Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Short and Sweet
I'm not an atheist, but I reckon organized religion has bugger all to do with God or Gaia or any Prime Mover or higher power. The fact is, organized religion is to God, what fan fiction is to Star Trek. It's not canon and, when you get down to it, it's just something people make up for themselves to fill in the emptiness when the Real Thing is on hiatus.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Ron Jeremy Rides the F Train
It was some time in the late 80s. I was in my early 20s. My mother and I were riding the F train into Manhattan. I looked across the train, and who should I see sitting on the other side, but Ron Jeremy. THAT Ron Jeremy. Ron Jeremy of porn fame and legendary proportions. I thought, "Fuck, why am I with my MOTHER, and not my friend Amy? Of all people to be with when I spot Ron Jeremy...my MOTHER. This takes all the fun out of seeing Ron Jeremy. Life is so fucking unfair. I see celebrities in NYC all the fucking time, but this is Ron Fucking Jeremy...I need someone to witness this with me, someone who ISN'T my mother."
Of course I wasn't about to tell my mother to look at the chubby guy on the other end of the car, and tell her that I, her little girl, had seen him in porn movies. Who the hell tells their mother they've seen porn films, let alone know the actors names? What would my mother think of me, her baby, talking about some porn star? No. Life was unfair, and I'd just have to face the fact that my Ron Jeremy spotting had been a huge letdown because I hadn't been able to share it with anyone.
The train got to East Broadway, and Ron Jeremy stood up and got off the train.
My mother leaned over and asked, very quietly, "That big guy who just got off the train - did you happen to notice him? He's walking on the platform, now - look at him."
As the doors closed and the train slowly pulled out of the station, I spotted Ron Jeremy walking towards the steps.
"Yeah, I see him." I answered.
"His name is Ron Jeremy," my mother said, "He's a porn actor. He has the biggest penis you have ever seen in your life."
One more example of my mother's awesomeness.
Get well, Mr. F. Train.
Of course I wasn't about to tell my mother to look at the chubby guy on the other end of the car, and tell her that I, her little girl, had seen him in porn movies. Who the hell tells their mother they've seen porn films, let alone know the actors names? What would my mother think of me, her baby, talking about some porn star? No. Life was unfair, and I'd just have to face the fact that my Ron Jeremy spotting had been a huge letdown because I hadn't been able to share it with anyone.
The train got to East Broadway, and Ron Jeremy stood up and got off the train.
My mother leaned over and asked, very quietly, "That big guy who just got off the train - did you happen to notice him? He's walking on the platform, now - look at him."
As the doors closed and the train slowly pulled out of the station, I spotted Ron Jeremy walking towards the steps.
"Yeah, I see him." I answered.
"His name is Ron Jeremy," my mother said, "He's a porn actor. He has the biggest penis you have ever seen in your life."
One more example of my mother's awesomeness.
Get well, Mr. F. Train.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Good, great, perfect
In just a couple of months, I'll turn 46. I've done a hell of a lot in my life. I'm a little bit past the halfway point and, so far, I've:
Fallen in love
Been published
Walked across a swing bridge (after many fearful tries)
Camped out at the foot of a glacier
Spoken before NZ Parliament
Learned to shoot a .22
Soaked in a geothermal hot pool, in the middle of an alpine beech forest, under the stars
Been caught in a hurricane while camping out on the beach
Been up close and personal with a rare, red sea turtle, rumored to be 500 yrs old (he almost certainly wasn't that old...but he was amazing)
Experienced earthquakes in three different cities
Seen Halley's Comet
Sung backup on a rap album
Carved my initials in a tree
Crossed the Cook Strait when there were 5 meter swells
Thrown some killer dinner parties
Seen both the Southern and the Northern Lights
Baptized a baby
Visited the Corn Palace
Delivered my mother's eulogy
And that's just a sampling. Life is so full of things. Or, at least, it is if you're lucky. I'm very lucky. If you're really, truly, damned lucky, you get some wisdom along the way. I'll be 46 in a couple of months but, in my roughly 46 years on earth, I've never written or said anything quite so wise and true as this bit of wisdom doled out by my 7 yr old nephew. This wasn't homework, or a note he was writing to anyone but himself. Just something he jotted down. By the spelling and handwriting, it's pretty clear he wrote it a while back. So, it was written by a 5 or 6 yr old. My sister found it while packing up the house, as she gets ready to move for the umpteenth time. I'm so glad she not only kept it, but sent me a snapshot of it. It makes me remember that, no matter how many fun and interesting things I fill my life with, simplicity is all.
