Which Family Guy character are you?
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
 Love me or hate me. I taste like Marmite.I am salty and sharp. My abrasive edge greatly upsets some people, but others will gleefully endure it. For those willing to put up with me, I am a great source of emotional health and stability. What Flavour Are You? |
This is bad....ass
My goddamn rock solid ghetto shiznit name is Harry Teapot, Yo.
What's yours?
Powered by Rum and Monkey.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Saturday, March 27, 2004
Mormons and Boy Bands.
So I had this realization the other day—in a suit and tie, hair slicked back I look like a little Mormon boy. All I needed was a bible and a black backpack. I guess this should be that much of a surprise given my baby face but nonetheless it was jarring. Living in LA, it is a rare job which involves a tie or even a dress shirt so it not something that I am comfortable in doing. Of course, the question is why I was doing it. A job interview, one of the few truly unfun things I have to do in life. It was for this paper and selling ad space to local business. In a moment of rebellion I decided not to wear the tie but instead went in a cute dress suit and suit jacket with khakis. I blew into the interview and felt more confident than more normal. The interview was fun and good but only because I discovered that the day uses free writers and that I could possibly propose an idea for a column. Of course, that wasn’t the real point of the afternoon, employment was. I think I did a god bluff job of wanting the position but it has gotten me to wondering about the line. The line that all artists face at some point, to either be financially secure or continue to work McJob as one chases their dream. It’s a hard thing to understand if one doesn’t have a passion or calling but I’m also starting to see the other side of the picture. I know that there are people in my life who think I am chasing waterfalls and not being realistic about things. That even though I have had a few successes that it is getting close to the time to settle down. Turn myself into something that can be molded for the future. That if I want marriage and a family then I have to get serious about getting things down financially but it is hard. I have known my whole life that I want to be a writer. I can still remember the first story I wrote in 3rd grade about a young couple stumbling on to mystery and mayhem. Blame “General Hospital” but I was very into fantasy at the time in my life and surprised my teacher with a story of ill fated love and suicide set against a foreign backdrop. But the most powerful memory growing up was the first story I wrote for myself and realizing that I loved just sitting in front of a blank page and just going to town. It is difficult to realize that in order to have everything else perfect in life; a man, a family, a nice house and the ability to enjoy it—that I have to give up so much. I just wish that it was easier than this. I shouldn’t have to give up one just have another. I guess the deal is to just keep pushing forward and believe that I am doing the right thing… It just gets hard sometimes. On a side note, as I was leaving my interview I ran into Kevin from the Backstreet Boys. This is like my 3rd run in with him in the last 3 months. I am fully expecting him to scream out “Stalker!” next time he sees me.
So I had this realization the other day—in a suit and tie, hair slicked back I look like a little Mormon boy. All I needed was a bible and a black backpack. I guess this should be that much of a surprise given my baby face but nonetheless it was jarring. Living in LA, it is a rare job which involves a tie or even a dress shirt so it not something that I am comfortable in doing. Of course, the question is why I was doing it. A job interview, one of the few truly unfun things I have to do in life. It was for this paper and selling ad space to local business. In a moment of rebellion I decided not to wear the tie but instead went in a cute dress suit and suit jacket with khakis. I blew into the interview and felt more confident than more normal. The interview was fun and good but only because I discovered that the day uses free writers and that I could possibly propose an idea for a column. Of course, that wasn’t the real point of the afternoon, employment was. I think I did a god bluff job of wanting the position but it has gotten me to wondering about the line. The line that all artists face at some point, to either be financially secure or continue to work McJob as one chases their dream. It’s a hard thing to understand if one doesn’t have a passion or calling but I’m also starting to see the other side of the picture. I know that there are people in my life who think I am chasing waterfalls and not being realistic about things. That even though I have had a few successes that it is getting close to the time to settle down. Turn myself into something that can be molded for the future. That if I want marriage and a family then I have to get serious about getting things down financially but it is hard. I have known my whole life that I want to be a writer. I can still remember the first story I wrote in 3rd grade about a young couple stumbling on to mystery and mayhem. Blame “General Hospital” but I was very into fantasy at the time in my life and surprised my teacher with a story of ill fated love and suicide set against a foreign backdrop. But the most powerful memory growing up was the first story I wrote for myself and realizing that I loved just sitting in front of a blank page and just going to town. It is difficult to realize that in order to have everything else perfect in life; a man, a family, a nice house and the ability to enjoy it—that I have to give up so much. I just wish that it was easier than this. I shouldn’t have to give up one just have another. I guess the deal is to just keep pushing forward and believe that I am doing the right thing… It just gets hard sometimes. On a side note, as I was leaving my interview I ran into Kevin from the Backstreet Boys. This is like my 3rd run in with him in the last 3 months. I am fully expecting him to scream out “Stalker!” next time he sees me.
Mormons and Boy Bands.
So I had this realization the other day—in a suit and tie, hair slicked back I look like a little Mormon boy. All I needed was a bible and a black backpack. I guess this should be that much of a surprise given my baby face but nonetheless it was jarring. Living in LA, it is a rare job which involves a tie or even a dress shirt so it not something that I am comfortable in doing.
Of course, the question is why I was doing it. A job interview, one of the few truly unfun things I have to do in life. It was for this paper and selling ad space to local business. In a moment of rebellion I decided not to wear the tie but instead went in a cute dress suit and suit jacket with khakis. I blew into the interview and felt more confident than more normal. The interview was fun and good but only because I discovered that the day uses free writers and that I could possibly propose an idea for a column.
Of course, that wasn’t the real point of the afternoon, employment was. I think I did a god bluff job of wanting the position but it has gotten me to wondering about the line. The line that all artists face at some point, to either be financially secure or continue to work McJob as one chases their dream. It’s a hard thing to understand if one doesn’t have a passion or calling but I’m also starting to see the other side of the picture.
I know that there are people in my life who think I am chasing waterfalls and not being realistic about things. That even though I have had a few successes that it is getting close to the time to settle down. Turn myself into something that can be molded for the future. That if I want marriage and a family then I have to get serious about getting things down financially but it is hard.
I have known my whole life that I want to be a writer. I can still remember the first story I wrote in 3rd grade about a young couple stumbling on to mystery and mayhem. Blame “General Hospital” but I was very into fantasy at the time in my life and surprised my teacher with a story of ill fated love and suicide set against a foreign backdrop. But the most powerful memory growing up was the first story I wrote for myself and realizing that I loved just sitting in front of a blank page and just going to town.
It is difficult to realize that in order to have everything else perfect in life; a man, a family, a nice house and the ability to enjoy it—that I have to give up so much. I just wish that it was easier than this. I shouldn’t have to give up one just have another. I guess the deal is to just keep pushing forward and believe that I am doing the right thing… It just gets hard sometimes.
On a side note, as I was leaving my interview I ran into Kevin from the Backstreet Boys. This is like my 3rd run in with him in the last 3 months. I am fully expecting him to scream out “Stalker!” next time he sees me.
So I had this realization the other day—in a suit and tie, hair slicked back I look like a little Mormon boy. All I needed was a bible and a black backpack. I guess this should be that much of a surprise given my baby face but nonetheless it was jarring. Living in LA, it is a rare job which involves a tie or even a dress shirt so it not something that I am comfortable in doing.
Of course, the question is why I was doing it. A job interview, one of the few truly unfun things I have to do in life. It was for this paper and selling ad space to local business. In a moment of rebellion I decided not to wear the tie but instead went in a cute dress suit and suit jacket with khakis. I blew into the interview and felt more confident than more normal. The interview was fun and good but only because I discovered that the day uses free writers and that I could possibly propose an idea for a column.
Of course, that wasn’t the real point of the afternoon, employment was. I think I did a god bluff job of wanting the position but it has gotten me to wondering about the line. The line that all artists face at some point, to either be financially secure or continue to work McJob as one chases their dream. It’s a hard thing to understand if one doesn’t have a passion or calling but I’m also starting to see the other side of the picture.
I know that there are people in my life who think I am chasing waterfalls and not being realistic about things. That even though I have had a few successes that it is getting close to the time to settle down. Turn myself into something that can be molded for the future. That if I want marriage and a family then I have to get serious about getting things down financially but it is hard.
I have known my whole life that I want to be a writer. I can still remember the first story I wrote in 3rd grade about a young couple stumbling on to mystery and mayhem. Blame “General Hospital” but I was very into fantasy at the time in my life and surprised my teacher with a story of ill fated love and suicide set against a foreign backdrop. But the most powerful memory growing up was the first story I wrote for myself and realizing that I loved just sitting in front of a blank page and just going to town.
It is difficult to realize that in order to have everything else perfect in life; a man, a family, a nice house and the ability to enjoy it—that I have to give up so much. I just wish that it was easier than this. I shouldn’t have to give up one just have another. I guess the deal is to just keep pushing forward and believe that I am doing the right thing… It just gets hard sometimes.
On a side note, as I was leaving my interview I ran into Kevin from the Backstreet Boys. This is like my 3rd run in with him in the last 3 months. I am fully expecting him to scream out “Stalker!” next time he sees me.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
The Way It Works or an Explanation for My Behavior.
Okay. So I know. I have been bad as of late with the boys and even a little boy crazy. It started with St. Patrick’s Day and has been carried on for the better part of this month. Some people I am sure have lost respect for me while others are just rolling their eyes and trying not to laugh. First things first though…an explanation for what I have been doing with all the boys. My group of friends is a straight group, sure there are a few other gays like Nick and Grover but for the most part it is all breeder with myself as the token. This is something of a problem at times because then when chance comes along I tend to dive in feet first. I don’t blame anyone for this situation; it is just the lay of the land and something I have to deal with. It is a paradox of sorts, if I want more gay friends then I have to not only work at finding them but also send less time and energy with my nearest and dearest. It would be different if they wanted to go out to gay bars or do gay things or even understood my problem but I can’t fault them for not understanding. This just sets the stage for some of my actions. St. Patrick’s Day was supposed to be a normal party for this group—what that means is that Kelly and Valeska would flirt with random boys, the usual suspects would get drunk and I would spend the whole night either avoiding Walker’s “straight” advances or avoiding Nick’s mixed bag of “let’s be friends” or “ignore you all night because we used to hook up back when I drank”. Neither one was promising so I just decided to ride the night out in a cute outfit with beer in one hand and witty comments in the other. Then entered Martine. Martine was a friend of the deejay and just a cute boy. I noticed him pretty quickly coming into the party but was busy and shy and a million other things that would prevent me for talking to him. As the party got into swing though, I noticed that he kept staring at me out of the corner of his eye. And while I thought this was kewl, I just wrote it off, mostly because I had a chance to be introduced but blew it off. Then came Walker. He showed at the party with Vedder and was just a little drunk. I decided to avoid him too and proceeded to use my normal party behavior. Say hi to the usual friends, place bets of the phone number-hooking up pool and just have a laugh. The plan was working well till I saw something that tripped my switch. After saying hi to Nick briefly, because I knew I was buzzed and knew how he felt about that stuff, I ducked into the kitchen to see if there was more food to bring out. Valeska was there and we talked briefly but the window distracted me. The sight of Walker being all flirty with Martine at the deejay booth. And something snapped. With a simple statement of “I’m not going to be cockblocked by a “straight” boy, I was off and running. I downed my beer and set off towards the two guys. I gave a quick hello to Walker, who kissed me on the cheek; I introduced myself to Martine and proceeded to get in Walker’s way. I flirted with both boys but always gave the upper hand to Martine. I did take Walker outback to yell at him for playing the drunken “I’m not gay but wanna go home with a boy” shite but this plan was undermined a little by letting him kiss me for a bit as well as several other things that straight guys don’t do. After detangling myself from that situation I went inside to get some soda and take a break. The night wouldn’t have been complete without running into Nick though and so we quickly exchanged some words. He asked why I was so quiet that night and I said, well I have been busy off flirting with boys and so that’s why you haven’t noticed me much. That said, I turned and let him in my wake. I wasn’t trying to be rude but honestly, I just want Nick to get over this passive/aggressive stance that he was been taking with me. It’s trying. Eventually, Walker was carted off for home and I just hung out with Martine and some other boys. We talked about music and Canada and a million odd things and I had fun. I apologized for Walker’s behavior—which seems to be what all his friends do so…--and Martine was cool with it. Then we had a very cute talk, which ended with a small little kiss. A peck really, but for me… This was new ground. Guys to flirt with that weren’t playing games or going to deny after the fact. Some people might say I was a little out of control that night—I did get a tiara for my behavior—but I think it was just one of the first times I was allowed to have fun with boys that I could have something real with. And that was ONLY Martine by the way. I don’t need any bad rumors started.
Okay. So I know. I have been bad as of late with the boys and even a little boy crazy. It started with St. Patrick’s Day and has been carried on for the better part of this month. Some people I am sure have lost respect for me while others are just rolling their eyes and trying not to laugh. First things first though…an explanation for what I have been doing with all the boys. My group of friends is a straight group, sure there are a few other gays like Nick and Grover but for the most part it is all breeder with myself as the token. This is something of a problem at times because then when chance comes along I tend to dive in feet first. I don’t blame anyone for this situation; it is just the lay of the land and something I have to deal with. It is a paradox of sorts, if I want more gay friends then I have to not only work at finding them but also send less time and energy with my nearest and dearest. It would be different if they wanted to go out to gay bars or do gay things or even understood my problem but I can’t fault them for not understanding. This just sets the stage for some of my actions. St. Patrick’s Day was supposed to be a normal party for this group—what that means is that Kelly and Valeska would flirt with random boys, the usual suspects would get drunk and I would spend the whole night either avoiding Walker’s “straight” advances or avoiding Nick’s mixed bag of “let’s be friends” or “ignore you all night because we used to hook up back when I drank”. Neither one was promising so I just decided to ride the night out in a cute outfit with beer in one hand and witty comments in the other. Then entered Martine. Martine was a friend of the deejay and just a cute boy. I noticed him pretty quickly coming into the party but was busy and shy and a million other things that would prevent me for talking to him. As the party got into swing though, I noticed that he kept staring at me out of the corner of his eye. And while I thought this was kewl, I just wrote it off, mostly because I had a chance to be introduced but blew it off. Then came Walker. He showed at the party with Vedder and was just a little drunk. I decided to avoid him too and proceeded to use my normal party behavior. Say hi to the usual friends, place bets of the phone number-hooking up pool and just have a laugh. The plan was working well till I saw something that tripped my switch. After saying hi to Nick briefly, because I knew I was buzzed and knew how he felt about that stuff, I ducked into the kitchen to see if there was more food to bring out. Valeska was there and we talked briefly but the window distracted me. The sight of Walker being all flirty with Martine at the deejay booth. And something snapped. With a simple statement of “I’m not going to be cockblocked by a “straight” boy, I was off and running. I downed my beer and set off towards the two guys. I gave a quick hello to Walker, who kissed me on the cheek; I introduced myself to Martine and proceeded to get in Walker’s way. I flirted with both boys but always gave the upper hand to Martine. I did take Walker outback to yell at him for playing the drunken “I’m not gay but wanna go home with a boy” shite but this plan was undermined a little by letting him kiss me for a bit as well as several other things that straight guys don’t do. After detangling myself from that situation I went inside to get some soda and take a break. The night wouldn’t have been complete without running into Nick though and so we quickly exchanged some words. He asked why I was so quiet that night and I said, well I have been busy off flirting with boys and so that’s why you haven’t noticed me much. That said, I turned and let him in my wake. I wasn’t trying to be rude but honestly, I just want Nick to get over this passive/aggressive stance that he was been taking with me. It’s trying. Eventually, Walker was carted off for home and I just hung out with Martine and some other boys. We talked about music and Canada and a million odd things and I had fun. I apologized for Walker’s behavior—which seems to be what all his friends do so…--and Martine was cool with it. Then we had a very cute talk, which ended with a small little kiss. A peck really, but for me… This was new ground. Guys to flirt with that weren’t playing games or going to deny after the fact. Some people might say I was a little out of control that night—I did get a tiara for my behavior—but I think it was just one of the first times I was allowed to have fun with boys that I could have something real with. And that was ONLY Martine by the way. I don’t need any bad rumors started.
The Way It Works or an Explanation for My Behavior.
Okay. So I know. I have been bad as of late with the boys and even a little boy crazy. It started with St. Patrick’s Day and has been carried on for the better part of this month. Some people I am sure have lost respect for me while others are just rolling their eyes and trying not to laugh. First things first though…an explanation for what I have been doing with all the boys.
My group of friends is a straight group, sure there are a few other gays like Nick and Grover but for the most part it is all breeder with myself as the token. This is something of a problem at times because then when chance comes along I tend to dive in feet first. I don’t blame anyone for this situation; it is just the lay of the land and something I have to deal with. It is a paradox of sorts, if I want more gay friends then I have to not only work at finding them but also send less time and energy with my nearest and dearest. It would be different if they wanted to go out to gay bars or do gay things or even understood my problem but I can’t fault them for not understanding. This just sets the stage for some of my actions.
