No one could ever fully know the impact of Larry Welch, MFA, on my life. I glance thru his photos and public videos now and perhaps he is a mad genius who reprogrammed himself in the world. Perhaps, he is a suffering saint who could never requite the love of his mother. I somehow end up with men like these. One famous talk show host whose only ideal of a woman is Margaret Thatcher and Larry W., with a mother complex, who ran through 6 women at the church minimum to break a trail of hearts while fulfilling his dream. He came closest to love with Nancy D. but his cleats stepped over my heart like a love bearer who had lost his way and just needed a source for his oracle. Yes, his over confident demeanor and strange composure was something that both attracted me and made me cringe. He was life over death, steel over cotton, breaking down the contents of my soul into a recipe of ingredients that would unravel my destiny.
Larry, Larry, your timing was off. I reached the peak of love for you when I handed you that monumental Shakespearean book on December 23, 1989. By Spring, I was on the other side of town, directing my play at the Hollywood Baptist Church. Yet you told me at Sharkey's that this was the night that we were to meet...tonight? Six months after the anti climax you come swooping in for your ravenous remains. Out of awkward curiosity, I accepted.
You looked much worse naked than with clothes. You were already 40 and I was only 29. That was a monumental difference at the time. A 40 year old man, once defined as middle aged. You had that Taurus the Bull swagger and your confidence was that of George Clooney while you resembled Opie from Mayberry RFD.....
TO BE CONTINUED