REPORT A PROBLEM
And so, it's September, a busy month of birthdays for my family. My late bro-in-law's was on the second, my sister's son in the third, my late father's was the sixth and my brother's son's is the eleventh. My own is September twelvth. If I last eleven more days, I'll be
Why it seems such a miracle that I've lasted this long is that I survived a bad case of Hepititus B and prostate/anal cancer. The Hepititus was in 1965 and the cancer was diagnosed and removed in 1993. Years later, my oncologist revealed survival hadn't been expected.
Litzputz was an average man. He'd gone to average schools and earned average grades, took an average woman to wife and had an average career as an average accountant in an average brokerage firm. He belonged, peripherally, to the Moose, a little less to a non-denominational church and a little more to his local Republican Party Organization.
This morning, after thousands of usually average nights of sleep in his average bed, he woke to find himself naked. lying next to a naked man, and he didn't remember
. However, he realized, with both excitation and fear, life wasn't average, anymore.
If I love nine more days, I will have reached the age at which my father died. I grant you this is not a mantra I should be reciting, but it
fueling my efforts to gather all my poetry and incidental writings into one space. That space is the blog (
) I started on
a month or so, ago.
I'm not afraid of dying, per se, but I am worried, suddenly, that I'll pass before I get the task done. I've got fifty years of journals to mine. I should've started this project when I was nearer sixty.
There is a story making the rounds of the gay newspapers about a young boy in South Carolina bullied into suicide by his teacher. His
. Reports are that teacher is still working at the school. There is
report, I've read, that mentions the situation being investigated by the school. To make matters worse, I've not not seen the story being reported by the general news outlets, who'll report turtles farting as a matter of interest.
We are living in a time when the major social organizations, newspapers included, are failing the people they should serve. They serve
man is a hairy chested, darker skin Latino, or Black, top with some natural (pumped up body builder types need not apply) meat on him. He's not
, but a little comfortable flab, here and there, is fine. He's content, relaxed, with the way his body looks.
dream lover is a slender, blue-eyed, blond, definitely a highly sexually responsive Nordic bottom who loves the physical (touches, hugs, cuddles, kisses, etc.)
The dark/light, top/bottom has always been a turn-on for me. I long to
trust, to finally surrender, to someone strong, sure, loving.
Re-reading yesterday's posting: Do I share too much, too personally, when I write about myself, minus the camouflage of fiction?
It's not that I'm
of anything I share, but I grew in a family where everything was secret, on a need to know basis. I was pushing sixty when I discovered I'd been born a near bastard. I understand that bastardy was a more sensitive issue, yesterday, but I can't help resenting that something explaining so much about the way I was treated, was hidden. How many years of anguish and self-doubt would I have been spared, had I
My clock radio alarm woke me, yesterday, to the news that there are new graveyard amenities being offered. You can elect to have music piped into your coffin underground. twenty-four hours a day. I started laughing immediately, and laughed until I was hiccuping. I can't remember when I last woke to laughter.
Normally, I'm critical of items like this being reported as
, especially if they are reported on an outlet such as
. There are enough things going on in this world that bear watching, without wasting time reporting stupidities . But
what it used to be.
100 words. They're not many, really, but there are days when they just won't come in any intelligible order, try though you might.
There is one trick I sometimes use. I open a book to a random page, put my finger blindly on the page and use the sentence my finger lands on as a starting sentence. Another version is to pick a random sentence heard in conversation and develop something from that. Oddly, that works less well for me than the first option; I don't know why.
Today's useful technique seems to be stream of consciousness, but
My dad was a licensed mortician; my mother owned the building which held the funeral parlor and rented it to him (a tax thing). Her brother, Maurice, was a professional hit man for the local "family" (something I did not know until his conviction, last year) and my father's uncle sold life insurance. You might say death was the family business. I like to joke that when I had sleep-overs at my house, we had sleep-
, but the truth is, I never had a sleep-over. I was lucky to have a
. Kids thought what my dad did, was creepy.
So far, we've been hit with two blackouts, today. The first lasted about ten minutes. We are in process of our second as I write this. I've had to move out into the sunlit patio so I could scribble today's words.
out here commenting on the situation. If I didn't need the light, I'd be elsewhere, just so as not to have to listen to the babble. Is it the heat that brings out the idiot in most of the people here, or does cooler weather help me ignore that they are true, genetic, idiots?
