Drowning Antinous

2008-11-14T23:37:00.004-05:00

Designed by the fabulous Shepard Fairey, who also designed the amazing Obama campaign image, this magnificent poster was revealed today. His Defend Equality image is forthright, powerful, begs no sympathy for our cause but rather calls all Gay men and women to action. A great work of art is offered us here - find your pride and use it for positive action and change!

Dawn

2008-11-11T08:25:00.005-05:00

The sun is just rising over the mountains bordering the Tonto National Forest; which runs along our property line. The amazing wealth of wildlife is stirring, the numerous species of birds are all a twitter and seem to be singing in praise of the morning. I sit at my desk in the living room and warm my toes before the dancing flames of the fireplace. It is quiet. Mark is still asleep. The cats have been fed their breakfast. It is the perfect time of day!

Discrimination Enshrined

2008-11-06T17:15:00.004-05:00

It is a sad day in our household for Prop 8 passed in California. I stayed in bed all of Wednesday, because even with Obama being elected, and that is a great joy, my feelings are just crushed. Some speculate that it was the religious Black Vote which swung the anti-gay amendment into place, a fundamentalist community within which it is still not OK to be Out and Gay. They are very pro-Obama but very anti-Gay. Others say it was the Latino vote, for much the same reasons. Personally, I blame, at least in part, Obama himself, who refused to loudly decry the amendment during his campaign. His statements against prop 8 were made only quietly and to venues in which he already knew there was support for same sex marriage. (i.e. his interview to young voters via MTV).

Whatever the reason for its win Prop 8 it is a dismal gut wrenching blemish on the fair State of California, a State which is usualy renowned for its liberalism and insight of social issues. We have immediately filed suit, of course, to prevent the amendment from taking force. Will our court battle succeed? I do not know. But I am not giving up the fight. I believe whole heartedly that even should it take root for now, it will eventually be torn from enshrinement not only in the California Cobstitution but that of all the States as well. America is on a new path with new leadership and eventually it will be seen that such blatant discrimination against a whole segment of American society cannot and will not be tolerated for the long term.

Potted

2008-11-04T07:39:00.007-05:00

Mark and I have beed sharing some gardening. It's been a great way to spend time together. Mark is a pro with the drip system, and keeps all our green friends from being thristy, I do my best to make them look their best. We're especially excited about the lavendar plants we bought - they were just intended as a hothouse flowering plant for a short time indoors, but we managed to relocate them outside and they are just starting their second flowering. The scent is wonderful, and the soft pale green is delicious. We also potted some lantana, some Arizona yellow bell and a favorite: red and rose coloured geraniums, also in their second flowering as I write.

Geraniums always remind me of my grandomther. She loved them and painted a lovely watercolour of the flower when she was 16. That was 1906. I gave the painting some years ago to my sister Peggy. At the time we were moving to Europe and I wanted to make certain the painting stayed in America with our family.

As I write I remember France and the many fields of lavendar we saw while visiting Provence. Near the village of Le barroux. The town was once a fortified castle; all that remains now is the town and the castle ruins. It is a lovley place of winding streets and revamped houses now filled with foreigners and Parisians who want a country place. The plaons surrounding the hill upon which Le Barroux is built are filled with vinyards and lavendar. Scrumptious. It is amazing what memories a simple scent may bring you from our of the blue.

Memoir

2008-09-15T05:59:00.013-04:00

Dad was hurrying us as I left my almost new portable radio cassette player on the trash heap of household items (we were unloading ourselves of near and dear worldly goods for which there was no room in the car) in the alley behind the giant lemon tree. How I loved that tree, with it's yearly weighty load of large yellow fruit. I trailed my fingers across its emerald leaves and golden Autumn globes, said goodbye to it and clambered into the back seat of the 72 Ford Torino Squire Wagon. I think we were entitled to the 'Squire' part from the name because of the magnificent vinyl wood panelling to be found sweeping both the driver and passenger sides of the car, as well as its tailgate; but the Torino I was never quite as certain of - was it a reference to the city in Italy? To their football club? Doesn't seem likely, does, it... I doubt I shall ever know.

It was late afternoon in Yuma as we drove out of that city as a family. Dad headed us north along the old highway through Quartzite, and as dusk fell, Mom began the rosary. I slumped into the shiny brown stamped vinyl of the backseat - an upgrade I'm sure - and closed my eyes, somewhat resentful as I mumbled the words of the Hail Mary. Which decade were we saying? I don't know now, and I didn't know then. As the light started to fall in the Arizona sky all I could think of was that our lives were slipping off the map, and that our sanity was following swiftly.

I don't know who first decided that evil spirits were following us that evening, but the ratty torn shreds of clouds were dark and menacing, backlit in the last light of the day, and it was easy to imagine fearsome forms lurking within them and all about us. I felt the last of reality fall from my grasp and succumbed to the fear that was generated by my devout parents that evening. This fear would last for many years before I was again able to achieve any sense of proportion regarding religion and its place within my life. I was twenty-two years old, it was 1980 and my personal hell on earth was in full swing.

_________________________________________

First, let me say, that at twenty-two, one would think that the clutching grasp of parental beliefs would have already been loosened by some experience out in the world, a bevy of close friends and peers and certainly one's own explorations of reason and sex. Yet, no, my family's values, strongly taught and deeply felt, held sway well into my late twenties.

We were Roman Catholic, but very conservative R.C., and the fear of God had long outstripped for me any personal truth in his or her love. After all, we learn of God's love through our parents, particularly our fathers, and my relationship with my father was fragile and shaky, and had been, for some years. My Mother's faith dominated our lives, from the many pictures and statues of saints and angels and Jesus, through our almost daily rosaries and Mass; through special events such as the 'Weeping Madonna' we hosted in our home to the financial support my parents extended far beyond their means to every Catholic charity one might imagine. I had more than one 'sister' and 'brother' supported monthly by Mom and Dad in far flung places such as China and its Catholic missions, and closer places such as New York City, where street kids were given shelter through same such donations.

At times, as a child, it was painful to be denied art lessons while the money for them went to other children I did not and will never likely meet. Yet, to feel this way was utterly selfish, I knew, and I bore the heavy weight of my guilt sometimes in angry tirades, but more often as a silent resentment. Did they not understand the importance of my painting? Could they not love me as much as 'Ying Yang Sue'?

I believed, in fact, they could not love me. There was no degree. That I was indeed wholly unlovable, and in part because all my priorities were wrong; but more so because of my secret, the secret I was sure was known to them and yet was hated and hateful, horrific in every way. The secret no one would ever speak of with me. The secret that would damn me to eternal hellfire, for in the middle of a nocturnal emission at 12 years old Satan himself appeared to me and said, laughing: "I will destroy you through sex, Donnie. I know your secret!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thundering Turtles

2008-08-23T04:05:00.005-04:00

So my spouse named us today as we drove the Rover over the bumpy two miles of dirt road to the Rio Verde highway! "Thundering what", I exclaimed? "Thundering turtles", Mark replied. As I thought of the imagery, I concluded it wasn't wholly inaccurate. Bucking all the trends all our lives together we have slowly but surely made our way forward to here and now. Of course, a tortoise would be a more accurate imagery for two land lubbers such as we; ne'er the less lumbering, lurching forward in a sort of slow ungainly manner is accurate - even for a turtle once it's out of the water!

We recently planted six new lantana plants in the front yard, and we've dutifully kept after them each day, talking, cajolling them into sinking down their roots and pushing upwards and out their leaves and flowers. Additionally, we placed two Mexican Bird of Paradise in Italian terracotta pots on the front loggia - their lacy, lovely ferny leaves shimmer on their narrow leggy trunks, and push out a riotous bloom of yellow and orange fire for all to see. The hummingbirds are in love with all the new flowering plants, as are the butterflies - of which I've seen two new species. One, a large velvet black creature with great yellow dots upon its lower wings. The second a smallish yellow and oragne creature of great agility.

Each evening all comes peaceably to rest. The Bird of Paradise and the mesquite fold their little fern-like leaves as if in slumber, and the many birds and small mammals disappear to nests and burrows. Only the toads come out, along with the beady glowing eyes of the occasional hunter of sleeping unwary little ones. Miss Athenais apparently has a suitor in the form of an elusive bobcat. He leaves little gemlike feces at the doorstep at night, and at night she is oft frantic to get outside and greet this visitor - whomever it might actually be. Good parents that we are she is of course utterly discouraged from such rauchous and unladylike behavior, lest she loose not only her virginity, but her noble place, oh ancestors we hear thee, in feline society; we have the battle, but whom shall win the war? Shall we arrive at the vet too late? Or will her spaying provide us all relief at last from nocturanl suitors of dubious birth?

Thus, the turtles waddle forward, one more day completed, serene in our little family troupe thrown wayward like upon the desert's grace, one air-conditioning cell and one well of lightly laced arsenic agua between us and doom. Bon nuit mes freres!

A Christian's View of Same Sex Marriage

2008-06-14T04:03:00.004-04:00

Well, I haven't been here for awhile...

The big news, of course, is he California Supreme Court's ruling to allow same sex marriage in California. Hur-rah! It's about time.

Of course the religious right is attempting a ballot measure to prevent/stop the ruling from coming into being, but I have hopes that this latest attempt to prevent equality for the GLBT community will fail. I certainly do hope so. We were able to prevent an amendment to the Massachusetts Constitution, and we defeated a VOTE for an amendment to the Arizona Constitution; surely we can manage the same in California.

But, if we don't, I still believe it will turn around. This is the same reprehensible nonsense as disallowing women the vote, and even more similar to the ugliness of preventing African Americans general civil equality.

It IS a civil rights issue. It is a matter for the courts in this regard, for the courts are meant to protect the minority from the prejudices of the majority. Those whom purport that radical judges are to blame misunderstand fundamentally the purpose of our judicial system. Interracial marriage was a scandal at one time, after all; now it is quite normal in the majorities viewpoint. This will happen for same sex marriage as well. As more and more countries (Denmark this week past) and states realize the disenfranchisement and inequality created by a personal faith indifference to civil rights, we will find the religious view of 'sin' must be abolished in the civil arena regarding someones sexuality. The only other course is to become a theocracy, and Americans who founded this country did so to escape the dictates of their own theocracies at home. Just as Islam has created theocracies in multiple Middle Eastern and Eastern countries, to the detrement of their citizens' freedoms, Americans will surely not allow fundamentalist Christians to become the voice of our laws at home. As a pluralistic and secular society it must offend even moderate Christians, not to mention those of other faiths and/or no faith whatsoever, to be dictated to by one segment of America's citizenship.

Those of hyper-conservative faith backgrounds certainly have rights as well, but those rights do not include imposing their faith beliefs on the nation as a whole. Even they should be able to understand this simple idea, that no one church may determine civil laws for all Americans. Rather, the faith of individuals must only govern those whom agree with their doctrines and philosophies; and that government is found within their own homes and families and in their own churches and temples, but certainly not in society generally. Would fundamentalist Christians wish to be ruled by a Jewish or Muslim state? Of course not. The solution is to have the Church separate from the State. Period.

Home is the right and proper place to instruct in religious societal values. This is the primary place to teach one children about one's own faith's principals, which may not congeal with societies secular view. The responsibility of parents is to teach their children their values and traditions so as to armor them against what their faith may hold as wrong in the great wide world.

Likewise, public schools may not cater to religious beliefs. Should you wish a narrower social upbringing there are private faith schools. It is the duty of the public school system to reflect the diversity of public thought and opinion without bias for or against the views of either liberal or conservative thought. The fear of children being exposed to multiple viewpoints is ridiculous. All their lives people are exposed to beliefs differing from their own. This is why the imperative for living a life of faith must be dependent upon a child's home life; the faith lived and taught lovingly at home will produce a competent adult capable of not only choosing well for themselves but also also capable in their ability to debate their beliefs throughout their lives. Conversely, the purpose of public education is to present young people with the multiple beliefs of the world at large, to foster tolerance and understanding even of those whose views we cannot concede as genuine for ourselves. In short, individuals may not and should not expect a 'crutch' for their religious views by enforcing these views upon society. Christ said it himself, and very well indeed: "Give unto Ceasar what is Ceasar's, and unto God what is God's." If Christ authors the separation of Church and State why is it so difficult for us to do likewise?

As a Christian, a Catholic, I am able to best speak from this background. Throughout the New Testament Christ spoke one central message of inclusive love. Nowhere did he encourage violence against anyone, even those he found living outside his grace. He stopped the stoning of the prostitute. Nowhere did he encourage disenfranchisement, no matter their race or politics; consider the the meaning behind the parable of the good Samaritan. Christ saw one thing, that his Father had created all men in his image. He loves us all today as well.

We have that same obligation. Justice and equality for all, whether you are Christian, Jewish or Muslim. Whether white, black or brown. American or Chinese. Gay, lesbian or straight.

The High Chaparral!

2008-03-23T09:20:00.003-04:00

There is something unexpected and even unexplainable in our recent location to the high desert chaparral. First, the desert has always previously been a torture to me, growing up in it from childhood well into my twenties, that involved some crossovers between unmitigated heat and a total lack of culture, at least in the sense of a deplorable lack of fine art, (cowboy bronzes don't count), classical music (gee-tars at the how-down don't count) and haute cuisine. (Right again, enchiladas in verde sauce, don't count!)

Nevertheless, here we are, and in a few days I do believe I will find some of that elusive PEACE I keep hunting. The house is large, too, large, but light filled and airy. It's a tad 'neuvo riche' in it's expansive layout, and certainly a contractor, not an architect, designed and built it... it lacks the simplicity and detailing of a genuine beauty. Nevertheless, in it's slightly garish charm, and rather too well hidden bones, still lurk the possibility of order from chaos. What's more, after nearly being homeless I cannot seriously complain at all. We have a home! More than we could have hoped for and located in the most beautiful of natural preserves.

The chaparral comes within feet of the house; it's mesquite, ocotillo, sahuaro very green indeed this year. Cotton tails, jack rabbits, mule deer, hawks, a falcon have been seen - and the coyotes heard. Perhaps a mountain cat roams near? Quail, roadrunners, all of nature is here and whether gentle or deadly it's awful beauty fascinates and calms and excites all at once. Peace. Some peace at last.

Two More Angels

2008-03-05T00:52:00.009-05:00

These two little fur balls are always up to something cute. My angelic acrobat, Athenais, immediately set upon my easel, (recently put to use in the living room), as the latest goal for her gymnastic aspirations. Her excitement was palpable as she assessed her options for conquering this Everest of canvas and wood; she circled the easel several times, sat upon her haunches and motioned with her forelegs her desire to climb and then, without further hesitation, clambered up the armoire and over to the top of my painting. You can see her enthusiasm. She spent about ten minutes upon her conquered pinnacle awaiting our amazement and praise.

Monsieur Bouvier, on the other hand, is overjoyed when he finds Mark and I alone together in the living room. He snakes between our legs, back and forth, for some serious petting and scratching, and after a few minutes of personal grooming, plops himself upon the carpet and spreads eagle for us. Exposing his belly is quite a compliment to his feeling safe, welcome and loved, and of course it's hilarious, too!

L'ange

2008-03-02T19:46:00.005-05:00

I received a comment today on an older post regarding the Bethesda Fountain and its Angel of the Waters. Here are a few more photographs of that beautiful place taken our last winter in New York City. Click on this post's title to see the original post.

CLAUDE-NICOLAS LEDOUX

2008-02-22T21:52:00.012-05:00

The French architect Claude-Nicolas Ledoux is associated with the late eighteenth centuries return to nature, exeplified in philosophy with Jean-Jacques Rousseau, but in which case with architecture means a return to ancient classical forms of the Greco-Roman. Ledoux's buildings are overtly restrained and severely classical, sometimes categorized as Architecture of the Revolution, exemplifying in masonry the ideals of the new order, stripped of nearly all ornamentation and even at times considered avant-garde by contemporaries.

Nevertheless, some stunning and ethereal buildings are the result, including Madame du Barry's Pavillion du Louviciennes. The design was awarded Ledoux, over the King's architect Ange-Jacques Gabriel's objections, by du Barry; the plans were completed in 1770 and the building itself completed in 1771 and inaugurated on September 2 of that year. Gabriel oversaw completion of the interiors and oranament for the pavilion. Built only as a tableau of reception rooms with views of the Seine valley it proved so popular with the King and his mistress that du Barry intended to replete the building with all the rooms necessary for living, however the King's untimely death disrupted any such notions. Unpopular with the new King, Louis XVI, and his young queen, Marie Antoinette, du Barry nevertheless retained the deeds of both the Chateau and the Pavillion.

The Pavillion du Louviciennes was really the onset of Ledoux's career. Many of his later buildings are now lost, some to the very Revolution which inspired them; yet others, so modern and spectacular in device they never left the proverbial drawing board, seem futuristic in many ways even to our eyes today. A fine facsimile of a portfolio of Ledoux drawings is available from Tachsen Press and includes many elevations and floor plans worth anyone's time and interest.

Americans know the work of Ledoux, and his contemporaries such as Gabriel, far better than they know. Jefferson, Adams and Franklin, all having acted as ambassadors to the French court, saw the authority and monumentality of French Neo-Classical architecture and brought these forms to both their residences and the public buildings of the fledgling United States. Washington, D.C., is itself a tribute to French classicism as planned by Major Pierre-Charles L'Enfant in 1791 and mapped in 1792. Having fought along side George Washington in the Revolutionary War, he requested and was given the honor of devising the new capital's layout. Created on the mostly vacant acreage betwixt the Potomac and East Rivers, the ten mile tract gave an unrivaled potential for innovation. Washington was built on a wheel spoke axis taking full advantage of views and neo-classical proportions; both the Capital Building and the White House represent the zenith of French influence on the Americas.

CLAUDE-NICOLAS LEDOUX

To My Valentine

2008-02-14T21:08:00.008-05:00

It is twenty years, now, my Love. Twenty years of joy and heartache, of laughter and tears, of learning what love really means and of how it has shaped our lives.

Tonight you are far away, an oddity for us two whom rarely spend even hours apart. It is difficult to not have you here in the house, smoking your cigarettes and typing away at your computer for hours. (Though the air is fresher!) Your sandy hair, tousled and unkempt, is not within my reach this evening, soft as cornsilk, to run my fingers through, as I stroke your brow. Your arms, in which I lie so many evenings, too, are lost me this night. And other body fragments, too, which have made intimate so many of our nights are lost to me this evening.

But, still you are near. The bed clothes store your scent, and so do your shirts, Your various projects lay about unfinished, partly constructed or unconstructed. Your photos are within my view. Yes, even miles away you're still here with me - each object in this house holds your memory as easily as a vase holds flowers; and the perfume of those sweet, sweet thoughts I've stored deep inside me waft ever gently to my mind.

And, soon, My Love, you will return to me, you will come home and I will have you in my arms again. But all that is intangible will still be here, too, receded, but ready, always to come forth to sooth and calm, to remember soft kisses and music which is ours...

A Minimum of Dignity, Please.

2008-02-14T20:10:00.005-05:00

This is the most heart wrenching story, but it's not the only one.

A woman in Florida never got to see her partner before she died. The Hospital, Harvard medical, refused her permission to see her partner - until the sister of the dying woman gave her permission to do so. Don't be fooled, this story just keeps repeating itself over and over again all across the country, but especially where there are no laws demanding equal treatment for Gay families.

Write your Congressmen and Congresswomen, please. Demand that laws denying our right to civil marriage and domestic partnerships be overturned so that GLBT couples may have the same ability to be present within the critical and important moments of their lives, just as you do.

Click the Headline to go to the Video.

Stranger in Paradise

2008-02-03T11:11:00.000-05:00

I don't know if I'm able to write about death without sounding either cloying or detached. The Spectre seems to be so very close these days, and many whom I've respected or whose work I've loved are now gone. Judy Garland and Grace Kelly, Rock Hudson have stories which resonate with my experiences. Heath Ledger seems only the latest of far too many; in the past few years I've said goodbye to Audrey Hepburn and Dan Fogelberg, as if they were friends - and now others I do know intimately are approaching goodbyes; my friend, Patty, won't be here for a great deal longer and my Mom, too, will be gone soon. And, perhaps, Dad. I wonder if I will lose my Mark? How do you continue without your heart and soul guy? It's not the leaving that hurts so, their agonies are through. It's the remaining behind. The horrific emptiness at feeling bereft of companions whom we believe believed ad felt as we do.

I think of the thousands of young men and women whom are dying in an unjust war and their parents burying them. I think of my Gay brothers whom are attacked by strangers whom hate for the sake of hate, and especially of the ones whom in despair take their own lives because they don't believe, can't fathom being loved. The commercials of children dying in Darfur or at St. Jude's are too real and too close, and even the abused animals with great sad eyes tear at my heart as if I knew each of them - and I wish I could hold them and take away their pain. Or maybe it's my pain I wish they could take away.

If you love them, hug them, write or feed the ones you love enough will it carry you through the long years of loneliness you expect? Will watching their films or listening to their songs fill the days? Will reading old Christmas cards or crying at Irish music bring Mom back for a few minutes? Will sending money ease the pain? What is there that can make any of it mean something worthwhile? I hear in my heart the fluttering wings of angels and I see in my mind's eye old holy cards stained with the tears of the Saints and bloodied Sacred Hearts pierced with swords. I remember believing in Church and Country, some time long ago, when I could brush the dust off a butterfly wing and not regret it, a child scientist exploring a life's demise with disquieting aplomb. Now I think of, long for another life, a heaven, a paradise, the celestial globe; a garden unending where decay at last ends and the cherry tree blooms in the midst of snow falling softly. Quiet, beautiful and filled with many songs, the sea thundering to the the lawn's edge and there, amidst every contradiction, they are all there again, with the bloom in their cheeks and the fire of stars always in their eyes. Stranger things are true.

You See, No One Ever Called Me Darling Before

2008-01-29T00:10:00.000-05:00

Bette Davis' magnificently delivered line in Dark Voyage is powerful because it is universal, this need to be loved. It is the desire which pervades all mens' hearts, no matter our age and no matter our status. And it is this need for which we, as Gays and Lesbians, continue to fight for our equal right to love and be loved by whom our hearts choose.

It's a lovely fallacy propagated by dangerous, religious right-wing extremists to declare that everyone chooses to be Gay or Lesbian.

I suppose there may be a few iconoclasts whom toy with the idea of making sexuality a choice in order to shock their parents or peers, perhaps a tactic of some few rebellious youth; but in the end it is the heart which wins out for nearly all of us. The heart rarely chooses the individual person it loves, nor the gender of it's desire, I assure you. Rather, the heart simply and suddenly understands it is in love, and the gender of it's object of ardor is an ingrained biological predetermination, so very far from any sort of ideological selection.

I ask my heterosexual friends when they decided to be in love with their opposite sex partner and forego involvement with someone of their own gender. Not one has told me they ever made a choice, rather their biological preference simply was and is. Even those whom admit to a deep love of a member of their own sex find it does not translate, with rare exception, to a desire for any sexual expression of those feelings. Rather, most have told me that for them such an physical expression would harm their deeply valued platonic love.

As a Gay man I can no more imagine making physical love to a woman that I can imagine sexual intercourse with a tree. (And, yes, I'm a tree hugger, too!) But, my ardor of and for the noble long lived old growth sequoia stops far short of coitus and a marriage proposal - despite what anti-gay bigots would have you believe of me and my Gay brothers and sisters! Nor does my deep fondness for my Chartreux in anyway construe that I shall be proposing nuptials to either Bouvier or Athenais - despite my regard for their intellects being far superior to that of Mr. Huckabee and David Duke or the likes of certain men of the cloth - whether they're residing at Vatican City or the compound of the Phelps' Clan!

