Category: homophobia

Firework

I don’t know about you, Constant Reader, but I’m not feeling particularly “free” this year, are you? This holiday has always been a bit bittersweet for me, anyway; how do you celebrate freedom when your rights as a human being and American citizen are constantly under attack or in danger of being stripped away? SCOTUS has proven that they are guided by no principle by maintenance of power by the worst of the far right; can renewal of Jim Crow laws in Southern states be far behind? They’ve already stripped women of bodily autonomy, they’ve wiped out regulatory control over industries that long-ago proved they cannot be trusted to operate out of anything other than pure greed. I guess there aren’t many of us around who remember the unregulated hellscape we had before regulations, when the Cuyahoga River used to catch on fire, when our air and water were becoming so polluted that they were respectively unbreathable and undrinkable. People used to just throw their trash out of their cars onto the side of the roads. Garbage was literally everywhere, and our beautiful country was turning into a massive garbage dump. We were killing off animal, bird and insect species without even thinking about it.

And what’s more, the Right has promised us bloodshed if we don’t submit and let them take over our country and turn it into the Fourth Reich. (For the record, government control over reproductive freedom also means the government can decide when and if you have a child. That’s the slippery slope of reproductive control. Look up “sonnenkindern” sometime if you want to learn about the Nazi breeding program. I despair.

And I feel it is important to point out Hillary was right about everything, going back to that interview in 1993 when she said “there is a vast right-wing conspiracy.” She was always right, and never listened to, like Cassandra on the walls of Troy. I look at our country and our world right now and see that my own observations from the 1990s–that we were on the same path as Germany in the 1920s–were also correct. Ronald Reagan was the first “party above all else” conservative, and he also married the party to the evangelicals. The rot Nixon brought to the White House (“it’s no illegal when the President does it”) had already taken root in the party and Reagan’s co-infection accelerated the decline of the Republican Party into a power-hungry party of despots who do not recognize that they have degenerated into an anti-American party who thinks fascism is better than allowing Democrats, or anyone not evangelical or Republican, to rule and legislate.

It is so sad that the party that was originally formed to fight slavery has degenerated into what it has over the course of my lifetime. They’ve poisoned the discourse, deliberately blocked legislation that could be seen as a win, and then point to the failures that they created to blame Democrats for. The only thing they’ve truly accomplished this century is the takeover of the courts and the slide into Gilead and exploding the deficit while blaming Democratic programs that attempt to level the playing field for causing it. Not the corporate giveaways (how much do we need to be subsidizing oil companies for as they score record profits over and over again) which they are very careful to never characterize as what it actually is–corporate welfare–but somehow the deficit is the fault of food stamps and housing supplementation and public education. People always say the right is trying to turn the clock back to the 1950s but I’d say they are more interested in going back to the 1890’s, the Gilded Age of the robber barons. Bezos, Musk, and the others are no different from duPont or Rockefeller or Astor or Vanderbilt; unscrupulous men whose greed limits were never reached. Yet we are supposed to idolize these men, as the “entrepreneurs who built America.” That very same gilded age had all the same discrimination against women, queers and racialized people they want to bring back, plus even less regulation and no one gave a shit about the poor then, either.

And the irony that we are having a holiday to celebrate our freedom as our Constitution is literally turned into scrap paper by Republican appointees to federal judgeships is almost too much.

One thing that gives me heart and hope during these dark times is that we’ve had illegitimate supreme courts before that gave us such horrific decisions as Dred Scott or Plessy v. Ferguson, legal decisions that are horrific on their very face; we must always remember that SCOTUS upheld slavery in 1857, and Jim Crow in the early 1900s. Lincoln often ignored the rulings of his own Supreme Court when he felt it necessary; he was saddled with the same Roger P. Taney SCOTUS that ruled in Dred Scott.

If we survive this election in November–make no mistake, MAGA isn’t going anywhere, especially if they lose the election; it’s just a question of how violent their attempt will be–we also need to control Congress so we can pass legislation to control the Court and set up binding rules and a code of ethics. No gratuities for their decisions, ever; the fact that they are so blatantly corrupt will remain a scandal for the ages. You don’t fucking tip a judge, and that ruling was a clear indication that the court is rogue and some justices don’t support the Constitution, which is a violation of their oath and they also all lied to Congress during their Confirmation hearings, which is a fireable offense in the real world; you can lose your job in a finger snap if your boss finds out you lied during the interview to get the job…which means they could and should be impeached and tried in the Senate for corruption.

No one in this country is above the law. NO ONE. That was the entire fucking point of the country, you motherfuckers. Miss me with your “patriotism,” thank you very fucking much.

If they win or succeed at stealing the election–their hope in a close race is that it will end up in the Supreme Court, who will rule against the Democrats any chance they get, will reward them with the White House the same way it did in 2000 with Bush v. Gore, which was really the first stolen election of this century (if MAGA can also hang on to their Big Lie about 2020, I can also continue believing they stole 2016 as they did 2000) and a sad indicator of what the future held for the country.

And on that note, have a lovely 4th. And remember, everyone needs to vote this November. It’s important, unless it’s already too late.

cute-teen-high-school-boy-american-flag-shirt

I Won’t Last a Day Without You

Good morning! For me, at least, today is the midpoint of the work week. I am delighted to have a four day weekend, and it will be glorious once it arrives. Yesterday was another odd one, to be honest; I felt fine when I got up, but gradually grew more tired until by the time I came home I was pretty exhausted. We did watch House of the Dragon–which felt like more filler than anything else, yet again (this series we’ll show the aftermath of the battles instead of the actual battle!) and I did some reading, but other than that the evening was pretty much wasted for the most part. I slept really well last night, and this morning I am awake and feeling good. That hasn’t happened in the morning for a while, so here’s hoping the energy and the good mood and the feeling good lasts all day, shall we? I am going to run errands after work tonight and go to the gym on the way home.

