Screeve - Queer Writing For A Queer World

The Beat Of The Drum

By Taran Geary

I don’t usually write stuff down. But I just have to tell someone what happened to me. Don’t get excited, it’s no biggie; in fact next to the London bombs and Iraq it’s pretty damn trivial. But it’s important to me, I’m not gonna tell you too much about me because I know what you net lurkers are like- I’ll probably find you camped out on the front lawn by Thursday: No, sorry that’s unfair, I’ve met some nice people on the net- I’ve met some weirdoes too mind, including one bloke who wanted me to… well I won’t go into that. But anyway I decided to write this as I think it, no corrections. “Stream of Consciousness” our English lit teacher calls it so here goes, if it don’t scan like Shakespeare tough shit don’t write to me complaining because I’m not changing nothing!

Look at that 155 words and I haven’t even told you my name. That’s no surprise because my name has been nothing but humiliation since the day I could first say it. If I told you that my family name is Mason and that my Dad is an old hippie Pink Floyd fan then I’ll bet pocket money that you know what my first name is: Have you got it? Yep, I am Nick Mason! So, you think why not use your middle name? Well that’s even worse! It’s Perry! I bet Mum & Dad had a real laugh around the font when I was christened.

The worst time is during the annual school fundraiser when at least 47 people will come up to me and ask me to help because I could “Drum up some support” and those same 47 people will, when I refuse, tell me to “Beat it”. Cue gales of helpless laughter.

I only saw Nick Mason once and he was a fat smug bloke showing off his latest car on “Top Gear” that he’d bought with enough money to pay off most third world debt. I wasn’t impressed and I made up my mind then to change my name. I dunno what to though I haven’t thought about again till now. Anyway, I’m rambling.

I guess I should delete that last paragraph but I’ll stick to my guns, Stream of Consciousness”. I’m 16, and I suppose I’m short for my age at 5’ 1”- I guess a lot of the stories I read on the net could have been written about me “16 years old, short for his age, timid and shy” except I’m not timid and shy. The only thing I’m timid and shy about is people knowing that I fancy other boys. Shit! I wasn’t going to bring that up till later. So now you know.

I don’t fancy the sporty, muscley types. I go more for personality and most of the sportsmen I’ve met don’t have any at all. The boy I’ve always fancied most is Jonathan Chapman, not just because I like the name Jonathan which I do, but because he is interesting as well as being nice looking with a gorgeous smile. He is a music buff and I managed to wangle a visit to his house and he showed me his room. All the walls were covered with cd racks; the only bit’s that weren’t were the door and the window and the bit where his bed sat against the wall and even under his bed were trunks full of cd’s. “The ones I don’t play so much any more.” If you named a song he would tell you who sang it, what label it was on, the year it came out and it’s chart position. He took great delight in telling me that Pink Floyd hold the record for the longest time between entries in the singles chart- My bloody name interferes in everything I do. I will definitely change it as soon as I’m 18. But back to Jonathan, he fascinates me and he took me along on one of his trips to London and we spent the day scouring obscure little record shops. Which was ok for a while but I wanted to go to Soho so I could bring up the subject of sex. But he seemed totally oblivious and in all the time I’ve spent with him the subject of sex has never even been hinted at which is a real downer.

The other boy I really fancy is Mark Simmonds. He is a rather strange other worldly creature who doesn’t so much walk as flit. He is always alone and I think that is what draws me to him. I’m not alone, but I am lonely, I guess that’s why I’m writing this to invisible friends who I like to believe I know.

