The weakness of the “I Am Not Immoral” video campaign is its hell-bent insistence into being included in the state’s present notion of morality. Remember, this is a heterocentric state which condones corruption, rape and murder. The last thing we should be doing is to associate ourselves with it.
The LGBT sector should instead be fighting to expand our society’s notions of morality and push it behind the dominant Church position.
Let it also be said that members and supporters of the LGBT sector are not immune from discriminating among and within themselves. We must refrain from overly promoting ourselves as blameless “moral” individuals, when in fact, we are very much capable of perpetuating patriarchy and contributing to its machinations.
What is moral? What does morality have to do with it, anyway? In the struggle for political representation and visibility, the question is not whether one is moral or not. Even if a person was immoral, that does not strip one of his basic human rights. And isn’t the fight for gender equality essentially a fight for human rights?
What we should be doing is asserting a broader, more inclusive, and dare I say, more moral kind of morality, one that focuses on the dismantling of discrimination against race or gender, on the dismantling of the class system–the system which most heavily oppresses and discriminates against people, straight or not. #
I had a fairly successful blog a few months back, and I measure success is SMALL increments, I had a few hundred readers a day and I was happy but then some bad stuff started happening and it continued to happen and now I am sitting in the bowel explosion that is my life. I’ll tell you all about it eventually it just pains me and upsets me to even type it when I am sipping a venti white chocolate mocha in Boston….I don’t want to scare my fellow Starbuckians.
I do live in Boston, I love it here, I was born and raised in New York, Brooklyn to be exact, and at a time when Brooklyn was not such a bad place, it was more of a family centered neighborhood…so now you know I’m old……………honestly I don’t consider 46 old and I’m a gym rat, a vegetarian and can drink my body weight in beer! I do love to brag about my beer consumption capabilities…it’s genetic…seriously.
The reason I started this new blog was to do a little venting about my current situation and also maybe to help and connect with other people going through the same thing. The ’same thing’ being major career upheaval, your world falling out from under you, your sense of security being shattered..yeah it’s going to be upbeat….actually I find my sense of humor to be one of the things not affected by this shit sammie of a situation and it helps alot, so there’s alot of humor here, alot of music and photos of weird stuff I find like this
It’s an diapered infant made of meat, that’s another thing, I tend to go on and on about health issues, nutrition and the new obese American..it just aint healthy people…so I leave this first post with a song, it became my theme song right before I was illegally laid off, trust me it was illegal
Figure skater Johnny Weir, shown in Vancouver on Thursday, refuses to state his sexual orientation. Like we really need him to, but still…
Some French-language Canadian broadcasters are under fire for having teased gender-bending American figure skater Johnny Weir on air.
Among other things, the two French male broadcasters (named Claude and Alain; I don’t know if it’s ”The Claude & Alain Show” or not, but it would appear as though some things, like ignorant, juvenile white male radio hosts, are cross-cultural) suggested that Weir should go through gender testing, like South African track star Caster Semenya, who indeed possesses the XY (male) chromosomes although he/she was competing against biological (XX-chromosomal) women.
(As I noted at the time that that story broke, if Caster truly considers him- or herself to be a female, then I am fine with that, as I am happy to go along with any other individual’s own gender identity, and as I love gender-bending, but a biological male should not be allowed to compete athletically against biological females, as it is unfair to those biological females who do not possess the same biological athletic advantage.)
Although I haven’t been between his legs, I have precious little doubt that Johnny Weir is a biological male who is attracted, predominantly or exclusively, to members of his own sex.
Not that there is anything wrong with that.
I, too, am attracted predominantly to members of my own sex.
But I’m open about it.
Weir, however, despite the fact that Helen Fucking Keller could tell that he’s a poof, won’t say.
This is how Weir has responded to the question as to whether or not he is a flamer on ice:
“I don’t feel the need to express my sexual being because it’s not part of my sport and it’s private. I can sleep with whomever I choose and it doesn’t affect what I’m doing on the ice, so speculation is speculation.”
Bullshit.
One’s sexual orientation and gender identity are a huge part of him- or herself, as are one’s race and one’s biological gender — and one’s age, for that matter. One’s sexual orientation, like these other demographics, has profound affects on his or her social interactions.
Therefore, we cannot neatly compartmentalize our sexual orientation, as Weir apparently attempts to do, stating that his sexuality off the ice has no bearing whatsoever upon what he does upon the ice.
The fuck that his sexuality has no bearing upon his sport. Look at the news photos above, for fuck’s sake, and then ponder his claim, “I don’t feel the need to express my sexual being because it’s not part of my sport and it’s private.” He’s not expressing his sexual being in those photos? He keeps his sexual being strictly private?
Right…
Except that Johnny Weir doesn’t exist in a vacuum, but is a member of a social species, and so while he apparently would like all discussion of his sexual orientation to stop, it isn’t going to.
And, of course, by refusing to publicly claim a team, so to speak, Weir is only keeping the speculation alive.
Is that what he wants to do, though? Keep the speculation alive?
One wonders.
Regardless of his motives — whether he is too ashamed of being gay to come out (you only want to keep something “private” if you are ashamed of it, it seems to me*) or whether he likes the attention that making people “speculate” about the obvious gets him — Weir does a disservice to all gay men and lesbians and other non-heterosexuals and other non-gender-conforming individuals by refusing to just come out and say what everyone knows anyway.
I have no problem with the way that Weir dresses or acts. It’s his right to be who he wants to be. I’m not one of these gay men who is going to bash Weir or any other effeminate gay man because I, a non-effeminate (or so I’m told, anyway) gay man, doesn’t want to be associated with effeminate gay men. (Nor do I distance myself from the leather crowd or any other segment of the gay community that the wingnuts bash, because fuck the wingnuts! They crow about freedom and liberty, but those motherfucking fascists want freedom and liberty only for those who march in lockstep with them.)
