Saturday, August 26, 2006

From the Cunning Linguist

My lip bleeds in remembrance of you
Thoughts tumble out - calling out for you
My lip bleeds in remembrance of you
Thoughts tumble out - calling out for you

Just fuck it up, forget about these longings
Pains that ate my heart, hide them over, sit up.
Just fuck it up, forget about these longings
Pains that ate my heart, hide them over, sit up.

My throat swells in desire of you
Useless sorry scream thinking there for you
My throat swells in desire of you
Useless sorry scream thinking there for you....
-Be Your Own Pet - Take That Walk

I pretty much put the word 'fuck' in those lyrics a bunch of times because it seemed like a good idea at the time. In fact no one on the internet seems to know what that word is, and I find that kind of fascinating and bizarre. If anyone's familiar with semi-obscure music from Pandora could you send the real lyrics my way? Thanks.

That subject heading, by the way, comes from a two hour conversation I had with the Boy, my dearest love of yore, on the phone last night. One of the first things he said to me was, "so, how's the Cunning Linguist?" Hafuckingha. This is his pretend bitterness about having both his ex-girlfriends turn to women post-Boy-relationship with him. The two things are utterly unrelated of course, as I really, really loved and wanted him for nearly five years, and if anything what I had with him assures me that attraction to men is probably still in the cards for me.

Sometimes I forget how very funny and brilliant he is. I wonder if after every subsequent break-up I will miss him as terribly as I do now. Maybe it's just because I'm ridiculously horny and sex with him was always amazing and uncomplicated. Curse the fact that he has a new girlfriend. Otherwise I would, as I put it last night, sneak into his house in the middle of the night and jump him. Haha. I am so predictable. At least we had a nice conversation and managed once again to play our little Edward Gorey game whereby we go through the alphabet in turns, letter by letter, reciting that dark and witty little poem about the dead children that we memorized years ago. Yes, we're peculiar, and it was always nice to know that I shared that with him.

I have to go out tonight, to Sophie's show, and drink and dance and get crazy and not give a flying fuck whether I run into Hayley or not. But the biggest question of all is what on earth do I wear? I always have the hardest time getting dressed to go to drag events, cause I don't want to look too girly but I also don't want to look like I've spent any time thinking about my appearance. The best thing to do is go slightly edgy rockstar, but I seem to lack any clothing that fits that description. How lame. This is why I need a sister. I can't raid my brother's smelly biological-waste-filled closet for his huge Adidas shirts and 6'2" jeans anymore than I can ever be 5'10" and as thin as a fashion model.

That and sisters tend not to come home stone drunk at 4:00 am and sit on your floor until it's sticky and covered in boy germs, reeking of liquor and telling you about how they jumped the fence at the RAV construction site with their girlspacefriend and got a not-so-stern little talking to from a security guard with a flashlight.

Sisters tend not to regale you with tales of their prodigious liquor mixing abilities, or about how they've started drinking Prairie Fires, these nasty tequila shots consisting of Jose Cuervo and enough tabasco sauce to make that tasty golden cactus liquid turn bright red. Sisters probably don't tell you about how they drank seven or eight different kinds of liquor in a single evening until you're practically nauseous yourself just thinking about it.

And sisters tend not to call you up in the middle of the afternoon to tell you that they hope you didn't "get the wrong idea" from the night they spent with some girl in the room separated from yours by a mere layer of drywall and plywood. Sisters tend not to inform you that they didn't actually have sex, so you shouldn't think that they're "a big chav." Oh lord, how silly. As if I would ever think less of someone else for their perfectly harmless sex lives.

Speaking of sex lives, I've discovered that the more time I spend with queer people, the more I find our heteronormative society really, really baffling. It's not that I don't understand people being straight, because I was ostensibly straight for many years, it's more that I find the world more and more puzzling in the assumptions it makes and the straightness it perceives in me and in just about everyone else who looks fairly mainstream.

My old friend Kev once said to me that he couldn't help being afraid of being gay because all the images everywhere, on TV, magazines, movies, billboards, and newspapers were of straight people. No one tells children stories about Beauty being woken up by a kiss from a girl. And Prince Charming never goes to the ball with a boy, or finds the glass slipper that fits Austin Scarlett's cute little foot.

I don't expect to see myself represented on television anymore than I ever did, but it is interesting to me that gay characters are still unusual, alternative, and most importantly, controversial in the mainstream media. I feel the same way about the way Hollywood shows sex in the movies. Explicit sex is still hugely taboo in films unless you're watching pornography, at which point it becomes incredibly fake and absolutely moronic in its goal-oriented lack of subtlety and realism. I always wondered why there couldn't just be regular, intelligent films with characters and a plot that just showed people having sex the way they do in real life, without sheet togas, Carrie Bradshaw fucking in a bra, awkward cuts to the next scene, transparent allusions to sexual activity, and kissing scenes that we're supposed to imagine end in sex because the lights go out. How lame.

By the same token, why can't we just have regular TV shows with regular gay characters who don't necessarily talk like Jack on Will & Grace, or dress in drag, or look like boys, or wear lipstick, or have perfect long blond hair? Why are they always "controversial" aspects of said TV show or movie, and not just par for the course? It's just the assumption that everyone is straight, and if they're not they're pretty freaky and campy and out-of-the-ordinary that continues to bug me.

I realise that wasn't a terribly articulate little argument, so go read Earlbecke's post against heteronormativity. She says it way better than I do.

This is too long, so I'm signing off.

But I would be interested as always to know what everyone thinks.


by Nome at 12:54 PM
4 mews

    Welcome. This is the humble chronicle of my life & my thoughts on the world as I see it. If you know me in real life and want to keep my trust, PLEASE ASK BEFORE READING! I'm not accountable to you or to anyone else for what I say in these pages. Comments are much appreciated, but but insults and personal attacks will not be tolerated. Please respect privacy and anonymity - nicknames or pseudonyms only. This is my space to be an adult - kids should go elsewhere. Thanks, and enjoy.

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