Crazy

I watch shows like Cosmos about the immensity of time and space, and it makes me realize that we are flyspecks that exist for a nanosecond. Then I hear people claim that there's a god who created the entire universe who is keenly concerned about what we do with our genitalia, and I wonder if the human race is narcissistic and crazy.

Don't blame me.

I sometimes hear people who make less than $100,000 a year, sometimes far less, talk as if they think tax breaks for the rich and deregulation of corporations will somehow help them. They complain about how hard they work and how taxes are killing them. And they have been convinced that “lazy people”—by which they generally mean minorities, who they imagine are living like royalty on food stamps—are bleeding them dry. They think if it weren’t for these “lazy people,” they could afford to pay off their credit cards and buy boats, RVs and vacation homes.

I know they have been suckered by propaganda designed to play on their bigotry and irrational fears, and they are right to feel swindled. They see that there really isn’t any shortage of material wealth in this country, but they’re working harder and longer hours for less. However, how stupid do you have to be to believe that poor people who buy milk with a coupon are the ones sucking up all the wealth? How hard is it to go online and look up state and federal budgets to see where tax dollars are going? How hard is it to find out that corporations and billionaires are paying less a percentage of their income for taxes than working people? How hard is it to figure out deregulation will help the super rich and not ordinary Americans?

I’m on disability, and most months I don’t have enough money left over to buy a package of new underwear. And I am not lazy. I have health issues that probably would have killed many a long time ago. If you envy my imaginary cushy lifestyle while voting for politicians who will support policies that will eventually line the pockets of the 1% with even more cash, you are a fool.

That's not what a good person would do.

Evangelicals and fundamentalists put themselves on a pedestal, and I think many accept this without subjecting the idea to critical analysis. I think some accept it without even realizing they've accepted it. Even people who express great frustration and anger will sometimes tip their hats in some way that makes me think they believe these are good, godly people who are only doing what they think is best. But I don't think good, godly people set up multi million dollar machines that can produce hateful propaganda on a daily basis and spread it to millions of people. I think being humble and self-critical and being willing to listen to other viewpoints and being willing to consider things you might not be aware of is part of being a good person. People who think they already have all the answers are dangerous.

I remember watching a Bill Moyers interview of a minister who said that the devil often appears in drag. He didn't mean that literally. He wasn't that kind of minister. And when Moyers asked him to explain, he said that the greatest evil is often perpetrated by people who are cocksure they are right. And fundamentalists are cocksure they are right.

Happy to be gay...

I have never wanted to change my orientation. I realized I was gay at age 11. I was gay before then, of course, but I understood my feelings for what they were at that age. From that moment on, I greatly appreciated my attraction to my own sex. It made life brighter and more exciting.

I was so withdrawn as a kid that I didn’t really know how to open up about anything. Other people had opinions and talked about their experiences. They had hopes and dreams. They had things they were interested in. But I was so stuck in survival mode that I didn’t know who I was, and I actually worried that I might not be a complete person. I felt like an outsider, and after seeing Close Encounters, I actually dreamed of being taken away by kind and loving space aliens.

I think my attraction to boys pulled me back down to earth and got me interested in the real world. I think I started focusing on school with the intension of going away to college because I hoped I might find a more accepting environment one day and that I would some day get the chance to meet and have sex with other gay guys. My attraction to boys started to wake me up to myself.

I grew up in southern West Virginia in the late ’60s, ’70s and early ’80s, and in that time and in that place, you simply weren’t allowed to be gay. I didn’t meet a single out gay person while growing up. Not one. If you were LGBT in West Virginia at the time, you just had to keep your damn mouth shut about it, and I did. As I said, I enjoyed those homo feelings, but they were my secret. I guarded them as if my life depended on it, and in a sense, my life did depend on it. It was bad enough just to have people suspect, but if I had come out back then, I’m sure there would have been hell to pay.