The Old Testament, the source of these mens 'truth' for my supposed 'abomination' of lying with a man, and which seems to robustly condemn me, also decries eating shellfish and laboring upon the Sabbath. Yet, I, along with the majority of the world, see the ludicrous nature of these latter prohibitions. Why, then, do so many so-called Christians cling to the former precept without question and with such passionate jubilation that their abhoration of same sex relationships seems to be supported Bibically? Well, certainly a number of these sectarian zealots are enamored, and what more, needful, of this Old Testament passage. This archaic dogmatic morsel, individually selected from amongst numerous prohibitions, (like an eye for an eye which promulgated violence) must no longer be given validity, for it allows radical bigots to override, as if with Divine authority, the actual present Word of God in the New Testament! God our Father's Word, brought to us by Christ, His Son, to specifically replace the Old Testament and its fallacies has the specific purpose of disallowing violence and hatred as legitimate - yet in the agenda of right-wing extemists it still allows wrongful justification for their deep abiding hatred of those of us whom they cannot accept or tolerate. They feel excused, and excused by God Himself, to pursue their self-indulgent crusade against our loving relationships.

This is an adopted prejudice ignorant both of Jesus Christ's message that the old laws are concluded and discharged, as well as dangerous to our spiritual life. Likewise, they revel in the harmful conceit of being illiterate of the scholarship of both theologians and historians (such as John Boswell, whose work Christianity, Homosexuality and Christian Tolerance, gives ample examples of the early Church not only tolerating but indeed blessing same sex unions); whose work provides a broad and complex range of early Classical documentation that same sex relationships were a normal part of Roman, Greek and early Christian societies. Not until 325 AD when the Nicene, or First Vatican Council - established at the forefront of the Dark Ages - when lost, or perhaps deliberately hidden from the broader world, were great accumulations of knowledge: of science, theology, astronomy, physics, philosophy, art and literature, medicine, and even plumbing - were our same sex unions uniformly found to be dangerous. Why? At least in part one must swiftly and deliberately promulgate the desperate need of the Faithful to produce offspring raised in the new religion. A decisive ploy to gain political and economic dominion as the educated old order collapsed and new generations, deprived of the choices of knowledge, were indoctrinated in the new universal, or catholic, 'truthes'.

Yes, those same sex relationships were vastly different than those we accept today regarding couples of the same gender; yet, what is too often overlooked is that marriage in general was equally far different for heterosexuals in our early civilization. Love was never the basis of such contracts between men and women, rather economics and idealogues were the deciding factor for unions. Marriages were based almost exclusively upon the financial and social benefits of these contracts. If a couple were exceedingly blessed, perhaps a certain love and mutual respect were garnered by the pair over time. More often, it was to those of the time justifiably a matter of the acquisition of wealth and political alliance, (and certainly faith, too, became political) all to further the extended families foothold in a fragile world of treacherous partisan intrigue and literal cut-throat domination.

This state of marriage remained the norm well into the beginning of the twentieth century, until at last, the idea of happiness in marriage slowly overcame the need to combine family names and fortunes to protect and build empty wealth and power. Yes, it surely still happens - it makes for marvelous drama in film and gossip rags; but overall Western couples now realize that what makes life genuinely wealthy is a loving union between two persons. Two lovers whom become each others primary helpmates and mutual source of joy, their solace and strength, both spiritually, emotionally and physically.

It cannot be too difficult, then, to extrapolate that these most basic human needs are just as vital for same sex couples as for opposite. It is more than understandable that for most of us foraging through life without the immediate love and support of one other person is the greatest loss one can imagine. Whom, then, is benefited by denying this most basic need to be loved and to love, and further to refute our ability to legally protect this love in all ways afforded by law?

It is not the State. It is already being shown that the legal commitment in civil marriage by same sex couples carries the exact same benefits for society that opposite sex marriage does - it stabilizes individuals and enables them to produce economically, benefitting the community financially as a whole; as well as developing responsibility towards community well being through social involvement and the giving of time and expertise to those whom are less fortunate. And, as marriage reflects God's love for each of us, oursame sex unions provides a spiritual platform for growth and well being.

The churches, Christian, Muslim, Buddist and all, still have in their minds a legitimate need to control whom we love, and for much the same reason. They still desire to propagate their religious beliefs in order to find some authority of what the majority believe - and still they wish to swell the ranks with children whom believe. Unfortunately, it seems to me it is less and less about the child receiving grace and the knowledge of his or her parents' God, but about controlling the thought of we, the masses; as if some new Holy War, a new Crusade, must be fought with the sword -- or rather high powered automatic weapons and nuclear bombs. Or passenger planes.

How Christ - and Allah - must abhor this way of thinking! Surely it is through His own avocation of loving each other, even our enemies (for it's usually easy to love those whom agree with us); of helping one another, even upon the Sabbath (because loving human beings is far more honorable to God than maintaining a ritual in His honor); of turning away from revenge, even if our own cheek is then exposed; not out of fear but because you witness that God is within even the man whom injures you.

Is it the family, then, that is injured by same sex marriage? This is certainly the cry of many of those whom are rooted in their opposition to our civil recognition. Yet, this too, is proven not to be the case. I know of not one family which has been harmed by my marriage to my spouse, Mark. In fact, Mark's marriages with previous female partners failed long before I knew him. They all failed in part because Mark lived a pretense in these marriages - they were ordained not so much out of love but as a shield against societal disapproval of his same sex attraction. Yet, his same sex attraction continued, and ultimately caused the demise, at least in part, of these marriages. Would it have not been better for all concerned if Mark had had an option to openly be Gay? What if the rejection of same sex unions been repudiated as ludicrous and deeply damaging prior to these commitments falsely based on sexual sameness? Much pain for all could have ben avoided.

Likewise, would my own inability to settle with one man, to end a futile search for intimacy in so many varied sexual encounters, have ended far sooner had I been given the hope, far earlier, that I too, might have known the promise of a loving and lasting marriage to a person of my own sex? It is this distinct societal disapproval of my attraction to my own sex, an attraction inborn and unchosen, which led so often to my despair of finding peace and acceptance by my peers and society. What if, instead of a secret half-life, I'd dared bring out of the closet my God given genetic attraction for those of my own sex, and fully lived this truth, refusing to fear others disapproval and reprisals?

Ah, there's no tarot card reading which can answer my question, no old woman with a crystal ball - only the precedence of experience, as recorded by others, of how being true to one's own self is the path to peace. It is God whom I thank, and my dear Mark, for the proof that living openly now as I have been created is the constant of my happiness. No, it is not easy to live openly, exposed to being hated, it is not heart warming to be despised, even by some few misguided souls. Yet, how much better it is to endure all the inevitable backlash and hostility, revulsion, animosity and disgust I do so often encounter in weak, hate-filled men, knowing that I am loved and supported by at least one man, my husband, Mark. It is a most basic human need to be loved and to love in return.

And, it is this Truth that eventually shall exonerate me of all inadequate doctrine deployed against my love of Mark. I know in God's eye, I am already living His Truth, to the best of my ability. Do not misunderstand me, I'm not without failure! I am still very much a human being, flawed and a sinner; but in this one choice of loving myself for the Gay man I am, the Gay man whom God created and whom He loves, I have chosen wisely. I will not hide my light beneath a bushel basket, nor bury my talents beneath the ground. I choose to live openly, in love with my dear spouse, for all to witness. It is, after all, my calling. God has gifted me with this sexuality, and it is a precious gift. I know He calls me to show that His gift does not devalue me, nor Mark; or the thousands of Gay and Lesbian family members we hold in our hearts. Rather, it is Christ's challenge both to me and to Mark, as well as to His many faithful believers, to open our minds and hearts to each Gay and Lesbian person whom comes into our lives, to see each of us as a blessing, a peer and an equal before God and before our civil law.

This, then, is a most clear and definite call to all of us men and women of God to ACT to restore and preserve a place at God's table in our churches and temples for all our Gay and Lesbian family. And without a single doubt, it is a call to all of us men and women of a free and Democratic society to ACT to insure the civil equality of each of our Gay and Lesbian fellow citizens before our United States Constitution.

So, if you're along for the ride of the this dark voyage, I'm fiercely recommending that having the stars is NOT enough, we've got to take the moon along, too.

Heath Ledger

2008-01-27T22:21:00.000-05:00

What can anyone say, and how can one even get it out, it chokes at you and you have to brush back the tears, the anger and rage, the stupefied dismay that someone with all the promise and brilliance of Mr. Ledger is somehow just gone. It smacks of unfairness, of a world gone mad and in it's own way is as earth shattering as the twin towers collapsing.

It can't have really happened. He can't be dead. So many of my hopes were pinned to this young man's talent, his ability to inhabit the skins of others for us, to take us blithely and care-freely out of ourselves for some few hours in his medium of actor.

There are few artists whom ever reach our souls, those few genuine talents whom give everything in order to grant us, their audiences, a powerful picture of some aspect of ourselves. They find the Everyman in their characters, and their gift is to allow us to see some part of our own foibles and triumphs in their personifications. I saw myself in Ennis Del Mar, perhaps expectedly; but also without warning in his Casanova; and that was Heath's gift to each of us. My heart was wrenched apart when Ennis clutched Jack's shirt in Brokeback Mountain, and his Casanova made me imagine even I, too, could be such a flight of fancy, elegance, sophistication and desire.

The sharp pain I feel is uncharted, unexplainable. I didn't know this man, only his characters. I've no claim to my grief for him, really - yet his death, like only a few others, has made me feel the world has changed again, stepping too, too close to unfathomable darkness. A light has gone out too soon. A star imploded. The black hole of his wake is still devouring my hope and faith.

Homophobia Rampant

2008-01-26T00:50:00.000-05:00

The news is always filled with disturbing examples of the hatred instigated and perpetuated by those whom believe that Gays and Lesbians are less than human. The latest example comes from Tucson, Arizona where 27 year old Melissa Arrington has been sentenced to ten and one half years imprisonment for a negligent homicide charge. Arrington, driving under the influence of alcohol, ran over and killed a Frenchman, L'Ecuyer, 45, a cyclist on December 1, 2006. The judge in the case had the leeway to limit incarceration to as little as four years. However, it was a monitored telephone conversation from jail which prompted the almost maximum sentence.

Arrington was recorded, a week after the death, laughing that she had done the world a service by killing a "tree hugger, a bicyclist, a Frenchman and a gay guy all in one shot."

Superior Court Judge Michael Cruikshank said the statement was "breathtaking in its inhumanity" and that the callousness and lack of remorse deserved to be taken into account in sentencing.

The only problem is that Arrington is only one of millions whom believe that L'Ecuyer's murder is somehow, if not justified, certainly of no consequence. Where do these people garner such attitudes towards other human beings? We know at least in part they are fostered by our own Churches. The Vatican's statement that Gays and Lesbians are "intrinsically evil" must be viewed as a legitimate source of deliberate homophobia, a real attempt to influence millions of faithful that those of us whom are born homosexual are of lesser value, of NO merit, and only a source of corruption in the world.

They are also reflected in much of our media; Heath Ledger's death being exploited by Fox News', John Gibson, as a source of amusement - and Mr. Ledger only played a Gay man. Gibson remarked: "Well, he found out how to quit you."

( www.afterelton.com/bgwe/1-25-08 )

I wish we could find a way to quit homophobia.

Dieux du Hommes

2008-01-25T02:20:00.000-05:00

Men, men, men! I love men - in suits, in the buff, classical or contemporary - each has an often apparent appeal. The images I've chosen to show, though, are of men whom have something more than the surface to show. Even if a glossy facade is what is most apparent. There's always something deeper, something more...

From the Ancients adoration to our immortalization of the men of today, male beauty has been preserved in marble and wood, oil and canvas, in the written word and of course through photography. Here are just a few images of sensuality I've collected which offer a glimpse of men as gods.

A Royal Flush

2008-01-24T22:48:00.000-05:00

The sweetest pair of Chartreux in the world belong to me! Take a look at these adorable baby cats, they make our lives worth living!

The Life of Reilly?

2008-01-22T18:44:00.001-05:00

Well,, today, as suggested by my therapist for so long, I actually took the initiative to leave the apartent for severla, five actually, hours today. I've appaently become so isolated in my fear of people that I must now practice going out and about by myself.

So, I asked Mark if he'd be OK of I was gone part of the day, and Spencer (our Rover) and I hit the road. No great adventure ensued, we went by several antique and fabric shops, over in the La Brea area and saw any multiple of things I could not afford to buy! But window shopping still got me out and that

s the key.

My panic attacks have come more and more frequently and indeed, they set on me today twice - but they were mild enough for me to work through them. And that was a big thing for old me, not turning the car around and coming home. So, I succeeded, at least a little! Three cheers pour moi! A Touts la Glories de la France; pardon, non, un moment: ... de la MOI!

I did have my second serious fall within two years - the last was over a year go in NYC - and under the same circumstance: inclement weather! NYC was invisible ice on the sidewalk - I just went zoom zoom into the air and landed full force upon my left hip. Today's calamity was the drenched sidewalk before Liz's hardware - my boot just slipped out from underneath me and I plopped upon my right arm and side, and somehow twisted my back. I do believe it's all just bruised and turned muscles, not bones, but I do worry a bit about damaging the new pair of hips. Just enough to make them misalign, that's my worry.

The rain, the culprit, though is still very much my friend. It's been delightful to be out in the damp moist air, and especially nice feeling so secure while driving Spencer during the few hard downfalls... four wheel drive and an adjustment to a tighter suspension make driving Spence a pleasure - and the bonus is he's so safe!

Well, I'm tired and bruised, yes for real, and I'm off to crash a bit. My only advice is don't be cocky when some cute guy smiles at you - 'cause God will drop you on your ass for humility really darn quick

Photos: Central Park in the Snow

2008-01-22T10:40:00.001-05:00

Stormy Weather

2008-01-22T09:37:00.001-05:00

It's raining hard this morning in Los Angeles. I always see the rain as a great blessing, and the heavy clouds seem like a great warm comforter dropped low across the earth's four poster. I hear the automobiles zooming past on Crescent Heights and the swish of tires through standing water.

Growing up in Arizona, in the desert, any change from heat was so welcome. And, so, in August and September, when the monsoons would arrive, I was in heaven. We had a pair of great old cottonwood trees in our yard, and as the autumn came the leaves would turn bright yellows and golds and fall upon the St. Augustine grass of the lawn. The big sticky leaves would crunch beneath my bare toes and, except for the occasional pyracantha stem hiding it's thorns amongst them, it was marvelous to wildly tear through the sea of leaves.

The moment a storm would arrive, and the skies went hazy and gray, a wind would blow up the leaves. I remember tearing off my shirt to feel the new coolness and running, helter skelter, arms waving all about, across the yard kicking up the golden crunchy carpet. I'd throw myself down eventually, and roll about, wrapped in a blanket of old gold, and watch the storm clouds rush swiftly overhead. The starck, white and gray branches of the cottonwood would sway in the wind, shedding their last few stalwart fronds, and even strips of bark, as they wrestled Zephyr in his angst.

New York had wonderful storms, filled with rain, sleet and snow! I would often take the No. 7 to the City and go up to Central Park in the rain and or snow. My best memories are of that park in storms - and the snow would blanket the grounds and monuments and trees with a depth of peace I couldn't believe.

Too fast, too swiftly, the storms would pass and the terrible heat would try to return, though it would eventually leave us for winter, such as it was. So, those few days each year when water and wind would change the world for me were precious. A breathing time, a time to live and thrive, those blustery marvelous days. I love them still, they are still too rare and fair.

There and Back Again

2008-01-22T01:31:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been forever since I posted anything here, and without any particular reason. Life has just been incredibly messy the last six or seven months and writing about politics or even personal matters has been the least of my concerns.

Christmas and New Years 2007 have come and gone and everything is changing and topsy turvy. Mom and Dad are hanging on despite their health. No news from any of the siblings. Even most of our friends seem to have dwindled away. perhaps lost n their own Financial troubles and emotional storms have swept away so many of those whom I had counted upon. The Church in her apparent wisdom has condemned my family as intrinsically evil - and sadly that freedom of speech seems to have encouraged so many, including strangers, to liberate themselves even from common courtesy towards Mark and I as a couple.

Yet, I feel closer than ever before to my spouse, Mark. The hardships, I suppose, had two possibilities: either to confirm and strengthen our love or show that we had lost our connections. The peace I feel at the veracity of our love, especially in the face of adversity, is a great consolation.

I wish I knew how to find that with my sister and brothers. I have at least managed to reestablish. I had finally asked them, after a long period of fear regarding the answer, whether they believed that the Church had stumbled in its inability to reach out the Gay community. I really thought that They would tell me the Church was right, but to my surprise they expressed such love for Mark and me, and a deep and genuine sorrow that those whom should exemplify Christ's love could sweepingly categorize us as wholly evil. Their support has given me so much joy and confirmed my belief that Christ's Vicar has misspoken and caused great harm to many, many loving men and women.

As the elections approach I pray that we will see a Democrat in office; we must move away from the Republican approach to government, which unfortunately has become theocratic, bigoted and non-inclusive of whole segments of American society. The ideals of freedom of religion and speech have been confused and muddied with a repressive form of fundalmentalism which wants to sweep away any idividual thought or way of life which it fears. The very mortar of our foundation is failing, not from the supposed erosion of family values by Gays and Lesbians, but from the deep seated hatred of the very persons whom decry Gay and Lesbian lives and families. Whom could believe that laws preventing homophobic abuse of school children would be decried as an encouragement to thwart religious belief?

Additionally, stalwart idealolgy of Republican thought have been trampled by the current administration, including economics and even private gun ownership, now under threat by Bush and his cronies. It would not surprise me to see an attempt to order martial law prior to the elections, trumped up by some threat to our security. Any attempt to do so is, to me, a certain sign of Mr. Bush and his family and friends deliberately subjugating the Constitution for personal power.

A Federalist in the Supreme Court?

2007-06-20T23:15:00.000-04:00

Following my comments you will find an article from the AP regarding the seizing of American reporters' materials by federal marshalls at a speech given by Supreme Court Justice Atonin Scalia.

The honorable Antonin Scalia. Oh, what a work is he! This ultra conservative member of our United States Supreme Court is a man whose personl views seem to be reflected consistently in his rulings. Do they also reflect the law? Let me give you some material and ideas to help you decide.

First of all there is a movement amongst many elite lifelong conservatives of our country whom whole heartedly believe that America has been misguided in interpretting our Constitution and Bill of Rights. Their argument put plainly is that the Constituion is meant to reflect only the ideas and ideals of our Founding Fathers, and only within the limited context in which they were originally written and understood. So, despite the two hundred and some year history of our Constitution and Bill of Rights being consistently interpretted by our courts as living documents (this idea of 'living documents' is the most important concept I am presenting to you here) these men and women believe that the only correct way to interpret these fundamental doctrines of our society is to base our current laws upon them in exactly the same way in which Washington, Jefferson, Adams and the other founders of our country understood them and intended them to be understood in the late eighteenth century. In other words Scalia and those who agree with him believe that men and women of the twenty-first century should live with a static and unchanging understanding of our Constitution and Bill of Rights. They want a society which does not allow for any interpretation of the principles of these documents to refect our current society. Rather they prefer that our understanding of these precepts remains inert and unvarying from their assumed intent when they were first written. This is a dangerous and frankly unorthodox approach to how we in America, in fact Western civilzation as a whole, has traditionally viewed and acted upon such documents. Including our Forefathers.

A couple of years ago I ran across an essay about painting in the Age of Enlightenment. It spoke of many things but in particular it focused on how art changed at the time of the American and French Revolutions. Art, which had always reverenced women, had made a substantial and polarizing swing to idolizing men, and in doing so reflected current political thought. It was especially apparent in French art in which men now played the dominant role - you need only view a few of Jacques Louis David's work's to understand that the new classicsm in the arts was all about men. View, for instance, the painting the 'Death of Socrates' and you will see that nobility is found exclusively in masculine prowess and male beauty - and womankind is bequaethed a subservient role or none at all. Our Forefathers viewed this art and understood it's context reflected a societal change. Jefferson in particular collected extensively and brought these paintings and their revolutionary ideas to the young American Republic. The ideals portrayed in the paintings and politics were adopted by America's founders as the model of the perfect classical state, the ideal! And it was a patriarchal society.

Why an art lesson? Well, first of all to remind us that society at the time of Jefferson, the same society which wrote that all men are entitled to freedom of speech, the pursuit of happiness and that all men are created equal was speaking about a very limited group of persons. Whom were they speaking of? White, heterosexual, upper class, eduacated and free men. And of whom were they seeking this freedom and equality from? The authority of the King of England and his Church. Whom was not included? Anyone not fitting the narrow definition and that included: women, Africans, in fact most if not all non-caucasian non-European decendant men, lower economic and social classes, certain religious groups (freedom of religion did not mean freedom to belong politically) and most certainly any man whom could be recognized to deviate from the proscribed morals of the era. So, homosexual men if known, certainly had no vote. But realistically homsexual men were almost completely underground. At this time in history only a few homosexual men, those of the old aristocracy of Europe, ever gave any public credence to their natural sexual orientation. It was a inviting death to acknowledge ones true self, for even if you were above usual legal punishments due to your rank, you were never above assisination. Open homosexuality in Europe was a death certificate.

I point this out because The Honorable Antonin Scalia, in his speech which was recorded by reporters whom were accosted for making those recordings (Scalia has little regard for the Fifth Estate or Freedom of the Press) said this:

"Question comes up: is there a constitutional right to homosexual conduct? Not a hard question for me. It's absolutely clear that nobody ever thought when the Bill of Rights was adopted that it gave a right to homosexual conduct. Homosexual conduct was criminal for 200 years in every state. Easy question."

Well, I vehemently disagree. It is not an easy question for anyone except for those whom would have us at the very least back in the closet without any civil rights, if not more happily eliminated all together. But here's the rub for most of you reading this. Scalia's extremism regarding the Constitution and Bill of Rights will hardly effect just the GLBT community of today. Scalia's belief that our country's most precious records of equality should be intrpretted only within the context of the intent of the original writers of these documents, our Forefathers, means that their view of society, limited by the knowledge of the eigteenth century society in which they lived, would and should be our view today. The Constitution and Bill of Rights, he says, were never intended as 'living documents' capable of expanding their original concept to be relevant with today's society and our understanding of ideas like "all men are created equal" must more or less remain unchanged.

Thankfully, there are many men and women, and this is proved by the tradition of how our courts and legislatures have worked for the last two centuries, whom reject the argument that our Founding Fathers intended for the Constitution and Bill of Rights to be static contracts which encompass only the beliefs and understandings of the time they were written. Instead, we believe these masterful writings were indeed left unrestricted to ensure their growth along with the growth of our fledgling country. Definitions of what 'equality' and 'pursuit of happiness' are deliberately left vague which suports the argument that their authors did indeed understand that our Constitution and Bill of Rights were the framework of our new Democracy and not the entire edifice. Time and again through our history the tradition of being open to ever broader understanding of our treasured ideals has proved their groundwork to be elegant and sound, well capable of supporting the ever branching structure of our Nation's family tree.

