My completely arbitrary list of my favorite books that I read in 2006.

I figured since everybody else gets to make top 10 lists, I should too. I think I only bought about 3 records, and saw about 10 movies, so neither a music nor movie list would be adequate. However, what I did do was read a whole lot of books. All kinds of books, some for school, most for pleasure or for growth.

My following list does not encompass just books that were released in 2006, but just my favorite of what I read.

Drum roll please....

10. Lunar Park by Bret Easton Ellis - I can't help it: I'm a total sucker for everything this guy writes, no matter how awful or self-indulgent it is. His latest concerns an aging writer (himself; they even have the same names) trying to "settle down" and live right in suburbia, but there's only one problem: the violence, mayhem, chaos, and nihilism of his books are coming back to haunt him in physical form, taking the shape of a serial killer stalking the children of his neighborhood (including his own children), a drug habit he can't kick, a co-ed he's fucking, menacing neighbors, a bitter, ex-model wife, the ghost of a dead father who abandoned him, and a homicidal child's toy that will not die. Take it for what you will, it's either an exceptionally sincere reckoning of a middle-aged man trying to come to terms with what he's wrought on the world (most notably American Psycho), or it's just an uninspired, sensationalistic piece of nonsensical claptrap. I haven't really decided, but I reveled in every twisted moment of it.

9. Breakup by Catherine Texter - Out of the blue one day, Miss Texter's husband announced that he was having an affair and wanted to leave her. But...for some reason, he just refuses to move out the house they own and live in with their 2 daughters in Brooklyn. This heartwrenching memoir of a "perfect" marriage of two writers that was suddenly torn apart by buried resentments being revealed is hard to get through not only beacause it's extraordinarily painful, but because sometimes, I think maybe the writer reveals a bit too much. You have to give her props for laying her pain out on the page, but it just reads like an hysterical diary occasionally. Regardless, anyone who's ever continued to live with a lover for any amount of time after a breakup, or just had a particularly protracted breakup for whatever reason, will find much to relate to.

8. Smashed: Story of a Drunken Girlhood by Karen Zailckas - At the age of only 24, Zailckas penned this very sad, often shocking memoir of becoming a secret alcoholic at age 15, engaging in binge drinking in college, and building a life for herself in NYC after college. The drinking continues, often to the point of blacking out (every weekend) and now incorporating many sexual encounters that she often doesn't remember that get progressively more dangerous. One morning after waking up alone and locked in a man's apartment she didn't even remember going home with, she decides she's had enough. An engaging walk inside what I'm afraid is a fairly typical young girl's psyche. Brave, honest, and terrifying.

7. Five Men Who Broke My Heart by Susan Shapiro - A bittersweet journey down memory lane by the married Shapiro who was inspired by a visit from an old boyfriend one day to track down all the men that had broken her heart and try to figure out what really went wrong in each relationship. Needless to say, she gets way more than she bargains for: old wounds were opened, old hurts revisited, but it also provided closure in several instances, and ultimately, of course, made her realize the real treasure she has in her husband, and that no matter how painful and devastating each breakup was, it happened for a real reason, and got her to where she is today. Not terribly profound, but touching and inspiring. Not to give anything away, but one of the last paragraphs of the book touched me immensely and immediately brought tears to my eyes. On her birthday, Susan's husband, father, and three brothers surprise her with a brand-new laptop (she'd always been terrified of and confounded by technology, and still wrote with an old typewriter, well into the 90's), fully loaded with her own email account, and all the writing and editing programs she needed, set up and ready to go for her. About it she writes: I sat at the new screen, touched by the conspiracy of my husband, father and three brothers, five men who never broke my heart. (Just kicked it around a bit.) Stuck on what wasn't there, I'd always missed what was. For everything important, I was late.

6. What Becomes of the Brokenhearted by E. Lynn Harris - I've written about this book before, oh Loyal Readers, but since it's on the list, I need to write a bit. Another staggering memoir, this one about growing up gay, poor and black in Arkansas in the 60's. The author takes a familiar and agonizing journey through his own shame and resentment, desperately searching for someone to heal him, never realizing he can only heal himself. Awesome and courageous, I was inspired to email the writer after reading it, just to tell him how much I loved it and meant to me. to my surprise, within only a few hours, he replied back, telling me how perfect my email was, and how happy he was to hear from me. He's sweet. Well worth checking out.

5. Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth - Finally a good old-fashioned novel about perverted sex, rampant misogyny and self-loathing Jews with overbearing mothers. Hilarious, I couldn't put it down. For anyone who's ever dealt an internal battle with their own salacious desires, and having to come to terms with the fact that people are real and have feelings. I totally meant to read more Roth after this, but never got around to it. A masturbatory nightmare. In the best possible way.

4. The Velvet Rage: Overcoming the Pain of Growing up Gay in a Straight Man's World by Alan Downs, M.D. - I almost think this book should be required reading for every parent who worries about why their gay children are so fucked up, and blames it on the gay, as opposed to where the blame really belongs. I won't even get started because it's not important right now, and anyone reading this already knows, but this is a heartbreaking book. There are few things more important in life than having your feelings validated (thank you, also, therapy!) and this book certainly does that. I hope to one day write books this intelligent and kind.

3. Nightswimmer by Joseph Olshan - A straightforward but highly complex novel set in NYC in the early 90's about gay men trying to make a go of love and relationships in the specter of the tail-end of the worst part of the AIDS crisis. A book about all relationships, though, and how past loves can haunt us, and unresolved relationships can take up precious space in our hearts and lives; how the inability to let go of the ones that hurt us can plague our futures in both predictable and unexpected ways. Depressing for its insight, wisdom and love, it's a book that anyone who's ever loved and lost can relate to, especially if that Loss still crosses our minds and we wonder what might have been.

2. Eighty-Sixed by David Feinberg - Somehow my literature teacher from last semester gets away with assigning this book, but I don't know how, especially at a Catholic institution. Divided into two parts, Eighty-Sixed is a book about gay sex. Beginning in the early 80's in NYC, the first half is a flip and giddy tour through all the debauchery and sexual perversion you can imagine. Not a deed goes unexplored or unexplained from fisting to cum-guzzling. It's essentially pornography, all told with a tongue-in-cheek and very funny, detached style. But then there's the second half of the book where everyone gets AIDS and dies. I'm not kidding. It's almost more shocking than the first half for very different reasons, obviously, as the narrator and his friends and lovers have to suddenly come to very harsh terms with their previous lifestyles of careless fucking and detached, callous heartbreaking. It's a terrifying book, and one that makes me want to praise God every day that I wasn't around in NYC in the 80's. It's moving in an entirely unsentimental way, and when the narrator finally allows his heart to open and feel something, he confesses that he's never cried before because he was afraid that if he started, he'd never stop.

1. Name All the Animals by Alison Smith - A memoir that reads as breathlessly as a novel, Name All the Animals tells the story of the aftermath for a very conservative, religious family when their prized 18-year-old son dies suddenly in a horrible car accident. Told from the little sister's point-of-view, who was only 13 when her brother and best friend is snatched from her, the book is a grown woman coming to terms with something she had absolutely no way to cope with as a child. She admires her parents' resilience and adherence to their faith, but the author explains how only days after her brother's death, she literally watches Jesus walk out the bathroom door and out of her life for good. She attends an all-girls Catholic school, and eventually, through a forbidden and all-consuming relationship, learns to transcend her pain, confusion and sense of abandonment. So wise, tense, thorough, and moving. This is one of those books that's so smart and so engaging, that you just want to buy copies for everyone you know, but realize how much it would break your heart that no one would ever actually read it. And it's too bad. There is much to be gained from this gem of a literary masterpiece.

And that's my list. Thanks for reading, and thank you to the writers for writing and sharing. I love you all.

(UPDATE: D'oh! I can't believe I forgot My Dark Places by James Ellroy. The famous, and infamous, crime writer traces back his interest in crime to the brutal, and currently unsolved, murder of his mother when he was 11. He turned to crime fiction as escapism, and met the Black Dahlia (in literature) and used her as a surrogate for his poor mother. It's a dark, as the title promises, and grievous coming to terms with some real fucking loss and heartache. As an adult, he goes back to L.A. and tries to hunt down his mother's killer himself. Fascinating, relentless and brutal, it's a book not only about Ellroy's personal obsessions, but a catalog of his stunning breadth of the city of Los Angeles' sordid history of gruesome and bloody crimes of passion. This would definitely be in the top 5 of my list somewhere.)