I lived in fear, and I think that has permanently affected my mind, worn some kind of grove that I simply have to live with. I turn 50 this year, and I have PTSD and extreme social phobia. I went through years of psychotherapy, took mountains of prescription psychotropic medications and underwent electro shock, but I still have PTSD and extreme social phobia. I’m on disability. I’ve never driven a car. I’ve never had a boyfriend. I live alone. I don’t have any close friends who live nearby, and I hardly ever leave the house except to buy groceries and supplies.

...and the horse they rode in on.

It makes sense to me to talk to friends and family who are genuinely confused and misinformed about gender and sexuality. But I think there are some people who are so viciously bigoted that we do ourselves a disservice by appealing to them. That gives the impression that we need them. And I think some LGBT people actually do think we need them. I think some actually think that haters from groups like FOTF, AFA and FRC really are “God’s people” and that if they can’t be convinced that they’re wrong about us, then maybe we really are bad.

As for appealing to such groups for the sake of the kids… I think LGBT youth need to know that many adults do not buy the claim from the haters that they represent a god. I think they need to know that many of us believe that they do not have to respect all adults and that some adults are stupid and disgusting and that they have every right to give some adults the finger. Hey, kids, Focus on the Family doesn’t approve of you. Fuck them and the horse they rode in on.

The Wall

I believe that this nation is rooted in the promise of liberty, including religious liberty. I think we should all be free to decide for ourselves what we believe, and if a citizen decides that they have no faith and no reason to believe in anything spiritual or if they choose not to associate with any organized religion or claim to know any god that should be just as acceptable as participating in the most popular forms of religious expression. I believe the last thing this country needs are elected officials from the president on down thinking their official duties have anything to do with their religious beliefs or using their status as public officials as platforms to speak of or spread their religious beliefs. If I think I am in need of a priest or a minister, I will look one up. I do not need the president or a senator or any other elected official to tell me about their god any more than I would need a plumber to pray over my pipes.

Tinker's Damn

What the ancient biblical authors meant in those "clobber passages" is merely academic to me. Even if they did mean to condemn homosexual sex acts and romantic relationships across the board and absolutely, I wouldn't give a tinker's damn in regards to how I view the subject. What the hell did they know?

Fortune Cookies

I will accept wisdom and inspiration from any source...from fortune cookies and bathroom graffiti to the Upanishads. But I've decided that the best way for me to live my life is according to my own lights. Not that I have any special insight. I don't claim that. I might be dead wrong about all kinds of things. However, I think deferring to others, including scripture writers, is a way of trying to shrink from responsibility. But what you do is always going to be on you no matter if you were just following orders as you understand them or not.

Walking Wounded

For some reason, the film Born on the 4^th of July came to mind today, and I began thinking of how some of our stories are, in a way, similar. I saw the film for the first time when it came out 25 years ago. I was still pretty young, and I still had a major crush on Tom Cruise, so, of course, I was eager to see it. The film made a big impression on me. I had read a couple of books about Vietnam, saw some documentaries and heard interviews of people who were there. I was a baby when the war was raging, but it was still a regular topic of conversation when I got older. By my mid twenties, I had already come to the conclusion that the war had been a mistake and that a lot of people died unnecessarily because of it. I knew that it caused a great deal of tension and hostility in families, especially between the older generation who made policy and the young people who had to fight or had their friends, boyfriends and brothers put in harms way. The film made it all seem much more personal in some way. Maybe because I understood Ron Kovic’s relationship with his family and how he eventually came to reject many of the ideas and beliefs that had been taught to him as a child.

Like young Kovic, many of us accepted what our parents taught us. Some may have even become more extreme. Maybe others simply didn’t know how to reject beliefs that seemed so central to the culture in which we were raised.

But then something happened. Those beliefs we were told to never question came up against something so real we couldn’t ignore it. And maybe we got hurt in the process. Maybe some of us will never be the same.