Equality has moved forward from our Founding father's narrow definition. It has progressed to understand that the color of one's skin has no bearing whatsoever upon one's ability to think, learn, worship or lead. And again, with end of segregation, we have conquered obsolete views that one's racial heritage can excude you even in part from participation in our society. Likewise, women have no longer to be at the beck and call nor the mercy of men, either as wife and homemaker or entrepneur and leader. They too have been recognized to be eqaul in all aspects to their male counterparts in our society. And, so it must and will be for gays and lesbians, transgendered and bisexuals. The false inferiority card which we have been dealt in the past will be withdrawn; for gays and lesbians, too, are citizens and must be treated equally in America both today and tomorrow.

Judge Scalia is the worst kind of a bigot. He supports his horrific views by distorting the facts, rewriting history to support his distortions and, I believe, influencing court decisions with his personal moral and religious views. His prejudice and his record of voting will eventually be looked back upon with the same horrorific disbelief with which we view those persons whom voted against integregation, whom supported slavery and whom denied the inherent dignity of women: lack-luster ineffectual zealots. But are Scalia and his ilk yet a danger to the living, breathing, growing documents of our Constitution and our Bill of Rights? Absolutely. This man, and others like him, have been granted incredible power which may be used for good or ill. And so it is up to us, individually and collectively, to use our greatest asset and privelege - our vote - to insure that in future those whom we elect will appoint men and women whom believe as we do. That indeed, ALL men and women (of all ethnic, religious, gender and sexual orientation) are CREATED EQUAL!

Initial Report Backed Seizing Reporters' Tapes Of Scalia Speech To Conservative Christians
by The Associated Press

Posted: June 20, 2007 - 7:00 pm ET

(Hattiesburg, Mississippi) Federal marshals broke no laws when seizing tape recordings from reporters from The Associated Press and the Hattiesburg American during a 2004 speech by Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, an initial agency investigation found.

The marshals service's general counsel "reviewed the allegations and determined that there were no violations of the laws," according to a summary report of the April 2004 investigation, according to the Hattiesburg newspaper.

Later that year, the Marshals Service acknowledged in a lawsuit settlement that it violated the federal Privacy Protection Act, which protects journalists from having their work product seized by the government.

The conflict began in April 2004 when a deputy marshal demanded that the two reporters erase recordings of Scalia's remarks at Presbyterian Christian School.

In one portion of the speech to law students at the university Scalia brought up the issue of homosexuality. (story)

"Question comes up: is there a constitutional right to homosexual conduct? Not a hard question for me. It's absolutely clear that nobody ever thought when the Bill of Rights was adopted that it gave a right to homosexual conduct. Homosexual conduct was criminal for 200 years in every state. Easy question."

The reporters had not been told before the speech that they could not use tape recorders, and their news organizations sued the agency.

The lawsuit ended in September 2004 with the Marshals Service acknowledging the law violation and saying it had created new procedures for working with the media. Under the new policy, marshals have "no role or responsibility regarding photography, audiotaping and videotaping at such events except when the personal security and safety of the federal judicial officer is believed to be in jeopardy."

The newspaper had requested the investigation report and other documents in 2004 under the Freedom of Information Act, but the Marshals Service had refused. The Justice Department ordered the papers released last month.

Leonard Van Slyke, the newspaper's attorney, said the documents don't say whether disciplinary action was taken in the case.

"I would have expected there to be some kind of disciplinary action taken against the marshal or her supervisor because they failed to understand their duty," Van Slyke said.

During Scalia's speech, the deputy marshal, Melanie Rube, took a digital recorder from AP reporter Denise Grones when Grones resisted her demand to erase recordings of the justice's remarks. Grones then showed her how to erase the recording. Hattiesburg American reporter Antoinette Konz then surrendered her tape and, after the speech, got it back only after erasing it in front of the marshal.

The marshal said she acted at the direction of Scalia.

The exchange occurred in the front row of the school auditorium while Scalia spoke on the Constitution. Scalia later apologized and said he would make it clear in the future that recording his remarks for the use of the print media would not be a problem.

Also among the documents are copies of apologies that Scalia sent to Konz and Grones.

The release of the documents is a victory for the newspaper and the public, Van Slyke said.

"I think it's important that the record be complete and the public have access to what actually happened and the statements people made," Van Slyke said.

©365Gay.com 2007

of Sinners, Faith and Forgiveness

2007-04-16T23:22:00.000-04:00

I was praying today for guidance, and especially for Mark, who is at present attempting to have Anna and her husband reimburse us for the expense of our moving, as was promised almost two years ago as an enticement for Mark to take this job in New York City. I've had no little concern for this, as many of you know, for all of the tangible assets we own are still at risk of loss, sitting in a warehouse and potentially rotting in Los Angeles. While they represent our memories, as well as our few assets, even should they have to be sold for us to live, we need at least to have them made available, and in reasonable condition, for us to do so.

While praying I also asked Our Lord for some comfort regarding my upcoming surgery, for which I cannot receive prior to its implentation the Sacrament of the Sick, not knowing any clergy here who may not ask me to revoke my belief in my marriage before administering me the blessing. Despite many whom believe as I do within the Church, the current hostility towards gay Catholics and Gay clergy, even to interferrence with our civil rights (once forbidden by the very Church now practicing it so strongly) makes finding a confessor and spiritual director almost impossible without an introduction.

I use the Jerusalem Bible as my translation of choice for Holy Scripture. The accuracy of the passages is by far the most reliable available, for the text is translated directly from the original Hebrew and Greek texts, not from one of the many translations made centuries after the events. The scripture fell open to the Introduction to St. Paul and I chose to read. Knowing Jesus as I do, I believed that there was a message even in the introduction for me - and it is so beautiful that I wanted to share it with you.

"The danger at Colossae {they are speaking about heresy in referencing "danger"} was due to the basically Jewish (Col. 2:16) speculations they had taken up about the celestial or cosmic powers. These were the powers thought to be responsible for the regular movement of the cosmos, and the speculations about them, much influenced by Hellenistic philosophy, attached an importance to these powers that threatened the supremacy of Christ. Paul accepts these cosmological premisses and, far from expressing any doubts about these powers, he associates them with the angels of Jewish tradition, 2:15; all he is concerned about is to show their subordinate place in the scheme of salvation. Their task had been to 'mediate' the Law, and to administer it and that is now accomplished: Christo Kyrios, Christ the Lord, has established a new order of things and he now governs the cosmos. Raised up to heaven he is above all the cosmic powers and has stripped them of their ancient dignities, 2:15. Because he is the Son, the Father's image, he was their lord already when the world was made; now in the new creation he is their confirmed and absolute master, for gather into him is the pleroma, the fullness of Being, that is to say the fulness of both God and all that exists through Gods creative power. 1:13-20."

Why are we still fighting about science and what the Bible says! We're told right here not to do that very thing. While this is the intoduction it is simply describing and explaining the many letters Paul wrote to various Christian sects scattered throughout Roman cities. This passage comforted me on two levels. First, Paul, formerly Saul, was a Roman. I wish he'd kept his name, Saul - so much more elegany and masculine! But, I sidetrack us. Paul understood implicitly the culture to which he was speaking becuase it was his culture and he did not 'dilly daly' about the details - neither how the cosmos moved, (nor the number of angels on a pin head, as I think of it) - but quite simply writing that it didn't matter anymore whatsoever how the cosmos moved because God already has ALL of it covered. We can learn, then, that whether the world was created through natural selection as Darwin suggests or in the seven days of Genesis, it is God whom is responsible. Whatever our human understanding is, and we have been shown by history time and time again how limited our vision, our fullness of understanding, truly is, God already knows all sides and has incorporated them all into his Being. (Wow! What a relief this would have been to Galileo if this Jerusalem Bible translation and notes had been available, he might have kept his thumb and been able to publish.)

Also, Paul, as a Roman, knew all the political games. I think it's Jesus suggesting I ask, and I have, Saint Paul's intercession in understanding the political games of the Church today. It hasn't quite struck me from my seat in a lighting bolt just yet, but it is a little comfort. God has already seen and known and understood this, the persecution of his Gay sons and daughters, even by his Church, and will show his justification for us and to us.

I have also been frightened of the upcoming minor surgery because I'm unable to confess and have the blessing of the sick - and so what I know is also being said here on a personal level to me is that Jesus, and God his Father, already know my heart and have taken all this into consideration. I need not fear, either for myself, or for Mark and Joy, even should anything happen to me.

I also went on to read in Romans as my curiosity was peaked, and I read from 3:25-31, 4:1-18. Wow, again. Jesus is granting me so much comfort I hardly dare share it with you! I hope you will read it and if possible choose the J.B. translation, as it is the most accurate translation of the ancient texts. (It's imprimatur and nihil obstat are quite clearly printed following the title page, should this concern anyone reading whom is Catholic.)

Paul is speaking to the sect in Rome about the faith of men. He uses Abraham as the example, for he says this is whom we're all descended from, and it is oh so very comforting. He reiterates that scripture says:

"Abraham put his faith in God, and this faith was considered as justifying him. If a man has work to show, his wages are not considered as a favour, but as his due: {I'm directly consoled, and even teased a bit, about Mark's situation here! I could hug both Paul and Jesus for this bit of hope and humor!} but when a man has nothing to show except faith in the one who justifies sinners, then his faith is considered as justifying him."

This is the embrace of a Creator whom deeply loves me, us; despite sins and failures. He squeezes us all tightly, as a parent its children, brushes away tears and holds us all to remind us and take away our fear that by not always fulfilling the Law as others say it is required, God still knows our hearts and our faith and accepts these without reservation. The only proviso being our faith is genuine.

Paul writes further:

"Not justified by the Law."

"The promise of inheriting the world was not made to Abraham and his descendants on account of any law but on account of of the righteousness which consists in faith. If the world is only to be inherited by those who submit to the Law, then faith is pointless and the promise worth nothing. Law involves the possibility of punishment for breaking the law - only where there is no law can that be avoided.* That is why what fulfills the promise depends on faith, so that it may be a free gift and available to all of Abraham's descendants, not only those who belong to the Law but also those who belong to the faith of Abraham who is the father of all of us."

"...Punishment for breaking the law - only where there is no law that can be avoided!" This is what I have been trying to say all along, and for which and why satan was and is, if I may be blunt, hell bent, to cause me to doubt my own faith, the faith taught me by the Church: that in a matter of personal conscience I am free to follow my conscience. My faith that I am acting morally and as a righteous man in my commitment to my marriage to Mark is justified; the law cannot exist, the law cannot exist, which can be more important than my faith; my faith is the right and holy act I believe it to be. My faith that Mark acts nobly within the guidelines of his own faith, which is different from mine on many points is insignificant (i.e. angels on pin heads!); for here his faith is clearly established as being just as valid and genuine, perhaps more so, than mine: for it is far more childlike, and therefore pleasing, to our Father, if we are to listen to the words Jesus spoke elsewhere in the NT. Mark just believes in his redemption, and did not need to have Paul or Jesus confirm for him that he is loved and saved in any scripture passage today. And so it is with our daughter, too. It is enough now that I know that I and her Dad showed her Jesus is her saviour, she will find her footing with him, too. I have not failed her in this matter.

It also says in scripture: "...faith, hope and charity, and the greatest of these is love." It is an amazing thing to be freed of death, not only because of God's love, but because of my hope, my faith. I ask God to never allow me to doubt my faith.

Now, if my faith were only the size of a mustard seed, which apparently it's not and still needs to grow quite a bit to reach even such a large diameter as this, than I know we will be safe with Jesus, my Lord, no matter what. Even if we do not get our things back. And even if that will be very difficult on me. But for now I choose to believe that Paul is reminding me that Jesus will not leave me or my precious Mark without the means to create a livelihood for our family - and that certainly includes Mark being reimbursed for the nearly two years of hard work in which he has been greatly cheated of his full due.

Jesus, as with the movement of the cosmos that so concerned the Colossians, has seen and understood and brought us fully into his Being: our little problems are watched over and so many blessings are given. I have received in my long marriage to Mark the great blessing of not being alone all these years, as i had expected, but of being given a family - and of being loved by a man who knows all my faults and takes a chance on me anyway. If mark is capable of so much for me, than to paraphrase, how much more must God.

* Lit. 'For law brings anger whereas (var. 'for') where there is no law there is no lawlessness either'

Warm Blue Bellies

2007-04-09T18:23:00.000-04:00

This afternoon I returned home rather tired and cold, and earlier, I think, than the cats expected me; for they were curled up in separate spots sleeping and did not make their usual leap for the door when I came through. So, I thought, we shall not fight this groggy, cold nap which is creeping over me, too, even while still bundled in my overcoat and carrying case. Athenais and Bouvier greeted me sleepily and then, Miss A., in all her demure charm, allowed me the pleasure of holding her upside down and nuzzling her nose and face with my nose and whiskers. She purred - a very good sign for nappers like us - and so I set her on the bed where she curled up and returned to her garden of dreams.

Greeting Beau Beau with a scratch on his strong brow and along the scent glands each side of his mouth, I removed my coat and case and put on a 'sleepy' tee shirt, dragged the phone into the bedroom and climbed in next to m Miss A. and called M. Bouvier, who soon joined us; and at last we all napped. Or at least they did, for every time I began to doze the phone would ring again. At last, unable to drift off, I put out a hand to each of my precious little charges, sleeping in blue balls of fur side by side, and gently, ever so tenderly, stroked their fur and slipped my hands into the warmth of their bellies. They curled more deeply about my hands and for a few minutes we three were as one and I felt as if I were a cat myself, with the most precious of kittens in my care.

As I searched their faces with my eyes I saw them each as they once were, so small and infinitely tiny, babies with only one need, to be nursed and loved; loved with a rough tongue wash and a teat full of warm milk. And the warmth of it all was gentle and lovely and good and touched my heart; and I knew there is a God, a Creator and a Lover of such magnificent generosity that He could give to me such wealth.

It is a marvelous responsibility to Love; yet for every moment of tenderness there will be a heart-ache that will rip the soul from it's very tabernacle. It is only these small glimpses, the feeling of a heart's beat, the breath of little blue cats, hands held tenderly against each warm belly and a little head resting near to my own face, that remind me of the worth of the pain.

Zoo-ology!

2007-03-24T21:45:00.000-04:00

We won't die secret deaths anymore!

2007-03-24T02:05:00.000-04:00

The Light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it...

in the Heat of the Night

2007-03-19T18:35:00.000-04:00

My dearest, sweetest Athenais is in 'heat', or more correctly, estrus. I just grieve for her discomfort. She first becomes rather affectionate, and then begins pacing, and bleating. It is not a 'meow', nor is it it a hiss or snarl, it is, like a sheep, a bleat. If you or I were to say 'hmm' and add a slight clearing of the throat to it, that would be close, but not the sound exactly. There is no sound that is like it, exactly. I believe even amongst cats, no one cries in estrus quite like our dear Athenais Sophie!

I cannot imagine what her tiny body is going through - it wants to make babies, of course. Everything in Athenais' tiny wee body is crying out to perform its natural duty of reproduction. She wants to mate, not for the enjoyment of love making, but because her core being, down to her very molecules, is crying out to reproduce offspring, to perpetuate here gene pool, to give the world more kittens!

I will say that Miss Athenais would make a magnificent mother. Should she have a litter, she would do everything to make certain each little blind ball of scarcely any fur was fed her warm rich milk from her swollen teats, and each then licked and washed to a fare-the-well before curling about her wee charges and sleeping as they slept with her. If one should stir or cry, she would nuzzle the bambino, two or three good swipes of her corse tongue, and push it towards a milk engorged nipple; or let it fall back asleep with it's siblings.

This is the mother my dearest Athenais would make, and somehow, despite the agreement I've signed and the knowledge of countless unwanted kittens who shall never have homes, when I hear my dearest litter girl bleat for her children to be I want nothing more than to rush out and find her a sire.

I will not of course. I will keep my agreements, and as soon as finances permit, I will have my darling Athenais spade. Some fewer kittens will come into an unwelcoming world - and that is a good thing.

But someday, in our life after together, we will do things naturally, and my sweet natured, energetic and life bursting-out-of-her darling Athenais will have the chance to give birth and nurture as she was intended by God's grace to do...

Until then, Athenais and I will bear what we must, together, until this estrus has passed!

of Angels and Men in the Snow

2007-03-19T06:26:00.000-04:00

There was magic everywhere. I simply do not have any other description for the experience. Mark and I, with some determination, because we are still not used to the cold, and the slippery conditions made the possibility of a fall and a secondary back injury all the more likely; nevertheless, we went only forward. Leaving the car parked on Fifth Avenue we ventured across the snow-plowed streets and into the Park. The Park. Central Park. It, I suppose, carries many hundreds of thousands of stories in it's memories; but today it was building new ones for me and for Mark.

There was some disagreement, Mark wanting to stick to what he saw was a cleared path, but which limited severely what we'd be able to see, to take in, and I do mean 'take in', because it quickly became about bringing the beauty of the snow covered lawns and buildings into our spiritual beings.

Mark and I climbed a short walk from the car drive near 72ndStreet and came across a great snow covered lawn. Off to one side stood a lovely old red brick building, it's slate roof steeply pitched and bereft of snow at all but the edges, its painted white wooden door and window frames gleaming, providing in the quintessential New England picture. We trudged forward across the new snow, leaving our unfortunate foot marks to spoil the smooth even coat of powdery white crystal ice. And then, for me, it happened. Joy! Just incredible joy! I laughed out loud for the first time, I think, in years, with utter and complete elation; and throwing my arms in the air I ran to Mark and swung my arms about him and gave him a big smacker, right on the mouth! "Darling, this is wonderful!" And waving my arms about, rather like the silly robot on 'Lost in Space' I imagine, I ran forward, snapping pictures, and truly happy, left all cares behind me, at least for a little time..

Ahead of us was the dome of a lovely building. Rising from lower ground than where we stood, it was the dome of the building which we saw best, rising above a long wooden arbor, covered with the twisted, dark trunks of winter's sleeping wisteria. How lovely, the deep dark mysterious branches against the purity of the fallen dusty snow.

Mark called me from the far right end of the arbor, where he had found for us a descent upon ice and snow covered stairs. We both, stepping sideways, and holdingthe old iron and wood rail, managed our way down. No falls! At the bottom we found that our domed building was in fact the back of the Concert Shell, and we paused to take in it's Beaux Arts Neo-classical beauty - then off I ran after Mark, who was cold, and wanting to keep moving, had trotted onwards towards the Bethesda Terrace. Mark had already reached the bottom of the staircase there, and was wandering through the passage, looking upwards all the while, at the newly restored Minton Tile ceiling, when at last I reached him again.

The bright and garish colored tiles are set against the somber brown stone of the terrace's walls and arches. But, as we walkedthrough the dark covered passage, one lost interest in the tiles as the excitement rose, from my heart to my head, pounding, it rose; for as you came to the second set of arches you sucked in your breath as the great water-works came into view, with the mighty angel, Bethesda, crowning the top of the lofty fountain. One could only pause, if one had any sense of beauty, and stare. She, Bethesda, let you know she was waiting there - for you.

The huge bronze and blue stone fountain stands some twenty odd feet or better above you, and Bethesda, herself, stands, wings spread wide as if just that very second she'd alighted, upon the top, holding her staff of lilies; and with a most gentle gesture of her other open hand she beckons us forward. So, forward we came. Where we had stood shoulder to shoulder and arm in arm beneath the brownstone arch, we let slip slowly our grasp, like rolled sleeves loosed and falling, down to our hands and then, gently, fingers parted as we both were drawn without hesitation to our Angel.

She is our angel, you know; she may have once been here to beckon the survivors of the Civil War of this Country, calling those battle weary and broken souls to her healing waters. She surely beckoned those lonely men toward her then as gently and surely as she now, today, calls to me and to my Mark. She is ours now; she is now, for this time, the Angel of AIDS, the Angel of Hope. Hope pushing through the despair, as Tony Kushner wrote: "This disease will be the end of many of us, but not nearly all, and the dead will be commemorated and will struggle on with the living." And, I knew at that moment we were far from alone on the icy cold snow covered plaza, me with my dearest Mark. No, with us all about us were the hundreds of thousands of the lost, all gathered again, hand in hand with us, looking to Bethesda for comfort and for news of God... and it was a moment of utter peace, joy, despair, tears, abandonment and longing. Every emotion I've ever felt in my dark lonely trip with my companion spectre, AIDS, was suddenly filling me, and it was then, without doubt, that Bethesda turned to me and smiling, said, LIVE! I couldn't hear her, and I did not see her lips move, but I was sure of understanding: I felt deeply in my soul the Word. I knew, it was a call to life, a CALL to LIVE. To go on, and to BE GLAD, really glad, for each and every day I, we, still have to swallow cold snowy air in this great hapless city, hanging to the edge of a continent spinning around in space on this little planet, Earth.

And, so, I shook and loosed my grasp of my spectre, and I loosed the grasp of all my brothers who had gone before, and that was hard to do and it hurt, to lose them again; and as the great plaza cleared of the ghosts of the past I stood again presently and present with, Mark, and a few others tha were there hapenstance with us, bundled in brightly colored wraps. And Mark, who was feeling deeply the cold was suddenly hurrying away. My heart was torn, I wanted to stay, to call back my friends, my brothers lost to AIDS who were going, and weeping, tell my story of pain; but Bethesda, well, she laughed. I heard a clear strong bell, pealing out, like laughter. I know I did. Looking up Bethesda smiled, it seemed, to me, and in my heart I heard her: "Love! Love, now! Love him, Love Mark. Don't linger, Donnie, amongst the shadows here...."

I took a huge deep breath of crisp frozen air and scaning the hillside with my damp eyes, saw him, saw my Mark, climbing the path to the hill top. He was cold and alone and I wanted to be with him, to hold him and warm him. After him I chased, my camera still snapping photos along the way; but at last I reached him, sitting in the running car, old George we call it, trying to warm his hands. I took his hands, his beautiful hands, which have touched me for so many years, and I gently rubbed them to make the circulation warm him. And I remembered his hands, his hands of years, his hands which touch my body in intimate places when we make love. Touch me to scratch the unreachable itches!. Touch me, as his hands and arms embrace me when I'm filled with sorrow and cry. And, in a moment I saw how important and beautiful Mark's hands are, the hands he's given to me, to hold, to carry his ring, to grasp when we marry; and all that I have ever dreamed of having I suddenly knew I possessed now already. Completely! My great dear handsome Lover, Husband, Friend and the dearest Man ever there was, frail and full of strength, the Man who has given himself to me.

I promised Bethesda, sitting in that car, rubbing his cold fingers, that I will not forget the gift of our snowy day; that I will hold it in my heart always, and more, I will make it an act each day to care for and bless these his hands, this union, this bond, this marriage of Man and Man, of Mark and Me.

"You are fabulous creatures. and I bless you: MORE LIFE!

The great work does indeed begin, now, again, with each one of us. With mark and with Me. Blessings, Bethesda!

Angels in America, a Meditation

2007-03-17T06:13:00.000-04:00

by Tony Kushner

THIS DISEASE
WILL BE THE
END OF
MANY OF US,
BUT NOT
NEARLY ALL,

And the dead will be
commemorated and will struggle
on with the living,

AND
WE
ARE
NOT
GOING
AWAY,

We won't die secret deaths

anymore.

The world only
spins forward,

WE WILL BE CITIZENS.
THE TIME HAS COME.

Bye now,

You are fabulous creatures,
and I bless you:

MORE LIFE.

THE
GREAT
WORK
BEGINS!

