Thursday, January 31, 2013

Editorial Feedback

I recently paid an editor to review the manuscript. Based on the criticism I received, I know I have to approach re-writes from a very different perspective. I'm unfamiliar with memoir and all the nuances. I was pronounced a good writer, but the editor tore large sections apart.

One must have a thick skin for such things, I recognize. Now comes a period of intense revision. I've mastered the short essay, but I'm a ways away from memoir, or even fiction. Should I be pleased with myself that I at least produced something?

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Christianity Without Arrogance

I repost this from Sojourners magazine.
 _____________

Much has been made of the "rise of the nones" — that is, the increasing percentage of Americans who identify with no religion. It is a fascinating and undeniable trend, and one that should catch the attention of religious leaders.

I know quite a few Nones. Few of them were raised in the absence of any faith tradition. Instead, most were part of a Christian denomination at some point, but consciously made the decision to leave. What interests me about their stories is this common thread: The majority left Christianity because of the attitudes of a person, and that person was not Jesus.

It was an overbearing parent, or a judgmental minister, or a congregant who told them they did not belong because they were gay or they were questioning or they had conflicted ideas. In many cases, it was a combination of these types of influences.

Something is wrong when we drive so many people away. I think a big part of that something is arrogance. This raises the question, then, of how to be a public Christian, even an evangelical Christian (which is how I identify myself), without running the risk of arrogance.

I don't embody the ideal I'm about to describe in answer to that question, but I know some people who do. These are the people who made me want to be a Christian. What I see in them are three key attributes: They are authentic, unashamed and honest.

By authentic, I mean a faith that truly reflects the narrative of the individual, one that is shaped by their own life. Because Jesus taught principles rather than one-size-fits-all rules (consider the two Great Commandments),

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

his directives will ring true to each of us in a different pitch. It means something that Jesus didn't have a catchphrase. Instead, he spoke to everyone he encountered in their own context. It was not an accident that when he talked about "living water," he was addressing the Samaritan woman at the well.

By unashamed, I mean that Christians should talk openly and publicly about the way their faith influences their actions, even when this brings this into conflict with others. If we choose to do something or not do something because of our faith, we should say so. This is different than feeling the need to impose our beliefs on others; rather it means not changing ourselves to conform to the majority.

For example, consider the important question of the Sabbath. A Christian should probably try to keep the Sabbath holy, since Jesus was so clear about this, and be unashamed to take those actions. However, we can do that without insisting that everyone else close down their businesses on Sunday.

By honest, I mean that we should not pretend that our faith or our life in faith is perfect, or makes us perfect, or is easy. We should be honest about our doubts, and about our own failures. Christianity is humbling, and we should be willing to be truthful about our problems and struggles. A Christian is not a perfected human, after all. I once heard someone say, "You can't be an alcoholic and a Christian," and I completely disagree.

You absolutely can be a Christian struggling with that problem, just as we all struggle. To claim that Christians are different than others because they behave better is just not true, based on any honest evaluation. What makes us Christian is the struggle itself.

It might be that our first job in responding to the rise of the "Nones" is that we should stop creating so many of them through our own arrogance and our attempts to judge others (contrary to Christ's express instruction). People are drawn to those who are strong and humble; is there any more compelling combination of attributes? Perhaps it is now the time to be those things, as Christ was, rather than smug in the conviction that we are always correct, and always the best.

We are often wrong, and we often fail. Our victory is that we do so in the service of something greater than ourselves. Christ's flag may be one of victory, but ours is one of humility, and that may
be as good as it gets.

Mark Osler is a Professor of Law at the University of St, Thomas Law School in Minnesota. A graduate of the College of William and Mary and Yale Law School, Prof. Osler is a former federal prosecutor whose work has consistently confronted the problem of inflexibility in sentencing and corrections.

I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself



I just don't know what to do with myself
I don't know what to do with myself
Planning everything for two
Doing everything with you
And now that we're through
I just don't know what to do

I just don't know what to do with myself
I don't know what to do with myself
Movies only make me sad
Parties make me feel as bad
'Cause I'm not with you
I just don't know what to do

Like a summer rose
Needs the sun and rain
I need your sweet love
To beat love away

Well I don't know what to do with myself
Just don't know what to do with myself
Planning everything for two
Doing everything with you
And now that we're through
I just don't know what to do

Like a summer rose
Needs the sun and rain
I need your sweet love
To beat love away

I just don't know what to do with myself
Just don't know what to do with myself
Just don't know what to do with myself
I don't know what to do with myself

Monday, January 28, 2013

The Choking and the Vanity

I'm a pro
But business is slow
So I'll be peddling my opinions again

Although
I don't want to take no
For an answer
I'm known to now and then

Who wants to live a life that's full of smoke and mirrors
[Oh the humanity]
The choking and the vanity
We know this but promises of love and careers
[Keep everyone intimidated]

Friends or foes
Every one of you knows
What it's like to surrender to me
Completely

But the beautiful bow
I'll be using will wrap it up so
Neatly

Health Update

 
What is to follow details the life of a person with several concurrent chronic illnesses. When I am too weak to put together a proper post, I figure I might as well describe my life as it is. This at least makes me feel more productive.  

The fatigue that characterized most of a month has subsided a little. It has not yet gone away completely. Tomorrow I have an appointment with the psychiatrist. I expect that the dosage of thyroid medications I've been prescribed will be upped slightly. I began at 25 micrograms, the lowest possible amount. Along with some increased energy and a few pesky side effects, I notice my fingernails are now growing at twice their normal rate.  

Tomorrow's visit will include copious amounts of bloodwork. I've almost gotten used to it by now. One of the bipolar meds, Lithium, can only have its level checked by first taking blood. I know generally whether or not I'm toxic or too low, but even in being responsive to what my body tells me, I still can't provide an accurate reading on my own. Along with Lithium will be several more vials to contribute. These will test for thyroid and pituitary hormone levels.

I've developed a severely overactive bladder. I first noticed the symptoms about five or six years ago, but the condition has gotten worse over the past year. When I found myself unable to sit longer than twenty minutes at a movie theater before having to head to the restroom, I knew I had to make some changes. Though I wish more low-impact procedures had been sufficient, I suppose I should be happy that solutions exist.