But I resent the fact that Johnny Weir refuses to claim his own tribe.
Many members of his tribe have even died fighting for his right to be who he is, and by refusing to acknowledge his tribe, he spits, shits and pisses on the faces of those who have been far, far braver than is he.
*Any actual sexual acts that Weir practices in private are indeed his own business, but his overall sexual orientation, in my book, is not. And again, to claim that one’s sexual orientation is “private” means that one is ashamed of his or her sexual orientation. It cannot mean anything else.
Today I looked at Yesterday’s Chronicle front page and saw an article titled “ECSU takes pride in new facility”. I thought, “Oh, I go to Eastern, I’m surprised I hadn’t heard about a new facility,” but then I read the sub-heading: “School opens resource room for gay and lesbian students.” This ticked me off, and I became more and more enraged as I heard the liberal spin the article was written with, as well as with the pandering from the University President Elsa Nunez (Side Note: if you feel like bombarding her office with outrage, you should be able to email her at: nuneze@easternct.edu) to the “LGBT community” with politically correct drivel.
I’m a White, Christian, Male, Evangelical, Homeschooled, Conservative, Pro-Life, Pro-Marriage, Heterosexual. I don’t participate in a perverted lifestyle as do gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered individuals (Note: I don’t use the term “perverted” as an insult or an expletive. By definition these lifestyles are perverted, as they are altering what bodies are intended to do naturally, or perverting the sexual functions with which the body is equipped.). However, it looks like I, a normal and upstanding heterosexual male, can’t have “pride.” Why just LGBT pride? If I said there should be a “Heterosexual Pride Room” I’d be immediately titled a homophobic bigot and possibly be put on academic suspensions for hateful language. A friend of mine on campus noticed something similar last semester. Chalk drawings, sanctioned by the University, were all over campus of stick figures with titles above the people. The titles were: Proud Gay, Proud Lesbian, Straight. So I can’t be a “Proud Straight?” Oh, we can’t have that – that’s bigoted and anti-unity. BULL! These so-called “anti-discrimination” and “tolerance” movements are promoting discrimination and intolerance towards other individuals.
Equal Rights! That’s what everyone spouts! “Equal Rights for Blacks!” “Equal Rights for Latinos!” “Equal Rights for Women!” “Equal Rights for Queers!” “Equal Rights for Transgendered!” Well here and now I’m going to take a stand that no one has the gumption to do: “EQUAL RIGHTS FOR HUMANS!” I disagree with homosexuality profusely as well as the whole concept of mutilating one’s own body to add or take away sexual organs, but I’m not going to promote that we ban gays from learning at a university, or ban transgendered individuals from applying to a university. Why can’t we take pride in being people who are blessed by God with inalienable rights?! Why can’t we take pride in the freedom we have as people, and the freedom we have in this nation to disagree? Why do we have to discriminate against people based on their race, religion, creed, sexual orientation, quality of life, and gender (and by these I’m referring to the politically correct discrimination against people who are: Caucasian or Asian, Christian or Jewish, Conservative or Libertarian, Straight, the unborn, and Male [or pro-life Females])??!!
At Eastern Connecticut State University, a publicly funded school, we have a “Women’s Center”, an “Intercultural Center”, and now a “Pride Room” for Gays and Lesbians. Why don’t we have a “Men’s Center”, an “American Center”, a “Pride Room” for Straights? They would either laugh or say “that’s sexist,” “that’s racist”, “that’s ethno-centric,” that’s bigoted,” “that’s homophobic.” Hey Liberals, what about “tolerance”?! I have a better idea – why don’t we let every facility be open to all students? I’m not talking about programs. I’m not talking about student clubs, run by students. I’m talking about decisions made by the higher-ups at the University about how to use student funds without the consent or input from the students.
Moreover, I’m enraged that this was kept under wraps. This, and the time when conservative speaker Star Parker came to speak, are the only 2 times on campus where I’ve seen there be a lack of publicity and media coverage beforehand…hmmm, I wonder why.
Recently at CPAC, conservative activist Ryan Sorba condemned CPAC for allowing GOPride, a homosexual republican organization, to be a sponsor. I agree with him, but at least with CPAC it is a privately funded conference where individuals can choose whether or not to support or attend the event. How much more should people be outraged when our tax dollars are spent to promote public policy agendas in our publicly funded Universities? My money and your money should be used toward education, not discriminatory policies in places which are Constitutional mandated to be non-discriminatory. I say “Eastern Connecticut State University, shame on you! Shame on you for not giving students and tax payers prior notification! Shame on you for misappropriating Student and Taxpayer funds to promote a liberal, immoral, non-educational agenda! Shame on you for brainwashing students that having standards and disagreeing with politically correct lines of thought is evil and prejudiced! Shame on you Elsa Nunez for using one act of violence against an individual, in 1998, in Wyoming, as an excuse to embezzle funds from the tax payers to make you feel warm inside! We don’t deserve this treatment, and believe me, we won’t stand for it any longer!”
Please believe me when I say I’m not homophobic, racist, intolerant, bigoted or hateful. I just believe in Freedom and Liberty. I’m against discrimination by the government using public funds. I’m for the freedom of debate and the liberty to disagree and even discriminate privately based on personal convictions. I’m trying to expose a double standard that my university has set up, and which in general, the majority of publicly funded organizations have.
I love all people, because as a Christian, I’m commanded by God to love my neighbor as I love myself. That doesn’t mean I have to agree with all people. True love doesn’t take a back seat. True love isn’t doing what makes others feel good at the expense of what’s wrong. It’s not loving to buy a smoker cigarettes, because even though it makes them feel good, it is killing them. I won’t forsake my convictions to make people feel good, because in the long run, I believe it will be damaging to the people I love — physically, spiritually, mentally — and damaging to the rest of society.
