BijouBlog

Hi Folks! Will here with an "Upbeat" look at a force that has helped propel me throughout my life - Music. Some of you might recognize this title as one of Patti LaBelle's biggest hits from a few decades ago. With this title, I recognize and celebrate her talents along with my own lifelong love of music. 

Some of my earliest recollections of music were sitting on my mother's lap and learning to harmonize with her singing. I would have to guess that was around age four or so. My mother had a great voice and used to sing at most family gatherings back in the 50s. Like I said, my musical participation began with hearing a harmony part in what she sang and "chiming in" to the best of my young ability. And, according to the applause we used to get, I guess we did a pretty good job.

As far as playing instruments, it all started one Christmas morning with a toy clarinet by the Eminee company. I think my parents initially regretted buying this for me, thinking I would be blaring it all around the house making a racket. But, much to everyone's surprise, by the end of that day I had figured out how to play "When the Saints Go Marching In" and a couple of other standards. Before I knew it, clarinet lessons were booked for yours truly. A musical "door" had opened that continues to usher in the wonder and joy of playing music.

It should be mentioned that the house we moved into in the mid-50s came with an upright grand piano in the basement. It was a huge and wonderful instrument. My father used to love to dabble with it and even took some lessons. Monkey see, monkey do. I started to have regular sessions with that keyboard and found it much easier to navigate than the holes and levers of the real clarinet that replaced my Christmas toy. Once again, with my picking out melodies on that piano by ear, music lessons soon followed.

I was a bad student, in that I easily drifted from my lessons to messing around with tunes by ear. My parents were not pleased by my straying from the printed page. So, after a year or so, my lessons were suspended. That didn't stop me from banging away and discovering more about music... especially chords. (It seemed like the harmonizing I did with my mother was showing up again.) 

It was about 1963 or 1964 when a musical arrival completely changed my life. My mother and father used to like to go out "clubbing" with their friends from our new Jersey Shore home location. In their travels one Saturday night, they dropped by the Hammond Organ store in Asbury Park (about ten miles south of our new home).

It was late one Sunday morning when a rather large delivery van pulled up in front of our house. Sprawled on the side of it was (you guessed it) Hammond Organ of Asbury Park. Instantly, I knew what was going on. They bought an organ: a beautiful Hammond A-102, a full-sized console organ in French Provincial cherrywood finish! I guess the style and finish were to appease my mother, as everything in our new house was of that ilk.

The delivery men eased in the three large pieces - the main console, the pedal clavier and the handsome matching French Provincial bench. I was not only awestruck, but I couldn't wait to get my hands (and feet) on this beautiful instrument. It fit beautifully into a corner of our rather large living room opposing a lovely Mason & Hamlin baby grand. My father and mother finally came down from their slumber to see the new musical entry. After being shown how to turn it on, I was well on my way to picking out some of my piano favorites... even using the pedals... as these were obviously just another keyboard - just for your feet!

My mother and father were once again spellbound watching me dive into the musical unknown without missing a beat. I was sorry to say that upon the organ's arrival, I never looked back at the piano again seriously. These instruments are really two separate universes, and I had chosen mine.

I was about twelve or thirteen when the organ came into my life. It rocked my world. A dozen or so complimentary lessons came with the organ's purchase. I took to this instrument like a duck takes to water. My musical world was further broadened by the available LPs that were sold at the organ store. I quickly started an organ record collection... mostly theater organ with a few classical organ records, too. I learned to play a lot of songs by listening to these albums. My musical "ear" was on the move!

Once again, music lessons followed. Although I was grateful for these lessons and the enhanced ability to read music that came with them, I mostly liked to play by ear and read what I needed. Unfortunately, the same pattern followed. I was not the best student in terms of practicing my lessons. As a result, my rather prestigious organ teacher gave me the boot. 

An unfortunate financial time befell my father and our family. One day, that French Provincial beauty disappeared from our living room. Soon, we moved out of that house altogether. We relocated to the small shore town of Spring Lake about fifteen miles south of our prior West Deal location. I was in high school by this time, and was totally pissed off about moving and leaving my school and friends that I loved. There was one small caveat - my father did get another, albeit smaller, Hammond L-101 spinet. With our family's financial climate, even that spinet only lasted for a couple of years. Alas, we were totally instrument-free in our household!