Two medications and a less invasive procedure have had minimal success. The worst symptoms are gone, but the problem continues. I am scheduled for surgery in a month or two. One option on the table is called interstim, which inserts a pacemaker-like device to prevent the spine from over-signaling the bladder to void. This is more invasive than I'd like, but I'll do it if I must. The graphic at the top of this post shows a graphical interpretation of the surgery.

The other, believe it or not, involves Botox. In this procedure, a small amount of toxin is injected into the bladder. It immobilizes the organ completely. The drawbacks are that it's not permanent. Botox injections have to be redone every nine months to a year. However, it does not run the risk of potentially causing severe side effects. I value the ability to attain an erection, to be totally truthful.

In the next three weeks, I have two fairly invasive pre-operation procedures scheduled. I won't go into much detail about those. What I will say is that the outcome of both will determine which course of action the urologist and I choose to pursue.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Quote of the Week


"The moment we choose to love we begin to move against domination, against oppression. The moment we choose to love we begin to move towards freedom, to act in ways that liberate ourselves and others."- bell hooks

Saturday, January 26, 2013

I Could Not Agree More

Beyond Diversity 101 is the training model that will be used at the LGBT Quaker Midwinter Gathering I will soon be attending. I am extremely pleased that someone has finally found a system that takes into account both my concerns and my convictions. A mission statement of a sort follows below.
 ________________

Diversity training has traditionally been based in models driven by guilt and blame. We believe that if the goal is to become a more whole society, such trainings are highly ineffective. We need to move beyond the vicious cycles that are embedded in these old “Diversity 101” models.

We can, in fact, abolish systematic discrimination within and without. It requires recognizing, taking responsibility, shifting mindsets while continually building and utilizing effective skills. Beyond Diversity 101 is for all who choose to transform systems of separation and power-over. It is for those who want to work toward wholeness — within and without.


Niyonu D. Spann Niyonu D. Spann talks about creating the Beyond Diversity 101 Workshops:


I first had a spiritual leading to develop the Beyond Diversity 101 intensive after some 10 years or so of working as a diversity workshop facilitator. I was beginning to see a disturbing pattern in myself and in my fellow trainers.  

When we facilitators measured "success" during and after a workshop, it was frequently by a yardstick which correlated to the following: on one side, how guilty had the white folks—especially white men—been made to feel; and on the other side, had the people of color, women or some other designated oppressed group gotten sufficiently in touch with their pain and expressions of anger? 

I began to notice that most activities in our workshops either encouraged oppressed groups to tell their story of victimization or else encouraged the oppressor groups to learn and hopefully to come to feel a sense of responsibility—more usually, guilt—about what they had "done."

It is natural to have feelings of guilt in response to one’s personal wrong actions or the crimes of a group to which one belongs. It is likewise natural to respond with feelings of anger on the side of the ones wronged. We are, after all, talking about serious crimes here: rape, murder, and premeditated attempts to dismantle whole cultures — historically and now!

It is important and even vital to tell the unvarnished truth about these past and present oppressive dynamics, and to permit space for the emotions that naturally arise. The problem I was perceiving in these workshops, however, lay in their end result: paralyzing guilt or anger for every participant, both the "oppressors" and the "oppressed." 

We were not imparting new understandings or rapprochements, much less engendering transformed agents of peace, social justice and equality. Participants often left us just more stuck than before.
So my fundamental awakening as a diversity trainer was this. Uncovering the fullest truth possible must always reach an acknowledgment of the deeper interconnection underlying our seeming divisions as "oppressed" and "oppressors."

We recognize the reality of that interconnection through the heart, not in becoming bogged down with negative emotions. Of course, we must acknowledge the gross injustices upon which our nation, communities and religious establishments have been founded and are presently sustained. Courage of heart will allow us to see and make these difficult acknowledgements, record the truth of them, but then also to take the necessary action, both within and without, to right them.

Therefore, the various Beyond Diversity 101 workshops all begin with the declaration that the heart is essential in this work. This quote by Gary Zukav frames each opening session: "This is Heartwork that we are doing – therefore we are calling on a wider order of logic than that which comes from the mind. This wider order of logic – this heartwork – requires close attention to feelings/emotions." Not everyone attending a BD101 training achieves such courage of heart, but this is surely the goal!

Saturday Video


Be what you wanna be
See what you came to see
Been what you wanna be
I don't like what I see

Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter will
Heaven beside you...Hell within
And you think you have it still, heaven inside you

So there's problems in your life
That's fucked up, and I'm not blind
I'm just see through faded, super jaded
And out of my mind

Do what you wanna do
Go out and seek your truth
When I'm down and blue
Rather be me than you

Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter will
Heaven beside you...Hell within
And you wish you had it still, heaven inside you

So there's problems in your life
That's fucked up, and I'm not blind
I'm just see through faded, super jaded
And out of my mind

Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter will
Heaven beside you... Hell within
And you know you have it still, heaven inside you

So there's problems in your life
That's fucked up, but You're not blind
You're just see through faded, overrated
And out of your mind

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Motion Pictures (for Carrie)



Motion pictures on my TV screen,
A home away from home,
and I'm livin' in between

But I hear some people have got their dreams.
I've got mine.
I hear the mountains are doin' fine,
Mornin' glory is on the vine,

And the dew is fallin', the ducks are callin'.
Yes, I've got mine.
Well, all those people, they think they got it made

But I wouldn't buy, sell, borrow or trade
Anything I have to be like one of them.
I'd rather start all over again

Well, all those headlines, they just bore me now
I'm deep inside myself, but I'll get out somehow,
And I'll stand before you, and I'll bring a smile to your eyes.

Motion pictures, motion pictures.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Beyond Stonewall


 
A couple days removed from the hyperbole and the echo chamber, I would like to express my appreciation to President Obama, with some caveats. It pleases me greatly that he mentioned gay rights in his Inaugural Address. It astonishes me that we live at a time where a sentiment once considered risky and divisive, even within my own lifetime, produces a minimal amount of vitriol.

I was, however, not entirely satisfied with the gesture. It very nearly qualifies as a safe statement, amazingly enough. When a Chief Executive voices an understanding of the complexity of sexual orientation, I will feel appropriately recognized. Inaugural Addresses are likely not the place, nor the occasion, but I’m still waiting for the fullest measure of devotion to trickle down to everyone.   