I also got a bit unhinged yesterday because someone on my Facebook feed posted one of those namby-pamby, we-can-disagree-politically-but-still-be-friends bullshit, and I will not apologize for seeing red. I unfriended and blocked so fast my keyboard was literally smoking. That level of privilege nauseates me, because it reduces me–and others who don’t fit the white nationalist/American Nazi definition of a real American–and my existence, my rights…to nothing more than a “political opinion.” This is what I mean when I talk about casual cruelty–and what posting bullshit like that means to people like me. Do any of you have any idea what it feels like to be dismissed so completely in this manner by someone who has never, ever had to wonder “I wonder if I didn’t get the job because I was too gay-presenting” or “was that person a homophobe or just an asshole in general” or “what is this carload of young men acting like idiots up to?”

And really, isn’t that the primary problem we have in this country? People who just want to put up their hands and surrender because it’s difficult and bigotry against you doesn’t really harm me so why should I lose friends because they think you’re not human? Ha ha ha, can’t we all just get along? and the answer, for the record, to that is always no. You see, I have no problem with homophobes being homophobic. I don’t care if you’re homophobic. You want to leave those braces on your brain, be my guest. But you don’t get to pass laws that make me not a whole American citizen.

It was also ironic that after a lovely Pride Month on-line for the most part, this shit-bird decided to turn into a good little German on July 1. “Okay, Pride’s over, time to shit on the gays some more! You should be nicer to the people who tell you you’re going to Hell and you’re a pervert and an abomination and a groomer and a pedophile because it’s just a political opinion.”

Sorry you had to feel a little discomfort there, Mr. Straight Ciswhiteman! Good thing you don’t have to deal with it every fucking day, or have to worry every election season that you’re rights are going to be voted away (or stolen by a corrupt, illegitimate Supreme Court), right, since you have so much trouble dealing with discomfort…and then ask yourself this: how would I feel if someone told my queer daughter that her entire existence is reduced to being considered simply an opposing political opinion?

That should make you feel extremely uncomfortable. But most Americans tend to avoid things that make them uncomfortable. Imagine being told to “straighten up” because I am making some straight person squirm.

Well, it’s not my fault that you immediately think about gay sex whenever I am around or I am talking to you. I don’t think about straight sex whenever I am around or talking to a straight person, so maybe you should take a long hard look at your own obsession with sex, and maybe start working through that on your own, or with a therapist if you can afford it or your insurance will cover it. Who’s the sex-crazed pervert in this instance, freak?

And I don’t want to be friends with anyone who thinks that way, or can rationalize things like “Well, I’ve known Jimmy since we were kids and he’s a good guy. It bugs me when he says he thinks all homosexuals should be killed, but I’ve had good times with him before and I know he just says that for a reaction, so we just don’t talk about politics.” I am “white” but I refuse to be friends with racists, or with misogynists just because I also have a penis. But then I know what it feels like to watch your friends die while ‘christians’ cheer about the fatal disease “because it’s killing all the right people.”

Evangelical Christians were perfectly okay with letting us die in the 1980s and laughing about those deaths, like their cohorts in the Westboro Baptist Church. Why would I ever believe they’ve changed their minds when they still are out there advocating for stripping us of our full citizenship and would actually like us all to start dying again?

Ugh. It’s sooooo tiring. And it’s always, always the same old “what about the children” bullshit. Groomer, pedophile, “they need to recruit” on and on and on, lather, rinse, repeat. What’s even worse is that the current crop are really in it for the grift and attention. I honestly believe that Anita Bryant, horror that she was, actually believed what she was saying and she wasn’t doing it for money, power or attention. She did evil while thinking she was doing right….but the present day professional homophobes are all about money and power and grifting less worldly religious freaks out of what little money they have left.

And on that bitter note, it’s off to the spice mines with me. Have a lovely Tuesday, and I may be back later. I do need to write another Pride post, and I need to write my entry about Horror Movie. Sigh. Onward and upward.

If You Want to Get to Heaven

Nothing gives me greater pleasure than flaunting my sin in the face of hypocritical Christians who don’t understand their own holy book. I love using their archaic language on them, too–fornicators, adulterers, heretics, apostates, blasphemers, the Lake of Eternal Fire, etc.–because there’s nothing I despise more than the self-righteous apostates who think they are better than everyone else because “they’re saved.” Are you? Are you so sure?

I’ve always thought the proper response to the question of whether you were going to heaven or not was simply, “I don’t know, that’s God’s decision and so I hope he views me and my life with grace, charity, and compassion.”

And when I was about eight or nine, my grandmother bought me a copy of The Children’s Bible, which was filled with illustrations (amazing how all those Middle Eastern Israelites were white, and even some had blond hair and blue eyes)…and maybe (probably) it wasn’t the intent of the publisher, but there was some seriously homoerotic imagery in the book. About ten years ago I was thinking about The Children’s Bible and wondering whatever happened to my copy…and remembering some of the illustrations in it, I thought no, you can’t be remembering that correctly and so I went on eBay and bought a used copy.

And when it arrived, my memories were actually correct.

I mean, look at the muscles on Goliath. That image was burned indelibly into my brain, and it’s entirely possible my appreciation of muscles comes from….The Children’s Bible.

Perish the thought!

Grooming!

Indoctrination!

And of course, my favorite story in the book was David and Jonathan.

I mean, look at how they drew David!