In all my teen years that I had been listening to theater organ records, I had promised myself that, by hook or by crook, I was going to have either an Allen or Conn electronic theater organ. They really sounded a lot more like the theater organs that I heard on my records. But, it wasn't until my early thirties (and with the help of my new "porn income") that I finally purchased the first of three Conn 651 three manual theater organs. I was in heaven!

One of three Conn 651s

It took all my will and determination to get one of these behemoths into my tiny one bedroom apartment on 10th St. in San Francisco. Not only did the apartment door have to come off its hinges, but the frame had to be dismantled, too. Then, with some furniture blankets and a dolly, I turned the organ on its side and rotated it into my little abode! I bought this beauty from a priest in the East Bay with the understanding that if I ever sold it, he could buy it back. And, that's the way it wound up almost ten years later - back in his hands. This was shortly before I moved back to the East Coast in 1991.

Friends gathered in the San Francisco apartment with looming Conn 651 organ in profile.

I was shell shocked after my move back to NJ. Arriving in the "Garden State" after fourteen years of "Sodom and Gomorrah" in San Francisco was like hitting a brick wall!

Thank God for the speed and arrival of my new job on the East Coast... selling organs! It is one of two fulltime jobs in my life that fit like a glove!

The brother of my sister's fiancé was working at a piano and organ store. And, they were looking for sales people. I don't quite remember the interview. But, what I do remember was that I was hired on the spot. I did quite well with that company and managed, sold and taught elementary organ lessons for them until my move in 1994 to South Beach.

At a client's house, invited to dinner and to play the Lowery console that I sold them.

Let's fast forward to my move to the Southwest with my spouse from our NYC apartment in 1999. As soon as I arrived, I started scouting out music stores where I might attain gainful employment. There were only a couple of organ stores in a sixty mile radius from where we lived, and no one was hiring. But, I did manage to find a nice little Lowrey spinet organ. Back at the keyboard(s) and having laid some groundwork, another Conn 651 three manual console organ became available from the same dealer, and I snatched it up. That Conn stayed with me for about three years until I made the (permanent) switch to Allen Organs.

My first Allen was a two manual model, and was quickly followed by two three manual models. Once you have three manuals, it's hard to go back to two! All of these models were purchased through an eBay seller who was a franchised dealer in upstate NY. My last and grandest Allen three manual was purchased in 2015 and is still with me.

My current Allen three manual organ.

So, here I am some sixty years later with my dream come true. I have my beautiful (and third) Allen three manual theater organ. Now retired, I have the time to play to my heart's content. No, I am not a concert organist. But, I play for my friends and my own pleasure. I cherish the moments when this huge, majestic instrument can either bring the house down or sing like an angel. I am grateful to have travelled this musical journey!

An after work organ performance video! (Click to play.)

 

Bio of Will Seagers:

Will Seagers (also credited as Matt Harper), within his multifaceted careers and participation in numerous gay communities across the country in the '70s and '80s and beyond, worked as a print model, film performer, and DJ, just to name a few. He made iconic appearances in releases from Falcon, Hand in Hand, Joe Gage, Target (Bullet), J. Brian, Steve Scott, and more, including in lead roles in major classics like Gage's L.A. Tool & Die (1979) and Scott's Wanted (1980). He brought strong screen presence and exceptional acting to his roles and was scene partners with many fellow legends of classic porn.

Will Seagers, present day

You can read Will Seagers' previous blogs for Bijou here:

Welcome Matt/Will | What's For Dessert? | On and Off the Set of L.A. Tool & Die | Wanted, Weekend Lockup and Weekends in Hermosa Beach | Honeymoon in the Palms | Birds of a Feather | The Stereo Maven of Castro Street | The Pass Around Boy | The Ecstasy and the Agony | Fitness and Fantasy | Chasing the Boys and Chasing the Sun | Becoming Invisible | The Reverse Story of Dorian Gray | Pin Money | One Organ Leads to Another! | The Wheels of Steel | Feast and Famine | An Alphabet Soup of Powders and Pills | Merry Christmas (and Getting Re-Organized) | Now and Then | DEEP INSIDE THE CASTRO: The Badlands | DEEP INSIDE THE CASTRO: Moby Dick Bar | DEEP INSIDE THE CASTRO: "Just Another Stroll Down the Castro!" | Diving Into SoMa/Folsom: Hamburger Mary's | Diving Into SoMa/Folsom: Long Live the Stud! | Diving Into SoMa/Folsom: Club Life..."Hit me with your Rhythm Stick!” | A "Split Ticket": SoMa/Folsom and The Haight! | Staying Vanilla in a Flavorful Culture | A Little Secret | Recollections of the 1977 S.F. Gay Pride Parade | Life's a Beach | Flora & Fauna | Once Is Just Not Enough! | A Love of Cultures – A Knack for Languages! | For the Birds | It's About Time! | The Perfect Storm | Hello Chicago/Adieu Fire Island Pines! | Sex in the Woods! | My Life at the Gym | The Last Picture Show | Cumming Attractions! | The Peter Pan Syndrome | Valentine's Day Reflections | The “Idus Martias” and a Peacock! | Taxing I.M.H.O. | Nope...This Sure Ain't Kansas! | The French Connection | Water Baby | Pride: You Wear It Well! | Life Goes On... | The Dance Floor and the Booth, Part 1 | The Dance Floor and the Booth, Part 2 | The Dance Floor and the Booth, Part 3 | A Christmas Haiku | It's My Party & I'll BLOG If I Want To! | "Werk!" | It's My Party & I'll BLOG If I Want To! | Heart Throbs from the Past! | Traveling the Arc

 By Will Seagers

Hello folks. Will here. (Or at least I think so!) 

Opening remarks... a little bit different this time. I'll be speaking about a topic that could be considered taboo in gay society as well as society in general... disappearing from the scene as we age. I heard about this many years ago, that as gay men age they start to become invisible. They lose that currency called sexuality. At that youthful point in my life, I didn't dwell on it, as I was in my heyday at the top of the rainbow and I believed life would go on forever with all of its magical charms.

The charms I am speaking about deal with youth and being relevant just because you are attractive. Unfortunately, that relevance is based on the skin deep illusion of beauty - the ability to turn heads and make people's pulses quicken with just your looks. I used the arc of a rainbow as a metaphor to illustrate how this phenomenon worked in my life.

"In the beginning" of life we start our rainbow. Despite all of the attention and love a child gets from their parents (depending on the luck of your birth), youth and adolescence can still be a painful "ugly duckling" period that seemingly lasts forever.

Unfortunately, the people who you find attractive don't even know you exist. This leaves you feeling like you're not even there. (At least, that was the case for me.) Not knowing any better, I took it for granted that this was my caste in life. This is particularly awkward in high school years when all sorts of hormones are raging. It leaves you rife for developing a complex!

But, when I least expected it, things started to change for me. I was around 19 or 20 when I felt both guys and girls gazing at me. It rocked my world. It was awkward not knowing what to do with this new attention. But, I explored!

From a very early age, I knew I was drawn to guys. I would have to laugh about how I coerced my neighborhood "buddies" into various states of undress just so I could feel that new and wonderful experience called "being turned on." Much to my pleasure, all that changed with my emerging new looks. I was being sought after. Talk about rocking my world. It seemed my ugly duckling years of this metaphoric rainbow were over. I was rising to its midpoint. 

Yep, that's when all of this porn business started to happen for me. Literally, plucked off the street by the likes of Man's Image, Target and Falcon Studios, I had to routinely pinch myself to make sure this wasn't a dream! Early on in this phase of my life, I realized that I had a gift. And, I had to take care of that gift for as long as possible. This was my new currency.

I always had great respect for older men. I wanted to learn the knowledge and history that they had acquired. But, I realized that I wasn't physically attracted to them. That was awkward and sometimes painful. These men, being older than me, understood their plight of invisibility. In the straight forward world of sex, they had no currency. I was never prone to giving away charity fucks. Only attractive men around my own age made any sense to me. Nonetheless, I began to understand this idea of becoming invisible.

