sure enough…

so get this: in an effort to be a little gay-friendlier than my last post, i decided to watch “Milk” for the first time.

I ejected it after about 30 minutes.

i appreciate the effort. i do, i really do. it’s probably the best we’re gonna get for maybe 6 years or so, after more big waves of political and social change. but the writing was shit. i wanted to punch Emile Hirsch’s character in the face as soon as he over-acted his fancy swagger (and i normally come in peace!). James Franco was adorable, with as much substance as a golden retriever. Sean Penn did the best he could, which, considering the writing, is pretty good. But as a whole, it almost felt like propaganda. Propaganda for ideas of which i support, but propaganda nonetheless.

Funny, i was rooting on principle for Milk every time it was up for an Academy Award, but now that i’ve seen it, i take my rooting back. I wouldn’t root for Slumdog Millionaire (the first 10 minutes seduce you in, and then they hope you don’t notice the inconsistencies stylistically and in the screenplay.), and i doubt i would have had patience for Benjamin Button unless it was mind-blowingly good (as reviews refute). That leaves The Reader, and Frost/Nixon, and i’m going on a wild guess here that i’d prefer Frost/Nixon simply because its historical political setting is more relevant to me and my life now than a love and justice story traced around a Nazi war crime trial is.

Oof. Time to watch the playoffs.

today is Hartford Pride.

when i was 16 and had just come out, Pride was so exciting, i could barely sleep the night before. I could hang out with my gay friends, do gay shopping (one more rainbow sticker won’t hurt!), and meet other gay people.

Now, i’m 28, and it totally turns me off.

Here’s the core of it: You are not your sexuality.

When you’re 16 and you’ve been concealing your sexual tendencies since kindergarten, and suddenly you’re out, hell YES, it’s ALL you are!!! That just makes psychological sense.

But now, at this age, it’s a much smaller part of who i am (especially considering my chronic singleness). And this leads me to my next thought…

I am incredibly irritated (but nice to) people who “act gay”. Butch lesbians. Effeminate men. I’m not talking the ones who just veer to the side, so to speak, but the outwardly homosexual types of people who just wear it on their sleeve (and ears and necks and t-shirts and car bumpers…). This is because they’re putting their sexuality on center stage, with all the solos, over-mic’d, making their sexuality the biggest thing about them.

That just seems creepy. If some straight guy was macho-ing it up around me, i’d bite my fist, too. If some straight lady was damseling all over the place, i’d bang my head against the wall. sexual orientation should be a part of you – not all of you – no matter what your orientation.

I suppose the innocent thing to say in defense of Pride is that it’s ONE day a year for people of a sexual minority to get together, and celebrate that which makes us different. sure, that’s lovely. That’s why i went. I parked, walked around, walked through, and was back in my car driving home within 20 minutes. I couldn’t stomach it. i felt disgusted. at my own people! how about that?

I thought, if i had a kid with me, i wouldn’t want to take them to Pride. I wouldn’t want them to think that’s all gay people are about. Our ONE public outing is a day of obnoxious music with booths as far as the eye can see, selling rainbow everything?

I wish it were a day of community service. There were a few booths with great AIDS education, community outreach organizations, heath care… Instead of a hedonistic meat market, i’d rather have us sponsor a day of community involvement, volunteerism, outreach. Whatever that means. My imaginary kid would have a better understanding that socially responsible people can be gay, straight, male, female, and anything (everything) in between. Not just lesbians wearing wife-beaters glaring at each other all day (that’s pretty much all i saw – no one was smiling! the hell?).

And i wanted to live in San Francisco?!?! Ugh. i take it BACK! (sorry, Lindsay, i don’t think you’re as irritable about this as i am! Good thing…)

That’s it. I’m gonna go cool down.

update: fuck it, i replaced the ring. having it makes me happy, and that’s all i really need to know.

(and Metric came out with a video for “Sick Muse”!!! hooraaaay! intentionally low-budget, and Emily looks, as ever, lovely. Hope they come out with one for “Satellite Mind”…)

i woke up this morning, missing the ball from my lip ring. Later in the day, i lost the lip ring! i get home, and find the ball. Such is life.

i called Greenman to see what time they were open until, so i could buy a new ring. They said the piercer guy left for the day, and locked up the case.

hm.

i’d always wanted my lip pierced. I think they’re incredibly sexy on absolutely everyone who has them. especially when pierced on the side. i can’t explain it, but i love it.

i thought, though… what if i don’t replace it? what if i retire the ring?

i got it pierced in May of 2004, urgently, expecting to surprise Ash with it when she was going to come back for the summer. i accidentally sent a text message to her that i meant to send to someone else, saying how i wanted to surprise her with it. Oops. She never ended up coming back for the summer, or seeing me or the piercing for three years.

Only part of the piercing contained elements of Ash. Anna-Marie did the piercing, and only charged me for the ring! Three months later, she was brought back from the dead after a bad car accident. She is still recovering exceptionally well from brain damage. Sometimes she still thinks she works at Greenman, and calls out apologetically. She remembers that she pierced my lip, and i still thank her for charging me so little.

I think, though, it could be a metaphor. When i was dating Lauren, she took her lip ring out, because she wanted to kiss me without the barrier of even the thinnest gauge ring between us. I appreciated the sentiment, but there was no way in hell i was taking this thing out. I think now, being single for five years (i ultimately don’t consider Lauren as a relationship – we met four times, and my epic attempts to feel all her love back were beyond futile), maybe i should change a few things… maybe it’s a barrier.

we’ll see which side of the fence i fall on…