Devon Hunter

I just got back from seeing the midnight screening of Michael Jackson’s “This Is It.” You really must see it… He was such a funny person. I love his artistry. I love his humanity. It was a wonderful production, and that the performances never happened before audiences is really a shame.

Tonight I got a post on my Pimpology entry from Mom. She has interacted here on the site some, but not for a while, and I’d forgotten she reads what I post. At any rate, I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge how very lucky I am to have the family I have. They never discouraged me when I said I wanted to be a choreographer; they never doubted any of my ideas or plans; they never even implied that my being gay was remotely an issue (except at first there was a concern for my safety in the rural South, but it wasn’t an issue of being disowned); and they never judged me for making the career choices I made (since they know me, and know that I have very good reasons/intentions for going in various directions)…

My mother (and many people probably think this as well, but I know I’m right - HA!) is the single most amazing human being I’ve ever known. She is patient, generous, selfless, kind, and thoughtful. She is sensitive, intelligent, and creative. And I’m not the only person who thinks so. Mom is the kind of person that you want to love, and you want her to love you back, because she’s so talented at it. She doesn’t try to be all of this - she is simply good, and she’s adept at encouraging it in others. She is beautiful, on many levels… though I never appreciated her strange diet fads, until I was older and started experimenting with my own. She may never live down that bowl of cold apple juice with brown rice and bananas…

Perhaps it’s a gay stereotype to deify one’s mother, but Mom reminds me of The Mother. I don’t want to imply that I think my mother is perfect, because that would render her less human. My primary fear for my mother is that she is too kind for this world. There are so many people who do not deserve the pleasure of having known her. However,  I am glad she is here with us, and I definitely think that if more people built their houses around the pre-existing trees on their lots, took time to trim rose bushes on a daily basis, chose kindness before revenge, ate almost exclusively raw fruits and veggies, illustrated children’s books/sewed stuffed animals from scratch for their kids and grandkids, and used a large glass of water and/or tea tree oil as the first choice for almost any complaint that needs a remedy… well… the world would be a better place.

(fade up to Star Wars theme song by John Williams)

Okay, sorry for the overly dramatic beginning. Well, my roommate got my car started, and all the electrical bugs got fixed, but the Miata ended up costing me $500 more anyway: The rear brake calipers started leaking, and they sprayed brake fluid all over the brake pads… Long story short: Had to get new brake pads (which were more than 50% worn anyway, so no biggie - they would have needed replacing anyway soon), but I also had to get new brake calipers. But the car drives like a dream again. Just have to figure out where the water is coming from that is flooding the floor panel under the passenger seat… HMMMM! Anyway, there you have it.

BUT!!

There is something wonderful to share: While I was getting my brakes fixed I went to lunch. At the table next to me were two of the happiest women I’d seen in a long time. They were having such a good time together. OMG! Their energy was captivating. They were laughing deep in their bellies, and it was like listening to music. They had beautifully braided hair, and their dresses were covered in colorful African (or African inspired) designs. Their bangled jewelry clinked like little bells every time they’d throw their hands up in hysterics. They were so happy!

“I’m sorry to interrupt you.”

“Yes?” one said with a delightful glitter in her saucy eyes.

“I’ve been having a rough time lately, and, although I’m not listening to your conversation, I can’t help but overhear how happy you both are. I just wanted to tell you that I feel better for having heard real friendship next to me.”

“AWWW! That is so sweet! And you know what, baby? Whatever is getting you down… It’ll pass.”

“I think it just did.”

Now… time to go pack some boxes, so I can start moving into the new home I’ve found for me and Sméagol. He’s playing in the tape and cardboard: He’s always so happy to see all the new places to hide and ambush me from. His collar jingles as he’s playing, and it reminds me of the laughter of the two friends.

I feel good.

This week I’m in Washington, D.C. helping with various Pride activities to which I committed myself. Last night was an event I’d not originally planned on being part of, but I’m really excited I got to be here nonetheless. Last night Dr. Terry, the man behind the FUK!T campaign, hosted a fundraiser here at The Artists’ Inn Residence for an organization that is planning to open a permenant museum for LGBTQ history that will be opening in the capital soon. The guest of honor was Frank Kameny, one of the single most important figures in the Gay Rights movement of the United States.