Fallen in love
Been published
Walked across a swing bridge (after many fearful tries)
Camped out at the foot of a glacier
Spoken before NZ Parliament
Learned to shoot a .22
Soaked in a geothermal hot pool, in the middle of an alpine beech forest, under the stars
Been caught in a hurricane while camping out on the beach
Been up close and personal with a rare, red sea turtle, rumored to be 500 yrs old (he almost certainly wasn't that old...but he was amazing)
Experienced earthquakes in three different cities
Seen Halley's Comet
Sung backup on a rap album
Carved my initials in a tree
Crossed the Cook Strait when there were 5 meter swells
Thrown some killer dinner parties
Seen both the Southern and the Northern Lights
Baptized a baby
Visited the Corn Palace
Delivered my mother's eulogy
And that's just a sampling. Life is so full of things. Or, at least, it is if you're lucky. I'm very lucky. If you're really, truly, damned lucky, you get some wisdom along the way. I'll be 46 in a couple of months but, in my roughly 46 years on earth, I've never written or said anything quite so wise and true as this bit of wisdom doled out by my 7 yr old nephew. This wasn't homework, or a note he was writing to anyone but himself. Just something he jotted down. By the spelling and handwriting, it's pretty clear he wrote it a while back. So, it was written by a 5 or 6 yr old. My sister found it while packing up the house, as she gets ready to move for the umpteenth time. I'm so glad she not only kept it, but sent me a snapshot of it. It makes me remember that, no matter how many fun and interesting things I fill my life with, simplicity is all.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Our Own Worst Enemies
I'm going to try and keep this short and sweet. We live in a world where homosexuals deify men such as Oscar Wilde who - do your homework, homos - was clever and talented and witty, but who went to prison not to DEFEND his gayness, but during an effort to DENY IT. In fact, his legal matters stemmed from the fact that, upon being called a "sodomite," by the The Marquees of Queensbury, Wilde sued Queensbury for libel. Take that in. He considered it so libelous to be called a fag, that he not only denied it, but sued the man who made the allegation. And he's a gay hero. An icon. Harvey Milk (who was NOT the first openly gay elected official in the USA, in case you're wondering) conveniently waited until he was 40, and for all of his relatives to be dead and buried before coming out. That was his prerogative. The mythology that's built up around him, though, is of a man who led a life of bravely being out and proud. Not really the case.
And I don't really care. I don't.
But many of the same people who deify these two homosexual men, both of whom went to great lengths to hide their homosexuality (Milk talked about how he came close to marrying a lesbian friend, so that they could each serve as beard for the other) have, over the last couple of days, shit all over actress Jodie Foster's Golden Globe speech. A speech which, if you were paying attention, wasn't about being gay, but about being someone who was thrust in front of a camera at 4, and who has enjoyed almost no privacy, since.
For decades, the queer press has hounded Foster to make a public announcement about her sexuality. She finally did, and she did on her terms. It was pretty much an "I came out to everyone who really matters ages ago. I'm gay. Are you happy? Will you leave me the fuck alone, now?" speech. I thought it was awesome and brave. Not brave because she's now "out" (I never thought she was IN) but brave because it was a sort of polite "fuck you" to the fame machine.
And before you say that she can't have her cake and eat it, too: she's a performer, not a politician. All she ever owes me is the two hours of entertainment when I pay to see one of her movies. That's it.
So what do queers all over America, and especially in the press, have to say in response to Foster's speech? That she rambled. That she should have just shut her mouth. That she has nerve complaining about a lack of privacy. That she DESERVES to have her privacy intruded upon. One gay person I know actually posted "The key to privacy is silence" over a photo of Foster at the Golden Globes. Um, seriously? Is that some sort of retarded twist on "Silence=Death" for truly stupid gay people?
Other people are saying that her speech wasn't enough. What the fuck more do they want, the precious bastards? Do they need footage of her performing oral sex on another woman, with narration by Ellen Degeneres and a soundtrack by Ani DiFranco?
