Dancing with Myself

Dare I? DARE I?

That's the most memorable line from Mississippi Sissy by Keven Sessums.  Up until this week-end, I thought I was the only sissy from the South.  NOT!  I was in a league of my own, but I was not by far the biggest sissy, nor the only one.  I guess I got the shit beat out of me too many times until I finally hit back.  By the age of seven I had learned that the pain from a blow doesn't last as long as the shame of not responding to taunts.  But then, I come from a tough people. 

Here's the situation.  I'm being stalked by an evil person who shows all the classic symptoms of advanced sociopathy.  Doesn't that sound wonderfully clinical?  It's easy enough to just shrug it off, right?  Cyber stalkers, I mean.  Crazy people are just crazy.  It's really not about you.  It's about them. 

My lawyer wants me to conduct a little test.  He wants me to demonstrate a compulsive disorder on the part of my stalker.  I'm going to continue blogging, but at a different address.  If my crazy streaming of consciousness has entertained you and you're interested in my saga, write and I'll be happy to furnish you with the new address.  The trap to prove my stalker's obsessive compulsion is to see what lengths he goes to find me.  A Google trail should prove sufficient for damages.

This is all necessary because I know I'm being stalked by an evil person, and I have begun a subtle degree of self-censorship. Any form of censorship dulls the blade, especially self-censorship, because my natural response to censorship is satire.  Self-censorship just makes my note sound flat.  (I think that's a mixed metaphor, but it's late and I'm moving.)  Let's see how long it takes my stalker to find me.

I suppose it's a little like identity-theft.  You always think of it as something that happens to others.

In one week, this blog will temporarily be closed.  That ought to drive the son-of-a-bitch abso-fucking-lutely crazy.  It's going to be fun recreating his mad search for me, in a court room.  I told my lawyer that I didn't think the s.o.b. had a pot to piss in, but he said that's not my problem.  I'll take his goddamn pot and he can go piss on himself.  If my language seems harsh, I apologize.  I come from America's rougher edge.  I come from a family tree that bears tough fruit, and nuts, just to be fair.

Think of it as a game.  Come find me if you care, or dare. 

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the Gayest of them all?

Several friends and I went to see and hear Joel Derfner read from his new book, Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever at Books, Inc. on Market Street in San Francisco.  What a pleasant evening.  The East Bay Boys met me and another friend for drinks and dinner.  Afterwards we walked over to the bookstore and managed to be fashionably late (my apologies to Mr. Derfner), but timely enough to  hear him sing, read and talk.  Joel writes a blog called Searching for Love in Manhattan which I started reading about a year ago.  After six months of reading and never saying anything, I felt embarrassed.  I imagined he was one of those bloggers who compulsively monitor the traffic on their blogs, who comes, who goes, what they read, etc.  What if he thought I was cyber stalking him.  (You laugh, but it happens.)  Thank god I finally found an opportunity to leave a comment a little more subsantial than "Kilroy was  here."

So anyway, as I was saying, we went to hear him read from his new book, and to meet him.  He is my favorite person du jour.  Wanting to impress him, I bought his book last Friday, so I was one of very few in the group that had read it which enabled me to ask a few questions.  I started reading the book like it was a cute collection of essays by someone with an interesting sense of humor and an incredible ability as a wordsmith.  Joel is a very good writer, and although this is his second book, it's really the first book-book.  The first book, as it were, is a collection of  poems called Gay Haiku.  Swish is a beautiful and passionate book.  My favorite part?  He attends an Exodus Ministries "convention" in Ashville, North Carolina.  Exodus Ministries is a Christian ministry dedicated to helping Gay men not be Gay. He's there to snark at them, but he is humbled by the humanity he encounters and experiences excruiciating angst that he feels for others who don't see the specialness of their lives. 

I haven't read Gay Haiku yet, despite my love of poetry.  Joel is giving a copy of it away as a prize in a contest he's sponsoring called Are You Gay Enough?  I don't think Joel is the Gayest person EVER, anymore than I am, but we're both Gay enough.  Entering his contest is simple.  You just have to read Swish and send him an email and tell him your favorite part.  My favorite part was watching and listening to him read and comment on his feelings and thought processes.  It made a very personal book that much more accessible. 

This isn't a proper review of Swish.   That will have to come later.  The other parts of my life are screaming at me, demanding my attention.  This is the best picture that was taken.  We're both cuter than that.

