I guess I wore myself out dancing yesterday, as I’ve had all the energy of a slug today. Not even a young slug–like, a retired one with a bad hip. That being said, I did clean up and shave my face, so I at least look like a human, even if I don’t feel like one. It’s midnight-thirty now, and I really need to knock this out in about an hour and get some sleep. I’m up early tomorrow and have a full day, then Mom’s mastectomy is Tuesday. So it’s go-go-go, then wait-wait-wait. Provided everything goes as planned with Mom, things should slow down later this week. One day at a time, sweet Jesus.

It’s okay to write a short blog, Marcus.

Tonight I went to dinner and a musical in Fayetteville with a friend who doesn’t want their face or name splattered all over the internet. This sounds more mysterious than it actually is. For dinner, we went to eat at Pesto Cafe, a quaint little Italian restaurant that has red-and-white-checkered tablecloths and everything. Y’all, our waiter had the waistline of a prepubescent teenager. The Levi’s label on the back of his pants said they were 25 inches around. I think my left thigh alone is that big. Anyway, he was a great waiter, mostly because he gave me a compliment. (It really takes very little for me to love you forever.) Here’s what happened. We’d just sat down and were ordering wine, and the waiter looked at me and said, “May I see your ID?” So I started reaching for my driver’s license, and he said, “I’m SURE you’re old enough, but you’re just so radiant.”

Radiant. (I’m radiant.) Can I start putting that on my resume?

Seriously, my friend rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t stop laughing out loud. No one has ever used that word to describe me, certainly not another man. (Not that I minded, but I’m not even sure this guy was old enough to drive.) Also, I’m pretty sure “radiant” is a 32-inch-waistline-or-above word, so maybe he just meant I had oily skin.

Regardless, he got a good tip.

The musical we saw was Cabaret, as in “Life is a cabaret, old chum. Come to the cabaret.” If you don’t know the plot, it’s a little naughty, but also delicious. It’s about a nightclub in Berlin just before World War II and showcases the lives of dancers, prostitutes, and their friends (and customers). The cast did a fantastic job, and since we sat on the second row, we got to see everything (even the spanking) up close and personal. The star of the show is the emcee, a character with obvious homosexual leanings. In the beginning of the show he says, “Leave your worries at the door. There are no worries here.” But by the end of the show, things have gone dark, and the emcee ends up in a prison camp because of his sexuality. For two hours it was “life’s a party,” then all of a sudden it was “life’s a bitch–a real bitch.” You could hear a pin drop in the theater.

Walking out of the auditorium, I thought, That wasn’t exactly the feel-good musical experience I had anticipated. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I appreciate the realness of it, since bullshit like that actually used to happen, people being killed for something they can’t change about themselves. We’ve made a lot of progress, but it still happens today. This is the planet we live on. This is how we’re capable of treating each other, pinning a pink triangle on another person and labeling them “less than human.”

Pink triangles were what the Nazis used to identify homosexuals, Mom. Like cattle branding.

Fundamentally, I don’t believe anyone is better than anyone else. Maybe you have a smaller waistline than I do and maybe I can dance better than you can, but we’re all human here. Period. There is no more-than or less-than in the human category. Regardless of sexuality, skin color, or religion, we all get tired, we all fall down. Each of us has a heart that bleeds and breaks, and each of us has a heart so full of love that it’s impossible to exhaust it. Just when you think you can’t love someone or something anymore than you currently do, you find yourself doing exactly that. Sure, we forget it plenty of times, but on the inside we’re all shining. This is what gives me hope, knowing that we are all radiant.