In part, I speak of my own feelings of isolation. I’ve rarely felt a part of the collective entity usually referred to as “the gay community.” In my experience, being a member required insider knowledge and a willingness to conform to a particular standard. Although not directly stated, nonetheless one learned to copy the models laid before us.

We’d never really belonged to the mainstream. If we agreed to wear the proper uniform, conforming in a different way altogether, we’d surely find commonality and common purpose there. I resisted easy categorization, mostly because my own sexuality was dense and convoluted, not easily to pigeonhole. I would even be so bold as to say that everyone’s personal expression of sexuality is complicated, but made simple for the ease of it. This is especially true for those who are not heterosexual.  

I write today because three weeks from now, I depart for an LGBT conference. This gathering, I am told, will be calm, sedate, and loving. The older I get, the more I find comfort in the sanctity of my own apartment and circle of friends, less in communal events. I never had much interest in protest rallies. My successes have arrived in small packages, but I begrudge them not at all.  

In this case, I will voluntarily break my regular routine in the hopes of achieving greater self-acceptance and perhaps even the promise of good company. I’m a little nervous, but that’s because of past life experience. Most people couldn’t distinguish me on the street from the run-of-the-mill straight person. It is there where I am most comfortable.  

My first experience among a predominately queer audience was a matter of too much, too soon. I’d been raised in a conservative state among social conservatives. I had only come out to myself as bisexual a short time before I signed up to attend. Then in my early twenties, I was beginning to slowly explore what it meant to be queer, but only on my own terms and only at my own glacial pace.

My introduction to queer culture came in the form of a Berkley radical, in-your-face, tattooed, pierced ethos. In my own life, I have felt no particularly compelling need for body modification or ink. I sometimes wear my politics on my sleeve, but four years of living in Washington, DC, has given me a pragmatic understanding of the pace and nature of reform. I’ve observed wave after wave of activism done wrongly and protest culture writ large.

Strong opinions, regardless of individual conviction, often boomerang or are self-limiting in practice. Southerners like me are still raised to find coarseness in opinion vulgar, even for the right cause. We’re generally diplomatic creatures until our honor is impugned, at which point wars can result. Activism should be disciplined, not knee-jerk and reactive.   

Politics aside, my personal life experiences are as much of me as my causes. For years, the feelings I had towards other men were usually stuffed down and denied. I’d sleep with a man, and then renounce the whole concept for a while. Then my curiosity and desire got the best of me again. My sexuality appeared to be a no-win proposition. If I was with a woman, I felt I ought to renounce all interest in men. If I was intimate with a man, I believed I needed to fully act the part.

I reluctantly, but fundamentally expressed belief in a self-limiting dichotomy.  A person could be all one way, or all the other, but not both at the same time. Now, I know this to be false, but it took me a very long time to accept the premise without summarily rejecting it out of hand. I can view, at long last, the grand spectrum of presentation and sexual identity.

I see the male within the female, the female within the male. No longer do I cringe at the sight or at the very thought of a gender traffic accident. Even more incredibly, I’m able to see those distinctions and combinations within myself. This was the hardest work of all.    

LGBTs have made considerable strides, but we still feel the need to self-identify for group unity. Today, young queer men and young queer women still signal to others who they are by subtle and not-so-subtle flourishes. A haircut, for example, might signal to other men that I’m interested. Even so, I’m very comfortable dressing as someone who is often considered heterosexual at first glance.

Stonewall paved the way for me to be as open as I am.  I don’t want to sound ungrateful. But now that the first layer has been peeled back, many people will have the ability to observe for themselves the complexity of human expression and biological design, especially when it concerns sexual orientation. We know the surface now, but should keep unearthing layer after layer. Those who broke so much new ground in their own time would be disappointed in us if we did not further everyone’s understanding.

Monday, January 21, 2013

From the Vaults



Harry was a rich young man who would become a priest
He dug up his dear father who was recently deceased
He did it with tarot cards and a mystically attuned mind
And shortly there and after he did find

Jeanny was a spoiled young brat, she thought she knew it all
She smoked mentholated cigarettes and had sex in the hall
But she was not my kind or even of my sign
The kind of animal that I would be about

Oh oh oh, you keep hangin' 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
 
Oh oh oh, you keep hangin' 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
Hangin' 'round, hangin' 'round

Cathy was a bit surreal, she painted all her toes
And on her face she wore dentures clamped tightly to her nose
And when she finally spoke her twang her glasses broke
And no one else could smoke while she was in the room

Hark the herald angels sang and reached out for a phone
And plucking it with ivory hand dialed long distance home
But it was all too much sprinkling angel dust to A.T. and T.
Who didn't wish you well

Oh oh oh, you keep hangin' 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
 
Oh oh oh, you keep hangin' 'round me
And I'm not so glad you found me
You're still doing things that I gave up years ago
Hangin' 'round, hangin' 'round

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Quote of the Week

 
"Bob Dole seems to me to be a classic example of somebody who had no reason to run. You're 73 years old, you're already the third-most-powerful man in the country. So why? He seems to be drawn by some psychological compulsion. And it's too bad because in a lot of ways, he's an admirable person. There's a great story there.

And Bill Clinton? Well, his campaign's fascinating to a student of politics. It's disturbing to someone who cares about certain issues. But politically, it seems to be working."- Barack Obama, 1996

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Saturday Video



It's coming down.
It's raining outside.
You've nowhere to hide.
She's asking you
Why you think it's funny.

It's coming down.
It's coming down.
She's leaving your house.
She had to get out.
She's mad,
And she'll take her mattress with her.

It's coming down.
It's coming down.

It's coming down.
It's coming down.
It's coming down.

You lie on the floor.
She's slamming your door.
She's gone,
And she's wearing your red sweater.

It's coming down.
It's coming down.

Thursday, January 17, 2013

Mrs. Vanderbilt



Down in the jungle living in a tent
You don't use money, you don't pay rent
You don't ever know the time
But you don't mind

Ho Hey Ho
Ho Hey Ho

When your light is on the blink
You never think of worrying
What's the use of worrying?
When your bus has left the stop
You'd better drop your hurrying
What's the use of hurrying?
Leave me alone, Mrs. Vandebilt
I've got plenty of time of my own
What's the use of worrying?
What's the use of hurrying?
What's the use of anything?