Everyone have a nice Memorial Day week-end, y'hear?

In Memoriam

For Lee.

Yitgadal v’yitkadash shemai raba . . .

Great and holy is your great Name
in this world you created by your will!
May your true reign begin
in our lifetime,
in our days,
in the lives of all who Struggle—
swiftly—
soon!

Let your great Name be blessed
for all ages to come—
blessed, praised, glorified, exalted,
extolled, honored, lifted up, lauded
be the Name of the Holy One,
blessed be you,
far beyond all blessings
and hymns and praises and consolations
that are spoken in the world.

Let great peace descend on us from the heavens!
Let life be renewed for us and for all who Struggle!
You who make peace in the heavens,
make peace for us.

Make peace for all who Struggle.

This translation of the Kaddish is from the blog, Notes from the Dreamtime, written by Craig R. Smith.  I found it this morning  when I was daytripping through the blogosphere.  He's taken a few liberties in his translation with which I concur. 

Lee and me last summer celebrating my 60th birthday.  Thanks for coming and celebrating with me, buddy. 

I miss you so much already that it hurts.

Houston's Pig and Poodle Farm

Maggie has started yet another contest.  One is supposed to look around their homestead, so to speak, and give it a clever name based on some characteristic.  That's easy enough:  I live on a freeway.  While my bedroom looks out onto a normal residential neighborhood, my deck appears to sit in a plum tree that flowers late winter and whose leaves catch the sun so fiercely that you can understand why Moses might have thought the bush was on fire.  For those reasons, if I called my place because of a proximity identity, I'd call it The Freeway Tree House.  Not a bad name, but I like the one I chose several years ago based on a dream, Houston's Pig and Poodle Farm, if only in my dreams.

My back porch, only out here they call it a deck. 

This is looking the other direction towards the freeway. As pretty as it is out here, unless you're deaf (which I am from living next door to a freeway), like I started to say, unless you're deaf, it's too noisy out here to truly enjoy. It's good enough for giving the smokers a place, and I grow a few herbs.

Don't get me wrong. I loves my home, but that doesn't mean I can't dream of quieter pastures, even if not greener ones. Wait! I've had an attack of rum induced brilliance. I'll call it the "It'll Do Freeway Tree House." It'll do until the P&P Farm becomes a reality.

California Supreme Court Overturns Gay Marriage Ban

In a 4-3 vote, California's Supreme Court has decided that separate but equal doesn't work for Gays and Lesbians when it comes to marriage anymore than it worked for schools in the South.

I've never been so proud of the Court as I am today. 

Three of the four votes are Republican appointees:  Chief Justice George, Justice Kennard, and Justice Werdegar.  Justice Moreno is a Democrat appointed by former Governor Gray Davis.  The three dissents are all Republicans.

The lines have already been drawn by the religious bigots.  There will be a petition on the ballot in November to overturn the Court's decision and write the hatred into the state's Constitution.  Never underestimate the determination of hate. 

Gays and Lesbians in the state will fight the Amendment with all our might.  Governor Schwarzenegger has already said he would campaign against the proposed Amendment.  Senator Obama is going to have to take a position as well.  We already know how Senator McCain feels. 

We have won, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls.  The war is not over, but we've just won a major battle.  California is the most cited and followed state in the United States when it comes to jurisprudence.  Our Supreme Court rocks!

UPDATE:

A friend just called and said that the Castro was in full tilt boogey celebration mode.  I'm going down right after lunch and join the party.  We have good reason to celebrate.

SECOND UPDATE:

I generally do not link to Andrew Sullivan.  I have a visceral reaction to him.  I think he is just about the biggest suck-up, self-contradicting piece of crap ever to come down the pike.  He has, however, in his obsessive way, collected some "good commentary on the California Supreme Court's decision on same-sex marriage.  It's worth a visit and a read.  Afterwards, go wash your hands. 

Here's Something I Bet You Didn't Know

And from a source I bet you would never have suspected, either.

Check out this link from the New York Times.

A Southern Reading Challenge

A new blogger acquaintance, Maggie of Maggie Reads, (she's a librarian in Mississippi) has a reading challenge going.  "It's time for our hot, sweaty summer of reading Southern Books! Are You Ready?!?

"The rules are easy: 3 Southern Setting Books by Southern Authors in 3 Months beginning May 15 through August 15! "

The three Southern books I will read this summer are (1) Mudbound by Hillary Jordan, (2) Mississippi Sissy by Kevin Sessums, and (3) Prince of Frogtown by Rick Bragg.

