Why Do I Have Sand In My Hair?

I''''ve been thinking. I tried not to, but it''''s just one of those things that, with proper stimulus, just happen to one. What got me going was the unusually virulent tones that many of my daily blog reads have taken of late. One might go so far as to call it an Epidemic of Snarkiness (if one were inclined to use the word "snarky," which I am not... depsite the fact that I just did). I put it down to Seasonal Affect Disorder and went about my merry way, doing my best to be positive and lighthearted in response.



I am by nature a Hostess. When people are unhappy, I try to cheer them up. When they weep, I try to find something to lighten their hearts. When they are angry, I try to point out the underlying goodness or inevitablility in whatever has made them angry. When there is an uncomfortable silence, a pregnant pause, a banked fire, a sizzling fuse, I will automatically do something to distract attention from the center of the disturbance. I smile, I nod, I change subjects. It''''s part of being an alcoholic, I guess... or perhaps more precisely a result of a WASP''''s fear of emotional intensity paired with a codependent''''s passive-aggresive need to control people, whipped together and poured over an alcoholic''''s knee-jerk reaction to escape reality. I consciously work against this urge, knowing where it''''s errors and shortcomings are, but it''''s part of me.



However, I am also a Reasoner. I want to hear people''''s ideas, and I want to gauge my reactions to those ideas, and I want to consider the values and motives and repercussions of one over the other... and I want to learn something from that comparison. And so as I have read the rants of others, I have tried to understand their points of view and to understand where — and more importantly why — I find myself disagreeing.



I was reading Jhames'''' site this morning, as I do every morning (and most evenings, and sometimes checking in at midday), and I was taken aback by the vehemence of his language. I had been taken aback by the vehemence of his last three or four posts, truth be told. In the first of these, I did my usual Pointing Out The Positive on his comments. It''''s kind of a stupid thing to do, but it''''s habitual with me... sometimes my Editor falls asleep at the switch, and I blurt.



But today''''s post got under my skin in a way that others hadn''''t, and when I read through the previous posts that led up to it and other articles to which it referred, I was forced to sit back and actually think about a number of things, namely: A) Why is this pushing my buttons? B) What is the value of my response? C) On which points do I agree or disagree? D) How much of my agreement/disagreement is from the nervous WASP codependent Hostess, how much is from the Reasoner? E) What exactly do I believe in my higher mind, and what is the value of that belief? and finally F) What has this got to do with anything at all?



The following is pretty long, so I will put in separators (like this [...], the usual thing in blogs) between topics so you can skip around if you want.



[...]



I have gone around the mulberry bush a couple of times in the past, with Jhames and several others, about "The GLBT Community." When I look at sexuality, at community, labels, and how that all comes together in The GLBT Community, I think I see something slightly different than some other people see. I will often share my view when it dissents from the views of others, not necessarily in hope of changing their minds (though that hope is always at the back of even my best motives), but rather to offer a counterpoint... agreeing with people is nice, but it doesn''''t really get you anywhere in dialogue. But when that view of mine is challenged by a not-only-different-but-rather-mutually-exclusive view of the same thing, where a completely valid argument totally rebuts my completely valid argument, I have to take it apart and subject it to Reason.



I guess you could say that Reason is my religion. I mean, my favorite Star Trek character was always Mr. Spock, because he was so cool and intellectual... and yet also understanding. Though he knew something to be entirely illogical, he would go along with it because he knew that his Earthling friends held illogical things to be as important as Vulcans hold logical things (we shall skip over the fact that his character was created by illogical people, and so much of what he said and did was technically out of character, with the built-in excuse that Spock was half-human... Star Trek''''s unending use of racial over cultural influence as character definitions always got on my nerves).



So I always strive to understand people when they do or say or believe things that strike me as Un-Reasonable... because, since it''''s my religion, I have to align everything I encounter to that religion, the way that Saint Augustine of Hippo tried to align all the Classical philosophers he admired to the wildly unclassical religion he had embraced. And yet I know that it''''s unreasonable to do this, to align unreasonable thoughts to reasonable motives, so I often get very confused in my mind.



But that is neither here nor there... I was talking about the so-called GLBT Community and its shortcomings and its value.



[...]



What I don''''t comprehend is how or why people would assume that The GLBT Community is or should be some easily-defined, visibly cohesive unit of people... or how anyone can say that, since it''''s not easily-defined or visibly cohesive, it doesn''''t or shouldn''''t exist? What community in the world is such? All GLBT people have certain things in common, just as all French people have certain things in common (such as that they speak French and were born in France) and all short people have certain things in common (such as they''''re all short); and that commonality creates a community.



You can argue that gay men and lesbians are not alike, that bisexuality and transgendism are fundamentally different phenomena from gayness or lesbianism; but you can also say that Parisiens and Marseillaises are not alike, and that the citizens of Rouen have absolutely fundamental differences from the citizens of Caen. But they''''re still all French. They may not like each other, they may go around killing each other and discriminating against each other and spreading diseases among each other and so on and so forth. They may or may not identify with Jerry Lewis or eat frog''''s legs or wear berets. But they''''re still French, come what may, and have certain rights and priveleges and identifiable lables of Frenchness.



Similarly, not all gays and lesbians and bisexuals and transgendereds like Queer as Folk or do bumps of crystal or drool slavishly over designer labels. But they are still set apart by their minority gender/sexuality. If people are making assumptions about you because you belong to the same community as some people who do like Queer as Folk or do bumps of crystal or drool slavishly over designer labels, those people are to blame for ignorance and intellectual laziness... the community itself is not at fault.



Communities are not made up of like-minded homogeneous people. Communities are made up of people who have certain things in common, be they cultural or geographical or physical or personal or intellectual. Any one person must belong to many different communities... and each person is the possessor of an individual community that is made up only of the people one knows and the things that one holds important in one''''s self. If you are an effeminate gay man living in a big city, you belong to a community of the people you know, a community of effeminate men, a community of gay men, a community of GLBTs in general, a community of your neighborhood, a community of city-dwellers, a community of whatever organizations you belong to, a community of the family you are born into, et cetera ad infinitum. But you aren''''t necessarily just like all the other effeminate gay men in big cities. We are all different, one from the other, and nobody can fit into just one community.



[...]



I have heard it said (and have said it myself when making gross generalizations) that The GLBT Community is only a political construct that is used to garner rights for the people that have been ''''herded'''' into that community for that purpose. I suppose that''''s a reason, but it seems to me more organic than that... the rights of gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered folk are the same, and should be the same as everybody else''''s. If all we have in common is the minority nature of our sexuality and/or gender identification, how can we really be considered a political community? And considering the massive differences between those acronym letters, the vast diversity of needs and desires, what can the possible outcome of such a political bloc be? If the ''''cause'''' of the GLBT political bloc is hurt by the inclusion of transgendered folk, or the proximity of perceived pedophiles, how can the very genesis of such a bloc be useful?



It has always seemed to me that the error of Reason in Civil Rights has been to espouse and champion the causes of specific minorities. To my mind, the whole point of Civil Rights is Equality, that all citizens of a country or planet must have the same rights, that each individual person has value, rather than basing it all on a minority/majority paradigm of the strong versus the weak that is the cause of the trouble in the first place. I don''''t desire Gay Rights because I am Gay: I desire Human Rights because I am Human.



For example, I don''''t believe that same-sex couples should be allowed to marry; I do believe that there is no one in this world who is empowered to tell a same-sex couple that they don''''t have the same rights as a different-sex couple. There is no rational reason to withhold rights from one person that are granted to another, except when those rights have been abused or they prevent/destroy someone else''''s rights (which is what Crime really is, a deprivation of someone''''s rights to life, property, etc.) I don''''t believe that anyone has the right to tell another person what he or she is allowed to do in private to his/her or anybody else''''s body, so long as that action does not impinge on the other person''''s rights.



It''''s a simple matter of logic: there is no Rational reason that people should be denied rights because of same-sex orientation, there are only religious reasons; since our Government is founded upon a separation of Church and State, we therefore cannot rely on religion to guide us to legal right, we must rely on logic. We cannot base the definition of "marriage" on a Judeo-Christian paradigm of Family, because not all of the people who marry today fulfill that fundamental paradigm. What about different-sex couples who are unable or unwilling to have children? If having children is not a requirement of Family, then what does the biological gender of the persons involved in the partnership have to do with its validity? And why is it legal to base the validity of a marriage on a religious ceremony? These things do not make sense, and therefore should not be part of our nation''''s laws.



Of course, there are places where logic is not clear. Such as in abortion, which is the greater right, the woman''''s right over her own body or the fetus''''s right to life? Or in the case of statutory rape, how exactly is the minor''''s right infringed upon, and how does the right of the parent over the minor and the right of the minor over him- or herself coexist?