Ho Hey Ho
Ho Hey Ho

What's the use of worrying?
What's the use of hurrying?
What's the use of anything?

Ho Hey Ho
Ho Hey Ho

When your pile is one the wane
You don't complain of robbery
Run away, don't bother me
What's the use of worrying?
What's the use of anything?

Leave me alone, Mrs. Washington
I've done plenty of time on my own

What's the use of worrying?
What's the use of hurrying?
What's the use of anything?

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Why Violence Against Children is Always the Last Straw



As adults, we seem to have a soft spot in our hearts for children. Their unguarded honesty and innocence brings out a protective streak in us we do not always willingly grant to our peers. I've seen the meanest of the mean miraculously transformed into huge teddy bears when kids are present.

This phenomenon appears to be as true for men as it is for women. Men are given the right to show tenderness to their children in a socially acceptable, non-judgmental way. But after a time, kids grow up to be men and women, and with it often goes sweetness and affection. For other adults, that compassion is often never expressed, and sometimes never even allowed. 

But the question remains. Why does it take a tragedy against kids, not adults, for us to finally rouse ourselves from apathy and confront long-extant societal problems?  

One can think of multiple instances where violence against children facilitates social action.

The 1931 German Expressionist classic M features a serial killer who preys exclusively on children. When the police cannot bring the perpetrator to justice, the organized crime underworld intervenes. A child killer is bad for business, and even the most hardened hoodlum has a fond regard for children, one conspicuously not granted to other adults. It appears that there is honor and morality among thieves, or at least some chinks in the armor. 

Here’s another example. Robert Penn Warren’s political allegory, All the King’s Men, tells the story of candidate Willie Stark. Stark is an up and coming Deep South politico in the middle of the Depression. In the beginning, Stark’s successes at the ballot box are minimal, though he is disarmingly frank and genuine in his political sentiments. His breakthrough as a public servant arrives in the form of a tragedy, wherein young children die due to greed and gross negligence. 
While Willie was Mason County Treasurer, he became embroiled in a controversy over the building contract for the new school. The head of the city council awarded the contract to the business partner of one of his relatives, no doubt receiving a healthy kickback for doing so. The political machine attempted to run this contract over Willie, but Willie insisted that the contract be awarded to the lowest bidder. The local big-shots responded by spreading the story that the lowest bidder would import black labor to construct the building, and, Mason County being redneck country, the people sided against Willie, who was trounced in the next election. Jack Burden covered all this in the Chronicle, which sided with Willie.

After he was beaten out of office, Willie worked on his father's farm, hit the law books at night, and eventually passed the state bar exam. He set up his own law practice. Then one day during a fire drill at the new school, a fire escape collapsed due to faulty construction and three students died. At the funeral, one of the bereaved fathers stood by Willie and cried aloud that he had been punished for voting against an honest man. After that, Willie was a local hero.
I’ve never been a fan of using children for cheap emotional appeals. The child who holds the sign proclaiming that God Hates Fags is just as offensive to me as the one that urges observers to keep abortion legal. Children do not yet have a fully formed social consciousness, though they likely will someday. When kids are props for activism or teary-eyed appeals for money, I find the effect distasteful and manipulative.

In the New Testament, children are used as an example of proper conduct and faith.
Jesus called a little child to him and put the child among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. So anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven.”
One more example. We remember the four little girls who died in the 1963 bombing of the 16th Street Baptist church in Birmingham, Alabama. We may not remember the names of those who perished in sporadic, brutal lynchings over the course of decades. And in that spirit, the names on a monument of those who perished in war are usually abstractions to us. Had it been children holding a rifle and put into harm's way, I think we would remember these sacrifices more. 

Many, though not all of us, are parents. Why this extra level of sympathy for the departed? Do we visualize what it would be like to lose one of our own children? For those who are not parents themselves, it might even be said that children give us reason to entertain vulnerability and maybe even be a little vulnerable ourselves. Regardless of precise reason, I suspect the answer has more to do with us and far less to do with them.  

The crazed, sometimes disingenuous environment which we inhabit makes it very easy to lose sight of the things that are important. Recall, if you can, who we once were before the pressure of the adult world changed us. We ought not to become childish and irresponsible, but to merely remember that the simplest truths are those we neglect the most.

Monday, January 14, 2013

In Conclusion

I changed my mind. I will post something today. Below is the conclusion to my memoir, or at least as it appears for now. I've written this book entirely out of sequence on purpose. Now comes the task of conjoining and juxtaposition.

Another unedited excerpt of Wrecking Ball
_____________


In Conclusion

It may seem presumptuous for anyone under the age of fifty to write a memoir. Still, in my own defense, I packed my life full of rich experiences. Often, this was because I thought I’d never live to see twenty-five. I never did anything halfway or at half-speed.

The naturalist author Frank Norris put it this way. “I never truckled. I never took off the hat to Fashion and held it out for pennies. I told them the truth. They liked it or they didn't like it. What had that to do with me? I told them the truth.”

It is in that spirit that I have written this book.

I’ve deliberately chosen my thirtieth birthday as the cutoff date. The events happening in my life today are part of very different paradigm, one I have yet to fully comprehend, much less to understand. My life has taken twists and turns I could have never anticipated. In some ways, I resemble my earlier self, the self presented in these pages. But I think the eighteen-year-old me might find my daily existence today insufferable or even a flat out bore.

It’s easy to wax philosophical about oneself. Technology has made it even easier than before. Facebook has made it possible for me to be at least somewhat engaged with the faces and characters of a different era. I count fifty people in the course of ten years who have made their mark. I have left similarly heavy impression with them as well.

I often find it amazing that I have attracted that many interested parties. The shy kid I was for most of my early days peeks through on occasion. I showed them devotion and loyalty and asked for nothing in return. They have extended the same courtesy to me, even when we live hundreds, if not thousands of miles away. The mention of my name brings back pleasant memories, much as is the same when I think of them.