Artworks:
aaaaaa
Ghosts of Sutro Park, Enhanced Digital Photograph, 2003, D. Larson
aaaaaaaa
Vous has AIDS, Oil on Canvas, 36" x 48", 2001, D. Larson

Bethesda, Angel of the Waters

2007-03-15T20:17:00.000-04:00

This is the lovliest area I've seen in New York to date, and will become, is already, where my mind and heart lie and rest in this tumultuous city. It of course holds a special place in my heart as it is the setting for several scenes in Tony Kushner's play; Angles in America. This play has been riveted into my heart and psyche; it is the most beautifully told story of the AIDS epedemic I have ever read or scene enacted. It has several scenes which always make me weep, for those lost to us and for myself, if I'm honest, as so much of the play reflects in every way my life as a gay man who acquires AIDS,

The fountain was designed and sculpted by Emma Stebbins in 1868 and is made of solid bronze set upon a basin and columns of blue stone. It is an ethereal thing to me, despite it's visual (and real) weight, it seems almost to me as though at any moment it might disappear - or at leat Bethesda will suddenly lift herself up and shoot lke a star into the heavens as fast as an arrow on the wing.

Today is the first time I have actually gotten to be with Bethesda, and for about an hour I viewed her from all sides. The weather had turned cold and icy; the rain which swept through earlier seemed to be now falling in the tiniest bits, and was almost frozen, so that when it touched your face it felt as though you had been struck for a moment by a tiny bit of sharpest diamond ice cold and burning hot all at the same instance. That is the spell of her.

Should you visit New York City you must spend some time with Bethesda, she has become more than a statue in a park; she has become a legend. A legend, which may still be seen, and if you have the heart, felt. Deeply felt.

The Official Site for Central Park says this about Bethesda:

"In their 1858 Greensward plan, Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux called the architectural heart of the Park "The Water Terrace," for its placement beside the Lake and the grand fountain in the center. Once the Angel of the Waters fountain was unveiled in 1873, however, the area became forever known as Bethesda Terrace. At the dedication, the artist's brochure quoted the Biblical verse from the Gospel of St. John 5:2-4: "Now there is at Jerusalem by the sheep market a pool, which is called… Bethesda…whoever then first after the troubling of the waters stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had."

Do come and visit her. Bring whatever is magical and spiritual with you for she will find a way then, to speak to your heart!

FROM THE PLAY, the CLOSING VERSES:

"This disease will be the end of many of us, but not nearly all,

And the dead will be commemorated and will struggle on with the living

And WE are NOT going away,

We won't die secret deaths anymore,

The world only spins forward.

WE WILL BE CITIZENS>

THE TIME HAS COME.

Bye Now, You are FABULOUS CREATUREs, and I BLESS YOU;

MORE LIFE.

THE GREAT WORK BEGINS!>

of Presidents and Preachers

2007-03-15T06:10:00.000-04:00

I am leaning towards John Edwards as my choice for Presidential candidate for the Democratic Party. Of the major contenders at this point he is the strongest voice against remaining in Iraq, and is opposed to allowing a further escalation of troops. Will he stick to these principals? Only time will tell...

However, I am still unaware of his position regarding same sex marriage. Both Hilary and Osama are opposed - so I am opposed to them; at least until one of them becomes the only choice between a single serving of evil versus a triple decker deluxe order...

An evangelical pastor, the Rev. R. Albert Mohler Jr., has upset both evangelicals and those of us who support GLBT equality in the civic arena. How? He has thrown on the table for the religious right that there may well be genetics involved in whether a person is homosexually orientated - that's a big 'no, no' for those who want to tell us that homosexuality is a choice, and that with enough prayer anyone can be cured. In this respect, Mohler's words are good news to those of us who believe a person's sexuality is indeed biologically based, and not a matter of choice.

However, Mohler, goes on to say that it would be well within a Christian parent's rights, upon discovery that there unborn child has a gay gene, to manipulate the fetus in order to eradicate in the unborn child that which is considered to be morally tainted.

Wow! this is just horrific on so many levels - are we to presume that anyone can isolate the cause of a person's sexuality so precisely that it can be eradicated or changed in vitro? I don't think so. So, the Christian right begins thoughts of 'playing God' with unborn children! If there was ever any doubt that the movement of the so called 'faith based communities' to change homosexuals was NOT based only in a blind rage to continue presenting the world it's own myopic view... well, your doubts should be put to rest. They are so anxious to prevent us being around that they'll experiment with fetuses! Good going, Dr. Mohler, another shining example of God's love expressed through His flock! NOT!

God gave me my sexuality as a gift - as surely as He gave my parents theirs. It is my individual right to decide how God wishes me to use that gift... and it is my burden to face Him at the end of my life with the fruits (no pun is intended!) of my labor, good or bad.

Methinks that it is time for a great number of 'holy' people to go back to their scripture basics, something about removing a log from their own eye before the splinter in mine... yes?

YOU! F#@@*T!

2007-03-13T00:27:00.000-04:00

"...tolerance is just one degree lighter than intolerance."

The above quote of Rupert Everett's does rather make the point. The whole idea of being 'tolerated' is hardly akin to being anything like loved and wanted, or held in esteem and with pride. The idea that as gay and lesbians we should settle for 'tolerance' when it comes to citizenship is ludicrous. It clearly establishes a second class status, which when wants a home or a job or to marry just won't 'do'. Whether one likes homosexuality or not is not the point; when you are designated 'second class' it's OK for those designated as 'first class' people, those who think they are "first class", like Ann Coulter, to call whomever they please a 'f-----t'. Not acceptable in my book. The only one who gets to call me by that word is me, as a way to 'own' this derogatory and negative concept. I used to think it was OK to use it amongst a group of gay men, jokingly, but I think considering the current climate of inclusion (none) that it isn't; and that as a group, we homosexual gentlemen need to make it clear that you - and you, and you, and you - cannot call us names, and especially not this particularly offensive word.

Words can never hurt me is such a childish untruth - though the reply to verbal taunts is of course to pretend - PRETEND - they have no effect; but frankly, I remember being called nasty names eluding to my sexuality quite clearly: each instance from grade-school on is etched like laser monograming in my memory. Words do hurt. They do injure. They cause harm. My word! If they didn't, pundits like Coulter would be out of a job!

I CAN take a ribbing. I can laugh at gay jokes and be amused by depictions of gay men in all our foibles and stereotypes. We need to be able to laugh at ourselves, to take a joke with good humor and to not take offense where none is given. But, whoa, when offensive is not only given, but delivered with a good couple of sharp, hard twists of the knife, well, then we had all better stand up, be counted and shout loudly: "NO WAY"!

Coulter calling John Edward's a f-----t, presumably because of his statement saying that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is antiquated and harmful,( not only to gays and lesbians wishing to serve, but to our country in need of those who WANT to serve ), is one of those attacks which must get a "No Way!" from all of us: Gay and Straight, Democrat and Republican. Why? Because it damages ALL of US.

This is an attack which is multi-barbed deliberately to injure as many people as possible simply to please a core of frustrated, angry bigots who must hate to enjoy living. Coulter can pander to these people as much as she wants, and I can assure you she will continue to do so. (I don't think she has the capacity to either learn about or understand anyone with whom she disagrees; not anymore, and that is a sad thing for her. Really.)

But, while I can write in this blog that I disagree with Coulter, that I don't think much of her misuse of whatever education she has achieved and even that I actually feel a strong dislike for the woman, despite the fact I know her only from her political jargon; well, it is very, very different than calling her, say: a vile, man-eating little C*#T. (I typed it out, and realized I couldn't leave it in print - I guess Ms. Coulter will relish what she'll mistake in me as the ineffectual musings of a F#GG*T). I can't call her THAT and remain a fully vested human being.

If I'd left it there to read who would have been injured? Coulter? Hardly! ( And I can tell you she hates that word in the way every woman hates it, and maybe more so because... because she will see an element of ownership in that description. ) If it were even so simple as my calling her that name where only she could hear it, doing so would injure gravely. I honestly would have a difficult time not saying it to her, but if I did, if I did such a low, miserly, nasty thing I would regret having done so, even to the She-Devil. But more than that, the word injures all women, demoralizes and strips women of their dignity and equality - and that's why using it against Ms. Coulter, however tempting, isn't worth it. Because, even she, Ms. Coulter, is created in the image of our Creator, and so deserves, despite all her profoundly immoral words and actions, to be seen as a human being and of value.

Your opponent has value. To God. To a husband or a wife. To a son or a father. Value. And that is why using words like 'F#@@*T'or N#@@%R or K#@E or C*#T is hateful, is harmful and is without any doubt, completely unacceptable in the language of our political speak. They are not 'jokes' or 'humorous', they are vile and dehumanizing.

If we fail to see what is human, even in our enemy, than we fail to be human. And, well, I don't need to expound on what happens when a group of us stops being human, but I'll throw out a few words:

"Guantánamo" "Serbia" "Auschwitz" "Dachau" "Rwanda" "Chechnya" "Bosnia" "Darfur"and it goes on and on: will Ms Coulter and her ilk be responsible for the list coming to include "America"?

Yes.

And we will also be responsible. Responsible for allowing her, and those like her, to go unchallenged. There are no words which cannot be given the power to injure mortally and destroy utterly. And Ms. Coulter is awfully proud of the ones she uses to do just that. Let's remind her we don't like it: "NO WAY!"

Padre Pio's Prayer

2007-03-10T16:02:00.000-05:00

Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close, and life passes, death, judgement, eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You. It is getting late and death approaches. I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows. O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!

the Catchers of Birds and Mice and Hearts

2007-03-10T00:52:00.000-05:00

So, they are here, with me, these dainty darling furry creatures, chasing colored feathers on a stick and green foam balls across the hardwood floors; with golden eyes they watch me, my every move observed, waiting should I cast a toy or wave the feathers for them to chase and pounce and kill! At night, beside me, they lay curled in balls of blue; dreaming of chasing flittering birds and catching small soft juicy mice, and they are happy and content, except when dinner is wanted! Then they ponder my every move, and study every motion of my hands, my feet, my eyes - and when I speak they lean in to see if it will be to them, to say to them, Babies! Darlings! Are you hungry now?! Do you want your mousey now? And, without a sound, they know and follow me to the cabinet where lays the storied cans of mouse, all yummy, wet and good, and when they see it, piled upon a plate and lowered to the floor where they shall eat, they are simply, deeply happy. But better yet for me they come afterwards to wash and curl and nap with me, my darling catchers of birds and mice, of foam and feathers, of hearts and minds and souls and dreams!

Sage & Roses

2007-03-09T20:25:00.000-05:00

The velvet padded leaves of sage last longest of all the herbs with a little care in the ice box; and hung upside down with roses in the air, dry beautifully. My dear friend, Julia, has blessed my home with sage, wrapped and dried, and then lighted, wafted about the wisps of scented smoke to perfume and purify our house in Amsterdam. Not having a priest handy for a blessing, it was a beautiful ritual which Julia borrowed from Native Americans, as a way to clear the space of negative spirits and influences. Since then, I often keep dried sage nearby, to remind me of Julia and her gentleness, along with roses, to remind me of her sweetness and laughter and humor. All of which I believe no doubt has had as much influence on dispelling evil from my home, and anywhere she graces with her presence, as the ritual of the sage.

MORTE

2007-03-03T14:36:00.000-05:00

When do we begin to die? A scientist will perhaps say it is the moment we are conceived that life begins inevitably to ebb from us. A priest may say it is when we ignore God. A doctor when the brain no longer functions. But I think it is more personal than any of these; death begins when we no longer hold a willingness to survive. And, that, despite rumors to the contrary, is not a place as easily reached as many believe.

It is a mysterious prosepct, this holding on and not letting go. Fingers must be pried from the sill. However much one may wish to die, what one is more likely to be saying is that one desperately wishes that life's present circumstances will change. It is only when we throttle all hope of the present becoming the past that we finally do concede, some place deep in our souls, that it would be better to be gone from the suffering we endure.

Sometimes, we reach this dark abode in transit, and it is then that a soul must not tarry. Swiftly, choose to move! Nearly anything will do. Even taking a shower may save one from the utter hopelessness of it all. Just stand, disrobe and step into the streaming water and wash away the moments death.

Threshold of Revelation

2007-03-02T07:47:00.000-05:00

Sitting in the blue light of the rainy morning with windows open I am quick again; in the cold wetted dawn is revival.
Crisp somehow.
Unmarked somehow.
It lets one breathe again a little while, before cool wettish fingers will oblige the window close, before the light broadens too greatly, before the blue is gone and the morning is just grey and wet;
For a few moments all is peace and still and good and you can smell the dew and the damp blooming.

The Great Work Begins

2007-03-01T23:43:00.000-05:00

I wonder down here on the ground so far from the stars and so far from where the Universe is apparently expanding this very moment effortlessly, what I was born for, for what do I live and of what shall I become when only my thought remains? Will I cherish and hold onto all this suffering? I wonder when I lie in bed and cannot scratch my back what it will be like when I can do nothing but think, and watch as my body decays? Will my mind be fluid and effortless and expansive as the Universe? Will I be free and traveling without fear or care, in hand with a Creator and a God I have sought for so long? Or will I be what I fear most? A small, infinitesimally small mind, grown stale and rank feeding on it's own fear and self-loathing until nothing is left of love? Is that not then, Hell, to have lived and learned nothing of what it means to be great and broad and full of possibility? If this is to be my fate, that I should bind myself to such a Hell and to such an end, instead of pressing always to the new beginning, then let it be said again as it was said before: better had I never been born! If I have nought the courage to wrestle my Angel than better far be it had I never been born. So, God, where are you? Creator, where? Will you reach out and take my hand and run with me through the starry sky, keeping pace with my thousand thoughts a second as crashing and exploding the Universe and We keep rushing ever forwards? Or will I leave you, let go your grasp and leave myself spinning only slowly around and round on this one small world in one small galaxy in my one small mind, rotting in my one small body, writhing and scratching, and wondering why?

Surely, I was never given a mind to destroy itself with such doubt and self loathing, nor a heart to rake only with fear, nor a soul to damn for all eternity? Surely, I was given such gifts to brazenly stoke the Fire and catch the flying embers, every one, with the grasp of these small pale hands of bone and flesh, and with these eyes of temporary sight, and with this lesser mind of men; I am still to count and value and hold each firey end so that it ends not, but travels faster than I can see, laughing, to You.

______________________________________________________

If there is a bedrock principle of the First Amendment, it is that the government may not prohibit the expression of an idea simply because society finds the idea itself offensive or disagreeable.
—Justice William J. Brennan

Unjust laws exist; shall we be content to obey them, or shall we endeavor to amend them, and obey them until we have succeeded, or shall we transgress them at once? Men generally, under such a government as this, think that they ought to wait until they have persuaded the majority to alter them. They think that, if they should resist, the remedy would be worse than the evil. But it is the fault of the government itself that the remedy /is/ worse than the evil. /It/ makes it worse. Why is it not more apt to anticipate and provide for reform? Why does it not cherish its wise minority? Why does it cry and resist before it is hurt? Why does it not encourage its citizens to be on the alert to point out its faults, and /do/ better than it would have them? Why does it always crucify Christ, and excommunicate Copernicus and Luther, and pronounce Washington and Franklin rebels?

-- Henry David Thoreau, On the Duty of Civil Disobedience

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to manifest the Glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

-- Neslon Mandela

A schoolmaster will prefer to have a couple of dumbheads in his class than a single genius, and if you regard it objectively, he is of course right. His task is not to produce extravagant intellects but good Latinists, arithmeticians, and sober, decent folk... As their personalities develop, they create their art in spite of school. Once dead, and enveloped by the comfortable nimbus of remoteness, they are paraded by the schoolmasters before other generations of students as showpieces and noble examples. Thus the struggle between rule and spirit repeats itself year after year from school to school. The authorities go to infinite pains to nip the few profound or more valuable intellects in the bud. And time and again the ones who are detested by their teachers and frequently punished, the runaways and those expelled, are the ones who afterwards add to society's treasure. But some--and who knows how many?--waste away with quiet obstinacy and finally go under.

-- Herman Hesse, "Under the Wheel"

Lint Rollers in the Morning

2007-02-27T08:47:00.000-05:00

As I was dressing this morning, waiting on Mark to finish his 'toilette' to venture forth for coffee, I realized I needed to remove a sizable amount of Bo Bo's and Athenais' fur from my sweater. They enjoy, indeed insist upon, leaving ample amounts of themselves about, in order to be better remembered when Mark and I are away from home! Knowing that I would not be able to fully de-shed myself I nevertheless found the lint brush, a silly devise of masking tape on a peal-away roller, and proceeded to roll it about myself. (The disconcerting part of this process is to feel the way the roller follows the rolls of my chest and abdomen. The 'hard body' which I worked so hard to get for almost two years, is in a general recession!) It is discouraging. Just as I was about finished, and was looking myself over for the stray bit of fur, I noticed in the mirror that I had an accumulation of fur and lint on my head. Now, as I have little hair, I debated for a moment as to whether the additional material 'suited' me or not. Yikes! How desperate am I becoming - with a quick flick of the wrist and the ol' masking tape roll, I rolled it over my head and removed the offending additions. Now, tell me, have I found a new market for the tool? Should I promote it, or rather develop an offshoot device, especially for balding men? If they can sell spray on hair, I say, why not?!

SMOKE

2007-02-25T02:21:00.000-05:00

D. Larson, 2 Self-Portraits, Enhanced Digital Photographs, 2007

NaNouk from Frozen North!

2007-02-24T21:57:00.000-05:00

D. Larson, 3 Self-Portraits, Digital Photographs, 2007

'Paris'

2007-02-24T01:34:00.000-05:00

'Paris'. Neoclassical Marble, 18th Century Italian, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

The Truthes of Women Versus Men

2007-02-23T21:13:00.000-05:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, first line

I adore Jane Austen's work, and I acknowledge that the social constraints of early nineteenth century England and those of the West today will allow for a broad discrepancy of opinion regarding her beliefs as put to paper. Yet, even in the early eighteen hundred's Austen surely new that her opening line (above) to Pride & Prejudice would be met with raucous laughter by most men and the enthusiastic, if inaccurate, affirmation of her primary audience: women.

I have many fine friends who are women. (and Black and Gay and et-cetera - yes that's the deliberate barb I'm making) I hold nothing against them, they are after all more than one half the world's populace. Yet, the woman who believes that the first thing a man needs, even one of highly moral attributes, is a wife, is a laughable creature. I would in particular point out that a man of fortune, whether two hundred years ago or yesterday, is highly unlikely to "want" (in either definition of the word) marriage. Not before some expenditures which have little to do with hearth and home!

It is, therefore, humorous to find so many women opposed to same sex marriage. The promotion of marriage between any two persons supports marriage as a viable social contract which, with it's financial and emotional benefits particularly advantageous (especially and traditionally) for women, is seemingly a rather important endorsement for the struggling institution.

I have pondered then, longer than it is surely worth, why so many women are so extremely hostile to same sex marriage, especially between men. (The omnipotent hatred directed at me when the subject has arisen is frightening!) My conclusions are hardly scientific, and are also less than kind, be warned; yet, being formed more or less directly from Austen's own statement they do bear a certain weight of authenticity. Money. It is MONEY. Women loathe that any man, let alone two, should possess a fortune which could certainly be comprehensively allocated to women through marriage. Austen's very premise suggests that it is the money, not the man, which is foremost of importance. Further, by suggesting it is the men who need the marriage, women, who may not be overly enamored of the bearer of the wealth, eliminate their plight of seeming to be, uh-mm, grasping!

There are women in my acquaintance whom have never fallen into this less than attractive portrait of the 'fairer' sex. They will know whom they are! Yet, the majority of women I have met and known still speak of finding a man to marry for the sake of security primarily; even joking that their second marriage may then be for love. (And more money...)

Seemingly, it is not only women of wifely intent whom are prone to the belief that a man needs relieving of his fortunes. I've found that women with alternate relationships to these men also believe that his money should not leave them unattended! I suppose, as financial security is a worthwhile goal, that much may be forgiven seeking it out wherever it may be found. It is the commonly indiscreet acknowledgment by these creatures that the gentleman in question has no importance to them other than for their profit which is painful. Additionally, it is most horrifically brutal when the woman is by birth or court papers related to the poor fellow!

As an anecdote let me present to you 'YC'. The crowning achievement of this woman was her dogged determination to follow for years her former spouse, 'N', and his male partner, 'W'. Hugely resenting his leaving her for another, (and a man at that!), and using guilt over the child of their former union as her primary weapon of extortion, 'YC' soaked 'N' for thousands. It began in a flourish when, arriving for a 'visit', she appeared in the morning in a flowing pink negligee assuming that her ponderous mammary glands, sprouting forth from the flourecsecent nylon would titillate and entice. The desired impact not effectively achieved, ('N' really preferred a rather different set of globes belonging to the new spouse, 'W'.) she eventually flung herself to the floor, writhing in a magnificent display of emotional torment, pleading and begging that he come home to her. I don't know for certain, but I believe the first large sum was then paid simply to have the woman clothed, packed and on her way again! Only years later, when the custody of the child was removed as a viable threat, was 'YC' successfully, for the most part, shut out of the checkbook of 'N' and 'W'. Even then, however, using the child to gain empathy and sympathy, 'YC' managed to wring a few thousand dollars more, here and there.

Austen knew the lie of her character's remark, and was as surely amused by the number of her female readers who would assert the 'truth' of her character's supposition. Deliberate and astute in her humor Austen was not the sort of woman of whom here she wrote!

P.S. I note that this behavior is not solely the territory of women. Men, too, gay and straight have been known. I do assert, however, that women hold the gold, shall we say, for this sport!

FIN

2007-02-22T18:32:00.000-05:00

I haven't one shred of talent; if I were to even in the farthest reaches of imagination dare to think of drawing a comparison with someone the caliber of a Maria Callas it can only be in the manner of some minutia, a way only of clarifying for the reader some small depth of ones own feeling for the self-importance one granted ones own work. It is to express that whatever talent one has been given, great or small, to lose it, TO LOSE IT, is a genuine 'little death' - and not as the French mean that phrase!

I am watching Fanny Ardant's performance of the great opera diva, Maria Callas, and in a candid scene the Callas character attempts to sing along with her own recording of one of her great arias. Her voice is lost, and she can no longer match herself on the recording. Quite literally all is lost, for nothing which remains has any meaning at that moment to her.

I have no such talent to lose, but I do understand what it is to lose what one does have, however humble it may be; in my instance it is the absence of caring for my family and home. All that I have ever done well has been done for the privilege, the honor and the sheer joy of creating an environment in which my family members might be dazzled or our guests as easily made to feel to be family. A place in which memories and ideals are ever so carefully arranged to be casually found and remembered, for a moment or an hour or a day. Where the sound of birds in the garden is transmuted by the weight of the silk at the windows or the time of day is orchestrated by the scent of oak burning in the fireplace and apples, oranges and cinnamon issuing fragrances reassuringly from the kitchen... You may find, after several hours of hunting, the photo album with your lovers picture or the novel with a special passage. And whilst you search you will be distracted by the forgotten ornament which rolls out of a packing box and which the cat bats across the hardwood floor. Will it shatter and create it's last memory now, for you alone? The drawer stuffed with old tickets to movies and plays and receipts from forgotten bolts of fabric, or the very scrap of material pinned to the tea dyed lace which made your daughter's Christmas dress, and her doll's matching Christmas dress, at age four. And when these things have slipped away, when your fingers can no longer grasp even a broken saucer from your set of china, and the last silver fork has lost its pattern name and is but a phantom in your mind; when nothing of value remains to share because it is gone, even the hearth and home: and when those last memories bind in utter isolation within your decrepit aged body, shuttered in your stench bloated heart and lost in the recesses of what once was likely your very soul, than you can no longer pretend. And when one cannot pretend than, well than, if you are lucky, you weep. And when those tears are gone you, too, will be at last finished.