St. Patrick’s Day was supposed to be a normal party for this group—what that means is that Kelly and Valeska would flirt with random boys, the usual suspects would get drunk and I would spend the whole night either avoiding Walker’s “straight” advances or avoiding Nick’s mixed bag of “let’s be friends” or “ignore you all night because we used to hook up back when I drank”. Neither one was promising so I just decided to ride the night out in a cute outfit with beer in one hand and witty comments in the other.
Then entered Martine. Martine was a friend of the deejay and just a cute boy. I noticed him pretty quickly coming into the party but was busy and shy and a million other things that would prevent me for talking to him. As the party got into swing though, I noticed that he kept staring at me out of the corner of his eye. And while I thought this was kewl, I just wrote it off, mostly because I had a chance to be introduced but blew it off.
Then came Walker. He showed at the party with Vedder and was just a little drunk. I decided to avoid him too and proceeded to use my normal party behavior. Say hi to the usual friends, place bets of the phone number-hooking up pool and just have a laugh. The plan was working well till I saw something that tripped my switch. After saying hi to Nick briefly, because I knew I was buzzed and knew how he felt about that stuff, I ducked into the kitchen to see if there was more food to bring out. Valeska was there and we talked briefly but the window distracted me. The sight of Walker being all flirty with Martine at the deejay booth. And something snapped.
With a simple statement of “I’m not going to be cockblocked by a “straight” boy, I was off and running. I downed my beer and set off towards the two guys. I gave a quick hello to Walker, who kissed me on the cheek; I introduced myself to Martine and proceeded to get in Walker’s way. I flirted with both boys but always gave the upper hand to Martine. I did take Walker outback to yell at him for playing the drunken “I’m not gay but wanna go home with a boy” shite but this plan was undermined a little by letting him kiss me for a bit as well as several other things that straight guys don’t do.
After detangling myself from that situation I went inside to get some soda and take a break. The night wouldn’t have been complete without running into Nick though and so we quickly exchanged some words. He asked why I was so quiet that night and I said, well I have been busy off flirting with boys and so that’s why you haven’t noticed me much. That said, I turned and let him in my wake. I wasn’t trying to be rude but honestly, I just want Nick to get over this passive/aggressive stance that he was been taking with me. It’s trying.
Eventually, Walker was carted off for home and I just hung out with Martine and some other boys. We talked about music and Canada and a million odd things and I had fun. I apologized for Walker’s behavior—which seems to be what all his friends do so…--and Martine was cool with it. Then we had a very cute talk, which ended with a small little kiss. A peck really, but for me… This was new ground. Guys to flirt with that weren’t playing games or going to deny after the fact. Some people might say I was a little out of control that night—I did get a tiara for my behavior—but I think it was just one of the first times I was allowed to have fun with boys that I could have something real with. And that was ONLY Martine by the way. I don’t need any bad rumors started.
Okay. So I know. I have been bad as of late with the boys and even a little boy crazy. It started with St. Patrick’s Day and has been carried on for the better part of this month. Some people I am sure have lost respect for me while others are just rolling their eyes and trying not to laugh. First things first though…an explanation for what I have been doing with all the boys.
My group of friends is a straight group, sure there are a few other gays like Nick and Grover but for the most part it is all breeder with myself as the token. This is something of a problem at times because then when chance comes along I tend to dive in feet first. I don’t blame anyone for this situation; it is just the lay of the land and something I have to deal with. It is a paradox of sorts, if I want more gay friends then I have to not only work at finding them but also send less time and energy with my nearest and dearest. It would be different if they wanted to go out to gay bars or do gay things or even understood my problem but I can’t fault them for not understanding. This just sets the stage for some of my actions.
St. Patrick’s Day was supposed to be a normal party for this group—what that means is that Kelly and Valeska would flirt with random boys, the usual suspects would get drunk and I would spend the whole night either avoiding Walker’s “straight” advances or avoiding Nick’s mixed bag of “let’s be friends” or “ignore you all night because we used to hook up back when I drank”. Neither one was promising so I just decided to ride the night out in a cute outfit with beer in one hand and witty comments in the other.
Then entered Martine. Martine was a friend of the deejay and just a cute boy. I noticed him pretty quickly coming into the party but was busy and shy and a million other things that would prevent me for talking to him. As the party got into swing though, I noticed that he kept staring at me out of the corner of his eye. And while I thought this was kewl, I just wrote it off, mostly because I had a chance to be introduced but blew it off.
Then came Walker. He showed at the party with Vedder and was just a little drunk. I decided to avoid him too and proceeded to use my normal party behavior. Say hi to the usual friends, place bets of the phone number-hooking up pool and just have a laugh. The plan was working well till I saw something that tripped my switch. After saying hi to Nick briefly, because I knew I was buzzed and knew how he felt about that stuff, I ducked into the kitchen to see if there was more food to bring out. Valeska was there and we talked briefly but the window distracted me. The sight of Walker being all flirty with Martine at the deejay booth. And something snapped.
With a simple statement of “I’m not going to be cockblocked by a “straight” boy, I was off and running. I downed my beer and set off towards the two guys. I gave a quick hello to Walker, who kissed me on the cheek; I introduced myself to Martine and proceeded to get in Walker’s way. I flirted with both boys but always gave the upper hand to Martine. I did take Walker outback to yell at him for playing the drunken “I’m not gay but wanna go home with a boy” shite but this plan was undermined a little by letting him kiss me for a bit as well as several other things that straight guys don’t do.
After detangling myself from that situation I went inside to get some soda and take a break. The night wouldn’t have been complete without running into Nick though and so we quickly exchanged some words. He asked why I was so quiet that night and I said, well I have been busy off flirting with boys and so that’s why you haven’t noticed me much. That said, I turned and let him in my wake. I wasn’t trying to be rude but honestly, I just want Nick to get over this passive/aggressive stance that he was been taking with me. It’s trying.
Eventually, Walker was carted off for home and I just hung out with Martine and some other boys. We talked about music and Canada and a million odd things and I had fun. I apologized for Walker’s behavior—which seems to be what all his friends do so…--and Martine was cool with it. Then we had a very cute talk, which ended with a small little kiss. A peck really, but for me… This was new ground. Guys to flirt with that weren’t playing games or going to deny after the fact. Some people might say I was a little out of control that night—I did get a tiara for my behavior—but I think it was just one of the first times I was allowed to have fun with boys that I could have something real with. And that was ONLY Martine by the way. I don’t need any bad rumors started.
Sunday, March 21, 2004
25 Reasons Gays Shouldn't Marry
25 Reasons Gay Marriage Should NOT be Allowed
1. Homosexuality is not natural, much like eyeglasses, polyester, and birth control. 2. Marriage is valuable because it produces children, which is why we deny marriage rights to infertile couples and old people.
3. Obviously, gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
4. Straight marriage, such as Britney Spears' 55-hour escapade, will be less meaningful if gay marriage is allowed.
5. Marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all: women are property, matches are arranged in childhood, blacks can't marry whites, Catholics can't marry Jews, divorce is illegal, and adultery is punishable by death.
6. Gay marriage should be decided by people, not the courts, because majority-elected legislatures have historically protected the rights of minorities.
7. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.
8. There is no separation between religious marriage and legal marriage, because there is no separation of church and state.
9. Devout, faithful Anglicans should never accept same-sex marriage, because it is an affront to the traditional family values upheld by Henry VIII and his wife, Catherine of Aragon, and his wife, Anne Boleyn, and his wife, Jane Seymour, and his wife, Anne of Cleves, and his wife, Catherine Howard, and his wife, Catherine Parr. They all knew the meaning of marriage and none of them lost their heads over the matter.
10. Married gay people will encourage others to be gay, in a way that unmarried gay people do not.
11. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because dogs have legal standing and can sign marriage contracts.
12. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why single parents are forbidden to raise children.
13. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and we could never adapt to new social norms because we haven't adapted to things like suburban malls and tupperware parties.
14. Legal marriage will inspire gays to mimic the straight traditions of spiritual commitment ceremonies and celebratory parties, which is currently impermissible for them to do and which they have never done before.
15. Marriage is designed to protect the well-being of children. Gay people do not need marriage because they never have children from prior relationships, artificial insemination or surrogacy, or adoption.
16. Civil unions are a good option because "separate but equal" institutions are always constitutional. In fact, compared with marriage, civil unions are so attractive that straight people are calling dibs on them.
17. A man should not be able to marry whomever a woman can marry, and a woman should not be able to marry whomever a man can marry, because in this country we do not believe in gender equality.
18. If gays marry, some of straight people's tax dollars would end up going to families whose structure they may find morally objectionable. Clearly, it is more just to continue taking gay people's tax dollars to support straight families, who are going to heaven regardless of what anyone else thinks of them.
19. Gays should hold off on the marriage question until society is more accepting of them, because they are not part of society.
20. The people's voice must be heard on this issue. Therefore, we must have a referendum on a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage, because we can't think of any other way to discuss the issue.
21. Each state should decide for itself whether gay marriage will be recognized, because there is no "full faith and credit" clause that requires states to recognize each other's institutions.
22. Gay marriage attempts to replace natural heterosexual instinct with a cultural institution. Morality demands that we subordinate institutionalized commitment to raw, unfettered, biological impulse.
23. Gay marriages could very well suffer maladies like domestic violence and substance abuse. That's why we invented the Quality Control department to pre-approve the righteousness of all marriage applicants, such as convicted serial killer Richard Ramirez who married a woman while on Death Row.
24. Those who support gay marriage aim to overthrow the dominant culture, as evidenced by their enthusiasm to participate in it.
25. The country can't afford to provide benefits for married gay couples. That's why Bush would never consider spending $150 million on programs that encourage more straight people to get married.
25 Reasons Gay Marriage Should NOT be Allowed
1. Homosexuality is not natural, much like eyeglasses, polyester, and birth control. 2. Marriage is valuable because it produces children, which is why we deny marriage rights to infertile couples and old people.
3. Obviously, gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
4. Straight marriage, such as Britney Spears' 55-hour escapade, will be less meaningful if gay marriage is allowed.
5. Marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all: women are property, matches are arranged in childhood, blacks can't marry whites, Catholics can't marry Jews, divorce is illegal, and adultery is punishable by death.
6. Gay marriage should be decided by people, not the courts, because majority-elected legislatures have historically protected the rights of minorities.
7. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.
8. There is no separation between religious marriage and legal marriage, because there is no separation of church and state.
9. Devout, faithful Anglicans should never accept same-sex marriage, because it is an affront to the traditional family values upheld by Henry VIII and his wife, Catherine of Aragon, and his wife, Anne Boleyn, and his wife, Jane Seymour, and his wife, Anne of Cleves, and his wife, Catherine Howard, and his wife, Catherine Parr. They all knew the meaning of marriage and none of them lost their heads over the matter.
10. Married gay people will encourage others to be gay, in a way that unmarried gay people do not.
11. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because dogs have legal standing and can sign marriage contracts.
12. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why single parents are forbidden to raise children.
13. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and we could never adapt to new social norms because we haven't adapted to things like suburban malls and tupperware parties.
14. Legal marriage will inspire gays to mimic the straight traditions of spiritual commitment ceremonies and celebratory parties, which is currently impermissible for them to do and which they have never done before.
15. Marriage is designed to protect the well-being of children. Gay people do not need marriage because they never have children from prior relationships, artificial insemination or surrogacy, or adoption.
16. Civil unions are a good option because "separate but equal" institutions are always constitutional. In fact, compared with marriage, civil unions are so attractive that straight people are calling dibs on them.
17. A man should not be able to marry whomever a woman can marry, and a woman should not be able to marry whomever a man can marry, because in this country we do not believe in gender equality.
18. If gays marry, some of straight people's tax dollars would end up going to families whose structure they may find morally objectionable. Clearly, it is more just to continue taking gay people's tax dollars to support straight families, who are going to heaven regardless of what anyone else thinks of them.
19. Gays should hold off on the marriage question until society is more accepting of them, because they are not part of society.
20. The people's voice must be heard on this issue. Therefore, we must have a referendum on a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage, because we can't think of any other way to discuss the issue.
21. Each state should decide for itself whether gay marriage will be recognized, because there is no "full faith and credit" clause that requires states to recognize each other's institutions.
22. Gay marriage attempts to replace natural heterosexual instinct with a cultural institution. Morality demands that we subordinate institutionalized commitment to raw, unfettered, biological impulse.
23. Gay marriages could very well suffer maladies like domestic violence and substance abuse. That's why we invented the Quality Control department to pre-approve the righteousness of all marriage applicants, such as convicted serial killer Richard Ramirez who married a woman while on Death Row.
24. Those who support gay marriage aim to overthrow the dominant culture, as evidenced by their enthusiasm to participate in it.
25. The country can't afford to provide benefits for married gay couples. That's why Bush would never consider spending $150 million on programs that encourage more straight people to get married.
25 Reasons Gay Marriage Should NOT be Allowed
1. Homosexuality is not natural, much like eyeglasses, polyester, and birth control.
2. Marriage is valuable because it produces children, which is why we deny marriage rights to infertile couples and old people.
3. Obviously, gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
4. Straight marriage, such as Britney Spears' 55-hour escapade, will be less meaningful if gay marriage is allowed.
5. Marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all: women are property, matches are arranged in childhood, blacks can't marry whites, Catholics can't marry Jews, divorce is illegal, and adultery is punishable by death.
6. Gay marriage should be decided by people, not the courts, because majority-elected legislatures have historically protected the rights of minorities.
7. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.
8. There is no separation between religious marriage and legal marriage, because there is no separation of church and state.
9. Devout, faithful Anglicans should never accept same-sex marriage, because it is an affront to the traditional family values upheld by Henry VIII and his wife, Catherine of Aragon, and his wife, Anne Boleyn, and his wife, Jane Seymour, and his wife, Anne of Cleves, and his wife, Catherine Howard, and his wife, Catherine Parr. They all knew the meaning of marriage and none of them lost their heads over the matter.
10. Married gay people will encourage others to be gay, in a way that unmarried gay people do not.
11. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because dogs have legal standing and can sign marriage contracts.
12. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why single parents are forbidden to raise children.
13. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and we could never adapt to new social norms because we haven't adapted to things like suburban malls and tupperware parties.
14. Legal marriage will inspire gays to mimic the straight traditions of spiritual commitment ceremonies and celebratory parties, which is currently impermissible for them to do and which they have never done before.
15. Marriage is designed to protect the well-being of children. Gay people do not need marriage because they never have children from prior relationships, artificial insemination or surrogacy, or adoption.
16. Civil unions are a good option because "separate but equal" institutions are always constitutional. In fact, compared with marriage, civil unions are so attractive that straight people are calling dibs on them.
17. A man should not be able to marry whomever a woman can marry, and a woman should not be able to marry whomever a man can marry, because in this country we do not believe in gender equality.
18. If gays marry, some of straight people's tax dollars would end up going to families whose structure they may find morally objectionable. Clearly, it is more just to continue taking gay people's tax dollars to support straight families, who are going to heaven regardless of what anyone else thinks of them.
19. Gays should hold off on the marriage question until society is more accepting of them, because they are not part of society.
20. The people's voice must be heard on this issue. Therefore, we must have a referendum on a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage, because we can't think of any other way to discuss the issue.
21. Each state should decide for itself whether gay marriage will be recognized, because there is no "full faith and credit" clause that requires states to recognize each other's institutions.
22. Gay marriage attempts to replace natural heterosexual instinct with a cultural institution. Morality demands that we subordinate institutionalized commitment to raw, unfettered, biological impulse.
23. Gay marriages could very well suffer maladies like domestic violence and substance abuse. That's why we invented the Quality Control department to pre-approve the righteousness of all marriage applicants, such as convicted serial killer Richard Ramirez who married a woman while on Death Row.
24. Those who support gay marriage aim to overthrow the dominant culture, as evidenced by their enthusiasm to participate in it.
25. The country can't afford to provide benefits for married gay couples. That's why Bush would never consider spending $150 million on programs that encourage more straight people to get married.
1. Homosexuality is not natural, much like eyeglasses, polyester, and birth control.
2. Marriage is valuable because it produces children, which is why we deny marriage rights to infertile couples and old people.
3. Obviously, gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
4. Straight marriage, such as Britney Spears' 55-hour escapade, will be less meaningful if gay marriage is allowed.
5. Marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all: women are property, matches are arranged in childhood, blacks can't marry whites, Catholics can't marry Jews, divorce is illegal, and adultery is punishable by death.
6. Gay marriage should be decided by people, not the courts, because majority-elected legislatures have historically protected the rights of minorities.
7. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.
8. There is no separation between religious marriage and legal marriage, because there is no separation of church and state.