There are others I have mentioned with whom I no longer speak. They, too, are a part of my identity. The bitterness remaining from our separation has faded with time. I have no ax to grind anymore. They showed me who I was and pointed me from place to place. Even when we parted ways bitterly, I learned from the experience.

If this is the most lasting byproduct of a life, I will gladly accept it on its face. The most important things to me are the simple joys of communication with another human being. As much as we live inside our heads, the times we break out and reach out are a reward far beyond any selfish passion or vocation. I’m sorry that other people can’t always see that. They’re missing out, if you ask me.

And you may find yourself...

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Quote of the Week


"During the 1960s, large groups of people who are normally passive and apathetic began to try to enter the political arena to press their demands.… The naive might call that democracy, but that's because they don't understand. The sophisticated understand that that's the crisis of democracy."- Noam Chomsky

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Saturday Video


I can't believe I'm actually posting this. VH1 put this video into heavy rotation, back when it was considered MTV's redheaded step-child.

I won't let you down
I will not give you up
Gotta have some faith in the sound
It's the one good thing that I've got
I won't let you down
So please don't give me up
Because I would really, really love to stick around

Heaven knows I was just a young boy
Didn't know what I wanted to be
I was every little hungry schoolgirl's pride and joy
And I guess it was enough for me
To win the race? A prettier face!

Brand new clothes and a big fat place
On your rock and roll TV
But today the way I play the game is not the same
No way
Think I'm gonna get me some happy

I think there's something you should know
I think it's time I told you so 
There's something deep inside of me
There's someone else I've got to be
 
Take back your picture in a frame
Take back your singing in the rain
I just hope you understand
Sometimes the clothes do not make the man

All we have to do now
Is take these lies and make them true somehow
All we have to see
Is that I don't belong to you
And you don't belong to me
 
Freedom
You've gotta give for what you take
Freedom
You've gotta give for what you take

Heaven knows we sure had some fun, boy
What a kick just a buddy and me
We had every big shot good-time band on the run, boy
We were living in a fantasy
 
We won the race
Got out of the place
I went back home got a brand new face
For the boys on MTV
But today the way I play the game has got to change
Oh yeah
Now I'm gonna get myself happy

I think there's something you should know
I think it's time I stopped the show
There's something deep inside of me
There's someone I forgot to be
 
Take back your picture in a frame
Don't think that I'll be back again
I just hope you understand
Sometimes the clothes do not make the man

All we have to do now
Is take these lies and make them true somehow
All we have to see
 
Is that I don't belong to you
And you don't belong to me
Freedom
You've gotta give for what you take
Freedom
You've gotta give for what you take

Well it looks like the road to heaven
But it feels like the road to hell
When I knew which side my bread was buttered
I took the knife as well
 
Posing for another picture
Everybody's got to sell
But when you shake your ass
They notice fast
And some mistakes were built to last

That's what you get
I say that's what you get
That's what you get for changing your mind

And after all this time
I just hope you understand
Sometimes the clothes
Do not make the man

I'll hold on to my freedom
May not be what you want from me
Just the way it's got to be
Lose the face now
I've got to live

Friday, January 11, 2013

We're Not Gonna Take It



Welcome to the camp,
I guess you all know why we're here 
My name is Tommy, and I became aware this year 

If you want to follow me, you've got to play pinball 
And put in your earplugs, put on your eyeshades 
You know where to put the cork 
Hey, you, gettin' drunk, so sorry, I've got you sussed 
Hey, you, smokin' mother nature, this is a bust 
Hey, hung up ol' Mr. Normal, don't try to gain my trust 

'Cause you ain't gonna follow me any of those ways 
Although you think you must

We're not gonna take it 
We're not gonna take it, never did and never will 
We're not gonna take it, gonna break it, gonna shake it 
Let's forget it better still

Now you can't hear me, your ears are truly sealed 
You can't speak either, 'cause your mouth is filled 
You can't see nothing, and pinball completes the scene 

Here comes Uncle Ernie to guide you to your very own machine

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Family Dynamics

Another unedited excerpt of Wrecking Ball
_____________

Family Dynamics

I am estranged from most of my mother’s side of the family by choice. This was a decision I arrived at gradually after years of unpleasant, tension-filled holiday gatherings. I have warm feelings for one set of my cousins, but they have always lived miles and miles away. Though we get along, I realized long ago that we will likely never be close. Such is the case with many families these days who are separated by distance.

My mother is the youngest of four. Her mother was 40 and her father was 45 when she was born. She’s always believed that her conception was an accident, though my father, citing my Grandfather, denies this. My Grandparents wanted a big family and got it. Mom wanted to have four children of her own, but labor with her third child, my youngest sister, was so difficult that she decided to stop there.

Analyzing my mother’s family a bit more, two brothers came first. They are of a very different generational mindset. My mother grew up idolizing The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, and her much older brothers idolized Elvis and Roy Orbison. They came of age at a time of tough-guy 1950’s masculinity, wherein sensitivity and emotional honesty in men was simply not allowed. Neither of them easily fit well into such inflexible gender roles, but this was a topic never brought up in casual conversation.

I do grant them the benefit of the doubt on a few points. My uncles grew up in total and complete poverty, even having no choice but to live in public housing for a time, early in their lives. The ironies are incredible. One might think they might have a greater regard for the poor. Instead, the two became staunch Republicans in their adult lives. I imagine the indignity of being that poor, in addition to that economically needy made enough of an impression that they sought to make sure it never happened again.

Accordingly, money is their God. They both resolved that profit was the most important life goal of all, and went after it. They devised elaborate strategies to accumulate wealth, though with one of my uncles, dumb luck created a windfall profit more than effort alone. Like George W. Bush, he has had a history of bad investments and putting his money into companies that ultimately failed. Each of my mother's brothers has become a millionaire and, in some ways, also a miser.

They’ve never seemed like real people to me. That’s the best way I can possibly put it. One of my uncles has a very flat affect and a bland personality. His only discernible hobby an interest aside from fishing is college football. A heavy drinker, I’ve often wondered whether his alcohol consumption is meant to disguise feelings of insecurity he is unable to express. When drunk, his no-nonsense, gruff demeanor changes. He becomes a silly child, often embarrassingly goofy.