If the gods have found favor in you than you will take that last breath with some of what you brought forth somewhere near you: someone will remember what you can no longer recall for yourself, and in a measure of love restore your worth.

And if you have earned their wrath, these gods wrath, well...

Camera Stills

2007-02-18T22:25:00.000-05:00

I sit here in the rented room, smoking, wondering, how do I come to be here? Next to me, he snores in fitful dreams, stretched upon the ragged couch of some designer's torment, swathed in the heavy folds of my old spa robe. His delicate pale hand clutches thinnly at the cloth, gathering it into some sort of Roman swag with effortless nobility, and together, his white hand and the dark fabric, rise and fall upon his breast in motion with his awkward breaths. He has been out all day while I have been here, at home in the clutches of my nightmare hours, my mind swinging from thought to thought, fighting and raging my eternal battle of truth and self-doubt, with God's angels, some fallen, some Not. I wonder how can I be; be here? A milk bottle half-filled with change. The mop resting in its bucket of dirty water. The cardboard box of Christmas trims still open, the strings of many colored lights spilling out above the cat, as she eats dry food from a beige glass plate. The laundry, washed, lies folded on the table and the chair is piled with coats un-hung. He sleeps on, Endymion? I wonder if that place his consciousness has found is better than this, our spot of dismal colors? Black actors perform a drama on the television, a story of black and gay and white. "Who can we trust!" an actor blurts. What can we trust, I wonder? I lift another Camel from the paper packet, roll it in my fingers, lift it to my lips, then stop; stop and take my sterling case, its sapphire cabochon heavy with an inner glow, and fill it with the pearly rolled tobacco. Now, taking the cigarette again, I tap the case; lighting with this smoke the world in which, wide and awake, I am to be. A soft and hazy gilded place of shimmering black crepe suits and starched white collars and patent shoes; of chiseled faces, black flint eyes and locks of ebony. Masculine and sensual, he is here and brilliant, tete a tete with so and so; he deftly holds his smoke, his wrist enrobed with crisp white cuffs and white gold knots. Exquisitely, his watch sheathes him, as unique to him it's drape as is the time now rendering the room alive with his sophisticated ghosts. His phantoms, whom I never meet but wander with us in these rooms, upon his arm. A television ad blairs out and wrenches at my specter suite, screaming of some credit card a "time to redefine"; but I here do choose this time, defining. I grip tightly and that fine ol' lady jazz artist blooms again into her song and still, I'm on his arm, still. And the floor rushes up and whirls and the clinking of leaded crystal and old silver sparkles as a soothing background, glowing platinum and sheer. We shimmer in his public, my perfect partner and I, dancing, Dancing 'til his pale hand unclasps the dressing gown, and in wrenching breath unevenly, he asks, "Have you got drugs out, honey," while he struggles up, half sitting, expecting his medications and I fade in again, to this unreality, this space in all it ugly color, smiling, "You'll need the pain pills first, darling?" and I close my eyes never shutting them and for a moment, stop. Stop and take another smoke from my fine old case of silver gilt, and lifting the cigarette to my lips, to light it with my Cartier, I see him, smiling. I see him, flushed of youth, his tousled golden hair above his delicious wicked blues, his luscious gleaming lips lean in across the cabaret to me, to me saying, "Darling, allow Me"; and as he cups his great warm hands 'round mine, and steadies the flame, I am off, not to some medicine chest, its drab color grasping, but slipping, like mercury quick silver to the proffered light, and into his arms I fall, still, yet always dancing; into his luster, still, of jet black silk and white gold studs, still, and dazzling. Still.

Athenais et Bouvier Deux-gether

2007-02-14T16:10:00.000-05:00

I Exist As I Am, That Is Enough

2007-02-13T13:51:00.000-05:00

"Chromed Multiples",
Self Portrait, Enhanced Digital Photograph, D. Larson, 2007

This post's Title is a quote by Walt Whitman, 1819 - 1892, from his "Leaves of Grass".

Click the post's title to see other Walt Whitman qoutes.

Athenais Sophie

2007-02-12T00:15:00.000-05:00

Her blue is the blue of dusk through rain flecked glass,

sheeting unwashed space, flowing.

Her blue is the blue of the river east, spied as evening's wick

extinguished, trembles dying.

Her blue is the blue of the squall ripped vault, gauze dressed

and charg'ed wet, steel mesa muffling.

Her blue is the blue of velvet, tattered and dusty, hung

over shuttered casements rotting;

So Eos wakes, tho' not, not yet, almost; only peeping

and disturbing atoms, floating.

Her blue is no blue, yet all blue; more than Pluto's Cerulean depths;

from her firmament indigo: endless novas, two, burst glittering gold, glinting.

D. Larson, for Athenais, February 2007

The Prick of Darts and Flowers! or How Rosebuds May be Forced in Time for the Sake of Hearts' Pangs to Bloom Full Wide!

2007-02-09T04:10:00.000-05:00

Mark and I were wed in the Great Rotunda of San Francisco City Hall, on the 16th of February, 2004, after two days and some 19 hours of standing in line, with thousands of our Gay brothers and Lesbian sisters, on City Hall's square and it's sidewalks, all about the building. Although the photographs don't show the weather as anything but a little overcast, the actuality was that for the majority of our time in line the winter storms that year were icy cold, extremely wet and wild with wicked Zephyr blustering through every layer of clothing we had on - and neither I or Mark shall ever forget, or I dare say, regret, one moment of those glorious hours.

It will be difficult for any but our dear Queer friends to understand what it meant to be allowed to marry each other that day. Mayor Newsom's politically savvy move was, at the time, just as likely to become his political death nell. I admire him to this day for the great risk he took upon behalf of all of us. Months later, when the California Supreme Court annulled all of our weddings we were deeply hurt. Our American government's inability to grant us the equality of our heterosexual peers continues to be the great debate of our time. I believe at races end we will duly win our freedom to marry, and God willing, Mark and I will return to the City by the Bay, where we've indeed left our hearts' and their desires, and stand together once again, beneath the great Corinthian pillars of our Beaux Arts masterpiece, and hear, once and for all, "I now pronounce you Man and Husband!"

Until that day, we look back at these photographs and dwell upon the sweet memories of our 'official' wedding, realizing that it commemorates a marriage already made by God (and we two small foolish souls) from the thousand days before and since...

...some full of Strife and Sorrow's Pangs and others Brimming Full with Eros' Bliss and Unparrelled Joy (Belin, of course)!

I Hold No Diary of Fortune. Nor Know I What Lies Ahead. I Know Not what the Morrow or Year Next Shall Convey Us, but This I Know: A Fine and Rainy Day Three Years Ago in February is the Greatest Treasure I Do Own in this World. Yet should this World Pull Apart all Which We Do Bind Together in this Time, the Love and Faith Rejoined in Us that Hour Shall Ne'er Be Put Asunder.

So, Dear Friends and Family, Wish Us Both All that is Lovely and Gay, Sequined and Shiny, Frilly and Pink as a Rosebud: for Though Indeed Butch and Hyper-Male We Doth Appear (Ha! Well, Very Good, Only at Times and Only if We Art Found Stock-Still in Dimly Lit Expance)

We Have Been Linked by Cupid's Dart as Sure as Apollo Swooned and Felled His Hyacinthus and Zeus did Soar Off to the Distance with His Own Sweet Ganymede; or as We Surely Well May Say in Kindlier Vernacular:

Big Tab 'A' Must be Inserted Soundly into Tight Slot 'B' to keep the Whole Damn Thing from Falling the Fuck Apart!.

Mark, My Sweet, Here's to the Next Twenty Off!

My Mark of Honor

Spoon and Swoon with Me, My Badge Divine!
To Fork My Swollen Moons Thy Herculean Tine
Is Boon To Me as Pan's Hot, Sweet Red Wine's
Unruly Rush at Noon. Sated Do You Keep Mine
Tumescent, And Soon, Split Wide Our Skines
Together! Splendid Ruin! Do We Not Superbly Dine!

(for Mark from Donnie upon our Twentieth Anniversary, February 16, 2007)

That Line in the Sand Again

2007-02-08T02:15:00.000-05:00

IN the Roman Catholic Church's currently unprecedented interference in the United States (and European Unions) Legal, Judicial, Constitutional and most importantly of late, Electoral Processes, we, the opposition, finally saw a small ray of sunshine that our Judicial System will stop ignoring the intolerable disruption of properly implementated legal practices (in this case the right to assemble and demonstrate within the laws of the State of Massachusetts) by misguided and highly over-zealous right-wing Catholics, and other so called Christian groups. These people must be brought to understand that however visceral or gut wrenching their personal reactions are to what they perceive as moral and/or spiritual injustices, (i.e. same sex marriage, abortion, same-sex adoption), NO ONE is permitted under any circumstance whatsoever to engage in violent criminal and felonious actions towards another person whom is engaged in expressing their legal American Right of Assembly and their Rights to Protest and of Free Speech.

Today, Mr. Larry Cirignano, the former prominent anti-gay leader of a Catholic Church affiliated Massachusetts group, Catholic Citizenship, was notified that he will be arraigned before a Magistrate of Massachusetts on February 20, 2007, for his unprovoked physical attack upon a pro-gay demonstrator, not only for physical assault but for civil rights violations. The young woman was participating in a legal rally, supporting the currently intact same sex marriage law of the State of Massachusetts, which Cirigano's group, Catholic Citizenship, is attempting to have overturned by voter referendum in the State. The Massachusetts same sex marriage law can only be voided by a Massachutsetts Constitutional Amendment supported by this State's voters.* (Ciriganon, who is no longer a member of this particular anti-gay group, has high-tailed it to Washington DC, where he now leads a similar band of
anti-gay men and women.)

As Cirigano was leading his anti-gay same sex marriage rally in Worcester, at the City Hall, on December 16, 2007, he is alleged to have leapt from the dais to assault a woman holding a pro-gay marriage placard. Ms. Sarah Loy, who was standing in a designated area as part of a group of protesters, held the placard which read: "No Discrimination in the Constitution". As Cirigano finished leading the anti-gay group in the Pledge of Allegiance, Cirigano is said to have run from the stage and attacked Loy, physically forcing her to the ground, and shouting: "You need to get out. You need to get out of here right now!".

As Loy lay on the ground, bleeding, and with bruises appearing from where she was struck, Cirigano apparently left Loy on the street and without assisting her in any way, or apologizing for his violent behavior, simply proceeded back to the lectern as if nothing at all had occurred.

Loy, who incidentally is heterosexual, was helped to stand-up after the attack by her husband, and others, whom had come in to Wocester City Hall to support the rally against anti-gay discriminatory language being added to the Massachusetts State Constitution.

The announcement of a Civil Right's Violation charge being levied against Cirigano, in addition to the already standing assault charge, is a very welcome finding for those of us who have looked with astonishment at Cirigano's statements that he did not attack Loy. The number of witnesses present who can cohoberate that the attack took place has helped to bring about the additional charge.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

These attacks, which have become ever more prevalent as the GLBT community makes legal strides towards equality in a number of arenas, are very frightening. The unfathomable hatred upon display within groups like Cirigano's 'Catholic Citizens' and Fred Phelp's so called 'Church' remind us of a number of prior horrific attacks. Following the Supreme Court's legalization of abortion in Roe vs. Wade, 1972, attacks upon members of the legal and medical communities who were involved in a woman's right to choose abortion led to deaths and injuries by clinic bombings, gunshots and the intimidation of doctors and patients at abortion facilities. Also brought strongly to mind is the terrible backlash against African Americans, as well as their Northern White supporters, who sought racial equality in the civil rights arena of the 1960's. The gunshot murders of both Black and White social activists, lynchings in swamps and the bombing of Black Churches, resulting in the horrific murder of innocent children, still prey upon our collective conscience. We can only hope and pray that such violence against the Gay community will be stopped now, before it grows beyond the horrendous proportions of those many other sad incidents - some still coming to light and trial today.

Additionally, as I have said here before, it has been the traditional position of the Catholic Church to be a Voice of Conscience in the matters of Faith and Morals, but to strictly prohibit political intervention. I note again the strongly worded Vatican reprimands to clergy - priests and brothers, nuns and laity - who intervened for the poor and underprivileged against the systematically cruel class-based legal systems of South America in the 1970's, which supported only wealthy land owners and their corrupt politicians. The Vatican took a very dim view of all such assistance by it's clergy in what has been coined as 'Liberation Theology'. Liberation Theology mandated that it was the duty of those who served the spiritual needs of the Catholic Laity had also a duty to serve their physical needs - in particular in the face of such brutal and wholly unethical acts as kidnapping, torture, intimidation, unlawful imprisonment and political executions and murders. Many priests and nuns who felt it was their duty to assist the poor opposed the direct orders of the Vatican. Their intervention on behalf of the many disenfranchised citizens of these totalitarian regimes saved lives, but soon many of them suffered the same vicious fates at the hands of these South American dictatorships.

Here we are some thirty years on or better and we now find that the Vatican, formerly in opposition to politically assisting the lowliest of Christ's flock through any means other than prayer and the Sacraments, is actively purporting that American and European Catholics especially use every political means available, including smear tactics (i.e. John Kerry being refused communion in particular by US Bishops because he supports Gay Civil Equality, though other candidates supporting agendas which included abortion and stem cell research, also equally abhorrent to Catholics, were left unscathed of any personal attacks) to oppose the legal recognition of Gay marriage,

Here is what the Vatican and many US Catholic Bishops and American Catholic Laity, newly in conjunction with right-wing fundamentalists, are supporting: unethical signature campaigns, often deceiving people about what they're actually signing; additionally, obtaining signatures from Catholics whom are attending Mass for the sole purpose of worship; clergy encouraged to support these signature drives before or after Mass which, if they do not actually break United States IRS laws (regarding direct political persuasion of parishioners by specific verbal support of certain candidates and/or of particular pending bills from the pulpit) by tax-free religious organizations**, are certainly treading a thin line. While many Bishops will deny involvement in such activities there is little doubt that the Church's hierarchy have had little, if any, compunction to be forthcoming in regards to what are likely illegal and illicit activities. Certainly immoral. It must be noted here that the child abuse scandal of the Cathoilic Church clearly indicates that the welfare of of others can easily become lost to the need of political expediency.***

These repeated attempts to blur the lines between Church and State by the Catholic Church, now in conjunction with the Protestant far right fundamentalists, represented by such groups as Focus on the Family, is in direct opposition, I believe, to Jesus' own statement of: "give unto Ceasar what is Caesar's, and unto God what is God's". Let me explain what I believe that statement means. Jesus is telling us that what is important to Him is the example we give to others, not in our outward visible promotion of what is politically beneficial to our appearance as exemplary Christians, but in how we live, love and help those in need, whether physical, emotional or spiritual - quietly, with understanding and love unexpectant of reward. I believe this applies in the context of my arguments above in a very straight forward way. It is not our place as followers of Jesus to, in false fits of pious outrage, publicly attack and politically viscerate those persons whose sexuality we do not understand or with whose sexual orientation we may deeply disagree, or with those persons who may support the civil rights of Gays and Lesbians.

Jesus gives us a specific example of this with His own behavior. He stopped the stoning of a prostitute by asking those in the process of committing her execution, "whom amongst you is without sin?" I imagine He received some nasty outward looks and some odious under the breath castigation for his defense of this common woman, whom in their eyes was a monstorus and corrupt public sinner. Yet, when he wrote in the dirt at His feet, and those stalwart leaders of society about Him read His words, well, they dropped their stones and with heads hung in shame, wandered away one by one.

My point is this. I am a Gay man in a long term relationship, some twenty years, and I and my family need the leagl protections of our civil government. Despite my failures in my marriage, it is genuine as a marriage of minds, hearts and bodies. I give my love, loyalty and commitment to this marriage wholly. Growing up Roman Catholic, as a man who loves God and believed for many years in all the Church taught about homosexuality, I finally could only make this one choice: to integrate my homosexuality, a loving gift from God to me, as being a normal and primary part of my state of being. I cannot separate my sexuality from the remainder of my personage without physical, emotional and spiritual illness. My decision was made over years with long, quiet deliberation, seeking both counsel in prayer and in words with clergy and therapists; and in fighting many years of my own unhealthy self-hatred for not being the celibate the Church said I must be to live within God's Grace. Therefore, to choose in personal conscience, to stand against all I was taught to believe about my sexuality, can be said to be my personal experience of wrestling Jacob's Angel. Never has a struggle been more profound for me until now: to choose to debate in open my sexuality has caused me great personal cost, ever I wonder whose love and respect I may lose and always, I wonder, just how many Angels am I to wrestle?

Why do I now fight publicly for civil equality and to live openly as a sexually active gay man, when I am asked as a Catholic to be silent when I am in disagreement with Church teachings? The Church itself is now, using modern media and political expedience, attempting to win upon the battlefield of public opinion its own civil laws - perverting its own responsibility to our souls simply to hold sway in the temporal world; and because I see the harm this is doing to my own gay family, and the many gay men and women whom are my friends and their families, I choose (as those liberation theologists perhaps did) to fight for the wholeness and well being of not just our souls but of our minds and our bodies. If you have not lived in mortal fear of your safety trying to find a home or to keep a job, if you cannot relate to being bashed and spat upon either figuratively or in reality, if you have no basis for comparison for being denied access to your spouse by a hospital employee or your partner's family when he is ill, or to be loathed by an unknown person openly on the street, well, you can still understand what it feels like and what it means to be hated completely for whom you are as made by God.

Here's how. You can step back from your prejudices for just a moment and you can imagine that you are one of those men or women who now holds a stone above me or my partner, or our daughter or one of our friends; and you can, as a Christian, remember the New Testament and Christ's actions and words when, with great love and compassion, He intervened on behalf of the prostitute. You can remember, as I do when I wrongly choose to be someone else's judge, that whatever Jesus scratched in the dirt of Judaea some two millennia ago, that our sins, mine and yours, were very likely among them.

And, if for one moment you wonder whether denying civil rights to me and my family warrants a pause and reconsideration, despite some tough propoganda from the Vatican and civil governments worldwide, than I will have done what I believe may, just may, have rightly saved one precious life and soul from the so called justice of men so that it may be left to Jesus and His Father in Heaven to decide what judgement to give upon his life.

Matthew Shephard, Gwen Araujo, Pfc. Barry Winchell, Amancio Corrales, Tyra Hunter, David Curnick, Michael Sandy, Scott Amadeur, Aaron Webster, Kevin Hale, Jody Dobrowski, Danny Overstreet, David Morley, Brandon Teena, Bill Clayton and many, many others have paid or are still paying for your intolerance in America and Europe. In the Middle East Gays are hung with mock trials. In Russia and Eastern Europe Gays are murdered and violently attacked without any legal recourse whatsoever - they cannot even assemble. In Africa, Gays are routinely slaughtered when it is discovered where they assemble - and while AIDS runs rampant among all sexual populations there, but especially amongst heterosexual women and children, many African governments and the Vatican refuse AIDS drugs, condoms and/or health workers in their countries. India and Pakistan also arrest and imprison without representation - as without question does China. Human rights abuses against Gays are so rampant worldwide it boggles the mind and yet, chief amongst those whom block ANY humanitarian relief and/or legal recognition of their plight at the United Nations are two States foremost: America and the Vatican. These two States, which have prided themselves upon a rigorous human rights agenda of compassion and love, fall short first, by using their significant veto powers, to deny legal recognition of gays, much less equality. Amongst all those countries whom could save Gay lives anywhere, it is the Vatican State and the United States of America which stand alone among all Western nations**** to oppose our legal recognition. It gives me pause as to what exactly being Catholic and American actually mean anymore? When it becomes so terribly all important to make a spiritual and moral compass our only view, let me remind you once again of Scripture - Christ said, instructing the Pharisees, that saving a man's livelihood by removing his sheep from a well, was more important than keeping the Laws of the Sabbath. Can any of us, then, actually believe that God will reward us when we do far, far less for the life, much less the livelihood, of a Gay brother or Lesbian sister?

______________________________________________________________________

*The debate over the voters having the right to amend the Constitution, at State or Federal level, to restrict instead of enhance, the legal standing of a minority group is a suprising first and definitely not in the spirit of what the US Constitution has traditionally stood to protect. The American Courts, being accused of overstepping their authority by providing equal marriage to gays and lesbians, are, in fact, doing exactly the opposite: by insuring that the Constitution is intrepretted in its broadest sense to protect ALL Americans, and in particular those Gay men and women in this instance, for whom otherwise the prejudice of the many against the few leaves the few in great legal jeopardy on many essential levels. The idea of separate but equal, now being proposed in the form of Civil Unions as an alternative to full Marriage Equality has essentially already been dismissed by the United States Supreme Court when it focused upon the civil rights of Black Americans. In other words, a "separate but equal" seat on a bus, or a "separate but equal" drinking fountain are inherently and utterly devoid of equality.

**Currently there are non-denominational watch-dog groups randomly attending services at all Churches and Temples to monitor whether or not US laws regarding specific political reccomendations are being followed and upheld .

***The Catholic Church is waging a publicity battle against Gays regarding the child abuse scandal. The facts of child abuse clearly show that the majority, in the high nineties statistically, are heterosexual men. This is true within the priesthood as well as out. Child abusers are very often non-selective in the gender of their victims. The current campaign by the Catholic Church to once agian mislead the Faithful, and the world, by declaring that eliminating Gay clergy and seminarians will eliminate the sexual abuse of chidren is the proverbial 'ostrich with its head in the sand.' It will, in essence, only leave the priesthood without many fine spiritual leaders whom seek to serve Christ by serving others.

****Only the United States, Australia and the Vatican State still stand among Westsern countries represented at the United Nations in opposition to listing Gays and Lesbians among persecuted minorities and allowing legal and charitable organizations supporting Gays and Lesbians U.N. political representation.

Drawing a Line in the Sand

2007-01-29T02:06:00.000-05:00

School Bullying is defended constantly by many men and women, mostly parents and teachers, who say it is simply a part of the right of passage to adulthood. If you can't make it through some teasing in grade school and high school, how are you going to make it through life?

I've thought a great deal about their perspective because I was one of those kids who was bullied - all the time. Everyone says how cruel kids can be, but it seems to always be said with a bit of nonchalance, even smug pride, because the persons I've known who express these beliefs most often seem to be the parents and authority figures who have adolescents who do this horrific bullying. And, my gosh, it's almost a point of pride to know your kid is aggresive enough to be doing the bully bit and not receiving it - they're practicaally ready to follow Mommy and Daddy into corporate America, right?

No, my observation is not a scientific study, it's just based upon my own experience.

"Oh, come on, toughen up", I was told. Or, to my parents, "Donnie is just too sensitive!". There seemed a multitude of excuses for allowing and/or not interfering in this supposed 'ritual passage'. I learned quickly that bringing it to the attention of my parents or teachers resulted in simply being more clearly marked as a target. So, I stopped telling - it was bad enough without the lime-light of being further noted as a 'tattler.' I decided being called a 'pussy' and a 'cock-sucker' and 'faggot', amongst other nasty monikers, definitely trumped being followed after school, ambushed, beaten-up and having my things stolen. The only trouble being that lying low was no insurance policy of avoiding the latter.