9. Devout, faithful Anglicans should never accept same-sex marriage, because it is an affront to the traditional family values upheld by Henry VIII and his wife, Catherine of Aragon, and his wife, Anne Boleyn, and his wife, Jane Seymour, and his wife, Anne of Cleves, and his wife, Catherine Howard, and his wife, Catherine Parr. They all knew the meaning of marriage and none of them lost their heads over the matter.
10. Married gay people will encourage others to be gay, in a way that unmarried gay people do not.
11. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because dogs have legal standing and can sign marriage contracts.
12. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why single parents are forbidden to raise children.
13. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and we could never adapt to new social norms because we haven't adapted to things like suburban malls and tupperware parties.
14. Legal marriage will inspire gays to mimic the straight traditions of spiritual commitment ceremonies and celebratory parties, which is currently impermissible for them to do and which they have never done before.
15. Marriage is designed to protect the well-being of children. Gay people do not need marriage because they never have children from prior relationships, artificial insemination or surrogacy, or adoption.
16. Civil unions are a good option because "separate but equal" institutions are always constitutional. In fact, compared with marriage, civil unions are so attractive that straight people are calling dibs on them.
17. A man should not be able to marry whomever a woman can marry, and a woman should not be able to marry whomever a man can marry, because in this country we do not believe in gender equality.
18. If gays marry, some of straight people's tax dollars would end up going to families whose structure they may find morally objectionable. Clearly, it is more just to continue taking gay people's tax dollars to support straight families, who are going to heaven regardless of what anyone else thinks of them.
19. Gays should hold off on the marriage question until society is more accepting of them, because they are not part of society.
20. The people's voice must be heard on this issue. Therefore, we must have a referendum on a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage, because we can't think of any other way to discuss the issue.
21. Each state should decide for itself whether gay marriage will be recognized, because there is no "full faith and credit" clause that requires states to recognize each other's institutions.
22. Gay marriage attempts to replace natural heterosexual instinct with a cultural institution. Morality demands that we subordinate institutionalized commitment to raw, unfettered, biological impulse.
23. Gay marriages could very well suffer maladies like domestic violence and substance abuse. That's why we invented the Quality Control department to pre-approve the righteousness of all marriage applicants, such as convicted serial killer Richard Ramirez who married a woman while on Death Row.
24. Those who support gay marriage aim to overthrow the dominant culture, as evidenced by their enthusiasm to participate in it.
25. The country can't afford to provide benefits for married gay couples. That's why Bush would never consider spending $150 million on programs that encourage more straight people to get married.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
I never.....lol
Body: TO PLAY I NEVER. PUT AN (x) IN FRONT OF THE THINGS THAT YOU HAVE NEVER DONE BEFORE AND A (_) ON THE THINGS THAT YOU HAVE DONE AT LEAST ONCE. ADD A "I NEVER" OF YOUR OWN (_)
I have stolen money from my parents (_)
I have taken money for sex(_)
I have had sex while watching TV (_)
I have tried Acid or Ecstasy (X)
I have purchased a Celine Dion CD (X)
I have bought atleast 3 animated Disney movies (_)
I have done a "triple kiss" before (X)
I have performed oral sex in public (X)
I have started a fist fight in public (X)
I have had sex in my parent's bed when they weren't there (x)
I have started arguments with lovers/friends out of boredom (X)
I have had oral sex in a movie theatre or on a pool table (_)
I have been so drunk i forgot my own name (_)
I have puked from drinking and drank more anyways (X)
I have used cheezy pick-up lines to talk to a girl/guy (_)
I have faked an orgasm (_)
I have purchased a fake ID (_)
I have had a one night stand and didn't know their name (_)
I have had a one night stand and didn't even like them (x)
I have masturbated in bathrooms at work (X)
I have masturbated while driving (_)
I have gone down on someone while they were driving (X)
I have blown large amounts of cash at strip joints (X)
I have been naked in public (X)
I have wrecked someone else's car (X)
I have been high at a concert (_)
I have been in a mosh pit (_)
I have given someone "sympathy sex" (x)
I have stolen more than $10 from random people or places
Body: TO PLAY I NEVER. PUT AN (x) IN FRONT OF THE THINGS THAT YOU HAVE NEVER DONE BEFORE AND A (_) ON THE THINGS THAT YOU HAVE DONE AT LEAST ONCE. ADD A "I NEVER" OF YOUR OWN (_)
I have stolen money from my parents (_)
I have taken money for sex(_)
I have had sex while watching TV (_)
I have tried Acid or Ecstasy (X)
I have purchased a Celine Dion CD (X)
I have bought atleast 3 animated Disney movies (_)
I have done a "triple kiss" before (X)
I have performed oral sex in public (X)
I have started a fist fight in public (X)
I have had sex in my parent's bed when they weren't there (x)
I have started arguments with lovers/friends out of boredom (X)
I have had oral sex in a movie theatre or on a pool table (_)
I have been so drunk i forgot my own name (_)
I have puked from drinking and drank more anyways (X)
I have used cheezy pick-up lines to talk to a girl/guy (_)
I have faked an orgasm (_)
I have purchased a fake ID (_)
I have had a one night stand and didn't know their name (_)
I have had a one night stand and didn't even like them (x)
I have masturbated in bathrooms at work (X)
I have masturbated while driving (_)
I have gone down on someone while they were driving (X)
I have blown large amounts of cash at strip joints (X)
I have been naked in public (X)
I have wrecked someone else's car (X)
I have been high at a concert (_)
I have been in a mosh pit (_)
I have given someone "sympathy sex" (x)
I have stolen more than $10 from random people or places
Friday, March 19, 2004
Thursday, March 18, 2004
The More You Know...
Natal Year number: 7
Although Rory may have taken a considerable time to reach maturity, he is nevertheless a quick thinker whose ideas change as rapidly as his conversation. He's an individual who wants to be liked, and as such finds it hard to refuse requests. For the same reason he dislikes arguments, and wherever possible will compromise to avoid conflict. Not the sort of individual to be employed in litigation, but excellent in mediation.
Natal Month number: 2
Compassionate and supportive of others, Rory is something of a perfectionist who will find it hard to delegate even routine tasks. Rory is hard-working and good with details, but to get the best out of him, Rory needs to know that in the end his efforts will be properly rewarded and acknowledged.
Natal House number: 1
With a positive approach to life, Rory has the ability to work on his own - a quality that will enable him to develop his creative skills. Coupled with his desire to travel and the ability to listen to what others have to say, Rory might best be employed as a travel writer or journalist.
Comments based on Western Grid
11
Rory is a balanced individual who can understand and appreciate the views of others as well as his own. He can express himself fluently, and with persuasive conviction, whilst taking account of opposing views. This means that Rory will get on very well with colleagues at work, both senior and junior, as well as clients, customers, suppliers and external agencies.
5
Well-balanced, with an understanding and compassionate nature, Rory is a natural leader who can inspire others. But he needs a certain amount of freedom at work and at home. With a compassionate and caring nature, and with the ability to get on well with others, Rory will be a strong member of any team and will provide solid inspiration and support to his colleagues.
7
Rory will find life's lessons hard to learn. He will suffer from loss (of possessions or those he loves) before questioning the cause of that loss. It is likely that Rory will develop a faith of some sort, and although it need not necessarily be a religious faith, it will nevertheless be something that he holds onto against all the evidence. Potential employers need to find out what that faith entails.
8
Good with details and with a methodical approach, Rory nevertheless is someone who enjoys constant new challenges to maintain his interest. He is a methodical individual with attention to detail, but is inclined to leave tasks unfinished if his active mind alights on something of greater interest. Routine tasks that fail to challenge his intellect are at greatest risk, so Rory needs a job that offers variety.
99
Enjoying high intelligence, Rory is inclined to look down on those who are not as intelligent as he. Hence he does not mix well with society in general, and in particular with different social strata. Yet Rory is very ambitious to improve his lot, and will constantly strive for a better standard of living. He also possesses strong humanitarian ideals that may find expression in charitable work.
[The Arrow of Activity: the numbers 7, 8 and 9] Enjoying the outdoors, Rory is someone who will perform best by being busy. He dislikes confined spaces, and needs both physical and mental exercise. A good walk in fresh air is an intellectual catalyst like no other to Rory, whose need to be constantly occupied is an asset to any employer.
[The Arrow of Determination: the numbers 1, 5 and 9] Determined and persistent, Rory has the patience to wait until he has achieved his goal. He enjoys a progressive and enterpreneurial approach, and as such, will be an asset to any employer. If the number 4 (in the Western Grid) is missing, he will be inclined to lose his temper on occasions.
Comments based on Chinese Grid
11
Rory will be reasonably successful in financial terms, and enjoy a degree of luck.
3
Unless Rory also has in the Chinese version either the numbers 5 and 7, or the numbers 4 and 8, he will be hypersensitive and prone to stress-related problems.
5
Emotionally well-balanced, Rory is not too intense, and will reach the right decisions. However, with the numbers 2 and 3 in the Chinese version, the balance may be upset.
77
Although Rory has spiritual leanings, he prefers the ceremony of religion to the faith that underpins it. With 3 ones (in the Chinese version) Rory will also be blessed with good luck.
9
Although Rory is ambitious, his ambition is tempered with humanitarian ideals.
[The Arrow of Willpower: The numbers 1, 5 and 9] Rory is somewhat stubborn and very determined. Holding strong opinions that he will voice without reservation, he will nevertheless reach his goals through persistent hard work.
[The Arrow of Spirituality: The numbers 3, 5 and 7] Serious and calm, Rory enjoys an inner strength that supports his faith. He may develop an interest in music, and if so, should be encouraged to master an instrument in early life. Later in life, Rory will become a dependable and respected figure in the community.
Natal Year number: 7
Although Rory may have taken a considerable time to reach maturity, he is nevertheless a quick thinker whose ideas change as rapidly as his conversation. He's an individual who wants to be liked, and as such finds it hard to refuse requests. For the same reason he dislikes arguments, and wherever possible will compromise to avoid conflict. Not the sort of individual to be employed in litigation, but excellent in mediation.
Natal Month number: 2
Compassionate and supportive of others, Rory is something of a perfectionist who will find it hard to delegate even routine tasks. Rory is hard-working and good with details, but to get the best out of him, Rory needs to know that in the end his efforts will be properly rewarded and acknowledged.
Natal House number: 1
With a positive approach to life, Rory has the ability to work on his own - a quality that will enable him to develop his creative skills. Coupled with his desire to travel and the ability to listen to what others have to say, Rory might best be employed as a travel writer or journalist.
Comments based on Western Grid
11
Rory is a balanced individual who can understand and appreciate the views of others as well as his own. He can express himself fluently, and with persuasive conviction, whilst taking account of opposing views. This means that Rory will get on very well with colleagues at work, both senior and junior, as well as clients, customers, suppliers and external agencies.
5
Well-balanced, with an understanding and compassionate nature, Rory is a natural leader who can inspire others. But he needs a certain amount of freedom at work and at home. With a compassionate and caring nature, and with the ability to get on well with others, Rory will be a strong member of any team and will provide solid inspiration and support to his colleagues.
7
Rory will find life's lessons hard to learn. He will suffer from loss (of possessions or those he loves) before questioning the cause of that loss. It is likely that Rory will develop a faith of some sort, and although it need not necessarily be a religious faith, it will nevertheless be something that he holds onto against all the evidence. Potential employers need to find out what that faith entails.
8
Good with details and with a methodical approach, Rory nevertheless is someone who enjoys constant new challenges to maintain his interest. He is a methodical individual with attention to detail, but is inclined to leave tasks unfinished if his active mind alights on something of greater interest. Routine tasks that fail to challenge his intellect are at greatest risk, so Rory needs a job that offers variety.
99
Enjoying high intelligence, Rory is inclined to look down on those who are not as intelligent as he. Hence he does not mix well with society in general, and in particular with different social strata. Yet Rory is very ambitious to improve his lot, and will constantly strive for a better standard of living. He also possesses strong humanitarian ideals that may find expression in charitable work.
[The Arrow of Activity: the numbers 7, 8 and 9] Enjoying the outdoors, Rory is someone who will perform best by being busy. He dislikes confined spaces, and needs both physical and mental exercise. A good walk in fresh air is an intellectual catalyst like no other to Rory, whose need to be constantly occupied is an asset to any employer.
[The Arrow of Determination: the numbers 1, 5 and 9] Determined and persistent, Rory has the patience to wait until he has achieved his goal. He enjoys a progressive and enterpreneurial approach, and as such, will be an asset to any employer. If the number 4 (in the Western Grid) is missing, he will be inclined to lose his temper on occasions.
Comments based on Chinese Grid
11
Rory will be reasonably successful in financial terms, and enjoy a degree of luck.
3
Unless Rory also has in the Chinese version either the numbers 5 and 7, or the numbers 4 and 8, he will be hypersensitive and prone to stress-related problems.
5
Emotionally well-balanced, Rory is not too intense, and will reach the right decisions. However, with the numbers 2 and 3 in the Chinese version, the balance may be upset.
77
Although Rory has spiritual leanings, he prefers the ceremony of religion to the faith that underpins it. With 3 ones (in the Chinese version) Rory will also be blessed with good luck.
9
Although Rory is ambitious, his ambition is tempered with humanitarian ideals.
[The Arrow of Willpower: The numbers 1, 5 and 9] Rory is somewhat stubborn and very determined. Holding strong opinions that he will voice without reservation, he will nevertheless reach his goals through persistent hard work.
[The Arrow of Spirituality: The numbers 3, 5 and 7] Serious and calm, Rory enjoys an inner strength that supports his faith. He may develop an interest in music, and if so, should be encouraged to master an instrument in early life. Later in life, Rory will become a dependable and respected figure in the community.
The More You Know
Natal Year number: 7 Although Rory may have taken a considerable time to reach maturity, he is nevertheless a quick thinker whose ideas change as rapidly as his conversation. He's an individual who wants to be liked, and as such finds it hard to refuse requests. For the same reason he dislikes arguments, and wherever possible will compromise to avoid conflict. Not the sort of individual to be employed in litigation, but excellent in mediation.
Natal Month number: 2 Compassionate and supportive of others, Rory is something of a perfectionist who will find it hard to delegate even routine tasks. Rory is hard-working and good with details, but to get the best out of him, Rory needs to know that in the end his efforts will be properly rewarded and acknowledged.
Natal House number: 1 With a positive approach to life, Rory has the ability to work on his own - a quality that will enable him to develop his creative skills. Coupled with his desire to travel and the ability to listen to what others have to say, Rory might best be employed as a travel writer or journalist.
Comments based on Western Grid 11 Rory is a balanced individual who can understand and appreciate the views of others as well as his own. He can express himself fluently, and with persuasive conviction, whilst taking account of opposing views. This means that Rory will get on very well with colleagues at work, both senior and junior, as well as clients, customers, suppliers and external agencies.
5 Well-balanced, with an understanding and compassionate nature, Rory is a natural leader who can inspire others. But he needs a certain amount of freedom at work and at home. With a compassionate and caring nature, and with the ability to get on well with others, Rory will be a strong member of any team and will provide solid inspiration and support to his colleagues.
7 Rory will find life's lessons hard to learn. He will suffer from loss (of possessions or those he loves) before questioning the cause of that loss. It is likely that Rory will develop a faith of some sort, and although it need not necessarily be a religious faith, it will nevertheless be something that he holds onto against all the evidence. Potential employers need to find out what that faith entails.
8 Good with details and with a methodical approach, Rory nevertheless is someone who enjoys constant new challenges to maintain his interest. He is a methodical individual with attention to detail, but is inclined to leave tasks unfinished if his active mind alights on something of greater interest. Routine tasks that fail to challenge his intellect are at greatest risk, so Rory needs a job that offers variety.
99 Enjoying high intelligence, Rory is inclined to look down on those who are not as intelligent as he. Hence he does not mix well with society in general, and in particular with different social strata. Yet Rory is very ambitious to improve his lot, and will constantly strive for a better standard of living. He also possesses strong humanitarian ideals that may find expression in charitable work.
[The Arrow of Activity: the numbers 7, 8 and 9] Enjoying the outdoors, Rory is someone who will perform best by being busy. He dislikes confined spaces, and needs both physical and mental exercise. A good walk in fresh air is an intellectual catalyst like no other to Rory, whose need to be constantly occupied is an asset to any employer.
[The Arrow of Determination: the numbers 1, 5 and 9] Determined and persistent, Rory has the patience to wait until he has achieved his goal. He enjoys a progressive and enterpreneurial approach, and as such, will be an asset to any employer. If the number 4 (in the Western Grid) is missing, he will be inclined to lose his temper on occasions. Comments based on Chinese Grid 11 Rory will be reasonably successful in financial terms, and enjoy a degree of luck. 3 Unless Rory also has in the Chinese version either the numbers 5 and 7, or the numbers 4 and 8, he will be hypersensitive and prone to stress-related problems.