The other tries his hand at a charm offensive, but is an insufferable name-dropper. He talks behind everyone else’s back. I can’t trust his opinion, because I know it’s self-serving. He’s been especially cruel to my mother, but she has always allowed him into her life. I am not so forgiving and never will be.

I introduce family for a reason. I’ve always felt a sense of lacking when it comes to my relatives. At times, I’ve been envious of others who have large extended families and lots of love to spread around. My models and guides in this area have been sorely lacking. None of us chooses the time and place of our birth, nor the other defining characteristics that shouldn’t matter, but these details are imperative to how our lives will progress.

Wednesday, January 09, 2013

House of Cards (Acapella)

It is always pleasant to be able to use the echo effect on the multitrack recorder. I decided to limit this recording to singing alone.




I don't want to be your friend
I just want to be your lover
No matter how it ends
No matter how it starts

Forget about your house of cards
And I'll do mine
Forget about your house of cards
And I'll do mine

Fall off the table,
Get swept under
Denial, denial

The infrastructure will collapse
Voltage spikes
Throw your keys in the bowl
Kiss your husband goodnight

Fall off the table,
And get swept under

Denial, denial
Denial, denial

Harsh Truths from Malcolm X



Extremely offensive on multiple levels, but very thought-provoking. Recorded at the Harlem Unity Rally.

The speech begins like this: "The same white liberals who used to praise you for your patient, non-violent approach have now become openly impatient and violent themselves in defense of their own jobs. Not only in the South, but also in the North. Right here in New York City."

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

When Our Identities Challenge Us



“The one who received the seed that fell on rocky places is the person who hears the word and at once receives it with joy.

But since he or she has no root, this person lasts only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, he or she quickly falls away. The one who received the seed that fell among the thorns is the person who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke it, making it unfruitful. But the one who received the seed that fell on good soil is the person who hears the word and understands it. Understanding produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown.”

-From the Parable of the Four Soils
_____

I chose to lead with this passage to underscore the challenges that belonging presents. It would be easy for us to deny a part of our identity to prevent criticism, even harsh condemnation. Tearing down by way of scorn and caustic remarks is much easier than believing. With belief comes risk and with risk comes persecution, regardless of what form this persecution takes. We may not be hanged from the neck anymore, nor thrown to the lions, but the emotional and psychological sting can be very painful indeed.

The same sort of instant rebuke arrives for me when I self-identify as both Christian and feminist. The two are not mutually exclusive but years of false prophets have planted the seed of doubt within the minds of many. It’s even fashionable to sharpen one’s one-liners and sarcastic putdowns over the years, aiming for the cleverest insult ever fashioned. The internet has amplified the volume and the number of hecklers in the crowd. Now there are more of them then one could have ever dreamed possibly.

A recent article in Quaker Life’s January/February edition speaks to this phenomenon, albeit from a religious perspective. Author David Johns portrays the complexity of basic identity, regardless of its packaging.
The question ought to emerge as a result of our mission, not as an exasperated effort to hold together an unraveling movement. On one hand is assimilation where the group takes on the characteristics and expectations of the religious world — its practices, its mythologies, its way of governance. Of course, when a group adapts in such a manner it will resemble religion-in-general sufficient to be recognizable in public.

When Quakers gather at this extreme of assimilation they more easily blend into the religious landscape avoiding the bewildering stares of onlookers. Yet, if the motivation for this extreme springs principally from a desire to belong to the spark of life in the movement, it is extinguished. The intention of belonging creates a crippling emotional dysfunction within the group. No group can thrive by simply blending in. [Emphasis mine]

At the other extreme is…identification. If assimilation typifies the tendency of some Friends, identification is the tendency of many, many more. Rather than becoming just like any other religious group, this extreme places its emphasis on being a peculiar people, a people separate and distinct, a people obsessed with distinctives and cryptic speech. Who is in and who is out and what make us distinctly us; these are the overarching preoccupations.

When these [patterns] grow organically from worship and witness they can be life giving to the group and a sign of God’s activity to those they encounter. However, as often happens at this extreme, groups place their hope and their corporate identity in peculiarities. Sooner or later they find themselves defending and protecting what may be the fruit of a life rather than living the kind of life that produces it.
Johns therefore encourages us to let our life speak in place of our labels. We are Christian because we follow the teachings of Jesus Christ. We are feminist because we live the kind of ethical, moral standards thought to be important and utterly crucial to basic human equality. Naysayers and contrarians will always exist. One of the problems with the electronic age is that it has given rise to those who use their relative anonymity to play gotcha games, or I-told-you-so.

More holds us together than separates us, but we must be willing to see the intersections without instantly rushing to a negative, harsh conclusion. We must be better than our foes, otherwise we leave ourselves open for justified, though purposefully baited criticism of us as hypocritical and sanctimonious. This approach challenges us to be better people; the high road must have its devotees. It feels momentarily triumphant to get down into the muck with our adversaries, but the joy is short-lived.

Quakers define their Testimonies individually, as they feel they apply to their own lives. Though any movement or group must specify what it is and what it is not, if only for structural reasons, one could never say that any Friend speaks for any other. My view of Simplicity, for example, means that I seek to be thrifty in my purchases and reuse as much as I can. Another Friend may take Simplicity to mean a taking a job in India to work for widespread potable water and environmental standards in a densely populated, polluted country.

Feminists could be viewed in this context as somewhat more orthodox, often insisting upon a basic understanding of specific terminology and, in some cases, an especially sharp condemnation of a few very taboo viewpoints. Could a group or movement of feminists in good conscience provide a blueprint for what defines and does not defines Feminism? Or, is its approach simply a question of strategically roped and categorized personal anecdotes, sewn together to prove an understood Truth?

I can justify being a Quaker and a feminist very easily. I apply the Testimony of Equality to mean a particularly strong emphasis upon gender fairness. Others before me, men and women, felt the same stirrings and trod the same path I have. But before any of us join forces, we must not create needless enemies predicated on misinformation. We are not as different as others may have told us we are.

Assimilate or identify? The choice is perplexing. Is there a third way, one that avoids this dichotomy? The appeal towards one side or the other may depend greatly upon circumstance and situational confrontation. If knowledge depends upon the immediate, how can we criticize others in the same situation as us?