This is where we need a Superior Court, to judge upon those things, because they are unanswerable questions and must rely on legal nicety. It is a legal nicety that individuality begins at the stage when the fetus can theoretically survive on its own. This is based in rationality; it doesn''''t cover all the questions, but it gives us a working premise. It is a legal nicety that an individual has sufficient self-possession at the age of eighteen to make informed decisions about his or her own body, even though some individuals are perhaps ready for those decisions at a much earlier age and some people are never ready. But you have to draw a line somewhere for the Rule of Law to work.



But it is not in the Constitutional privelege of the Supreme Court to take away people''''s rights for purposes based in religion or opinion. And denying same-sex couples the rights to their own bodies and to their property, and to the transferrence and/or conduct of these (which is what legal marriage is about), is inherently un-Constitutional and must be changed.



[...]



At any rate, I consider the GLBT classification of a civil-rights minority to be specious. Yet I also consider the GLBT Community to be a naturally-occuring actual community, one in which I take an active part and interest. No, I don''''t go to circuit parties or do bumps or wear Raymond Dragon swimwear or go to the gym or live in the Castro. That isn''''t The GLBT Community; it''''s the Circuit-party-gym-bunny-crystal-bumping-Raymond-Dragon-wearing-Castro-clone Community, which is but one (particularly flashy and attention-grabbing) segment of that population. And just because the party-boys and the glittering drag-queens and kookie fringe-elements grab more attention from the fickle and ineffective modern Media than the flannel-wearers and the dog-lovers and the stay-at-homes of our Community, doesn''''t mean that one segment should be made to represent the others or has more or less value than the others. The Community exists, it''''s flawed and wildly imperfect; but it is also perfectible and worthy of better treatment than being thrown out or ignored.



[...]



Another of my buttons that gets pushed is when people state that they consider their sexuality to be merely one of the many facets of their beings, and by no means one of the most important ones; however, it has been my experience that the fact of my sexuality is one of the most important facts about me. It defines me in ways that other Facts About Me do not. It affects my life in more ways than other Facts About Me can. It touches every part of my life, from the courses open to me and the people that I know and the way that I speak and the books that I read, in ways that few Facts About Me could. It is the opening premise, even, of many of the other Facts About Me. For me, being gay is in the top five, at least, of any list of Facts About Me. It''''s so integral to my identity that it practically goes without saying.



This is one of the reasons that a lot of people fall into the habit of ghettoizing themselves regarding their sexuality. Almost everybody I know is a gay man, because being a gay man is such a huge portion of my life and thought-process and identity. Since it''''s so large a part of my life, I tend to gravitate toward others of the same ilk. And with that tendency, I simply don''''t come across very many straight men socially, as most straight men tend to stay away from gatherings of gay males. I know a few straight women, but they tend to have lots of gay male friends, too. I know very few lesbians, at least not closely, and then they are usually women who, like the straight women, have lots of gay men friends. Basically, it''''s a Gay Male-Friendly kind of thing.



Furthermore, most everyone I know is in Recovery. There are many of my friends who aren''''t, but they tend to be generally sober people, not inclined to overdo it, or simply not part of a culture that requires drugs and drinking. Of course, I do this one more on purpose than the Gay Male thing... I simply cannot stand to be around people who are fucked up.



I do not gravitate toward gay men because I want to have sex with them (though sometimes I do), and I don''''t shy away from straight men because I can''''t have sex with them (even when I want to... which does have perhaps more to do with it than I let on). It''''s not really about sex. It''''s about the sorts of people around whom I feel comfortable, connected, and accepted. I have met a lot of gay people who baffle and discomfit me just as much as straights; I have met a number of straights with whom I feel comfortable, connected, and accepted. It''''s just that these don''''t make up a majority of people I know. And since I am an introverted type of person, it stands to reason that I would tailor my social life to places where I feel immediately comfortable. It works for me.



[...]



So as I read Jhames'''' post this morning, I had to remove from the argument these two pushed buttons, and look at it with acceptance on those particular points. I can see very easily how someone would feel differently, I can see very easily how Jhames feels the way he does.



That left several other topics to push my buttons, all right in the first paragraph. For one thing, Jhames is an idealist in ways that I am not, and the Hostess in me feels guilty about that. When people espouse ideals, particularly when their reasons are laudable and well-thought-out, I admire them; yet, when I don''''t hold those same ideals, I fear that my very existence, along with my disagreement, will be abhorrent to them. The very idea of people not liking me still tends to get my panties in a bunch, Reason and Recovery notwithstanding, and so a disagreement on loft ideals terrifies me.



For example, I do not believe that animals have rights other than those we give them... I don''''t consider animals to be sentient, really, though this is not a scientific or Reasonable belief, it''''s just something that I feel and it has not been proved wrong to me. I therefore feel no compunction about eating meat or wearing fur or leather or conducting scientific experiments on animals. I disapprove of cruelty towards animals, and I personally feel squeamish about causing pain to animals, but it is because of the effect I believe such things have on the human spirit... civilization requires a degree of squeamishness, I think, in order to progress from our tribal beginnings.



However, I know that Jhames feels entirely differently about this, and it worries me because I like Jhames a lot and I want him to like me. I know in my Reasoning mind that Jhames is capable of accepting and liking me despite this key difference of belief, just as I am capable of accepting and liking him... but in my Hostessy codependent mind I worry anyway. Another pushed button.



[...]



Then there is the issue of activism, which also worries me and makes me feel guilty. I don''''t believe, for example, that anything can be achieved through demonstrations. Peace marches and what-have-you often strike me as being little more than pep-rallies that give their participants a false sense of accomplishing something, a vent for their fears and anger and indignation over injustices done. The venting and the rallying, in and of themselves, are perfectly laudable reasons to have a peace march, or a Civil Rights march, or any other kind of march... but the demonstration does nothing for me and I don''''t think it accomplishes the task at hand, so I don''''t participate.



And yet, I also do not try and do anything that will accomplish the task at hand. I don''''t really understand what the task at hand is. I see social injustice, and I burn with anger and indignation, but my only cure for the anger is to bury my head in the sand, the only outlet for indignation is to point out as publicly as I can the rational errors that are being committed. And I feel guilty that I am not on the front lines, that I am not out there beating my head against that big brick wall of the Establishment trying to effect change.



I tend my own garden, and hope that others will tend theirs. I do not indulge in or practice social injustice, I eschew hatred, I try my very best to respect other people even when I believe they''''re wrong. If we all did this, the world would be a vast utopia of introspective and peaceful people.



But there are people who are constitutionally incapable of minding their own business. And among those who do not mind their own business, there is Good and there is Evil. And the evil will mind your business for you whether you want them to or not. Therefore, there comes a time when minding one''''s own business is not enough, one has to prevent people from overstepping their rights and enforcing their wills on other people''''s gardens... a time when tending is not enough, you have to protect the gardens, your own as well as everybody else''''s. And then you get kind of mixed up as to whether or not you are doing good or evil yourself, by minding other people''''s business (a lot of Evil is done in the hopes or under pretense of doing Good).



Above all this, I know that I am not designed to mind other people''''s business (outside of my codependent desire for controlling others in the interest of their own happiness)... I am not a changer, a crusader, a doer. Perhaps I could be, if the borders of my own garden were threatened, but in general I cannot emotionally handle this sort of thing... I can''''t process the fear and the anger and the indignation. It makes me sick, it makes me hurt physically, so that all I can do is turn my attention somewhere else, stop reading newspapers and watching the news on television and listening to news radio. I just want everyone to get along, and they don''''t, so I ignore them as best I can. I shove my head in the sand and wait for the feeling to pass, then examine it all dispassionately from the comparative safety of the inside of my own head.



Essentially, you can''''t make a potholder out of silk tulle. And why should you, when there are big pieces of teflon and cotton batting around? Though you can''''t make a potholder out of tulle, it is also true that you can''''t make an evening gown out of teflon and cotton batting. And the tulle evening gown has its function, too... not as utilitarian and necessary as the potholder, but it has its place in the universe. If it weren''''t for the armchair philosopher, there would be no one to tell the crusaders when they had left off doing Good and were suddenly doing Evil out of habit. If it weren''''t for the entertainers of the world, the hostesses and the chit-chatters, the world would be a grim and mechanical place. If nobody gave you something to laugh about, something to love, and something frivolous to do with your spare time, what would be the point of living?



I am a silk tulle evening gown. I stand at the sidelines and cheer for you, Jhames, as you tilt with the dragons. Go Jhames Go! Keep pushing those buttons, everybody, keep fighting the good fight. When you''''re tired and bored, come on by Mannersism and I will give you a kiss and a little song to sing (unless I''''m in a bad mood, of course).



[...]



Thanks for sticking with me this far. Please feel encouraged to comment. The only way for dialogue to work is if people react and respond.



By the way, as I was researching my quotation on Tend Your Own Garden (which is originally from Voltaire), I stumbled across an online text of Candide. Read it... it''''s really good! I thought I was Dr. Pangloss, but decided that I wasn''''t.