5 Emotionally well-balanced, Rory is not too intense, and will reach the right decisions. However, with the numbers 2 and 3 in the Chinese version, the balance may be upset. 77 Although Rory has spiritual leanings, he prefers the ceremony of religion to the faith that underpins it. With 3 ones (in the Chinese version) Rory will also be blessed with good luck.
9 Although Rory is ambitious, his ambition is tempered with humanitarian ideals.
[The Arrow of Willpower: The numbers 1, 5 and 9] Rory is somewhat stubborn and very determined. Holding strong opinions that he will voice without reservation, he will nevertheless reach his goals through persistent hard work.
[The Arrow of Spirituality: The numbers 3, 5 and 7] Serious and calm, Rory enjoys an inner strength that supports his faith. He may develop an interest in music, and if so, should be encouraged to master an instrument in early life. Later in life, Rory will become a dependable and respected figure in the community.
Natal Year number: 7 Although Rory may have taken a considerable time to reach maturity, he is nevertheless a quick thinker whose ideas change as rapidly as his conversation. He's an individual who wants to be liked, and as such finds it hard to refuse requests. For the same reason he dislikes arguments, and wherever possible will compromise to avoid conflict. Not the sort of individual to be employed in litigation, but excellent in mediation.
Natal Month number: 2 Compassionate and supportive of others, Rory is something of a perfectionist who will find it hard to delegate even routine tasks. Rory is hard-working and good with details, but to get the best out of him, Rory needs to know that in the end his efforts will be properly rewarded and acknowledged.
Natal House number: 1 With a positive approach to life, Rory has the ability to work on his own - a quality that will enable him to develop his creative skills. Coupled with his desire to travel and the ability to listen to what others have to say, Rory might best be employed as a travel writer or journalist.
Comments based on Western Grid 11 Rory is a balanced individual who can understand and appreciate the views of others as well as his own. He can express himself fluently, and with persuasive conviction, whilst taking account of opposing views. This means that Rory will get on very well with colleagues at work, both senior and junior, as well as clients, customers, suppliers and external agencies.
5 Well-balanced, with an understanding and compassionate nature, Rory is a natural leader who can inspire others. But he needs a certain amount of freedom at work and at home. With a compassionate and caring nature, and with the ability to get on well with others, Rory will be a strong member of any team and will provide solid inspiration and support to his colleagues.
7 Rory will find life's lessons hard to learn. He will suffer from loss (of possessions or those he loves) before questioning the cause of that loss. It is likely that Rory will develop a faith of some sort, and although it need not necessarily be a religious faith, it will nevertheless be something that he holds onto against all the evidence. Potential employers need to find out what that faith entails.
8 Good with details and with a methodical approach, Rory nevertheless is someone who enjoys constant new challenges to maintain his interest. He is a methodical individual with attention to detail, but is inclined to leave tasks unfinished if his active mind alights on something of greater interest. Routine tasks that fail to challenge his intellect are at greatest risk, so Rory needs a job that offers variety.
99 Enjoying high intelligence, Rory is inclined to look down on those who are not as intelligent as he. Hence he does not mix well with society in general, and in particular with different social strata. Yet Rory is very ambitious to improve his lot, and will constantly strive for a better standard of living. He also possesses strong humanitarian ideals that may find expression in charitable work.
[The Arrow of Activity: the numbers 7, 8 and 9] Enjoying the outdoors, Rory is someone who will perform best by being busy. He dislikes confined spaces, and needs both physical and mental exercise. A good walk in fresh air is an intellectual catalyst like no other to Rory, whose need to be constantly occupied is an asset to any employer.
[The Arrow of Determination: the numbers 1, 5 and 9] Determined and persistent, Rory has the patience to wait until he has achieved his goal. He enjoys a progressive and enterpreneurial approach, and as such, will be an asset to any employer. If the number 4 (in the Western Grid) is missing, he will be inclined to lose his temper on occasions. Comments based on Chinese Grid 11 Rory will be reasonably successful in financial terms, and enjoy a degree of luck. 3 Unless Rory also has in the Chinese version either the numbers 5 and 7, or the numbers 4 and 8, he will be hypersensitive and prone to stress-related problems.
5 Emotionally well-balanced, Rory is not too intense, and will reach the right decisions. However, with the numbers 2 and 3 in the Chinese version, the balance may be upset. 77 Although Rory has spiritual leanings, he prefers the ceremony of religion to the faith that underpins it. With 3 ones (in the Chinese version) Rory will also be blessed with good luck.
9 Although Rory is ambitious, his ambition is tempered with humanitarian ideals.
[The Arrow of Willpower: The numbers 1, 5 and 9] Rory is somewhat stubborn and very determined. Holding strong opinions that he will voice without reservation, he will nevertheless reach his goals through persistent hard work.
[The Arrow of Spirituality: The numbers 3, 5 and 7] Serious and calm, Rory enjoys an inner strength that supports his faith. He may develop an interest in music, and if so, should be encouraged to master an instrument in early life. Later in life, Rory will become a dependable and respected figure in the community.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Incognito Internet Intercourse or III…
By Rory Lapointe
I’m a sexual guy. I admit it freely with the openness of a Jerry Springer guest. I like sex, have fun with sex and have considered sex pretty much each time it has been brought to my attention. I make no apologizes for my behavior and will even discuss it at length after a few dirty martinis and the prerequisite smoke break. I have had fuck buddies, threesomes and even an open relationship which isn’t never really as open or relationship sounding as it might seem. But there is one thing that I don’t openly discuss, something that I keep out of conversation for fear of sounding like I have gone too far. Craigslist sexual partners. There seems to be some type of taboo about this stuff—kind of like how you don’t own up to internet dating till someone catches your profile and tells all your friends. The only reason that I’m even owning up to this secret behavior is because of my friend Merry. She is a sexy, curvy, sexual Mountie type of girl—she always gets her man. We were rehashing recent boy developments and were complaining about the lack of good catches in our group of friends and friends of friends. The conversation—as always—turned to sex talk and we both realized it had been a bit since we had done anything that involved a second party. Of course, I was lying, I had just hooked up with a guy I met via Craigslist who had a girlfriend but really enjoyed hot boy sex when he was back in the army. My hair was still wet from the shower I had taken before joining Merry for drinks. But it’s not like something I was likely to cop to. We sat in silence for a beat, getting fresh drinks and flipping through magazines when I caught Merry staring off into the distance. This happens from time to time with us and is always a sign of a big secret. Something we are eager to spill but aren’t sure how to bring it to the table. I went and had a smoke so Merry could work up to her big announcement. “I met up with a guy from Craigslist.” The sentence was clear but I didn’t want to take the bait to easily. I congratulated Merry on having a date and she shot me a death stare. “You know what I mean…” I confessed I did and got details. Turns out she was bored and just playing around the internet one night and found herself reading some funny cute personal ads and just dived in. Of course I confessed myself and we both had a laugh about the entire scenario and our reluctance to talk about it. As I thought about it later that night I wondered why we, two sexually liberated under thirtysomethings, were so embarrassed. I mean, we both have always been open books about our conquests and experiences and here we were like two high sophomores talking about getting to three base with a boy. What was it about the Craigslist experience that had us biting our lips and holding back? So I thought back to all the times that I had done the incognito internet intercourse thing. What I realized was that each of the guys I had met had their own reasons for the secrecy of the internet. There was the one whose boyfriend was out of town, the aspiring actor who couldn’t ever go to a gay bar for fear of being seen and the married guy who just believed men gave better head. What these guys all had in common was a fear of going public with their secret desire. Places like Craigslist allow us to fulfill our freakiest behavior without any work—just write an ad of explicit nature and post it with having to leave home. There’s no drinks to buy, no cover to pay, no danger of being outed for whatever it is your heart desires. Just a stranger who is in the mood and doesn’t really care what you want outside of an orgasm and vise versa. And even for the handful of us who do like casual sex, even we know how odd and dirty this trend is. You barely see a picture, talk maybe once or twice but only to exchange addresses or contact numbers and that’s about it. Sex at your door in under an hour. You can even fit it between loads of laundry or have it waiting after work. And no one has to know. Some people might say this has always been apart of the internet—that it is part of what makes the information superhighway so popular. That you can meet anyone and swap some info easily and meet lots of new people to play with. But the difference is that these new places are very in your face—they tell you what they want and nothing else. There is little connection of any type. Just sex for sex’s sake. And while this behavior has been around, it has never been so easy, so incognito, so fast. Someone you know is probably doing this right now, at work or at home or the cyber café down the street. The temptation is so overwhelming because it so easy to not be caught, to not have to face these partners ever again that even the most shy can just go out there and get some. I know people who have separate e-mail accounts for type of stuff, aliases and other ways to cover their tracks. I guess the real question is, how right is this? I mean, I may not be the most conventional of people but even I know when it has gone too far. Should we be proud of how much further we have come sexually as a society when we use faceless, emotionless avenues to pursue our desires? Have we become so jaded and disconnected from true human interaction that it is okay to just have sex delivered by a random stranger to your door? I’m not really sure what it means. But is something to think about the next time that Merry and I head off to happy hour at some random bar where really men have to work to get our attention. At least if we do decide to go home with them, we’ll know that it is us that they really want—not just somebody with a computer and desire.
By Rory Lapointe
I’m a sexual guy. I admit it freely with the openness of a Jerry Springer guest. I like sex, have fun with sex and have considered sex pretty much each time it has been brought to my attention. I make no apologizes for my behavior and will even discuss it at length after a few dirty martinis and the prerequisite smoke break. I have had fuck buddies, threesomes and even an open relationship which isn’t never really as open or relationship sounding as it might seem. But there is one thing that I don’t openly discuss, something that I keep out of conversation for fear of sounding like I have gone too far. Craigslist sexual partners. There seems to be some type of taboo about this stuff—kind of like how you don’t own up to internet dating till someone catches your profile and tells all your friends. The only reason that I’m even owning up to this secret behavior is because of my friend Merry. She is a sexy, curvy, sexual Mountie type of girl—she always gets her man. We were rehashing recent boy developments and were complaining about the lack of good catches in our group of friends and friends of friends. The conversation—as always—turned to sex talk and we both realized it had been a bit since we had done anything that involved a second party. Of course, I was lying, I had just hooked up with a guy I met via Craigslist who had a girlfriend but really enjoyed hot boy sex when he was back in the army. My hair was still wet from the shower I had taken before joining Merry for drinks. But it’s not like something I was likely to cop to. We sat in silence for a beat, getting fresh drinks and flipping through magazines when I caught Merry staring off into the distance. This happens from time to time with us and is always a sign of a big secret. Something we are eager to spill but aren’t sure how to bring it to the table. I went and had a smoke so Merry could work up to her big announcement. “I met up with a guy from Craigslist.” The sentence was clear but I didn’t want to take the bait to easily. I congratulated Merry on having a date and she shot me a death stare. “You know what I mean…” I confessed I did and got details. Turns out she was bored and just playing around the internet one night and found herself reading some funny cute personal ads and just dived in. Of course I confessed myself and we both had a laugh about the entire scenario and our reluctance to talk about it. As I thought about it later that night I wondered why we, two sexually liberated under thirtysomethings, were so embarrassed. I mean, we both have always been open books about our conquests and experiences and here we were like two high sophomores talking about getting to three base with a boy. What was it about the Craigslist experience that had us biting our lips and holding back? So I thought back to all the times that I had done the incognito internet intercourse thing. What I realized was that each of the guys I had met had their own reasons for the secrecy of the internet. There was the one whose boyfriend was out of town, the aspiring actor who couldn’t ever go to a gay bar for fear of being seen and the married guy who just believed men gave better head. What these guys all had in common was a fear of going public with their secret desire. Places like Craigslist allow us to fulfill our freakiest behavior without any work—just write an ad of explicit nature and post it with having to leave home. There’s no drinks to buy, no cover to pay, no danger of being outed for whatever it is your heart desires. Just a stranger who is in the mood and doesn’t really care what you want outside of an orgasm and vise versa. And even for the handful of us who do like casual sex, even we know how odd and dirty this trend is. You barely see a picture, talk maybe once or twice but only to exchange addresses or contact numbers and that’s about it. Sex at your door in under an hour. You can even fit it between loads of laundry or have it waiting after work. And no one has to know. Some people might say this has always been apart of the internet—that it is part of what makes the information superhighway so popular. That you can meet anyone and swap some info easily and meet lots of new people to play with. But the difference is that these new places are very in your face—they tell you what they want and nothing else. There is little connection of any type. Just sex for sex’s sake. And while this behavior has been around, it has never been so easy, so incognito, so fast. Someone you know is probably doing this right now, at work or at home or the cyber café down the street. The temptation is so overwhelming because it so easy to not be caught, to not have to face these partners ever again that even the most shy can just go out there and get some. I know people who have separate e-mail accounts for type of stuff, aliases and other ways to cover their tracks. I guess the real question is, how right is this? I mean, I may not be the most conventional of people but even I know when it has gone too far. Should we be proud of how much further we have come sexually as a society when we use faceless, emotionless avenues to pursue our desires? Have we become so jaded and disconnected from true human interaction that it is okay to just have sex delivered by a random stranger to your door? I’m not really sure what it means. But is something to think about the next time that Merry and I head off to happy hour at some random bar where really men have to work to get our attention. At least if we do decide to go home with them, we’ll know that it is us that they really want—not just somebody with a computer and desire.
Confessions of a Gap: Incognito Internet Intercourse or III…
By Rory Lapointe
I’m a sexual guy. I admit it freely with the openness of a Jerry Springer guest. I like sex, have fun with sex and have considered sex pretty much each time it has been brought to my attention. I make no apologizes for my behavior and will even discuss it at length after a few dirty martinis and the prerequisite smoke break. I have had fuck buddies, threesomes and even an open relationship which isn’t never really as open or relationship sounding as it might seem.
But there is one thing that I don’t openly discuss, something that I keep out of conversation for fear of sounding like I have gone too far. Craigslist sexual partners. There seems to be some type of taboo about this stuff—kind of like how you don’t own up to internet dating till someone catches your profile and tells all your friends.
The only reason that I’m even owning up to this secret behavior is because of my friend Merry. She is a sexy, curvy, sexual Mountie type of girl—she always gets her man. We were rehashing recent boy developments and were complaining about the lack of good catches in our group of friends and friends of friends. The conversation—as always—turned to sex talk and we both realized it had been a bit since we had done anything that involved a second party.
Of course, I was lying, I had just hooked up with a guy I met via Craigslist who had a girlfriend but really enjoyed hot boy sex when he was back in the army. My hair was still wet from the shower I had taken before joining Merry for drinks. But it’s not like something I was likely to cop to.
We sat in silence for a beat, getting fresh drinks and flipping through magazines when I caught Merry staring off into the distance. This happens from time to time with us and is always a sign of a big secret. Something we are eager to spill but aren’t sure how to bring it to the table. I went and had a smoke so Merry could work up to her big announcement.
“I met up with a guy from Craigslist.” The sentence was clear but I didn’t want to take the bait to easily. I congratulated Merry on having a date and she shot me a death stare. “You know what I mean…” I confessed I did and got details. Turns out she was bored and just playing around the internet one night and found herself reading some funny cute personal ads and just dived in. Of course I confessed myself and we both had a laugh about the entire scenario and our reluctance to talk about it.
As I thought about it later that night I wondered why we, two sexually liberated under thirtysomethings, were so embarrassed. I mean, we both have always been open books about our conquests and experiences and here we were like two high sophomores talking about getting to three base with a boy. What was it about the Craigslist experience that had us biting our lips and holding back? So I thought back to all the times that I had done the incognito internet intercourse thing.
What I realized was that each of the guys I had met had their own reasons for the secrecy of the internet. There was the one whose boyfriend was out of town, the aspiring actor who couldn’t ever go to a gay bar for fear of being seen and the married guy who just believed men gave better head. What these guys all had in common was a fear of going public with their secret desire.
Places like Craigslist allow us to fulfill our freakiest behavior without any work—just write an ad of explicit nature and post it with having to leave home. There’s no drinks to buy, no cover to pay, no danger of being outed for whatever it is your heart desires. Just a stranger who is in the mood and doesn’t really care what you want outside of an orgasm and vise versa.
And even for the handful of us who do like casual sex, even we know how odd and dirty this trend is. You barely see a picture, talk maybe once or twice but only to exchange addresses or contact numbers and that’s about it. Sex at your door in under an hour. You can even fit it between loads of laundry or have it waiting after work. And no one has to know.
Some people might say this has always been apart of the internet—that it is part of what makes the information superhighway so popular. That you can meet anyone and swap some info easily and meet lots of new people to play with. But the difference is that these new places are very in your face—they tell you what they want and nothing else. There is little connection of any type. Just sex for sex’s sake.
And while this behavior has been around, it has never been so easy, so incognito, so fast. Someone you know is probably doing this right now, at work or at home or the cyber café down the street. The temptation is so overwhelming because it so easy to not be caught, to not have to face these partners ever again that even the most shy can just go out there and get some. I know people who have separate e-mail accounts for type of stuff, aliases and other ways to cover their tracks.