Learning this in my thirties, I committed to keeping as much of my youth and looks as possible. I did well with my regimens for the next few decades... slaving away at the gym and lavishing myself with unguents of all kinds to ward off the inevitability of aging.

Up until my mid 40s, I was carrying on like I was two decades younger. I had moved to South Beach in 1994 and had the time of my life... living most of my time in and out of my little black Speedo! I literally had to leave that paradise to save my life and what was left of my mind. After all, I was 45 years old - NOT 25!

Then, it was my turn. It didn't happen overnight. And, it took its sweet time. I started realizing in my mid-50s - the ogling stares which once bothered me were coming less and less frequently. Like it or not, getting ready for invisibility was here. This was quite a shock for a one time "pinup boy!" Had I lost my “currency?” 

Now, at age 75 and looking back from the other end of the rainbow, I realize that I too have moved into the realm of invisibility. But, armed with the knowledge of what was coming, I prepared myself with a mindset of staying young at heart and not holding onto any delusions of youth. I have learned the huge lesson of gratitude... that is, to be thankful for a very special past. It has been one helluva trip across this wonderful rainbow! 

 

 

Bio of Will Seagers:

Will Seagers (also credited as Matt Harper), within his multifaceted careers and participation in numerous gay communities across the country in the '70s and '80s and beyond, worked as a print model, film performer, and DJ, just to name a few. He made iconic appearances in releases from Falcon, Hand in Hand, Joe Gage, Target (Bullet), J. Brian, Steve Scott, and more, including in lead roles in major classics like Gage's L.A. Tool & Die (1979) and Scott's Wanted (1980). He brought strong screen presence and exceptional acting to his roles and was scene partners with many fellow legends of classic porn.

Will Seagers, present day

You can read Will Seagers' previous blogs for Bijou here:

Welcome Matt/Will | What's For Dessert? | On and Off the Set of L.A. Tool & Die | Wanted, Weekend Lockup and Weekends in Hermosa Beach | Honeymoon in the Palms | Birds of a Feather | The Stereo Maven of Castro Street | The Pass Around Boy | The Ecstasy and the Agony | Fitness and Fantasy | Chasing the Boys and Chasing the Sun | Becoming Invisible | The Reverse Story of Dorian Gray | Pin Money | One Organ Leads to Another! | The Wheels of Steel | Feast and Famine | An Alphabet Soup of Powders and Pills | Merry Christmas (and Getting Re-Organized) | Now and Then | DEEP INSIDE THE CASTRO: The Badlands | DEEP INSIDE THE CASTRO: Moby Dick Bar | DEEP INSIDE THE CASTRO: "Just Another Stroll Down the Castro!" | Diving Into SoMa/Folsom: Hamburger Mary's | Diving Into SoMa/Folsom: Long Live the Stud! | Diving Into SoMa/Folsom: Club Life..."Hit me with your Rhythm Stick!” | A "Split Ticket": SoMa/Folsom and The Haight! | Staying Vanilla in a Flavorful Culture | A Little Secret | Recollections of the 1977 S.F. Gay Pride Parade | Life's a Beach | Flora & Fauna | Once Is Just Not Enough! | A Love of Cultures – A Knack for Languages! | For the Birds | It's About Time! | The Perfect Storm | Hello Chicago/Adieu Fire Island Pines! | Sex in the Woods! | My Life at the Gym | The Last Picture Show | Cumming Attractions! | The Peter Pan Syndrome | Valentine's Day Reflections | The “Idus Martias” and a Peacock! | Taxing I.M.H.O. | Nope...This Sure Ain't Kansas! | The French Connection | Water Baby | Pride: You Wear It Well! | Life Goes On... | The Dance Floor and the Booth, Part 1 | The Dance Floor and the Booth, Part 2 | The Dance Floor and the Booth, Part 3 | A Christmas Haiku | It's My Party & I'll BLOG If I Want To! | "Werk!" | It's My Party & I'll BLOG If I Want To! | Heart Throbs from the Past!