Just as long as I don't have to do a book report.

Asshole of the Day, Week & Month

Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner.  First, the qualifying quote:

“Reasonable people have had enough and are refusing to allow radical extremists to redefine marriage and family into oblivion,” he said. “So-called ‘same-sex marriage’ is a ridiculous and oxymoronic notion that has been forced into popular lexicon by homosexual activists who want to dress up and play house.” [Emphasis added.] - Matt Barber, policy director for cultural issues at the Concerned Women for America

We just want to "dress up and play house"?  What a fucking idiot, and an offensive one at that.  And why do Concerned Women for America have a male spokesperson?  Mr. Barber suffering from a little gender confusion?

This coming Summer and Fall is going to see a battle royal waged for the heart and soul of both California and the United States.  The shame of it all is that we have to spend millions defeating their amendment without really winning anything for ourselves.  Maybe we can convince Schwartzenegger to consider the vote to be a referendum.  If we defeat the amendment, he signs the same-sex marriage bill into law.

Happy Cinqo de Mayo

Isn't it nice that America gives each of its ethnic groups their very own drinking holiday?  For Mexican-Americans, it's cinqo de Mayo, the day that the French Army of Emperor Maximilian was defeated by the forces of General Ignacio Zaragoza. In Mexico, it's a minor national holiday. In America, it's an opportunity to drink a lot of tequila. In fact, I think the holiday as it's celebrated in the U.S. is the result of a marketing campaign by Cuervo tequila.

Having said that, of course I'm celebrating.  But then, of course, I pretty much celebrate all holidays, minor and major, of all cultural groups in the U.S.  That's the plus size of being multi-cultural.  Mardi gras, St. Patrick's Day, Columbus Day, Canada Day, July 4th, Texas Independence Day, Crawfish Festival, Rice Festival, Cotton Festival, Save the Salamander Festival.  You probably have one or two of your own.

On Saturday I attended a party in Concord given by a same-sex couple whom I did not know, Tim and Mark.  I was joined in this celebration by at least 100 others equally intent on celebrating this important holiday.  There was a tequila slide carved out of a slab of ice.  The annointee sits at the bottom of the slide which has about a 45 degree angle, while someone pours a shot of tequila into the top of the crevice and by the time it gets to the annointee it's cold.  Of course, I tried it.  I actually tried it four or five times just to make sure I got it.  Boy, did I get it.  The tequila being poured was the top shelf variety, and it sure was good.  There was a huge amount of food, all with a Mexican theme, but not all good.  Enough of it was good, but the chocolate cookies made with jalapenos were a bit much.

Today a bunch of my twisted friends are taking over my neighborhood bar for a Mexican-themed party.  I'm taking pictures at that one.  I do not have words to adequately describe this bunch of desperadoes, but let me say this, they are all desperate and they are all characters.

On an unrelated subject, I have a stalker.  Aren't I special?  He's a tired old guy who hates me passionately.  I'm not sure why he hates me, but he sure does.  He has a blog that is devoted to besmirching my character.  I have been called every name in the book.  Bless his heart.  It must be a terrible thing to be consumed by hate.  Like the old poem goes, he is to be more pitied than censured.  I have no intention of linking to his site.  It's easy enough to find it, just google my name.  Be sure to say hi for me.

Knowing that someone is stalking you, going through your garbage, reading each word you write, hoping for a crumb with which to smear you, causes one to go more slowly and be more cautious.  As a result of my stalker, I haven't posted much lately.  I thought I'd give him more time to go back and read every post I've ever made.  He looks for contradictions of which there are many.  He is titillated by anything Gay, and you know with me, there's plenty of that, too.  He has widely distributed pictures of me wearing a dress thinking that somehow that diminishes me.  Sad, huh?  It's also funny, because I think it's a fabulous picture of me.  I look good!  When he first started attacking me, I was going to put a bayou curse on him, but I realized someone had already beat me to it.  My stalker is old, fat, ugly, bald, impotent, has diabetes and a bad heart.  What was there left for me add?  This, and only this:  I WILL DANCE ON YOUR GRAVE, MOTHERFUCKER.  And that goes for the cow you run with, too, you know, the one that smells like an ashtray.

Now then, where was I?  Oh yeah, having fun with friends.  Happy cinqo de Mayo, or as we say here in California, happy 4th of May, too!