Being gay in America sucks, in part, because queers are so fucking bitchy with the in-fighting, misogyny, and double standards.
For decades, the queer press has hounded Foster to make a public announcement about her sexuality. She finally did, and she did on her terms. It was pretty much an "I came out to everyone who really matters ages ago. I'm gay. Are you happy? Will you leave me the fuck alone, now?" speech. I thought it was awesome and brave. Not brave because she's now "out" (I never thought she was IN) but brave because it was a sort of polite "fuck you" to the fame machine.
And before you say that she can't have her cake and eat it, too: she's a performer, not a politician. All she ever owes me is the two hours of entertainment when I pay to see one of her movies. That's it.
So what do queers all over America, and especially in the press, have to say in response to Foster's speech? That she rambled. That she should have just shut her mouth. That she has nerve complaining about a lack of privacy. That she DESERVES to have her privacy intruded upon. One gay person I know actually posted "The key to privacy is silence" over a photo of Foster at the Golden Globes. Um, seriously? Is that some sort of retarded twist on "Silence=Death" for truly stupid gay people?
Other people are saying that her speech wasn't enough. What the fuck more do they want, the precious bastards? Do they need footage of her performing oral sex on another woman, with narration by Ellen Degeneres and a soundtrack by Ani DiFranco?
Being gay in America sucks, in part, because queers are so fucking bitchy with the in-fighting, misogyny, and double standards.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
The Gayest Thing on Television
And by "gayest," I mean the absolute best, most consistently surprising, wonderful, and original thing we've seen on the small screen in years. This 2 minute and 16 second clip is my new favorite thing, for so many reasons. Sister Judy gets her groove on. Kit and Pepper boogie down. Lana smiles. All is well with the world. I wish I could MARRY this clip.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
The Year. A Review.
I've done this for a few years running, so why stop now? Y'all know the drill - this is nothing more than a list of the things about the past year that I took notice of - good or bad.
Best Movie That No One Saw:
Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master. I think five of us saw it. Two of us loved it, the other three hated it. I fucking LOVED this movie. But I love anything PTA touches. And this time, he's touching Scientology's roots...and it's a bad touch, the kind you point out on a doll, in a courtroom scene on Law and Order. Delicious. Gutwrenching. And, yes, annoying. But Scientology IS annoying, so that's par for the course. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is a revelation. Joaquin Phoenix makes up for his stupid behavior in real life, by putting in the performance of a lifetime. I didn't think he could be better than he was in Gladiator. I was wrong. He deserves an Oscar. He won't get it.
Most Unlikely Movie To Get No Promotion, At All:
Dredd 3D. What the fuck? Who makes a big, gorgeous, sprawling epic of a futuristic, comic-book-inspired movie that looks like it cost a hell of a lot to make, and then doesn't promote it in any way? This is the kind of movie that promoting films is all about. I promise you - I am not just saying this because Lena Headey plays the baddie (and she does a bang-up job as the sadistic Ma-Ma): this movie is actually REALLY FUCKING GOOD. Maybe the best film adaptation of a comic book I've seen. By all rights, this should have made a gazzillion dollars at the box office: Headey has a huge fan base, and she's especially hot, right now, due to Game of Thrones. Karl Urban has a decent following thanks to LOTR and the Star Trek Reboot. The movie incorporates some truly amazing visual effects, and makes the best use of 3D I've yet to see. Plus...COMIC BOOK GEEKS. This movie should have been pimped, and pimped hard. Instead, it opened and closed in record time.
Best Bit of Nonfiction I Read in 2012:
Eden's Outcasts. Ok, this was written in 2007, and won the Pulitzer in 2008, but I only got around to it a few months ago. This is my list, so live with it. If you know me, you know I'm a bit of an Alcott freak. Love, love, love this dual bio of Amos Bronson Alcott and his celebrated daughter, Louisa May, that pulls no punches. If you're a fan, this is a MUST.