“Here I stand, I can do no other, God help me, Amen!” – Martin Luther
So we were sitting there talking about comparative essays (which I despise btw! To structured!) when she pulls out this small book. Everyone in the room is silent, except for the girl across from me who’s wide grin shouted, “just yuuu wait….” I really don’t care for that girl, every time she speaks I think of Louanne from King of the Hill but a bit more brusque. “Hay Yall’aint’gnna’ elive wut happund’ to mey todaye” …yea
“I know everyone is stressing over turning in your first essay.” my teacher said. “I know its hard to pour your heart into something and then let everyone judge something you have put all of yourself into”. We all nodded in agreement, I grinned my nervous grin. “So here’s what I am gonna’ do,” she says “I will read you a story I wrote from 1982″.
Don’t get me wrong I expected the writing to be phenomenal but what I heard next floored me. Her story was so emotionally charged that you could see her hands shaking as she read it. I could feel the rhythm in her voice change with each tear that wanted to well in her courageous eyes. Her voice trembled as her words became shallow, raspy breaths. Not to mention the spacial atmosphere of the room, some students fluttered upon an emotion of embarrassment, some nervous, and others felt relative.
No doubt it took courage to tell her story. Just as it had taken courage for Johnny E. to tell his story last semester, the ending of the Fall term in Public Speaking he came out of the closet to the entire class. “I am an athlete,” he said “A runner, An uncle, A brother….I am Johnny and I AM a gay man.” I will never forget his speech. The entire atmosphere in the room changed within seconds, some people felt angry and deceived whereas some such as I, felt proud.
Now I suppose at this time you must be wondering if I am gay or bisexual and my answer is no, I am not. I have no desire for women, however, I do support human rights. Some people ask me, “Why do you befriend them? Why do you defend these people?” Well, there is a story behind my reasoning.
Lets roll back the time-line to eleven years ago, 1999. I was twelve years old getting ready to enter middle school. For most of my childhood I had been obese, I wore thick nerdy glasses colored in blue framing with pink sparkles. My hair was styled by my sisters IE: permed and curled under…everywhere. I would have had more luck with a mullet or a rat’s tail. With that being said I was a class-A loser, being picked on daily, made fun of and getting beat up were nothing new. Around the fifth grade I got smarter, I tried to change my look. Of course, my family was poor so I couldn’t do much other than hit up my best friend’s closet for old black t-shirts. My attitude began to change a small bit, I started conning the teacher’s for money so that I could eat that day. After a while I made a promise to myself that I would lose weight and use that money to make myself a pretty girl, I didn’t want food anymore. I just wanted the mean girls to stop.
So, the summer of my fifth grade year, June 1999, I got a twelve speed bicycle from my sister. Everyday from sun up until dusk I would ride. I would trudge through wooded areas and wonder around in the lush green of mother nature. Sometimes I would explore the other neighborhoods, successfully angering a pair of Rottweilers at least twice a week as I sped by them. I became addicted, everyday I needed a new hill to ride down, another fix of adrenaline.
One day I decided to conquer the largest hill in the whole area. I took a deep breath, giving myself a mental pep talk.
“you scared?” I heard a patronizing voice from behind me.
“Do what?” I craned my neck around angrily.
“Oh its not THAT bad” said a dark curly-headed girl who housed the voice that irritated me so much.
“I know that!” I yelped. She laughed.
“C’mon, lets go I’ll show ya somethin’. I’m Brandy by the way.” She reached for my hand and shook it grimly.
“Ashley,” I nodded.
She led me across the other side of the neighborhood where another hill was located. Anxious to get my next fix I jumped on my bike, ready to take the hill over like a pile of conquering ants. We both sped down, racing, laughing, and eventually crashing. Brandy was a unique character, she was very tall and liked to carry her bike on one shoulder, rather than walk it, up the hills. She studied karate and loved to draw. For the rest of the summer we rode around, played in the creeks, and battled it out with her endless pog collection.
“I think I’ll draw this pog” I told her.
“to late,” she said, “I already did”. Such was a day with my new best friend Brandy.
Eventually the summer weeks came to an end and we both started our new schools. She was now in the ninth grade, me the sixth. One day after school we decided to go for a walk in a sad attempt to enjoy the last evenings of sunny weather.
“I need to show you something” she said to me suddenly looking ashamed. “whats wrong?” I asked her. Here, just take this” she shoved a letter in my direction and turned her back to me. I sat on the back ally roadside underneath a small tree as I opened the letter. I skimmed the words which glistened in pink ink, searching for something that made sense to me; occasionally glancing over at Brandy to see her face drawn in an even deeper frown. “Are you sick or something?” I asked beginning to get worried.
“Well sort of, just keep reading” she turned further away. After mulling over her note I realized it was a ‘crush’ letter. “So who is he?” I asked with excitement.
“Well…..he’s not a HE” she replied slowly.
“oh” was all I could say. “well then that means….” struggling to put the idea together.
“yea he’s a HER”.
“Umm..what?” I laughed at her “that’s impossible, are you a boy?” I asked bewildered.
“No”, she gave me a long look taking the note back. “Its you” she said as she studied the pebbles under her shoe. “you are the first person I have told…… I am gay, I like you and I am scared”.
My face turned blood-red and my skinned burned, I wanted to cry. I truly felt sick; perverse even. Brandy turned, looking up at me, her eyes were still as mud. She leaned in toward me, ready to make her move. I had never really understood the idea of gayness at that age, much less been asked out by another girl but what I did next still shames me to this day.
“No!No!No!No!” I screamed, “What the fuck?! This is just freakin’ weird man! Oh my god!”