The truth is that this is NO normal right of passage. It is a pack mentality of systematically rooting out group members who don't meet the fraternities code of 'uniformity'. We see it all the time in the animal kingdom. Those animals considered weak and ineffectual are abandoned, or, if they try to hang on at the fringes to survive, they are finally attacked and killed by their own kind.

Perhaps at this point you're thinking, oh here's another softy who thinks his childhood experiences uniquely terrible - and he's blown them out of proportion. After all, all kids go through this stuff. I say in return, not so. I was in fact one of the luckier ones - the ostracism and fear I dealt with were somewhat assuaged by delving into books and clinging to alone time filled with things I passionately loved. I hid in the pursuit of knowledge and used intellectual aloofness to ward off those whom I saw as dangerous. The trouble with withdrawl is that you lose the benefits of teamwork and comradery. And, not facing the attacks means I've never taken away the residual fear I've felt for years - even today at 49 years of age, 6' 2" tall and some 200 pounds I still find interacting with others difficult. How will they treat me? Will I be targeted again?

But this post isn't about me. Because when I was a kid all the other youngsters really understood is that I was somehow different. I had different interests and a different outlook on life, but neither they or I identified this difference with homosexuality until I was in my late teens. My parents had done a thorough job of eliminating homosexual references in media from our home - and those hints of queerness which slipped by were innocuous enough for me not to recognize them. I came into the adult world without a clue about sexuality and life and found adjusting to a heterosexual landscape a hormonal nightmare. If you were gay you lived in a closet. It's taken years to truly know that silence about one's sexuality cripples. As ACT-UP said it: SILENCE = DEATH! And AIDS isn't the only way to die.

Today, it's very different for most young gay men and lesbians. These children and young adults know what homosexuality is, and they often know when they are attracted to a member of their own sex what it may imply about their own sexuality. So do their peers. Imagine then how the 'bullies' must see this critical difference in a classmate and imagine what a misery they're going to make of that young person's life - even if they're not gay, just different. (Yes, that happens, too.)

Recently, in an attempt to pass two State bills (Florida and Iowa) which would require school officials, both teachers and administrators, to take steps to stop this type of verbal and physical abuse, some stories were told by parents of gay children. During the hearings Mrs. Debbie Johnson told of how her son, Jeffery, 15, hung himself because he simply could no longer face the relentless torment of his peers at school. Mr. Bobbie Bean, who's son was rushed to the ER in critical condition because of his classmates' beatings, (which began on the school bus and continued at school), caused severe injuries to the boy. Bean later told news media that "For 22 minutes of my life I had to sit there and watch that clock tick by, and I had to contemplate I was going to have to go home and tell my wife we didn't have a son no more," Yet many, many anti-gay adults see nothing wrong in their children's virulent anti-gay attacks.

This term called 'bullying' seems far too mild a word to describe what actually happens. 'Bully' conjures up old movies with the mischief of 'Little Rascals' or Judy and Mickey simply reasoning with a friends mildly anti-social remarks - and then they're all chums again and off to give a show. If you think that's what I'm talking about you're dead wrong. And so are a lot of young people.

I'm talking about broken bones, deep bruises, head traumas and living with the constant untenable knowledge that it may happen again... and again. And about verbal abuse so disturbing that self-esteem, so vulnerable at puberty, is often completely shattered. Don't be taken in by those who believe it's just a normal and edifying tradition we all go through. It is instead a brutal singling out of someone perceived as a 'threat' and doing everything possible, including even murder (Matthew Shephard) to eliminate this so called 'threat'. The deeply disturbing part is finding out that it is with great regularity that teachers and parents of these abusive young men and women will defend their pupil's/children's actions as acceptable and normal - that 'rite of passage' I spoke of previously. It would seem laughable to me to know that anyone could defend violence against a child that includes severe physical and emotional trauma - but it happens, daily. We cannot allow it be constantly dismissed simply because some of us fear that another childs homosexuality has an influence upon our children.* Aren't these parents really asking to have their fear and hatred codified as a normal, perhaps even exemplary, process to defeat what they believe is an immoral state of being?

The thing is we're not wild animals - we are not in some survival mode at school where those who are different create a risk for the greater group. We're human beings, with integrity and ethics and morals, who have evolved sufficiently to protect those of our families, friends and colleagues whom are different. If you are religious; Christian, Muslim or Jewish, it's even part of your creed. So, why is it so disturbingly common to find schools refusing to offer a safe environment for these children and young people whom are gay? Why does it take the passage of legislation (all of which has been fought with virulence by 'good' parents and 'righteous' school boards across the country) to change the atmosphere and allow a safe and supportive learning place for ALL students?

That's the million dollar question, isn't it? There is no one answer, I suppose. But there is one partial solution to the problem: we can stop encouraging the unethical behavior by advocating punitive action against the perpetrators. If it takes a law with penalties for schools and parents who ignore the abuse, so be it. It seems that it should simply require notifying an administrator or teacher that verbal and physical abuse is dangerous and that gay students have the same basic rights to be safe to learn.. Yet, informing those responsible for gay kids safety has proved not to work, time and time again. It apparently takes the legal pressure of financial sanctions, recording anti-social intimidation in student and employee records and forcing policy violators mandatory attendance at education classes about tolerance.

If it takes a step by step legal process to fight this reckless emotional and physical abuse, school by school, district by district, we can do so. It will change the prevalent attitude that these abusive actions and their deliberate oversight is non-consequential. Laws are a powerful deterrent - they may never change the heart or mind of those whom believe their prejudice is justifiable, but these laws will do much to stop these attacks when school's and parent's pocketbooks and permament records are liable to be forfeit for the cruelty and injuries inflicted upon young gay men and women.

Support local and national efforts to make schools safe for everyone, please. Your speaking out will save lives. Every precious and beautiful queer child lost to us leaves a gaping hole in the societal diversity which makes us strong. Report abuse to Llamba Legal, the ACLU or an attorney whom has a track record of student rights advocation.

*Persons with deep religious reservations concerning homosexuality have in our Country have a Constitutional right to the expression of their faith-based belief, but the Constitution does NOT allow anyone to advocate violence, verbal or physical, towards any person or group, including gays and lesbians. Religious Freedom works both ways. One is free to believe in God, church, doctrine and tradition; but it must be remembered that the Constitution equally protects our right to reject and not believe in any or all religious practice. We are never entitled to verbally insite violence or to physically injure, maim or kill those with whom we disagree. While one may believe God hates homosexuality, one may also sincerely believe God does not hate homosexuality.** I imagine if God hates at all, He hates the violence a great deal more, for His greatest commandment is to Love.

If you are Christian, as am I, you may recall the account of the stoning of the prostitute. Many believe the prostitute was Mary the Magdalene. Christ, appearing at the scene of the execution, made it very clear that those committed to the killing bore no fewer sins, nor any less responsibility for their sins, than this woman sentenced to a brutal death. The fact that the sin of which the Magdalene was accused was likely sexual in nature should, it seems to me, be particularly inspirational to anyone whose platform is that being Gay and sexually active is some unfathomable abomination - not just a difference of genetics or upbringing but a choice to do evil. As Jesus demonstartes with His actions to save the Magdalene, prostitution is in God's eyes a sin no more grave than the mob's rage which permitted attacking and killing the woman. If this were not so, would He have asked of those gathered there whom among them was without sin? It seems to me unlikely that all the sins Jesus inscribed in the sand were sexual in nature. ( Sexual sins being particularly grave in our eyes) So, what transgressions were revealed? They were serious enough to cause visible shame and the hurried exit of many people present. I have often wondered if 'hatred' was not rather prevalently written in the sand.

What did Christ actually scratch that day upon the dry earth of Judea? I do not know. What I do know is that it means this: it is God's right, and His alone, to decide what is a sin and to declare to what justice is for any person. His justice for the Magdalene was forgiveness for her transgression, not injury. Importantly, it is not recorded that she first asked for this forgiveness, rather Jesus gave it to her freely at a time when she must have been in a state of sheer terror for her life. And more importantly, it is only Mary and Jesus who know the sin for which she was actully forgiven. Was it the sexual act itself, of selling her body, or was it her loss of faith in the reality of intimacy and love - certainly a common result of marketing one's self-esteem.** We do know it was her acceptance of God's Intimate Love that day which changed her heart, for her tears washed Jesus' feet to demonstrate her humble conversion. Unique among men, Jesus, as Man and God, alone knows the heart of each of us. As a Christian I am asked to follow this example and refrain from judgement of others, Gay men - and Evangelicals both.

** (You may preach against homosexuality from the pulpit, but no one may use that pulpit to instruct a congregation on how to vote. Report churches which do so to the IRS. Be specific about when, where and whom said you must or should vote for a certain bill or candidate. Churces are tax exempt because they are not political advocay groups.

***I have found in my own spiritual journey that it is not sexual intercourse in and of itself which has caused me separation from God, but rather my failure to preserve this unique and, I think, sacred, physical expression of love with someone whom I hold and treat as a whole person, and with whom I am willing to be open in mind, spirit and heart, as well as body. This has mainly been found for me in my marriage to Mark. Mark is almost the only person I have ever found sex to be joyful and affirming because he is whom I have been best capable of giving myself without seeking gratuitous gratification foremost. But even though this is my experience I will not allow myself to say that God has not reached others, Gay or heterosexual, in other physical relationships, even if I cannot understand them. It is hardly easy to be humble enough to believe that God's Love can be so universal and magnanamus for each and every being He created that He can forgive what I as a man sometimes cannot. We must, absolutely must, allow only God to judge the hearts of others, allow Him to actually be omnipotent and to say to ourselves Thy Will Be Done. .

Lambda Legal's Help Desk: 212.809.8585 or 866-542-8336) LEGALHELPDESK@lambdalegal.org.

Nasty Papal Politics

2007-01-27T18:45:00.000-05:00

The Pope is at it again. Today for the second time in a week, the Roman Catholic Pontiff has attacked lesbian and gay families demanding that government stop recognizing civil unions and marriages, as well as advocating strongly by pressuring politicians and the Catholic people to vote against such equality legislation.

While in America the Pope has the right to free speech in many parts of Europe the legislation for hate speech has been broadened to include GLBT people as many believe there is a direct correlation between verbal attacks and physical violence against our community. The Pope is extremely careless in reiterating the importance of treating gays and lesbians with respect and dignity, and to demand that we as a community are able to work and live where we choose without fear of retaliation from employers and landlords.

France has fined a French politician, a member of President Jacques Chirac's ruling UMP, who did in fact declare gays and lesbians to be "inferior" to heterosexuals and that it is "dangerous for humanity if it was pushed to the limit" to recognize gays and lesbians in any respect. Fined nearly $6000.00, $4000.00 as the penalty ad $2000.00 in court costs, Christian Vanneste has vowed to take it to the EU court of appeals where it is expected that he will lose. Perhaps these sort of punitive damages will help create the same lack of tolerance for verbal abuse of gays and lesbians - just as disparaging Jewish and Black people is simply not tolerated.

However, when Churches and their leaders continue to use their religious freedom to consistently punish the gay community for simply being it is hardly surprising that we see numerous individuals and groups, such as Fred Phelps and the killers of Matthew Shephard who simply believe they are doing God's work to murder us. Just as we have put in place strong laws to protect the doctors who perform abortion we must put in place these same legal protections for all Gay, Lesbian, Bi sexual and Transgendered persons. It is not about extra rights or special privileges - it's about sending a clear message that no matter what your faith may teach you cannot disparage or injure or murder those whom disagree with your point of view.

As concerns these Churches involving themselves in politics and demanding their members vote as they direct it is opposed by the Church itself. The 1970's in South America saw priests and bishops routinely chastised for their attempt to politicize the terrible abuses by dictators to the common people, including abductions and murders, to be against the teaching and purpose of the Church. Such activity was considered to be well outside of the Churches authority as her place is simply to guide and teach, not finance and secure votes for a particular political party.

Shame to the Pope for his willful disregard for the safety and civil rights of Gays and Lesbians. We too are the People of God, and those of us who seek in good conscience to live a committed and monogamous relationship should be supported, not ostracized.

Roller-Coaster Rides, the Religious Right and Our Own Talent at Critical Thinking - or why we Need 'Roe vs. Wade', Even if You Hate Abortion

2007-01-22T21:48:00.000-05:00

AS the new Democratic Congress works towards highly appropriate and long overdue changes to Republican ramrod policies we must not only concern ourselves with Iraq and the War. There are many areas of harm which Mr. Bush and his cronies have inflicted on us in their propagandized laughable idea of bipartisanship.

I am of course particularly concerned on this anniversary of the 'Roe vs. Wade' Supreme Court ruling which hinges, not on abortion, as many believe, but upon the far more basic concept of the right to do with our own bodies what we believe is right and proper. Which distilled to its essence is simply our Right to Privacy. Does the Government have the right to tell you, me or any individual what to do or not do with our own bodies? The answer to protect us all is an emphatic NO!

Yes, the debate about the Right to Privacy arose around the issue of abortion, but the law extends far beyond this one medical procedure. (A horrible procedure, by the way, which I do not agree with, to be on the record.) I will however, without fail, support t'Roe vs. Wade' because of the real issue at stake: a person's legal right to determine with his/her physician what is the best level of care for his/her health. If we allow the government to determine this for us we will soon find ourselves having to defend even our right to exist when we are no longer productive or viable in the eyes of the State - or worse, in the eyes of some well-meaning religious group dealing only in abstracts which believes it knows best for you and me.

The ruling is especially important as the groundwork for social change and legal equality for Gays and Lesbians. It facilitated the Supreme Court's prior ruling regarding sodomy laws to strike down the Texas sodomy law in 'Lawrence vs. Texas'. (The police entered a private home on the complaint of a hostile neighbor and found a male couple, in their own bedroom, having sex - and arrested them for sodomy. This despite the fact that no such intrusion was ever made in the case of sodomy in any heterosexual marriage, ALSO ILLEGAL UNDER THE LAW, ever, even in Texas.) In striking down 'Lawrence vs. Texas' the Supreme Court went on to say that this intrusion into any person's private sex life, gay or straight, assuming it is between consenting adults, is wholly noncompliant with the rights guaranteed us in the Constitution - and therefore effectively struck down all sodomy laws still left on the books in about two-thirds of our States.

These rulings, 'Roe vs. Wade' and 'Lawrence vs. Texas', also rightfully prevented negating the contractual rights and obligations of marriage between husband and wife in the famous, or infamous, and very tragic case of Terry Schiavo and her husband. When Terry's parents attempted to invalidate the Shiavo's marriage vows it was the Schiavo's, but also our own, right to privacy which ultimately prevented even the Governor of Florida, Jeb Bush, as well as President Bush, from wrongfully wresting control of the couple's marriage vows and effectively saying your rights over your wife's and your own wishes, mutually agreed upon, to not prolong artificially supported life can be circumvented by ANYONE who feels their religious beliefs or ethics are paramount to your own. What a horrific legacy that would have left all of us; should Terry's parents have effectively nullified their daughter's wedding vows in their own grief and loss, they would have successfully nullified all marriage contracts.

I do not pretend that these are not gut wrenching horrific decisions being made about peoples lives. Unfortunately, our media only zooms in on the painful human drama and rarely explains the actual legal precedent which someone is challenging. I often pray that I will not have to make such a choice for myself or my loved ones. But I do know this about myself implicitly: it is I who want to make that decision for myself! (I have a health care directive and Mark has instructions from me, just as I have them for Mark.) It is our right to make that decision - not Jeb's or Dubya's. So we are safe from having my family or Mark's family interfere with our wishes because of their religious or ethical view, or emotional reaction. It is not granted them... YET.

If new Chief Justice Robert's were to pursue a reversal of 'Roe vs. Wade' you're not going to find abortion disappear. But you will find your right to save your wife's life; where and with whom you choose to insert your penis during sexual intercourse; and your decision to not prolong artificial life support all nullified; along with, I'm certain, any number of rights of which I'm not aware.

Do not give away your right to choose to control your body to the State! Ever! It will always snare you for some unforeseen slaughter of your own ethics and morals anyway. It is a terrible and awesome (and I believe God given) responsibility to have to make each life and death decision for ourselves and those we love. It's called being an adult. No doubt it seems easier to have a blanket solution enshrined in law, but we Americans are a strong, rational and loving people. If we make a wrong decision in the eyes of God, but honestly do our best to choose ethically and morally, than it is my belief that God will find our taking responsibility to make the hard choice ourself of far greater moral value than simply enacting a law which can never, ever deal with people as individuals. Nor each individual situation - different in every aspect from the last person's situation and the next person's - and ultimately neccessarily worthy of our individual investment. Just as God has made that same individual investment in you and me.

So, please, the next huge moral crisis regarding America's horrific downfall into moral depravity which the Religious Right and their lapdog, the GOP, throw your way via the media - STOP! THINK! Take a deep breath, look beyond the human agony they tell you is there to see and dig for the other truth, and the human agony just below the surface, which they think we're not smart enough to understand or make up our own minds about in an ethical and moral way. And then, don't let them make it a law for YOU on the roller-coaster ride of THEIR emotional whim. I repeat, embrace and cherish your ability to choose wisely, remembering this: it is only the bully or the weak minded and fearful person who needs to tell you what to believe, how to think and why their choices absolutely HAVE to be YOURS.

Resolutions Resolved?

2007-01-02T11:06:00.000-05:00

The Time of Resolutions is here again and it usually depresses me. I want to make my New Year resolutions because it seems like such an immensely helpful and determinedly healthy manner in which to weed out those pesky wild growing failures, leaving your heart and mind cleaned up, fertilized and ready to plant from a huge selection of items: just as seed packets, with grand Latin names and lovely pictures, show you how magnificent your newly freshened planting bed is going to be soon...

The idea that you can simply start all over, without any of the past clinging, is the reason, I muse, for so many failed resolutions The idea that trying for any improvement is hopless and soon lost on us as anything more than a grand amusement, a story for retelling at each party you attend, about just how really big your resolution/flop this year has been. (This often starts by the time you reach your third New Years Eve party - or the following days brunch - at the latest.)

And, so from this spot we give up on making any change whatsoever.

So, dear friends, this year I'm going for teeny tiny resolutions which I feel fairly certain are obtainable, and that may not shake my world - or my husband's for that matter - but which will, slowly and evenly over time, rebuild the the foundations for the sort of man I want to be, both for myself and the people I love. Yes, even for those people I meet by chance and have only a moments interaction with; so that all my relationships become healthier, stronger and deeper.

Most of my failings are of a personal nature best not shared, but, as an example, here is what I'm talking about. It has been years and years now that my so called 'Irish Temper' is something I unleash into the world on a fairly regular schedule! When I allow my temper to build up for days or weeks at a time, without finding resolution, I will with the accuracy of, well, an automatic watch, (I'm not as precise as a quartz movement at any rate!) spew forth the nastiest, meanest, uncompromisingly vicious streams of venom that I can muster. It's nasty and hateful and it actually even harms me.

My resolution? To break years of reacting like a charging bull in a mostly useless and often harmful manner and to find outlet for my anger in a way which is constructive, if at all possible. So, how will I do this? First and foremost with my therapist! Laugh if you will, but if I can talk about my anger with someone whom in impartial and fare I'm half way home. My sudden wretched dam-breaks of anger come in part because I just don't use spillways to take the pressure off the system. My therapist, then, is my first spillway. A kind man, an excellent physician, it is he whom helps me see what I'm staring down from the stiffest and most non-negotiable place and firmly guides me through the other 364 degrees of viewing the situation. Whew, just seeing my problem for different perspectives is a huge release. In fact, it often helps me to see that I am unjust in my anger - OR that the response I'm allowing is a bit over the top considering the infraction - like using a cannon for shooting tin cans along the fence! I've faced the anger, what generated the anger and I've evaluated the anger's worth. Whew!

But there are times when the anger I'm feeling is truly justified. What happens then? Well, in the past if I didn't wish to confront either the situation or the person involved, I would simply drink, or drug myself or run off and sleep with someone besides my love. These are all really negative reactions to a difficult problem - and usually one or all of them soon quickly becomes a huge problem of itself. I know.

So this past year, and now this new one of 2007, I resolve to deal with my anger. Notice, not to not be angry, but to grab the anger and examine it and then, knowing it's real value either chuck it or set about with this solution: confronting my anger and the person whom is involved.

It takes a bit of willingness to be completely honest about my anger. Quite frankly I've had loads of it for far too long, interrupting everything from my digestion to my sleep. When I look at this kind of anger I try to see my justification for my strong response, my culpability in the situation and the culpability of the person I'm angry with so deeply. I must have a firm grasp of these thoughts to try and talk with the person who's angered me; because that anger is usually walking hand in hand with pain and hurt, betrayal and mistrust. Yikes! All these emotions! No wonder I'd rather drink or shag!

No! Let's be grown up for a change. Choice number one is usually to go to the party whose hurt me and first try and learn about his or her situation, their anger and their ANGER. That can be hard to hear first of all, especially when you'll be looking at some of your faults. Once, though, I've heard it - and managed not to go into a full frontal attack for what's been said - yes, if I've got this far, well it's become possible to tell whomever it is I'm speaking with about my feelings, my ANGER and how I'd really like to not be missing out on their lives, their families and their love for me.

So, will I succeed? Maybe not all the time, for pride, however false, can be terribly difficult to let go - but even if my resolution only gets as far as my first spillway - my therapist - well, I'll have built on my resolution; I haven't trashed the resolution as too difficult and I earn the peace of mind to know that I'm not stuck in the same spot any longer. The sail is mended and the wind is changing the flat placid sea and I, yes I.... am moving...

SAVE EQUALITY in MARRIAGE

2007-01-02T08:01:00.000-05:00

GO TO THE BOSTON GLOBE BY CLICKING THIS POST"S TITLE

Today, the Massachusetts Legislature will have a choice one more time to vote or not vote to allow a public referendum on this State's High Court ruling allowing same same marriage.

To date, the Legislature has recessed (nobly) to squash the vote from being made public. It is my opinion that the High Courts ruling means this, and this is what the Legislature has been attempting to do with it's own actions: that the rights of the few (GLBT people as the minority) MUST BE PROTECTED and given the same set of BENEFITS as their heterosexual counterparts, (in this case a majority of religiously fueled zealots).

To allow a public vote Massachusetts faces a reversal of the historic law of equality for all adult non-related couples to marry and receive the same responsibilities, benefits and obligations that heterosexuals now possess.

The opposition to this equality movement comes in its majority from religious organizations, particularity in Mass. headed by the strong presence of the Roman Catholic Church and the Religious Right, spearheaded in this drive by one of their organiizations, Focus on the Family, pressuring from the outside State of Colorado. (All this while polls show support into the 60's percentile that Massachusetts citizens are well adapted and accepting of the 2004 law allowing the State's same sex couples to marry...

My opinion is that if FOF and it's umbrella groups can help force the Mass. Legislature to act than so can we.

Please call and e-mail the Mass. legislature and call and write the Boston Globe - NOW - and request that as a progressive State, Mass., will remain open to GLBT equality and refuse to allow a public vote on some very personal spousal and parental rights. If you are a same sex spouse or a same sex parent you know that this is a call for you know! A reversal in Mass. means that a vote in New York, California or New Jersey - and where ever else we may have the ability to win the next round - will be severely diminshed.