Best Bit of Fiction I Read in 2012:
Ok, some back story is called for, in this case. I'd avoided reading The Hunger Games, or even finding out what it was about. Mostly because a lot of annoying people kept telling me that I HAD to read it. When the movie came out, I paid no attention, and never found out about the theme, the plot, the characters...any of it. I DID NOT CARE. And then I took up archery, and a friend - someone who isn't annoying, at all - brought up The Hunger Games, and mentioned that archery played a big role in it. She suggested I give it a try. So, yes, I was late to the game, and the annoying people were right. It's a great book. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say this: it is the best contemporary book for girls and young women to read, period. It is the book the world has been waiting for since 1868, when Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women. Once upon a time, every American girl (and every English and German and Japanese girl...) read Little Women. I don't think that's so anymore. Sadly, what was radical and liberating for and about girls and women in 1868 is too often viewed as prudish, by today's standards. Worse, some people plain don't get it, can't place it in its context, and think Alcott's works are anti-woman, which couldn't be further from the truth. But I digress. If every little girl used to read Little Women, every modern little girl should be reading The Hunger Games. It's brilliant, and kind of beautiful, and it has a female protagonist who is - dare I say it? - a 21st century Jo March. Katniss Everdeen kicks ass. She's physically powerful, intelligent, humane, and a survivor. She does not give up, she does not accept the status quo, and she doesn't stand around, waiting for a boy to save her. I'm so glad I finally got around to reading this. I loved it so much, I've got the next two books in the series, but haven't even started them, yet, because I want to savor them.
Newest Fixation:
Archery. Why have I pined away for want of doing this since I was a kid, only venturing to try it out at 45? Saturday mornings, Golden Gate Park. I'm there. (No - that's not me in the photo.)
Most Addictive Clusterfuck of Terror that I Take Personally:
Season 1 of American Horror Story was really good. Season 2 - American Horror Story: Asylum - is fantastic. It's also the most scary, fucked up shit to hit the small screen, maybe EVER. You name the scary, and it's there: serial killers, sadists, Satan inhabiting the body of a young nun, the Angel of Death, alien abduction, ritualistic torture...oh, and I haven't even gotten to the truly scary part. None of that gives me nightmares, but the story of Lana Winters, a lesbian living in 1960s Boston, who is shoved away in an asylum because of her deviant sexual nature, and subjected to all manner or emotional and physical torture? Now THAT sends me into a corner, where I roll up into a fetal position and rock myself to sleep every Wednesday night. Because the monsters Lana Winters faces every week are all too real, and her horror could conceivably befall any of us. I rarely cry. The scene where Lana is subjected to aversion therapy brought me close to tears. This show is so bad for my mental health, I'm sure of it. Yet, it's so well done, and so compelling...I can't NOT watch it. And Sarah Paulson is a heart-breaker, in more ways than one. Watch at your own risk. But watch.
Best On-screen Chemistry:
Lena Headey and Peter Dinklage as siblings Cersei and Tyrion. They're a joy to watch together. Any scene with Cersei and The Imp is worth watching over and over. I love them. I haven't read the Game of Thrones books but, so I have no idea what's to come. If Tyrion dies, I'm going to scream. I mean it. He's so awesome.
Most Pleasant TV Surprise:
The Dallas reboot is good. Really good. I'd assumed it would suck. I'd assumed they'd only use the old actors as background. I assumed it would be a mess that paid no mind to the Dallas cannon. I was wrong. The reboot is a gorgeous continuation of the original series, obviously written by folks who have great love for original, and who were determined that the classic characters be front and center, all the way. Josh Henderson, who got off to a shaky start as John Ross, ended the season looking and sounding every inch the heir apparent of J.R. Ewing. Honestly? The season one finale could not have been better. Viewers witnessed the birth of a monster in Henderson's John Ross, and he was 100% up to the job. I have big love for this series, and hope it can survive the sad passing of Larry Hagman.
Best Lesbian Thing All Year:
I'll readily admit that I don't actually know much about "lesbian things," because I don't like most of the books, movies, sports, music or celebrities people associate with lesbians. But I know good stuff made by lesbians, about lesbians, when I see it. The Throwaways, by Tellofilms is really well-done, and worth seeking out.
Favorite New Not-For-Profit:
A is for... is a very cool new organization whose mission is all about preserving and guaranteeing the rights of women through education and advocacy, and support of other woman-centric groups. I like these folks. They're cool, and they want the average woman to get involved in her own future. What's not to like about this?
Most Satisfying Personal Achievement - Major:
Complete dietary and lifestyle changes that have resulted in complete control of a chronic condition and changed my outlook on just about everything. Enough said about this.