Why Do I Have Sand In My Hair?

I''''''''''''''''ve been thinking. I tried not to, but it''''''''''''''''s just one of those things that, with proper stimulus, just happen to one. What got me going was the unusually virulent tones that many of my daily blog reads have taken of late. One might go so far as to call it an Epidemic of Snarkiness (if one were inclined to use the word "snarky," which I am not... depsite the fact that I just did). I put it down to Seasonal Affect Disorder and went about my merry way, doing my best to be positive and lighthearted in response.



I am by nature a Hostess. When people are unhappy, I try to cheer them up. When they weep, I try to find something to lighten their hearts. When they are angry, I try to point out the underlying goodness or inevitablility in whatever has made them angry. When there is an uncomfortable silence, a pregnant pause, a banked fire, a sizzling fuse, I will automatically do something to distract attention from the center of the disturbance. I smile, I nod, I change subjects. It''''''''''''''''s part of being an alcoholic, I guess... or perhaps more precisely a result of a WASP''''''''''''''''s fear of emotional intensity paired with a codependent''''''''''''''''s passive-aggresive need to control people, whipped together and poured over an alcoholic''''''''''''''''s knee-jerk reaction to escape reality. I consciously work against this urge, knowing where it''''''''''''''''s errors and shortcomings are, but it''''''''''''''''s part of me.



However, I am also a Reasoner. I want to hear people''''''''''''''''s ideas, and I want to gauge my reactions to those ideas, and I want to consider the values and motives and repercussions of one over the other... and I want to learn something from that comparison. And so as I have read the rants of others, I have tried to understand their points of view and to understand where — and more importantly why — I find myself disagreeing.



I was reading Jhames'''''''''''''''' site this morning, as I do every morning (and most evenings, and sometimes checking in at midday), and I was taken aback by the vehemence of his language. I had been taken aback by the vehemence of his last three or four posts, truth be told. In the first of these, I did my usual Pointing Out The Positive on his comments. It''''''''''''''''s kind of a stupid thing to do, but it''''''''''''''''s habitual with me... sometimes my Editor falls asleep at the switch, and I blurt.



But today''''''''''''''''s post got under my skin in a way that others hadn''''''''''''''''t, and when I read through the previous posts that led up to it and other articles to which it referred, I was forced to sit back and actually think about a number of things, namely: A) Why is this pushing my buttons? B) What is the value of my response? C) On which points do I agree or disagree? D) How much of my agreement/disagreement is from the nervous WASP codependent Hostess, how much is from the Reasoner? E) What exactly do I believe in my higher mind, and what is the value of that belief? and finally F) What has this got to do with anything at all?



The following is pretty long, so I will put in separators (like this [...], the usual thing in blogs) between topics so you can skip around if you want.



[...]



I have gone around the mulberry bush a couple of times in the past, with Jhames and several others, about "The GLBT Community." When I look at sexuality, at community, labels, and how that all comes together in The GLBT Community, I think I see something slightly different than some other people see. I will often share my view when it dissents from the views of others, not necessarily in hope of changing their minds (though that hope is always at the back of even my best motives), but rather to offer a counterpoint... agreeing with people is nice, but it doesn''''''''''''''''t really get you anywhere in dialogue. But when that view of mine is challenged by a not-only-different-but-rather-mutually-exclusive view of the same thing, where a completely valid argument totally rebuts my completely valid argument, I have to take it apart and subject it to Reason.



I guess you could say that Reason is my religion. I mean, my favorite Star Trek character was always Mr. Spock, because he was so cool and intellectual... and yet also understanding. Though he knew something to be entirely illogical, he would go along with it because he knew that his Earthling friends held illogical things to be as important as Vulcans hold logical things (we shall skip over the fact that his character was created by illogical people, and so much of what he said and did was technically out of character, with the built-in excuse that Spock was half-human... Star Trek''''''''''''''''s unending use of racial over cultural influence as character definitions always got on my nerves).



So I always strive to understand people when they do or say or believe things that strike me as Un-Reasonable... because, since it''''''''''''''''s my religion, I have to align everything I encounter to that religion, the way that Saint Augustine of Hippo tried to align all the Classical philosophers he admired to the wildly unclassical religion he had embraced. And yet I know that it''''''''''''''''s unreasonable to do this, to align unreasonable thoughts to reasonable motives, so I often get very confused in my mind.



But that is neither here nor there... I was talking about the so-called GLBT Community and its shortcomings and its value.



[...]



What I don''''''''''''''''t comprehend is how or why people would assume that The GLBT Community is or should be some easily-defined, visibly cohesive unit of people... or how anyone can say that, since it''''''''''''''''s not easily-defined or visibly cohesive, it doesn''''''''''''''''t or shouldn''''''''''''''''t exist? What community in the world is such? All GLBT people have certain things in common, just as all French people have certain things in common (such as that they speak French and were born in France) and all short people have certain things in common (such as they''''''''''''''''re all short); and that commonality creates a community.



You can argue that gay men and lesbians are not alike, that bisexuality and transgendism are fundamentally different phenomena from gayness or lesbianism; but you can also say that Parisiens and Marseillaises are not alike, and that the citizens of Rouen have absolutely fundamental differences from the citizens of Caen. But they''''''''''''''''re still all French. They may not like each other, they may go around killing each other and discriminating against each other and spreading diseases among each other and so on and so forth. They may or may not identify with Jerry Lewis or eat frog''''''''''''''''s legs or wear berets. But they''''''''''''''''re still French, come what may, and have certain rights and priveleges and identifiable lables of Frenchness.



Similarly, not all gays and lesbians and bisexuals and transgendereds like Queer as Folk or do bumps of crystal or drool slavishly over designer labels. But they are still set apart by their minority gender/sexuality. If people are making assumptions about you because you belong to the same community as some people who do like Queer as Folk or do bumps of crystal or drool slavishly over designer labels, those people are to blame for ignorance and intellectual laziness... the community itself is not at fault.



Communities are not made up of like-minded homogeneous people. Communities are made up of people who have certain things in common, be they cultural or geographical or physical or personal or intellectual. Any one person must belong to many different communities... and each person is the possessor of an individual community that is made up only of the people one knows and the things that one holds important in one''''''''''''''''s self. If you are an effeminate gay man living in a big city, you belong to a community of the people you know, a community of effeminate men, a community of gay men, a community of GLBTs in general, a community of your neighborhood, a community of city-dwellers, a community of whatever organizations you belong to, a community of the family you are born into, et cetera ad infinitum. But you aren''''''''''''''''t necessarily just like all the other effeminate gay men in big cities. We are all different, one from the other, and nobody can fit into just one community.



[...]



I have heard it said (and have said it myself when making gross generalizations) that The GLBT Community is only a political construct that is used to garner rights for the people that have been ''''''''''''''''herded'''''''''''''''' into that community for that purpose. I suppose that''''''''''''''''s a reason, but it seems to me more organic than that... the rights of gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered folk are the same, and should be the same as everybody else''''''''''''''''s. If all we have in common is the minority nature of our sexuality and/or gender identification, how can we really be considered a political community? And considering the massive differences between those acronym letters, the vast diversity of needs and desires, what can the possible outcome of such a political bloc be? If the ''''''''''''''''cause'''''''''''''''' of the GLBT political bloc is hurt by the inclusion of transgendered folk, or the proximity of perceived pedophiles, how can the very genesis of such a bloc be useful?



It has always seemed to me that the error of Reason in Civil Rights has been to espouse and champion the causes of specific minorities. To my mind, the whole point of Civil Rights is Equality, that all citizens of a country or planet must have the same rights, that each individual person has value, rather than basing it all on a minority/majority paradigm of the strong versus the weak that is the cause of the trouble in the first place. I don''''''''''''''''t desire Gay Rights because I am Gay: I desire Human Rights because I am Human.



For example, I don''''''''''''''''t believe that same-sex couples should be allowed to marry; I do believe that there is no one in this world who is empowered to tell a same-sex couple that they don''''''''''''''''t have the same rights as a different-sex couple. There is no rational reason to withhold rights from one person that are granted to another, except when those rights have been abused or they prevent/destroy someone else''''''''''''''''s rights (which is what Crime really is, a deprivation of someone''''''''''''''''s rights to life, property, etc.) I don''''''''''''''''t believe that anyone has the right to tell another person what he or she is allowed to do in private to his/her or anybody else''''''''''''''''s body, so long as that action does not impinge on the other person''''''''''''''''s rights.



It''''''''''''''''s a simple matter of logic: there is no Rational reason that people should be denied rights because of same-sex orientation, there are only religious reasons; since our Government is founded upon a separation of Church and State, we therefore cannot rely on religion to guide us to legal right, we must rely on logic. We cannot base the definition of "marriage" on a Judeo-Christian paradigm of Family, because not all of the people who marry today fulfill that fundamental paradigm. What about different-sex couples who are unable or unwilling to have children? If having children is not a requirement of Family, then what does the biological gender of the persons involved in the partnership have to do with its validity? And why is it legal to base the validity of a marriage on a religious ceremony? These things do not make sense, and therefore should not be part of our nation''''''''''''''''s laws.