I jumped to my feet and took off running as brandy paced slowly behind me. Tears began to fall down my stinging cheeks as I remembered that my CD’s and poggs were still at Brandy’s house. Brandy knew this, so she kept her distance behind me, silently ripping up her letter of hope. Fowl words escaped my mouth as I ran faster, reaching her front steps, sprinting past her mom and dashing to her bedroom to get my cd’s and pogs. Brandy lingered in the doorway, hunched over holding her stomach. “I cant handle this shit” was all I could say in a cold snarky tone, as I nudged past the girl who was ready to fall to her knees. I ran home shaking.
The next day came and went and as each week rolled on I felt more and more disgusted with myself. I hated myself for speaking to her that way. Aside from her preferences brandy had been a good friend to me and god knows she’s couldn’t help how she felt. My mother explained homosexuality to me and then told me of several other people on our block who were also gay. People I had known for years. I fought the urge to see them in a different light. I struggled with my conscience but I knew I could not tell Brandy that I was sorry. I could not face her. I was afraid to, what if she made another move on me? I couldn’t handle that again no matter how guilty I felt.
Years flew by and before I knew it I was entering the 9th grade just as Brandy had been that summer so long ago. One night at the mall I was sitting on a bench with some friends. One girl in particular, named April, sat beside me. “Wait until you meet my girlfriend”, she said excitedly.
“I cant wait”, I told her. “She better be good to ya”, I nudged her arm jokingly. Ever since that summer with Brandy I had sworn to treat gay people the same as straight people, I swore I would never be as cold to another gay person as I had been to brandy. No one deserved that, she didn’t deserve that.
Then there she stood, as April got up and ran to her side. “Brandy?” the sickness in my stomach returned as I realized what I had to do. “Ohmygod,” she said covering her mouth and turning to sprint in the opposite direction. “No hey, hang on” I started after her. This time it was her who sprinted away as I walked patiently behind her. “This isn’t necessary” I told her. she ran on. I silently followed.
Finally, stopping in a private corner of the mall she turned to me. Crying and laughing hysterically, nervous. “I’m sorry Brandy” I said getting straight to the point.
“I cant believe this” she said. “YOU are friends with my girlfriend??” I nodded. I knew she was shocked by the idea. “I’m sorry” I repeated, “I didn’t mean to be that way, I was young, naive. I’m ashamed of that.” Brandy smiled, as if she had waited three grueling years to hear me say those words. We spoke for a moment, catching up and making small talk. As the conversation ended we shook hands just as we had on the first day we met and then we walked in opposite directions, she got her closure, I got mine, another bad memory mended.
After that, I began sticking up for gays and lesbians, I had seen her struggle. I had been apart of it. I understood the pain and embarrassment that they had to go through and I respected their courage. I proceeded to make more gay friends and I accepted them when others didn’t want too, being put through the whole “Are you gay too?” routine by family because of my tolerance for them. I was even kicked out of church for defending human/gay rights. Although in today’s world, gays are not treated as harshly as they once were, they still have it rough sometimes. However, I am not ashamed, nor embarrassed to say I support gay rights, they are people, they have souls, they have hearts, but most of all, they have courage where others do not. How could we not respect that? Ask yourself, could you stand up in front of thirty strangers that you have to see twice a week and tell them your sexual preference? Most gay’s have no choice, that takes strength, how could we not admire that?
Capitals? Oh god, it Needs capitals. Now a fortnight of blowing her off and possibly inviting her to a squat party and not showing up finally culminated in some edging guilt. Mountain climbing girl Thursday.
Quick perks:
Soft Soft Skin (excessive alliteration intended)
Athletic
Long pains:
Annoying in that British Bratish kind of way (” “)
ONLY likes folk. Come on now, there is only so much Noah and the Wale before death ensues. Jesus (and everyone knows Jeffrey Lewis reins supreme)
Is ridiculously tidy
I did it again. She was even a good kisser. But after two hours of mental foreplay on her roof, I found myself trying my hardest to fall asleep so I wouldn’t have to either walk home or apologise. Gross.
I felt her hand going for my too-new-a-haircut. Me – excited. Her – too excited. I knew she wouldn’t be great. Considered pulling out my “To drunk To cum” crude card (it’s a top trump, level 7 on all). No? Fall asleep it is. Now I have that congested feeling inside like a drunk Christian Bale Batman Voice.
We hear about it everyday, we face it constantly in this world of sex-crazed animals. Because we are exactly that, fiend animals on a long journeyed prowl. We want to fuck and suck and experiment our lives away, but how do we balance all of it?
And how do we non-single people deal with the harsh subject of fidelity that is regularly lingering the bedside. And can we really blame one gender for cheating more than the other? Is it honestly fair to say that men (although their prestige history) are accountable for more mishaps in the marriage than women.
Trust me, I have heard my fare share of unnamed ms. someones sneaking out their homes to meet the nearby neighbor that lacks in a job and dignity. But then again, just today I heard two guys talking about what “ranking” he named the girl, yet he walks right up to his girlfriend which undoubtedly is flaunting away her white-gold engagement ring.
For some reason girls tend to keep things more discreetly, (whether it is a smart idea or not) guys tend to get “caught” a lot easier, but let me not confuse you, girls and guys EQUALLY cheat. Like masturbation, girls do it too, and girls do it a lot with toys and lube, yet, we females tend to keep it much more on the low.
I sincerely say sorry to those men who have to deal with so much from their suspicious wives and girlfriends. Because in this large crowd of sex maniacs are those rare loyal men that don’t cheat. These are the guys that have to deal with mistakes that the husband down the street made. This stereotype that men are cheating whores is widely misunderstood. Men are the cheaters that get caught, girls are the cheaters that make the word discreet seem like an understatement.
Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the third season of VH1’s Tool Academy!
