Don, Adam and Dave
by Don Baird
SF Bay Times - 7/27/95
As deadline rolled closer this week, I had never felt such a lost, unfocused, dreadful feeling that there was literally nothing to write about. Whenever that thought comes to mind, I know deep down that it really is not the case at all, but nevertheless, I still go through the motions of that certain anguish. It‚s like writers‚ block, but I could write if there were just something interesting to write about. It's faux writer's block, and when this affliction nails me, I break my frozen stare at the keyboard, pick up the phone and call fellow writer/rocker/culture vulture/drug taker Adam Block and see what he makes of this temporary drift in the doldrums. More often than not, this perks me right up, because Adam is a much more devout media monitor than I am. If there's something going on that I should know about in the areas of rock music, politics, star gossip or some absurd tidbit on the news that I could joyously vivify in that perverse, maverick, sick-fuck way for readers to enjoy or at least be shocked or amused by, Adam will let me in on It.
I phoned up and quickly stated my predicament to Adam, who responded, "Well, after that self-indulgent, why-can't-everybody-in-the-gay-community-just-get-along Dave Ford cover story with that picture of a guy sucking himself off, I wouldn't sweat it. You'll think of something."
I recalled the first few paragraphs of that particular article, remembering Dave's metaphorical reference to "dump truck-sized jello molds" of nutrition for the right wing in preparation for their wars/crusades, while the gay community feeds on itself, the less nutritional option. That is, except for the less tasty ones dipped in CK, chortle chortle ha ha. The article continues, dipping the community in a whole slew of socioeconomicaly far-fetched behaviors, activities and concerns that might lead one to believe that all fags and dykes are wealthy world-traveling bourgeois dilettantes who don't know where to eat when the Zuni isn't open on Mondays.
"How about that bit at the end that Dave Ford translates in Latin to: one who does nothing, and does it poorly‚" Adam continued. "Except compulsive shopping, something all fags do, according to Dave. And what about the cutesy way of apologizing for something and then continuing to do it in the article, like his run-on sentences."
"Yeah," I interjected with a hint of indignance. "Everyone knows I'm the champ in the run-on sentence department, only mine don't require any apologies, not for showy but senseless syntax or obtuse vocabulary choices."
"What's up with Dave these days, I wonder?" Adam said in disbelief.
"I'm not sure, but last time I saw him he was wearing a tie, looking all downtown and shit," I recalled, "I wouldn't doubt he's fallen prey to the Scientologists or something."
Adam resumed with a catch-you-up media report, while I wondered to myself if printing the gist of our conversation about Dave would be a good intro. Dave's a good sport and an old friend so he wouldn't get upset over a little ribbing. Maybe I'm wrong, though, maybe it would start a big rash of infighting at the Bay Times, then what would happen? Would we become the paper that eats itself, a microcosm of our troubled gay community and its never-ending "jungle red" kiss-and-kill bitch-fight tendencies which Dave speaks of? No, we'd probably Just laugh and throw our hands up and suc?cumb to the one activity or weakness shared by our illustrious community and just go shopping together like girlfriends˜with trust funds...
Enough of that, Lord knows how counterproductive in-fighting can be, downright cannibalistic even. Adam Block's area of expertise is most definitely Rock music, so that's what he dove into, rattling off tidbits of info, new releases, recent faves. Of course the first order of business in that particular vein was Courtney Love. We love Courtney Love just for her sheer fucked-up-edness...
Adam and I were cackling over all this stuff, and then he asked me if I was going to this year's Lollapalooza. I immediately said no. He said he was going to until he found out that Sinead O‚Connor had dropped out of the tour. No, Courtney had nothing to do with this departure as rumored. Sinead dropped out because she's pregnant with her second child. This news made me even more certain of my decision to skip the show, but suddenly I remembered that my dear friend Margaret (who I attended my first and only Lollapalooza with) told me that a film she developed conceptually and also starred in was being shown in the featured film tent at the Lollapalooza and I simply couldn't miss it. It's entitled Cream Corn Wrestling, which apparently she does, and thought it up all on her own. So I guess I'll be going. For you readers who are attending this year, don't forget to bring lots of cigarettes, for they are not sold anywhere at the Shoreline, which totally sucks. Plus, you'd be surprised what a teenage boy on Ecstasy with a slight sunstroke would do for a cigarette sometimes. You'll be surprised at the great number of brilliant-looking shirtless males around you. It's practically overwhelming, but don't be too confident of this event and its New Age positivity raising the con?sciousness of the crowd to new heights of socio-cultural harmony. I got called fag a handful of times by youngsters in groups, and youngsters come a lot bigger these days than they used to.
Adam and I ended our chat on the phone with him telling me in detail about the graphic testimony given in court by a girl named Jewel who was dutifully sexed up by David Koresh of the Branch Davidians. When it was all over, he told her to take a shower. She came back to the room clean and fully clothed, the bed was made and he then read to her from the Book of Solomon. You know there are records and CDs available of David Koresh performing rock and roll, his second passion in life...