Most Satisfying Personal Achievement - Minor:
You're probably going to ask, "Is she kidding? THAT'S a satisfying achievement???" I just SAID it would be a minor achievement. It was more tricky than I'd thought it would be, so I was proud of myself for actually seeing this through to the end and sending it on its merry way to a young friend in L.A. I MADE THIS, YO.
Best New Blog:
The Gay Agenda: Free Dream Interpretation By A Lesbian With A Definite Bias. Yeah, I'm plugging my own shit. Deal with it.
Best Movie That No One Saw:
Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master. I think five of us saw it. Two of us loved it, the other three hated it. I fucking LOVED this movie. But I love anything PTA touches. And this time, he's touching Scientology's roots...and it's a bad touch, the kind you point out on a doll, in a courtroom scene on Law and Order. Delicious. Gutwrenching. And, yes, annoying. But Scientology IS annoying, so that's par for the course. Phillip Seymour Hoffman is a revelation. Joaquin Phoenix makes up for his stupid behavior in real life, by putting in the performance of a lifetime. I didn't think he could be better than he was in Gladiator. I was wrong. He deserves an Oscar. He won't get it.
Most Unlikely Movie To Get No Promotion, At All:
Dredd 3D. What the fuck? Who makes a big, gorgeous, sprawling epic of a futuristic, comic-book-inspired movie that looks like it cost a hell of a lot to make, and then doesn't promote it in any way? This is the kind of movie that promoting films is all about. I promise you - I am not just saying this because Lena Headey plays the baddie (and she does a bang-up job as the sadistic Ma-Ma): this movie is actually REALLY FUCKING GOOD. Maybe the best film adaptation of a comic book I've seen. By all rights, this should have made a gazzillion dollars at the box office: Headey has a huge fan base, and she's especially hot, right now, due to Game of Thrones. Karl Urban has a decent following thanks to LOTR and the Star Trek Reboot. The movie incorporates some truly amazing visual effects, and makes the best use of 3D I've yet to see. Plus...COMIC BOOK GEEKS. This movie should have been pimped, and pimped hard. Instead, it opened and closed in record time.
Eden's Outcasts. Ok, this was written in 2007, and won the Pulitzer in 2008, but I only got around to it a few months ago. This is my list, so live with it. If you know me, you know I'm a bit of an Alcott freak. Love, love, love this dual bio of Amos Bronson Alcott and his celebrated daughter, Louisa May, that pulls no punches. If you're a fan, this is a MUST.
Best Bit of Fiction I Read in 2012:
Ok, some back story is called for, in this case. I'd avoided reading The Hunger Games, or even finding out what it was about. Mostly because a lot of annoying people kept telling me that I HAD to read it. When the movie came out, I paid no attention, and never found out about the theme, the plot, the characters...any of it. I DID NOT CARE. And then I took up archery, and a friend - someone who isn't annoying, at all - brought up The Hunger Games, and mentioned that archery played a big role in it. She suggested I give it a try. So, yes, I was late to the game, and the annoying people were right. It's a great book. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say this: it is the best contemporary book for girls and young women to read, period. It is the book the world has been waiting for since 1868, when Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women. Once upon a time, every American girl (and every English and German and Japanese girl...) read Little Women. I don't think that's so anymore. Sadly, what was radical and liberating for and about girls and women in 1868 is too often viewed as prudish, by today's standards. Worse, some people plain don't get it, can't place it in its context, and think Alcott's works are anti-woman, which couldn't be further from the truth. But I digress. If every little girl used to read Little Women, every modern little girl should be reading The Hunger Games. It's brilliant, and kind of beautiful, and it has a female protagonist who is - dare I say it? - a 21st century Jo March. Katniss Everdeen kicks ass. She's physically powerful, intelligent, humane, and a survivor. She does not give up, she does not accept the status quo, and she doesn't stand around, waiting for a boy to save her. I'm so glad I finally got around to reading this. I loved it so much, I've got the next two books in the series, but haven't even started them, yet, because I want to savor them.
Newest Fixation:
Archery. Why have I pined away for want of doing this since I was a kid, only venturing to try it out at 45? Saturday mornings, Golden Gate Park. I'm there. (No - that's not me in the photo.)