What happens when you add a “toolette” (skank) with a group of “tools?” VH1 is here to answer your inquiry. Oh but wait that’s not the only twist this season. In addition to having one “toolette” there’s another female “tool” competing for the crown. However, she’s a lesbian! VH1 you’ve really extended yourself this time.
For those who don’t know Tool Academy is a social experiment that attempts to turn douche bag boyfriends (and now girlfriends) into respectable companions for their mates.
This show has reaffirmed my decision to start giving relationship advice. I’ve come to the conclusion that everyone around me is no longer satisfied by being alone and seeks the companionship of others. I have been in a loving, committed relationship for the past four years. Therefore I believe it’s time to put television into practical use and give relationship advice based on faux pas I watch on a daily basis.
It is important to realize that this is only advice drawn from my first hand experience. Not everything I have to say may be applicable to your relationship/dating life. It is important for you to understand yourself/limits in order to asses the accuracy of this information. I do honestly believe that if you follow a few of these tips, you might start to see a change in your relationships/dating life. These are only my opinions. Here goes:
Advice #1: If he/she cheated on you, LEAVE THEM! Clearly there is a lack of respect and I have yet to see a relationship survive that. Sex should be sacred and should serve to bond two people (I mean this mostly to people in committed relationships). If your partner should stray from that bond, you need to leave them!
Oh and the famous, “I was drunk” excuse. It’s just that, AN EXCUSE! It should not serve to alleviate the disrespect or degradation.
You deserve better and shouldn’t settle for anything less! You deserve someone who respects you. You deserve to be loved. Do not settle for someone who cannot respect and love you.
Here we are, well into the New Year ready to uncover, explore and experience more LACE after an admittedly neglectful period on my part. Neglectful in posting but not in action. I finally made it to a “SPICE NYC” event several weeks ago for Nikki Hill’s (with SPICE NYC and The Lesbian Mafia) 30th Birthday at Club SPiN—Susan Sarandon’s new 13,000 square foot table tennis nightclub on Park Ave— In short, as my memory of the occasion is less than morning after sharp, the party took place in SPiN’s VIP lounge, which was an ideal venue, providing a large enough space for 200 or so ladies to dance but small enough to make it cozy and give the VIP room a club like feel of it’s own. The DJ, who I wish I remembered the name of, was right on, mixing old school and new school with crowd pleasing danceable beats, a very much needed and very much appreciated skill! The ladies were of a different type than I’m accustomed to seeing out at my usual Brooklyn hipster dance party; dresses, makeup and heels galore- don’t get me wrong the butch-femme dynamic was still very prevalent, but it certainly didn’t overwhelm or make me feel boxed into any particular role. The party and clientele are very much what they say they are:
A promotional company that caters to the socially mobile, vibrant, women of New York City. Our main objective is to provide a safe place for women to socialize and network in a fun, friendly, no pressure environment where you can also admire your surroundings.
The scene was refreshing and reminiscent of my week in LA in the fall, but it still very much felt like home. Dancing till 3am, table tennis, live marching-esque band, sexy ladies, good music and good times had all around!
He dreamed of you. He dreamed of you last night or this morning. You were there, hiding in a room just off the main restaurant-bar place. No real place, except in memory, in imagination and in places of sound or silence. For that most brief of minutes they were hiding as they always did, away from everyone. He searched through the few moments of privacy, where women and men or women and women or men and men go to touch, to smile, to whisper, to share and to be alive. In those most and precious moments of time touch and heartbeats, he was never a lonely soul in a dying world. You were his life for just those quiet heartbeats.
Her face and form dance within his dream. Tiny freckles, lips to laugh, eyes to dance and ears to hear the music of words and silence. Underneath a table and cloth they pressed together knee-to-knee for a short while and then you parted from his dream…of explanations of nothing but life and why and gain and lost and oh…he thought that you had died and visited on your way home just to let him know that they were still…
Sleeping on a sailing ship, he saw her gown as the morning sun poured (if the morning sun can pour through anything) into a window and filled the doorway-sunside framing her body as the opaque texture of her clothing changed because of the light, into a thin and transparent breeze across the shadow of her curves and her beauty and…never before had she become more naked or more clothed than she became on that morning.
Friends and caskets and funerals without flowers. The lines of mourners are shorter. What is left are folk circles talking and laughing and…Caskets usually look the same except for the little ones. These caskets are always too small and too heavy and hard to carry. A physical impossiblity? This depends on the casket bearers and their knowledge of the little one. Inside those tiny boxes is a sorrow so; unexpected, unrequited, unresolved and not replaceable as the sorrow is unnatural. But here, inside the October City, the pressure of the cooker is a great and steaming beast as real as puppies in May and the death of a baby. It hurts and the parent so miss the child that is no longer with her.
However, puppy grows into dog and kittens no longer are interested in chasing streaks of yellow ribbons. Instead, they rest beneath the bright and benevolent sun, warm of bone and slowed with age. They live and they pass by naturally. They come into this world, into this cycle, into pleasure and into pain.
The mother cries against his shoulder and his shirt is damp because of her endless supply of grieving tears. She is phantom. He fears that on this long walk down this even longer aisle, he may let her fall. He has done this before. The long walking aisle. Of this he is positive. There is memories of other mothers and widows and fathers and of old men, well not so many of them anymore, but just a few. He has never drop any of these of insane sorrow and frightening tears. Grief and grief and more grief and Gods hears their tears and understands their insane sorrow.
No falling because they lean against one another for balance or weakness, or sorrow, or memory, and for love.
Now! He walks with her down a carpeted aisle. It is an aisle-covered almost knee-deep in flowers that cannot be correct. They are too sweet a perfume to be real and they grow from metal stands and glass vases that are plastic and cheap and fragile. Memory is a rattling frail movie without projector but still inside their minds. He has helped a few survivors through a shattered hour of loss, of incredible loss, a baby loss, a sacred loss and savaged proof that loss has always been what it is suppose to be. It never disappoints those suffering the curses of death and sacred loss.