Just a couple of side notes: There is no good and/or evil in the natural order of things. There is only being and non-being (non-caps intended). Good and evil are concepts that arise out of consciousness. of awareness of self. The more conscious of self one is, the more the idea of good and evil takes shape within the consciousness. Thus, what is evil, what is good, has no finite description.
The fact of having a blog (my opinion) is not antithetical to spirituality. Rather it can be a tool in the process of discovery.
Remember, ego is consciousness.
And so I'm seventy-one, today, almost three quarter's of a century old. I feel like I should have something profound to say, but I'm coming up empty.
I am a little tickled, however about a remark made regarding a comment I left on someones blog. "
Are you a preacher or a science teacher? Cause sounds like you've got everything figured out.
" What a wonderful way to suggest that I'm a know-it-all. I am rather
when making a point, but truth is, I live with wondering about the meaning of things, how, why, every day of my life.
Traveled outside Balmoral, for pleasure, for the first time in a year. Last year, at this time, I was in hospital. A friend and I took the Foster bus to Clark in search of The Brown Elephant, a second hand store widely touted;it deserves the praise. It's huge and they have interesting items, including jewelry and electronics. I went looking, but not seriously, for a cd player and ended up buying only a hat and a couple of books, but I intend on going back every now and then. We finished the trip with brunch at Hamburger Mary's. Tasty.
"...straight people fighting for the LGBT... impress governments much more than gays"
As it stands, I agree, but only so far as to agree that straight people fighting for our cause adds pressure to governments to change those laws detrimental to our existence as equal members of society. This in no way excuses gay people from our responsibility to begin, and provide soul, the change.
Change only happens when the majority understands its effects. Changes happen only when majorities have their consciousness raised. Our job is to raise the consciousness.
That's why we
to hit the streets!
I've just read an excruciatingly painful parody of the Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys books. For those who may wonder who these characters are, they were the protagonists in a series of children, young adult adventures that began, for the boys in 1927 and for the girls about 1930. They were packaged by the publisher and had many different authors using pseudonyms. As I remember, my sister read Nancy. I read two or three of the Hardy Boys series, as a youngster, and found them not to my taste.
A Ghost in the Closet
, even as a Lesbian romance, aesthetically sucks.
If there should be a god, I can't believe he would be the hateful, vengeful, narcissistic god the Pat Robertsons of the world would have him be. I know I can't even
that kind of god, let alone
All through the Hebrew Scriptures, to which fundamentalists seem more attuned to than the Jesus they preach, we see a deity ordering his adherents to slaughter everybody who isn't. You'd think he could do it with less mess, but no, he wants accessories to do the dirty work. This is a god whose first three instructions is worship
"There are no answers in the universe, at least not final ones, except, perhaps, death; the jury's still out, on that one."
She looked up at him as he was speaking, noticing the wild hairs that here and there rebelled against his perfect coiffure. She longed to take a brush and make it obey, but she knew it wouldn't.
believe?" That was Myra, pretending she actually cared what he thought. She was just stalling, waiting for the bell. Five minutes later, out in the hall, she will have forgotten what he was saying, as she always did
On the way back my sister's car, after brunch, Sunday, I passed a young boy, about ten, dawdling after his mother. Out of the blue, I flashed back on myself at that age, and with a certainty I can't begin to explain, I
that young boy was gay. I found myself praying to whatever that he would have an easier time coming to an understanding and appreciation of himself than my generation of young boys did.
He will have the blessing of places in which he'll find support, and I thank the great whatever for that. May he prosper.
Pope Francis, with his message of lessening Judgment and increasing Mercy as the
focus of the Church as Pastor, must be causing no small consternation among Curial arch-conservatives. These are, of course, the
people who protected child molesters, within the clergy, for decades.
Pope Francis has his work cut out for him. He not only has the Curia with whom to contend, but many an American archbishop has made their bones viciously attacking women's reproductive and gay equality advocates while desperately trying to hide assets so as to prevent having to pay large damages in child molestation cases.
Speaking of Pope Francis' message of less Judgment of sinners and sin and more Mercy and Love as the virtues upon which the Church should be focusing, I am wondering at the relative silence regarding this teaching among African Catholics in Africa.