I mean, it may not be Michelangelo, but damn.

(I also love that a Bronze Age Middle Eastern Jew somehow had pearly white skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight.)

I think my parents really liked that I was so devoted to The Children’s Bible, but they definitely had no idea why I was staring at the pages every day.

When I was a kid, I’d always reread the David and Jonathan story (can’t imagine why it was my favorite…). I wanted a best friend like David–I always saw myself as Jonathan, the supporting player, the way I always did–gorgeous and charismatic and beautiful and beloved of God. I would think about the story and while I was too young and innocent to conceive of it as anything other than friendship–the same way I thought of the “friendship” between Achilles and Patroclus in tales of the Trojan War–when I got older, whenever I thought about the story I wondered about how deep that friendship between Prince Jonathan and David son of Jesse was. Why include the story at all? It really doesn’t add a whole lot to the tale of David’s life, and did it really matter for King Saul to have a son who was David’s friend and great love? Jonathan dies–not even the Bible was immune from bury your gays–and David mourned him with a great grief that seemed a bit more than “my best bro died.” I wanted to write the story myself, despite my lack of historical knowledge of the period or even when it was actually set, but I wanted to write about their love, their falling in love–and let’s face it, God didn’t really seem to have a lot of problems with their relationship, did he? He didn’t come to David and tell him to stop giving it to Jonathan; God didn’t curse the two of them or punish Israel for it; and yes, Jonathan is eventually killed…but even then God doesn’t come to David and say, did you not read Leviticus? I could hardly let you go on fucking him forever, you know.

So, I guess I am supposed to read it literally and just think they were best friends and loved each other as brothers. Yeah, no. There’s absolutely no reason for this story to be included in the David story in the Bible; none, unless of course there’s a kernal of truth in the story (don’t come for me, I’ve never bothered to find out if the Bible’s Old Testament kings of Israel were real people; I do know that real people turned up in the Old Testament that existed in history–Babylonians and Assyrians, for example, as well as Egyptians)but the mystery for me of why this story was included, why it was included if its merely legend or why was it included if they were real is the real question. There’s no moral lesson to be learned from the story of their friendship; their love and loyalty to each other was an issue for Jonathan because his friend’s greatest enemy was Jonathan’s own father, a king anointed by God–despite God capriciously turning His back on Saul for really such an insignificant reason that it really just boiled down to God just liked David better; I always felt sorry for Saul–how much would it suck to lose God’s favor for no good reason? Just because God found someone He liked better? (And considering the things God forgave David for, or just overlooked, really makes the hard turn away from Saul that much more petty and bitchy.)

God’s kind of an asshole in the Old Testament, frankly.

But yes, I’d love to write this story sometime. (Because I don’t have enough else to do, right?) I’d also want to write it from Jonathan’s perspective, although the death would be hard to do (Madeline Miller managed it with Song of Achilles quite beautifully) story-wise; but is the kind of challenge I love. Maybe someday, and maybe writing it will help me in my constant and never-ending life quest to come to terms with the religious grooming drilled into my brain as a child. I even have a great title for it, too.

I also have a novel in mind revolving around Michelangelo’s statue of David, too; maybe I could combine research and do them at the same time. THAT would be a challenge, would it not?

Paging through it again this morning, I see that there are a lot of sexy men in little clothing in the illustrations, so I have to wonder, if like all the statuary and paintings in European churches and cathedrals, the artist was a gay man so he slipped in imagery for the viewing of other gays. Here are some of those images, culled from just flipping through a few pages.

Okay, maybe Samson isn’t a fair comparison as he was a strong man.
Apparently, ancient Egypt came up with a great exercise and diet plan for Joseph.
Again, Hebrews looking healthy, and Pharaoh’s milkshake brings the boys to the yard.
I also love that they went with daddy/twink for Cain and Abel.

And no need to worry about my blasphemy–“christians’ have told me all of my life that I’m going to hell, so as a friend says, “might as well grease up the hell-slide.”

(I’ve Been) Searching So Long

Sunday morning and I slept late. I’ve been off both days this weekend, not really sure what that’s about…but this morning when I saw the clock and the time, I remembered that either yesterday or Friday, I was confused about taking my daily pills and I may have taken them twice…and a double dose for one day of my daytime anti-anxiety medication definitely would have led to exhaustion. Lesson learned. I am usually a lot more careful about these things, and so I need to better about paying attention.

I was sleepy for most of the day yesterday. I ran errands and came home, and then started working on things again, which was terrific. I had low energy, obviously, but I cleaned out the two remaining file boxes in the living room, thus clearing out the corner where the boxes stood, and which will now be taken up by the vacuum cleaner and the crate of Sparky toys, which opens up the living room still further. I started clearing books out of the laundry room and am on pace to get that shelf emptied and used for pantry items. This overhaul of the downstairs will obviously continue Thursday as I begin my four day weekend. I also managed to finish reading Horror Movie yesterday, which was sublime and wonderful, and started John Copenhaver’s Hall of Mirrors, between breaks so I could rest. I took a lot of those breaks, I might add–and during several of them I started to fall asleep. I did nap for about half an hour in the late afternoon, which is weird–and today I still feel a bit sleepy. All I need to do outside today is go to the gym and make a very quick grocery run, and then I get to come home and hopefully shower and get some writing done. Stranger things have happened, you know.

But the house is a mess and I am working very hard not to chastise myself for the way I left the apartment looking when i went to bed last night, barely able to stagger up the stairs. It won’t take long, really–the majority of the mess in the living room is the donation pile, which simply needs to be stacked properly and loaded into boxes. Likewise the kitchen won’t take long to look orderly again, either. There’s a lot of stuff to be put away for sure in the kitchen, and I’m not done with the laundry room, either–but it’s not a priority and can wait until the holiday weekend if necessary.