I guess the real question is, how right is this? I mean, I may not be the most conventional of people but even I know when it has gone too far. Should we be proud of how much further we have come sexually as a society when we use faceless, emotionless avenues to pursue our desires? Have we become so jaded and disconnected from true human interaction that it is okay to just have sex delivered by a random stranger to your door?
I’m not really sure what it means. But is something to think about the next time that Merry and I head off to happy hour at some random bar where really men have to work to get our attention. At least if we do decide to go home with them, we’ll know that it is us that they really want—not just somebody with a computer and desire.
By Rory Lapointe
I’m a sexual guy. I admit it freely with the openness of a Jerry Springer guest. I like sex, have fun with sex and have considered sex pretty much each time it has been brought to my attention. I make no apologizes for my behavior and will even discuss it at length after a few dirty martinis and the prerequisite smoke break. I have had fuck buddies, threesomes and even an open relationship which isn’t never really as open or relationship sounding as it might seem.
But there is one thing that I don’t openly discuss, something that I keep out of conversation for fear of sounding like I have gone too far. Craigslist sexual partners. There seems to be some type of taboo about this stuff—kind of like how you don’t own up to internet dating till someone catches your profile and tells all your friends.
The only reason that I’m even owning up to this secret behavior is because of my friend Merry. She is a sexy, curvy, sexual Mountie type of girl—she always gets her man. We were rehashing recent boy developments and were complaining about the lack of good catches in our group of friends and friends of friends. The conversation—as always—turned to sex talk and we both realized it had been a bit since we had done anything that involved a second party.
Of course, I was lying, I had just hooked up with a guy I met via Craigslist who had a girlfriend but really enjoyed hot boy sex when he was back in the army. My hair was still wet from the shower I had taken before joining Merry for drinks. But it’s not like something I was likely to cop to.
We sat in silence for a beat, getting fresh drinks and flipping through magazines when I caught Merry staring off into the distance. This happens from time to time with us and is always a sign of a big secret. Something we are eager to spill but aren’t sure how to bring it to the table. I went and had a smoke so Merry could work up to her big announcement.
“I met up with a guy from Craigslist.” The sentence was clear but I didn’t want to take the bait to easily. I congratulated Merry on having a date and she shot me a death stare. “You know what I mean…” I confessed I did and got details. Turns out she was bored and just playing around the internet one night and found herself reading some funny cute personal ads and just dived in. Of course I confessed myself and we both had a laugh about the entire scenario and our reluctance to talk about it.
As I thought about it later that night I wondered why we, two sexually liberated under thirtysomethings, were so embarrassed. I mean, we both have always been open books about our conquests and experiences and here we were like two high sophomores talking about getting to three base with a boy. What was it about the Craigslist experience that had us biting our lips and holding back? So I thought back to all the times that I had done the incognito internet intercourse thing.
What I realized was that each of the guys I had met had their own reasons for the secrecy of the internet. There was the one whose boyfriend was out of town, the aspiring actor who couldn’t ever go to a gay bar for fear of being seen and the married guy who just believed men gave better head. What these guys all had in common was a fear of going public with their secret desire.
Places like Craigslist allow us to fulfill our freakiest behavior without any work—just write an ad of explicit nature and post it with having to leave home. There’s no drinks to buy, no cover to pay, no danger of being outed for whatever it is your heart desires. Just a stranger who is in the mood and doesn’t really care what you want outside of an orgasm and vise versa.
And even for the handful of us who do like casual sex, even we know how odd and dirty this trend is. You barely see a picture, talk maybe once or twice but only to exchange addresses or contact numbers and that’s about it. Sex at your door in under an hour. You can even fit it between loads of laundry or have it waiting after work. And no one has to know.
Some people might say this has always been apart of the internet—that it is part of what makes the information superhighway so popular. That you can meet anyone and swap some info easily and meet lots of new people to play with. But the difference is that these new places are very in your face—they tell you what they want and nothing else. There is little connection of any type. Just sex for sex’s sake.
And while this behavior has been around, it has never been so easy, so incognito, so fast. Someone you know is probably doing this right now, at work or at home or the cyber café down the street. The temptation is so overwhelming because it so easy to not be caught, to not have to face these partners ever again that even the most shy can just go out there and get some. I know people who have separate e-mail accounts for type of stuff, aliases and other ways to cover their tracks.
I guess the real question is, how right is this? I mean, I may not be the most conventional of people but even I know when it has gone too far. Should we be proud of how much further we have come sexually as a society when we use faceless, emotionless avenues to pursue our desires? Have we become so jaded and disconnected from true human interaction that it is okay to just have sex delivered by a random stranger to your door?
I’m not really sure what it means. But is something to think about the next time that Merry and I head off to happy hour at some random bar where really men have to work to get our attention. At least if we do decide to go home with them, we’ll know that it is us that they really want—not just somebody with a computer and desire.
Monday, March 15, 2004
Sunday, March 14, 2004
Thursday, March 11, 2004
An Odd Day...
So, for the most part, yesterday was a slight disappointment of sorts… From Kirby missing our writing meeting down to Kelly and I not planning scavenger hunt details—yes, read that right—it was just a day packed with various reasons why I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. That being said, the weather in LA was beautiful and windy and just very primal. I watched our patio umbrellas spin like pinwheels and listen to the sound of my wind chimes about to be pulled out the window and off into the sky. It was nice and a feeling of season gripped me for a brief moment and then passed away. Later that night, as I was writing, playing a word game and listening to some Rufus Wainwright, I heard a loud pounding on Jac’s door. I looked out and saw a large burly man standing outside her apartment, looking very official. He was either a debt collector after her roommate or a cop down with her nefarious actions. I waited a bit and watched from my open doorway, smoking a Marlboro light. Jac came out and I listened in as she was told that her car was broken in downstairs. She seemed relived to see me and asked if I would go down with her in a couple of minutes. I agreed—a friend in need and all that—and waited as she went to change clothes. To my surprise, I turned to finish my smoke and Ruby was going down the hallway to me. Ruby explained that she had a weird night at the theatre and wasn’t ready to go home to the husband yet. She explained about this guy hitting on her and how odd it was. One of those guys who sees marriage as a challenge as opposed to a stop sign. So Ruby, Jac and I went down to the garage. We stared at her broken window and debated with Mr. Clean about whether to call the cops. Nothing was taken besides a Discman and there was little chance of being returned. Rattled, the three us escaped to play and recapped Ruby evil man story. It was funny, I have spent little alone time with either in awhile yet it was good to stoop and smoke and talk about anything to get us beyond man problems. Then Ruby felt tired and left to return to Heath and a big bed. I was tired too but Jac was still jumpy about the car and so I pushed myself to stay awake a little longer. We popped in a random horror movie she had picked up at Amoeba. She feels about horror movies the way I feel about Velvet Underground—there is nothing done wrong by them. As we watched a young Kevin Costner acting rather well for a bad film something odd happened. As we watched we realized that a pivotal scene took place somewhere familiar. We had a few rough moments trying to figure it out but… It was OUR apartment building. Back in the 80’s but nonetheless…our building. And the creepiest part is that the apartment that the action takes place in—is my apartment… Let me tell you, I couldn’t write this shite sometimes. That movie made our night and helped Jac relax enough to be able to sleep. Though I double bolted the door….
So, for the most part, yesterday was a slight disappointment of sorts… From Kirby missing our writing meeting down to Kelly and I not planning scavenger hunt details—yes, read that right—it was just a day packed with various reasons why I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed. That being said, the weather in LA was beautiful and windy and just very primal. I watched our patio umbrellas spin like pinwheels and listen to the sound of my wind chimes about to be pulled out the window and off into the sky. It was nice and a feeling of season gripped me for a brief moment and then passed away. Later that night, as I was writing, playing a word game and listening to some Rufus Wainwright, I heard a loud pounding on Jac’s door. I looked out and saw a large burly man standing outside her apartment, looking very official. He was either a debt collector after her roommate or a cop down with her nefarious actions. I waited a bit and watched from my open doorway, smoking a Marlboro light. Jac came out and I listened in as she was told that her car was broken in downstairs. She seemed relived to see me and asked if I would go down with her in a couple of minutes. I agreed—a friend in need and all that—and waited as she went to change clothes. To my surprise, I turned to finish my smoke and Ruby was going down the hallway to me. Ruby explained that she had a weird night at the theatre and wasn’t ready to go home to the husband yet. She explained about this guy hitting on her and how odd it was. One of those guys who sees marriage as a challenge as opposed to a stop sign. So Ruby, Jac and I went down to the garage. We stared at her broken window and debated with Mr. Clean about whether to call the cops. Nothing was taken besides a Discman and there was little chance of being returned. Rattled, the three us escaped to play and recapped Ruby evil man story. It was funny, I have spent little alone time with either in awhile yet it was good to stoop and smoke and talk about anything to get us beyond man problems. Then Ruby felt tired and left to return to Heath and a big bed. I was tired too but Jac was still jumpy about the car and so I pushed myself to stay awake a little longer. We popped in a random horror movie she had picked up at Amoeba. She feels about horror movies the way I feel about Velvet Underground—there is nothing done wrong by them. As we watched a young Kevin Costner acting rather well for a bad film something odd happened. As we watched we realized that a pivotal scene took place somewhere familiar. We had a few rough moments trying to figure it out but… It was OUR apartment building. Back in the 80’s but nonetheless…our building. And the creepiest part is that the apartment that the action takes place in—is my apartment… Let me tell you, I couldn’t write this shite sometimes. That movie made our night and helped Jac relax enough to be able to sleep. Though I double bolted the door….
An Odd Day…
So, for the most part, yesterday was a slight disappointment of sorts… From Kirby missing our writing meeting down to Kelly and I not planning scavenger hunt details—yes, read that right—it was just a day packed with various reasons why I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.
That being said, the weather in LA was beautiful and windy and just very primal. I watched our patio umbrellas spin like pinwheels and listen to the sound of my wind chimes about to be pulled out the window and off into the sky. It was nice and a feeling of season gripped me for a brief moment and then passed away.
Later that night, as I was writing, playing a word game and listening to some Rufus Wainwright, I heard a loud pounding on Jac’s door. I looked out and saw a large burly man standing outside her apartment, looking very official. He was either a debt collector after her roommate or a cop down with her nefarious actions. I waited a bit and watched from my open doorway, smoking a Marlboro light.
Jac came out and I listened in as she was told that her car was broken in downstairs. She seemed relived to see me and asked if I would go down with her in a couple of minutes. I agreed—a friend in need and all that—and waited as she went to change clothes. To my surprise, I turned to finish my smoke and Ruby was going down the hallway to me.
Ruby explained that she had a weird night at the theatre and wasn’t ready to go home to the husband yet. She explained about this guy hitting on her and how odd it was. One of those guys who sees marriage as a challenge as opposed to a stop sign. So Ruby, Jac and I went down to the garage.
We stared at her broken window and debated with Mr. Clean about whether to call the cops. Nothing was taken besides a Discman and there was little chance of being returned. Rattled, the three us escaped to play and recapped Ruby evil man story. It was funny, I have spent little alone time with either in awhile yet it was good to stoop and smoke and talk about anything to get us beyond man problems.
Then Ruby felt tired and left to return to Heath and a big bed. I was tired too but Jac was still jumpy about the car and so I pushed myself to stay awake a little longer. We popped in a random horror movie she had picked up at Amoeba. She feels about horror movies the way I feel about Velvet Underground—there is nothing done wrong by them. As we watched a young Kevin Costner acting rather well for a bad film something odd happened.
As we watched we realized that a pivotal scene took place somewhere familiar. We had a few rough moments trying to figure it out but… It was OUR apartment building. Back in the 80’s but nonetheless…our building. And the creepiest part is that the apartment that the action takes place in—is my apartment… Let me tell you, I couldn’t write this shite sometimes. That movie made our night and helped Jac relax enough to be able to sleep. Though I double bolted the door….
So, for the most part, yesterday was a slight disappointment of sorts… From Kirby missing our writing meeting down to Kelly and I not planning scavenger hunt details—yes, read that right—it was just a day packed with various reasons why I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.
That being said, the weather in LA was beautiful and windy and just very primal. I watched our patio umbrellas spin like pinwheels and listen to the sound of my wind chimes about to be pulled out the window and off into the sky. It was nice and a feeling of season gripped me for a brief moment and then passed away.
Later that night, as I was writing, playing a word game and listening to some Rufus Wainwright, I heard a loud pounding on Jac’s door. I looked out and saw a large burly man standing outside her apartment, looking very official. He was either a debt collector after her roommate or a cop down with her nefarious actions. I waited a bit and watched from my open doorway, smoking a Marlboro light.
Jac came out and I listened in as she was told that her car was broken in downstairs. She seemed relived to see me and asked if I would go down with her in a couple of minutes. I agreed—a friend in need and all that—and waited as she went to change clothes. To my surprise, I turned to finish my smoke and Ruby was going down the hallway to me.
Ruby explained that she had a weird night at the theatre and wasn’t ready to go home to the husband yet. She explained about this guy hitting on her and how odd it was. One of those guys who sees marriage as a challenge as opposed to a stop sign. So Ruby, Jac and I went down to the garage.
We stared at her broken window and debated with Mr. Clean about whether to call the cops. Nothing was taken besides a Discman and there was little chance of being returned. Rattled, the three us escaped to play and recapped Ruby evil man story. It was funny, I have spent little alone time with either in awhile yet it was good to stoop and smoke and talk about anything to get us beyond man problems.
Then Ruby felt tired and left to return to Heath and a big bed. I was tired too but Jac was still jumpy about the car and so I pushed myself to stay awake a little longer. We popped in a random horror movie she had picked up at Amoeba. She feels about horror movies the way I feel about Velvet Underground—there is nothing done wrong by them. As we watched a young Kevin Costner acting rather well for a bad film something odd happened.
As we watched we realized that a pivotal scene took place somewhere familiar. We had a few rough moments trying to figure it out but… It was OUR apartment building. Back in the 80’s but nonetheless…our building. And the creepiest part is that the apartment that the action takes place in—is my apartment… Let me tell you, I couldn’t write this shite sometimes. That movie made our night and helped Jac relax enough to be able to sleep. Though I double bolted the door….
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
Monday, March 08, 2004
Day One of Introspection
So I have decided today to get back to basics. No tv, no music, no cute outfits or multiple phone calls to create plans in my unemployment. A day of little more than some writing, coffee, sun and Marlboro Lights. I guess I need to figure out my head again. To take time and try to figure out what works about my life, what is good, bad, indifferent or impossible. It seems that some things are out of stock while others are multiplying like bad Christmas themed returns. And so I try in the quiet to get myself together. I do have an idea of how my life works—it would be depressing if I didn’t but I am too self aware for that. Too self aware for a lot of things. I have tried dividing my life into various columns and am doing equations like mad. Though there seem to be a lot of things in prentices and have forgotten how one handles those. I try not to stare at my dinning curtains and wonder how they would look with mauve; I try not to think about how I should have been with Nick at the hockey game two days ago. I try not to think about the PADWAD project or Billie’s demand for a submission to her show. I am trying to push out all the back stock out of the warehouse while remembering what I used to sell. It’s all about fears and relationships and things I should do versus the things I have done. The questions about art, love, friendships and money. It’s about needing to figure out how in debt I am—emotionally more than physically. It’s about knowing my body’s worth, my heart’s availability and how to finally get over my fear of success-failure-expose. It’s about figuring out what these walls are built off. I used to think they were glass but I know better now. It’s about why they are there and what purpose do they serve. It’s about getting over my desire to be compacted and needed and open and mysterious. (As if.) It’s about pulling down my sleeve and hiding my heart for a little bit. It’s about getting a longer shirt to hide that tattoo of heart I have showing over the happy trail. Be warned peoples. Things may get ugly. The card list may be shortened. Some may be enlisted and some might not make it past auditions. And these are threats but steps to make towards something more true. It is amazing to realize how off the path I have gotten. And while the view is pretty… You can’t spend all your time staring off into the distance. Because eventually the cliff will weather away and drop you right into the ocean.