Dr. Frank Kameny is one of those people about whom not enough is said, especially by younger LGBTQ people who (through little fault of their own) know almost nothing about their community’s history. Kameny is one of the first, if not THE first, full time Gay Liberation activists. He holds a doctorate in astronomy from Harvard, and was fired in the 1950’s from his federal job for being homosexual. Kameny immediately began writing letters and protested his dismissal to the Supreme Court. He began picketing and protesting in front of the White House and Pentagon years prior to the Stonewall Riots of 1969 in New York City. When you see 1960’s era black and white footage of people marching on the sidewalks in D.C. in support of LGBTQ rights, that is film of Kameny and his friends/allies.

And I got to meet him! IN PERSON! OMG! It’s the equivalent of meeting Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King, Jr. It’s like meeting Susan B. Anthony or César Chávez. This is a big deal! I can’t believe it… I was punch crazy all night - I’d not been drinking, but I was excited, giggly, energetic… And then I realized something: This is what Pride feels like. HAPPY PRIDE!

The title of this entry comes from a song by Madonna about her (then) newly born daughter. It seems fitting for a number of reasons. Before I go into what’s on my mind, I should first apologize for not blogging sooner: I had promised some wonderful stories, and all you got was silence. Let me explain…

Perhaps you have noticed that two separate times now there has been a listing in my bookings for San Diego called “Career Exploration” or something equally cryptic. I should go ahead and explain, for those who didn’t click the link to see what it was all about, that I have done two videos for the Sean Cody site. One is a solo video, the other is a duo. I am getting fatigued of driving to far away clubs just to have to hope that there will be a crowd with people who like me and are willing to tip. This is a modality of adult entertainment that is new to me. And I had some adjusting to do in my head. I will continue doing it as long as they call me. But it muddied the waters for me at first.

After my solo video everything was fine. But there are multiple layers of complication associated with the duo, and it has taken me a week to come back into balance. At the base of my turmoil was not guilt or shame for having done the videos, because I’m actually quite proud to have been recruited by Sean Cody. Think of it as one of the highest compliments I could have been given in my career field. What has been gnawing at me is the real fear that I am going to look totally pathetic compared to my scene fellow.

He showed up looking like a tank. In his pics he was slender, toned, and boyish with a floppy haircut. He arrived with a cropped dome, muscles nearly bursting from under his skin, and a tan so dark that I felt very pale by comparison. How is it possible for a 20-year-old to put on at least 20, if not 30, pounds of compact lean muscle in less than a year??? I felt like a grub next to him. I felt like Gollum.

He was straight, and that (along with many other layers of complication) made it difficult after the first four hours to keep an erection. The last three hours in particular were almost botched by my near inability to maintain appearances. This is definitely work. It isn’t sexy to do, but the editing process will take the 120 minutes captured from the 7-hour shoot, and refine it down to a polished 15-minute fantasy. Good enough. I’ll be pleased just to not look like a wimp beside the super-sized Fuller.

All this was very upsetting. But I have a brilliant friend who feeds me some of the most beautiful imagery at the times I need it most. As frustrating as it must be to have to repeat the same conversation over and over, she still keeps on trying to help me understand that I’m a star, and that I shine pretty brightly. She also reminds me with what must be desensitizing frequency that I am also full of love.

The wonderful extended metaphor I got from this person went something like this: You are like Apollo. You go flying by like a blinding light! You glow so brightly. You are so hot. But you’ve completely removed yourself from this place, almost like a star surrounded by the cold vacuum of space. You are a huge ball of beautiful energy, but no one can touch you. That must be very lonely.

It can be. Another reason I took so long to blog is because of something that happened on Facebook. My first boyfriend - I mean THE VERY FIRST - found me. That needs a totally separate entry. It’s that complex…

Hello everyone! It’s absolutely gorgeous today in Washington, D.C.!! I love Dupont Circle on a pretty day (yes, I love the Fruit Loop). I hope this finds you well. Below is the link I promised for the story I wrote for Matt Comer’s blog at www.InterstateQ.com. The essay I wrote is part 5 of 5, but when you go to Matt’s page you will find the links for the first four installments at the bottom of the page.

Happy Memorial Day weekend!