Most Addictive Clusterfuck of Terror that I Take Personally:
Season 1 of American Horror Story was really good. Season 2 - American Horror Story: Asylum - is fantastic. It's also the most scary, fucked up shit to hit the small screen, maybe EVER. You name the scary, and it's there: serial killers, sadists, Satan inhabiting the body of a young nun, the Angel of Death, alien abduction, ritualistic torture...oh, and I haven't even gotten to the truly scary part. None of that gives me nightmares, but the story of Lana Winters, a lesbian living in 1960s Boston, who is shoved away in an asylum because of her deviant sexual nature, and subjected to all manner or emotional and physical torture? Now THAT sends me into a corner, where I roll up into a fetal position and rock myself to sleep every Wednesday night. Because the monsters Lana Winters faces every week are all too real, and her horror could conceivably befall any of us. I rarely cry. The scene where Lana is subjected to aversion therapy brought me close to tears. This show is so bad for my mental health, I'm sure of it. Yet, it's so well done, and so compelling...I can't NOT watch it. And Sarah Paulson is a heart-breaker, in more ways than one. Watch at your own risk. But watch.
Best On-screen Chemistry:
Lena Headey and Peter Dinklage as siblings Cersei and Tyrion. They're a joy to watch together. Any scene with Cersei and The Imp is worth watching over and over. I love them. I haven't read the Game of Thrones books but, so I have no idea what's to come. If Tyrion dies, I'm going to scream. I mean it. He's so awesome.
Most Pleasant TV Surprise:
The Dallas reboot is good. Really good. I'd assumed it would suck. I'd assumed they'd only use the old actors as background. I assumed it would be a mess that paid no mind to the Dallas cannon. I was wrong. The reboot is a gorgeous continuation of the original series, obviously written by folks who have great love for original, and who were determined that the classic characters be front and center, all the way. Josh Henderson, who got off to a shaky start as John Ross, ended the season looking and sounding every inch the heir apparent of J.R. Ewing. Honestly? The season one finale could not have been better. Viewers witnessed the birth of a monster in Henderson's John Ross, and he was 100% up to the job. I have big love for this series, and hope it can survive the sad passing of Larry Hagman.
Best Lesbian Thing All Year:
I'll readily admit that I don't actually know much about "lesbian things," because I don't like most of the books, movies, sports, music or celebrities people associate with lesbians. But I know good stuff made by lesbians, about lesbians, when I see it. The Throwaways, by Tellofilms is really well-done, and worth seeking out.
Favorite New Not-For-Profit:
A is for... is a very cool new organization whose mission is all about preserving and guaranteeing the rights of women through education and advocacy, and support of other woman-centric groups. I like these folks. They're cool, and they want the average woman to get involved in her own future. What's not to like about this?
Most Satisfying Personal Achievement - Major:
Complete dietary and lifestyle changes that have resulted in complete control of a chronic condition and changed my outlook on just about everything. Enough said about this.
Most Satisfying Personal Achievement - Minor:
You're probably going to ask, "Is she kidding? THAT'S a satisfying achievement???" I just SAID it would be a minor achievement. It was more tricky than I'd thought it would be, so I was proud of myself for actually seeing this through to the end and sending it on its merry way to a young friend in L.A. I MADE THIS, YO.
Best New Blog:
The Gay Agenda: Free Dream Interpretation By A Lesbian With A Definite Bias. Yeah, I'm plugging my own shit. Deal with it.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Just Be Thankful, Asshole
Someone I know only in passing - a Facebook "friend," I've never met, and have barely every interacted with (such is how fast and loose we've become with the concept of friendship) just set his status as, "I have almost nothing in my life to be thankful for this year."
Excuse me, but SHUT THE FUCK UP.
This is not some guy living in the Middle East who doesn't know if his children's school will be bombed on any given day. This isn't someone who lost his home to hurricane Sandy. This isn't someone dying of cancer. And, let's be honest - most of those folks are probably thankful for every day their kids get home from school safely, that they got out of Sandy alive, and that cancer hasn't beaten them, yet. No, this is just a guy who seems somewhat disenchanted with life and can't see how fucking ridiculously blessed he is.