Sigh. I’m also very behind on my Pride Posts, which will defiantly continue to run through the Independence Day holiday weekend as I celebrate queer independence, and pray for our gains not to be lost to the current joke of a Supreme Court. I will never forgive anyone involved in “but her emails” or “benghazi” or anything else that smeared and slandered the most qualified candidate for president in decades so we could get fascism instead. Thanks, privileged white liberals for thinking she was corrupt or too shrill or not charismatic enough. And don’t think I won’t keep bringing that up until we’ve survived (if we survive) this election. We lost Roe v. Wade in no small part because that arrogant, narcissistic Hollywood she-bitch sneered on national television that she “don’t vote with (my) vagina.”

I hope to either spit in her skank face or piss on her grave before I die, and thank you again for making any number of films I enjoy unwatchable again because all I think about when I see her face or hear her voice is “we lost our rights because you’re an arrogant bitch who thinks she is a political expert when the truth is you don’t know jackshit and learned NOTHING from the 2000 election when you helped elected Bush.”

There’s a direct line from her performative progressivism to every justice who overturned Roe. I wish someone would bring up Nader to her in an interview. 2016 was a repeat performance of 2000. And for the record, she is not an ally. AOC is, and understands how to get things done and has evolved and learned how to work for progressive causes in Congress. She is an actual hero.

And my inability to write my Pride Post about The Rocky Horror Picture Show is because I don’t want to mention her or use any of her images, which is difficult.

Hurricane Beryl apparently is now a Category 3, with the potential for becoming a 4 once it enters the Caribbean, which is rather early maybe for a storm this size, which doesn’t bode well when we’re kicking off the season and the B storm will come ashore as a 4. It looks like the most likely path means a Yucatan landfall before crossing the Gulf again to come ashore close to the Mexico/Texas border. There are also two other potential storms out there, one in the Gulf (what if Beryl consumes this one? YIKES) and one out in the Atlantic. I guess I need to start looking into hurricane supplies and get the house stocked up again.

Okay, that’s NOT helping, so I think I should head into the spice mines for now. I am going to eat something and start working on this mess while writing another entry. I may also be back later, since one never knows what I will be doing at any given time.

Daydream Believer

Ah, Saturday morning. I have to make a brief errand run today, nothing major or horribly annoying, but it still means going outside. Tomorrow….tomorrow I am not leaving the house. We did all our errands last night, including a Costco run (we made it out for less than $300! It’s been years), and then we just hung out and watched television–the gymnastics Olympic team trials–and called it a night relatively early. I also managed to get some things done around the house, too–the bed linens laundered, the dishes put away and another load washed, cleaning up the kitchen–and was in a pretty good mood almost the entire day. I realized something else, too; I also bought the new car and took on all that additional monthly expense right around when Mom had her first stroke, too–so there was the Mom subconscious worry on top of monetary stress; something I hadn’t experienced in a very long time and I. Did. Not. Like. That. One. Bit. I am finally beginning to see a distant light at the end of a very long dark tunnel in that regard, but still. I don’t regret the car purchase; I am very pleased with the car and intend to hopefully keep it until I die. It’s hard to believe that I’ve had it now for almost eight years. That’s INSANE.

It was strangely cool and beautiful yesterday–granted, it was 86 degrees, but after the last few weeks it felt heavenly, and the damp in the air was cool not hot. I imagine that was the aftermath of Thursday night’s downpour, but regardless the reason it was lovely. The sun wasn’t out as much, either–there were a lot of clouds, so no endless punishing direct sunlight was also a pleasure to experience this close to the 4th. I am also going to have to keep watching Tropical Storm Beryl. Ah, hurricane season is already revving up for a long and busy summer.

I was also exhausted after we did the errands. I fell asleep in my chair for over an hour after getting back home, and the place is a mess. I was too tired when I got home from Costco (the last errand) to put everything away properly, and I’d also intended to do some work on the workspace, but…tired. I slept later this morning and feel better now that I am up and swilling coffee, but whew, it was hard to get up this morning and my joints all ached. The joys of being an elder, I suppose, but sheesh. I literally thought when I woke up (when Sparky woke me up) that I was too tired physically to get out of bed, but I got there eventually. I do have some errands to run today, but it shouldn’t take very long and then I can come back home and work on the house more. I also want to write this morning (and maybe this afternoon) and hopefully today I won’t get sidetracked or distracted.

The gymnastic trials were fun to watch; I always forget how fun it is to watch athletes trying to reach their dream goal of the Olympics–but of course the thrill of victory also carries with it the agony of defeat or worse, injury. It’s also hard for me to conceive that it’s an Olympic year and I’ve heard so very little about the Olympics (other than Parisians treating it all as a horror and inconvenience; I do sometimes think the Olympics will eventually die because they are too expensive to host) because naturally the election and the horrors that the Christofascists’ puppet SCOTUS are inflicting on our country are sucking all the energy and air out of the room.

I was too tired to make a Pride post yesterday, so I will definitely have to make up for it today by doing perhaps two? I am going to continue Pride through Independence Day, haters be damned, because Pride is about freedom and so is the 4th and therefore Pride should lead into a celebration of everyone’s freedom. And if straight people don’t like it, they can literally just fuck right off. I am so tired of being told how to behave and how to be an adult and how to “not upset the heteros” and you know what? Fuck the heteros and their delicate sensibilities. They’ve been tiptoed around and catered to more than enough, thank you very much. You know what offends me? Abused children, adultery, deadbeat dads, racism, transphobia, homophobia, and misogyny. Clean up your own fucking house before you come for queers, thank you very much. But it’s easier to blame us than take any responsibility for the messy world you’ve created, isn’t it?