He is positive that he has never dropped anyone. Yes! Their precious sorrows and gently leaning into one another and following his lead down the worn carpet and toward the words and tears that ends a dream and begins another and well-oiled reality.
Ok so heres a breakdown of how sex works based on the mind of a rediculously straight man.
Key:
Guy = 1 Sexual organs
Girl = 2 Sexual Organs
Guy + Girl = Good
So Good must equal 3
(Good = 3)
We know 2 x Guy = 2 Incompatible sexual organs.
So 2 must equal Bad (Apparently)
(Bad = 2)
But Masturbation is always Good no matter what gender, so Good must also equal 1 since you are alone.
(Good = 1) <—-Stop concentraiting on the faces this is serious sex maths!
So based on this, the scale goes up by number 1 2 3 as Good Bad Good etc.
So I’m assuming any odd numbers are Good and any equal numbers are Bad
So lets work this out…
Guy (1) + Girl (2) = Good (3)
Makes sense…
Guy (1) + Guy (1) = Bad (2)
Still makes sense…
Guy + Girl + Guy = Bad
Girl + Guy = Good
Girl + Guy + Girl = Good
So far so good.
Now, considdering the average straight man gets off on the sight of 2 girls getting off with eachother, this is where it starts to get a bit weird.
Girl + Girl apparently equals Good to a straight man, unless it suddently involves a cup.
But look at this…
2 + 2 = 4 (Bad) so logically Girl + Girl = Bad which to a straight mans brain would make sense since thats Gay and since they get off on this Homosexual behaviour, Homosexuality obviously isnt a bad thing is it.
But I know what your thinking, this doesnt make sense because guys are naturally attracted to girls and the more girls the better… That’s a Lesbian sex orgy which is still gay. I’m sure we fought for something called Equal Rights at some point in history.
So if girls are allowed to be gay why can’t men?
Besides, girls think its cute.
Is the LGBTQ(ABCDEFG?) vocal minority about to fracture over the “right” to “marry”? Kate Bornstein, who is a confusing mix of the alphabet soup of sexual orientation being pushed upon the youth of today, and who claims to speak for gender-confused kids her culture has produced, writes an open letter to the leaders pushing for “marriage” equality.
Kate Bornstein’s Blog for Teens, Freaks and Other Outlaws: Open Letter to LGBT Leaders Who Are Pushing Marriage Equality
Notably:
Lesbian and gay leaders must cease being self-obssessed and take into account the very real damage that’s perpetrated on people who are more than simply lesbian women and/or gay men, more than bisexual or transgender even. Assuming a good-hearted but misplaced motivation for all the work done on behalf of fighting for marriage equality, it’s time to stop fighting on that front as a first priority of the LGBTQetc movement. It’s time to do some triage and base our priorities on a) who needs the most help and b) what battlefront will bring us the most allies.
Also, from the comments, get a little peek into what people in these “communities” think about our Constitution…you know, the one that gives them the freedom to act and speak out like they do? Something about “musty old document[s] written by dead men” and “Marriage is a license to have sex in a way that’s considered not a sin” and “the terms ‘ma’” and ‘woman’ have no real legal definition” a bunch of other incoherent, psychologically messed up nonsense.
One comment that should give the rest of America good reason to take heart that we are not losing the battle for the sanctity of marriage, yet also gives us even more reason to remain vigilant, said (my own comments interjected):
Cowards and bullies pick fights with people who are reluctant to fight [like homosexuals did with Christians, who legislatively turned the other cheek in the fight against sexual perversion from the 1960s until the early 1990s]. That is why conservatives picked the marriage fight [what?]–because it wasn’t our focus and we remained reluctant to fight them on it. Be against the marriage fight all you want, that’s the reason conservatives picked it–it’s our weak spot where we’re not united [true, polls show most homosexuals don't really care about getting married in any traditional, monogamous sense of the term]. They know it and we know it.
And every issue we fight they will fight us by saying “It will lead to gay marriage!” [and...what else could it lead to?] Even anti-bullying measures for schools they argue “It will lead to gay marriage!” There’s no way around it.
What they really mean of course is “gay sex” [there are medical and epidemiological reasons to inhibit this practice...even homosexuals admit this]. Marriage is a license to have sex in a way that’s considered not a sin. [again, I say, what?] Once gays can get married, gay sex can’t be considered a sin in of itself. And when that happens [like they need or even want marriage to do this? non-sequitur], well, there will be little justification for discriminating against gay or transgender people [gays have equal domestic rights with heteros, including the right to bennies through nearly all employers and the right to contract with one another for hospital visitation these days...yet they always fail to enumerate the "rights" that have been denied, other than to redefine marriage completely, which isn't a "right"].
They hate us for our non-heteronormative, non-gender conforming sexuality [no, not hate, just rejection of the lifestyle choice as one conducive to stable society]. And marriage is the ultimate symbol of heteronormativity. [no argument there]
And when I get married, it won’t be to conform to it, but to change it. Marriage is our Trojan horse.
Marriage is their Trojan horse, is it? Fine, let them think their battle is won. That would collectively equate us, the defenders of marriage, to the priest Laocoön, who guessed the plot and tried to warn the Trojans but was strangled by Poseidon’s two sea serpents. It also puts us in the role of Cassandra, warning the people of impending destruction of our civilization if we don’t act decisively, as the majority, to define marriage at the Constitutional level once and for all.
Those sea serpents are more than two in our day. They are legion, with names like Hollywood, GLSEN, GLAAD, the NEA, and NAMBLA to name a few. They are ready to strike at every vector we leave unguarded. Fortify yourself against the propaganda by becoming educated. Then, fortify your immediate family, your friends, your neighbors, your schools, and your communities. Fight back against falsehood with truth.
