DenysH.com >> Fandom
Perhaps you've seen him standing in some otherwise forgettable hotel lobby, dressed with that refined taste in outrageous fashion one might promptly label sui generis were "evocative of je ne sais quoi" not an equally inviting pretension, seen him standing there ogling the young fen as they wander by in their varieties of drag, and, with an offended shake of his head, declaiming so loudly that it is difficult for the casual bystander to even pretend not to hear, "Is there no balm in Gilead?" Perhaps, in the sweaty confines of a literate room party, you've been momentarily stunned by a blast of his brazen laughter--a sound that in other scenarios has been known to knock unwary cats and bothersome children unconscious. Perhaps you've seen him comfortably, if a bit smugly, ensconced in a crowd of the cream of the SMOFs, pronouncing the names of the Elect, only to notice him mere moments later giggling with a gaggle of the most inane, if markedly sexy, boy neos. Perhaps you've seen him sprawled nearly comatose on a hallway floor after one sip of weak beer and wondered, "Who is this fantastic, fascinating creature?"
I'm here to tell you: he's Denys Howard, Commie Faggot from Hell, Toastmaster of the Toastslaves at this Corflu.
It's a little surprising to me how rich and varied my friendship with Denys has been. Yet, when I think about it, I'm surprised I'm surprised. People don't become as important to me as Denys is if my relationship with them isn't rich and varied. So why the surprise?
I'd say it's an effect of the narrow image of him that I conjure so easily in my mind's eye. In its crudest form (and I guess I should remind myself that Denys doesn't necessarily mind having crude forms applied to him), the image might be described as a portrait with the caption: "Denys Howard, My Political Friend." And there's no doubt that politics are an important part of our friendship. Denys talks about the political dimensions of life more than anyone else I know. He's had an enormous influence on the growth and evolution of my political thinking. As I've gotten more interested in Marxism and the politics of liberation, I find that Denys is the friend with whom I share the most assumptions and feelings about many issues and therefore is the friend I turn to when I need support or a sounding board or suggestions. He's the friend with whom I go to demonstrations and benefits and caucuses and write letters to congresspeople and editors. So, he's my Political Friend. And it was surprising when I sat down a couple months ago to make a list under the heading "What Denys Means To Me" and politics was the fourth thing I wrote down. It was surprising until I realized that my working model of Denys (oo, these metaphors!) was insufficient to the ineluctable plentitude of the man.
What are the first three things on my list? Well, the third item is Brian Eno, which I think is a perfect illustration of how Denys defies the categories my analytical little mind imposes on him. In my scheme of things, Denys is not someone who takes music very seriously. I mean, he has a hard enough time remembering the names of songs and bands, let alone who produced such and such a track, what year it was recorded in, who played bass on it, and what other bands that bassist has played with. Therefore, in my scheme of things, Denys is not someone I feel has much to tell me about music.
Amongst many of the friends who I feel do take music seriously, Brian Eno is someone we take very seriously indeed. He is a master of sound, a guiding light, a wizard, a muse, a koan. He inspires us to consider such things as the musical uses of tape hiss. We attempt to proselytize those who have not heard his music, and we use him as a standard by which to judge whether someone takes music seriously or not. (Well, at least Victor does.) Yet it was Denys who recommended I pick up a copy of an album called Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) by someone named Eno and who thereby initiated me and, through me, several of my friends into the mysteries. I take this as a delightful reminder not only that Denys has introduced me to some of my favorite things in the world but also that he has a wide-ranging curiosity about and experience of life, which gives him a lot to offer those who aren't too caught up in schemes and categories.
The second item on my list is none other than Samuel R. Delany. One of the first times I met Denys, back in 1979, he mentioned Delany to me, and I told him I had read Babel-17 and hadn't been very impressed. He recommended that I try another of his books, so I read The Einstein Intersection and then everything else by Delany I could get my hands on. Delany's books are another of my favorite things in the world, and as I think about Denys' part in my experience of them, I am reminded of a couple of Delany-inspired moments in our friendship.
I remember sitting on a windowsill with Denys at a room party (was it an Orycon? Norwescon?), discussing Gil Gaier's idea of having a Dhalgren party where everybody would come as their favorite character in the book. "You could come as Bunny!" I said. Denys reared back and said, "No!" very emphatically, apparently perturbed at what I presumed. I was confused. Bunny seemed like the obvious choice for someone as effeminate and campy as I then perceived Denys to be. "Who would you come as?" I asked. "Kid!" said Denys. I was amazed. I identified with Kid. Kid was serious, introspective, and intellectual, like me. How could a, well, silly queen identify with a character in whom I saw so much of myself? In this way do we begin to learn about the limitations of our perceptual and conceptual categories. In this way do we begin to learn about our homophobia.