There is an historical precedent to protect a minorities rights over the greater publics. Just in the last centry we watched this happen with the Women's movement for the Right to Vote, and throughout the sixties we wached African American brothers and sisters struggle to have the laws they'd won hard enforced, this case presents the same basic arguments and is simply a retelling of the Old Testament parabel of The shepherd, David, and his Goliath.

Gay Men in Iraq

2006-12-31T15:18:00.000-05:00

CLICK ON THE TITLE OF THIS POST TO TAKE YOU TO THE NEWS ARTICLE

The human stories left uncovered by the mainstream press are chilling and horrendous. The Middle East is the last place any gay man should be - but if you are Arab you are a suspect immediately in the West because of your heritage. Asylum - where? Where do you go? Caught between the hatred of their fellow Muslims and the mistrust and prejudice of those in European and North American governments, gay Arabs are being abducted, imprisioned, tortured and murdered. While the fates of gays in Egypt, Iran, Palenstine, Israel* and Saudi Arabia are sometimes documented, those nations are rarely pressured on their human rights abuses, especially those towards gays, whose very civil equality and leagal recourse is under threat even here in our supposedly humane United States. So, it should be better in American 'liberated' Iraq, especially with Saddam executed. Right?

Wrong.

Whether we want to admit it or not the prejudices held towards GLBT people in the West are a huge stumbling block to protecting the lives of gay men in the Middle East. Think the constantly voiced intolerance of the Vatican and the Christian Right are justified and noble? Try wondering if you'll be in your own home tomorrow - and alive. Or worrying that you won't die quickly enough.

Every time a voice is raised in Rome and Washington against gay and lesbian equality it gives tacit permission to those in third world and developing countries to take it to whole new levels. It's a very small world. Please read the article, and next time YOU decry gay equality think about EVERYONE who's listening.

____________________________________________

YOU CAN MAKE CHANGE HAPPEN

Contact your elected representatives and demand fair and equitable asylum reviews. Demand civil equality for all people. Contact your religious leaders and remind them of their responsibilty to protect life. Vocally REFUSE your support of anti-gay discrimiantion.

And please give generously of your time and money to the Human Rights Campaign, OUTRAGE!, GLAAD and your local AIDS relief organizations.

*The ultra-conservative Jewish faction's opposition to GLBT Equality has resulted in unprecedented violent public attacks against the gay community in Jerusalem. While the Israeli courts have ordered that PRIDE events cannot be shut down by the government every sort of obstruction, including physically attacking marchers and their supporters, are routinely ignored by civil authorities.

Gotham

2006-12-29T00:40:00.000-05:00

In The City That Never Sleeps

2006-12-28T01:17:00.000-05:00

Repeat the Sound of Joy

2006-12-27T12:21:00.000-05:00

One wonders how to find the JOY this Christmas. How do we let go of our hurt and anger to find the commonality which binds us? Whether it is as huge and unfathomable as Government, Churches and war or as intimate as parenst, brother, sister and misunderstandings, it become increasingly difficult to see the good. The peacemaker in me wishes to reach out and find the bridge between each of us, yet the man who feels betrayed wants only to make his injuries known.

So, I fall flat on my face somewhere in between. Each time I extend understanding and find rejection my human nature wants only to recoil and strike out and cause injury again in return. It's ignoble and frustrating to this way fail again and again. And as impartial as I'd like to become, to cast aside any thought of concern for what others think of or feel for me, it's just not to be done. So, I mostly face each day with a sense of failing myself and others - as though the burden of peacemaker indeed rests solely with me.

I don't have the answers. I struggle with forgiving those who have harmed me and I imagine they struggle to forgive me for the harm I've caused. Perhaps understanding in this life is more than can be expected. So, I'll look to the next. And the JOY? Well, if I remember to look it's there. In a husband who stands by me and loves me despite years of struggle. A daughter who sees in me a parent I never expected to be. In the affection of furry little cat-people who think the sun rises and sets by me.

This then is JOY - for in each I see Jesus, born yet again in each of us. I may never enjoy the consolation of all my family being together in a loving way, or the world at peace, but I have this little family right now. I am grateful and full of peace for this at least. So, repeat the sound of JOY. Again and again!

Happy Holidays from Manhattan!

2006-12-20T21:08:00.000-05:00

The holidays in New York City include the Washington Monument created by Stanford White in the Beaux Arts stle of the turn of the last century.

Church & State, Church & State, Church & State: Shall We Continue to Give the State God's Due?

2006-12-08T01:29:00.000-05:00

It came to my attention in a news article today, written by Wayne Bessen that a new Representative, Keith Ellison, Democrat, Wisconsin, who is Muslim has asked to be sworn on his Faith's Holy Book, the Koran, and not the Bible. Here are the problems I see:

1. The American Family Council ( which is rabidly Anti-Gay, Anti-Muslim, Anti-anyone who is not a Fundamentalist Christian AND prescribing to the A.F.C. Doctrines for the U.S. Government's integartion of Religion into Public Istitutions) has already attacked the new Senator and has immediately tried to pass legislation that only the Bible may be used at swearings in of public servants. This is yet another attack on the Freedom of Religion and the Separation of Church and State. It is important to stomp out these efforts of division and isolation of others personal beliefs and Faiths.

Solution 1: We MUST either allow that other holy books (such as the Koran), and others, if they exist, supporting the Faith of the person being sworn into office to be used. Or, 2: Find a State Symbol, such as a copy of the Constitution, to swear all persons into office, and to simply make our Civil Duty be sworn by a Civil Text. Why? Because, we cannot continue in our pluralistic society to allow Fundamentalist Christians to force their personal belief system on all society by establishing what can surely be understood to be a State Church forced upon the American people.

The Religious Right is up to many of these divisive, un-Christian and simply hateful programs, legal actions and editorial whinings which are destructive to what we understand as our basic rights and freedoms in this Our United States. Frightening, sad and just plain evil at times in their misplaced zeal, these men and women supposedly of God seem to forget to love their neighbor as themselves and to reach out to their fellow Americans with arms of inclusion: Jewish, Budhist, Pagan, Atheist and Agnostic... as well as others I'm sure. When will they understand that coercion to convert is no conversion at all - and pray they remeber to set a better example, the only way to bring non-believers to become true believers.

Mr. Besen's article, an Op-Ed opiece may be read first hand at 365Gay.com. Clicking on the Title of this posting will take you to a thoughtful and educated opinion which realizes what the American Constitution has grown and blossomed into over some 250 years, reminding us that we, as Americans, have stood on the high ground of allowing all men to choose their Faith or none at all. Simply because these choices may be radically different than our own, and perhaps even frightening to us at times, we must remember that Christians are called to be inclusive and not resentful and angry because our Constituion and Bill of Rights are now understood, through legislative and court mandated changes over thes last centuries, to include ever broadening definitions of "All men are created equal."

If any Christian American, or American of any faith, rightly practiced, under our protections of the Constitution cannot understand how important this growth of inclusion has been to so many groups of Americans we must simply remind them that under Jeffersonian ideals of "all men are equally created" his generation refered very narrowly to include only white, European men. But, wisely, with broadly worded passages thus leaving room to be reintrepreted as the Nation grew so that we now have the blessing of women being made 'equal in the vote', blacks made equal and freed from slavery, Catholics and Jews allowed to practice their faiths and to run for public offices in America - so many things our generation takes for granted but which would never have occured to our Founding Fathers. That is why our Constitution is a Living Document, not unlike the Bible or Coran, and not simply a stale centuries old manuscript without much current meaning. It is a gift, a great gift. And I pray, hope and plead with you all to be glad that a man could swear his allegiance to these United States of America with the text of the book he uses to lead his own Godly and Spiritual life. We are stronger for the amalgamation of many ethnicities and beliefs, not weakened.

Don Larson, 8 December 2006

Wayne Besen is an author, activist, columnist and public speaker.

He is a former spokesperson for the Human Rights Campaign, the nation's largest gay and lesbian advocacy group. He has appeared as a guest on leading news and political talk shows including: the NBC Nightly News, The Roseanne Show, CNN's Talk Back Live and The Point, Fox's O'Reilly Factor and Hannity and Colmes, Hard Copy, MSNBC News and PAX's Faith Under Fire.

Besen is the author of a book nominated this year for two Lambda Literary Awards, "Anything But Straight: Unmasking the Scandals and Lies Behind the Ex-Gay Myth"

Thoughts on Advent & Christmas

2006-12-04T21:56:00.000-05:00

It's December 4, 2006 and it doesn't feel like a Holiday Season at all. Neither like Advent or Christmas. Everything just is... Partly, this is a reaction to having lived without any of our personal belongings for over a year now. I know that's a big part. as I am a 'nester' and to not have the special world of my home to lend a wall of insulation form the horrors of illness, finacial woes and governmental crazies is a sore place to be. But it's more. It's also having lost my Church as it falls prey to an ultra-conservative contigient of men who are incapable of any Christ-like attitude towards the gay men and women they cannot comprehend being part of God's family. Not receiving Our Lord in Holy Communion in order to meet their regulations of what is right and wrong has left a great emptyness. I miss Jesus in the Sacrament so very much - but to deny my sexuality, or my spouse and daughter, in order to receive Him in Communion is wrong. Jesus would not ask me to deny those he has given unto me to love and defend, rather He would wish me to bear this cross of missing Him and remaining true to Mark and Joy, my family.

Mark and I often pray together. We ask Jesus to be our hearts, our minds and our toungues. We ask him, as two or more gathered, to keep His Word of being with us and I know He does stay with us. He does speak for us and He loves us for being true to our vows to each other made in Him. But, I miss Him in the mysteries of the Bread and Wine.

I hope that through this long advent of our souls we will be reminded by Jesus this Christmas that He is reborn to us and in us and that this Christmas, without its trimmings and presents and usual bounty, we will find Jesus as a baby in the manger - and in our daily lives for the coming year.

So, dearest Christ Child, I offer you this desert that Mark and I have been crossing together and ask you to bless the journey and bring it to its end - a rebirth in you our true Love and our Hearts' Desire!

World AIDS Day

2006-12-01T10:24:00.000-05:00

Today AIDS is 25 years old - according to record keepers. It hardly seems possible. I remember the night I started to worry I was driving back into Yuma with Peggy and Danny from the Foothills. The radio was announcing that a mysterious diesease was affecting gay men... I wasn't 'OUT' yet apparently I didn't need to be. Danny remarked he was sure they'd find a cure, with empathy directed towards me. Did they know? I wondered, and let the disease slip from my mind as I worried about being found out. Pretty stupid. That was 1982. I would sero-convert in 1991.

As of today I have been battling this disease for 15 years. I have had numerous days of good health - and just as many bad in that time. I have been down to two (2) T-cells and off the chart viral load, with opportunistic infections out the ying-yang, and I have had my numbers high enough to almost forget the disease - except for the miriad of pills and injections I take daily to fight. And I'm very lucky. I live in the West where the determination of the Gay community and our activism means that I have support for obtaining drugs, medical treatment and a miriad of services that are mostly NOT available to the worlds largest AIDS populations: Africa, India and the rest of what we call the 'Third World'. There, AIDS is still so stigmatized that countries like South Africa have even denied their citizens the importation of AIDS medications. (Think about that for a minute - we're not talking just 'tribes in the bush', but huge British built cities, similar to London or New York, with Western educated populations, denied all HIV/AIDS medications). Unbelievable in the 21st century. But, then we look at the present U.S. administrations policy of teaching abstinence only - the same negligent way that I was raised - and I realize that millions more are still going to be infected. Here. Today. In America. Because it is apparently too immoral to teach our young people about their bodies, their sexuality and how to protect themselves from a a viral infection that will kill them. Yes, it is a virus, not a bibical plague - a virus which can be prevented with a little medical science eduaction. Teaching abstinence only as a governmental policy is a deliberate misuse and disservice to millions of young people who deserve to have all the information available about active sexual behavior and the consequences of disease, without the trappings of a moralistic and judgemental Faith based education. our government is responsible to all citizens, not simply those of Christian belief and practice.

Today the statistics of AIDS infection remain alarming. Twenty-five miliion people are infected worldwide. 25,000,000! It seems that teaching abstinence does not stop young people form having sex - it only means they are ignorant of the deadly peril before them.

I have linked the title of this blog to the San Francisco Chronicle's special section of articles about AIDS and the disease's impact on communities around the world. Take some time. Read through the articles. Think about your children. Then act. Write your Congress persons and demand that that our communities be responsible to the science of health, not the morals.

If sex, and homosexuality, had been discussed in my home growing up would I be without the disease today? I can't know. But I do know that the relentless message, both spoken and unspoken, that premarital and homosexual sex was a sin so devesating as to separate me from God and my families love, completely prevented me from being able to talk about my sexuality, my lonliness, and my despair at being different - and started me on a clear path of secrecy and self-destruction that I must still battle some 37 years on... So, today, if you or I speak up and prevent one young woman or one young man from acquiring AIDS we will have made a start in stopping this virus from having one more life to destroy.

Thanksgiving

2006-11-24T21:37:00.000-05:00

This Thanksgiving I sat to think about just what i have to be thankful for because I've been bitter about what we haven't had the last year here in new York city. The story is a long one, and most of you know it already - the evil doctor who doesn't keep her word in a single matter and, perhaps worse, has the social manners of gnats, has broken promise after promise regarding Mark's salary, his benefits, housing and furniture time and time again, including a Willimas Sonoma kitchen packed away in boxes in Los Angles Two fabulous Kitchen-Aid Mixers, one in Brushed stainless Steel and the 6 quart in Chrome, an $1600.00 Italian ice cream maker, my Duallit toaster, our sterling, and Herend,Wedgwood, Buccelatti, All Clad all over in every shape and size and Wustoff knives out the ying-yang! not a piece of it here, though.

Nevertheless, after a morning drive about Manhattan and watching the rain pour down, we came across a beautiful Episcopal Church, saved from the great fire of New York in 1801(?), corner stone laid in 1750 and finished and consecrated in 1799. Oh, and we have George, our old Bimmer, in working shape and in need of only some final primping and polishing - but over-all good. And I'm terribly grateful for our dear new kittens, M. Bouvier, 6 months, male and Mlle. Athenais Sophie, female, 12 months old. These two darlings are our blue velvet fur balls, turning to smoke or dusk or dove in various lights - full of vigor and love.

And my daughter, Joy Belin, a fine and wonderful young woman, whom I deeply love - despite her threats of feeding me only gruel in my old age. A wise young woman with a good mind and the ability to learn to be whomever she chooses.

But, last and most important I have my dearest husband, my spouse; a gentleman and a rogue in the best meanings of both those words, and I love him!!! I LOVE HIM!!! Mark, my Mark, has given to me everything I ever lost or never had, from childhood memories to conjugal bliss to the sharing of the mind - yes, in this man I have found my truest dearest love That one Love for all time, in all places before all men and God. A proud and holy love that honors each other and Jesus and that, that is what I am giving thanks for this year. I still have, even without a WWS kitchen my family and the HOME that family makes for me - and I for them..

Joy Belin & Tigger

2006-11-04T17:30:00.000-05:00

Change

2006-11-04T17:04:00.000-05:00

I heard a quote today which reminds me that the truth of loving someone is the process of a life's work, and that our love does not alter because of circumstances of age, health or the strings cut by Fate.

"We have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

Perceval Press

2006-11-01T11:22:00.000-05:00

We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty.

-Edward R. Murrow

The Perceval Press is a small independent publishing house owned and operated by the renowned actor Viggo Mortensen. His publishing is not diluted by the dictates of a large corporation intent on selling books but is presented from the depth of his own beliefs. Who can help but admire such a commitment, even if you do not agree with what he prints.

However, his views of the politics of the Catholic vote are my own. While the article below is speaking of Britain it is the same here in the United States. And it is not simply in regards to education and subsidizing inequality. It is folly to vote morals and ethics designed for one group of believers as a dictate for all persons. The recent loss of Habeus Corpus in the United States, instituted by Mr. Bush out of a misplaced belief that we must remove individual rights to protect ourselves collectively, and the deliberate press by Rome into the political arena of the United States, in the most ardent attack on the founding principle of our Nation - the truth that the separation of Church and State is fundamental to our religious freedom, it seems almost an afterthought to be concerned about Chruch schools accepting public funds and then refusing to comply with our laws of non-discrimination in hiring and access. The Catholic Church has aligned itself with the Fundamentalist Christian Right in an attempt to control the laws of our country with an assault on our personal freedoms and our independence from religious governance. We are not a Theocracy but a Democracy. Christian Fundamentalism's intentions to create a government of Christian teaching will bring the downfall of America as a haven of political freedom, freedom of speech, freedom of religion and governance by the whole people, not the few. America stands at a crossroad as never before, a misstep now will bring a fall into totalitarian government inconceivable to most of us and 'Freedom' will be only a word which rings hollow. God's Word was never intended to be Secular Law - its very intent is that one chooses God of ones own Free Will, not because of the coercion of the State. If we as Christians, and Catholics, cannot convince by our own example, what right have we to demand compliance by law? Vote not the dogma of your Church, but the conscience of your mind and heart, and remember that freedom taken from one of us, just one of us, is freedom denied us all.

The title of this Blog will take you to the homepage of Perceval Press.

I know. But I do not approve.
And I am not resigned.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

An eye can threaten like a loaded and leveled gun, or it can insult like hissing or kicking; or, in its altered mood, by beams of kindness, it can make the heart dance for joy.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Faith, hope and chicanery
The capitulation to the Catholic vote is a step further on the dangerous road to intolerance

THEY DO NOT teach about Ludwig Kaas in schools these days. A footnote in history, at best. Born Trier 1881, died Rome 1952, German priest and politician, canon of the cathedral of St Peter, leader of the Catholic Centre Party, voted for and was instrumental in the creation of a Nazi dictatorship led by Adolf Hitler in 1933. Sorry? That last bit? Well, there is the funny thing. These footnote guys turn out to be pretty important once you delve into the details.

Hitler did not seize power or take power or any of those verbs we are taught that imply some unstoppable show of strength. He passed a Bill, the Enabling Act, supported by 441 of 647 members of the Reichstag, only 288 of whom were National Socialists. As Hitler needed a two thirds majority to achieve totalitarian power and all the Social Democrats that were not in hiding, in prison or dead voted against him, without the support of the Catholic Centre Party he would barely have been able to govern, let alone dictate; which is where Kaas came in. He persuaded his party to vote with Hitler on a law that effectively dissolved democracy in Germany and paved the road to the death camps. And guess what he got in return? Faith schools. Kaas received a guarantee that respected the liberty of the Catholic Church and its involvement in the fields of education, schooling and culture. To win Catholic support, Hitler cut a deal. Much as our own Government did last week. . . .

Read all at Perceval Press: Simply click the title of this Blog to take you there...

Diana

2006-10-31T11:55:00.000-05:00

This image was originally taken in San Francisco at Sutro Park on February 17, 2004. Mark and I spent the morning at the park as a 'honeymoon' after our wedding at San Francisco City Hall. This version of the photographe, altered and enhanced in Photoshop, was completed on Monday, October 30, 2006. It is a photo of the statue of Diana, Goddess of the Moon and the Hunt. In Grecian mythology she is known as Artemis. Pagans still leave offerings of fruit and flowers at the foot of this statue where Diana, pulling an arrow from her quiver and grasping a hind by its antlers, stands poigniantly looking towards the Pacific in a decaying timeless lovliness.

Spirits Rising

2006-10-30T00:26:00.000-05:00

This is a collage of several photographs, each pushed a different direction with exposure, color saturation and lighting effects to achieve a feeling of the spirits of the dead exhuberant in their rising to their God.

Don Leon attributed to George Lord Byron

2006-10-27T22:04:00.000-04:00

An apology to Gay Love, attributed to George Lord byron, grieves at the cruelty, hatred and bitter loss to those gifted with Love for their own Sex. Dated 1866.

Thou ermined judge, pull off that sable cap!
What! Cans’t thou lie, and take thy morning nap?
Peep thro’ the casement; see the gallows there:
Thy work hangs on it; could not mercy spare?
What had he done? Ask crippled Talleyrand,
Ask Beckford, Courtenay, all the motley band
Of priest and laymen, who have shared his guilt
(If guilt it be) then slumber if thou wilt;
What bonds had he of social safety broke?
Found’st thou the dagger hid beneath his cloak?
He stopped no lonely traveller on the road;
He burst no lock, he plundered no abode;
He never wrong’d the orphan of his own;
He stifled not the ravish’d maiden’s groan.
His secret haunts were hid from every soul,
Till thou did’st send thy myrmidons to prowl,
And watch the prickings of his morbid lust,
To wring his neck and call thy doings just.
And shall the Muse, whilst pen and paper lie
Upon the table, hear the victim’s cry,
Nor boldly lay her cauterising hand
Upon a wound that cankers half the land?
No! were the bays that flourish round my head
Destined to wither, when these lines are read;
Could all the scourges canting priest invent
To prop their legendary lies, torment
My soul in death or rack my body here,
My voice I’d raise insensible to fear.
When greedy placemen drain a sinking state,
When virtue starves and villains dine off plate;
When lords and senators untouched by shame,
For schemes of basest fraud can lend their name;
When elders, charged to guard the pauper’s trust,
Feast on the funds, and leave the poor a crust;
When knaves like these escape the hangman’s noose,
Who even to Clogher a pardon would refuse?
Who would not up and lend a hand to save
A venial culprit from a felon’s grave!
Sheer indignation quickens into rhyme,
And silence now were tantamount to crime.
I know not in what friendly breast to pour
My swelling rage save, into thine, dear Moore,
For thou, methinks, some sympathy will own,
Since, love, no matter in what guise ’tis shown,
Must ever find an echo from that lyre,
Which erst hath glowed with old Anacreon’s fire.
Death levels all; and, deaf to mortal cries,
At his decree the prince or beggar dies.
So, when I’m gone, as gone I soon may be,
Be thou, dear Tom, an honest, firm trustee;
And, nor for filthy lucre, nor to dine
At Holland House, erase one single line.
To titled critics pay no servile court;
But print my thoughts through good or ill report.
And if these musings serve but to dispense
One little dose of useful common sense,
I fain would hope they greater good had done
Than all the pious tracts of Rivington.
Can it be justice in a land like ours,
Where every vice in full luxuriance flowers-
Where schoolboys’ eyes can recognise afar
Soho’s green blinds and Lisle-street doors ajar-
Where bold-faced harlots impudently spurn
The modest virgin’s blush at every turn,
Where every pavement hears their ribald laugh,
Spite of the Bow-street gang and watchman’s staff,
That one propensity (which always hides
Its sport obscene, and into darkness glides,
Which none so brazened e’er presume to own,
Which, left unheeded, would remain unknown,
Should be the game their worships will pursue
With keenest ardour all the country through?
No parson of the quorum feels a blush
To claim the honours of the stinking brush);
Whilst at the scent unkennelled curs give tongue,
Until the poor misogynist is hung.
Yet naught can satisfy the foul-mouthed crew;
Laid in his grave their victim they pursue;
And base Smellfunguses insult his ghost
With sainted columns in the Morning Post.
I grant that casuists the Bible quote,
And tell us how God’s tardy vengeance smote
Lot’s native town with brimstone from the sky,
To punish this impure delinquency,
Unmindful that the drunkard’s kiss defiled
(Whilst yet the embers smoked), his virgin child.
But reason doubts the Jewish prophet’s tale.
Does history then no other place bewail?
Descend the Nile, and steer your bark along
The shores recorded in Homeric song.
Where’s centi-portalled Thebes? The crumbling stone
Marks well its site, but sandy mounds have grown
O’er granite lanes that line the public way,
And seem to bid defiance to decay.
Why seek we Priam’s palaces in vain?
Why howls the blast over Lacedaemon’s plain?
Where’s Memphis? Wherefore in Persepolis
Do jackals scream, and venomed serpents hiss?
What! were thy ramparts, Babylon, so thick;
And hast thou left us not a single brick?
But where’s thy house, Zenobia? Thou wast Queen
Of Tadmor once; and now the Bedoween
Erects his tent, and scares the fleet gazelle,
That comes to drink at thy sulphureous well.
Where’s Caesarea now, or Antioch? Where?
And yet their domes deserved God’s special care,
There Paul was honoured; there our faith proclaimed,
There true believers first were Christians named.
Who has not seen how Mother Church can press
Each vain tradition to her purposes,
And from the cradle to the grave supply
Proofs sacred of infallibility?
Would you be damned? a text conveys her curse;
Or rise again? you have it in a verse.
Her rites as means of revenue are prized:
For mammon’s sake our infants are baptised.
With golden offerings marriages are made;
Woe to the union where no fee is paid.
Who weds or fornicates, no matter which,
Children begets, and makes the altar rich;
But, where no offerings to the surplice fall,
The taste forthwith is anti-physical.
Hell-fire can hardly expiate the guilt
Of that damned sin-the church’s rubric bilked.
The tree we plant will, when its boughs are grown,
Produce no other blossoms than its own;
And thus in man some inborn passions reign
Which, spite of careful pruning, sprout again.
Then, say, was I or nature in the wrong,
If, yet a boy, one inclination, strong
In wayward fancies, domineered my soul,
And bade complete defiance to control?
What, though my youthful instincts, forced to brood
Within my bosom seemed awhile subdued?
What, though, by early education taught,
The charms of women first my homage caught?
What, though my verse in Mary’s praises flowed?
And flowers poetic round her footsteps strewed,
Yet, when her ears would list not to my strain,
And every sigh was answered with disdain,
Pride turned, not stopped, the course of my desires,
Extinguished these, and lighted other fires.
And as the pimple which cosmetic art
Repels from one, invades another part,
My bubbling passions found another vent,
The object changed, but not the sentiment.
And, ever my years could task my reason why,
Sex caused no qualms where beauty lured the eye.
Such were my notions ere my teens began,
And such their progress till I grew a man.
With thee, dear Margaret, whose tender looks
Made me forget my task, my play, my books,
Young though we were, our union soared above
The frigid systems of Platonic love.
Untutored how to kiss, how oft I hung,
Upon thy neck, whilst from my burning tongue
Between thy lips the kindling glow was sent,
And nature fanned the new-born sentiment;
How oft, beneath the arbour’s mystic shade,
My boyish vows of constancy were made!
There on the grass as we recumbent lay,
Not coy wast thou, nor I averse to play;
And in that hour thy virtue’s sole defence
Was not thy coldness, but my innocence.