By Josh Eliot

In 1993, I was videographer on the Catalina Video movie The Bite for director Chi Chi LaRue. It featured a great cast headlined by Jon Vincent, and featured Derrick Corbin, Dillon Reid, Londun, Max Holden and Rob Cryston. We shot it at the same time as a movie I directed called Sex Between The Lines in a Hollywood Hills house formerly owned by Fatty Arbuckle, but at that time occupied by squatters. Say what? Ask Scott Masters! He had some really funky connections! I do remember regretting that I had not come up with the vampire movie idea; it was right up my alley, as I was born and raised in one of the most haunted states in the union. But I was just glad to be shooting a horror-themed movie, and Chi Chi did a great job with The Bite and The Bite 2! I never went the vampire route in any of my movies, but I probably should have If I had, I would have drawn upon two of the most notorious cases below.

A farmer named George Brown lost his wife, Mary, and daughter, Mary Olive, after both became sickly and died one after the other. In 1892, another daughter, Mercy, died at the age of 19. Two months later, George Brown’s teenage son, Edwin, became sick and frail. The village doctor told George that it was “consumption” that was taking his son, but occupants in the town of Exeter had another explanation. The undead.

Between 1790 and 1899, it was not uncommon in New England, particularly Rhode Island, for family members to demand that the bodies of their deceased family members be exhumed. The reason being that they suspected the dead of being “undead” and afflicting the living. Sometimes going as far as to burn the hearts, lungs and livers and mixing the ashes into a solution to administer to the afflicted as a treatment.

In March of 1892, villagers, a local doctor and a newspaper reporter, along with George Brown, entered the Chestnut Hill Cemetery, under the wild idea that one of the deceased members of George’s family was leaving the grave at night to suck the life out of his son, and only by killing the undead could Edwin be saved. The bodies of George’s wife and daughter Mary gave no clues, but when Mercy Brown’s body was exhumed, it appeared oddly well preserved, appearing like her hair and nails had also continued to grow. When they prodded the body with the shovel, they found it filled with fresh blood. They continued on and removed her heart and burned it on a nearby rock. All documented. The ashes were added to Edwin’s medicine, but he died a short time later. Rhode Island’s South County between 1870 and 1900 was known as the “Vampire Capital of America.” Rumors, accusations and panic set in. Bram Stoker, who wrote Dracula in 1897, kept newspaper accounts of “vampire” Mercy Brown in his files that were discovered after his death. For the less superstitious, the well-preserved condition of Mercy’s body could be due to the fact that she was buried in the ground during the two coldest months of the year. Mercy’s grave is one of the most visited to this day and is reinforced with a metal band connected to a post to protect it from being stolen. The Mercy Brown case is one of the best documented cases of the exhumation of a corpse in order to perform rituals to banish an undead manifestation.

Vampire's Grave is located in a rural 19th century cemetery by an old wooden church in West Greenwich Rhode Island, not all that far from the real Conjuring house at 1677 Round Top Road in Burrillville, RI.

 

Starting back in the 1960s, stories related to an occupant of the graveyard spread like wildfire around the state. A teacher at Coventry High School told the students the story of Mercy Brown, a young woman whose body was exhumed and heart removed because family members were convinced she came back from the dead. Bram Stoker’s Dracula was based in part on Mercy Brown, and she is currently buried in a graveyard in Rhode Island. The students, mixing up their details, tracked down the wrong cemetery and headstone belonging to Nellie Vaughn. Nellie Vaughn died in 1889 at the age of 19 from pneumonia. When the students came upon her headstone which read in epitaph, “I am waiting and watching for you,” the legend of Nellie Vaughn being a vampire was born. Still the talk of high school in the 1970s, my friends and I along with probably every other student in the state at some point went to Vampire's Grave after smoking a ton of weed. Of course we were 100% sure that she was in fact a living dead vampire. The night we were there was scarier than hell; to reach it you drive for miles through a thick forest to a very desolate area. It is at a crossroads where you come upon the Plain Meeting House Cemetery. It took us forever to find her headstone, and yes, no grass was growing over her grave like the story said. Although it was a very creepy experience, no sightings of strange phenomena occurred that night.

