Portrait Inside My Head by Phillip Lopate

Author:Phillip Lopate
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Free Press

After that first brief encounter I did not see Warren Sonbert for several years, until around 1974, when we bumped into each other, again, in the Lincoln Center area—this time at a bar after a New York Film Festival screening of Fassbinder’s Fox and His Friends. I was with my girlfriend at the time, a poet named Kay, and I remember Warren entering with a loud group. I went up to tell him how much I had enjoyed his films, and he, in friendly response, detached himself from his entourage and sat at the table with Kay and me. He was drawn to writers, especially New York School or Language Poets. We had friends in common, and this time we hit it off immediately. I also recall Warren flirting with Kay, who was much taken with him, that night and thereafter. Kay, a Southerner, knew how to flirt with gay or bisexual men. Warren, for his part, was good at befriending both halves of a couple, and remaining loyal to each (much to my chagrin), long after they split up.

We discussed the Fassbinder film, which I (a huge fan of the German filmmaker) liked very much, and he liked less. He found its class analysis of the gay scene heavy-handed. Odd that this particular film should have been the occasion of our reunion. Kay, I think, assumed from the start that Warren was gay, whereas I tabled the question. He and I exchanged phone numbers, vowed to stay in touch, and (a New York rarity) actually did.

In the formation phase of friendship, usually one person feels he is making more of the overtures, but the advances between Warren and me seemed equally distributed. We were both men-about-town, though he was certainly more in demand; he was devoted to the punctilio of popularity, the duty not to give offense. We would meet twice a month or so for dinner, talk for hours about movies, books, work, the people we knew. I found Warren wonderfully discriminating and sympathetic. He had a way of taking your side in any dispute you recounted, while leavening his response with just enough humor to permit you to laugh at yourself.

Every time we parted, no matter how gossipy or frivolous the conversation had been, he would produce this leave-taking look, his eyes liquid from the pleasure of your company and regret at its imminent removal, his voice velvety with promise: till next time. Even if he did this with everyone, I was pleased at the effort: part of his courtly manners, from which I, who rarely modulated the abruptness of my exits, could well afford to learn.

The question of his sexual orientation did not clarify, strangely, in the first few months. For one thing, Warren never spoke, acted, or gestured effeminately; that was not his style. For another, he had the uncanny ability, like many socially gifted people, to mirror the person with whom he happened to be. Too, he may have kept back that information, leaving pronouns vague, while figuring out just how shallow or deep my homophobia ran.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.