Of course, there are places where logic is not clear. Such as in abortion, which is the greater right, the woman''''''''''''''''s right over her own body or the fetus''''''''''''''''s right to life? Or in the case of statutory rape, how exactly is the minor''''''''''''''''s right infringed upon, and how does the right of the parent over the minor and the right of the minor over him- or herself coexist?



This is where we need a Superior Court, to judge upon those things, because they are unanswerable questions and must rely on legal nicety. It is a legal nicety that individuality begins at the stage when the fetus can theoretically survive on its own. This is based in rationality; it doesn''''''''''''''''t cover all the questions, but it gives us a working premise. It is a legal nicety that an individual has sufficient self-possession at the age of eighteen to make informed decisions about his or her own body, even though some individuals are perhaps ready for those decisions at a much earlier age and some people are never ready. But you have to draw a line somewhere for the Rule of Law to work.



But it is not in the Constitutional privelege of the Supreme Court to take away people''''''''''''''''s rights for purposes based in religion or opinion. And denying same-sex couples the rights to their own bodies and to their property, and to the transferrence and/or conduct of these (which is what legal marriage is about), is inherently un-Constitutional and must be changed.



[...]



At any rate, I consider the GLBT classification of a civil-rights minority to be specious. Yet I also consider the GLBT Community to be a naturally-occuring actual community, one in which I take an active part and interest. No, I don''''''''''''''''t go to circuit parties or do bumps or wear Raymond Dragon swimwear or go to the gym or live in the Castro. That isn''''''''''''''''t The GLBT Community; it''''''''''''''''s the Circuit-party-gym-bunny-crystal-bumping-Raymond-Dragon-wearing-Castro-clone Community, which is but one (particularly flashy and attention-grabbing) segment of that population. And just because the party-boys and the glittering drag-queens and kookie fringe-elements grab more attention from the fickle and ineffective modern Media than the flannel-wearers and the dog-lovers and the stay-at-homes of our Community, doesn''''''''''''''''t mean that one segment should be made to represent the others or has more or less value than the others. The Community exists, it''''''''''''''''s flawed and wildly imperfect; but it is also perfectible and worthy of better treatment than being thrown out or ignored.



[...]



Another of my buttons that gets pushed is when people state that they consider their sexuality to be merely one of the many facets of their beings, and by no means one of the most important ones; however, it has been my experience that the fact of my sexuality is one of the most important facts about me. It defines me in ways that other Facts About Me do not. It affects my life in more ways than other Facts About Me can. It touches every part of my life, from the courses open to me and the people that I know and the way that I speak and the books that I read, in ways that few Facts About Me could. It is the opening premise, even, of many of the other Facts About Me. For me, being gay is in the top five, at least, of any list of Facts About Me. It''''''''''''''''s so integral to my identity that it practically goes without saying.



This is one of the reasons that a lot of people fall into the habit of ghettoizing themselves regarding their sexuality. Almost everybody I know is a gay man, because being a gay man is such a huge portion of my life and thought-process and identity. Since it''''''''''''''''s so large a part of my life, I tend to gravitate toward others of the same ilk. And with that tendency, I simply don''''''''''''''''t come across very many straight men socially, as most straight men tend to stay away from gatherings of gay males. I know a few straight women, but they tend to have lots of gay male friends, too. I know very few lesbians, at least not closely, and then they are usually women who, like the straight women, have lots of gay men friends. Basically, it''''''''''''''''s a Gay Male-Friendly kind of thing.



Furthermore, most everyone I know is in Recovery. There are many of my friends who aren''''''''''''''''t, but they tend to be generally sober people, not inclined to overdo it, or simply not part of a culture that requires drugs and drinking. Of course, I do this one more on purpose than the Gay Male thing... I simply cannot stand to be around people who are fucked up.



I do not gravitate toward gay men because I want to have sex with them (though sometimes I do), and I don''''''''''''''''t shy away from straight men because I can''''''''''''''''t have sex with them (even when I want to... which does have perhaps more to do with it than I let on). It''''''''''''''''s not really about sex. It''''''''''''''''s about the sorts of people around whom I feel comfortable, connected, and accepted. I have met a lot of gay people who baffle and discomfit me just as much as straights; I have met a number of straights with whom I feel comfortable, connected, and accepted. It''''''''''''''''s just that these don''''''''''''''''t make up a majority of people I know. And since I am an introverted type of person, it stands to reason that I would tailor my social life to places where I feel immediately comfortable. It works for me.



[...]



So as I read Jhames'''''''''''''''' post this morning, I had to remove from the argument these two pushed buttons, and look at it with acceptance on those particular points. I can see very easily how someone would feel differently, I can see very easily how Jhames feels the way he does.



That left several other topics to push my buttons, all right in the first paragraph. For one thing, Jhames is an idealist in ways that I am not, and the Hostess in me feels guilty about that. When people espouse ideals, particularly when their reasons are laudable and well-thought-out, I admire them; yet, when I don''''''''''''''''t hold those same ideals, I fear that my very existence, along with my disagreement, will be abhorrent to them. The very idea of people not liking me still tends to get my panties in a bunch, Reason and Recovery notwithstanding, and so a disagreement on loft ideals terrifies me.



For example, I do not believe that animals have rights other than those we give them... I don''''''''''''''''t consider animals to be sentient, really, though this is not a scientific or Reasonable belief, it''''''''''''''''s just something that I feel and it has not been proved wrong to me. I therefore feel no compunction about eating meat or wearing fur or leather or conducting scientific experiments on animals. I disapprove of cruelty towards animals, and I personally feel squeamish about causing pain to animals, but it is because of the effect I believe such things have on the human spirit... civilization requires a degree of squeamishness, I think, in order to progress from our tribal beginnings.



However, I know that Jhames feels entirely differently about this, and it worries me because I like Jhames a lot and I want him to like me. I know in my Reasoning mind that Jhames is capable of accepting and liking me despite this key difference of belief, just as I am capable of accepting and liking him... but in my Hostessy codependent mind I worry anyway. Another pushed button.



[...]



Then there is the issue of activism, which also worries me and makes me feel guilty. I don''''''''''''''''t believe, for example, that anything can be achieved through demonstrations. Peace marches and what-have-you often strike me as being little more than pep-rallies that give their participants a false sense of accomplishing something, a vent for their fears and anger and indignation over injustices done. The venting and the rallying, in and of themselves, are perfectly laudable reasons to have a peace march, or a Civil Rights march, or any other kind of march... but the demonstration does nothing for me and I don''''''''''''''''t think it accomplishes the task at hand, so I don''''''''''''''''t participate.



And yet, I also do not try and do anything that will accomplish the task at hand. I don''''''''''''''''t really understand what the task at hand is. I see social injustice, and I burn with anger and indignation, but my only cure for the anger is to bury my head in the sand, the only outlet for indignation is to point out as publicly as I can the rational errors that are being committed. And I feel guilty that I am not on the front lines, that I am not out there beating my head against that big brick wall of the Establishment trying to effect change.



I tend my own garden, and hope that others will tend theirs. I do not indulge in or practice social injustice, I eschew hatred, I try my very best to respect other people even when I believe they''''''''''''''''re wrong. If we all did this, the world would be a vast utopia of introspective and peaceful people.



But there are people who are constitutionally incapable of minding their own business. And among those who do not mind their own business, there is Good and there is Evil. And the evil will mind your business for you whether you want them to or not. Therefore, there comes a time when minding one''''''''''''''''s own business is not enough, one has to prevent people from overstepping their rights and enforcing their wills on other people''''''''''''''''s gardens... a time when tending is not enough, you have to protect the gardens, your own as well as everybody else''''''''''''''''s. And then you get kind of mixed up as to whether or not you are doing good or evil yourself, by minding other people''''''''''''''''s business (a lot of Evil is done in the hopes or under pretense of doing Good).



Above all this, I know that I am not designed to mind other people''''''''''''''''s business (outside of my codependent desire for controlling others in the interest of their own happiness)... I am not a changer, a crusader, a doer. Perhaps I could be, if the borders of my own garden were threatened, but in general I cannot emotionally handle this sort of thing... I can''''''''''''''''t process the fear and the anger and the indignation. It makes me sick, it makes me hurt physically, so that all I can do is turn my attention somewhere else, stop reading newspapers and watching the news on television and listening to news radio. I just want everyone to get along, and they don''''''''''''''''t, so I ignore them as best I can. I shove my head in the sand and wait for the feeling to pass, then examine it all dispassionately from the comparative safety of the inside of my own head.



