Sometimes You Just Have to Spend a Sunny Saturday Afternoon Fan-Boying About All of the Gay Geniuses

Ross is in town from D.C. this weekend and earlier today while he and B and I were standing in line outside of Cliff's Variety waiting to be let into the Castro Theatre for a screening of Tab Hunter Confidential, a film selected to be part of this year's Frameline San Francisco International LGBT Film Festival, Armistead Maupin, one of my literary heroes and a true San Francisco icon and a human person who has been mentioned on this web log a time or three (see here, here and here) stopped by to chat with B about something and so B introduced me to him and I shook his hand when really I wanted to give him a hug and tell him how much I love his work and then steal all of his secrets but instead I mostly just tried not to stare too hard.

And then we watched the film, which was about the life of Tab Hunter, a Hollywood heartthrob in the 1950s who was in the closet while starring opposite legendary starlets like Debbie Reynolds and Natalie Wood and Sophia Loren, and there was a question and answer session afterward and Tab Hunter showed up and he was happy and positive and well-spoken and still pretty darn handsome at eighty-three years old and the whole thing felt like a happening that people are gonna speak about with reverence many years from now and it was kinda dope to be there for it.

And then we walked to Twin Peaks Tavern and ordered margaritas with salt on the rim and just happened to sit next to Rob Epstein, the director of The Times of Harvey Milk and The Celluloid Closet and Howl, who is also somewhat of a San Francisco icon and who has won two Academy Awards for his work, and B introduced us and I told him how eye-opening The Celluloid Closet was for me and afterwards I succumbed to the fact that sometimes you just have to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon fan-boying about all of the gay geniuses walking among you.

After all of the fan-boying was over and the margaritas were gone B, Ross and I walked home and shared an eleven-year-old bottle of Veuve while eating lobster and scallops and shrimp before capping the night at Midnight Sun and Toad Hall.

And in this moment, as I get ready for bed, a smile still plastered across my face, I can't help but ask myself, for the second time in as many weeks, what is my life?