So I have decided today to get back to basics. No tv, no music, no cute outfits or multiple phone calls to create plans in my unemployment. A day of little more than some writing, coffee, sun and Marlboro Lights. I guess I need to figure out my head again. To take time and try to figure out what works about my life, what is good, bad, indifferent or impossible. It seems that some things are out of stock while others are multiplying like bad Christmas themed returns. And so I try in the quiet to get myself together. I do have an idea of how my life works—it would be depressing if I didn’t but I am too self aware for that. Too self aware for a lot of things. I have tried dividing my life into various columns and am doing equations like mad. Though there seem to be a lot of things in prentices and have forgotten how one handles those. I try not to stare at my dinning curtains and wonder how they would look with mauve; I try not to think about how I should have been with Nick at the hockey game two days ago. I try not to think about the PADWAD project or Billie’s demand for a submission to her show. I am trying to push out all the back stock out of the warehouse while remembering what I used to sell. It’s all about fears and relationships and things I should do versus the things I have done. The questions about art, love, friendships and money. It’s about needing to figure out how in debt I am—emotionally more than physically. It’s about knowing my body’s worth, my heart’s availability and how to finally get over my fear of success-failure-expose. It’s about figuring out what these walls are built off. I used to think they were glass but I know better now. It’s about why they are there and what purpose do they serve. It’s about getting over my desire to be compacted and needed and open and mysterious. (As if.) It’s about pulling down my sleeve and hiding my heart for a little bit. It’s about getting a longer shirt to hide that tattoo of heart I have showing over the happy trail. Be warned peoples. Things may get ugly. The card list may be shortened. Some may be enlisted and some might not make it past auditions. And these are threats but steps to make towards something more true. It is amazing to realize how off the path I have gotten. And while the view is pretty… You can’t spend all your time staring off into the distance. Because eventually the cliff will weather away and drop you right into the ocean.
Day One of Introspection
So I have decided today to get back to basics. No tv, no music, no cute outfits or multiple phone calls to create plans in my unemployment. A day of little more than some writing, coffee, sun and Marlboro Lights.
I guess I need to figure out my head again. To take time and try to figure out what works about my life, what is good, bad, indifferent or impossible. It seems that some things are out of stock while others are multiplying like bad Christmas themed returns. And so I try in the quiet to get myself together.
I do have an idea of how my life works—it would be depressing if I didn’t but I am too self aware for that. Too self aware for a lot of things. I have tried dividing my life into various columns and am doing equations like mad. Though there seem to be a lot of things in prentices and have forgotten how one handles those.
I try not to stare at my dinning curtains and wonder how they would look with mauve; I try not to think about how I should have been with Nick at the hockey game two days ago. I try not to think about the PADWAD project or Billie’s demand for a submission to her show. I am trying to push out all the back stock out of the warehouse while remembering what I used to sell.
It’s all about fears and relationships and things I should do versus the things I have done. The questions about art, love, friendships and money. It’s about needing to figure out how in debt I am—emotionally more than physically. It’s about knowing my body’s worth, my heart’s availability and how to finally get over my fear of success-failure-expose.
It’s about figuring out what these walls are built off. I used to think they were glass but I know better now. It’s about why they are there and what purpose do they serve. It’s about getting over my desire to be compacted and needed and open and mysterious. (As if.) It’s about pulling down my sleeve and hiding my heart for a little bit. It’s about getting a longer shirt to hide that tattoo of heart I have showing over the happy trail.
Be warned peoples. Things may get ugly. The card list may be shortened. Some may be enlisted and some might not make it past auditions. And these are threats but steps to make towards something more true. It is amazing to realize how off the path I have gotten. And while the view is pretty… You can’t spend all your time staring off into the distance. Because eventually the cliff will weather away and drop you right into the ocean.
So I have decided today to get back to basics. No tv, no music, no cute outfits or multiple phone calls to create plans in my unemployment. A day of little more than some writing, coffee, sun and Marlboro Lights.
I guess I need to figure out my head again. To take time and try to figure out what works about my life, what is good, bad, indifferent or impossible. It seems that some things are out of stock while others are multiplying like bad Christmas themed returns. And so I try in the quiet to get myself together.
I do have an idea of how my life works—it would be depressing if I didn’t but I am too self aware for that. Too self aware for a lot of things. I have tried dividing my life into various columns and am doing equations like mad. Though there seem to be a lot of things in prentices and have forgotten how one handles those.
I try not to stare at my dinning curtains and wonder how they would look with mauve; I try not to think about how I should have been with Nick at the hockey game two days ago. I try not to think about the PADWAD project or Billie’s demand for a submission to her show. I am trying to push out all the back stock out of the warehouse while remembering what I used to sell.
It’s all about fears and relationships and things I should do versus the things I have done. The questions about art, love, friendships and money. It’s about needing to figure out how in debt I am—emotionally more than physically. It’s about knowing my body’s worth, my heart’s availability and how to finally get over my fear of success-failure-expose.
It’s about figuring out what these walls are built off. I used to think they were glass but I know better now. It’s about why they are there and what purpose do they serve. It’s about getting over my desire to be compacted and needed and open and mysterious. (As if.) It’s about pulling down my sleeve and hiding my heart for a little bit. It’s about getting a longer shirt to hide that tattoo of heart I have showing over the happy trail.
Be warned peoples. Things may get ugly. The card list may be shortened. Some may be enlisted and some might not make it past auditions. And these are threats but steps to make towards something more true. It is amazing to realize how off the path I have gotten. And while the view is pretty… You can’t spend all your time staring off into the distance. Because eventually the cliff will weather away and drop you right into the ocean.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
I’ve Been Bad.
I have been. Really. I have been ignoring you and, by default, myself. There have been parties and bars and jobs ending. Shopping sprees and hook ups that have made it easy to hide. The truth is that life has been hard, partially because of the job ending and all this free time and open spaces in my life.
But that’s not what has been keeping me away from you. It’s all these things that have been happening around me. Friends getting married, bar hopping to meet boys, going on dates, dealing with babies or jobs and a million other things that give me pause. Make me wonder what I am doing with my time. Ruby brought up this thing about how the stars re-a-line at a certain point in one’s life to the same spots that they were when you were born. That this creates a huge change point where either one changes or stays the same as they have been all along. This is what why people around this age are most likely to kill themselves—it’s the stars. And this is making me take stock of the shop that is Rory.
The questions of have I done enough, try enough, been the things that I thought I would be. I’m not sure that I have been. That maybe I haven’t be doing the right things for me but instead have been making space for everyone else’s bullshit. That all this strum and drang isn’t about me because I’m not doing the things that I want or need. And that I need to decide what it is that I want next.
And that’s the rub… I have no idea. Any suggests? The peanut gallery is open.
I have been. Really. I have been ignoring you and, by default, myself. There have been parties and bars and jobs ending. Shopping sprees and hook ups that have made it easy to hide. The truth is that life has been hard, partially because of the job ending and all this free time and open spaces in my life.
But that’s not what has been keeping me away from you. It’s all these things that have been happening around me. Friends getting married, bar hopping to meet boys, going on dates, dealing with babies or jobs and a million other things that give me pause. Make me wonder what I am doing with my time. Ruby brought up this thing about how the stars re-a-line at a certain point in one’s life to the same spots that they were when you were born. That this creates a huge change point where either one changes or stays the same as they have been all along. This is what why people around this age are most likely to kill themselves—it’s the stars. And this is making me take stock of the shop that is Rory.
The questions of have I done enough, try enough, been the things that I thought I would be. I’m not sure that I have been. That maybe I haven’t be doing the right things for me but instead have been making space for everyone else’s bullshit. That all this strum and drang isn’t about me because I’m not doing the things that I want or need. And that I need to decide what it is that I want next.
And that’s the rub… I have no idea. Any suggests? The peanut gallery is open.
Friday, March 05, 2004
The Amazing, Engaging, Technicolor World of Homosexuality Or just a sex act?
By Rory Lapointe
I'm angry. If you ever met me you probably couldn't imagine it. So normal looking, cute by some standards, funny by others. Young, out and proud, with blonde hair and blue eyes, a place on the next Pride float. But underneath the surface I'm angry, disenchanted, awakened...I can't hold it inside. I grew up the way most queers of my generation did; if you do the right things then it will all be good. I learned from all the available resources that if you were strong and believed in yourself, that by coming out a whole new world would open for you. All the magazines, books, and films showed a world of fun and engaging people; a lifestyle based on a sense of community and belonging that was fit for anyone who wanted to claim it. That by the virtues of honesty and truth, that somehow your life would be amazing, filled with joy and good things. Then reality hit like a bitch slap. Once everyone reacted, mostly positive, to my homosexuality then I was ready for my "gay" life to begin. I went to all the hip bars, the best clubs, the trendy support groups, the loudest gay rights' organizations. I volunteered for dance-thons, worked the party circuit, read the Joy of Gay Sex, went to the most popular gay rights rallies. I learned who made the best Madonna remixes, the right drinks, the rules of the dating game and how to be the most positive and fun gay male I could be. Over time though, I developed a sense of disenchantment. A feeling like all was not going to be "Billy's Hollywood Screen Kiss" or, Lord forbid, "Queer as Folk". That all my time spent reading "Tales of the City" might have been better spent reading Helter Skelter. The disappointments began to build up and began to rattle around inside me and, in return, I began to wake up. Instead of some magical, San Francisco version Oz what I found was a place that, unless drunk or drugged up, left me with a sad, drained feeling. I found out that bars weren't these happy friendly places where people enjoyed themselves, they're places where all those games you thought ended in high school were still being played. That what was considered witty is just bitchy with a punch line and smile attached. How everyone is scared of approaching, much less addressing, anyone else which is ironic because we all want to be so straight acting.... (Guess what, real straight men have to approach their objects of desire!) That sex wasn't free wheeling good time, that even if you slept with someone it didn't mean they liked or respected you. That if you wanted to wait and not have sex on the first date then you weren't gonna have a second and that wasn't the only rule to this game. Dating was all based on the food chain, eat and be eaten and even then you weren't fit to be on some people's menus. That trying to make friends in most bars was like trying to give Jesse Helms a blow job-it ain't gonna happen. I learned being part of an organization didn't mean that we were all working for the same cause or that we even got along. It wasn't even meant for all of us, it was a world divided by the most shallow of things; age, race and gender do count when you're working for equality. I now know how much time it can take to pick a name for a group and how many different themes a protest can have-then not everyone participates becomes someone's pissed. I guess I feel like I was sold a bad bill of goods, an Armstead Maupin built illusion based on a "Will & Grace" mirage. "Out is what it's about!" All the books by the sexy sophisticated authors, the albums by the pretty boy songwriters, all this junk that was available to me at sixteen was just some big cover up. That somehow the gay community picked the perfect age, race, social status to be and that's what we all are. I don't see any poor, any Black, any twelve years' olds in the brochure and if you ask they'll tell you that they're the fucking leprechauns of the gay community. Except they don't exist at the end of any rainbow banner. And maybe part of it is the straight world's fault but we're the ones still lining up for the dream. The world said we were sad so the community threw a fucking parade for ourselves and gave it a flashy one word name. "Pride!" We took a lifestyle and gave it a soundtrack, some strong casting and suddenly we couldn't tell the different between the stage and audience. So maybe Gore Vidal had it right when he said that homosexuality was just a sex act and not a lifestyle-that we've all been building a movement out of the concept of waking up next to another penis driven mammal. That it's all really about the day to day of human existence-about paying bills, being lonely even when you're sharing a bed, not knowing if anything is ever going to change. That sex is just like phys ed, sweaty and tough and sometimes you're gonna be afraid to hit the showers. I just wish someone had bothered to tell me this instead of giving me some Spike Jonez directed, MTV spewing, Technicolor dream. Because in the end, I'm angry about this, this crap that we somehow are selling, not only to the straight world, but to ourselves. And it would be fine if we all wanted to be a community of Cleopatras, queens of denial, but it's about those kids coming up behind us. From their little teenage closets they're all seeing Oz when all we're really offering is fucking Kansas.
By Rory Lapointe
I'm angry. If you ever met me you probably couldn't imagine it. So normal looking, cute by some standards, funny by others. Young, out and proud, with blonde hair and blue eyes, a place on the next Pride float. But underneath the surface I'm angry, disenchanted, awakened...I can't hold it inside. I grew up the way most queers of my generation did; if you do the right things then it will all be good. I learned from all the available resources that if you were strong and believed in yourself, that by coming out a whole new world would open for you. All the magazines, books, and films showed a world of fun and engaging people; a lifestyle based on a sense of community and belonging that was fit for anyone who wanted to claim it. That by the virtues of honesty and truth, that somehow your life would be amazing, filled with joy and good things. Then reality hit like a bitch slap. Once everyone reacted, mostly positive, to my homosexuality then I was ready for my "gay" life to begin. I went to all the hip bars, the best clubs, the trendy support groups, the loudest gay rights' organizations. I volunteered for dance-thons, worked the party circuit, read the Joy of Gay Sex, went to the most popular gay rights rallies. I learned who made the best Madonna remixes, the right drinks, the rules of the dating game and how to be the most positive and fun gay male I could be. Over time though, I developed a sense of disenchantment. A feeling like all was not going to be "Billy's Hollywood Screen Kiss" or, Lord forbid, "Queer as Folk". That all my time spent reading "Tales of the City" might have been better spent reading Helter Skelter. The disappointments began to build up and began to rattle around inside me and, in return, I began to wake up. Instead of some magical, San Francisco version Oz what I found was a place that, unless drunk or drugged up, left me with a sad, drained feeling. I found out that bars weren't these happy friendly places where people enjoyed themselves, they're places where all those games you thought ended in high school were still being played. That what was considered witty is just bitchy with a punch line and smile attached. How everyone is scared of approaching, much less addressing, anyone else which is ironic because we all want to be so straight acting.... (Guess what, real straight men have to approach their objects of desire!) That sex wasn't free wheeling good time, that even if you slept with someone it didn't mean they liked or respected you. That if you wanted to wait and not have sex on the first date then you weren't gonna have a second and that wasn't the only rule to this game. Dating was all based on the food chain, eat and be eaten and even then you weren't fit to be on some people's menus. That trying to make friends in most bars was like trying to give Jesse Helms a blow job-it ain't gonna happen. I learned being part of an organization didn't mean that we were all working for the same cause or that we even got along. It wasn't even meant for all of us, it was a world divided by the most shallow of things; age, race and gender do count when you're working for equality. I now know how much time it can take to pick a name for a group and how many different themes a protest can have-then not everyone participates becomes someone's pissed. I guess I feel like I was sold a bad bill of goods, an Armstead Maupin built illusion based on a "Will & Grace" mirage. "Out is what it's about!" All the books by the sexy sophisticated authors, the albums by the pretty boy songwriters, all this junk that was available to me at sixteen was just some big cover up. That somehow the gay community picked the perfect age, race, social status to be and that's what we all are. I don't see any poor, any Black, any twelve years' olds in the brochure and if you ask they'll tell you that they're the fucking leprechauns of the gay community. Except they don't exist at the end of any rainbow banner. And maybe part of it is the straight world's fault but we're the ones still lining up for the dream. The world said we were sad so the community threw a fucking parade for ourselves and gave it a flashy one word name. "Pride!" We took a lifestyle and gave it a soundtrack, some strong casting and suddenly we couldn't tell the different between the stage and audience. So maybe Gore Vidal had it right when he said that homosexuality was just a sex act and not a lifestyle-that we've all been building a movement out of the concept of waking up next to another penis driven mammal. That it's all really about the day to day of human existence-about paying bills, being lonely even when you're sharing a bed, not knowing if anything is ever going to change. That sex is just like phys ed, sweaty and tough and sometimes you're gonna be afraid to hit the showers. I just wish someone had bothered to tell me this instead of giving me some Spike Jonez directed, MTV spewing, Technicolor dream. Because in the end, I'm angry about this, this crap that we somehow are selling, not only to the straight world, but to ourselves. And it would be fine if we all wanted to be a community of Cleopatras, queens of denial, but it's about those kids coming up behind us. From their little teenage closets they're all seeing Oz when all we're really offering is fucking Kansas.
Don’t Let that Sixteen Year Old Judge You!