Monday, January 07, 2013

Health Update



In two hours, I meet with a urology surgeon. She will discuss with me the pros and cons, plus the timeline of the procedure. Three month's worth of a less invasive procedure to treat overactive bladder had positive effects, but did not fix the problem. Medications have also helped, but have not been enough.

Formally called sacral nerve stimulation, the surgery would implant a contantly, albeit mild, electrical current through the sacral nerve. It is minimally invasive and has proven to be very successful. If this doesn't work, I'll need a much more invasive surgery wherein a pacemaker-like device is implanted, sending periodic electric pulses to the bladder.

I wish this had not been such a stubborn ailment, but it's been steadily worsening for at least the last six or seve

Pretty Much All Night


Roll Tide! Alabama wins third National Championship in four years!

Sunday, January 06, 2013

Quote of the Week


"Naturally, every age thinks that all ages before it were prejudiced, and today we think this more than ever and are just as wrong as all previous ages that thought so. How often have we not seen the truth condemned! It is sad but unfortunately true that man learns nothing from history."- Carl Jung

Saturday, January 05, 2013

Saturday Video



There's a broken beam inside of the big big bridge
I guess that whole thing is caving in
Maybe it is time I learn how to swim
I'll be a dolphin, I'll be a dolphin

Sometimes I think I'm breaking down
And other times I think that I'm fine
But something got into my engine
It slowed me down
Now I gotta turn this whole thing around

I'm gonna be a dolphin
Gonna be a dolphin
I'm gonna be a dolphin
Gonna be a dolphin

There's not a lot I believe anymore
I mistrust everything I had been longing for
There's not a lot that I know anymore
But I know if good bridge is burning

You gotta be a dolphin...You gotta be a dolphin
You gotta be a dolphin...You gotta be a dolphin

Sometimes I think you're crazy and sick
And other time I think you're so fine
But I know I'm in danger 'cause you feel like a stranger
And I know that something's going give

When I dive into that ocean
God I hope I don't sink like a stone -- no
I'm gonna move like a dolphin
There may be a lot I don't know about you

But I know if I don't swim
I'm already drowning
'Cause a broken bridge
Is a broken bridge

So I swim to you now
Here I come... Here I come
Here I come... Here I come
I'll be a dolphin

There's a broken beam inside of the big big bridge
I guess that this time I'll have swim (I'll swim...)

Friday, January 04, 2013

I'd Die Babe




You give me loving like crazy
You make my daisy grow high
You treat me good, so I'm lazy
You make me feel so alive

You get me feeling I'm okay
And I've got nothing to hide
And if you're leaving for a while, babe
You know, I'd die babe, babe, I'd die

I tell you I love you
I'll tell you no lies
I tell you I need you
And I want you by my side

Used to be cold and lonely
You came along with your smile
And if you leave now, I'll cry, babe
You know, I'd die babe, babe, I'd die


Used to be cold and lonely
You came along with your smile
And if you leave now, I'll cry, babe
You know, I'd die babe, babe, I'd die


For Religious Seekers

This document was written by my Meeting specifically for newcomers. I enclose it here to mark a contrast between good intentions and the way of the world. Friends do not often elucidate well who they are and what they believe.
____________


For Religious Seekers

A Quaker Perspective

Are you looking for an understanding of God that is viable in today's world? We invite you to join with us in our continuing search for Divine leadership in our lives. We believe that God is very much present and eager to be alive to everyone, anywhere, any time and in any way. All that is needed is for us to be open to listening and talking with the Divine.

Are you looking for others who believe that we need not limit ourselves through secularism and materialism? We encourage you to identify with us in our belief that purposeful living is fundamentally spiritual, permeating every aspect of our lives.

Do you desire support in seeking out the precious nature of every individual? We welcome you as a fellow seeker in a religious society which believes that something of the Divine is implanted within each of us at birth. While we treasure individuality, we find it best tempered through the wisdom of the group, which seeks Divine Guidance.

Are you seeking haven in a world which may not be in pace with your needs? We invite you to our fellowship as we strive to simplify our lives and gain a sense of inner peace for living in times like these.

Do you wish to join with us to help in finding ways to implement the historic peace testimony of Friends "to oppose all wars and preparation for wars? "We would welcome your active support as we counter the military might of our own and other nations.

Do you wish to discover how you, as an individual, can help to create a better world? We would like to point to the many projects in which Quakers are involved - locally, nationally and internationally -in our aspirations to bring freedom, justice and more creative living to people in many places. We encourage you to work with us in some of these important undertakings.

Do you seek a religious home, without creeds or required statements of belief? Then join with us. Friends offer you a creedless place of worship and religious community. While there is much that binds us together, Quakers stress the primacy of the individual 's genuine experience of the Divine and recognize that this experience can be described in many ways. (Perhaps our unique insight is to trust one another to find our own relationship rather than establishing an absolute.)

Do you desire to wait upon God in an expectant silence without the presence of intermediaries? We invite you to join with us in meeting for worship where we do not have the complications and diversions of ritual and programs. We believe that in such periods of quiet waiting we can be open to spiritual resources which will enable us to live more calmly, more compassionately and more creatively in this chaotic age.

Do you wish to reclaim the best in the Judeo-Christian tradition? Help us rediscover Jesus of Nazareth as a great revealer of the grandeur of God and to explore the truths in other religions.

Are you looking for meaningful spiritual community? We invite you to join with us. Friends point out that our meetings are intended as homes away from home -caring communities, spiritual fellowships, societies of friends.

As you come to know us better, you will realize that this is an idealistic statement of Friends. It is what we aim to accomplish, not what we are always able to achieve.

You will discover our shortcomings, our faults and our failures. We are not saints. Becoming a Quaker brings with it no halo, no plaque for perfection, no passport for heaven. It is more like a learner 's permit for the lifelong journey toward truth and fulfillment -a journey made more meaningful and easier by the companionship of other seekers. 