My new favorite show

Is Million Dollar Listing on Bravo. It's a reality show all about the real estate business in Hollywood and Malibu and it's fascinating.

I love all the crazy buyers and sellers, and the human drama involved in so much of it, like the couple selling because they're getting divorced, and they're both devastated about it, or the gay guys that are about to adopt, like, 20 kids, and need a new, fun kid-friendly house. Or the real estate agent who's trying to sell her ex-boyfriend's house for him, when she's clearly still in love with him.

I love how people spend 20 years personalizing their homes, and then decide to sell and have to spend $15,000 remodeling to make it look more "normal," but that allows them to up the asking price by $100,000. Or how a bigger backyard on the house in Beverly Hills could have upped the asking price by a million dollars. On the episode now, there's a guy leasing his Malibu pad for $30,000 a month, and the agent really wants him to sell the house, because he would make an almost $200,000 commission on it, but the owner is really emotionally attached to the house, even though he doesn't even live there.

It's a really interesting look into this totally crazy world that is so far removed from my life that it may as well be taking place on another planet. I love it.

I wonder how many right-wing heads will explode over this!

Apparently, Mary Cheney is pregnant! She and her girlfriend of 15 years are expecting next summer, and Daddy and Mommy Cheney seem to be very excited.

I love Americablog's take:
And get this. They live in Virginia, where a new state constitutional amendment pretty much guarantees that Mary's baby is screwed.

In November, Virginia voters passed a state constitutional amendment banning gay marriage and civil unions; state law is unclear on whether Poe could have full legal rights as a parent of Cheney's child. The circumstances of the pregnancy will remain private, said the source close to the couple. This is the first child for both.

Oh, but Virginia law was already far worse than that. Virginia had already set up new Jim Crow laws targeting gays two years ago. Those laws may vitiate any legal agreement between the two, period, about anything. The law ensures that Mary's partner has no legal rights whatsoever in their child, or in what happens to Mary (or vice versa), such as if one partner has to go the hospital, the other can't visit. The law may even nullify any wills that Mary and Heather write regarding each other, and it may make it impossible for gay people to go to court to resolve any difference about anything - the courts can't recognize gay unions, so they can't make any decisions that would imply recognition (custody, hospital visitation, wills, etc.) It's beyond ironic that Virginia's new law, one of the most hateful, bigoted laws on the books, is now targeting the vice president's own daughter and soon-to-be new grandchild.

It's all so delicious. Except for some reason this makes me hate her even more.


(UPDATE: I really like Andrew Sullivan's reaction: There is surely coming a point at which the sheer dissonance between what the GOP base believes and the way even the most conservative vice-president in modern times deals with the reality of his own family must surely prompt some kind of Republican adjustment.

You cannot be a party that sees gay love, marriage and parenthood as the work of Satan and have a vice-presidential family that is busy building a lesbian family as an integral part of it. For my part, congratulations to the two moms and best wishes for a healthy, safe pregnancy and birth. And congrats to the lucky grandparents on both sides. Commiserations to James Dobson, Hugh Hewitt, George Allen, Rick Santorum, Sam Brownback, Mitt Romney, and, of course, George W. Bush, who backed a federal constitutional amendment to strip the daughter of his vice-president of dignity, family and civil rights.)

N v. N

If anyone's interested, here is my research paper for my Child Development class. I think it's pretty good.

As Nature Made Them?
The Controversy Over Intersexed Individuals
The term “intersex,” as defined in Stedman’s Medical Dictionary and in the Compact Oxford English Dictionary is “one having characteristics of both sexes,” but unfortunately makes no distinction as to what those “characteristics” are (Blizzard, 2002). For the purposes of this analysis, I will go with the most universal and understood application, which is the more specific definition denoting the presence of genital/reproductive structures of both genders, otherwise known as genital ambiguity.
As unique as it might sound, intersexuality affects approximately 1 in 1500 children born in the United States (Lev, 2006). What makes it controversial is that it cuts to the very heart of the decades-old debate over nature versus nurture. Is genitalia, for instance, the only factor that determines a person’s gender? Or is psychosexual identity something that’s learned over time? Do doctors and parents have the right to determine a baby’s gender identity if it is in question, or should the decision-making process be left up to the child, to decide at an older age, when they are capable of making an informed decision about how they want to live?
Back in the 1950’s, the Johns Hopkins research team led by John Money believed that a child’s gender identity could develop as either male or female, regardless of the sex, as long as the gender rearing was in the same direction as the sex assignment (Lev, 2006). But this raises the question of what determines sex assignment in the first place, and how accurately is it applied. Generally, on a newborn infant with ambiguous genitalia, a precise diagnosis is achieved by combining the results of an extensive physical examination and laboratory evaluation. This includes determining the location of the gonads, the “adequacy” of the phallus, and the size and location of a vaginal orifice, if present (Newman, Randolph, and Anderson, 1991). Regardless of the genotype, most children with this condition are believed to be best suited for the female role. The crucial determinant in assigning a male gender is the size of the phallus and whether or not it is “adequate” to support a male sex assignment. Experience has shown that intersexed adults with the most maladjustment in life have been those patients raised as males in the hope that the penis will grow at the pubertal stage to a more “normal” size, but which it ultimately doesn’t. They essentially become men going through life not with a penis so much as a somewhat larger than average clitoris (Newman, Randolph, and Anderson, 1991). Nevertheless, current endocrinology textbooks continue to include phallus size among the important considerations in assigning gender to an ambiguous newborn (Phornphutkul, Fausto-Sterling, and Gruppuso, 1999). All of this continues to beg the question of whether assigning a gender is even the correct thing to do.
Surgically “correcting” ambiguous genitalia based on the sex assignment assessed by pediatric endocrinologists is the current routine and has been the recommended protocol endorsed by the American Pediatric Association for the past 30 years (Lev, 2006). But recent studies have started to show that this may not be the best avenue. The current routine is based on the idea that normalized genitals will lead to normalized psychological and sexual development, but this is far from proven (Lev, 2006). There is very little counseling support for either the parents or the child in these conditions, and deception, lies and secrecy are a typical mode of behavior. Secrecy and silence in a family, however, usually have traumatic effects on children whose memories are often denied, whose questions are typically avoided, and who have been lied to. They suffer from feelings of humiliation and betrayal, especially toward their parents, but also to members of the medical and helping professions, thus preventing them from seeking further help or treatment (Liao, 2003, and Walcutt, 1995, as cited in Lev, 2006).
The standard protocols of determining and assigning a gender, then raising the child as such, are slowly beginning to fall away, largely due to protest by intersexed persons themselves and by longitudinal studies now being performed by the medical community to determine the self-rated quality of life by adult interesexed persons. In 1993, a concerned group of intersexed adults disappointed by their gender assignments as infants by doctors and parents, formed the Intersex Society of North America (ISNA). They have been influential in drawing the attention of the medical community to the fact that the traditional approach to diagnosing and treating intersexed patients needs to be reexamined (Blizzard, 2002). Much focus is now on destigmatization of the conditions and promoting an open and honest dialogue, not only between the parents and the health care professionals, but also between the parents and the child (Diamond and Sigmundson, 1997).
The standard, or traditional, approach, based on John Money’s earlier model, hypothesized that nurture influences far outweighed nature influences, and it was based on two criteria: that the gender needed to be established early (no later than 18 months), and the external genitalia must be compatible with the sex of rearing (Blizzard, 2002). However, 50 years later, science has learned that imprinting of the brain by testosterone and/or other androgens (steroid hormones that stimulate or control the development and maintenance of masculine characteristics) occurs to a greater extent than previously believed (particularly by Money). This has been evidenced in large part by the disproportionate number of intersex males raised as females, but whose etiology was not complete androgen insensitivity, elected to reassign themselves as males when they reached adolescence or adulthood (Blizzard, 2002).
In the United States, intersex is a recognized medical condition, but not a recognized societal designation. Regardless, the pediatric researchers Diamond and Sigmundson recommend that no surgeries be done for purely cosmetic purposes, though this is difficult to explain to parents who just want a “normal” child. Surgery as infants can drastically affect post pubertal sensitivity and function of the genitalia. They recommend a moratorium on any such gender “assignment” surgeries until at least adolescence, when the patient is able to give a truly informed consent (Diamond and Sigmundson, 1997). In addition to this, they suggest ongoing counseling, peer support, and consistency by the parents, in whatever role they choose to assign to the child, regardless of the appearance of genitalia, but it’s imperative that a gender be chosen, as opposed to raising the child as a “neuter” (Diamond and Sigmundson, 1997). There is the fear, however, that designating a gender without altering the genitals to match only reinforces stereotypes and makes the normative developmental processes that much more challenging for children and adolescents. Too many parents become too preoccupied with ensuring that their children stay within the “correct” gender guidelines of their designation, and it leaves little room for the child to explore options related to their gender identity and sexual orientation (Lev, 2006).
Due to its heavy ethical and practical complications, the study of gender assignment has been dubious and more hypothetical than actual (Lev, 2006). Although John Money vigorously counseled against sex reassignment after toddler age, due to the brain being (in his belief) highly malleable at birth in terms of gender identity, very little progress has actually been made in recent years in regards to understanding what determines gender identity. Gender identity is a highly complex biological and psychological process, and the relationship between prenatal biological processes and postnatal psychological influences is still under serious review. Very little long-term clinical data currently exists to help facilitate the understanding of the relative importance of prenatal and postnatal influences (Phornphutkul, Fausto-Sterling, and Gruppuso, 1999).
The study of, and treatment methods for, intersex children are highly contentious subjects. It is not always clear that everyone involved wants what’s best for the intersex individual, as gender politics and future reputations of the doctors play a large role. In most cases, genital “correction” is performed for purely aesthetic purposes, even though the physical health of the child is rarely, if ever, at risk. Future fertility potential for women, and the means to try to steer the direction of sexual desire in a concretely heterosexual direction (as one of the main fears cited by parents of intersex infants is that they will grow up to be gay) are two of the largest factors in determining the current protocols (Holmes, 1995, as cited in Lev, 2006).
The jury is still out on what is the best avenue of treatment, but as more and more longitudinal studies are being performed on intersexed individuals, a common consensus is growing that surgery to infants is not only a bad idea physically, but more importantly, grossly disrupts and upsets the normal psychological development of children and adolescents.
It is highly unlikely that all operations on ambiguous genitalia will cease, as most doctors, and parents, quite adamantly want to “normalize” their child and move on, probably even foregoing much counseling once it seems everything will be “fine.” But the fact that 24% of intersexed adults eventually reverse their gender isn’t a fact that can, or should, be easily ignored (Preves, 2003, cited in Lev, 2006).
Rather than help solve the nature versus nurture argument, this topic seems to more acutely exacerbate the arguments both for and against both nature and nurture. One would be hard-pressed to concretely state, based on the overwhelming evidence, that simply having the genitals of one gender or another makes you that gender. All factors of conditioning and biology come into play, but ultimately, one has to ask what, exactly, a gender identity is, and if that is determined by biology (that is, the physical self), conditioning, or some combination of the two.
It is my hope that in the near future, as intersexuality begins to come out of the closet, so to speak, that it is a topic more people will be more comfortable speaking about. Just in the last few years, it has practically become a cultural phenomenon: numerous articles have been written on the subject in major publications such as The New York Times; a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel has been written about the subject (Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides), and numerous intersexed and transgendered characters are popping up all over the large and small screen in movies like The Crying Game, The Adventures of Sebastian Cole, and Transamerica, alongside top-rated television shows like Nip/Tuck. These presentations might seem trivial or sensationalistic, but any way of getting them into the public consciousness will eventually reduce the fear and stigma attached, and hopefully eventually turn into more mature and sympathetic presentations.