Politically, Africa is ripe with homophobia, Uganda being the most, if not only, savage minded in their persecution of their gay and lesbian population. Ironically, based on what little I know of African traditions regarding same-sex personalities Africa's current homophobia is not natural, but imported from Western and Muslim colonizations. Isn't that a great legacy of
I know that I have said this before, but I
to keep repeating it again and again so that each new ear I encounter hears the
of it. The Right-wing rant that Liberals are the country's problem, is and always has been, a lie perpetrated by those who would keep all Power and Wealth to as exclusive a few as possible. The truth is, it has always been Liberals, in any field, that have won progress. If the founding fathers had listened to the Conservatives of
time, we'd still be British
God Save the Queen
Arrived back from the hospital at 4:30 in the afternoon, yesterday. This is the third year in a row I've gone in around this time, with the same complaint (although last year's stay had the added pleasure of having a pacemaker installed). It seems I have a susceptibility to stomach (and urinal system) viruses that cause intensive attacks of vomiting and diarrhea. I asked my doctor what I can do to avoid this, his reply was, that living in the closed society that I do (nursing home) avoiding contact with any virus is always going to be problematic.
Each time I choose, or happen, on somebody Else's blog, I marvel at how "dressed" many are. Here and there, a few seem overly so, too busy, as if blank spaces touched some point of paranoia within. There are also a few that, after perusing the content, I think, "
all dressed up and no place to go
", but maybe that's just me being a bitch. My own blog is so bare of adornment as to be nude. Not that I'm aiming at that. I just don't seem to have the knack to be more decorative. My
? Jeans and t-shirt.
Continuing a theme, all the amenities that today's proponents of Conservatism enjoy are
the result of Conservative philosophy. They are the fruits of
striving for economic and social equality for the largest group. Liberals supported, championed, labor unions; Liberals attempt to reign in deceitful, exclusionary, business tactics. Liberals are why so many, who never dreamed of higher education, have the chance at it.
It was Liberals who ended sweat-shops in this country. It is
who are struggling to ensure minority, women and gays included, rights.
age of this country, have vilified, voted,
There is an erroneous, I think, idea that mistakes should only be allowed the young. At some magic age, making mistakes is suddenly a
on the person making them. I know; I've made mistakes my whole adult life and have had them held up to me, not as lessons to be learned, but as badges against my character. It has sometimes taken every ounce of will not to surrender to the negativity at the core of the criticisms.
Worse, is that this attitude is a virus; Too often, I'm guilty this sin of negativity towards the errors of others.
Someone, in a group with whom I share, asked,
"Anyone else want to tackle why they feel like the odd one out sometimes?"
The thing that comes to mind, immediately, for me is, "As for being the odd one out- I've always been odd in the heterosexual world because I'm openly gay, and always
in the gay community because, so often, in certain circles, I'm just not gay
. I've never done popular trends just
I've been accused of being contrary just for contrariness' sake; I hope that's not true, but does one ever really, honestly, know?
Harry Potter and The Order of Phoenix
, last night, it suddenly occurred to me what a wonderful poster woman for the American Tea Partiers, the character Delores Umbridge is. She
a veneer of level-headed, Conservative, "patriotic" respectability. The veneer hides a bigoted and otherwise mean spirit whose only concern is itself. When necessary, she resorts to lies, cruelty and attempted murder, to achieve her goals. If not an actual acolyte of Voldemort, she is an example of attitudes that allow his evil to grow and flourish. Imelda Staunton gives an absolutely, makes you shiver, scene stealing performance.
"If he were on fire, I wouldn't spit on him."
Charlie Naed was pissed! A promise had been made, a loan made, and then the promise had been broken. Now he was short on the rent, plus a penalty.
The problem was Charlie was a mark and everybody who knew him, knew he was a mark. If
had been tattooed on his forehead, it wouldn't have increased the one-way traffic to abuse his generosity. Sad thing was, Mark
he was a mark. He wished he knew how not to be, but the word NO wasn't in his lexicon.
One of the enchanting things about the Harry Potter series is that a world of magic exists side by side with a world of non-magic, and thought the magical world is aware of that non-magical world, the non-magical world, by and large, is ignorant of the magical one. However, if you consider it, all kinds of other worlds co-exist, unseen in the same place and time, in in this country, and always have. Growing up, for example, a Black world existed, unseen by me, on the other side of the viaduct on 16th Street. I knew only that boundary existed.
.....and they all lived, happily, ever after.
As a kid, I loved reading these words closing the fantasy and folk tales I read compulsively. They were a promise of just reward for every trial and tribulation endured. They were a ray of hope, just ever ahead. I could hold out and traverse one more dark forest, suffer one more villainy. I was a grown man before I realized the closing line was the
fairy tale. For better or worse, often more worse than better, there are no "happy ever afters", just, maybe, tomorrows. That'll have to be enough.
The Tip Jar