And may no one else ever have to fear about their rights every election cycle–although SCOTUS has already delegitimized itself and we know they are coming for marriage equality at some point, too–and sooner than we think. And just remember–there is no divine right of Republicans to rule. How are they any different from the Jacobean Stuart kings of England? Claiming a God-given right, or a “divine mandate”, to be in power is hardly a Christian thought; Jesus said very clearly (if you believe the Bible) that his kingdom was not of this world, and coerced religious conversion isn’t what the Jesus I read about and studied would have wanted for anyone. (I still don’t believe that, if Jesus were real, that he was sent here to start a new religion, but rather to teach by example what a life devoted to good works and godliness looked like.

Funny how all they care about is the Word and not the Deeds.

Well, that got feisty for a bit, didn’t it? I guess I am more awake than I gave myself credit for! I also managed to finish reading Horror Movie by Paul Tremblay, which I really enjoyed (he is a masterful writer, and the language is superb). I am still digesting that book today, because it was a lot of ideas and intense creativity, which is why he’s one of my favorite writers and I am saddened to realize I am running out of his backlist to read, which means postponing reading more of him because I never want to be out of things to read by authors I really enjoy. I am planning on starting the new John Copenhaver today as well, which is exciting. I have quite a recent-release TBR pile–Kellye Garrett, Amina Akhtar, Angela Crook, Angie Kim, and Scott Carson, to name a few glittering names from the stack–and more just keep getting released every month. Sigh. I also need to do a book purge this weekend, too. Heavy heaving sigh. It never ends, does it?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Saturday wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll definitely be checking back in with you later.

Hollywood Swinging

Everybody is a star in Hollywood!

Or so the song by the Village People would have us believe, at any rate.

I’m not sure what it is about Hollywood, movies, and stars that draws gays like moths to an outdoor night light, but there you have it. We’ve fallen in love with movie stars and made them into icons–and interestingly enough, we always seem to like the same ones for the most part–Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, Katharine Hepburn, Judy, Liza, Barbra, Cher, Madonna, Lady Gaga, and so on; almost like there’s some kind of weird genetic link between the majority of gay cisgender white men that draws us all to the same things, so much that even straight people know who the women are that we idolize.

Why this is the case, I have no idea. But gay men have also significantly impacted how we as a society and culture look at men’s bodies, too–see previous post about how what was considered sexy in a man began changing in the 1970s, and continued evolving until what gay men (theoretically) found hot was what everyone considered hot for a man.

When I was a kid it was also believed that bodybuilders were mostly gay, too–because only gay men had the free time to develop and work their bodies…so the gay male attraction to muscular fit men was enough for society to say that about bodybuilders. (I have always appreciated bodybuilders aesthetically, but they leave me cold. They are so not sexy, despite the skimpy bikinis they pose in (gay men were also, for a long time, the only ones who weren’t competitive swimmers who wore speedos), and they never really have been.

But gay photographers began making bank in the late 1940s and 1950s by launching “physique magazines” as a cover for gay eroticism; they would find incredibly handsome men with worked out bodies and photograph them in “classical” poses. This dodge was how they got around pornography and postal obscenity charges; no visible penises, and the men were always posed like classical paintings or statuary to “show off their physiques”. Some of the men who posed for these photographers often did so early in their careers (Yul Brynner was one of many who did these kind of photo shoots to pay the bills), and never really hid their past as physique models–but they also didn’t bring it up much. Nudes for a male (or scantily dressed at least) weren’t as big an issue as they were for women; but male nudes weren’t exactly a boost to one’s career.

The gorgeous Ed Fury, who did some Hercules/hero type roles in movies in the 50s/60s

These old photos–and 8 mm physique films that were sold to private viewers–are astonishing to come across in the modern day and leaves so much to be explained1. Hollywood has always done a great job about covering up the same-sex attractions and predilections of movie stars; look at Randolph Scott and Cary Grant’s five years living together, or any number of other male stars. I’ve started looking into this a bit more because it’s all research for Chlorine, and it’s a plot point in the book. (It also gave me an idea for another noir, called Obscenity.) It’s very fascinating to me. The more I learn about Hollywood, and how things worked, and how rife with homosexuality that the studio assiduously kept secret, the more interested I am in those decades when studio bosses held all the power, when their fixers went around cleaning up after their stars, and the secret homosexuality just out of view there. Tab Hunter, Rock Hudson, and of course, the agent who represented all the beautiful boys: Henry Willson, who more than anything else is a tragic figure that I can’t help feeling sorry for, despite how awful he actually was…I am more willing to give queers forgiveness because of the toxic times they lived in and how they had to survive. (Roy Cohn, on the other hand, can burn in hell right next to J. Edgar Hoover and Clyde Tolson) Reading The Man Who Made Rock Hudson, a very well written biography of Willson, really made me feel sorry for him in many ways and understand perhaps why he was so damned awful.

It was also the times.

William J. Mann, by the way, has done some excellent queer Hollywood history non-fiction, if you want to a good place to start reading up on it.

I’m really looking forward to doing more research on physique magazines.