Thursday, January 03, 2013

From the Vaults



Well you know sometimes it gets so hard
And everything, everything don't seem to rhyme
I take a walk out in my backyard and go
Do do loo do do, do do loo do do

Waiting for the sun to shine
And you know sometimes it gets so painful
Just like talking to yourself
When everything don't seem to have no rhyme or reason we all go
Do do loo do do, do do loo do do
Waiting for the sun to shine

We move along
Keep singing our song
Straight to your heart like a cannonball
La la ti da, la la ti da
Doo do loo do do
(Waiting for the sun to shine)

Well you know, everyday we hear it through the grapevine
That's why I'm so tired of hearing it through the grapevine anymore
Because you hear it through the grapevine
It's just a dirty rotten waste of time, we go
Do do loo do do do do loo do do
While waiting for the sun to shine

We move along
Keeping singing our song
Straight to your heart like a cannonball
La la ti da, la la ti da

We move along
Keep singing our song
Straight to your heart like a cannonball

We move along
Keep singing our song
Straight to your heart like a cannonball

We move along
Keep singing our song
Straight to your heart like a cannonball
Straight to your heart like a cannonball
Straight to your heart like a cannonball
Straight to your heart like a cannonball

Wednesday, January 02, 2013

Back to the Psych Ward

Another unedited excerpt of Wrecking Ball
_____________

I last visited the ward in March 2008. Upon arrival, I stayed for nearly three weeks. Fortunately, I have not needed hospitalization since then. That was nearly five years ago. This is one of the longest stretches of relatively stable mental health I’ve ever experienced. I am extremely thankful.

I’m grateful for this sustained period of good news, but for a while, I dealt with one crisis after another.  My year-long experiment with living in Atlanta ended in disaster. In the last few months before my departure, I spent hours filing paperwork and planning for a court battle. Along the way, I received a crash course on the criminal justice system.

As I have written before, my former girlfriend had been obsessive enough, following our breakup, to invade my privacy via e-mail. She hacked into my e-mail account, then had all my incoming e-mail forwarded to her own inbox. It took me a long while to get over the emotional shock of legal warfare, or the feeling of betrayed trust. The proceedings continued for three months after we had broken up.

Nothing about the process is easy. A police report must first be filed. This meant I had to call the police over to my apartment and explain myself in detail. Additional conversations with law enforcement followed. These pointed me towards other legal necessities. Fees must be paid. Paperwork must be filled out in exacting detail. I had forms to complete at two separate locations.

A copy of the police report had to be obtained, at my expense. To have rudimentary protection against my ex, I needed first to file an order of protection. A judge decides whether or not to sign off on the validity of a charge based on no more than two minutes’ worth of discussion. A person is rushed in and then rushed out. My accusation was not thought serious enough to merit the granting of an order of protection.

While waiting in line, I small-talked with a woman whose boyfriend was physically violent towards her person and her property. He’d destroyed many of her possession out of spite and, along with the physical battery, she was terrified of him. I hope she obtained what she needed. During our talk, she automatically believed that the legal system was going to fail her. He’d gotten away with so much before, what was to say he wouldn’t get away with it once more?

Legal proceedings drained me and I had little or nothing to show for them. I returned at their deflating conclusion to Birmingham because I had nowhere to go. By January of that year, I took a job at a local public library. I thought that this would be a respite from the gossipy, problematic workplace present in Atlanta, but instead it was just as bad in different way.

Poor leadership from up top was the most substantial problem. Employees got away with murder when no one held them accountable for their elitist and exclusionary attitudes. Drama queens and bad attitudes were found all over the place. By the end of my employment, I had an intense manic episode that led some to believe that I was dangerous. They didn’t really know me. If they had, they wouldn’t have reached for that conclusion in the first place. But then again, they’d never made it their business to know me.

As I’ve written about in more detail, a trespassing order was drawn up and served to me by two plain-clothed police officers. They’d called me at my house requesting to know when I was going to my latest psychiatrist appointment. One doesn’t (or shouldn’t) lie to the police, so accordingly I told them the date and time, which happened to be scheduled for a couple days later. I wasn’t expecting them to dramatically interrupt my appointment, but they did.

I still had enough of my mental faculties to threaten a lawsuit in their presence. The two of them looked extremely nervous when I shook their hands and looked them squarely in the face with confidence. Confidence will only take a person so far. My parents did not think the case would go anywhere and were not willing to help me with legal fees. Their financial assistance was crucial. Had I won, a substantial settlement could have been a possibility.

They, however, believed that my mental illness would have been used by the defense as a trump card. Regardless of the eloquence of my argument, the case would have been dismissed because of my psychiatric history. And it may very well have turned out that way. I wanted to fight City Hall, and learned, for the first time, the frustration of not being powerful enough or wealthy enough to obtain justice.  

My illness continued to worsen. Back to the ward I went. While there, my condition began to stabilize after very powerful drugs at high levels were administered to me.  I became enamored with a much younger woman. I usually ignored anyone who was more than five years younger than me, because I’d learned that the two of us usually existed on alternate planes of existence. Much to my surprise, she wowed me with her intelligence and her beauty. She was also a redhead, a physical quality long attractive to me.

I’m not sure if we will receive a satisfactory answer if we analyze what appeals to us most. I know what I like and I know what will always turn my head. It may not always be a matter of nurture and environment. Red-headed people combined with their pale skin, have always seemed striking to me. As humans, we love analysis and conjecture, but from time to time the simplest answer is the complete truth.

She was a waste of her great talent and intellect. Though a genius in IQ, she was dangerous close to flunking out of undergrad. Through my own undercover Facebook work, I discovered months later she’d dropped out of the university and taken sporadic classes at a community college. Last I heard, she had never finished her diploma and was quite content to be a waitress at a nightclub.

I met many such people like her while on the psychiatric unit. The ones who hid their diagnosis and true emotional state, like her, were often the most problematic cases. While in conversation with other patients, I always volunteered what the psychiatrist had pronounced about me, and talked openly about the cocktail of  prescription drugs used to treat my condition. Most people were grateful to speak with someone who knew their pain and the daily complications involved with treatment.

A hospitalization before that, I met another patient who was convinced she wasn’t supposed to be there. Families can, reprehensibly, try to stuff a person who does not consent to treatment in a psych ward. Often the family is seeking a respite from his or her care. Another patient and I tried to obtain additional information from her, to see if we could help.

What we were told was especially vague. We were sympathetic and sought to find ways to have her discharged, if she was stuck there against her will and without any need to remain on the ward. But despite her protests to the contrary, we learned eventually that she was quite sick indeed.