A strange thing about Mark Simmonds is that everyone calls him “Mark Simmonds” never just “Mark” or “Simmonds” or even “Simmo”. And everyone leaves him alone. No one bullies him or lets his tyres down, everyone gives him a wide berth. This is since the incident in the Gym. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t a lot: We were all fourteen and our year bully was Philip Cafferey a horrible bastard who would beat the shit out of anyone for no particular reason and everyone was scared of him- including me and Mark Simmonds. One day Philip started on Mark Simmonds and knocked him about pretty badly. I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t go to help because I was bricking it big time. Mark Simmonds had some nasty bumps and bruises but nothing life threatening and life went on pretty much as before. Then at Friday afternoon break time there was a commotion in the gym so we all rushed in and there was Philip Cafferey hanging upside down by one leg from the climbing ropes stark naked, crying his eyes out and screaming for help. He was got down and after that he was a changed man; I’m not saying he became a model student but he left everyone alone from then on. No one knew what happened, Philip wasn’t saying but we all suspected Mark Simmonds had something to do with it. I asked him once and all he said was “I’m sure I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about” which, of course, told me he knew perfectly well what I was talking about. The trouble with Mark Simmonds is that you can’t get near him. He is polite to you but cold. I guess he just prefers his own company. I wonder who he thinks about when he wanks. If he wanks. I shouldn’t have said that, should I?

So I suppose you could say that I make life pretty difficult for myself. I could join the gym club and hang around the changing rooms with loads of half naked sportsmen stinking of Wintergreen and fake tan and get my jollies that way but that’s not for me. But I’m pissed off with being lonely. There is a gay pub in town but I’ve never been in it. I don’t look 14 let alone 18 so I doubt I would get in anyway. When I feel really low I just go for a walk vainly hoping that I might bump in to some like minded stranger who would whisk me away on a flight of passion and rough, violent sex and have me home in time for my tea. But of course that never happens and I just go home and please myself; usually dreaming of Jonathan tossing himself off over the latest edition of the “Guinness Book Of Hit Singles”. Life is a bastard sometimes. I would love to toss him off either with or with out the book. I wouldn’t mind either way. I sometimes dream of him and me in bed together and the walls are tiled with cds. And in the middle of the ceiling is a mirror ball also made of cds and as we roll and squirm on the bed together the light shimmies and parries around the room reflected from the myriad of little silver discs scattered about.

My god! Did I just write that? It sounds like one of my Mum’s Mills and Boon’s! Not that I’ve ever read any of them of course. Well I have actually, but then you knew that, didn’t you. I guess it goes with the territory. I think I’m losing control of this thing. I might have to break my rule and do some editing. I’ll see how it goes.

Most people think, and I’m inclined to agree with them sometimes, that I’m a little bit slow on the uptake. It was at least a year after getting a computer that I realized you could actually talk to people with it and that there were people just like me out there somewhere who I could tell anything to and it wouldn’t matter a damn because they don’t know me from Adam. I became a chat room junkie for while but I pulled back a bit after that bloke I mentioned earlier wanted me to… well never mind about that. Even if I told them my real name no one would believe me. But usually I log on with a stupid name like everyone else.

Now you must remember this is writing on the fly and I’ve made a major fuck up. I’ve written the whole of this thing in the wrong tense. Who says English grammar is a waste of time? So I’m switching now. Hold tight changes may cause turbulence!

Grow up Mason you tit!

I found a couple of regional type chat rooms but I got the feeling that most of the people on them were old pervs looking for a young guy to shag and dump and possibly worse. Some of them were actually quite scary so I never got involved however tempting the offer was. That bloke who wanted me to… well whatever, he offered me £250. But I never went to that place again. Then one day I found one for my town! I couldn’t believe it. I went a few times but as I expected it was empty but I put it in my favorites folder and I went back to it from time to time.

Back at school, things just carried on as normal. Mark Simmonds floated about on his cloud seemingly oblivious to everything. I couldn’t shake my fascination for him but I knew I was wasting my time. Jonathan was still friendly but all he talked about was his music and sometimes it got a bit wearing. My only other really close friend was Simon Robinson and we’d known each other for years almost as long as we’d been at school. When his hormones kicked in (A full year ahead of me) he suddenly became obsessed by sex though sadly girl sex and he talked non-stop comparing the girls’ tits and how he thought they’d feel. This rapidly became very tiresome. All this added to my growing sense of isolation. I sat in front of my computer trawling newsgroups for hot pictures of men but there was nothing new. I was bored with the fixed smiles and forced poses and the looks that said plainly “You know of course, I’m only doing this for the money so that my poor widowed mother in Siberia can afford incontinence pants.” So I switched again to the chat rooms: HE was there, the bloke I don’t want to talk about. He latched straight on to me and repeated his offer only he upped it to £300. I closed that window and decided as a last resort to try the local ones... There was nothing of interest in the regional so I tried the town one as a last resort.

