Ha. I'm between social engagements. Heads swirling with wine and my fingers are warming themselves on a Chai Tea while I wait for my next engagement to pick me up. I want to write. That internal compulsion that has always been inside me since I was 3 years old when bugged my mother to teach me the alphabet. I vaguely remember. What I can see in memory's vault is me spelling 'e' over and over again in cursive as I had witnessed my mother drawing it and asked her what she was doing. She showed me and I wrote pages of it, telling my mother I could write. What my mother tells me is I would look at books for long periods of time, ask her to show me how to write each letter. She said I was obsessed and annoyed the hell out her. She, of course, waited until I was older to inform me that I bugged the sh!t out of her. It was that one time when we actually were trying to bond. I never felt so proud and absolutely knew when she said "you bugged the sh!t out of me" she meant "I am proud and love you."
So, here I am at my local coffee shop, scribbling a quick note. I love this place. Its been a few moments since I've connected words and a page. But something tells me its brewing again. I read my friend Jim's page about Proposal 8, and I feel a rhythm in my head starting to beat regarding the matter. It's always hard for me to really put out there the experience of being gay. Overall, its pretty well recepted and to be honest, I rarely grudge a person for not understanding as I have had times of ignorance. I just want to treat others as I hope they would treat me. So, the moment someone is an ASS HOLE regarding my gayness, it usually turns into an attempt to educate and understand. With that said, I think its time for me to write my experience within the mainstreams of living regarding my queerhood.
I'm your mediocre lesbian. I try and live within the middle class american melodrama, and yet, I have had some crazy sh!t happen to me. I have been in the bowels of Alabama listening to a man discuss the atrocity of "negros and faggots" while polishing his gun, been at bars where men have informed me all I needed was a nice fuck by a dick, and even been asked to be the spokes person for my queer culture answering questions about whether the L-Word is authentically lesbian culture. That one makes me smile b/c my answer is always "Does Melrose place reflect your social spheres."
Oh sh!t, my ride just called me. She's on her way and this babble on the page must be done now.
How about now.
K now. :)