Essentially, you can''''''''''''''''t make a potholder out of silk tulle. And why should you, when there are big pieces of teflon and cotton batting around? Though you can''''''''''''''''t make a potholder out of tulle, it is also true that you can''''''''''''''''t make an evening gown out of teflon and cotton batting. And the tulle evening gown has its function, too... not as utilitarian and necessary as the potholder, but it has its place in the universe. If it weren''''''''''''''''t for the armchair philosopher, there would be no one to tell the crusaders when they had left off doing Good and were suddenly doing Evil out of habit. If it weren''''''''''''''''t for the entertainers of the world, the hostesses and the chit-chatters, the world would be a grim and mechanical place. If nobody gave you something to laugh about, something to love, and something frivolous to do with your spare time, what would be the point of living?



I am a silk tulle evening gown. I stand at the sidelines and cheer for you, Jhames, as you tilt with the dragons. Go Jhames Go! Keep pushing those buttons, everybody, keep fighting the good fight. When you''''''''''''''''re tired and bored, come on by Mannersism and I will give you a kiss and a little song to sing (unless I''''''''''''''''m in a bad mood, of course).



[...]



Thanks for sticking with me this far. Please feel encouraged to comment. The only way for dialogue to work is if people react and respond.



By the way, as I was researching my quotation on Tend Your Own Garden (which is originally from Voltaire), I stumbled across an online text of Candide. Read it... it''''''''''''''''s really good! I thought I was Dr. Pangloss, but decided that I wasn''''''''''''''''t.

It Seems to be Friday Again

So, first off, I went and saw Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets last night... oh, my God! It was fabulous!!! Much, much better than the first film. It hung together really well, it flowed perfectly, there was just the right timing between action and humor and drama. The visual effects were amazing, but never gratuitous. It had oomph and espièglerie and Darstellungskunst. The children are learning to act, and the great actors are learning to tone it down to their costars. Most importantly, it lacked the idiotic Chris "Home Alone" Columbus slapstick touches that plagued Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone... in fact, the directing shows a depth of characterization and a delicacy of touch that was entirely unexpected.



How a child is supposed to watch such a film, however, is beyond me. There was this one scene with spiders that had both Caroline and I crumpled into the backs of our seats while clutching each-other's arms and squealing like defective smoke detectors... when I was five or six, such a scene would have sent me straight into hysterics. There was even a serpentine door that was utterly terrifying... and when the mechanical props are scarier than the creatures in other movies, I wouldn't recommend it for little ones.



Still, it was a totally worthwhile film. I don't know if they're into production on the third film yet, but I wonder what they're going to do about losing a key actor? With Richard Harris gone to his final reward, whoever will be able to carry off the role of "Dumbledore"? And if they don't hurry it along, the young stars aren't going to be so young anymore. Daniel Radcliffe ("Harry Potter") looks like he's about to turn into a teen hearthrob at any moment. Such a cutie! But it will be hard to believe him as a thirteen-year-old when he starts growing a beard.



And speaking of films, I also enjoyed Far From Heaven on Wednesday evening. Julianne Moore was utterly amazing, with her steady voice and stony yet strangely emotive face. The production values were terribly interesting as well... there was this degree of artificiality that really underscored the repressions of the time and place that the characters occupied. It was as if someone had made a movie in the 50s, but with the freedom to discuss topics that were verboten in those days... homosexuality, race relations, etc. I recommend it to anyone who likes to see beautiful scenes and tour-de-force acting. Just be prepared for the corniness of the Fifties to jump out at you in unexpected moments, inspiring guilty giggles in the younger audience-members.



The drama of my teeth continues. I broke the tooth that I just spent so much money having root-canaled, while stupidly eating Doritos no less, and so I made an emergency appointment for this afternoon; and then today, when I was flossing the egg-salad sandwich remains out of the way in preparation for professional scrutiny, another filling simply popped right out of an upper molar. It had been loose for some time, I guess the movement wore away at the tooth holding it in, and out it came (with a little blob of egg-salad on it). And, according to my dentist, sometime in the last few days I have cracked a filling on an upper bicuspid as well.



The broken tooth is not as much a problem as I had feared, since I needed a post-and-crown anyway and the tooth broke in such a way that the only portion that was damaged was the part that would have been scaled off for the crown in the first place. And since the tooth is already root-canaled, it doesn't hurt at all. It just feels weird having this loose bit of tooth in my mouth. With the filling that came out, there doesn't seem to be much in the way of tooth-decay, it appears instead that it just hadn't been installed properly way back when... it will only need a little drilling and a filling. The broken filling will have the same procedure, supposing that there isn't more damage than meets the eye. I discussed my difficulty with pain, my resistance to novocaine, and my terror of dentistry with the good doctor, and he assured me that he would have everything ready for me, from nitrous to Valium to lidocaine, as necessary.



What is a problem is that I can't get this done until December 7th, until which time I can't eat anything hard or chewy. Then, on the 7th, which is a Saturday, I have to be there at 8:30 a.m. Oh, and since I don't have dental insurance, it is going to set me back about $1,400 all together (more than I paid for my car, but only half the amount I spent on jewelry this year... which I think puts it in pretty good perspective). I guess everyone is going to be getting hand-made potholders for Christmas.



Sometimes I really hate having teeth. But then, I think I'd really dislike not having teeth. Dentures wouldn't be too bad, I guess, since with them I'd have straight white teeth for the first time in my life, but then dentures aren't any less trouble than real teeth, they're simply different trouble.



Well, anyway, that's what's going on today. In closing, I would like to share with you the funniest thing I've received in an email for many a moon. I'm not sure how genuine these are, or whence they came, but I laughed so hard I actually cried (and I omit the ones that didn't make me cry). Thanks, Dakota, for passing them along!



Actual Analogies and Metaphors Found in High School Essays:



•He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one those boxes with a pinhole in it.



•She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.



•She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.



•Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.



•He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.



•The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.



•The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.



•McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.



•From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.



•Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.



•Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.



•John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.



•Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.



•"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a college freshman on $1-a-beer night.



•He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame... maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.



•The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.



•It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.



•He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.



•She was as easy as the TV Guide crossword.



•She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.



•Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.



•It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.



•The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.



I have to go get a tissue now. Have a lovely weekend, my beautiful darlings!

Blah, Blah, Blah!

Here we go blogging with nothing to say. I seem to be bored, lately... that feeling of not having anything you want to do, and not wanting to do anything you have to do, and not really caring one way or another. I call that boredom. And there's nothing to do but wait for it to pass, like a cold or allergy season.



Speaking of boring, I am officially sick to death of John Mayer. Okay, so he's very cute; okay, so his songs are pleasant and tuneful... but he's so fucking bland! And he's on the radio all the time... if I have to hear "Your Body is a Wonderland" (with it's disturbing image of a 'bubblegum tongue') one more time, I am going to go off the deep end. Of course, one problem is that I live in an area where almost all of the radio stations are owned by the same company, and have the same programming as well as the same commercials (which are timed to come on at the same time, so you can't escape them). Those which aren't owned by this company are owned by another giant well-orchestrated communications company, or are devoted to endlessly boring talk and/or community access programming.



I am going to have to get new batteries in my CD player and bring more CDs out to the car. I'll wait John Mayer out, that's what I'll do! And Cheryl Crow and Avril Levigne and all of these other faux-edgy pseudo-moderns. The rest of America will have to get tired of them eventually, and something new and interesting will happen.



I think it's just that we are entering one of the musical Dark Ages that comes along every now and again. Like the early 90s. Vast wastelands of nothingness, where popular music transitions from one great time to another. When everything starts sounding alike, prefabricated for instant popularity, because record executives are trying to sell something just like that which sold before, and people are dumb enough to buy it. I think what's wrong right now is this market-fear in which everything is a clone of something that has already been proven successful... so now we know what happens when there are too many Boy-Bands and Britney-Clones. It seems to me that right now, the entire market is focussed on a group of people (young teens) who can't be expected to have developed any taste yet, and who always do exactly what the Disney Channel tells them to do.



I have to respect Disney for its thoroughness, and the quality of product, but honey they are the new Evil Empire... they are garnering such power over the public that they are no longer catering to trends, they are dictating them. Mark my words, one day we'll have a Lawrence brother or a Lizzie McGuire cast-member as our president. It will be an improvement, no doubt (Lawrence brothers are awfully cute, and they're probably smarter than a Bush or Clinton), but it's still creepy.



Speaking of creepy and Bush (practically synonyms), I just heard from my coworker that the Senate passed the Homeland Security Bill, carrying not only the entire GOP but a good sampling of Democrats as well. Funny how "Homeland" and "Fatherland" sound so much alike in this context. Grandmother also told me the other day that the arms inspectors have begun their sweep of Iraq and its weapons holdings. I'm told that Hussein claimed that he has no weapons at all, which nobody believes... and I had to point out to Grandmother that the reason we all know that he's lying is because we are the ones who sold the arms to him in the first place. I imagine it would be difficult to produce a receipt, though... I'm sure Fawn Hall and good old Ollie North (who is now considered a national hero for reasons that completely escape me) shredded it with the rest of the Iran/Contra documents.