I was bored. In the guise of self-improvement I decided that I would try something new, different, totally unlike me. I didn't know what I would try until I found myself standing outside of the neighborhood gay bar. (I live in Los Angeles, hence the "neighborhood" gay bar) Now this wasn't the first time I had been in a gay bar or even my first time with this particular bar; it was the first time I would attempt it sans friends, co-workers or enemies. I say attempt because I never entered the bar. Instead I found myself standing across the street, in the dark of a broken streetlight, staring (longingly, I assume) at the open doorway, unable to move my feet. I only left when I realized that the doorman, whom had been peeking out, most likely thought I was either crazy or a basher or a combination of both. That night, back in my apartment, as I warmed up (after several shots of whiskey) I tried to understand what had happened outside the club. I mean, I am a fairly cute, overly ambitious and somewhat self-confident gay man yet I couldn't enter a simple club by myself. There would be no bashers or parents or small children inside to make me feel uncomfortable, if anything I should be eager to enter such an environment. But I wasn't. I was afraid. Now you think less of me. I mean, here I am telling everyone to be proud and to stand up for one's self yet I can't enter a simple doorway. Well, it's the truth. Just like I don't know any gay man who doesn't cringe a little when he sees that someone is noticing that he has picked up the latest copy of "The Advocate" at the newsstand. (Unless said individual is Brad, Leo or Matt and then well...) But really, most guys grab the magazine and make a bee line for the check out. Then they usually blush as they are rung up and aren't able to look the cashier in the eye. Sound familiar? Don't get me wrong, I do it too. It doesn't matter where I am; I almost always feel a slight moment of unease when dealing with the most random aspects of my sexuality. Like family gatherings when they ask how things are going. Do I tell them that I haven't met Mr. Right but I now know the highest number of "straight acting" florists in the Los Angeles area? Should I offer my view points on the latest "gay" (meaning mainstream) issue? Or maybe they don't say anything about my lifestyle and so it becomes an unspoken agreement of silence. Kind of like the "don't ask, don't tell policy." I won't make them uncomfortable by bring up my homosexuality, just like I won't make strangers uncomfortable by openly flipping through 'The Advocate', and I will most definitely not make anyone uncomfortable by showing up at the local bar without a posse of either gay or gay-friendly persons. The thing that these different scenarios have in common is that they are all based on a fear. A fear that being gay within itself is wrong and that by pursuing various aspects of it that we are running a serious threat of being judged by the world at large. I mean, why do you think that we as a group are so judgmental, (straight acting, fem) sarcastic (hello, Jack?!) and argumentative? Because we have been judged, ridiculed and forced into compliance by society at large. But of course you're different. I mean, none of what I just wrote applies to you. I mean, the reason you bee line to the checkout with your magazine is that you never know when a basher might be lying in wait. And it is easier for you not to talk about the most recent time you were dumped or left or why you dumped or left what's-his-name; especially not over turkey with the family. And why would you want to go dancing by yourself anyways? How can you poke fun at the music, outfits and techniques with your gaggle of girls? Now, I'm not saying that those reasons aren't justifiable and without merit but have you even wondered what might happen if you did the opposite? Do you honestly believe that some 'Jerry Springer' red neck will openly attack you in front of the Barnes and Noble newsstand? Would Dad's head really explode if you talked with Mom about how you left Will because he wouldn't stop cyber sexing with his ex? That maybe they will all point and laugh at you (ala "Carrie") when you show up at 80's night without the crew? Really? See, when you think about it, really stop and consider it, none of those things will ever happen. Or if they do, it is the most random occurrence in the world, worthy of tabloid-movie-of-the-week status. Fear of judgment is a powerful thing and I don't mean that we should ignore the risks of being out because that would be reckless. However I do believe that we can handle things like the newsstand, family night and happy hour as open individuals. How we accomplish these small feats of everyday life can show others, our community included, that we have nothing to hide and that there is nothing to fear from the average homosexual. I mean, really, how can we live in fear of judgment by the sixteen year old who rings us up or the people that conceived us in the back of their parents Ford or the gang of bitchy, slutty, out-of-work dancers from last year's Gay Pride Float? I mean, we as a society have evolved enough to handle these emotionally draining scenarios. Or if we haven't, then maybe we should restart the movement. So openly read the 'Advocate' and don't just run home with it, tell your Grandma about the crazy night in Palm Springs with swimsuit model and learn how to enjoy a beer and a dance by yourself or, better yet, with a stranger. Maybe it will be me. (Unless I mercifully get hit by a truck crossing the road to get in. Or that Ben finally comes out...eh, eh, eh.) If we can all do this then we will change things. Promise.
I was bored. In the guise of self-improvement I decided that I would try something new, different, totally unlike me. I didn't know what I would try until I found myself standing outside of the neighborhood gay bar. (I live in Los Angeles, hence the "neighborhood" gay bar) Now this wasn't the first time I had been in a gay bar or even my first time with this particular bar; it was the first time I would attempt it sans friends, co-workers or enemies. I say attempt because I never entered the bar. Instead I found myself standing across the street, in the dark of a broken streetlight, staring (longingly, I assume) at the open doorway, unable to move my feet. I only left when I realized that the doorman, whom had been peeking out, most likely thought I was either crazy or a basher or a combination of both. That night, back in my apartment, as I warmed up (after several shots of whiskey) I tried to understand what had happened outside the club. I mean, I am a fairly cute, overly ambitious and somewhat self-confident gay man yet I couldn't enter a simple club by myself. There would be no bashers or parents or small children inside to make me feel uncomfortable, if anything I should be eager to enter such an environment. But I wasn't. I was afraid. Now you think less of me. I mean, here I am telling everyone to be proud and to stand up for one's self yet I can't enter a simple doorway. Well, it's the truth. Just like I don't know any gay man who doesn't cringe a little when he sees that someone is noticing that he has picked up the latest copy of "The Advocate" at the newsstand. (Unless said individual is Brad, Leo or Matt and then well...) But really, most guys grab the magazine and make a bee line for the check out. Then they usually blush as they are rung up and aren't able to look the cashier in the eye. Sound familiar? Don't get me wrong, I do it too. It doesn't matter where I am; I almost always feel a slight moment of unease when dealing with the most random aspects of my sexuality. Like family gatherings when they ask how things are going. Do I tell them that I haven't met Mr. Right but I now know the highest number of "straight acting" florists in the Los Angeles area? Should I offer my view points on the latest "gay" (meaning mainstream) issue? Or maybe they don't say anything about my lifestyle and so it becomes an unspoken agreement of silence. Kind of like the "don't ask, don't tell policy." I won't make them uncomfortable by bring up my homosexuality, just like I won't make strangers uncomfortable by openly flipping through 'The Advocate', and I will most definitely not make anyone uncomfortable by showing up at the local bar without a posse of either gay or gay-friendly persons. The thing that these different scenarios have in common is that they are all based on a fear. A fear that being gay within itself is wrong and that by pursuing various aspects of it that we are running a serious threat of being judged by the world at large. I mean, why do you think that we as a group are so judgmental, (straight acting, fem) sarcastic (hello, Jack?!) and argumentative? Because we have been judged, ridiculed and forced into compliance by society at large. But of course you're different. I mean, none of what I just wrote applies to you. I mean, the reason you bee line to the checkout with your magazine is that you never know when a basher might be lying in wait. And it is easier for you not to talk about the most recent time you were dumped or left or why you dumped or left what's-his-name; especially not over turkey with the family. And why would you want to go dancing by yourself anyways? How can you poke fun at the music, outfits and techniques with your gaggle of girls? Now, I'm not saying that those reasons aren't justifiable and without merit but have you even wondered what might happen if you did the opposite? Do you honestly believe that some 'Jerry Springer' red neck will openly attack you in front of the Barnes and Noble newsstand? Would Dad's head really explode if you talked with Mom about how you left Will because he wouldn't stop cyber sexing with his ex? That maybe they will all point and laugh at you (ala "Carrie") when you show up at 80's night without the crew? Really? See, when you think about it, really stop and consider it, none of those things will ever happen. Or if they do, it is the most random occurrence in the world, worthy of tabloid-movie-of-the-week status. Fear of judgment is a powerful thing and I don't mean that we should ignore the risks of being out because that would be reckless. However I do believe that we can handle things like the newsstand, family night and happy hour as open individuals. How we accomplish these small feats of everyday life can show others, our community included, that we have nothing to hide and that there is nothing to fear from the average homosexual. I mean, really, how can we live in fear of judgment by the sixteen year old who rings us up or the people that conceived us in the back of their parents Ford or the gang of bitchy, slutty, out-of-work dancers from last year's Gay Pride Float? I mean, we as a society have evolved enough to handle these emotionally draining scenarios. Or if we haven't, then maybe we should restart the movement. So openly read the 'Advocate' and don't just run home with it, tell your Grandma about the crazy night in Palm Springs with swimsuit model and learn how to enjoy a beer and a dance by yourself or, better yet, with a stranger. Maybe it will be me. (Unless I mercifully get hit by a truck crossing the road to get in. Or that Ben finally comes out...eh, eh, eh.) If we can all do this then we will change things. Promise.
Romance or A Plan for World Domination.
By Rory Lapointe
I promised myself that I wasn't going to cave in and do this. I mean, every February somehow the entire world breaks down and talks about, sings about, and even writes about love. As such, love then becomes this grand goal, this absolute destination and February fourteenth is the one day of the year that we must recapture the depth of our windswept emotions and sum them up with a card or box of chocolate or something pretty. I didn't want to conform to this Hallmark conspiracy yet here I am. Going where every man has gone before. Of course my first thought was to go anti Valentine's Day; to write about the injustice of there being one day set aside for people to prove their love to one and another. About how I planned to wear all black and go out with my single friends and protest with an Alanis Morrisette mentality. "Valentine's Day sucks and you ought to know." But that was only creative back in junior high. Maybe I would write about the other forms of love. That in Greek society friendship itself was the utmost form of love. Maybe everyone should focus on the less "traditional" themes of love; family, friendship, brotherhood of man type stuff. Ban song dedications and cheesy poetry and those special episodes of 90210 or Dawson's Creek. But that would make me more pretentious then usual. What to write about then? Romance. Not the Harlequin version but the sexless, childlike idealized love. The type that is in fairy tales, the type that Shakespeare and Dickens and Austen made immortal. Love without sex or rivalry, where individuals are unprepared for how truly perfect everything can be. Love as the soul infinity. Now that I had a topic the next course of action was to find a gay angle. Something that would speak to me as an evolved gay man. A story or play or even a song that would sum up the best our way of loving, our emotions, our concerns and struggles. I thought about all the films I had seen, all the novels I had read and yet, alas, there is no "Romeo and Julio". I guess then, I can only share what I have experienced and let you see what I believe it is. You can take what you will from it, disregard it, or even laugh at it. As long as you think about it, feel about it, wonder about it. I'm not say that I have any new insight but I can share and hope that it changes something. My first time was when I was much younger, about the age of thirteen. There was this boy whom I had been what Kinsey would refer to as "experimenting" with. The sex continued off and on over the course of a year till he moved several towns away. We reconnected briefly on a camping trip and began our old habit of fighting. For me, it was because I felt used in our previous arrangement, more like an extra hand then an equal partner. Eventually though we ended up alone in our tent, in the midst of a rain storm, me trying to sleep. I had no interest in resuming anything and found myself waiting for a sign that he was asleep so I could relax. The tension was thick and I was about to say something when he suddenly leaned over and kissed me. Now, this was an important moment because this had never happened before. He had never done anything endearing towards me, it had been a routine of roll around and pull the pants on and leave. As he continued to kiss me I felt like I had somehow fallen through a rabbit hole into a strange new place, somewhere where everything else between us had gone mute. After a moment we broke apart and he whispered one thing, "sorry" then rolled over to his side of the tent. I never figured out what to say to him after that moment, instead the camping trip ended and we both went back to our real lives. No letters or phone calls, no other trips, instead I was left with this feeling of amazement that something had happened. Of course, I assumed that I felt this attachment to the moment because it was my first kiss and all. That the magic I felt was because it was new experience and that I would probably never feel that way again. Instead I became a much more sexual person. I did what I wanted with whomever I wanted. I would have sex (safe sex) with boys whose names I didn't care to know, meet men in bars and parks and strip malls; I became a person of experiences more than emotions. It was during one of these times that I had another brush with the magic. I had been out one night with friends when I saw this boy, low slung cap and perfect teeth, just staring at me with something close to longing. I was never one to let an opportunity pass me by. Later that night, after some amazingly public sex, we were both standing there, fumbling with belts and coats when he took my hand. I was immediately on guard because when you take strange boys on you learn some unpleasant things about people. Instead he looked down at my hand and then kissed it. Surprise must have shown on my face because he just smiled and said, "Do you need me to you walk home?" I shook my head and turned to leave but he still held my hand. "Thanks." Then he kissed it again and let go. That night walking home I cried. I had never felt like such a fool before, I wanted to run back and say "yes, walk me home". Maybe we would have talked or exchanged numbers or something. But instead I stopped having casual sex and settled into a stage of denial. A chance at romance bit me on the arse and I just walked away. Crying nonetheless. Needless to say I was unprepared the next time. I was doing some research for something when I ended up in a random conversation on line. We were talking about various things but after a while we both started to get sloppy. I told him how I liked to write and so he asked me to try and write him something. "A romance of course." So I started to write this cheesy over-the-top epic via our instant messages, something that used our screen names and was amazing abstract. Somehow I became involved in the moment and didn't end the story till several hours later. The two of us exchanged e-mail addresses and nothing more but the next time I logged on I found this letter that he had written me. It included our story along with this e-mail. "Never thought I'd go on-line and have a story written about me. Thanks" I guess if anything that sentiment is the truth behind romance. It can be the kindness in a smile, the warmth of a touch or maybe just giving a random piece of yourself away. It is the unexpected moments in life, the chances where we do the nice thing, the sweet thing, the heartfelt thing. Maybe that's why there are so few books about it; straight or gay. To plot such a story, to try for such unplanned moments seems forced and, in the end, faked. In the end that means only we can control and create it. Maybe that's what I'm trying to say here. That instead of flowers or songs or even gifts I would rather try for romance. Maybe if we all did for a day then we could try for all year. Maybe.
By Rory Lapointe
I promised myself that I wasn't going to cave in and do this. I mean, every February somehow the entire world breaks down and talks about, sings about, and even writes about love. As such, love then becomes this grand goal, this absolute destination and February fourteenth is the one day of the year that we must recapture the depth of our windswept emotions and sum them up with a card or box of chocolate or something pretty. I didn't want to conform to this Hallmark conspiracy yet here I am. Going where every man has gone before. Of course my first thought was to go anti Valentine's Day; to write about the injustice of there being one day set aside for people to prove their love to one and another. About how I planned to wear all black and go out with my single friends and protest with an Alanis Morrisette mentality. "Valentine's Day sucks and you ought to know." But that was only creative back in junior high. Maybe I would write about the other forms of love. That in Greek society friendship itself was the utmost form of love. Maybe everyone should focus on the less "traditional" themes of love; family, friendship, brotherhood of man type stuff. Ban song dedications and cheesy poetry and those special episodes of 90210 or Dawson's Creek. But that would make me more pretentious then usual. What to write about then? Romance. Not the Harlequin version but the sexless, childlike idealized love. The type that is in fairy tales, the type that Shakespeare and Dickens and Austen made immortal. Love without sex or rivalry, where individuals are unprepared for how truly perfect everything can be. Love as the soul infinity. Now that I had a topic the next course of action was to find a gay angle. Something that would speak to me as an evolved gay man. A story or play or even a song that would sum up the best our way of loving, our emotions, our concerns and struggles. I thought about all the films I had seen, all the novels I had read and yet, alas, there is no "Romeo and Julio". I guess then, I can only share what I have experienced and let you see what I believe it is. You can take what you will from it, disregard it, or even laugh at it. As long as you think about it, feel about it, wonder about it. I'm not say that I have any new insight but I can share and hope that it changes something. My first time was when I was much younger, about the age of thirteen. There was this boy whom I had been what Kinsey would refer to as "experimenting" with. The sex continued off and on over the course of a year till he moved several towns away. We reconnected briefly on a camping trip and began our old habit of fighting. For me, it was because I felt used in our previous arrangement, more like an extra hand then an equal partner. Eventually though we ended up alone in our tent, in the midst of a rain storm, me trying to sleep. I had no interest in resuming anything and found myself waiting for a sign that he was asleep so I could relax. The tension was thick and I was about to say something when he suddenly leaned over and kissed me. Now, this was an important moment because this had never happened before. He had never done anything endearing towards me, it had been a routine of roll around and pull the pants on and leave. As he continued to kiss me I felt like I had somehow fallen through a rabbit hole into a strange new place, somewhere where everything else between us had gone mute. After a moment we broke apart and he whispered one thing, "sorry" then rolled over to his side of the tent. I never figured out what to say to him after that moment, instead the camping trip ended and we both went back to our real lives. No letters or phone calls, no other trips, instead I was left with this feeling of amazement that something had happened. Of course, I assumed that I felt this attachment to the moment because it was my first kiss and all. That the magic I felt was because it was new experience and that I would probably never feel that way again. Instead I became a much more sexual person. I did what I wanted with whomever I wanted. I would have sex (safe sex) with boys whose names I didn't care to know, meet men in bars and parks and strip malls; I became a person of experiences more than emotions. It was during one of these times that I had another brush with the magic. I had been out one night with friends when I saw this boy, low slung cap and perfect teeth, just staring at me with something close to longing. I was never one to let an opportunity pass me by. Later that night, after some amazingly public sex, we were both standing there, fumbling with belts and coats when he took my hand. I was immediately on guard because when you take strange boys on you learn some unpleasant things about people. Instead he looked down at my hand and then kissed it. Surprise must have shown on my face because he just smiled and said, "Do you need me to you walk home?" I shook my head and turned to leave but he still held my hand. "Thanks." Then he kissed it again and let go. That night walking home I cried. I had never felt like such a fool before, I wanted to run back and say "yes, walk me home". Maybe we would have talked or exchanged numbers or something. But instead I stopped having casual sex and settled into a stage of denial. A chance at romance bit me on the arse and I just walked away. Crying nonetheless. Needless to say I was unprepared the next time. I was doing some research for something when I ended up in a random conversation on line. We were talking about various things but after a while we both started to get sloppy. I told him how I liked to write and so he asked me to try and write him something. "A romance of course." So I started to write this cheesy over-the-top epic via our instant messages, something that used our screen names and was amazing abstract. Somehow I became involved in the moment and didn't end the story till several hours later. The two of us exchanged e-mail addresses and nothing more but the next time I logged on I found this letter that he had written me. It included our story along with this e-mail. "Never thought I'd go on-line and have a story written about me. Thanks" I guess if anything that sentiment is the truth behind romance. It can be the kindness in a smile, the warmth of a touch or maybe just giving a random piece of yourself away. It is the unexpected moments in life, the chances where we do the nice thing, the sweet thing, the heartfelt thing. Maybe that's why there are so few books about it; straight or gay. To plot such a story, to try for such unplanned moments seems forced and, in the end, faked. In the end that means only we can control and create it. Maybe that's what I'm trying to say here. That instead of flowers or songs or even gifts I would rather try for romance. Maybe if we all did for a day then we could try for all year. Maybe.