  1. This was the birth of gay porn, really, which makes it all the more interesting to me. ↩︎

Seasons in the Sun

Tuesday and back to the office this morning with me. It feels right, you know? Yesterday I was kind of bored and low energy. I did some chores, worked on the files some, did some writing, and reading (Horror Movie is terrific; Paul Tremblay is really a spectacular writer), but overall I was feeling pretty low energy by the time the late afternoon rolled around, and I didn’t have a problem with it, really. I got up early, after all, to get used to it, and I’d done a lot over the previous two days; and everything else that needs to be done in here can be broken down into separate small chores, which is far easier to scratch off the list and a lot more satisfying. Paul had to go out for the evening last night to go to a reading, and didn’t get home until after I went to bed. I slept very well, too.

So I am feeling up for going back to work this morning; I feel very rested and relaxed, and I only have to be in the office for three days this week, and three days next, too. I think I am going to take Friday the 5th off, might as well have another four day weekend when it presents itself this way, don’t you think? I thought it would take much longer to get through the filing, in all honesty, and to be sure, it’s not exactly finished either. But I would have never dreamed I could get so much done so quickly, either. I have another drawer to go through, and then everything needs to be alphabetized…but most of the duplicates have been combined, all the files pertaining to a certain book have been also gathered togetherm and now I have to start finishing books, you know? Tonight I have to get the mail and go to the gym before I get home, which will be nice. There are a couple of chores I started and need to finish–laundry and dishes, as always–before I can settle in to write and/or read tonight. (I suspect I’ll be tired and reading is the most likely option. I do want to get Horror Movie finished so I can start another one.) It also rained overnight–more rain later in the week to come–and so I can probably put off washing the car for another weekend.

We’re also running out of Pride Month, and I have a lot of entries left to complete. Heavy sigh. It’s not easy when you don’t really have a plan. The ones that are left will wind up lengthier than the ones I’ve already done, and I don’t think I’m necessarily the best at winging it, you know? There are a couple that I’ve been wanting to finish for several years now–including one about masculinity, one about old Hollywood and physique magazines (which I want to write a book about eventually), and one about The Children’s Bible, because I looked upon those images inside with desire when I was a child. I should also probably do Playgirl magazine as well. So many potential entries, so few days. Heavy heaving sigh.

But I like the uncluttered look the apartment is now getting. I still want to do the drawers and the cabinets, and of course the attic is a big project I may save for Labor Day weekend. It’s so lovely to be making progress again.

It was also kind of nice that I really did take most of the day off yesterday because of the low energy and it seems to have worked its magic, so on this note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.

How Do You Do

Good morning! How is everyone feeling on this day after the holiday? I feel good, actually, and very well-rested this morning and ready to get through my last day in the officer for the week, which feels kind of weird. I did some more thinking about writing yesterday, primarily how to structure the second chapter so we learn more about the main character’s past without getting bored, which is always the worry. I also cleaned up and did chores around here, so tomorrow I won’t be playing catch-up on everything heading into the weekend. I still have Monday off, which is going to be another lovely at-home day–and will shorten the week dramatically, which is nice.

Paul worked at home yesterday but rarely came downstairs; it’s weird how we can both be home all day and not see each other a lot. We need our plumber to come in and do some repair work; the sink upstairs isn’t draining, there’s an issue with the shower, and of course the garbage disposal/dishwasher situation needs resolving as well, which will be great to get all fixed now. Yay! It’s just a matter of when Randy has time to come out and work on it all.

I read for a while yesterday morning; Horror Movie is quite good, and am looking forward to spending some more time with it this weekend. I also should be reading queer writers this month, and it does not speak well of me that it took me this long into the month to realize and recognize that. Bad gay, bad gay! I will resolve that by reading the new John Copenhaver, and I may make July my Queer Reading Month. I also worked on one of my Pride posts yesterday but didn’t finish it. I’ll try to get another one done today–International Male catalogues would be a good one, especially since they are no longer in business; it’s an important part of gay male fashion history, isn’t it? I did spend a good part of the day watching old “what the 1970s were like” videos–pop culture and some news, mostly; but it’s nice to be reminded of things like old commercial jingles, or what fast food work uniforms looked like, and what movies/television shows were being released and were in the zeitgeist.

In other “Louisiana is becoming a Puritan dictatorship” news, our shitbird governor signed a bill requiring the Ten Commandments be displayed in every public school classroom in the state. Never mind that Roy Moore tried this shit in Alabama only to get slapped around for it by SCOTUS, but there’s no doubt in my mind that the Christofascists running that branch of the government would uphold this law. The idiocy of this, not only on a Constitutional level but a Christian one as well; it’s basically apostasy and everything Jesus warned about in the New Testament, but of course all the people who think they are decent human beings only because of a fear of going to hell are also into ostentatious displays of their faith–because it is so hollow no one will know they are Christians from how they behave and how they treat people, which is how you are supposed to bear witness.

Not to mention that they should believe that they have a new covenant with God through Jesus, and the Old Testament’s rules and edicts about behavior are the old covenant; so why would you show your devotion to Christ by displaying relics of the old one? Which Jesus had nothing to do with it? Again, it’s very hard to take Christians seriously when they don’t even understand their own faith, you know?

Not to mention there will be lawsuits–which Governor Landry “can’t wait” to be sued. Um, that’s Louisiana taxpayer money you will be using to defend these unconstitutional laws, and while his Bible-thumping is playing well with the racist cosplay Christians of the state, the ones who’ve never read or studied their Bible but do what their preacher says, I’m going to say his popularity will undoubtedly crest within the next two years and people are going to start turning on him, as they did with Bobby Jindal. Louisiana votes may not be the brightest bulbs in the chandelier, but they eventually see through charlatans who tell them what they want to hear and do nothing for them. Jindal and David Vitter both found that out the hard way.

