In my younger days, I was a wiry stick of dynamite, always ready to explode. Sparks emitted from me that started fires of many kinds. Fires in the eyes of Jerry Devine, who saw me as a golden idol that would line his pockets, as long as enough people bowed down to worship. Fires in the heart of Brian Slade who saw me as a diamond in the rough, who he would pluck from the dark mine of addiction, polish me, show me off to the world, and then toss me away when he discovered my flaws and mortal cracks. Fires in the loins of boys and girls alike, gazing at me on stage like someone who admires an exotic silver bangle in the window of a SoHo shop. Eyes glowing, they wanted to touch me, try me on, hold me, pass me around, feel me against their skin, even take me home for awhile. But none wanted to pay the price of keeping me, none ever seemed to recognize the worth that lay beneath the tarnish. Not even Brian, who wore me the longest and proudest of anyone up to that time.
So for all the glitter and sparkle of the early 70's, my heart had become dull and my eyes no longer shone.
When humans are deprived of the love of others, they become hardened, distant, disconnected, andemotionally frozen This was starting to happen to me. Ever since I was young I had wanted more than anything to be loved, and yet time and again I suffered the wrenching pain of being loved briefly, superficially, then pushed away by those who were supposed to love me forever.
To a certain degree I thrived on paina strange need brought on by the alteration of my brain chemistry from my nightmarish stint at the sanitarium. The jolts of electricity violated every orifice of my tender body like a ruthless pedophile who rapes and leaves for dead a young innocent. Like any survivor of rape, my personality, emotions and thought patterns would be deeply affected, forever changed. Pain was all I knew for such a large part of my life that for all its horror, it had come to feel natural. I had learned to embrace it.
However, my acceptance of pain did not mean that it was all that I wanted to feel. It did not mean that I did not want happiness. It did not mean that I wanted to rot from the inside out from loneliness, abuse, abandonment and low self-esteem. Although I often went to dark places in my mind, I was always reaching toward the light. Or trying to, anyway.
The moment came in 1975 when I decided to stop reaching toward the light. The elusive butterfly of my happiness had been caught in a cruel net. It was pierced and its shimmering wings were torn and roughly pinned to a display board. Darkness, despair and unhappiness seemed to pursue me like some mad demon, and I was tired of running, tired of fighting. Fuck it. Let it catch me, overtake me, sink its black talons into me. Let the sadness wash over me in a flood. I would not try to swim or even stay afloat. I would inhale deeply, letting it fill my lungs, drown me, rob me of life. I would hasten the glorious journey to permanent unconsciousness with one last drug binge. My last one ever.
It was the eve of the Death of Glitter concert, and I figured I had one more chance to declare my passion for Brian, whether he was there or not. If he did not hear me, then at least he would be sure to hear of my performance, because I intended to pour myself into it with such violence, such anger, and yet such tenderness that it would not soon be forgotten. I was prepared to scream out my devastation until my vocal cords were raw and torn. My heart would bleed so hard on stage that everyone observing would be splattered with the remains of my heartbreak.
Then I would work my down the back alleys of the London neighborhood, to Jack Fairy's flat, lock myself in my room, and fucking pump my bloodstream so full of heroin that not only would the pain stop but so would my heart. I did not have anything to offer life, and it was quite obvious that life did not have anything to offer me.
I walked into the theater that night and saw a boy who, at first glance, reminded me of Brian. I was lost in my own thoughts, but I did notice this boy, and it was his own unique beauty that got my attention. Thick brown hair, and velvety brown eyes to match, eyes that floated down and softly landed on me the minute I arrived. Eyes that never left me the entire night.
The way he looked at me was with the typical awe of a glam fan-boy. His kind were a dime-a-dozen and I was used to swatting them off like flies, so it irked me that I kept glancing in his direction, taking in a different feature every time. I noticed his lips protruded slightly, in a pouty sort of way. His skin was flawless and it glowed. I almost wanted to tentatively reach out and run the back of my hand gently over his arm, just to see if it felt as silky as it looked. Maybe even let my fingers wander up and graze his neck lightly, my thumb lingering on his lips, letting it slip in between slightly to caress the tip of his warm tongue... I took a drag off my cigarette and laughed to myself bitterly. Some teenage fan was getting me all hot and bothered, and in a few minutes I was going on stage to sing my farewell to Brian, and well, to life. After that I ignored the boy.
Mandy greeted me after the show, and we exchanged embraces and tears. I caught the kid looking at me again, this time with a searching look in his eyes. A little while later, I felt my breath quicken as I looked over and saw him looking at me so hard, like he could see into me. Like he knew all my secrets, fears, pains, desires. I felt exposed, vulnerable, and incredibly turned on. This was a different look than the one he was giving me before the show. There was a knowing look in his eyes now–the excited fan-boy gawking had been replaced by a calm steady penetrating gaze. I felt as if he were undressing me with his eyes, but at the same time it was more than sexual–he was not just peeling off the layers of clothing, but my soul it seemed.
I struggled to put things in perspective. I had to force myself to face the fact that...well, Brian had never really looked at me. His blue eyes, always like icicles, were so cold they burned, leaving frozen spots all over me that melted quickly from the heat of my passion for him. But rather than feel Brian's warm gaze upon me at any given time, it was more like the feel of him running an ice cube over my most sensitive areas–thrilling for a moment, but then ultimately leaving me with a chill. During our time together, Brian had glanced at me, ogled me, leered at me, sneered at me, glared at me, stared me down, and most often, looked down his nose at me. But never really looked into my heart.
Brian had never really looked at me.
It was not a pleasant thing to have to acknowledge about my Demon-lover, the blue-haired incubus who had eclipsed me with his brightness but at the same time made me shine like a new star. This wizard of guitar-string fellatio who turned my days into nights and my nights into days; my dreams into realities and my realities into dreams. He was my world for awhile, but I had to face many ugly truths about Brian after our break-up, one of which was how superficial our relationship had been, and how little he really new me.
This young waif who was looking at me backstage seemed to be trying to turn me inside out with his heavily painted, glittering eyes. This dark street angel, without laying a finger on me, was caressing me with his gaze, so softly and yet so insistently that I had the sensation of being bound with silk scarves. It sent shivers up and down my body. He had such a strong pull that I felt drawn to him in a way that amazed me.
"I'll go up to the roof and get some fresh air. Collect my thoughts", I lied to myself. After all, I had lost the desire to live, right? But I had a feeling about this boy that outweighed anything else I was feeling that night. As I sat there smoking, I felt a rush of pleasure as I saw that he had followed me. I watched his lanky body move towards me with some hesitation. He had a sort of beauty that I had never experienced before, one that came from deep inside of him and flowed out with a seductive warmth . What radiated from him was a tender vulnerability mixed with a dark sensuality. I felt that warmth seeping into me and wrapping itself around my frozen heart, and I already had an addict's craving for it.
I pulled this beautiful creature close to me, and he shyly responded to me with such love, blossoming under my touch. I laughed to myself as I found myself wondering what my life was gonna be like now. Because I knew that as long as this boy was walking the earth, I was not going anywhere.