2022 Entry #015 01-30-22 “Gay Sex in the 70s” is a 2005 American documentary film about gay sexual culture in New York City in the 1970s; which specifically focuses on the years between Stonewall and AIDS (roughly 1969 – 1981). The film was directed by Joseph Lovett, who produced the documentaries “In a New Light: A Call to Action in the War Against AIDS” & “Rock Bottom: Gay Men & Meth”. The film uses archival footage and interviews to illuminate the world of gay anonymous and casual sex in various settings, such as dance clubs, bathhouses, bars, Fire Island, etc. Interviewees include Larry Kramer, Tom Bianchi, Barton Lidice Beneš, Rodger McFarlane, and many others.
I purchased this when it was a new DVD release and though I only watched it once back then, I remembered that I enjoyed it. I specifically remembered that the documentary did a good job with framing this time of sexual liberation and explaining why such personal freedom was revelatory and only made sense. Watching it again now, like other films in this project, I have a greater insight into much of the New York setting. I’ve lived in New York for almost 10 years. I’ve been to Fire Island multiple times. I’ve seen what’s left of the piers depicted in the film and I’ve marched in the Pride Parade 4 times.
The New Order whispers into my ears of 22 year old hauntings in Jewish boarding houses, communal showers and a seemingly gay 1963 assassination.
Behind the whispers are Dominican conversations, New York realness, Subway tuna on flat bread and yogurt scooped in Harlem train station, only a few blocks from the famous Cotton Club.
Hypnotic androids devour the starving amidst a pride of dykes who clearly believe that orange really is the new black.
All American Boy croons as I make my mistake, as I make my escape, but I will return so save me my seat.
The green wild of summer is fading between us, as the young horned lord smiles at our recognition.
The lilting, hissing piping of ancient heating system.
We’ve been together here before, haven’t we?
So strange at first, that tremulous meeting of strangers, only we’re old friends now, aren’t we?
We know one another.
This place, this collection of rooms is more than what it was when I first entered.
You were spotless… though clearly brutalized, hungry, lonely and welcoming.
You had known others, just as I had; no virgin blood would be spilt on our account.
I wasn’t sure how much I liked you then, but I put on a brave face and did my best because as broken as we were, we both had our needs and the desire to satisfy them.
It was kind of you to select me, despite my noncommittal attitude.
I’m not certain what quality you saw in me… I’ve no idea what ignited your interest and we’ve never spoken of it.
Most of our time is spent silently, if urgently.
In the moment of our joining you were like a part of me that I’d yet to explore.
You gave me shelter in your embrace even as you fed off my desperation.
I understand that our relationship has never truly been romantic but I can appreciate you, can’t I?
I can miss you when I’m gone and recognize how much you’ve helped bring me peace.
This solace, this sweetness cannot truly be forever…
You know it as well as I.
This imbues our activity with a delicate urgency; bereft of permanence we exist in a fleeting moment of movement, connection, separation and acknowledgement of all that we are, which is somehow not diminished, but is actually heightened by all that we lack.
Hold me.
Hold me here as we whisper heated words between only the two of us,
Knowing one day I must walk away from you and find the strength to never again return,
Knowing that I’ll never again be inside of you though a part of me will remain here forever.
Hush now. Don’t weep.
We will not end when we part, you and I.
My silent echo will fill you, completing the circuit between us; never quite actualizing, ghosting us forever until the end of our days.
No one will guess when they see us. No one will sense the stain that we’ve left on one another.
Memory, our only souvenir will be a secret we take to our graves.
But I will always hear you in the piping sounds of autumn, like Pan, greeting me in the desiccated ruin of the green.
But come now, come and let us make the most of nights remaining, when we may know one another without fear, sadness or shame.
You have entered me, as surely as I have penetrated, you are inside of me, and we will know one another for as long as we can remember.
Written by Jason Wright October 26, 2017
This is a love poem dedicated to our NYC apartment on Wadsworth Avenue in Washington Heights. It was written listening to the soundtrack to the 2015 Todd Haynes film “Carol” by Carter Burwell, after watching the movie at home for the first time after seeing it in theaters.