William wants to die

Yesterday at work I was flipping through The Economist (don't ask me why I was reading The Economist; it's a long story) and came across a very brief article about the passing of the author William Styron on November 1st. Part of the article talked about his notorious writer's block he suffered after he quit drinking in the 80's. Apparently at one point he wanted to kill himself but had so much difficulty composing what he felt was an adequate, and eloquent, enough suicide note, that he decided not to kill himself.

Which, for some reason, I think is one of the coolest things I've ever heard. I can't wait to read his books now.

Look both ways before crossing

I have never raised a child. I've never had a child. I've never come close to raising a child, or ever had the opportunity to do so. I've barely even ever had contact with children in my 30 years of life. In fact, my feelings about ever actually raising children are tremendously ambivalent. However, if there is one thing that gets my blood fucking boiling, it's the spouting off by pompous, arrogant, idiotic conservative asshats who think they know what's right for everybody about how best to raise children in this country.

What I'm referring to specifically is this idiotic piece of garbage, written by one Patrick Fagan. For some reason or other I cannot comprehend, Tractorfacts wrote a post about it last night, albeit arguing against its main points, but nevertheless, I was inspired to respond.

I made a lot of assumptions about Mr. Fagan based on this article, and a simple Google search proved me mostly right. First off, the article was published in the National Review, and Fagan works for the ultra-conservative think tank The Heritage Foundation, which is really just a terribly biased lobbying group for the ultra-right.

The gist of Fagan's article is that he argues that "Europe is dying because they don't love babies enough" (oh my god....) and that if America isn't careful, that could happen to us, because, according to Fagan's statistics, approximately 36% of all American children are born out of wedlock, and regardless of any circustances, that's bad and will lead to an eventual complete breakdown of society. And that's very, very bad. He argues that it builds a "culture of rejection and isolation from each other," and goes on to blame the churches, the media and the educational system for this heinous trend, all because they've made sex out to be something that can be done recreationally, as opposed for the sole purpose of procreating in a committed marriage between two heterosexual people. He blames the Supreme Court for legitimizing (i.e., decriminalizing) sexual practices between 2 consenting adults that don't lead to babies (i.e., the homos next door sodomizing each other into oblivion).

Predictably, and just as I suspected, Mr. Fagan is very anti same-sex marriage as well. Through some irrelevant and arbitrary statistics comparing the United States to the Netherlands, he tries his damnedest to blame the fags for the "recent public policy...that has facilitated the erosion of the family" in Europe because some countries there let the gays marry. It seems to me that facilitating any kind of monogamy and committment, whether it's between gays or straights would be good for everybody involved, but I realize I'm preaching to the choir here, and also anyone with half a fucking brain cell knows that as well.

But that's not even what really gets up my ire. And I'll give you an example of what really does: two men named Roger and Steven.

Roger and Steven are a long-term, committed, and one presumes monogomous, gay couple that used to live in the culturally rich and exciting city of Miami, Florida. They are both very successful in their chosen professions (one's a doctor, and the other a lawyer, I believe) and had money, time and energy to burn. So they decided they wanted a child. After much debating and exploring options, they decided to participate in Florida's foster child program, because for the Big, Bad Gays, adopting children in Florida is illegal (one of only three states, actually, that has laws expressely banning adoption by homos; the other two are Mississippi and Utah. Surprised?). They chose a 5-year-old black boy with HIV to take in.

Now think about that for a minute if you will. Two upper-class, wealthy, educated, committed men happily and lovingly taking in a 5-year-old black boy with HIV, to not only raise and provide for medically, but to provide a stable, loving home. Do you think anyone else would take in a 5-year-old black boy with HIV? Maybe for the monthly check, but even then, I seriously doubt it.

Turns out, Roger and Steven loved this boy so much, they wanted another. And another. And another. And another. Until they had 5 (FIVE!!) foster children, all unwanted, unadoptable, and all with HIV. They formed a family. The children all essentially became brothers and sisters, relying on one another for fun, for emotional support, for physical support, and Roger and Steven their unwavering fathers, basking them with love, opportunity, and top-notch medical care.

There was one problem, however. No matter how close they became, or how long the children lived with Roger and Steven, their relationships would always be tenuous, because since Roger and Steven are gay, they can't legally adopt these children in Florida, and technically, the state can come and take them away anytime they want to.

Which is precisely what happened.

Almost.