After going through this life-changing event, many of us discovered that our families didn’t understand. Some of them didn’t even want to understand. And maybe we were hurt again when we realized that these people whom we had tried so hard to please weren’t willing to give us one single inch. We may have been willing to deny who we really were for their benefit, but when we just couldn’t pretend anymore, and we went to them and asked them to consider things from our perspective for once, the door was shut in our faces.

When we gave up or nearly gave up on our families, we went out into the world looking for some understanding and some empathy. And there we were told to get over it, to stop dwelling on the past and to stop bothering people with our complaints.

Some might think it’s a stretch to compare our situation to someone who was paralyzed in a war and saw a number of people killed, but this is the year I turn 50, and I still have PTDS and extreme social phobia. I live alone and hardly ever leave the house. I’ve never driven a car or had a boyfriend. My small income is just enough for me to get by, and I fear I will end up homeless. I know many LGBT people are homeless for a time, especially when they’re young. Many experience all sorts of mental health problems, and a high percentage of us have committed or tried to commit suicide. Many of us remember when gay men were dying in large numbers from a mysterious disease and no one of authority seemed to want to do anything about it. We have lived in a society that dumps a huge amount of hate on us, hate that we are told is godly and righteous. Sometimes the hate comes from our own families. I think what we went through is like a war. Some of us didn’t survive. Others are among the walking wounded.

A few thoughts about A Room With a View (1985) and the 2007 remake.

The Merchant Ivory production of E.M. Forster’s A Room With a View (1985) is without a doubt one of my favorite films. I have never stopped loving it, and I’ve seen it many times. I was Lucy’s age when I saw it for the first time, so the story of a young girl learning to be emotionally honest and finding the courage to ignore convention and follow her own heart resonated with me. And the film was so beautiful. And Lucy’s brother Freddy played by Rupert Graves… I’ll never forget the way his silky, baby fine hair would cascade over his face when he lowered his head. He was so adorable. I ached to be Freddy’s special friend. (As most everyone knows, Graves went on to play Scudder in Merchant Ivory’s production of Maurice.)

There was a made-for-TV remake in 2007 which aired on PBS’s Masterpiece Theater. I wanted to see it even though I knew it couldn’t possibly be as good as the movie I fell in love with, but I missed it. Then I moved to California, and I just never got around to seeing it…until today.

As expected, I didn’t like it nearly as much as I do the Merchant Ivory production, but it was a pretty good made-for-TV movie. They boy they got to play Freddy was pretty cute, too. Not nearly as impressive as Rupert Graves was when he played Freddy, but the new Freddy was sweet. The ending of the makeover left me a bit baffled. [Spoilers.] I realize they probably wanted to make their remake distinctive in some way, but I just didn’t like the new ending. In the book written more than 100 years ago and in the Merchant Ivory production which is now 30 years old, Lucy finally accepts that she’s in love with George. The two marry and return to Italy for their honeymoon. Well, that happened in the 2007 remake, as well, but then we learn that George was killed in the war, leaving Lucy a widow. After the war, Lucy returns to Italy yet again, and there she encounters the Italian carriage driver…the one who really liked his “sister.” The final scene shows the two of them having a romantic picnic near the meadow where George kissed Lucy and looking at one another longingly. I could hardly believe my eyes.

We have had enough of that nasty bullshit.

As far as I’m concerned, people can live how they want, think and believe what they want, and they can say what they want. But that goes for everybody, not just those who think being LGBT is wrong because of “deeply held religious beliefs.” The rest of us get to have our say, too. And I think that the idea that being homo, or wanting or having homo sex or homo relationships is sinful is a vicious, ugly, pernicious, vile, disgusting idea that does great harm. I also think that it is greatly toxic for an LGBT person to buy into such hateful nonsense born of abject stupidity. For centuries, we have hung our heads and remained silent when this revolting idea was expressed in public and in private. I hope that from now on the homo sin idea will be vehemently contradicted and put down every time someone espouses it. We have had enough of that nasty bullshit.