Today, that headstone has been removed because there was too much vandalism of her grave site over the years. Nellie Vaughn has no marker and is in an unmarked grave. However, people have reported seeing a woman in Victorian clothing in the cemetery before vanishing into the woods, and also hearing a young woman’s voice near the grave site saying, “I am perfectly pleasant.” Almost as if she is trying to clear her name. Trying to tell the visitors that she was not an evil, frightening vampire, but only a very pleasant, proper young lady. The worst thing for us that night was driving home from the grave, still very stoned, going down that very winding wooded road in the middle of nowhere. We turned a corner that opened up to a big field on the right side of the road. There was a huge barn fire with about twenty to thirty people in white robes standing around it in a circle. Very scary, “devil worshippy” and demonic! We all screamed when we saw them and hit the gas to get out of there, constantly looking in the rear-view mirror to make sure no one was coming after us.

I promised that when I wrote this final “Halloween” themed blog, I would include a little bit of sizzle in keeping with the fact that this is after all for the BijouWorld website. So, after our harrowing adventure to Vampire's Grave, we dropped off the girls (our high school “girlfriends” at the time) and met up with one of their brothers named Michael and his “friend” Donald. There was a house in the neighborhood that was vacant and under construction. David and I had been “working” these two for what seemed like forever, getting a little flirt here and there, always followed by a big fat “nothing.” We met up with the boys, smoked some more weed; then, after months and months of build up, I did Donald, while my friend David did Michael.

Bio of Josh Eliot:

At the age of 25 in 1987, Josh Eliot was hired by Catalina Video by John Travis (Brentwood Video) and Scott Masters (Nova Video). Travis trained Eliot on his style of videography and mentored him on the art of directing. Josh directed his first movie, Runaways, in 1987. By 2009 when Josh parted ways with Catalina Video, he'd produced and directed hundreds of features and won numerous awards for Best Screenplay, Videography, Editing, and Directing. He was entered into the GayVN Hall of fame in 2002.

The early 1970s. An affluent suburban landscape with plenty of space between spacious homes that today would be characterized as vintage. The high school that serves part of this district is a 1960s building with only two floors, bright brick on the outside, gleaming white tiles in the hallway, and wide windows, quite progressive compared to the multistory, dark brick, and overall prison-like structures that were the norm in previous decades.

Yet across the road a ragged piece of what might originally been a forest preserve served as a hangout to the cliques in that high school called “freaks” or “loads.” (I was never sure about the difference between the two in my marginalized social status.) They wore flannel shirts, faded Levis, and big boots (the girls too). They sported long hair (and I remember so many blonds). They really made a point of being distinct from the Protestant WASP jocks and cheerleaders that pretty much ran the school and who probably ended up in that day’s one percent.

And they smoked in that area, which everyone called The Hole. Now I’m not sure if any other type of activity was going on (given that name), because I was afraid to check it out, but it was common knowledge that smoking was going on, and not just cigarettes. Yes, they smoked what many at that time called grass. Diane, a girl on my French class who identified as a load, confirmed that information. Diane was a load (and I got the feeling she may have dealt the substance in hindsight).

Flash forward to college. I was a virgin in the world of illicit substances, until Denise and Punky and some other girls introduced me to the joys of smoking pot (we called it that name by that time). Denise always seemed to have it, because she got it from some big black guy named T.J. Punky too, because she was a punk gal who knew artsy guys on the North Side of Chicago. Denise and I smoked something called “Sense A Million,” which was supposed to be quite potent. I remember vaguely wandering through tunnels that connected the buildings on the campus and making claims that the overhead lights were beautiful and brilliant.

Fast forward to my young adulthood, gayling in the city both before and after coming out, and once again pot seemed to be central to my social activities. The lady who cut my hair used to deal (I had to call and ask for shampoo), and one year she gave me a leafy pot “bud” for Xmas. Another friend used to get it from some unknown dealer in the artsy neighborhood, and often weekend consisted of our own private “pot parties” at my place. We made pizza from scratch while high during the munchies phase (while the pizza was baking, we ate the standard Doritos and donuts).
 