Among the yeomen’s sons on my estate
A gentle boy would at my mansion wait:
And now that time has almost blanched my hair,
And with the past the present I compare,
Full well I know, though decency forbad
The same caresses to a rustic lad;
Love, love it was, that made my eyes delight
To have his person ever in my sight.
Yes, Rushton, though to unobserving eyes,
My favours but as lordly gifts were prized;
Yet something then would inwardly presage
The predilections of my riper age.
Why did I give the gauds to deck thy form?
Why for a menial did my entrails warm?
Why? but from secret longings to pursue
Those inspirations, which, if books speak true,
Have led e’en priest and sags to embrace
Those charms, which female blandishments efface.
Thus passed my boyhood: and though proofs were none
What path my future course of life would run
Like sympathetic ink, if then unclear,
The test applied soon made the trace appear.
I bade adieu to school and tyro’s sports,
And Cam received me in his gothic courts.
Freed from the pedagogue’s tyrannic sway,
In mirth and revels I consumed the day.
No more my truant muse her vigils kept;
No more she soothed my slumbers as I slept;
But, idling now, she oft recalled the time
When to her reed I tuned my feeble rhyme.
She knew how those ’midst song and mirth grow dull
Whose tender bosoms soft emotions lull.
As manhood came, my feelings, more intense,
Sighed for some kindred mind, where confidence,
Tuned in just unison, might meet return,
And whilst it warmed my breast, in his might burn.
Oft, when the evening bell to vespers rung,
When the full choir the solemn anthem sung,
And lips, o’er which no youthful down had grown,
Hymned their soft-praises to Jehovah’s throne,
The pathos of the strain would soothe my soul,
And call me willing from the drunkard’s bowl.
Who, that has heard the chapel’s evening song,
When peals divine the lengthened note prolong,
But must have felt religious thoughts arise,
And speed their way melodious to the skies.
Among the choir a youth my notice won,
Of pleasing lineaments named Eddleston.
With gifts well suited to a stripling’s mood,
His friendship and his tenderness I wooed.
Oh! how I loved to press his cheek to mine;
How fondly would my arms his waist entwine!
Another feeling borrowed friendship’s name,
And took its mantle to conceal my shame.
Another feeling! Oh! ’tis hard to trace
The line where love usurps tame friendship’s place.
Friendship’s the chrysalis, which seems to die,
But throws its coil to give love wing to fly.
Both are the same, but in another state;
This formed to soar, and that to vegetate.

Of humble birth was he – patrician I.
And yet this youth was my idolatry.
Strong was my passion, past all inward cure
And could it be so violent, yet pure?
’Twas like a philtre poured into my veins-
And as the chemist, when some vase contains
An unknown mixture, each component tries
With proper tests, the draught to analyse,
So questioned I myself: What light this fire?
Maids and not boys are wont to move desire;
Else ’twere illicit love. Oh! sad mishap!
But what prompts nature then to set the trap?
Why night and day does his sweet image float
Before my eyes? or wherefore do I dote
On that dear face with ardour so intense?
Why truckles reason to concupiscence?
Though law cries "hold!" yet passion onward draws;
But nature gave us passions, man gave laws,
Whence spring these inclinations, rank and strong?
And harming no one, wherefore call them wrong?
What’s virtue’s touchstone? Unto others do,
As you would wish that others did to you.
Then tell me not of sex, if to one key
The chords, when struck, vibrate in harmony.
No virgin I deflower, nor, lurking, creep,
With steps adult’rous, on a husband’s sleep.
I plough no field in other men’s domain;
And where I delve no seed shall spring again.
Thus with myself I reasoned; then I read,
And counsel asked from volumes of the dead.
Oh! flowery path, thus hand in hand to walk
With Plato and enjoy his honeyed talk.
Beneath umbrageous planes to sit at ease,
And drink from wisdom’s cup with Socrates.
Now stray with Bion through the shady grove;
Midst deeds of glory, now with Plutarch rove.
And oft I turned me to the Mantuan’s page,
To hold discourse with shepherds of his age;
Or mixed with Horace in the gay delights
Of courtly revels, theatres, and sights;
And Thou, whose soft seductive lines comprise
The code of love, thou hadst my sympathies;
But still, where’er I turned, in verse or prose,
Whatever I read, some fresh dilemma rose,
And reason, that should pilot me along,
Belied her name, or else she led me wrong.
I love a youth; but Horace did the same;
If he’s absolv’d, say, why am I to blame?
When young Alexis claimed a Virgil’s sigh,
He told the world his choice; and may not I?
Shall every schoolman’s pen his verse extol,
And, sin in me, in him a weakness call?
Then why was Socrates surnamed the sage,
Not only in his own, but every age,
If lips, whose accents strewed the path of truth,
Could print their kisses on some favoured youth?
Or why should Plato, in his Commonwealth
Score tenets up which I must note by stealth?
Say, why, when great Epaminondas died,
Was Cephidorus buried by his side?
Or why should Plutarch with eulogiums cite
That chieftain’s love for his young catamite,
And we be forced his doctrine to decry,
Or drink the bitter cup of infamy?
But these, thought I, are samples musty grown;
Turn we from early ages to our own.
No heathen’s lust is matter of surprise;
He only aped his Pagan deities;
But when a Saviour had redeemed the world,
And all false idols from Olympus hurled,
A purer code the Christian law revealed,
And what was venial once as guilt was sealed.
With zeal unwearied I resumed again
My search, and read whate’er the layman’s pen
In annals grave or chronicles had writ;
But can I own with any benefit?
’Tis true, mankind had cast the pagan skin,
But all the carnal part remained within
Unchang’d, and nature, breaking through the fence
Still vindicated her omnipotence.
Look, how infected with rank disease
Were those, who held St. Peter’s holy keys,
And pious men to whom the people bowed,
And kings, who churches to the saints endowed;
All these were Christians of the highest stamp-
How many scholars, wasting over their lamp,
How many jurists, versed in legal rules,
How many poets, honoured in the schools,
How many captains, famed for deeds of arms,
Have found their solace in a minion’s arms!
Nay, e’en our bard, Dame Nature’s darling child,
Felt the strange impulse, and his hours beguiled
In penning sonnets to a stripling’s praise,
Such as would damn a poet now-a-days.
To this conclusion we must come at last:
Wise men have lived in generations past,
Whose deeds and sayings history records,
To whom the palm of virtue she awards,
Who, tempted, ate of that forbidden tree,
Which prejudice denies to you and me.
Then be consistent; and, at once confess,
If man’s pursuit through life is happiness,
The great, the wise, the pious, and the good,
Have what they sought not rightly understood;
Or deem not else that aberration crime,
Which reigns in every caste and every clime.

II

Chance led me once, when idling through the street,
Beneath a porch my listless limbs to seat,
Where rudely heaped, some sculptured marbles lay,
Of pediments now crumbled to decay.
There the fallen building as I musing eyed,
Which meditation to the mind supplied,
And called me back to epochs now remote,
When Zeuzis painted and when Plato wrote,
Aloof my faithful Tartar waiting stood,
(Dervish Tahiri); for he understood
His master’s fancies, and with naked blade,
The near approach of boorish men had staid.
Close to the spot a Grecian dwelling reared
Its modest roof. A courteous man appeared;
And, bowing low, with invitation pressed
To enter in, and on his sofa rest.
I crossed the threshold of the courteous man,
And smoked and chatted. Close by the divan
His son, as Eastern usages demand,
In modest attitude was seen to stand.
And smiling watched the signals of my will,
To pour sherbet, or the long chibook fill.
Grace marked his actions, symmetry his form;
His eyes had made an anchorite grow warm,
His long attire, his silken anteri,
Gave pleasing doubts of what his sex might be;
And who that saw him would perplexed have been,
For beauty marked his gender epicene.
Day after day my visits I renewed,
His love with presents like a mistress wooed;
Until his sire with dreams of greatness won,
To be my page made offer of his son.
I took him in my train, with culture stored
His mind, and in it choice instruction poured;
Till like the maiden, who some budding rose
Waters with care and watches till it blows,
Then plucks and places it upon her breast,
I too this blossom to my bosom pressed.
All ye who know what pleasure ’tis to heave
A lover’s sigh, the warm caress receive
Of some fond mistress, and with anxious care
Watch each caprice, and every ailment share.
Ye only know how hard it is to cure
The burning fever of love’s calenture.
Come, crabbed philosophers, and tell us why
Should men to harsh ungrateful studies fly
In search of bliss, when e’en a single day
Of dalliance can an age of love outweigh!
How many hours I’ve sat in pensive guise,
To watch the mild expression of his eyes!
Or when asleep at noon, and from his mouth
His breath came sweet like odours from the south,
How long I’ve hung in rapture as he lay,
And silent chased the insect tribe away.
How oft at morn, when troubled by the heat,
The covering fell disordered at his feet,
I’ve gazed unsated at his naked charms,
And clasped him waking to my longing arms.
How oft in winter, when the sky overcast
Capped the bleak mountains, and the ruthless blast
Moaned through the trees, or lashed the surfy strand,
I’ve drawn myself the glove upon his hand,
Thrown o’er his tender limbs the rough capote,
Or tied the kerchief round his snowy throat.
How oft, when summer saw me fearless brave
With manly breast the blue transparent wave,
Another Daedalus I taught him how
With spreading arms the liquid waste to plough.
Then brought him gently to the sunny beach,
And wiped the briny moisture from his breech.
Oh! how the happy moments seemed to fly,
Spent half in love and half in poetry!
The muse each morn I wooed, each eve the boy,
And tasted sweets that never seemed to cloy.
Women as women, me had never charmed,
And shafts that others felt left me unharmed.
But thou, Giraud, whose beauty would unlock
The gates of prejudice, and bid me mock
The sober fears that timid minds endure,
Whose ardent passions women only cure,
Receive this faithful tribute to thy charms,
Not vowed alone, but paid too in thy arms.
For here the wish, long cherished, long denied,
Within that monkish cell was gratified.
And as the sage, who dwelt on Leman’s lake,
Nobly his inmost meditations spake,
Then dared the man, who would like him confess
His secret thoughts, to say his own were less;
So boldly I set calumny at naught,
And fearless utter what I fearless wrought.

BYRON

Lost & Delerious in Sleepy Hollow

2006-10-26T02:06:00.000-04:00

Sunday past, George, our old Bimmer, took Mark and I on a northwards trip from Manhattan to the littlke village of Sleepy Hollow. Ripe with the stories of the Headless Horseman and approaching All Hollows Eve we set forthy in gay spirits to have an adventure.

Having been so tied to the business, often 16 hours daily, Mark has rarely had the time to have any outings in the year we have been residing in New York. And, as New York has so very much to offer it does seem a shame. We both hope to rectify this with more involvement in the fabulous cultural life available here - this outing was our first serious attempt.

I, being me, had not expressed to my dear husband my expectations of the day, assuming (wrongly) that he knew what sort of a day it should be: a gentrified outing of a two older gay men, smartly attired in our cashmere and wool, fine leather and the apropriate accessories - watch, rings and eyeglasses. We would arrive in this quaint village and find a charming small cafe, serving healthy but tasty dishes - fresh and hand made salds, grilled fish or chicken and perhaps a piece of local pumpkin pie.

My first clue that the trip I was on was not the trip I had planned in my mind brought out my very worst trait - sulleness. It's true, I know I do it, and yet I cannot seem to stop. As we drove towards Sleepy hollow we passed poorly kept houses, billious chain stores and poorly marked roads. Losiung our way once or twice I was beginning to think we'd simply journeyed to yet another blue collar neighborhood where comfortable shoes, cost efficient vinyl siding and aluminium replacement windows are de riguer - not carefully restored Victorian and Edwardian homes, clad in custom paint schemes and gardens with all the charm of a picture post card. The grunpies set in with me.

Mark noticed of course, and was soon after me to reveal my pissy attitude, which i didn't want to do - as I knew his response would be the same as what I was thinking already of myself: you neurotic selfish old prick. This is supposed to be about spending time together. I was determined to change course.

Dear Mark assumed it was low blood sugar and that we needed to eat and without hesitation pulled into a vinyl booth Diner next to a gas station to feed me - with what turned out to be frozen reheated waffles with terribly greasey tasting margarine and what was supposedly 'syrup' but which had no flavor whatsoever. (So much for brioche with butter and French jam and fresh farm egg omelets, apple cured bacon and just ground fresh brewed Columbian coffee!)

I'm afraid this is the point where mark's pushing me for an answer to my dismal countenance was finally met with a hushed outburst about eating cardboard and viewing a neighborhood strongly reminiscent of Mesa, Arizona - only with green and gold and red oaks and maples.

Somehow, however, we suddenly laughed (Mark agreed about paying for frozen waffles!) and we laughed - he saw my point and that was enough. The rest of the day promised to be a great deal of fun.

As we drove into Sleepy Hollow we were astounded by the nearly picture perfect downtown. Lovely old storefronts mixed with carming homes and Bed abd Breakfasts, cafes with lovely awnings, well kept gardens and even decorations for the Holiday: Scarecrows of stuffed straw with bright shirts, feathered caps and brilliantly colored bandanas. We passed a punmpkin patch, lit with strings of lights in the old fashioned way and I was thrilled. Mark was happy, too and suggested we visit the Sleepy Hollow Graveyard of the Ol' Dutch Church. Yes! I cried, immediately digging for my camera.

As we pulled off Main Street into the Church's lot it was about 4 o'clock in the afternoon. Oh, my, waht a graveyard it was! Going back as far as the 1600s it was a treasure trove of architectural monuments to the dearly departed. Mark and I started off to explore and after a very few minutes, in my excitemnt to reach that next tomb, I had accidently lost my dear husband. I wandered for what was a timeless period for me, photographing so many unusual intricate and magnificent house for the dead. Truly, a town of the dead. Grecian temples beside Gothic spires. Dutch tombs with huge slate roof slabs sliding to the ground, Tudor mausoleums and every sort of grave marker one can imagine - even to some which were so small, less than 16" high, tilted and half buried in the soil.

I wanderd faint paths all over, truly believing I was pushing forward in a true line and could simply turn about in a bit and walk the same direction back - but the spirits apparently had another plan for me! I soon realized it was dusk and the light was fading rather quickly - aftyer all it had been overcast all afternoon so the lack of light had already been hampered. I took a pause and a deep breath and fumbled for my silver gilt cigarette case. Opening it and removing a smoke, I tapped it onthe case as I stood in contemplation, and placing it in my mouth lit the cigarette with my gilt lighter. The sense of holding these little reminders of civilization were a great comfort - and as I breathed in deeply the smoke and exhaled, watching it curl into the evening air a sense of some comfort enveloped me. I shall not panic, I declared to my self! If I cannot find my way back someone will come and find me. Heartened, however artificailly, I set forth again.

I heard a highway and then saw headlights down below me. Finding a paved thouroughfare hrough the mgrounds I kept with it, assuming I could follow the highway to the Church. I trudged in the opposite direction then I had been going and spent anothe half hour walking - the road always to my left.Well, the trouble turned out to be that road should have been to my right! I found the very end of the cemetery and it was now deep dusk. Panic, panic. I struggled against it and lit another cigarette, then did an about face to walk the other direction. Sfter a short distance I saw two figures walking together, fainyly through the poor light. Approaching them I asked for directions and was responde to in themost minimal manner possible. I thought for a moment, when they told me that they hadnot driven to the grounds nor did they know the way out that I was perhpas meeting residents of the place. I resisted mym inclination to touch them to see if they were solid and instead marked a hasty move forward, away from the mysterious and uncommunicative couple...

A few minutes later I met yet another young couple who had a map of the grounds - they shared an extra copy with me. Together we, and another young couple they were with - headed to the gates of the Church yard. I got out a bit in fornt and found the place Mark and I had started from two hours or so earlier! Hurrah! Up ahead I saw the gates, flooded with headlights, and assumed Mark had been dutiful to me and remained waiting. Thank God! As I ghrew close Mark saw me at last and screamed: :There he is! there he is!" I realized he was exclaiming the news to the police officer he had called and who was unlocking the gates to begin a search for me! A moment later a second police vehicl arrived with the local canine rescue squad in tow - mark was so frightend I had fallen in the hilly park and was communing, unconscience, with some particular long departed resident guest. I could only think of Frodo and his companions in the barrows and wondered how close to a similar experience I had actually come.

I wonder still about the dark young couple in the black clothes with no desire to speak with me - ah, probably just a couple of kids stoned on cannabis! Surely! Right? I suppose I'll never know for certain...

Stars, Memories, a Bleu Cat, Mark and Me

2006-10-21T23:46:00.000-04:00

Mark and I learnt on this Wednesday last that he may have cancer, lymphoma, actually. We've determined not to be worried until we know after the testing this coming week; but nevertheless, just the thought of one more burden at the moment feels as though I'm sinking slowly into a flithy mire filled with a zillion eery insects and packs of slimy poison snakes sailing about throught the decaying leaves of the stagnant water all about and coming at you without you're even seeing them... all while you're still just trying to keep thy nose above the stagnant liquid - yes, that is how it feels to me. It is the tell-tale moment in the movie where either the hero will swoop down and rescue you, pulling you free, covered in dead leaves and muck from the salient pool OR the villain will will just continue to laugh while you go under. Which, I wondered, will it be for Mark and me?

Unexpectedly for me we e spent today at the house Mark is supervising an update of systems on and we had a grand few hours together. The best time we've both had in so many, many months. We explored the property and fell into our best well-worn comfy memories of building our own homes over the years we've been in love. Falling into that pleasent cool clear pool of clarity we looked at colors and spoke of structure and examined systems of this house while unwittingly we added colour, structure and operating systems back within our life together.

Athenais came with us, full of that curiosity of not just the cat, but of youth, and more still of her faith in her own safety with the two big furr-balls she trusts to keep her safe. As the light dimmed we drove home, but wound through the hilly streets of the neighborhood, looking at lovely old brick and stone homes, with lights beginning to warm the windowpanes. Athenais had pushed herself up through the top of her carrier and was darting her eyes all over, taking in the sounds and smells and views from the slow moving Bimmer. Mark chattered on about each house, and I, half listening to my darling husband and half making certain Athenais didn't make a leap towards a foot pedal or a window, suddenly realized that here I was, with the family I chose, and whom chose me, and I was full of love. Full to the brim, bouying above any depression or threat of loss or worried hours in a hospital room for now, for just now, I have, in my ol' black car my whole mysterious, miraculous world!

This dear blessed little cat, Athenais, who it can only be said is a gift of God to us. Her cheer, her youth, her detrmination, her love of play: her soul, her deep, starlit soul brightens each day for me, and for Mark. A pair of clear copper eyes into which you look and lose your saddness for they glow with the bright polish of her knowledge of us - a more profound knowing of us than I can explain - and in the deep blue-grey velvet coat which we comb and brush, stroke and nuzzle and most of all kisses, especially upon her brow and ears, whispering: my precious baby, I love you, I love you, I love you! O're and over again... until she bleats in her low key grrr of a purr her peace and contentment - her acceptance of our love.

Still driving old George is my dearest husband, Mark, the man whom without my knowledge has taken the stony, coal lump of a heart I've had and made it warm, even hot, molten passion in his hands as he kisses me on my lips and brow, then tells a wretched in-bad-taste story at which he laughs and I grimmance, though rather falsely these days, because this man, this sapphire eyed, ruby lipped and strawberry coloured locks fellow has given to me, some silly boy from a rural town, a life of so much joy, laughter and love. A daughter he's given to me! A fair and lovely girl who took me to her ballet lessons and to her computer room and to her friends houses and to a place in my life where I grew up, at least a little bit, and learned to place another's needs before of my own. My darling daughter Jo. An incomprehensible gift from the man I love: my family. Yet, not enough, to give me all of this, no; with it he gave me the world he saw and knew, a world not bounded by walls but braced with pillared dreams of possibilities that we, as a married couple, could build into a life, stone by stone. We have, I now know, built well.

And when in this blessed life of ours, Mark's and mine together, our good Creator chooses to test our hearts, molten passion or not, with trial, we find we have the mettle, we have the courage, we have the strength of the Truth He gives us as we face these next challenges of income, of health, of spirit and of hope and we find, somehow just in a little drive to an old house in the woods, who we are, really are, one more time. And finding that today is the fabulous, marvelous and star littered present Jesus gave us this old Saturday afternoon...

Joy Belin & Tigger

2006-10-08T12:04:00.000-04:00

These photos of my daughter, Joy Belin, and her Tigger, make me incredibly proud. Joy is an amazing young woman, bright, articulate, loving to both Mark and me and a very, very good Cat Mom!

Athenais: Variations

2006-10-08T02:33:00.000-04:00