Iceblock addiction, gay identity issues, candle man memories

'I want suckies!' said boyfriend Maiyuu.

That's a cry for help if ever I heard one.

I put my gay identity problems (see below) to one side, to consider the needs of my boyfriend.

God knows what could happen if he doesn't get his suckies, I thought. I must put myself in his place to consider what his plight could be like - without, of course, 'projecting'.

Actually, I knew immediately what he meant. We are deeply in tune with each other's needs as a couple. You could say we have come out to each other.

'I will go to Carrefour to buy some. Would you like to come?' he asked.

This was Maiyuu's first invitation to me to accompany him outdoors all weekend. I had asked him half a dozen times if he wanted to go for a walk.

'No,' he replied - you can't buy suckies on the street, so no wonder.

Suckies are the coloured iceblocks you see above.

Neither of us is sure what else to call them. I am sure they come in packaging, but I have never looked at the name. We do know what to do with them, however.

Cut off one end with scissors. Place in mouth. As the flavoured iceblock melts, suck out the cordial, or whatever it is in its liquid state.

'I am too busy to go out, but I will wait for you,' I replied.

'I'll be just a tick,' said Maiyuu, as he left home.

We had no other reason to visit the Carrefour superstore other than to buy suckies, but it is the only place around here which sells them.

Half an hour alter, he was back with his beloved iceblocks. As I write, he has sucked his way through at least half a dozen of the tubular-shaped things.

They are addictive, especially in a climate as hot as ours.

-
Just when life was getting dull around here, I thought, Mr Anon has come to the rescue.

You will recall that I left an invitation a couple of days ago to Mr Anon to have another go at the coming-out debate, which started in the comments section of Saturday's post.

He left one of the first comments which set off the discussion. Here it is again:

'It is our parents' responsibility to know us and accept us. If you can't be honest with your own family about who you are, it probably means you have a number of identity issues.'

Oh God, identity issues!

There goes my psychological right leg.

'You are suppressed!' And with that he cuts my left leg from under me as well.

I have lost count of the number of wounding epithets or labels which Mr Anon has applied over the years. I must truly be one sad gay bastard.

His remarks are designed to hurt, of course, but the language is couched in psycho-babble - what exactly are identity issues, pray tell, and why should we worry if we have them?

Are they curable, like Maiyuu's addiction to iceblocks?
-

The Victoria Coffee House, Christchurch, 1985

When I was 17, an 'adult' friend liked taking me to a coffee house, stuck on the end of a busy one-way street like a barnacle on a ship's bum.

The coffee house, on the corner of Montreal and Oxford Terrace in Christchurch, New Zealand, had been there since 1968, and was a fixture to hippies, arty types, and other oddballs who liked to wile away the empty hours until dawn. It was unlit but for candles flickering away on each table.

Farang M introduced me to his friends, who, like him, were aged in his early 30s.

I thought they were impossibly sophisticated - especially when they pulled out the inevitable joint for a smoke around our moody table.

At the entrance was an enormous white candle, stuck on a platform like the Virgin Mary on a plinth.

Every night farang M took me there, a bearded man with long hair was sitting over the candle, with a fiercely dedicated look.

He held up simple domestic candles (the kind we used in blackouts as a kid) over the flame of the mother candle, to drip more wax onto its body, to make it bigger still.

This was his job. Rarely a night went by when I did not see him sitting next to the mother candle, tending to its needs. The candle had been growing there, on its noble perch inside the front door, for years.

He did not start conversations with anyone, just melt candles. The bearded one was well known in that part of town as the Candle Guy, and had been there as long as anyone could remember.

Occasionally a newcomer would ask what he was doing, and he'd give them a talk about his life's work.

Others knew better than to keep him back from such important business. Why interfere? He is busy dripping, so leave the guy alone.

At the coffee shop, for the regulars at least, life carried on - the owner served tables, customers smoked joints and ordered one coffee after another.

Other favourites from the smudged, hand-scrawled menu were toasted cheese sandwiches, and simple ice-cream deserts, served in cheap silver-metal bowls.

They also sold liqueur, but only in the late hours, as the place was unlicensed.

Eventually the coffee shop was forced to close as it made way for city expansion. Did the candle man have identity issues? He was odd, it has to be said, and I have no idea how he ended up.

Perhaps he had created another statuesque candle at home, and spent his idle hours building that one up, before his main public performance at the coffee shop at night.

At least there he had an audience. For who can be bothered with such a painstaking task if he has to work alone?

We are all a little strange. Mr Anon, does that mean we deserve to be condemned?

Anyway, before I forget it entirely, here is Anon's latest bitchy comment. I have removed one paragraph, which is no longer relevant to this blog. As for the rest, you are welcome to enjoy it as it was sent.

By the way: To all readers celebrating Buddhist Lent, Have a happy waxy one!

'It seems to me that in this pattern with your parents you follow suit in the same way as with your other relationships. You are happy to keep things on an unreal basis that is unthreatening to you, in one apparent way, because they are controllable.

'Clearly your public and very emotional- rather than rational - reaction to the issue of being out displays some insecurity about your identity and the place you really need to occupy in terms of your relationships in all 3 areas: home, work, and extended family.

'I suspect if you can avoid coming out, it relates to you psychologically in the sense of hiding- from yourself, from any real boyfriend, from your family. Thus my belief you have identity issues in general.'