And hilariously, they don’t even follow the Ten Commandments themselves. What is a cross if not a graven image? How many of them take the Lord’s name in vain (which isn’t saying god damn it or Jesus fucking Christ, but rather false prayer or using the Lord’s name for something false–like claiming to know God’s will)? How many of them bear false witness? How many of them honor their parents? How many of them condone or look the other way from adultery? And on and on it goes; in fact, placing the Ten Commandments in classrooms–indoctrination–is actually taking the Lord’s name in vain.

So many “christians” (like our governor) love to take the Lord’s name in vain and are in for a big shock when they reach the pearly gates and find out they were self-righteous, not righteous in the Lord.

And yes, I speak evangelical.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.

Macho Man

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Macho macho man…I’ve got to be a macho man….

Sadly, this entry isn’t really about Macho Man Randy Savage, but I did meet him once, and yes, I always did think he was sexy; that body, the wild hair, the voice–the skill in the ring, and that amazing ass…yes, I was a fan of his. How I met him was when I worked at the airport–a lot of pro wrestlers lived across the bay from Tampa in either St. Petersburg or Clearwater or any of the communities on the peninsula, which means they had to fly in and out of the airport. One night I was covering Baggage Service, and was doing the fun thing of sending messages through the system about whatever bags were misdirected to us, or were simply late arrivals that needed delivering. I was by myself and merrily typing away at my keyboard when I heard the door open and before I looked up heard that unmistakable voice asking if a flight had arrived. Startled and wide-eyed, I gave him the information, and I could see he knew I recognized him–he scribbled his name on a ticket envelope, I babbled out that I was a fan, and he was very kind, friendly and gracious…which is why what eventually became of him was very sad to me. We never know what demons people are battling inside, do we?

The word macho is Spanish, and el macho or la machismo are Spanish terms that bled over into, and was appropriated by, American English, and it’s something, in all honesty, I’ve never cared for; it isn’t Spanish for toxic masculinity, but it might as well be. I first became aware of the term in the 1970s, which was also the time when the women’s movement was getting underway and feminism became a thing. Suddenly, all the things that were “manly” were under review (some straight white men certainly felt they were under attack instead; words matter); and the established protocols of what was and wasn’t ‘manly’ began to be reexamined and frankly, found wanting. Macho, or toxic masculinity, also wasn’t good for men either; they are trapped in a gender role that is kind of outdated but at the same time they may not fit into comfortably, either. The strong, silent type–remember that? That was the definition of manly; no emotions, no feelings, the provider and protector of the nuclear family…which begs the question, isn’t that emotionally crippling in some ways?

And where do gay men fit into this?

I sometimes think queer equality also threatened the role of the ‘macho’ male in our society and culture; straight men were supposed to be so deadly dull in real life, in the way they dressed and played and wore their hair and did all their manly things in that John Wayne/Gary Cooper mold…but gay men? Gay men could dress to accentuate their positives and look good. They cared about their hair and how they presented themselves to the world. There were some professions or sports that weren’t considered ‘manly’ enough–despite the fact that those things might actually demand more from the male body than other sports–football is manly because it’s violent and involves hitting other men with great force; while figure skating and ballet are not manly because it requires beauty of movement, and being graceful: men aren’t supposed to be grateful.

And that freedom to be ourselves was something to be envied by men trapped by conditioning, both socially and culturally, to be unemotionless drones with no way to express themselves other than through violence and anger.

I’ve always theorized that homophobia is subconsciously rooted in envy (of course, most people immediately zero in on ‘rejecting their own attraction to men’, which is also probably accurate in some cases). The stereotyped gay man has a lot more sex with a lot more different partners than straight men (not always the case, of course) and the idea of gay sex clubs (bathhouses, backroom bars, that sort of thing) where someone can go and have their fill of anonymous sex as long as they are capable and willing drives straight men crazy because most of them don’t have anything like that in their lives. Gay men were free from responsibility, from being what society sees as manly, and didn’t have to have kids or any of the other responsibilities that weigh down straight men and keep them, sometimes, from chasing dreams and living their life the way they want to; to paraphrase, ‘forced into a life of quiet desperation with no way out.’

I always found it amusing that the Village People, who had their moment in the sun during the disco years, always recorded gay-flavored songs cheerfully that were also dance hits that infiltrated the pop charts and the straight dance clubs, songs alluding to the gay world simmering just below the surface of American culture at that time.. They wore outfits that featured male images that gays saw as sexy icons of masculinity–the Native American, the cop, the sailor, the biker–and had hit songs that hinted about the pleasures of gay life. Some members of the band were gay, and the Village in their name referenced one of the more famous gayborhoods in the county, Greenwich Village in Manhattan.

Come on. I lived in Kansas during the heyday of the Village People–they were already out of fashion by the time we moved to California; but even I knew what their songs meant and what their costumes meant.

And the songs? Please. “Macho Man” was about hyper-masculinity, which was a gay fetish; “In the Navy”–well, everyone has always considered the Navy, going back to the British Empire, as a hotbed of homosexual activity (what with them being at sea for months at a time only in the company of other men; “YMCA” was about all the endless possibilities for.gay sex at the Y–also a notorious cruising spot for gays; “San Francisco” was of course the motherland for gays; and so on). I have always found all the straight people at sporting events, dancing and singing along to “YMCA” hilarious–because they don’t know they are singing and dancing to a song about the availability of gay sex there. I also found The Traitor dancing to “Macho Man’ at campaign rallies hilarious because of how much more stupid he looked because he and no one around him had any idea of what that song was about.

Straight people can be so clueless sometimes–but it’s always good to have the occasional hearty gay laugh at their expense, isn’t it?