I came out to the world as a lesbian in 1976, when I was 16 years old. Had come out to parents and family at five but since I wasn’t all that sexually active before my mid-teens it never really came up.
Back in those days, baby lesbians didn’t really have alot of choice as to gender identification. The only way to get to be around girls in any real, interpersonal way, was thru sports. And certainly it was the only way to get to see them naked. Locker room time was what I was in it for. There was a sort of requirement to be a “tomboy”. To throw and hit various balls in various ways. The better one was at it the more gay one seemed to be.
Frankly, I suck at sporty stuff. But back then it was the only option. So I joined teams. I played softball and golf and rugby and basketball. Well, if one could call me running around trying to not get hit by people or missles really “playing”. But it got me action and so I adapted.
I was fast. As long as I was a le to avoid tripping on my feet my coaches always found a way to use me. Stealing bases and so forth. Hated it.
I went to college in a southern state, where the rules were very different. One could be of three primary camps and you had to decide what you “were” from the get-go. There was Butch (do-er, fix cars, etc). Femme (do-ee, cook and clean the house). And something called ki-ki, where you got to be both a do-er and a do-ee. Which was what I knew and so.
Unfortunately most Southern lesbians of that time despised ki-ki women. You might as well be (gasp! The horror!) bisexual. They didn’t know what to do with it.
Most of the students were from Northern states so the general butchy thing applied. Four more years of sports. However, I found Crew, which is a really tough sport, and built a body like Mortal sin. Which is never a bad thing. And at least no balls or javelins or other projectories were involved so I was pretty safe.
I have been arrested for holding my girlfriend’s hands in public. I have marched in Chicago’s early Pride parades and gotten arrested there, too. I am living breathing example of the history of our poor battered fight for equal rights in America.
As time has marched inexorably forward I have slowly divested myself of my butchy little past. I suppose I am a lipstick lesbian although the times now are such that I no longer even need that label. I live a fairly traditional lifestyle with my butch wife. I’m a do-ee for the most part (except for my birthday and Christmas and when wifey wants to really spoil me for some reason). I am an animal psychologist but it’s really a part-time job to keep me busy. I am definitely the caretaker in my household.
I was recently accused of no being a feminist by a well-intentioned but totally wrong acquaintance. Apparently my French nails are just too much for the woman. Apparently I am supposed to be some amalgamation of male and female, that metrosexual thing that’s so popular nowadays.
Feminism is all about rights to be what one is. It’s about being politically involved in the so basic right to reproductive freedom. It’s abou raising awareness of the plight of women and children in this country. It’s about fighting the held belief that we are somehow inferior to men. In a nutshell, feminism is about fighting all of the subtle and not-so-subtle expressions of misogny that is rampant in our culture.
When I was a kid I didn’t get to clearly express my sexuality. And now, all these years later, after all the inner turmoil I have been thru in finding out who and what I am, I am not about to change. I am a woman who shops at Victoria’s Secret. I do not “look it”. And I do not have to.
Danya Simkus completes her 3-part piece, Bi-lingual or Bi-sexual?
Continued from part 2
It’s just that this bi-sexual bent – the sexuality you actually engage in privately aside – this ability to easily write from either sex is a great gift; and one I’m forever squashing so that I don’t offend my readers – I’ll reach for a metaphor, and one is staring me in the face, and I Dont’ Use It, because I know that it will likely put off someone trying to read my work – I’m a liberal gal – I say what I mean and mean what I say – but here, I am careful – too damn careful for my own comfort. I sacrifice my own words and desire for the sake of propriety. Not something I’d easily admit to if I hadn’t just been smacked in the face with it. I’ll write these for myself, and keep them in my own files, but when it comes to submission, I shy away.
I therefore encourage you, reader, to let your freak flag fly (if you are legitimately able) and do what I so often silence myself from doing – write from both sides of the box – crawl into the skin of the opposite sex; of the opposite sexuality – (again, only if you can) If you can’t – if it is even a little bit hard for you – give up. The world is too full already of books by people trying to ’stretch it’. Lesbians can write their own books and do not need Ned Fred to try to get into their minds (and bed sheets) to do it for them. But if you have this special knack – this unique ability to genuinely abandon your own prescribed sexuality (or even better, use your sexuality if it is malieable) to make writing that is unique, fresh and exciting; by all means, please do so.
If enough of you do; perhaps I will someday soon, find the courage to do it myself.
Danya Simkus is an excellent writer and a good friend.
Her novel, Botanica Toxica is nearing completion.
From the Empty Space Theater in Bakersfield comes a weekend chock-full of performances. First up is Super Villian!
The world mourns the death of Earth’s greatest super hero, Excelsior… but no one is more upset than The Remote, the super villain that spent his life fighting Excelsior, but was not the one to kill him. Without a super hero to fight, The Remote is no longer seen as a super villain, just a fool in a silly costume. With help from his friends, The Remote must pull himself up from rock bottom if he is ever to be known as a super villain again.
Winner of 8 awards and rave reviews, James Kopp’s comic book comedy, Super Villain, swings back to The Empty Space with new scenes for one encore weekend, running for two nights only, Feb. 5th & 6th at 8 PM. For reservations call 661-327-PLAYAdmission is free, with a suggested donation of $15 for adults, $10 for students/seniors.
Also playing this weekend is the Rocky Horror Picture Show:
Rocky Horror Picture Show – February 5 & 6
doors open at 11 PM the lips sing at Midnight
Come give yourself over to absolute pleasure! The Velvet Darkness will be performing The Rocky Horror Picture Show Friday and Saturday February 5th and 6th. Doors open at 11:00, preshow games are at 11:30, and the lips sing at Midnight. Call 327-PLAY to make your reservations now.
