Thursday, May 31, 2007


Now that I know I am -- for the time being, at least -- a wild and crazy bottom, I look back on thirty years of a valiant attempt to be a man, and realize that it was pretty much all in vain. Who on earth, besides myself, did I think I was fooling? I look back now and everything seems so ludicrously clear. I guess the moral of the story is that we will fight to the death to preserve our illusions from the threat of in-breaking reality.

Anything but reality! ANYTHING but that!

How I fought against the dictum of our friend John, who laughed slyly whenever anyone from our side of the street went and got married:

Once a faggot, always a faggot,

he used to say. So maybe I have to add:

Once a twink, always a twink,

which, to be honest, I find FAR more depressing. Especially once you've become a troll, on top of everything else. It's the combination that makes me cranky. Well, no, the combination makes me crazy. I'm cranky by nature...

Now if someone could just explain to me what the Goat sees in me, I'd be all set. Unless it's the Aging Twink thing, which might lead me straight out to the exhaust pipe and a hose. Well, maybe he has the same "ugly" thing going I do, but in the other direction... Best not to look a Gift Goat in the mouth, say I. Especially when it's one of his best features: what a kisser... but I think I should stop there...

And here's something else I think I've noticed:

My fall-off in readership seems to have coincided with my departure from home. And I can't help thinking I've noticed that the comment traffic, at least, is far higher back where guys are on the fence. This unfortunately seems to bear out another position of my ex-wife's: that the cheerleaders were all in it to see marriages go bust. There is a certain lust for disaster, for the guy to fall as far as the rest of us, somewhat akin to whatever it is that leads people to sit for hours in the broiling sun at a NASCAR race -- just on the off chance that all that speed will bring about one really spectacular crash. Downhill skiiing has a lot of that same "interest" -- instant replay makes all of that complete torture for me. It's bad enough the first time.

Then there was the morning of September 11th, when, at least until I turned off the TV, they kept showing the same footage of people jumping out of the building before it collapsed... over and over and over again...

It may just be human nature, but it's certainly not the nicest aspect of it.

Then there are the bigger Goat issues. One of my last queer experiences back in the '70's was a classic bait-and-switch, which I have since seen described by Paul Monette as the way he lost his "cherry," so maybe it's just a classic guy technique. (It sure seems that "cherry" is an odd word for a guy to use to describe getting his ass ripped open, but then, what do I know?) My "experience" started with a blow job, never finished, and somehow wound up with me getting roundly, roughly, and rudely @#$%-ed.
I can't help wondering if something like that is going on, in a kind of perverse slow motion, with the Goat; it was once all about me, but it seems to be, ahem, shifting. I only have half a problem with it, mind you, as I now have a fair amount invested in keeping him happy, and some of it really blows me away, BUT... there is still that little voice in the very back of my mind that asks:

Are we being taken advantage of here? Is there any place in this for "people"? I do like to think that I am "people" as well as "ass," but then, that's my "issue," isn't it?

Well, I don't know what I think I'm doing clinging to these last shreds of self-respect, anyway. You'd think I would just suck it up [to coin a phrase] and get on with it. God knows I've told enough other people to do so.

I'm still wondering what my life is going to be like minus the twenty-year church commitment, which I now see I am way beyond returning to.
I know a lot of really nice gay guys flock to the Unitarians, but somehow the whole church "thing" puts my teeth on edge more than ever.
I guess the weight has shifted, and the bits that always put me off now weigh heavier in the balance... So it's back to my old position of being of the church but not in it -- a fish within the fish, so to speak. What would the Darwinians make of THAT? I would care only if it made them foam at the mouth, which is pretty unlikely.

Well, hang in there, all of you.
We don't really have much choice.

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