This morning I made breakfast for myself. The espresso pot I used was a gift from one dear friend. The coffee, itself, was a gift from another. The recipe for the dish I cooked came from an old love. The pan I cooked it in was a housewarming gift from my mother. The knife I used was given to me by my sister. My coffee mug? I've had it for over 20 yrs, having picked it up at a garage sale some 20+ years ago, on a sunny Saturday morning spent with one of my favorite people. My breakfast plate - turquoise Fiestaware from the 30s - was my grandmother's favorite plate. Even the simple act of cooking a basic meal is full of reminders of how much my cup really does runneth over. I'm not talking about the stuff. The coffee pot and the pan and the knife - those are all swell. It's the connections to people that really count as blessings, though. And, if a spot of breakfast is overflowing with reminders of how fucking sweet life is, and how many good people are part of my life? The rest of the day is a freaking cavalcade of things to be thankful for.
Now, I'm not saying that everyone is as lucky as I am. What I am saying is that most of us - especially those of us in the western world, where we have it pretty damned cushy - have a hell of a lot to be thankful for. I'm not crazy about the city in which I live. I'm not crazy about being single. I'm not crazy about not being able to see my family often, or that most of my friends live on the other side of the country. This doesn't mean I have nothing to be thankful for. It's almost obscene how much there is in my life to be thankful for: friends, family, good health, a sense of humor, a decent place to live, food in my belly. Coffee. My favorite sweater. A sharp mind. Freedom.
All in all, I live a life of incredible ease and comfort, and which affords me as much safety and security as anyone has a right to hope for. And this guy who supposedly has nothing to be thankful for? Even the small bit I know about him tells me he enjoys the same. Maybe he should stop being such a self-pitying dick, put away his woeful violin, and take a good look around him.
Life is a great, fucking thing. Be thankful, asshole.
Excuse me, but SHUT THE FUCK UP.
This is not some guy living in the Middle East who doesn't know if his children's school will be bombed on any given day. This isn't someone who lost his home to hurricane Sandy. This isn't someone dying of cancer. And, let's be honest - most of those folks are probably thankful for every day their kids get home from school safely, that they got out of Sandy alive, and that cancer hasn't beaten them, yet. No, this is just a guy who seems somewhat disenchanted with life and can't see how fucking ridiculously blessed he is.
This morning I made breakfast for myself. The espresso pot I used was a gift from one dear friend. The coffee, itself, was a gift from another. The recipe for the dish I cooked came from an old love. The pan I cooked it in was a housewarming gift from my mother. The knife I used was given to me by my sister. My coffee mug? I've had it for over 20 yrs, having picked it up at a garage sale some 20+ years ago, on a sunny Saturday morning spent with one of my favorite people. My breakfast plate - turquoise Fiestaware from the 30s - was my grandmother's favorite plate. Even the simple act of cooking a basic meal is full of reminders of how much my cup really does runneth over. I'm not talking about the stuff. The coffee pot and the pan and the knife - those are all swell. It's the connections to people that really count as blessings, though. And, if a spot of breakfast is overflowing with reminders of how fucking sweet life is, and how many good people are part of my life? The rest of the day is a freaking cavalcade of things to be thankful for.
Now, I'm not saying that everyone is as lucky as I am. What I am saying is that most of us - especially those of us in the western world, where we have it pretty damned cushy - have a hell of a lot to be thankful for. I'm not crazy about the city in which I live. I'm not crazy about being single. I'm not crazy about not being able to see my family often, or that most of my friends live on the other side of the country. This doesn't mean I have nothing to be thankful for. It's almost obscene how much there is in my life to be thankful for: friends, family, good health, a sense of humor, a decent place to live, food in my belly. Coffee. My favorite sweater. A sharp mind. Freedom.
All in all, I live a life of incredible ease and comfort, and which affords me as much safety and security as anyone has a right to hope for. And this guy who supposedly has nothing to be thankful for? Even the small bit I know about him tells me he enjoys the same. Maybe he should stop being such a self-pitying dick, put away his woeful violin, and take a good look around him.
Life is a great, fucking thing. Be thankful, asshole.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
I Fucking Love New York
Like I said, this has been a tough week for my city and, if I've always loved my city, I love it more during times of adversity. I FUCKING LOVE NEW YORK CITY. Because, when Mother Nature takes a swipe at my city, my city falls flat on its ass, gets up, brushes off, rolls up its sleeves, and gets back into the ring.
Because, even when a neighborhood is gone, the outer boroughs are still about neighbors.