SHOCK, HORROR!

There was someone in the town room. It was not a name I recognized and I tried to think of a witty opening remark:

“Hi.” I failed miserably. There was an agonizingly long wait before a reply came back.

“Hi”. I racked my brain to think of something original to say instead of the usual “Where are you?”

“Where are you?” I typed in; again I failed miserably. Again an agonizing wait before he named the town I lived in.

“How old are you?”

“16” Yeh right and I’m Leonardo DeCaprio. I tried to think of a way to prove him.

“What school you go to?” Success! I finally got it right. Then he named my school! I sat stunned and stared at the screen for long silent minutes; then the bleep from him

“What about You?”

“Same age, same school.” Long silence

“Bollocks! You bullshitting me.”

“No. Truth.”

“What’s your name?” Another long pause as I worried to do the right thing.

“You first.” Once again that agonizing wait praying that he doesn’t log out.

“Let’s meet.” Fuck me! This is getting heavy. I thought about all the good advice I’d been given about meeting people on the net and how it was best to get to know someone a bit before meeting them and to always tell someone where you’re going. I finally decided that sensible thing to do would be to decline.

“OK, where?” In my case dick rules brain. He named a local park with a Victorian bandstand and he said he would be standing on the bandstand so that I could see he was by himself. I told my parents I was going for a walk and I slipped out into the cold night. It should have taken about 15 minutes to reach the park. But I stopped several times and started to walk back but I always ended back on the original road. I entered the park and I could see the bandstand dimly lit by the sodium lamps.

There was no one there.

I slowly followed the path around the perimeter of the park so that I would be able to see if there was anyone out of sight behind the bandstand. I walked right around and saw no one so I slowly walked across the grass and climbed the steps up to the band platform. I leaned on the railings and cursed myself for being so stupid. Either he’d been and gone or he was watching from somewhere and I was going to suffer next day at school.

I stood leaning for several minutes, not sure what to do then I saw a figure walking briskly towards the bandstand I couldn’t see who it was because he had a hoodie on and he walked with his head bowed. I started to get nervous; I didn’t recognize the person at all but the light was so poor that I probably wouldn’t have recognized my own Mum.

He was so intent on his journey to the bandstand that he appeared to not notice me at all. He mounted the steps and then looked up at me just as I recognized him and a cold chill ran through me as I found myself looking into the bright blue eyes of… Philip Cafferey

“Fuck me, Mason!” he gasped.

“Aren’t you at least gonna take me out to dinner first?” My attempt at humor was misplaced and misjudged.

He looked blank for a moment.

“What are you doing here? He asked warily.

“I’m meeting someone”

“Who?”

“I think very probably you.”

“Whatja mean?” I spoke the internet name my liaison had used. “Dunno what your talking about.” He looked phased and nervous.

“Ok”, I said. “My mistake”, and I turned and started down the steps.

“Mason,” he spoke barely above a whisper. I stopped and looked over my shoulder towards him. “Can we go somewhere?”

“Sure.”

We headed for the gay pub and since it was quiet I was allowed in. Philip told me all about himself and I must say that he’d had a very rough time of it and he finally told me what happened in the gym that day. Apparently Mark Simmonds brother is a hypnotist and they hijacked Philip after lunch and worked on him all afternoon until finally, totally exhausted he succumbed to the hypnosis, He remembers climbing the rope and tying it around his leg then he blacked out. And since then one of Mark Simmonds’ brother’s colleagues has been giving him counseling hence his change of lifestyle and his coming to terms with being gay.

So there you are. There’s my little story. But the best bit is me and Philip are officially an item! And have been for two months now!

Nick