Happy to be Alive

From the time I was able to understand my feelings for what they are at age 11 until now, I have been grateful for my feelings and attractions for my own sex. They have been a source of great joy and excitement. To look at a guy and suddenly feel lusty and randy... Boredom is gone in an instant. To long to be with a special friend... To watch a movie or read a story about two men in love and feel their sorrows, anxieties and happiness... It has always brought me closer to this world and made me happy to be alive.

Hmm

Christians believe in a creator god. They believe their god created the universe and everything in it, including human beings. But rather than looking to the universe and nature to try to understand their god, they look to other human beings who claim to speak for their god. And many ignore their own supposedly god given sexual instincts and rely on their interpretation of an anthology to guide them, an anthology written hundreds and hundreds of years ago in another time and another culture.

Mind your business, fundies.

I grew up in southern West Virginia and lived most of my life there, so I know that fundamentalism produces a lot of busy bodies. If you're taught and you come to believe you know the truth, you might not have much respect for the opinions of others or accept that their journey may not be your own. If you convince yourself that you're literally saving your neighbor from hell, you might lose all respect for their privacy and right to live according to their own lights. If you tie your own supposed salvation to the supposed salvation of your neighbor, you might become a first class pain in the backside.

Just the other day, Tony Perkins suggested that he had an obligation to attack and oppress LGBT people because he was supposedly attempting to save them from hell.

I wonder how such people would feel if someone came up with a totally new religion that supposedly game them the authority to nose around in their life and tell them what to do. Of course, many fundamentalists wouldn't even understand that because they have been exposed to fundamentalist thinking to such a degree and at the near exclusion of any other points of view, they don't get how someone could see things differently.

Way Behind On My Quota

Of course, when a homophobe claims that all or most gay men are sluts and throws out a phony statistic like “the average gay man has sex with 500 partners by the time he’s 50,” it’s bullshit. Most of us simply don’t have that kind of energy or sex drive. It’s a lie, and at the core is the questionable idea that being a slut is necessarily a bad thing.

Some gay men do have that many partners, and some straight people have that many partners, too. So what? 2015 is the year that I will turn 50, and I wish I had blown 500 guys. I have PTSD and extreme social phobia, so I was hardly ever on the make in the last thirty years. My mental health prevented me from pursuing one of my greatest passions—beautiful, slim, somewhat effeminate, sweet, gentle young men. Now that I’m middle-aged and overweight, few would be interested in playing around with me.

I wish I had done it with a lot more men. All those people who think it’s wrong, or shallow and nasty… I don’t want their respect. You can’t win the respect of people like that anyway. They’ll just find something else to judge you for. So I say, fuck ‘em, and get on your knees—or on your back or whatever—as often as you want.

A few thoughts about Last Weekend

I enjoyed this film quite a lot. It received mixed reviews. Some say it’s boring and pointless, and some claim nothing happens. I think they don’t realize the story is character driven rather than plot driven. This is a story about people, a particular family. It’s not about a catastrophic event or trying to survive an alien invasion. I like stories like that, but I also appreciate quiet family dramas such as Last Weekend. And those who say nothing happened are wrong.

The Greens gather at their lake house for Labor Day weekend. The mother, Celia played by Patricia Clarkson, is considering selling the place. They used to go to the lake house quite a lot in summer when her sons were younger, but now that they’re in their late 20s, they have to be dragged to the place kicking and screaming. Everyone used to love the lake house, but things have changed. There’s quite a lot of tension in the family because no one is quite prepared to accept that circumstances are different now.

The way these people treat each other is often childish and immature. We see sides of them that aren’t very flattering. They are not always likable. But they are growing. It’s subtle. The story doesn’t bang you over the head with the slight shifts in attitudes, but by the end, the characters have been redeemed despite their selfishness and imperfections. We may not all be as affluent as the Greens, but I suspect many will recognize the family dynamics.