When it was discovered that Bert, a 13-year-old boy they'd taken in when he was only an infant, had initially been diagnosed incorrectly, and did not, in fact, have HIV, the state authorities of Florida, with the full backing of Governor Jeb Bush, decided that what would now be best for Bert would be to remove him from these two unsuitable gay men, and throw him into the foster system. As a 13-year-old black boy in Miami. After he'd been living with Roger and Steven his entire life. Oh, and while the state was at it, they might as well take the other kids as well, since clearly being back in the system, or with a straight couple, would be far superior to being brought up in this home of love and privilege, since it's headed by two gay men.

Roger and Steven fought the system, tried to officially adopt the children, and lost. Even a personal appeal to Jeb Bush did no good (because, well, he thinks that children belong with a mom and a dad. Sorry Roger and Stephen, but you just don't cut it). So in a final act of desperation, Roger and Stephen left their entire lives in Miami, and moved their family to Portland, Oregon where they had some friends. I'm not sure what all the legalities involved were, but somehow, in Oregon, the men managed to certifiably adopt all 5 children, and start their lives over, keeping their family intact.

So what I would like to know, Mr. Patrick Fagan, in the face of stories like these, how you can possibly look in the mirror, or sleep at night, or write your ignorant, hateful columns, holding the opinions that you hold, and claiming to care so much about the youth of America. How can you say that these people aren't a family, and where was the outcry when the state of Florida wanted to take away these essentially unadoptable children from the only family they'd ever known? Call me cynical, but methinks you care more about your agenda than you actually do about families. Which leads me to wonder what your ultimate goal is, if you claim to care so much about families, but then turn around and advocate destroying them. So which is it, Fagan? Are you in favor of families and children being raised by loving parents, or no? You can't have it both ways.

Roger, Stephen and their family. Check out the docmentary, "We Are Dad" about them. It's devastating, but totally inspiring.

Misguided revenge can be so sweet, but really it seems like a whole lot of homos trying desperately to "pass" to try to make themselves feel better

Nevertheless, I kind of want to do it.

You know, just to see if I could pass.

Don't laugh. I'll have you know that 2 weeks ago, I was out with 2 straight girls, 3 gay guys, and at a gay bar, and one of the girls who didn't know me was totally hitting on me, then asked if I was straight. She was surprised (and disappointed!!) when I said no. Go figure. (And I might have considered at least making out with her if she hadn't been so fucking annoying.) Then the other gay dudes agreed that I was the "straightest" of the bunch. Except when I laughed. My laugh, apparently, is really gay.

You know, a few years ago I would have appreciated being able to "pass," even among my fellow fags, but now it just feels like I'm doing something wrong.

"You can keep driving all night if you want to, but I live right there."

What I said to the 21-year-old from work, when he was taking me home last night and missed the turn-off from Lamar. I asked him for a ride for no other reason than that we were leaving at the same time. I didn't need a ride; I walk to and from work every single day. I told him I was extra tired and didn't feel like walking.

I ribbed him for driving a big ole pick-em-up truck. "Well it's not...that big," he said. I told him I had imagined him driving a beat up old 4-door sedan. I like how I'm in second grade, and when I have a crush on someone and don't know how to relate to them, I just make fun of them, about needing a haircut, or the big truck they drive.

Last night I tried to find ways of justifying dating someone almost an entire decade younger than me, which would not only be depressing, but also kind of embarassing. Even if he is beautiful. And a co-worker. And sexually ambiguous.

I found out his last name, but he's not on MySpace. He is on Facebook, but his profile's locked unless you're one of his "friends." Damn it. I hate people who like their privacy.

Finally, some intelligent introspection from the religious community

Baptist Minister Oliver "Buzz" Thomas has a really inspiring opinion piece on Yahoo today about religion slowly losing its credibility over the issue of homosexuality. He basically argues that it's becoming more and more apparent that homosexuality is a born trait, and therefore, releases the homosexual of any moral culpability. While I do take issue with the fact that religious people feel like they have to somehow explain homosexuality, as opposed to just accepting it as just one more option for living, it's an encouraging sign.

He begins by comparing it to Galileo proving that the sun is, in fact, the center of the universe, and not the earth, and how much damage that did to the religious community. He also takes the passage from Leviticus (you know, the one about men lying with men, and women with women...abomination...blah blah blah) and basically says, well, if you use this passage, then you have to take them all: being put to death for working on the Sabbath, not touching pig skin (no more football, folks), not going to church if you're menstruating, being put to death for sassing your parents, and on and on. He then goes on to further dissect Paul's argument in the New Testament, saying that Paul was only referring to the commmon practice of older men taking in younger boys as apprentices, and basically making sexual slaves of them. My favorite paragraph of the article:

For those who have lingering doubts, dust off your Bibles and take a few hours to reacquaint yourself with the teachings of Jesus. You won't find a single reference to homosexuality. There are teachings on money, lust, revenge, divorce, fasting and a thousand other subjects, but there is nothing on homosexuality. Strange, don't you think, if being gay were such a moral threat?

On the other hand, Jesus spent a lot of time talking about how we should treat others. First, he made clear it is not our role to judge. It is God's. ("Judge not lest you be judged." Matthew 7:1) And, second, he commanded us to love other people as we love ourselves.

Just what I've always said. One can only hope it happens sooner rather than later. Anyway, it's an interesting read.

He totally hearts the gays.

I love him so much it just turns to hate*

I can't help it: I'm completely obsessed with Courtney Love. I want her new book. I thumbed through it at BookPeople the other day, and it's almost nothing but pictures we've all seen a thousand times, and some incoherent ramblings about wanting to be famous and some random song lyrics. But I love looking at her. I could stare at pictures of Courtney all day. I'm especially fond, of course, of her early, dirty, grunged-out (strung out), slutty pictures. The pictures where she seemed desperately to be trying to say something and be relevant. (I think she's pretty much given up being relevant these days). But I really like the "glam" stage, too, when she was cleaned-up, surgeried, maked-up, with perfect highlights and perky boobs. Both eras hold their appeal to me for very different reasons.

My relationship with Courtney Love is like that really great first relationship you have when you're young, when you're still doscovering yourself, and they're basically a very bad influence on you, and eventually you realize that, and distance yourself, but for the rest of your life, you never forget about how that person made you feel, and what you learned about yourself from them. And the hand they had in shaping who you ultimately became, and of which you're proud (for the most part). We were inseperable. I loved her anger, her passion, her desperation to belong and to be respected, and yet her willingness to give the finger to anyone and everyone who didn't respect her or take her seriously when she just was who she was. Today I question what she really was, or what her ultimate goals were, and if pressed, she probably couldn't provide an honest answer, either, but that misses the point.

As pathetic as it might sound, as a sheltered, God-fearing, church-going, completely repressed homosexual growing up in the reddest and most conservative area of one of the reddest and most conservative states in the country, Courtney Love introduced me to Rebellion and punk rock. And it was the freshest, deepest breath I'd ever taken in my life. Struggling with my sexuality (which was getting harder and harder to ignore), and recognizing that I was starting to actually have real feelings for the boys around me, and being completely freaked out about that, one night seeing the video for "Doll Parts" on 120 Minutes literally changed my life. It was the first time I can ever remember hearing a song that I felt like I could 100% relate to, without having to switch the gender of the lyrics or the gender of the singer. I know Courtney was referring to something else in those lyrics, but hearing "they really want you, they really want you, they really do, but I do too," I immediately applied them to my life and my increasing feelings of despair and loneliness. In this awkward, sad, angry, ugly, misfit woman, I had found my hero. I was totally indifferent to Nirvana, and Morrissey had never uttered a single lyric that meant anything to me (at least not yet!), but here, this was it. As cliched as it is, this woman spoke to me.

I got Live Through This for Christmas that year, and it didn't leave my CD player for weeks at a time. Even today, I still love that record, and can't pop it in without wanting to listen to the whole thing all the way through. My mother, I think, sort of regrettably asked me what I heard in that music that I liked (and don't think she wasn't noticing my drastic shifts in behavior, such as starting to skip church and dumping my old friends for new ones who were, let's say, less clean) but how on earth could I explain it to her? I don't think I could explain it to her now, and that was 12 years ago!