Because my gorgeous fellow bridge-and-tunnel people look out their windows at a rising flood, and think, "I have a motherfucking canoe and a paddle around here somewhere."
Because even in the dark, and under water, there is no city more beautiful.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Whatever: On National Coming Out Day
So, it's National Coming Out Day. I'm of divided minds about this.
On the one hand, I think it's a little lame and that the whole idea of having a coming out day even further oversimplifies the whole thing. People who aren’t gay have this idea that coming out is something a person does and gets over with, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. There is no getting it over with. Coming out is something most gay people have to do over and over again, during our lives. We come out to parents. To friends. To neighbors. To nosy people who get it into their heads to fix us up with nice guys they know. To nice guys (and not so nice guys) who have other ideas. And, really the bad parts about coming out do not ever get any better. I mean, the words, themselves, are easier to say, but the feeling that the bottom might fall out from under my feet once I’ve spilled the beans to a particular person? That feeling has never gone away, and probably never will. Because there will always be assholes and bigots in the world. Because there are still lots of places where being gay can mean losing a job, losing an apartment, losing custody of one's children...even losing friends and family.
I'm annoyed by National Coming Out Day because I want coming out to be over and done with, once and for all. Because coming out over and over, again can be like pulling off a scab before a cut has fully healed. Who fucking needs it?
On the other hand...
Anyone who knows me or has read this blog for any length of time knows that my appreciation of Maureen Garrett runs deep and true. A fine, fine actress who really should have made the jump from soaps to the big screen, the way Julianne Moore (and so many others) did. Her long-term relationship with another woman was never a secret - lots of us knew about it. I've never met Garrett, and even I knew about it. But she, herself, never discussed it publicly - which was her prerogative. I have to say, though, as much of a cynic about this whole coming out business as I may be, it does my heart good to find out that Garrett has decided to officially come out and talk about her partner and their children.
Way back when, I had this idea that the writers at Guiding Light passed on what could have been a great opportunity when they had Garrett on hand for a short time. But, hey - who cares what they did or didn't do on a tv show? A television show may be the reason I know this woman exists, and how I came to appreciate her talent, but the real-life milestone she's just marked is so much more significant than anything Holly Norris could have imagined.
In spite of myself, I find myself appreciating stupid, old National Coming Out Day.
On the one hand, I think it's a little lame and that the whole idea of having a coming out day even further oversimplifies the whole thing. People who aren’t gay have this idea that coming out is something a person does and gets over with, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. There is no getting it over with. Coming out is something most gay people have to do over and over again, during our lives. We come out to parents. To friends. To neighbors. To nosy people who get it into their heads to fix us up with nice guys they know. To nice guys (and not so nice guys) who have other ideas. And, really the bad parts about coming out do not ever get any better. I mean, the words, themselves, are easier to say, but the feeling that the bottom might fall out from under my feet once I’ve spilled the beans to a particular person? That feeling has never gone away, and probably never will. Because there will always be assholes and bigots in the world. Because there are still lots of places where being gay can mean losing a job, losing an apartment, losing custody of one's children...even losing friends and family.
I'm annoyed by National Coming Out Day because I want coming out to be over and done with, once and for all. Because coming out over and over, again can be like pulling off a scab before a cut has fully healed. Who fucking needs it?
On the other hand...
Anyone who knows me or has read this blog for any length of time knows that my appreciation of Maureen Garrett runs deep and true. A fine, fine actress who really should have made the jump from soaps to the big screen, the way Julianne Moore (and so many others) did. Her long-term relationship with another woman was never a secret - lots of us knew about it. I've never met Garrett, and even I knew about it. But she, herself, never discussed it publicly - which was her prerogative. I have to say, though, as much of a cynic about this whole coming out business as I may be, it does my heart good to find out that Garrett has decided to officially come out and talk about her partner and their children.
Way back when, I had this idea that the writers at Guiding Light passed on what could have been a great opportunity when they had Garrett on hand for a short time. But, hey - who cares what they did or didn't do on a tv show? A television show may be the reason I know this woman exists, and how I came to appreciate her talent, but the real-life milestone she's just marked is so much more significant than anything Holly Norris could have imagined.
In spite of myself, I find myself appreciating stupid, old National Coming Out Day.
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