I'm a little slow today. I just switched to Sanka. So...have a heart?

Friday, June 24, 2005

That's gay; and other ruminations.

I just realized it's Pride 2005. Eh.

My boyfriend is out of the country, my gay friends are elsewhere, and I'm studying for the bar. Big fucking deal.

Not only that, I've never quite grasped "GAY PRIDE!" For me, after I came to terms with it, and made the awkward transition of telling all my friends and my parents that I was gay, while having virtually no gay friends, and continuing to basically only hang out with straight people all the time, I think the best I'm going to be able to do is, "Gay and O.K. with it!"

I've never quite understood the pride angle. Oh, sure, I know it's not my fault, and not my choice. But I also know that people world-wide (but especially in totalitarian religious-nut countries like the Arab world and the United States) are kind of skeeved out by the idea of homos (They don't seem to have a problem with Robert, who cuts their dogs' hair, or Angela, who arranges their flowers...just gays...in general)...where was I? I've lost myself somewhere in this sentence... hmm. Well... We have made some enormous contributions to the world, but that's probably because we've got something to prove. God knows I have. Why else did I bust my ass in law school (all for naught, as of yet) and claw to the upper echelons of my class, while ensuring that I know everyone, people like me, and I have (had) a fantastic shoe collection? (Not anymore, I've stopped buying anything except flip-flops...they're all I wear anyway..) Cuz I gots something to prove.

Despite my "token" status, I demand that people see me not for a queer kid, but for someone who is capable and intelligent, hardworking, honest, dilligent, friendly (even if sometimes catty) and an all-around good guy. I used to work to build that reputation, so that when I came out of the closet, there were attributes to me that people would see as positive and not run screaming from me. Over time, they just sort of became who I am. Anal-retentive, friendly and compulsive, with expensive jeans.

I am all of those things. I also belong to two groups marginalized through history - with pretty distinct cultural identities. I guess I'm proud to be Jewish. We do own the world, after all...hell, I could buy you as you read this blog. Proud to be gay? Jury's still out on that one.

Not that I'm some self-hating fag, and God knows that I'm not some shrinking violet, but the whole idea of running, screaming down 5th Avenue, banging drums and screaming, "I'M GAY AND PROUD!!!" just seems a little forced - but then again, so do many things us gays do. Lots of screaming and colors... Sometimes it's cool, but sometimes I just wish we'd chill the fuck out and calm. down. Maybe Pride is just an excuse to have a party, and lord knows us queens love a good party. For me, anyway, the label "PROUD!" it just...doesn't exactly sit where it's supposed to.

So, while the droves come out in San Francisco and New York and Atlanta and Fort Lauderdale and Chicago, wearing their rainbow wigs and their leather chaps, their Dolce & Gabbana sandals and their Lacoste shirts, their nose rings and their fishnet stockings and mullets, I'm glad that they make their presence known, bellowing from the rooftops and from the floats that we're here, we're a vibrant community, we're tax-paying, contributing and valuable members of society, and by and large we're more successful and educated as a group than most other groups, up there with the Jews. We also have fabulous taste. Unless they're from Wilton Manors. Then all bets are off. And also, I guess, "I'm gay and okay with it" isn't that catchy of a slogan - it's sort of half-hearted and sounds like a resigned sigh.

On the title of this blog, Dan told me today that some chick he went on a date from JDate with, yelled, YELLED at him because he said, "That's gay."

I say that ALLL the time. Yeah, I know that it's derogatory blah blah, shut up. It rolls off the tongue quite nicely. Also, it has some punch behind it. Now, I don't advocate people saying it allll the time, and I don't advocate saying it in front of some militant dyke or pissy queen prone to fits (like me during Exams. Hey, guys!) but eh. I don't consider it that offensive if used sparingly and with the right company.

What I do, however, consider offensive is self-righteous straight people, whipping themselves into a lather and correcting other people for saying something like that. You can hate the way it sounds all you want, but you're not a member of the group, and therefore you have no "standing" to gripe about it. You're not personally injured, so shut up. (Hey, Constitutional Law! How's it hangin?) Her rationale to correct Dan was that, "Her dyke friends hate that expression!" When I raised my eyebrows at the fact that she called her lesbian friends "dykes" Dan told me that her lesbian friends hated the word "lesbian." (Her lesiban friends are probably also the same lesbians that sport mullets, tapered MOM-jeans, and Teva sandals, and spell woman "WOMYN." Either that, or they're 400 pounds, with a red mohawk, a bull-ring through their noses, and big Doc Marten boots. Ugh. Men-hating freaks. And please don't get me wrong. I LOVE lesbians, and the fact that I ain't got no Sistahs down here in the M.I.A. disturbs me. I do, however, hate people who push everything to the extreme. What ever happened to comfortable moderation?! Huh?)