Courtney Love was also the first woman who ever got me thinking about feminism, patriarchy, and the role of the underdog (women) in society, and the importance of honing your intellectual skills for fighting and rebellion. She laid the groundwork for my proceeding love of Bikini Kill, and Kathleen Hanna, who, for the first time, got me to thinking about the link between women's sexuality and homosexuality. How the way that society looks at homosexuality is indicitive of the way it views the feminine in general, and women's sexuality and gay men's sexuality have everything in common in terms of being maligned, repressed and feared by the straight, white, bigoted male patriarchy. This was an absolutely novel fucking concept to me when I was 19, and changed the way I looked at, and thought about, everything. The in-your-face, no-holds-barred sexuality of both Courtney Love and Bikini Kill (though with BK, it was a bit more theatrical and overtly political than in Courtney's case, who, I think, was just kind of a slut) that made so many straight men I know dislike them, served an absolute purpose to me: it gave me the strength to put my own sexuality in the forefront of who I was, and fucking own it.

Oddly enough, I never really got into too many "queercore" bands, per se, like Pansy Division, because I think I viewed them as being too cutesy, or, ironically, too gay. I now very much appreciate their glorification of, and bluntness about, things like kissing other boys and anal sex, but at the time, I didn't need some other gay man to tell me that it was okay to enjoy getting fucked up the ass; I needed someone to tell me that it was okay to make it political, to put my rage in people's faces (not my orgasmic joy), and that, in fact, the personal was the political, and how you lived your life mattered in the bigger picture. This was so empowering to someone who felt so ashamed of who they were (me), and whose internalized rage, resentment and homophobia was already threatening to destroy them at the ripe old age of 18.

Eventually, of course, I got through this stage, and while I can still enjoy Bikini Kill for their nostalgic value, and Courtney for her entertainment value, I've mostly moved beyond these feelings, or had them mature into a more enduring and healthy expression of love, activism and education. But it was such a necessary exorcism of my early demons (as I suspect punk rock is to most kids who get into it at a young age), and a crucial step to go through to figure out how my anger affects me, and how I can use that anger to a righteous and productive cause. It's something I'm still working on, but I think I'm almost there, and besides, the journey never really stops. Live through this with me, and I swear that I will die for you.




*still one of my all-time favorite song lyrics

The finer points of Swing Out Sister

Saturday night, while we were all three drunk, Jody, Travis and I began discussing the frequency, and content, of our history of sexual dreams (and no one In the Know needs to enlighten me on the extreme irony of this anomaly of an event), and I mentioned that I'd only really ever had two sexual dreams in my whole life, and neither of them were even that overtly sexual, they were just sort of erotic. Travis already knew this about me, but I told Jody about them, and how the first I'd ever had was about George Michael in the 7th or 8th grade, at the height of my obsession with him, and how at night I would pretend to make out with his poster hanging above my bed (if my poor parents only knew; and to this day, I still think aviator sunglasses are one of the hottest things going). But I digress. I explained that in the dream I'd had about George Michael, I didn't even actually get to have sex with him, it was all post-sex, and we were lying together all sweaty and spent (probably because at the time of the dream, I had no idea how to really have gay sex).

So I've always been a little frustrated and a lot jealous when people have told me about how they have these hardcore, really explicit sex dreams about people, and especially about real people that they're actually attracted to! How cool is that?

But then last night, completely arbitrarily (or so it would seem) I was finally visited by the God of Hardcore Sex Dreams. And how! Me and Mr. did everything it was possible to do with two bodies, and then some, and it was fucking amazing. But there was one strange hitch: it was with a fictional character that I don't even find attractive, and whose personality (as presented through his character on television) I find totally repugnant. It was this guy:



who, while not being unattractive, does nothing for me, once more making me realize I am truly turned on and attracted to things I either find disgusting or are really bad for me. (Or maybe it's just further confirming my Doctor fetish. Which goes right along with my Professor fetish. And my cute and dorky Scientist fetish. Oh, wait; maybe it's just a man fetish!) But nevertheless, I was grateful to finally realize and understand what I'd been missing all these years. Only, well, I hate to sound ungrateful, but there's one more major drawback: I've been hornier all day today than I think I've been since I was about 15.

J-Date Update

They prefer that you actually be Jewish, but there's an option to say either "Unaffiliated" or "Willing to Convert" (mmm.... not so much).

They didn't answer my question about whether or not they cater to mo's. I'll take that as a negative.
Hot Jerusalem Mo Pride

Shut up & Direct

I hope you'll forgive my posting twice in one day, but I woke up this morning with a burning need to post about this today, then got sidetracked, and very excited, about the rat story, so that took precedence. But here I am back with my original intentions, which is all about the Dixie Chicks, or more specifically, the Dixie Chicks' movie's director, Barbara Kopple.

I loved Shut up and Sing. Thought it was fantastic, uplifting, totally riveting and dramatic. Great storytelling. But lately there have been some things about the director that have been bugging me, namely her blatant idol worship of Natalie Maines that's actually beginning to affect my opinion of this fine piece of cinema a bit.

The first is an interview I read with her recently that I can't find, so feel free to take my word for this or not, where she says that after Natalie made her infamous statement in London about being "ashamed" of the President, she really "stood alone."

Well, only if you don't count half of the American public, and pretty much the rest of the entire world that agreed with her about the war.

I remember those days leading up to the invasion of Iraq, and it was insane. Tensions and emotions were running incredibly high, but come on, alone? Maybe she was ostracized by the country music world (although Faith Hill and Tim McGraw, two of the most famous and popular country singers that exist are both outspoken democrats, and have publically voiced their disatisfaction with the war and President Bush numerous times, but no such fallout has struck them, strangely), but that's pretty much it. I can also certainly sympathize with the CD burnings, the boycotts, and especially the death threats, how terrifying all of that must have been. It's astonishing how blown out of proportion that statment was by the country music world and the media; it's absolutely absurd. What she said wasn't even that rude; I mean, she didn't attack Bush's character, or use profanity. It's just crazy.

Okay, so that's negligible, really, as an isolated statement. Not that big of a deal. But in a brief write-up in the latest issue of Rolling Stone about Shut Up & Sing, again, the director is quoted as saying, "In a way, Natalie was the first casualty of the Iraq war."

WHAT??!!???!

Has she lost her fucking mind??? Is she honestly comparing a bad PR incident with a pampered rock star to what the soldiers dying in Iraq are doing? I mean, seriously? I hope to God that I just misinterpreted that statement. It almost turns my stomach, I find it so offensive. And stupid.

What happened to Natalie Maines was unfortunate, and at times insanely harshly judged (and made for a great fucking movie), but let's retain a little perspective here. She's not in Iraq fighting a war, nor is she in any way a "casualty." Christ.
The director, Kopple, in front of Iraq's first three casualties.

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage

In my Social Psychology class this week we've been talking about aggression in humans, and being a social psych class, we've been looking at societal causes, cues, ramifications, all that.

Today we talked about a social psychologist, in the 60's, I believe who did an experiment on rats to study aggression in their societies and see if there were any useful parallels to human society.

People don't typically know that rats have very structured norms of behavior and have little miniature socieities. For instance, if a female rat is interested in mating with a male rat, she wiggles her ears at him, and that's his cue to respond. Typically the male rats honor this code, and if a female doesn't wiggle her ears, he leaves her alone. They also have hierarchical social structures (I guess like bees and aunts).

So this guy, John Calhoun, decides he's going to get a bunch of rats and build an enormous cage, about the size of a small house, and completely manipulate their environment so that everything is ideal, and just stand back and watch what happens. The results weren't pretty.

First off, since they were in a cage, they were totally safe from predators; no worry about them. It was climate-controlled. There was never a lack of food or water. They had everything that happy little rats could possibly want.

It started out nice enough. They ran around and did their thing, and ate and drank and slept. And bred. And bred. And bred. All they did was breed, until the cage became full of rats. And that's when the fun started, and all the rules of their societies began breaking down.

Disease ran rampant.

Male rats started becoming very aggressive toward female rats, and believe it or not, started engaging in gang rapes of females. Sometimes to the point of death for the female. Think about that for a minute.

There started being a sub-group of very anti-social rats called "floater rats," who spent all of their time alone (very unusual for social rats), usually sleeping, and only came out to eat at night when most of the other rats were sleeping. As a consequence, they were very lethargic and became extremely obese and starting dying off.