It's all so very disturbing that it doesn't really seem quite real. I keep feeling like I'm going to wake up and it will all have been an unpleasant dream... or perhaps an over-elaborate practical joke in very poor taste.



Though I usually prefer holding to Henry James' edict of "never apologize, never explain," I want to apologetically explain myself in the matter of critical population growth, about which I lashed out in my last post. Though nobody complained of my opinion, I have come to feel (during my usual compulsive and repetitive re-reading of my own work) that by overstating my case for dramatic effect, I essentially lied. I do want to assure people who have children or are considering having children that I do not blame them for the problem. I mean, there are so many other globally irresponsible things going on — things to which I myself contribute: beef production and oil consumption to name but two that come immediately to mind — that I have absolutely no right to characterize people having children as irresponsible.



The phenomenon I complain of is the assumption of prerogative in having children. It seems to me (and I may be wrong) that people don't think about the sociological and ecological effect of each single child born into this world; they take child-bearing rather for granted. Many people seem seldom to question their own fitness as parents, and they certainly don't think about the resources that each life uses up, they don't seem to comprehend the scope of overpopulation. They merely have children because they expect that they will, without thinking about it at all. But this is a gross generalization of my own observations, and considering the necessarily limited scope of those observations, I shouldn't be making such a generalization in the first place.



So, having got all of that off my chest, I am going to go eat some lunch. Later today I am going to see Far from Heaven starring the delicious Julianne Moore; and tomorrow I am going to see Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. On Friday I am invited to a literary salon, and Sunday I have a drag show... so it doesn't look like I'm going to have time to be bored. Things are gearing up again. Soon it will all be far too much, and I will look back nostalgically on this period of bland ennui as an Elysium of leisure.



On this last topic, here are some sage words, which were the text of a sampler my mother once received as a white-elephant gift from a church Christmas party (I only saw it once, and I don't know why I remember it so clearly, except that it is so terribly, terribly true):

This animal, Man, is such a fool:

When it's hot, he wants it cool;

When it's cool, he wants it hot.

He's always wanting what is not.

Shopping, Parties, Musicals... and Straights

Hello, my name is Robert, and I am a heterophobe. There, I've admitted it... I'm not proud of it, but there it is. Straight people get on my nerves. Not individually, mind you — I have no problem with straight people in and of themselves (so long as they don't act too straight)... but in large groups, they tend to make me very uncomfortable.



(As an aside, I feel it necessary to expound a little on the mild inaccuracy of the word I am using here, "heterophobia," and the wild inaccuracy of the word I am using it to contrast, "homophobia." Homo-Phobia, in the meaning of its roots, would have to translate as Fear of Same... one would hate that which is like oneself. In Hetero-Phobia, Fear of Different, one hates that which is different from oneself. The word "homophobia" is really just a sort of shorthanded corruption of homoerotophobia, which is the correct word for hating people or things or ideas which are related to same-gendered sexual behavior. Then, the opposite of this word would be heteroerotophobia, which isn't exactly correct as I have no particular dislike of them because of their sexual behavior, but rather because of their social behavior. So, to use a word that is the opposite of an incorrect word, and yet happens to be the nearly-correct description of the situation — i.e., I dislike that which is different from myself, though only in this particular aspect — is essentially a laziness of language, which I am loath to continue. But I would like to continue what I was saying, so we will have to take it as read, with cautions, and go on...)



I'm sure I'm just projecting, and that this feeling is based on ignorance and prejudice, but when I find myself in a large group of straight people, I feel that I can't talk about myself, or about anything that's important to me, because they won't understand me. I'm afraid that they will ask perfectly earnest and innocent but no less insulting questions. I'm afraid that I will say the wrong thing or respond in the wrong fashion to what they say about themselves and that which is important to them, which I might not understand. In short, I'm afraid they won't like me.



And aside from this fear, there is a certain amount of loathing (any good phobia must have both); this loathing is based largely on my own envy, a jealousy of the apparent ease and acceptance that straights enjoy which gays do not... the knowledge that the laws of the nation are designed to protect their rights to marry and to inherit and to reproduce... rights that gays have to fight tooth and nail to procure. There's an envy of people for whom things are designed and addressed, people for whom romantic comedies and television dramas and Holiday specials are written and produced and aired... the knowledge that I will know and understand what they're saying and what is important to them because I have read it and heard it and seen it all of my life, where they will have had considerably less exposure to my lifestyle. It's the jealousy that any oppressed and/or minority person will feel at least once in his or her life, the envy of the members of the dominant paradigm, in which one plays no part and owns no stake oneself.



The result of this is that I have no straight male friends whatsoever, have only a small handful of straight female friends (and most of these aren't really "straight," they're simply heterosexual), I never go to straight AA meetings, I seldom attend parties of mostly straight people, and I pretty much just avoid straights whenever it is convenient. I often feel the limitations of this, especially when I find myself thrown into a large group of straights for whatever unavoidable reason, but I haven't really found it necessary to change it.



At any rate, on Saturday I spent the day doing things that I often think of as being generally Gay (not exclusively gay things, but things that gays tend to enjoy) — I went shopping, went to a party, and watched a musical — and in all three of these things, I was unendingly and almost unbearably surrounded by straights. Of course, the fact that I was with my Grandmother through all of these had more than a little to do with it, but it still brought itself to my attention with the intensity of heterophobia I felt (this is almost a theme developing, here... me being surprised by the intensity of my own feelings).



So the Grandmother and I went out shopping at Southland Mall in Hayward, because there were some sales at Macy's and Mervyn's she wanted to check out (she wants new bathroom mats and sheets for her bed), and maybe get a head-start on the Christmas giftery (we usually wait until the week before Christmas to do both our shopping), and try to find a gift for a housewarming party to which we were invited later that day.



All the time I was there, I was surrounded and overwhelmed by straights and their offspring. Every time we got on or off an elevator (Grandmother sits in her wheelchair for these outings), we were barraged by at least one multi-person family, and often two or three, each with vast and complicated-looking stroller/pram combinations and a passel of brats swarming around their feet. As we made our way down the mall concourse, to or from or in or out of a shop, we had to wait for these vast families to pass like the Crimson Tide. And those who were just couples, rather than whole families, were just as irritating in their seeming inability to move from place to place unless maintaining full-body contact at all times. But mostly, it was the absolute oceans of children and the vastness of families that caused my ire.



See, this is one of those things that your average straight person doesn't grasp: there are too many people in the world already, so fer chrissakes stop making more! If you suggest to a straight couple that it is perhaps irresponsible on a global level to have any children, much less three or more, they will just look at you blankly, as if you had suddenly started speaking Chaldean. If you go so far as to suggest that the child they have is one too many, they will actually get angry at you. Billions are spent developing and purchasing fertility drugs so that everyone can do their part to overpopulate the world to a crisis level that might just destroy the species altogether. Apparently, every straight person has the right, if not the sacred duty, to pollute the planet with another generation of offspring, as many as possible.



I know, of course, that there are many gays and lesbians who wish to (and often do) reproduce biologically. And there are many straights who have no desire to raise children. But by and large, straights take for granted the idea that they will produce offspring, the concept of not reproducing is a minority whim, while gays have to actually address it as an intellectual question. And to someone for whom the very idea of reproduction is vile (like me), someone who doesn't particularly like children and has no urge whatever to see his rather questionable DNA passed on to yet another generation, this taking-for-granted seems bizarre, inexplicable, and wildly irritating.



Please address hate-mail on this topic to Evil_Stupid_Cunt@mannersism.net.



After we got home from the mall, we turned right around and went next door to the housewarming party of our new neighbors... whom we shall call "Tate and Kristin" (for Tate Donovan and Kristin Davis, who the new neighbors closely resemble). The turnover of real estate in my neighborhood has been amazing the last few years, and there are in fact four sets of new neighbors in the twelve houses on my street this year alone. We haven't met many of the new people (mostly young yuppie couples), but since Tate and Kristin are right next door (in fact their bedroom overlooks my bedroom, and my bedroom in turn overlooks their living room and patio), and we always have to know the people in that house, we were glad of the invitation.



Well, I should start off saying that they're very nice people, both of them. I spent a good deal of time talking with Tate, though not so much with Kristin... you could tell she is the Social One in their relationship, by the way that she talked to absolutely everyone present, briefly and with great hilarity, and then moved on to the next person or group to repeat the performance, while Tate tended to talk to one person for a while, or else busied himself with refreshing the drinks. He's in Finance (I swear to God, he pronounced the capital F), doing some incomprehensible thing in the Entertainment division of a Canadian bank. I think Kristin does something in Finance as well, judging from the comments of her friends, but I'm not sure. Whatever it is, they're doing something that affords them an $850k home in a desirable neighborhood. Need I mention that they are both younger than I? But that's the topic of a different rant.