Confession of a GAP.. Sometimes Straight Boys Give Love
By Rory G. Lapointe
So I did it again. What all gay men do at least once in our lives. Broke my heart and poured it into the ground; hoping against hope that it would be different this time. Trying really hard to tell myself that this would be the right time with the right person. It's funny how easy it is sometimes to forget every other time in your life you've done the same thing and have been wrong. It started at one of those "end of something" parties that you have to make something really unimportant matter. We were drinking out of plastic cups and pulling ice cubes out of the kitchen sink; mixing hard drinks with cheap liquor and diet soda. Manny and I stood by the pool, making lazy conversation, he was laughing at all my witty jokes while I tried not to notice the way the light bounced off the water into his eyes. For a moment I held my ground and didn't say anything real but eventually, like always, my truth had to spoken. I opened my mouth and spilled out my apologies, that I hoped that he hadn't heard the rumors. That all my practical jokes and quiet asides hadn't been made for him to feel uncomfortable. That I understood he was straight with a girlfriend and a life that I had no right to step on. Selfishly I drifted past all the moments I had cornered him, teased him and stopped him on his way to somewhere else. Manny smiled and laughed a guff sound while pulling hard through his goatee. A hand on my arm, he told me that I never did anything to make him feel uncomfortable; that he was okay with things. A moment passed and I sighed with contentment, I was fine and the depth of my secret was unnoticed. I wandered away from him, finding other friends to talk to and taking a stolen moment to hide my small smile. I was safe with him. At this point it should be noted that I do this all the time. I meet someone and instead of doing the sane thing, the rational thing, I play my game. The game that we all play with boys like Manny; boys that we can't have. Somehow we've all learned to believe that love was like a piñata; you close your eyes and take a swing with the stick and hope you break it open. That love would fall scattered on the ground in a million sweet pieces that you could have if you were lucky. And every time you lose, instead of learning your lesson, you just spin yourself around and take another swing. So instead of letting things go, letting them lie, I decided that my heart hadn't been thoroughly broken yet. I noticed he was making his way to the door, to leave the party, to leave my presence. My heart caught in my throat for a moment; this could be the last time I saw him for 6 months, a year, forever. I was rude as I made my way outside to the street; I blew past people I always had a kind word for, a joke to share. I hit the street with a drink in one hand, a smoke in the other and the hope in my mind that I made good time in my shattered state. He caught me with a smile by the curb, somehow I done it and was rewarded with this last chance to talk with him. He was leaning his truck, putting on some Tracy Chapman, and holding a cigarette. For a moment I laughed, either outside or to myself I can't remember. I straighten up and made a silent promise to God that I would be forever grateful for whatever was about to happen. Slowly we started to talk about the world and the infinite sadness of "Fast Car" and somehow we landed on the subject of his girlfriend. Manny told me about how he had done her wrong, made a mistake that could cost him everything. That now it was about tests and silent heartbreak and that whatever happened to him was earned punishment. I looked at him and let go a long silent breath. Of all the things in the world to say to another person, to me, this was heartbreak and sadness. That there was a possibility that someone like him could just go away. It was selfish thought but it was also the truth of the moment. Breaking the tension was the ring of a cell phone. It's her, Manny said, as he held the phone in his hand, unanswered. He looked me in the eyes and just stared for a beat. His voice broke as he told me that he loved her. That she was his ONE and that he couldn't believe he had risked all that for nothing. That things had happened that put all of his love for her in jeopardy and that he could lose IT. Now you might assume that this broke my heart but instead it saved me. I no longer wanted to love Manny but rather I did love him; not in a sexual sense but out of my understanding of his love. That he made me see that this real, larger than life thing was possible; that it isn't a random party game but something special that you can hold in the palm of your hand. It can call out to you in the middle of a drunken, balmy summer night. With such a build up, you might assume that there should be a grand ending. Instead, other people joined us on the street, all drunk and silly with smokes and one night stands to be had as my head swam in circles around his love. My friends tried to lead me away from Manny, telling me to get a grip as they all thought that I was making some drunken last play for a boy who I couldn't have. In the confusion Manny slipped into his truck and drove away, leaving me with an opened heart in the middle of the street. In that moment I realized what the point is of those people in our lives. That it's not about the angsty crushes or bad poetry or that we fell but that they are there to remind us of how it can be. That love is a real thing that comes to you in a million different places and for a million different reasons. That we all have a boy like Manny somewhere in our lives; not the boy that we did love but rather the boy who made us see what love could be all about. Now I won't lie and say I didn't cry a little that night before I drifted into sleep. But that night I also realized that for every time I have ever been that in love with the wrong guy, that in denial about sexuality, there was a reason for it. That it's to tell us about how love can be real, that it can be and that sometimes it can come, not from an actual love relationship, but the possibilities and loves of another person; even a drunken, sad-eyed straight boy. And part of me wishes I could thank Manny for this gift but part of me also know that it would take away from our moment on the street; our moment for smokes and heartfelt thoughts. I'd rather picture him driving somewhere, Tracy Chapman still pouring out his truck windows and his cell phone calling him home.
By Rory G. Lapointe
So I did it again. What all gay men do at least once in our lives. Broke my heart and poured it into the ground; hoping against hope that it would be different this time. Trying really hard to tell myself that this would be the right time with the right person. It's funny how easy it is sometimes to forget every other time in your life you've done the same thing and have been wrong. It started at one of those "end of something" parties that you have to make something really unimportant matter. We were drinking out of plastic cups and pulling ice cubes out of the kitchen sink; mixing hard drinks with cheap liquor and diet soda. Manny and I stood by the pool, making lazy conversation, he was laughing at all my witty jokes while I tried not to notice the way the light bounced off the water into his eyes. For a moment I held my ground and didn't say anything real but eventually, like always, my truth had to spoken. I opened my mouth and spilled out my apologies, that I hoped that he hadn't heard the rumors. That all my practical jokes and quiet asides hadn't been made for him to feel uncomfortable. That I understood he was straight with a girlfriend and a life that I had no right to step on. Selfishly I drifted past all the moments I had cornered him, teased him and stopped him on his way to somewhere else. Manny smiled and laughed a guff sound while pulling hard through his goatee. A hand on my arm, he told me that I never did anything to make him feel uncomfortable; that he was okay with things. A moment passed and I sighed with contentment, I was fine and the depth of my secret was unnoticed. I wandered away from him, finding other friends to talk to and taking a stolen moment to hide my small smile. I was safe with him. At this point it should be noted that I do this all the time. I meet someone and instead of doing the sane thing, the rational thing, I play my game. The game that we all play with boys like Manny; boys that we can't have. Somehow we've all learned to believe that love was like a piñata; you close your eyes and take a swing with the stick and hope you break it open. That love would fall scattered on the ground in a million sweet pieces that you could have if you were lucky. And every time you lose, instead of learning your lesson, you just spin yourself around and take another swing. So instead of letting things go, letting them lie, I decided that my heart hadn't been thoroughly broken yet. I noticed he was making his way to the door, to leave the party, to leave my presence. My heart caught in my throat for a moment; this could be the last time I saw him for 6 months, a year, forever. I was rude as I made my way outside to the street; I blew past people I always had a kind word for, a joke to share. I hit the street with a drink in one hand, a smoke in the other and the hope in my mind that I made good time in my shattered state. He caught me with a smile by the curb, somehow I done it and was rewarded with this last chance to talk with him. He was leaning his truck, putting on some Tracy Chapman, and holding a cigarette. For a moment I laughed, either outside or to myself I can't remember. I straighten up and made a silent promise to God that I would be forever grateful for whatever was about to happen. Slowly we started to talk about the world and the infinite sadness of "Fast Car" and somehow we landed on the subject of his girlfriend. Manny told me about how he had done her wrong, made a mistake that could cost him everything. That now it was about tests and silent heartbreak and that whatever happened to him was earned punishment. I looked at him and let go a long silent breath. Of all the things in the world to say to another person, to me, this was heartbreak and sadness. That there was a possibility that someone like him could just go away. It was selfish thought but it was also the truth of the moment. Breaking the tension was the ring of a cell phone. It's her, Manny said, as he held the phone in his hand, unanswered. He looked me in the eyes and just stared for a beat. His voice broke as he told me that he loved her. That she was his ONE and that he couldn't believe he had risked all that for nothing. That things had happened that put all of his love for her in jeopardy and that he could lose IT. Now you might assume that this broke my heart but instead it saved me. I no longer wanted to love Manny but rather I did love him; not in a sexual sense but out of my understanding of his love. That he made me see that this real, larger than life thing was possible; that it isn't a random party game but something special that you can hold in the palm of your hand. It can call out to you in the middle of a drunken, balmy summer night. With such a build up, you might assume that there should be a grand ending. Instead, other people joined us on the street, all drunk and silly with smokes and one night stands to be had as my head swam in circles around his love. My friends tried to lead me away from Manny, telling me to get a grip as they all thought that I was making some drunken last play for a boy who I couldn't have. In the confusion Manny slipped into his truck and drove away, leaving me with an opened heart in the middle of the street. In that moment I realized what the point is of those people in our lives. That it's not about the angsty crushes or bad poetry or that we fell but that they are there to remind us of how it can be. That love is a real thing that comes to you in a million different places and for a million different reasons. That we all have a boy like Manny somewhere in our lives; not the boy that we did love but rather the boy who made us see what love could be all about. Now I won't lie and say I didn't cry a little that night before I drifted into sleep. But that night I also realized that for every time I have ever been that in love with the wrong guy, that in denial about sexuality, there was a reason for it. That it's to tell us about how love can be real, that it can be and that sometimes it can come, not from an actual love relationship, but the possibilities and loves of another person; even a drunken, sad-eyed straight boy. And part of me wishes I could thank Manny for this gift but part of me also know that it would take away from our moment on the street; our moment for smokes and heartfelt thoughts. I'd rather picture him driving somewhere, Tracy Chapman still pouring out his truck windows and his cell phone calling him home.
Confessions of a GAP... Just Call Me Rory Kane
By Rory Lapointe
I have always loved soap operas. I grew on a heavy diet of General Hospital, Santa Barbara and even Sunset Beach and a little guiding light. I learned much from this unsentimental education and have used these lessons well in life. I don't mean waiting for a sweet prince to stumble in or a nice wedding or having an evil twin but sensible things like how to get what you want by using looks, brains and a I-am-the-world motivation. What this means is that I have studied the best divas on the air. Erica, Lucy, Rev and even a little bit of Gina. Women who are smart, crafty and even a little bit much at times. And these traits are one that I have eagerly absorbed in my system. Not blackmailing or man stealing, mind you, but the ability to decide what you want and have a single minded plans to get it. Which brings this to Libbs. Libbs is the super hot tape master at my current job. Blond, blue eyed and a fashion sense that rivals my own. He is kind, sweet, funny and even a little bit wicked at time and I made the conscious decision to figure out to make him mine. It started in the simplest of ways; finding out his last name (Christian...) his e-mail, work schedule and even his home address. Now before you think stalker I would like to point out that this information is just for a base background on what I am dealing with. Not to call his house, not send scary e-mails but to learn little details. Like the type of neighborhood he likes, whether he is funny enough to have a cute e-mail address or even when I should dress more alluring. Now, with this information the game was in play and I began to start to make myself noticed. Comments about his neighborhood like talking about cute coffee houses in the area and then Libbs says something like "Oh, that's by my house." And I look surprised and say something like "really?" I look much more naive than I am and so this approach works well. I notice little things as well. A good diva-villain notices not only their surroundings but also the unspoken. The ring check on his hand (nothing) the cute picture of the love interest (nada) or even the type of music he listens to. All these tiny details can add up to big ways to save time when I like someone. I don't want to chase after people in relationships or even a metrosexual straight boy. So gathering details can save me time and effort because no one wants to be the gay guy eating out his heart over something he can't have. I noticed little things like the script that is always on his desk (which he wrote and make me even more into him) and the fact that he likes chocolate covered cherries. (Cute) I was able to engage him in conversation about writing and managed to in a random way tell him about my writing too. He was interested and we talked for about a half-hour. Now before you judge my tactics I would just like to say that as gay and lesbians become more mainstream it is harder to pick ourselves out. I mean, it used to be hankies, freedom rings and other easy to spot fashion accessories or tattoos. But now living in a culture exposed to lesbians on daytime, gay in prime time and even out actors and homoerotic subtext in films (hello, "Lord of the Rings") it gets harder to know for sure. And, regardless of place or timing (unless it's a sex club) it is not a good idea to ask someone's sexual preference. It's just rude. So at the end of the day, that's why I do the things I do. I don't want to waste my time or make someone uncomfortable because they are not on my team. Or if they're in a relationship. Or just incompatible. And so I used my skills learned from the halls of daytime's best-- know what you want, find the ways to make it happen and never waste your time. Because there is nothing worse than giving yourself away to the wrong people. Oh and by the way, Libbs didn't know what I meant by being published in "XY". So I guess I am not going to waste my time anymore. That's what Erica would do.
By Rory Lapointe
I have always loved soap operas. I grew on a heavy diet of General Hospital, Santa Barbara and even Sunset Beach and a little guiding light. I learned much from this unsentimental education and have used these lessons well in life. I don't mean waiting for a sweet prince to stumble in or a nice wedding or having an evil twin but sensible things like how to get what you want by using looks, brains and a I-am-the-world motivation. What this means is that I have studied the best divas on the air. Erica, Lucy, Rev and even a little bit of Gina. Women who are smart, crafty and even a little bit much at times. And these traits are one that I have eagerly absorbed in my system. Not blackmailing or man stealing, mind you, but the ability to decide what you want and have a single minded plans to get it. Which brings this to Libbs. Libbs is the super hot tape master at my current job. Blond, blue eyed and a fashion sense that rivals my own. He is kind, sweet, funny and even a little bit wicked at time and I made the conscious decision to figure out to make him mine. It started in the simplest of ways; finding out his last name (Christian...) his e-mail, work schedule and even his home address. Now before you think stalker I would like to point out that this information is just for a base background on what I am dealing with. Not to call his house, not send scary e-mails but to learn little details. Like the type of neighborhood he likes, whether he is funny enough to have a cute e-mail address or even when I should dress more alluring. Now, with this information the game was in play and I began to start to make myself noticed. Comments about his neighborhood like talking about cute coffee houses in the area and then Libbs says something like "Oh, that's by my house." And I look surprised and say something like "really?" I look much more naive than I am and so this approach works well. I notice little things as well. A good diva-villain notices not only their surroundings but also the unspoken. The ring check on his hand (nothing) the cute picture of the love interest (nada) or even the type of music he listens to. All these tiny details can add up to big ways to save time when I like someone. I don't want to chase after people in relationships or even a metrosexual straight boy. So gathering details can save me time and effort because no one wants to be the gay guy eating out his heart over something he can't have. I noticed little things like the script that is always on his desk (which he wrote and make me even more into him) and the fact that he likes chocolate covered cherries. (Cute) I was able to engage him in conversation about writing and managed to in a random way tell him about my writing too. He was interested and we talked for about a half-hour. Now before you judge my tactics I would just like to say that as gay and lesbians become more mainstream it is harder to pick ourselves out. I mean, it used to be hankies, freedom rings and other easy to spot fashion accessories or tattoos. But now living in a culture exposed to lesbians on daytime, gay in prime time and even out actors and homoerotic subtext in films (hello, "Lord of the Rings") it gets harder to know for sure. And, regardless of place or timing (unless it's a sex club) it is not a good idea to ask someone's sexual preference. It's just rude. So at the end of the day, that's why I do the things I do. I don't want to waste my time or make someone uncomfortable because they are not on my team. Or if they're in a relationship. Or just incompatible. And so I used my skills learned from the halls of daytime's best-- know what you want, find the ways to make it happen and never waste your time. Because there is nothing worse than giving yourself away to the wrong people. Oh and by the way, Libbs didn't know what I meant by being published in "XY". So I guess I am not going to waste my time anymore. That's what Erica would do.
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