Maternal instincts broke down, and mommy rats began abandoning their baby rats, some of which were products of rape by the male rats, and the rat infant mortality rate became very high. And those baby rats that were abandoned and lived usually became very anti-social and aggressive toward the other rats as well.

In other words, the crowding, the (eventually) unsanitary conditions, and the lack of any real predators (aside from the rats themselves) led to a complete breakdown in the rat society that eventually devolved into complete chaos.

Take from this what you will.

Hmmm

Do you think you have to be a real Jew to become a member of J-Date? Jewish boys are so cute.

Whoa

Dudes, check out this picture of Rick Santorum's family. Are they for real?
What a weirdo!

Things just keep getting better!

- The Democrats took both the House and the Senate.

- Rumsfeld was fired!!!!

- Arizona was the first state to vote down a hateful, discriminatory same-sex marriage
ban, which would have also included civil unions and domestic partnership benefits.

- South Dakota voted down an abortion ban!!

- And now.....drum roll please......Rush Limbaugh admits he's a liar and a scumbag and the Republicans' bitch!

Now, I mentioned to you at the conclusion of the previous hour that people have been asking me how I feel all night long. I got, "Boy, Rush, I wouldn't want to be you tomorrow! Boy, I wouldn't want to have to do your show! Oh-ho. I'm so glad I'm not you." Well, folks, I love being me. (I can't be anybody else, so I'm stuck with it.) The way I feel is this: I feel liberated, and I'm going to tell you as plainly as I can why. I no longer am going to have to carry the water for people who I don't think deserve having their water carried. Now, you might say, "Well, why have you been doing it?" Because the stakes are high. Even though the Republican Party let us down, to me they represent a far better future for my beliefs and therefore the country's than the Democrat Party and liberalism does.

I believe my side is worthy of victory, and I believe it's much easier to reform things that are going wrong on my side from a position of strength. Now I'm liberated from having to constantly come in here every day and try to buck up a bunch of people who don't deserve it, to try to carry the water and make excuses for people who don't deserve it. I did not want to sit here and participate, willingly, in the victory of the libs, in the victory of the Democrat Party by sabotaging my own. But now with what has happened yesterday and today, it is an entirely liberating thing. If those in our party who are going to carry the day in the future -- both in Congress and the administration -- are going to choose a different path than what most of us believe, then that's liberating. I don't say this with any animosity about anybody, and I don't mean to make this too personal.

There must be a LOT of people so perplexed and scratching their heads right now. I feel like this country got turned upside down over night. And it feels wonderful.

Sorry

I have been reprimanded for not including some kind of WARNING on my previous post to readers that perhaps it contains graphic images NSFW. Since they were stock, B&W, and not pornographic, I figured it would be okay, but I realize now that that was insensitive of me (though I did consider a warning before I published the post since I know most people read this useless thing while they're at work; I mean, why would anyone sit at home and read it?).

So, sorry dudes. And if you haven't yet read the preceding post, and you're at work, you might tread carefully. Medical photos of hermaphroditic genitalia abound.

I'm thinking of turning this blog into nothing but a medical anomalies/abnormalities site, with lots of graphic pictures. What would ya'll think of that???

The Surgical Management of Infants and Children with Ambiguous Genitalia

Or, Intersex, defined in Stedman's Medical Dictionary and in the Compact Oxford English Dictionary as "one having the characteristics of both sexes." Unfortunately, the characteristics are not defined in any way.

For the sake of simplicity, however, for my research project for my Child Development class, I am defining it as those infants born with either aspects of both genitals, or ambiguous genitals, meaning hypospadias (an abnormality of the penis in which the urethra opens on the underside), congenital adrenal hyperplasia (C.A.H.), developmental problems of the external genitalia, virilized females, undervirilzed males, and patients with gonadal tissue of both sexes. Micropenis.


What my paper is really going to deal with, though, are less of the medical ideas, and what the psychological ramifications are. Should children's parents and doctors determine their gender as soon as they're born, which has been the case for decades. Whatever it's "closest" to is what the kid becomes.
How a micropenis becomes a clitoris.

The problems with this are too in-depth to go into on this here little blog, but the argument rages on. One of the main arguments is, if the parents and doctor don't choose the gender, how do you effectively raise an intersex child? Is that more or less damaging than "choosing" a gender for them, and then have a 50/50 chance of them actually being the opposite gender of what's been chosen for them? There are few things more heartbreaking, the common wisdom says, than a man with a penis not much bigger than a clitoris left to grow up as a man, hoping that the penis will grow as he ages, but then it does not, and he's doomed to go through life as a man without a penis.

The most common of these incidents occurred with a set of twins born in the 50's. During the circumcision process, one of their penises was accidentally cut off (um...) and Bruce thus became Brenda, while retaining all the chromosomal makeup of a man. Though he was raised as a "girl," he was obviously always very masculine, played sports and had numerous temperamental problems, even before puberty. In adolescence the truth about her gender was disclosed and he elected to have surgery to turn back into a man. He eventually got married and had children, but never really adjusted to his new gender, either (it seems that neither really worked for him) and he ended up committing suicide in his early 40's. His suicide was soon followed by his twin who was so distraught at his brother's suicide that he did the same thing. Nature vs. Nurture? Speaks volumes about nature to me. Gender being inherent rather than constructed.

That's just the most famous case. In my research I've started to become a little obssessed with intersex and transgenderism. So much so, in fact, that I've been thinking it might be an area in which I want to specialize as a therapist. Either counseling adults who have suffered traumatic gender issues, or with families who have to make decisions about babies and children. The common theory now being that no surgeries should be done on children until they're old enough to offer consent, and make up their own minds.

Fascinating. Well, at least to me.

Blue

Maybe the god I don't believe in hasn't abandoned us completely after all.

At least we know the machines aren't rigged.

Stop me if you think you've heard this one before

It happened last night. Work was slow. He was working at the register right next to me. There was a lull. He turned to me.

"You growing a beard?" he asked, grinning.

I shrug. "I guess. It's a little patchy, but I grew one last winter and I liked it."

He nods, still smiling at me.

"Nice haircut too," he adds.

"Thanks," I reply. I point at him. "You need a haircut." (I'm flirting, see.)

He gets all embarrassed. "I know! My sister's getting married this weekend, and blah blah blah....."

The details aren't important. What is important is that he kept talking to me all night.

He wanted to talk about Borat; he wanted my opinion on films, and what my favorite movies are, and what movies I think he should see.

What? When I asked him why, he said, "Because. You're a film guy and you probably have good taste."

Hmm. How does he even know about my past dalliances in film? I don't think I've told a single person there that I used to do that. Certainly not him. He and I have barely talked, and it wasn't about our pasts.

Anyway, it went on all night. We would frequently look up at each other and smile. At one point, he came and stood right next to me to tell me something.

So, this should all be good, right? Flirting heavily with a boy I find funny and very attractive, in a totally pressure-free environment like work? Not only that, but he instigated all of it! I swear!

Well here's the problem: he's 21-years-old!!!!!!

God damn you, cruel Fate! I was this close to seeing if he wanted to go grab a beer at the Draft Horse after work, but I was hungry and wanted to go home and eat. So I didn't (at least I know my priorities). And I was afraid he'd say no. And I was afraid that I was grossly misreading all of this. It wouldn't be the first time I've mistaken friendliness/kindness for flirting or romantic interest (story of my life, in fact).

Which I have discovered is the biggest problem with being 29, an undergrad in college, and working a part-time job at a hip Austin establishment: I meet tons of new people all the time (between school and work), but they're all, like, between 19 and 21. And no matter how attractive, or funny, or smart, or interesting they might be to me, they're still only 19-21, and possess no hope of giving me any kind of fulfilling relationship. I suppose I could just enjoy their company for what it is, maybe have some quickie rolls in the hay with some young, hot dudes, and then move on, but frankly, I'm just looking for a little more substance than that these days. Casual sex does not hold the allure it used to hold for me, for a multitude of reasons.

In fact, the last man I actually met in person (as opposed to the internet) was about 3 weeks ago, and it turned out we had some mutual friends, and the story got very twisted, but we were both very interested in each other, but he was only 25, and just as I suspected, he turned out to be flaky and unreliable. And I was actually disappointed. Just goes to show you I'm right. When you're working in the realm of men, always go older. Never younger. They only let you down.

