Y’all, I wrote fiction yesterday. I know, right? Needless to say, I was thrilled and delighted, and I definitely am still feeling euphoric this morning about it.
It was only a thousand or so new words on the new first chapter of Chlorine, but y’all–I didn’t have to force it and it flowed out of me the way that it used to. His voice was loud and clear in my head and I was there, in that zone, and Mary Mother of God1, when I tell you I can’t even describe how good it felt to be doing this work, setting up the story, sharing who the main character is, seeing it all through his eyes…marvelous. What precisely was I so afraid of, again? Oh yes, that it wouldn’t come back, and who could blame it? We live in interesting times, I’ve gotten much older, and I am still not 100% completely healthy in mind and spirit…but my spirit is centered and where it needs to be, and motherfuckers, I wrote fiction yesterday. I still can do it. I still have whatever it is in my brain that channels this through my fingers and onto the page, and it’s glorious. It may come and go, as it is wont to do sometimes, but this is the first time I’ve written fiction in a long time–and it’s also the first time in a long time that it actually felt good to do it.
Apparently there are youngsters who don’t know who THE Madonna is? Shame on you all! Madonna is a fucking legend, bitches–put some goddamned respect on her name! ESPECIALLY YOU YOUNG QUEERS. Know your history, know your icons and why they are icons, and be better. MADONNA stood up for the queer community during HIV/AIDS before most celebrities and she has always been a huge ally for us. I suppose next they’re not going to know who Elizabeth Taylor was…I saw a theory on-line yesterday about how these things are now possible, while we knew the music and stars of previous generations because we all didn’t have personal phones, and there were only three channels on the television, and we were exposed to the art of previous generations that way (and listening to the communal car radio on drives) and now…everyone has their own phones and playlists and so forth, so such cross-generational sharing of art no longer happens. It was an interesting theory, and it’s been echoing in my brain since I first saw it. My father loved 1950’s music and country; Mom was more mellow and loved Lawrence Welk and the kind of music she played on the piano growing up. My childhood was filled with the music of Patsy Cline, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, George Jones, and that entire generation of country legends, and even the lesser known ones. I’m also glad this kind of exposure broadened my own musical tastes and aesthetics, and damn it, every young queer should know who Madonna and Elizabeth Taylor are/were. It’s queer history. There are many others, too, that you should know. Always remember, queer history isn’t as well-documented as it should be, nor is it reported on properly, so passing the knowledge down by word of mouth has always been important. Maybe the young, with their phones and ear buds and all the information of the world at their fingertips, don’t think they need to know about those who came before? I do remember explaining who Sylvester was to some young co-workers, and even playing the video for “You Make Me Feel Mighty Real” for them.
Yes, kids, we’ve always had bops.
I had a good day yesterday, although I could tell my injection is due today. Nothing major, but heartburn and gas and a mild discomfort, and a little dehydration to go with it. Like I said, I actually wrote fiction, read a chapter of Listen for the Whisperer, and as mentioned earlier, I worked on my own fiction writing, which was terrific and as I mentioned already, am still a bit euphoric. The Bold Strokes Book-a-thon was a lot of fun and reminded me that yes, Greg, you are a writer even if you never write anything else ever again, and of course, I write this every day (even though I only count fiction). My supervisor is in London for two weeks for a very well-deserved vacation, so I have more duties and responsibilities while she’s gone (hurray), but I’m hoping it won’t be a stressful, tiring week, and of course at the end of next week I am off to Alabama/Florida for Decoration Day and to see my recently widowed aunt. This month has really been nuts, hasn’t it? And next month is all about the doctors appointments, and blood work. Onward and upward, as I always say.
We started watching a creepy documentary about FLDS, called Trust Me: The False Prophet, which is about the aftermath of the arrest and conviction of their former child molesting prophet, Warren Jeffs (we’ve watched several documentaries about that pedophile already) and someone who stepped in and claimed Jeffs had “claimed and named” him as the new prophet so he could accumulate wealth (he was kind of a loser) and wives–including underage ones. I had never really thought about it before, but of course those women are groomed and conditioned to accept whatever their Prophet tells them is the Lord’s will. It really is fascinating to see how easy people can be conditioned to follow a man (or men in general) who is stealing their lives, their skills and abilities, and who they actually should have grown up to be. I do hope Sarah Weinman takes this on at some point.
I’m feeling a little bit more connected to myself these days, too–maybe I should have started all this introspective naval-gazing sooner? No, probably not. There was a reason for me to not examine myself and my life more deeply and objectively, and I needed to get older (and medicated) in order to do this work on myself. I’m trying very hard to get rid of the last vestiges of trying to please that is still wired into my brain.
I also started working on my next newsletter, which may even go out on Wednesday like it’s supposed to. Consistency, that’s me. The on-line rape academy report recently published by CNN (which came under attack almost immediately, because we must not ever talk bad about the menfolk! Their fragile egos and incredibly weak senses of self must be protected at all costs!!!) was disgusting but also my way in to talk about another reason I felt isolated from other boys (later, men), namely, that I never held girls/women in contempt the same way my male peers did?
Here’s hoping I hit that Wednesday target.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. The temperature dropped yesterday when the rain finally concluded, but I am sure will be sweltering by the time I get off work. Until tomorrow, Constant Reader, and have a good one!
- Shout out to Pope Leo! ↩︎
Queer and Loathing in America 