However, even dismissing the hampering effect of having the Grandmother right at my elbow, I felt very uncomfortable and reserved at this gathering of apparently successful straight people (who were mostly younger than I). I heard myself talking about the most unbelievably banal things, like weather and traffic and home repairs and the other neighbors, much to my own chagrin. I only met four of their friends, who happened to wander into the living room where Grandmother and I were... they were women, and they talked only to Grandmother, discussing how long Grandmother has lived in our house and where she came from, and then where they came from and how they know Tate and Kristin. Inexpressibly dull, and there I stood with a little plate of cheese and crackers and a cup of soda, saying absolutely nothing at all, just nodding and chewing and standing.



Oh, and did I mention how many incredibly good-looking guys were there? Each with a girlfriend in tow? Each casually and irksomely proclaiming his straightness, despite the Prada shoes and cashmere sweaters and well-tended skin, with that strange aura of smugness that corporate-type straights tend to give off? Let's just say that I was glad to leave, and yet I will be keeping an eye on their patio, particularly in the summer months, whenever Tate and Kristin entertain.



Eventually we did manage to ooze out of the house and back to our own, where we sat down to watch TV... settling on what I believe is the straightest movie musical ever made, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers. I was actually repulsed by much of what went on in this film, its theme being exclusively devoted to mating (not really love or romance or relationships, but plain old down-home Mating). Okay, some of the brothers were pretty damned hot (and the Barn Raising Dance was fairly exciting), and one of the brides was the überfabulous Julie Newmar... but with sappy music and sappy themes and all that mountainous countryside and all the barnyard shenanigans, with nary a sequin or rhinestone in sight, it was very simply disgusting. It made me want to bathe in epsom salts. After that was a John Wayne movie, McClintock, and that was even straighter... so I went to bed early and read a book for the rest of the night.



So anyway, that's what my Saturday was like. I was going to write about it all on Sunday, but my wrist, though better, was still bothering me... so I decided to stay off the mouse and keyboard for another day. I'm glad I did, because now my wrist feels just fine. Plus, it gave me some time to go shopping, and I bought something I've been wanting for a long, long time... and I will write about that tomorrow or the next day, or whenever. In the meantime, I am going to wash the taste of Straight out of my mouth with a lot of online porn (most of those models are straight, though), a bit of video camp (either Priscilla or Pink Narcissus... or hell, why not both?), and a nice healthy dose of Ethan Mordden (I think Buddies would be the best choice).



In the meantime, I apologize to my straight readers and heterosexual friends who may have been offended by the above rant. I will try and grow and become a better person. It's what I expect of others, so I must try doubly hard to be more understanding and tolerant of people who are unlike myself.

Notes & Observations

No Limp Wrists

Here's an amusing little quirk in my physiology that has plagued me this week: I was born left-handed, but taught to write and draw with my right hand... as a result, though all of my agility is in my right hand, all of my strength is in my left (plus, I can't tell right from left without thinking about it). And as a result of that, my right wrist suffers a little from Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, for which I occasionally must wear an elaborate-looking and rather sinister (that's a pun... get it?) wrist-brace.



However, unlike many CTS sufferers, my condition isn't caused by the keyboard... it's from writing by hand. Last week at the big meeting (the one where I wanted to eviscerate people, you remember), I was taking notes furiously as I usually do at these meetings, trying to keep up with the chatter and discussion and motions made with overlapping banality, so that JB can compare them to her own notes and draft the meeting minutes. Anyway, whenever I have to write by hand, especially if I have to write fast, my wrist tends to become aggravated.



Normally this isn't enough of an aggravation to require the wrist-brace; however, if I spend the rest of the day playing computer games with a lot of mousing action, and/or if I sleep with my wrist at an odd angle (as I did the night after the meeting, getting my hand tangled under the pillow), the situation deteriorates immediately into CTS-like symptoms.



And then I have to wear this idiotic brace, and I can't wear any bracelets, and I can't operate a mouse properly, and I can't type (so I have to take off the brace to blog), and I can't get my hand into my pocket to retrieve keys or money; and then people ask me what I did to my wrist, then they ask if I've been typing a lot lately (I suppose people must think that I am like other people), and I have to explain that I suffer because of handwriting rather than typing, that I did irreperable damage to myself in college (especially the Late Medieval History course I had to drop because the teacher stuffed far too much information into each lecture and I couldn't keep up with my note-taking), all because I never learned shorthand.



Then people feel obliged to opine about how this brace might be affecting my sex-life, and I have to explain that I use my left hand for that sort of thing (it's stronger, you know, and grip is an important factor), as well as for picking up objects and opening doors and cutting steaks. If I had to wear a brace on my left hand, I would go stark raving mad in a matter of hours.



On top of all that, I can't let my hand flop and hang and curl in its natural effeminate manner, and I just don't know how to walk or talk with rigid wrists. Poor me!

Blog Shots

East/West is finally back among us, having undergone a serious facelift... no longer a mere blog, it is now a Web Magazine! Welcome back, Philo & Choire, I missed you ever so much! Bill at Mermaniac, on the other hand, is sadly sporadic as he now spends all his time pounding Latin into the brains of little girls. I can't wait until Winter Break, when both Bill and my beloved Miss Daisy will be released from their toils in Academe! And I miss hearing from Amanda, though I imagine she's terribly busy, too, with a baby on the hip and another on the way... and a husband. On an overseas military installation, no less.



You may have noticed that I've added a couple of daily-visit blogs in my sidebar, Karen's and Kristin's, as my network of reads expands as I meet new people; I'm thinking about adding Walt and Aaron, too, on the recommendations of so many others, but I haven't made up my mind yet if I want to check on them every day. I mean, I use that sidebar as a portal to my daily reads (instead of keeping them in my "Favorites," so I can access them from any computer), as well as to recommend them to visitors.



I've always enjoyed reading Jhames, and even more so of late with his stories and such, and I wildly admire his ability to churn out so much text in so little time (he must have the literary equivalent of perfect pitch, because I know he can't possibly spend as much time proofreading and fixing as I do, or he wouldn't be able to work his job and walk his dog). I have to wonder, though, where all these people come from who criticize and attack him for his words (sparking fabulously cathartic rants)... I guess that's the price of high web-traffic, but I just don't understand criticizing people on their own blogs... offer a contrary opinion, if you have one worth sharing; say how you feel when you read something if you think your correspondent will learn from it; but you never attack people just because they think differently from yourself (if I did that, I'd never have time to write my own blog, much less eat or sleep or pee).



Before you ever write or communicate a negative word to anyone, you must ponder what effect you wish to achieve with your communitcation; then you have to ponder how likely the desired effect actually is, compared to how likely undesired effects might be; finally, you have to question your own authority in saying such a thing... Ye who are without sin may cast the first stone. Bottom line, if you don't like it, just don't read it!

Book Bin

Speaking of which, I just finished reading Anne Rice's latest opus, Blackwood Farm. I highly recommend it... it was a great read, I enjoyed every word and syllable! The plot was intriguing, the characters sympathetic as well as interesting, and there was even a twist at the end which I had not expected at all! Granted, it does contain a few of Mrs. Rice's more annoying habits, such as giving her characters a favorite twelve-dollar word that they over-use (much like real people, which I suppose lends verisimilitude, but it's still irritating), and her lack of comprehension of the physical urges of young males, and her getting very caught up in tying her two originally-separate Chronicles (the Vampires and the Mayfair Witches) into a single knot. But in general I enjoyed the hell out of the book and hope that this marks a new trend for Rice (whose last few books, like Violin and Vittorio and Merrick and Blood and Gold... in fact, everything since my favorite The Tale of the Body Thief, were a trifle disappointing, to say the least).



I'm now poised to dive into Jane Austen's Persuasion. It's been absolute eons since I've read Austen, since college in fact, which is a shame since she's one of my favorites. I have been reading Stephanie Barron's excellent "Jane Austen Mysteries," which get me mixed up regarding which things in my memory come from these or which come from Austen's own fiction, so I think I'd better refresh myself. It's funny, I don't think I've touched a real piece of classic literature in the last four years, having been almost exclusively fascinated with mystery fiction and other more popular genres... I really need to remedy that.

Movies? Movies?

I can't wait to see the new Harry Potter movie, The Chamber of Secrets, which opens nationwide today. I mean I can and will wait until later next week to actually see it (preferably at a midweek 10 pm showing that will be devoid of children and dating morons), but I am nevertheless very excited about it. And then, soon after, then next "Lord of the Rings" installment, The Two Towers, will be amongst us! Oooh, I can hardly wait! I bought The Fellowship of the Ring on VHS a couple of weeks ago, and got my lovejones for Legolas and Frodo back on track, so I'll be ready and slathering for the release in December.