Okay, this post was just supposed to be about Flirty Work Guy; how did I get into all this?

I have to go run errands.

Ballerinas that have fins that you'll never find

I never knew this, but apparently many scientists believe that dolphins are highly-evolved dog-like creatures that used to live on land and have four legs. What?

An article in Britain's Daily Mail today talks about a dolphin caught off the coast of Japan that has an extra set of fins in the back, about the size of human hands, that may be remnants of the second set of legs.

Experts believe that the dolphin's ancestor was a dog-like creature which roamed the earth many millions of years ago. And now the extraordinary discovery of a bottlenosed dolphin with an extra set of flippers has provided living proof of the theory.

At first glance it looks like any other of its kind. But closer inspection reveals a rogue set of rear fins.

Each the size of a human hand, the fins are thought to be the remains of a pair of hind legs, adding to evidence that dolphins once walked on all fours.

I knew dolphins were supposed to be really, really smart (and I even once heard that someone, somewhere, posited a theory that dolphins were evolved humans, but I have no idea where this came from, or where I heard it).

I love shit like this, though. It's so exciting and always makes me wonder where humans are headed.

Recent fossil finds support the belief that, 50million years ago, forerunners of the present deep-sea mammals had limbs and were quick on their feet.

The creatures, which belonged to a group called Pakicetids, looked like a cross between a wolf and a tapir and had large heads, long powerful tails, spindly legs and ankle bones well adapted for running.

They also had bones in their ears which are unique to cetaceans, the sea family to which whales and dolphins belong.

It is thought the dolphin's land-loving ancestors first crawled into the sea to escape predators or seek food between 50million and 35million years ago.

Their hind legs became smaller and smaller before eventually disappearing altogether. The new aerodynamic shape reduced drag in the water, speeding their swimming.

God, that's amazing! It makes me positively giddy. I had no idea.

Everybody knows I'm just barely getting by

If at this point, I need to explain to you who Ted Haggard is, you need to get out of your bubble. Admittedly, when this news first broke, i was overjoyed. There's nothing I love more than hateful hypocrites, and people who thrive on demonizing others, getting their one-up, being publically humiliated and disgraced, and having their ignorant or naive followers have to face a little more reality than they're used to having to deal with.

But you know, this guy gets me. For some reason, much more than Foley, this story really moves me. I feel genuinely bad for the guy, and I kind of want to give him a hug.

Interestingly enough, Tony Campolo seems to get it, too, and in this interview actually blames religious leaders for not only causing, but perpetuating this type of behavior that Haggard has engaged in. He understands the shame of the closet, the irreparable damage that living in a society that hates you can do to one's psyche, and calls for compassion, forgiveness, and reaching out to gay people by evangelicals. Perhaps a new day is dawning after all. I mean, Jesus Christ, how many more times does this kind of shit need to happen before people start to understand and realize that it is society's prejudice that creates these monsters that hurt people and destroy families, not that they're inherently evil people who are driven mad and into a life of self-destruction simply by nature of who they are.

I sympathize with Haggard, I honestly do. Every gay person, if they're really honest with themselves, will. The ones who want to demonize him are not much better off than he is. Which is not to say that I think he should be let off the hook for his hypocrisy, or not be held responsible for the furthering of hatred in which he has engaged, but the man obviously hates himself on a very, very deep level. And not only that, nobody of his status buys drugs and visits the same prostitute every month for 3 years, and doesn't, on some level, want to be caught. This man is in pain, and caused irreparable damage to his family. I can't imagine what it feels like to be this man's wife right now. His life is effectively over. As I said, we don't need to excuse this, but I feel a little compassion is in order.

I sincerely hope that some positivity comes out of all this, even if it's the start of a new dialogue, or just the reconsideration of a handful of people about their beliefs and actions. I can only hope that it further damages the credibility of the Republican party, and the power of the evangelicals, but more than that, I truly truly hope that Haggard can recover from this and become a whole human being someday. I don't envy his journey; I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, and as painful as my own journey of acceptance has been, his will be a thousand times worse. So I feel for him. If I believed in his God, that he may, or may not, actually have any faith in, I would pray for him.

Sigh. This story breaks my heart, to be honest, and I've been following it very closely. I hope I live to see the day where the society in which I live moves on from these types of stories because these types of things no longer happen, because everyone is on an equal playing field.

and we both of us knew how the end always ends

I thought you knew me. I am nothing but sentimentality. I am sentimental at the expense of reality. All I believe in is idealism.

That's why it all hurts so much.

My new favorite blog*

Can I just say? Brilliant. Good job, Friend. I love your musings; they amuse me to no end, but they're also provocative and clever.

Thank you for sharing them with us.


*Just don't write about politics, okay? (Just kidding. Sort of.)

But he doesn't look a thing like Jesus

I have a crush, but I didn't realize it until this morning when I was driving home from school. There's a man in my life that I think about all the time, and in whose company I feel insecure, silly, and like he would never even think to look my way (which in my world means I like him), but I would never ever date him.

Remember a few posts ago, where I wrote about working my first night shift at the AIDS hospice, and there was another volunteer there who prayed with the dying man? He's a big 'ole Christian, in divinity school, wants to go to Seminary, is crushingly unhip and unfashionable, and I don't even find him attractive, but what I do find attractive is his inner peace.

His smile warms me and makes me feel calm, and just being in his presence (I've worked with him several times now) soothes me in some unexplainable way. I trust him. I don't even know him, but I feel like I could tell him anything in the world, and he would never judge me, even on the inside. He seems so content. Maybe I'm confusing jealousy with attraction.

It's such a nice contrast to see someone so genuinely humbled and made whole by their faith, as opposed to what you normally see in the way of evangelicals, who seem only to be made more insecure, angry and hate-filled by their faith. I think maybe this is proof that God isn't real; how could he work so differently in different people? Were he real, and were these people's faiths legitimate (all of which would die to say that it is), why would it manifest itself so differently? Does it depend on how you come to it?

Maybe this man I'm sort of infatuated with has led a long, miserable, awful life and only coming to faith made it bearable for him. Maybe his radiating of peace and tranquility is all an act, and he hates his sexuality, and that's what guided him towards the seminary, so that he could use that as a buffer to not have to live it.

I don't know. All I know is that I've started working every Tuesday night because that's the night that he works, and I always get excited about seeing him.

What Becomes of the Brokenhearted

For years I've been familiar with author E. Lynn Harris, but I always thought he was a woman who wrote cheap and corny romance novels for other young, lonely, black women.

But I was in Half-Price Books recently and came across a memoir whose title caught my eye, which also happens to be the title of this entry. (For those of you who know me at all know that I absolutely love memoirs; they're my favorite thing to read.) So I flipped through it and read the sleeve, and it turns out that not only is E. Lynn Harris a man, and a gay man, but that he grew up in Arkansas (Little Rock), attended school at the University of Arkansas, and now lives in Fayetteville and teaches! So that, combined with the title, made me buy it without hesitation.

I finished it last night, and while his writing is a bit saccharine and sentimental, even for my sappy-ass taste, I was moved to tears by the end of the book. He grew up in a much different era than I did, not only gay, but black, in Northwest Arkansas (which, really, must have been terrifying, even if he didn't consciously know it), but I found myself relating to so much of what he went through, in terms of coming to terms with himself, his homosexuality, and his existential crises at feeling burned-out, used up, and bitter by his late 20's. (Hmmm....)

He didn't turn to writing until his early 30's, urged on by a wonderful friend who was dying of cancer (in his late 20's, three of his best friends died of AIDS, almost back-to-back; it was the 80's), and he had to self-publish his first book, but the rest is history.

The book ends on an incredibly upbeat note, and he even finds a man for himself that wants to stick around. His depression still comes and goes, but after spending most of his 20's suicidal, depressed, and with his face in a bottle, he learns how to live a life of dignity, openness, and optimism. It's very inspiring.

So, I can't wait to start reading his novels, though I'm not sure how much I'll actually enjoy them. And I also want to start stalking him and find him by Christmas! :)

But not before I read this book,, which I started last night and is already so good I can't wait to finish it.

Well, holy shit

New Jersey legalizes gay marriage today. Sort of.