People like this straight girl bother me. On some things, we can fight our own battles. Yeah, we need your help with the marriage/civil unions thing, and yeah, we need your help not being pushed into the ocean by all the mean right-wing conservative republican satanists, but on little things like, "that's so gay," stay the hell out. How are you offended, huh? Are you sad on behalf of your friends? Angry? Are you just making a big deal out of something because you feel like it? Can the self-righteous, pharisaical crap. All you're doing is making yourself look like an asshole.

Ugh. It's like some W.A.S.P. jumping to the aid of a non-present Jewish person at the restricted country club (howdy, stereotypes!) saying, "Don't say that! I have lots of Jewish friends!" (Or you could say Black, Asian, Short, Catholic, Mexican...whatever.) It sounds patronizing and insincere.

I don't know what motivates a heterosexual to get huffy about this, and I don't know whether her intentions were good in getting mad, but I really wish Dan had shot back, "Yeah, well I have a faggot friend who says it all the time, and in that case, who wins, bitch? My friend isn't offended, so he balances out your dyke friends! Boo-yeah!" He didn't, though.

I don't know what I'm saying, really. I guess this is the bottom line in my mind: I think it's fantastic that people are becoming (sort of) more accepting and tolerant, and more willing to stand up for other people. I do not think, however, that someone who is not a member of the particular defamed group, should make a federal case out of an expression like that, unsolicited by members of the group. That rubs me the wrong way, because there's no reason for her to react so violently. She's never endured discrimination or hatred as a result of her heterosexual status (And do NOT start in with me with like, 'Once, I was in a gay bar, and someone found out I was straight, and they were mean! Waahhh!' NO ONE wants to hear about your struggle with adversity and reverse discrimination being part of the majority, because now you're just looking for something to get riled up about.) and while she may feel sympathy for her gay sisters, correcting others is NEVER a good way to make friends.

That is all.

I burned the shit out of my tongue.


Yesterday, before I went to Carolina's Legal Art thing, and then to the Victor Hotel (FA. A. A. A. A. BULOUS, by the way. The Delano is so tired and done already, so it's nice to have some new cool blood on South Beach...I mean, the Delano will always be the Delano, as Stephen pointed out, but the Victor is like...everything that I think a swank hotel/bar should be. Plush, surreal, and ginormous.), I made myself some black bean soup. I did this because 1) I saw Dave Lieberman do it on his show, and I figured I'd try out his recipe (not really, I sort of just improvised, but I liked some of his ideas. I also want to do him.) 2) I needed to use up the last of my bacon before it went bad (I know. Bad, Jew!), 3) I figured I could simmer the soup while I showered, and 4) I'm on strike buying groceries again, so I have to eat canned goods until about the 30th. Ugh.

La la la, soup looked phenomenal, la la la, put it in a bowl, didn't bother pureeing it, because I was in a hurry and it looked tasty, sort of like tortilla soup, without the tortillas. La la la, put on a dollop of sour cream, and la la la...took that fateful bite.

La la la, did the slurpy thing, where I fanned my hands and moved my tongue around thinking, "SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, I BURNED MY FUCKING TONGUE!"

My friend Danny burned his tongue the other day on Subway soup, and right after he did it, he said, "Well, great. Now I've ruined the rest of today."

And I thought, "Wow, that's really true. Burning your tongue is one of those injuries that really drains the fun out of a day." As I ate my soup, the pain subsided, and I figured that it was just a minor wound, and wouldn't cause long-term damage.

Last night I proceeded to get drunk, and have a fantastic time. This morning, however, when I woke up stinking of vodka, and cigarettes, it didn't help matters at all that my tongue now feels like it's coated with cheap carpet.

Mother. Fucker. I have the Three-Day Tongue Burn.

I hate that. I can't taste jack shit today and I keep scraping my wounded tongue against the top of my mouth for the sheer sadistic joy of that slightly rasping pain it brings, and to remind myself that I now have a furry alien caterpillar in my mouth, instead of my tongue.

Like, honestly. Why do tongues burn? They're covered with water!!! (Spit, I guess, but I consider that viscous water.) Shouldn't the water absorb some of the temperature differential, and spread out that temperature differential, efficiently, thereby avoiding burnt-tongue syndrome?

And why does it hurt so goddamn much when we burn things anyway!? This is going to be one of those dumb statements, but, "I hate burning myself." Yeah, yuk it up at my simplistic statements, but I'd much rather have a papercut or a nice, satisfying bruise or a scab than a burn. Burns...HURT!

So, I finished the offending soup today. It's a good thing I'm sequestered in my room, gassy and depressed that I can't taste anything. Stupid black bean soup. This burn would also hurt a lot less if I didn't have to learn the Florida Torts Distinctions. Not for any particular purpose, I just felt like syaing that.

And you know what? I'll bet tomorrow isn't going to be much better. I feel like this is one of those burns that's gonna linger. I wouldn't be surprised if those little molten hell beans make my tongue peel. (Isn't that a horrible thought?!)

Pity me. For my tongue, and for my inability to learn.