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So I'm on my own, the drawing is becoming less and less asked
for, I'm feeling a bit estranged from family, and doing my magical
passes for about an hour and sitting eyes shut in a dark room
a lot, fanning my head left to right in time with my breathing
as I try to recall all of my life. Sometimes I'd stand gazing
out the door and this quiet little suspicion grew: I was going
nowhere fast.
A young, long time friend visited one afternoon and I described
my life as this big supertanker on a collision course with something
beyond the horizon. It was too late, the ship was too massive
to turn, and all I could do was wait and see what happened. But
I was sure disaster was looming.
But a job fell in my lap unexpectedly. It was hand-painting motifs
on children's furniture for market samples. It led to my showing
some of my "real drawings" and I was hired full time.
But instead of drawing, I ended up making models and doing the
company catalogs. The company made cast resin products for home
and garden. About anything you can imagine, they molded and reproduced,
and they were the largest company doing it in America. The president
treated me like god, calling me Tom Terrific, The more into the
graphics I got the more involved I got. Since my school days computers
had changed everything. I had long declared I would never own
one, and was never even around one, even to play games. But I'd
go to the graphics studio to supervise the layout of ads and the
catalogs and it was obvious this was something I should know.
Photoshop was a world unto itself. I was given my nephews old
dinosaur of a computer, tried to upgrade but couldn't and for
a long time thought about whether of not I would take the plunge.
It was inevitable. I got a great system put together by a high
school kid ( I never go the simple route) and started working
at home. It devoured time. But it was fascinating and so it was
ok. By the time the second catalog was due I pretty much skipped
the graphics studio and did it all on my own. In a sequel of sorts
to Cartwright in the 70's we even set up to do our own photography.
From September 99 to January2000 it was night and day, constant.
But it was weird. An opportunity to go to Brazil presented itself
to me from my longtime friend/choreographer Budd Thompson. He
and his lover of many years had retired from show-business and
moved to the south of Sweden. There a Rolls-Royce driving friend
of theirs would be in Rio from December thru March and on hearing
my interest in the country ( from an off the cuff remark I'd made
in a letter to Budd) said "come on down!" The more grueling
the catalog got and the more tension at work, the idea of going
to Rio for Carneval 2000 was like a life preserver in the troubled
waters of my mind. So I do it, buy a ticket, take off for a month,
pretty much ignoring conventional rules of business and professional
advancement.
If you remember, I said Hawaii was the best place I'd ever been,
well Rio was even better. It's difficult to explain why, and I'm
not sure it's because of what's "out there" as opposed
to what is in my mind. Brazil seems to sum up all my longing,
my romanticism, my fascination with the taboo and unknown, my
delight in looking at beautiful boys and men. The music is the
best in the world, according to them and me.
In my usual "about to die" mode I tried to tie up loose
ends before going. I sent Budd money for a computer. I wanted
to show him my affection in some small way, and it was a delight
knowing I had delighted him. I called Denise and said come with
me and sent her a ticket. All was good with Mom and home. I left
not really caring if I came back, I wanted to go that bad. And
what a trip it was. Check out the diary pages for full flavor.
Once back at work, a seemingly a small incident mushroomed and
my job "in the real world" became just another story.
Then it was full time into the world of the Internet, and I'm
still cavorting there. First it was the chat rooms and porn sites,
where the days of magazine dominance of gay life info were over,
and where where I could make friends in Brazil even before my
arrival. Then it was the free music from all over the world on
Napster. Now it's email and chat leading up to another, even longer
trip to Brazil this next spring.
For years I thought Carlos knew best when he said to live a
clean simple life and walk lightly, and then disappear from the
face of the earth without a trace. That's why theres no pictures
of Ulf and not really that many of me. I was going to burn them
all, but then decided I'd mail Ulf back his and severely edit
my own. I was going to read each page in my diary one last time
and then ceremoneously light it with a match. I trusted Carlos
that much. Now that his place is vacant, .......
Love to all, Tom
December 11, 2000
.......'Out in the Wide World ' by Swedish artist
Carl Larson
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