All seven justices agreed that the state’s Constitution demands full legal rights for same-sex partners. But its ruling, 4 to 3, revealed a split in how to proceed. The majority said that lawmakers, not the court, should decide whether to call those arrangements a marriage, a civil union or something else. The three dissenters went further, asserting that gay couples, like their heterosexual counterparts, must be allowed to wed.

Cindy Meneghin, right, and her girlfriend, Maureen Kilian, along with their daughter, Sarah. One of 7 couples who sued the state in 2002 for the right to marry.

If only cameras had never been invented

Halloween, how I love you.

Funny how he's the one that gets married, but he sends me a present!

But I love Matt Kane!!!!

Today I received my very own, hand-crafted, Six Feet Under-inspired jug-type thing. I love it. It's beautiful.

Thank you! And happy wedding. So sorry I missed it.

Isn't it beautiful?

Just take my word for it

Never drink 20 ounces of a peanut butter/protein smoothie right before you go to the gym. Especially if you haven't been to the gym in about 2 weeks. Oy.

Do you know my name, do you even care?

It's not very often that something comes along and instantly transports you back to a much more innocent and less self-conscious time in your life, when you really thought stardom was a given, and the world would soon be yours, if only you could get out of your little dead-end town.

Well, this morning, I was reminded of that time in mine and my oldest friend's life (as in, the friend I've had the longest), and our shared missed destiny.

Where do dead dreams go?

Happy Friday, everyone.

How's that whole Jesus' love thing workin out for ya?

As I was leaving my house this evening, I was slowly coming around the somewhat sharp, blind curve just north of my block, when a little red pickup came flying around the curve, pretty much right in the middle of the road, and came within about an inch of smashing into me.

I jerked my car to the right, nearly hitting the curb, to prevent being plowed into, and laid on my horn. I threw my hands up in the air at the driver and mouthed "What the hell are you doing?" you know, just to let them know that they seriously need to slow down.

So what does the driver do but furiously flip me off and yell "Fuck you!" out the window. As if I was the one who did the wrong thing.

These kinds of encounters always make me feel a little personally attacked, and as I sat there a moment, I looked up at the truck in my rear-view mirror and noticed that it had one of those little Jesus fish symbols with a large cross through it affixed to the back, along with some bumper sticker that said Jesus on it real big, and some other writing, but I couldn't make out what it said.

Nice.

"New, unexplored political gutters into which they can wallow."

Holy. Shit.

Very long, but so worth watching. I wonder if Keith Olbermann ever worries about starting his car or opening his mail.

I don't think anyone could have said this better. It's absolutely rage-inducing, but comforting to know that it was broadcasted to millions of Americans.

Dilemma

In which our Young Hero wonders about not only the weirdness, but also appropriateness, of asking out a co-worker for a drink or 12, when our Young Hero is quite uncertain of said co-worker's sexual orientation.

There have been only two (very) brief encounters, but both were giggly and could possibly be described as flirty. Our Young Hero, however, got absolutely no gay vibe whatsoever. Though there was a giggly, maybe flirty vibe. By the way, it's not this guy.

I don't know: is that weird? He sure is hot. And giggly. And has an amazing butt.

Filling the bottomless void of my soul

I've never been a "sugar person." I've always been much more of a "salt person." I like my occasional dessert, and sometimes I get the hankering for some ice cream (especially in the winter, for some reason), but I've never liked candy, I can only eat chocolate in small amounts, and usually I just don't like sweet stuff.

Well let me tell you, since I quit smoking I've only craved a cigarette maybe twice, and it quickly passed, but I've been a sugar fiend like nobody's business. Sodas every day? Check. Milkshakes? Check. Ice cream smoothies? Check. The little chocolate squares right by the registers at Central Market? Check. The boxes of 6 peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies made by the bakery? Check. Pre-made cookie dough, eating half of it, then baking some cookies, and eating like, 6 of them in one sitting? Check. Putting sugar on my oatmeal in the morning, which I haven't done since junior high? Check. Adding sugar to iced coffee? Check. Coming home at night and drinking gigantic glasses of chocolate milk, sometimes two? Check.

And I'm sure I could think of some more. It's appallingly disgusting. It really started kicking in after about a week of not smoking, and I begrudgingly gave in for a few days. But now it just feels out of control. I've pretty much cut myself off, and tried my damnedest to supplement my cravings with fruit or yogurt, and mostly it works, but it still just....gets you.

I haven't really been drinking much, either, but I've increased my beer intake again in hopes that that will kill the sugar cravings.

It's always something with me. I'm just a bottomless pit of need.

Foley

I've been debating for a short time about whether or not to comment on this whole Foley scandal, but now that 2 inevitable things have happened, I feel the need to post. The first being Foley announcing his alcoholism and molestation as a child. Boo hoo! I have nothing but the utmost sympathy for people with emotional problems, addictions, and traumatic childhoods, but to start using those things as defenses in a situation like this is irrelevant, misguided and cheap.

But come on, take some god damn responsibility. Real responsibility.

I'm tempted to feel a little sorry for the guy, honestly. Only someone with a deeply imbedded shame about who they are would do these kinds of things, and go so fucking far out of their way to present themselves as the complete opposite kind of person, and even enact bills and laws to more severely punish people for doing things that they do. It's really sad and it's sick, and I'm glad the man is getting treatment, but obviously he knew he had these issues, and has apparently been preying on teenagers for at least 11 years now. Why did it take him getting "outed" to finally seek help? Was getting outed his "rock bottom?" I'm tempted to say no, since it seems he probably would still be doing the same predatory things, and keeping on keeping on had he not finally been busted. So I can firmly say, "Fuck you, Mark Foley!" There are lots of people out there who have substance abuse problems and were molested or abused as children, or who suffer from intense shame about who they are, and what their desires are, that don't wreck other people's lives. And shame on everybody for sitting on this. It makes me wanna fucking throw up. To me, this is almost the same as gay bashers using the gay panic defense, which seems to be pretty in vogue these days.

Which brings me to my next point, which is that I've actually been very impressed with how little the mainstream media has jumped on the whole gay aspect of this, but of course the pathetic, small-minded conservatives have now started their typical hateful harping. Check out some of those quotes. They're pretty priceless. Or this enlightening article from a Christian newspaper blaming the GOP party for "flirting" with pro-homosexual policies, when there is clearly a "predatory component to male homosexuality." Um, what about the fact that at least 2 out of 3 male congressman are probably fucking their female pages? I'm just saying.

I know it's ridiculous to get mad about this, and of course the conservatives are going to do everything in their power to distance themselves from this, but still, I just can't believe that these are the people running our country.

And to top it all off, Dennis Hastert needs to be hung from a tree by his dick. What a fucking smug, shady idiot. It's fascinating to me how quickly politicians can spin this shit to make it have absolutely nothing, but nothing, to do with the real issue at hand. I'm not saying that only Republicans do this, but they sure have been good at it lately.

It also seems to me that perhaps it's not the Democrats, but the Republicans, who are the ones with really convenient timing. Sacrificing one for the sake of the Coach, eh boys?

And last, but not least, this ad that ran in a NY bar zine is by far the tackiest and most irresponsible ad I've seen in awhile:
Nice.

I need to get off the internet today.

Not quite metrosexual

The straight man's guide to dating other men.

Mildly entertaining.

New Horizons

In addition to having inexplicably become excited about statistics, I have now decided, in all seriousness, to embark upon the world of cooking.

I hate cooking. I'm terrible at cooking. Which is the main reason I hate doing it. But the other day, someone told me about a carrot soup that they make that sounded delicious, so today I decided to try to make it.

While searching for a good recipe, I came across another recipe for cold blueberry and yogurt soup, to be used primarily as a dessert. So I decided to make them both.

The blueberry concoction has turned out nicely, I think; it's chilling at the moment. And the carrots, onions and spinach for the soup are simmering and getting mushy. About to be pulverized; I can't wait.

I also purchased a nice little piece of salmon to eat with the soup. And some Lone Star. And it's actually fun. I'm starting out simple, and hoping to gradually become more and more culinarily (is that a word?) skilled.

Here's a picture of my boiling soup (pre-mashing):
Taken with my computer, while holding my computer upside-down over the soup. Talented photographer, eh?

A little poop came out

Oh my god, I hope this is for real. That's hilarious.

I spend way too much time on Craigslist.