Paperback Writer

John Copenhaver, one of queer crime’s latest (and brightest) stars recently (you should read his books, frankly; I am looking forward to his latest, Hall of Mirrors) wrote a brilliant essay on the concept of writing complex queer characters, and the artistic need to push beyond ‘gay is good’ messaging and not worrying about the question of role models which you can read by clicking here. I highly recommend it–it’s well thought, reasoned, and stylishly written, and the kind of thing I wish I could write.

But reading this essay made me think about my own work, the pressures I’ve had–either real or imagined–about representation and addressing social issues through the framework of queer people and characters, and made me think about the work I do from not only a creative view (which is how i always view my work) but from a cultural, political, and societal perspective. That’s not something I’ve ever really consciously done (“oh, let’s make this political“) but one thing I’ve never done is worry about how straight people might react to my work…primarily because it isn’t really for them that I write my books in the first place. If my work offends straight people that isn’t my problem, nor is their whining about how queer people see and perceive them…and it’s not like there aren’t millions of books designed as comfort reads for cishet white people. I’ve also never understood taking offense at a book. I’ve read plenty of books whose point of view I’ve neither understood nor care to; and I tend to not read anything that I think is going to either offend me or be antithetical to everything I read–I tend to avoid Westerns, international spy thrillers, and war novels, and mostly for the same reason I tend to avoid most cishet white male authors. Your work isn’t written for me, and I can’t imagine westerns to be not problematic1–likewise, I’m not interested in reading about toxic male he-men that are racist rah-rah-rah books to make white men feel better about themselves (you know who you are) and so I avoid covers that pretty much spell out to me what the contents are going to be–women who exist only to be beautiful sex toys, any gay characters are offensive stereotypes and usually die, and so on and so forth; I love my country in spite of its flaws, and that love is strong enough to bear critiques on our nation and the people who run it, so I don’t need to read fiction designed to make me thump my chest and scream AMERICA LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT at anyone who dares critique the country and its domestic and foreign policies.

If cishet white people enjoy my work, fine. If they don’t, well, as I said it isn’t intended for them in the first place.

first author photo

When I first dreamed of being a writer, it never occurred to me to write about gay characters or themes. I was a child, for one, and for another that child was terrified that anyone might figure out that I wasn’t one of the “normies”, and what I actually was inside was something they’d all view with contempt. When I was a kid I wanted to write a kids’ series, like Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, and even came up with multiple different ones that I wanted to write, and came up with a rather lengthy list of titles for the books (which I still have, because I’d still like to try this at some point before I die), and gradually moved on to wanting to write other styles of books as I got older and began reading more. My addictions to soaps, both daytime and nighttime, during the late 1970s thru the early 1990’s, had me looking at writing more about towns and large casts of characters, and I always wrote a murder mystery into my ideas for these Peyton Place type novels I wanted to write; I also wanted to write Gothic suspense novels, and Stephen King had me also wanted to write mainstream horror novels…and later on, I moved into wanting to write horror/suspense/crime novels for young people.

It wasn’t until I met Paul, and I found gay bookstores, that I realized I could write gay stories and themes and characters, and I decided I wanted to write gay crime novels, set in New Orleans, and so that’s what I set out to do, starting a novel called The Body in the Bayou, which I had already thought up as a series about a straight Houston private eye–so I made the main character gay and moved it to New Orleans. I threw out the first ten chapters within two weeks of moving here, and started over again.

Promo photo for my old training business

And then I found myself in the conundrum John talks about in his essay so brilliantly; is it okay to have queer characters be the bad guy? Do we have to write all of our stories and novels from a thematic viewpoint that ‘gay is good’? Do we as creators have a responsibility to the community to only present queer people as heroic, or can they be flawed or even bad?

Author photo from 2007

I’ve talked about this before–how the idea for the case in Murder in the Rue Dauphine came to me, and I also worried about how the book would be received because I was explicitly creating a case and a world where not all queer people were good people. It was inspired by a gay man who came to New Orleans, got involved in the non-profit world here, threw a bunch of money around, and then disappeared overnight as his house of cards was about to collapse, stealing a shit ton of money and owing everyone a lot of money. That was when I realized how we always are welcoming to other queer people and we can sometimes overlook red flags and warning signs because you’re working with another queer person. We tend to give other queer people the benefit of the doubt and more chances than we would a straight person…and I wanted to explore that in fiction. Shining heroes without feet of clay also aren’t fun or interesting to write about, either.

Gay isn’t always good.

Most recent author photo, and I definitely need a new one.

And we aren’t doing our readers any services by creating “perfect” characters, either. Neither Chanse nor Scotty is perfect (although Scotty’s definitely an idealized person, I have to admit, but he does have flaws and blind spots) and the main characters in my stand alones are often messy, sloppy people who need to get out of their own way sometimes. Those are the kinds of characters I like to read about–because they are human.

I also find gay criminality enjoyable to read. James Robert Baker’s books were like being slapped in the face; full of gay anger and revenge and bitterness about the homophobic world in which we all exist–but Baker’s messy characters are active; they want revenge on the world and by God they are going to get it. The Ripley books by Patricia Highsmith are magnificent. Christopher Bollen’s A Beautiful Crime was terrific with its messy gay characters perpetrating a fraud.

I think we relate to and enjoy messy criminal queers because they are so relatable to us. There’s no worse feeling than powerlessness, the inability to control your own destiny and life, and always wondering …is it because I’m gay? I’ve gotten angry about this any number of times during my life, and I have always wondered somewhat would this happen to a straight man? and the answer is always no.

But do read John’s article. It’s very well done and thought provoking, and I’m going to let it simmer in my head for a while longer.

  1. Westerns would be a good discussion for another time, actually.
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