Eight minutes, that’s how long it takes for my straight neighbor couple to have sex. I’m not sitting with a stopwatch, it’s just…eight minutes. I can’t help overhearing them making love in our old apartment building. If the noise bugs me, I know that it will be all over in…eight minutes.
Eight minutes! As a dyke I don’t mean to brag about the sex that I have, I’m not trying to judge. It’s only that if our sex ended in eight minutes, I would clomp out the door in my clogs, never to return. That’s why I don’t covet my neighbors’ sex.
My neighbors resemble the ‘Love Is’ cartoon couple. She has hair down to her ass, which I find nasty. Maybe that’s why their lovemaking is short, because the hair gets in the way. If I were her I would put it up in a bun before slipping into bed. “Don’t worry honey, my hair won’t bother us tonight.”
My lesbian training tunes me into the woman’s pleasure: Does she like this? Does she want to climax, and if so, what will get her there. Maybe that is why lesbian sex tends to last longer, we hang in there and do whatever it takes to trip the sometimes elusive female orgasm. Nothing wrong with a “quickie” — now and then.
It’s clear that their sex ends when –boom — the husband has his orgasm, or his erection ends. H does not try to satisfy his wife after he cums. How Old World is that, ending the sex as soon as the husband spurts. Afterward, he probably rolls over and goes to sleep.
So I naturally listen for the wife’s response upstairs. I could be out in left field, but to me it sounds like she’s faking it. If she is faking her orgasm, that means that she isn’t cumming, at least not during sex with her husband. And that would be a shame. In 2010 no woman anywhere should feel the need to fake an orgasm for Pete’s sake.
In the lesbian world it is not uncommon to make love for hours, even 24 hour lovemaking is not unheard of. For me, eight minutes is sad. I wonder at the state of their marriage with such a dried-up love life. How many other straight couples suffer from the same malady? Ultimately though, I don’t care because I’m plugged into the good sex juice.
Love Is…Sapphic
Content Is Copyright to the Author, All Rights Reserved.
Peter Sprigg, a spokesman for the Family Research Council ranks pretty high on the batshit crazy scale. He’s said that gay people shouldn’t be allowed near children and that we should just deport all the homos because they’re “destructive to society”. So of course what’s left to do but up the ante on the homophobia scale?
Mr. Sprigg not only repeated the same old tired arguments (they’ll ruin unit cohesion, homosexual conduct violates the uniform code of military justice etc.) but also decided to say he believed that sodomy laws should be reinstated and that gays shouldn’t even be allowed in the military AT ALL. Watch:
Actions towards ending the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy in the armed forces has begun. Apparently, Joint Chiefs boss believes that gays and lesbians should be allowed to serve their country openly. The policy has not been strictly enforced for a good part since the war started. This is evidenced by the decline in the number of servicemen discharged for their sexual orientation. You can read the full story here. To begin with, I think the policy is unfair and wrong. There are people out there on the other side of this war who are willing to blow themselves up for their beliefs and we are worried about a soldier’s sexual orientation. Since when does being gay or being a lesbian have anything to do with taking up arms for one’s country? I think that if a citizen wants to go out there and be shot at for his country, they should be able to do so. Soldiers should not have to worry about being busted for being or gay or lesbian while they are out there on mission, they have their lives and the lives of their fellow countrymen to worry about.
The Central Valley Stonewall Democratic Club (CVSDC) is honored to announce that national LGBT activist and Iraq veteran Anthony Woods will deliver the keynote address at their annual Carnival fundraiser. In 2008, Woods’s life was changed forever when he refused to live a life of lies and was discharged from the U.S. military. Mr. Woods impressed media pundits and the political elite with his East Bay ’08 congressional campaign, inspiring a grassroots movement that motivated the online, progressive, and youth communities. While former Attorney General and Central Valley native John Garamendi won the election, Woods continues to advocate in support of a rational policy towards gays serving in the military and common-sense civil rights equality.
Locally, Renée Hall of Stockton is one of many local residents discharged and denied the right to defend her homeland. “To serve and protect our nation is a great honor and a responsibility that I took very seriously. It’s unfortunate that some of militaries best men and women are denied the right to serve.” In a 2009 interview, Mr. Woods concurred, “We’re a country fighting two wars, having trouble recruiting, yet we want to turn away some of our most talented, most well-trained soldiers?”
CVSDC President Martina Virrey shares, “2010 is a year of discussion for the Central Valley and the LGBT community. We need to better understand why 67 percent of voters in Stanislaus County and 65 percent of voters in San Joaquin County voted against civil rights equality [Proposition 8, 2008]. At the same time, we need to remind family, friends, and neighbors that we don’t exist to deny or fight religious or cultural beliefs; we are simply asking not to be treated as second-class U.S. citizens.”
Date: Saturday, February 6, 2010
Time: 6:00 p.m. – 10:00 p.m.
Location: Bertha Knowles Auditorium, University Park
City/Town: Stockton, CA
Cost: $35 per person
To RSVP or purchase tickets for Carnival 2010, visit www.cvstonewall.org or call (209) 973-9038.
CHEATING.
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_c.png?x-id=21a2fe35-c1fb-4ff9-b292-6fa9bdd40411)
The world mourns the death of Earth’s greatest super hero, Excelsior… but no one is more upset than The Remote, the super villain that spent his life fighting Excelsior, but was not the one to kill him. Without a super hero to fight, The Remote is no longer seen as a super villain, just a fool in a silly costume. With help from his friends, The Remote must pull himself up from rock bottom if he is ever to be known as a super villain again.
Eight minutes, that’s how long it takes for my straight neighbor couple to have sex. I’m not sitting with a stopwatch, it’s just…eight minutes. I can’t help overhearing them making love in our old apartment building. If the noise bugs me, I know that it will be all over in…eight minutes.