up, there’s nowt so queer as folk.

    Nice array of men, I’ll have them all.

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  6. What a thing to have happened and keep in your head all this time because your family didn’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry, Mr Peenee.
    I can’t imagine there are many conversations in which sharing something like that can feel appropriate/’right’, but you’re right that it’s certainly not something to avoid*. Particularly (and peculiarly), as it turns out, because we’re never as alone in our experiences as we think. I hope your subsequent chat with the Fashion Sensation helped both of you.**

    *ln the interests of sharing/non-avoidance, on the odd occasions when the topic of conversation turns to such things, the most I ever mention about my most recent partner is that he died. But what I really want to say very matter-of-factly is “my partner hanged himself nine years ago just before he knew I was coming round so he knew his body would be found quickly and his dogs would be taken care of.”
    While I rarely think about what he did now, I do still have regrets that I wasn’t in a position to take in the dogs at the time (they did go to a good home, though).

    **Sorry if that came out really craply – I’m an emotional robot when it comes to people (but not animals. Or plants, strangely…)

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  7. Mr. Peenee, I’m so very sorry to hear about your family tragedy (and your friend’s!) I don’t understand this whole attitude of not mentioning those that have passed. Is the reasoning behind it that if they’re never spoken about, they have never existed therefore there is no pain? My father used to do that with my mother (who died of cancer when I was 9) He said it was “too painful” until I pulled him up on it and demanded fun stories. He got over it and talking about her helped me tremendously and him too. Sending big hugs from La Diva Cucina (I just found your new wordpress site, glad to see you and the boys are still at it! swoon!)

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