But, correct me if I'm wrong, has this Autumn been the worst wasteland of bad cinema ever? Last weekend we were looking for a movie to see, and there was absolutely nothing that any of us wanted to watch... well, some of us wanted to see Bowling for Columbine, but others had already seen it. The Ring sounded stupid, none of us were about to plunk down good money to see Adam Sandler or Eminem in anything, and I point-blank refuse to see another romantic comedy as long as I live. And the only movies coming out that I do want to see are serial installments. Nothing on the horizon looks good, either. The Oscars this year are going to be pretty dismal if this crap keeps up.



Oh, well... I've weathered dull movie seasons before, I can do it again. I would just rather not have to.

Good Night, Gracie

That's all I can think of right now. Back into the salt-mines with me!

Seulement

I've been struggling about writing on this topic that is bothering me... aside from it being a difficult topic to discuss, it glancingly involves friends who I know read this blog. But I figure they're my friends, they'll understand, and I need to get this off my chest.



A couple of weeks ago, I had this "minipiphany," one of those little moments of clarity where you realize that something's been bugging you and you can now identify what it is. It's kind of like when you finally notice something is missing or added to your surroundings after a long while of wondering why things don't seem quite right. I have these minipiphanies all the time, being a rather scatterbrained individual. Like the time I was sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee one morning and I suddenly realized my pet finch Alexander was no longer chirping... he'd been dead for several days, and I hadn't noticed, though something about the kitchen had seemed somehow wrong. Or the time that Grandmother and I were driving up the main road to our house, a road we've traveled several times a day for years and years, and we suddenly noticed that there were new stop signs at the intersections; and when we asked our neighbor if she'd noticed them, too, she told us they'd been there for over six months.



Anyway, to return to the point, I had this minipiphany a couple of weeks ago when I realized that for the first time in a long, long time, I was without a Social Escort Friend. I have always had a friend who worked less than I did and who was socially presentable and who was usually available for social occasions. In most of my 20s, it was Kevin, except when Kevin was in a relationship. Then it was Shiloh. And now Shiloh is in a new relationship, and he is no longer available to me as an escort. I went to a party alone for the first time in sober memory, though it didn't strike me at the time why I felt so strange at that party (I mean, I knew almost everyone there, so it wasn't like I was alone alone, I just arrived and left alone). It felt wrong, and it felt lonely.



More than that, for the first time in a long time I don't have a Special Friend, someone in whom I am romantically interested. Again, I'd always had Kevin, and then I had Shiloh, to fill this particular slot in my life. There were others, as well... Billy and Todd and Jason and Dalton (in that order), people I pursued as friends even though (or because) I was romantically attracted to them. For the first time in a long, long time, I am not in love or lust or even intrigue with any particular person. And it feels kind of empty.



Well, this minipiphany didn't count as a real epiphany because I didn't think much about it. I just had an "Oh, how interesting" kind of moment and I moved on. But this last weekend something happened that brought this to the foreground of my consciousness, where it has been jumping up and down and screaming and otherwise calling undue attention to itself.



On Saturday, I made plans to hang out with my two best male friends... it started off as intending to spend an evening with Dalton, and then I invited Shiloh along, neither of whom I have seen very often in the last couple of months. Along with these two, one automatically includes their boyfriends, Dean and Zach respectively, who I also like very much and am always happy to have as companions for an evening. This is not the problem... the problem is that both of these relationships are new, in the rosy honeymoon stages, where the participants in the relationship find it difficult to keep their hands off each other and impossible to go more than five minutes without gazing at each other with dire smiles and kissy little endearments. Again, this behavior in and of itself isn't problematic... it was the way this behavior made me feel: that is, intensely lonely. Excluded, even.



It took me back to high school, where by stint of my shyness and Other sexuality I was the only single in a vast circle of couples. I remember once going to the movies with a group of friends, which by happenstance was comprised of my best friend of the time, Eva, her boyfriend of the time, and two newly-conjoined boy-girl couples. The couples of course, being hot-hormoned teenagers with fresh physical discoveries to explore, spent most of the afternoon making out with each-other wherever we happened to be, while I was completely alone in this group. And it was one of the most miserable afternoons of my life.



Then there were the parties that we always had, one whole summer there was a party at someone's house every weekend, and everybody but me (and I do not exaggerate) was dancing with a Special Someone and making out in the dark corners with that Special Someone when they weren't dancing. And there would be me alone, talking to one of my many girl friends (when she wasn't dancing with or making out with her Special Someone) or dancing or eating and what-have-you with them, while everyone else was getting their groove on and romancing eachother and making stupid plans for the future. And from this I was excluded and alone and it made me miserable.



So miserable, in fact, that I started dating a girl, just to be included. I mean, I knew I was gay, and she knew I was gay, and everyone in the world (except my Grandmother with her amazing powers of denial) knew I was gay... but I was so tired of being excluded from the Hetero Mating Dance that I allowed friendly flirtations with Eva (who was between boyfriends at the time) to turn into a Publicly Recognized Relationship. We made out at parties, we made out on group hikes in the parks, we sat together and danced together and went to the Prom together. This went on for about a year, I think. And what ended it was that Eva wanted to take our relationship to the next physical level, and I wasn't able to do so... and it also occurred to me (as I was running scared from her house the afternoon she went for my fly) that I was being terribly unfair to her, keeping her in a sterile social coupledom rather than letting her roam and be free to explore with a nice straight boy who would appreciate her physical charms (which were many).



It was after this that I focussed solely and intently on boys as romantic objects, but again I was miserably unsuccessful. I wanted to be part of a couple, and they boys I knew and found attractive only wanted sex and exploration. But eventually I met someone who seemed interested in a Relationship, and on that rather flimsy pretext I built my life around him. He was an awful person, a mean soul with a tiny penis and a nasal voice, but I moved in with him and defended his arrogance to my friends and basically tried to make a life with him, just because he would allow me to so do. That only lasted a few months, but when you're 20 a few months is long enough. I finally broke up with him because 1 all of my friends and several of my enemies loathed him violently, 2 he didn't have any furniture in his apartment (he'd had to move out of the place we lived together, since the roommates whose house it was hated him) and 3 he hung up on me when I refused to argue with him (nobody hangs up on me and gets away with it). He thought it was because he'd cheated on me, but really the only thing about that was that he'd managed to sleep with someone I found very attractive and I was a trifle jealous.



Throughout the rest of my 20s, and partway into my 30s, it was my deepest desire to have a boyfriend, not for the sex or the love, but rather for the social aspects. And when I discovered that this was the case (I'd thought it was for sex and love and affection), I made a decision to remain single for the foreseeable future. I still believe that this was the right decision, for how can I build a relationship with a man when all I want is someone to dote on and trot out to parties? I don't even want to have sex with anybody right now... I just want a man on my arm, someone with whom to hold hands and make kissy faces and (this is key) to prove my worth as a person in society.



And I was fine with this. I have come to understand, during this period of purposed celibacy, that some people aren't emotionally capable of carrying on a romantic relationship, and I was one of those people. I don't know if it's something that I am going to have to accept as permanent, or if it's something I will eventually grow out of, but I feel that either way I cannot pursue romance at this stage in my life. I mean, aside from my sexual hangups (which are many), there is my Grandmother-dominated lifestyle. I don't have the time to give to a man, much less the attention or even the sleeping accommodations. For me to maintain a romantic relationship, I would have to learn to be much more giving, both emotionally and sexually; and on the other side of the equation, to bother with rocking the boat of my life, the man has to be pretty damned special... and someone that special deserves more than I right now have to give, with my trust issues and my physical touch issues and my many other issues.



So logic dictates that this period of my life is one of growth and of learning to be alone with myself. And I thought I was doing a pretty good job of it until I was walking along with two couples who can't keep their paws off of each other. Like I said, I know these people read this blog, so I want to stress that it is not the public displays of affection in general that bother me, and I do not want anybody to change their behavior for me.



I guess the thing is that I discovered, from the intensity and suddenness of that isolated and excluded feeling, that perhaps I haven't grown as much as I'd thought and hoped I had. That wholeness of person that I wish to become, before I can offer myself to another, is still over the horizon. And in the meantime I feel a little lonely, a little sad, and a little horny too. I want something in my life to feel passionate about, a person or a thing or anything. I miss having passion... and the bracelets and books and sweaters aren't quite enough to make me feel passion. And I miss having single friends with whom to hang out. The only people I spend time with alone are Grandmother and Caroline. And as much fun as I have with them, it's not the same as gay male friends.



So my Seventh Year Change... is this it? Is it learning to be alone? Or is it learning that I am not meant to be alone? I don't know. But I'm glad I got to talk about it, get it off my chest. Now I absolutely must dash, I have to get all the way to Pleasanton, in rush hour traffic, to get my computer repaired at the Gateway Store. I hope they can fix it right away. I'd hate to have to return the damned thing, I really do like it despite my disappointment over its not working.



Thanks again for listening! Big smooshy hugs!