I also remember standing in a hallway with Denys at a party at a Raincon where somebody who had read Dhalgren and hadn't liked it asked us what we liked about the book. I volunteered my appreciation of the complex model of consciousness it presents. Denys very quietly said he liked it for exploring sexuality in ways that he found very exciting and more relevant to his personal experience of sex than most anything else he'd read. I remember feeling that my comment had been very pretentious and abstract, while Denys' had been, typically, based more on honest, intimate, difficult feelings. In retrospect, I can say, what the hell, I do enjoy the complex model of consciousness presented in Dhalgren. But I think the sex is pretty exciting too, and Denys' willingness and ability to talk unabashedly about "personal" subjects such as sexuality has been a great help to me in becoming aware of and more comfortable with my own most intimate feelings.
Which brings me to the first item on my list: my leather jacket. One thing I've learned in the process of trying to write about this final item--of explaining the part it plays in what makes Denys important to me--is that my leather jacket embodies for me my sexuality and/or my feelings about my sexuality. Discussion of my jacket becomes discussion of my sexual feelings, which brings up the delight, confusion, and fear with which I react to those feelings. That's where Denys comes in.
About a year after I moved to Seattle and into the house I share with Denys, I began to wonder how I would look in leather. I said something about it to Denys, and he suggested I try his jacket on. So one night when I was home alone, I took it off its hook and slipped it on. Like I say, that jacket is for me my sexual feelings made flesh, and putting it on that first time was very much like bringing my sexual feelings into the open. I felt very excited and very disturbed. And I felt uncomfortable both with how thrilled I was by how I looked, how much I got off on it, and also with how exposed and insecure I felt. I did not feel ready to open up what I had learned were taboo and shameful feelings.
When Denys got home from work that night, I told him what I'd done and how it had hit me. He asked me to try the jacket on again for him. In the grips of excited confusion, I did so. He grinned, shook his head appreciatively, told me I looked hot, and offered to sell the jacket to me. So I was faced with the decision of whether I wanted, as my gut was telling me I did, to take the opportunity to liberate a part of myself I felt pretty freaked out about or whether I'd rather feel safe and keep it in the closet. Despite my inability to articulate my dilemma, Denys seemed to be aware of what I was struggling with, and he encouraged me to go for it. It wasn't just a matter of saying, "Aw, go on, do it." He gave me a lot of emotional support. He reassured me when I expressed doubt and insecurity, fed my need for admiration with periodic exclamations about how sexy he thought I looked in the jacket, and shared his own feelings about how fun and good it could be to give expression to sexuality.
I bought the jacket, and it's something that makes me very happy. I'm glad I took what at the time felt like a substantial emotional risk, and I think it's here that I find the key to what Denys means to me. He has always been sympathetic to my fears, insecurity, and general hypersensitivity, and he has always given affirmation to the hopes and dreams I struggle to nurture in my life. He has done more than I can say to help me feel more comfortable with who I am and what I can do. He has encouraged me to explore life, to follow my desires, to free myself to grow and to enjoy. What can I say? That's a big part of the reason I love and respect Denys as much as I do.
I tell you all this in an effort to give you an impression of the kind of friend Denys is. As the "wizard" says to the Tin Man in MGM's The Wizard of Oz, "The heart is judged not by how much you love but by how much you are loved by others." So to Denys I dedicate a line from Sly Stone: "I want to thank you for letting me be myself again."
Doot doot doot.
"But what about comedy?" you ask. "What about wit? Can the man entertain us? And most importantly, what is he really like? All this talk about affirmation, support, and love is good as far as it goes, but what's he like in the morning before that fateful first double latte?"
I'm sorry to say that I don't know. I've never had my first cup in time to see.
The man is a legend. He's a myth, he's a ruse, he's a multiple static intersegmental disrelationship. He's the truth masquerading as a lie. He's a relic, a byproduct, a backformation of the '60s. He's the One who turned down a chance to go to Woodstock. He was THERE!
He inherited our past so we could confuse our futures. He plans to be God and doesn't understand the necessity of Satan. We will teach him.
Fine! Be that way! Mea Culpa! He will take all our mistakes upon himself but will not give a figleaf for our sins.
He will deliver unto us the book of women and men. He will make his marx and put out fresh lenin. He says, "'Pun' spelled backwards is 'nup,' and a nup is a nup."
Forget it. Don't even try to understand.
Shantih shantih sis boom bah.
SOURCE: This article was published in the Corflu 5 Program Book, which was produced by Jerry Kaufman on 24 April 1988. I was, quelle surprise, the Toastmaster of the post-banquet speeches. According to the program, at approximately 1:00 "Denys Howard leads us in toasts, comments on life, introduces Ted White to elect fwa and fwuk presidents, Geri Sullivan to talk about Minneapolis, Gary Farber to be honored, and others. We'll follow this with the auction to benefit TAFF, DUFF, Corflu, and whatever else crops up." And so we did. Each and every one of us. © 1988, 2001 by Randy Byers.