One time this friend and I went a jack off party completely stoned. On the way to the party, we started putting the words “lava lamp” or “planet of the apes” into various movie titles. Think: Our Lady of Planet of the Apes, On A Clear Day You Can See Planet of the Apes, or my favorite, Hello, Lava Lamp. When I came up with that one, I collapsed onto someone’s grassy front lawn, laughing so hard I could not breathe. Needless to say, my wiener did not function very well at the jack off party, but I did end up that night taking home a hot black guy who dressed like a cowboy (who was also stoned or drunk and as a result, a limp dick).
 

In my more mature years, financial exigencies have prevented me from enjoying the vicissitudes of this marvelous substance.

Based on the above, I associate pot/weed/grass with a time when social activities didn’t depend on technology. Yet even though one could argue that getting stoned wasn’t exactly the best way to connect, when everyone is stoned … or even just two persons … I found that in some persons a sense of humor arise that were not always present in other situations, even a repressed poet or musician.
 

Overall, I found the best “pot highs” to be a different release of inhibitions than being drunk; senses were heightened, and sometimes very amazing creative thoughts appeared and disappeared. No violence, no teary confessions, no hangover. Everything is fun, silly, and everything tastes good. Joy. Unabashed, uninhibited joy.

Maybe the cock doesn’t rise up literally when one ingests pot, but the Romantic poet Coleridge’s imaginative “fancy” did from the depths of my cannabis-intoxicated soul. That same poet wrote the famous dream-vision poem Kubla Khan under the influence of opium.
 

Maybe that could be a motivation to finally legalize that marvelous grass, weed, pot, or any other name.
 

By Will Seagers

[Originally published 02/07/25]

Hi folks, Will here! And yet another odd blog title. I am actually poking fun at the word "work." I thought I'd choose the common and current vernacular of choice. Nevertheless, no matter how you spell, it it all boils down to the same thing.

With all the changes happening around us within the past two weeks, I thought it would be sensible to head back to the workforce. I have enjoyed the past six years of retirement. But, there are some serious signs appearing on the horizon of our great country that are creating a lot of insecurity within me.

Oddly enough, I had been contemplating a part time job for the past year or so. I have a good work ethic and miss employing it. My idea was to take on the simple job of working at my gym for a couple of days a week. I know the place like the back of my hand, since I am there five or six days a week anyway.

I had approached the husband and wife team who own the place with my idea about a year ago. It's a small operation, personnel-wise, and there were no openings at that time. All of that changed just recently.

I received a call about two weeks ago asking if I was still available. I paused for a moment and asked myself if I really wanted to go back to work at the age of 74. It didn't take more than a second to reply with a solid, "Yes!" So, I have been in "training" mode for the past week.

I have loved this gym for the past six years because of the way it is maintained. I have no problem with being a "scullery maid" to keep it that way. It is the membership and bookkeeping aspect that is a bit thorny. And, I live only a mile away!

A lot has changed in the past forty years since I worked in the gyms of San Francisco - in terms of data collection in the membership process. I will be using three computers in this process. Seniors and people in the workforce whose memberships are part of their insurance coverage use one computer program. And, the other two computers deal with cash and credit card sign-ups. It's a bit daunting. But, sheer repetition will have me up and running in no time.

Of course, as I have mentioned in previous blogs, my San Francisco gym experiences were in gay gyms. This one is decidedly co-ed. It is a nice blending of locals - some average and some stunning - all here for the simple purpose of getting fit. I will have to remind myself to keep my tongue in my mouth when the stunners approach! LOL.

So... wish me luck in my gym career redux! This will be like a lot of jobs I have had in my lifetime, where I have had a second or even third chapter. The key thing for me to remember is that "it's just like riding a bike"... I hope!

Bio of Will Seagers:

Will Seagers (also credited as Matt Harper), within his multifaceted careers and participation in numerous gay communities across the country in the '70s and '80s and beyond, worked as a print model, film performer, and DJ, just to name a few. He made iconic appearances in releases from Falcon, Hand in Hand, Joe Gage, Target (Bullet), J. Brian, Steve Scott, and more, including in lead roles in major classics like Gage's L.A. Tool & Die (1979) and Scott's Wanted (1980). He brought strong screen presence and exceptional acting to his roles and was scene partners with many fellow legends of classic porn.