Monday morning

[that was yesterday....]

Reading a poem. 'the Queens' by Stephen Tapscott.

Whimsical look at gay culture.

I identify with it. Despite the yawning differences in our cultures. There is something endearingly familiar with the emotion described, the posturing, the yearnings and fulfilments of a people together and apart at the same time.

Sometimes it is kind of a wonder how similar we can all be. And, how different. Surely we are more alike than we can ever think ourselves to be? As human beings.

Is Monday morning. And, I am recovering from the weekend.

Was interesting, to say the least. Life is a turbulent river, with twists and turns that may seem pretty ordinary. Or not.

Friday evening, we went to a bar. Saturday was, kind of solitary. Sunday afternoon, beach and eye candy ogling, then 'the' bar. I, we were already high. And the burden of Monday morning a shadow on more enjoyment.

I remember dancing, dancing, holding onto my mate. I remember wondering how out I, and we could be in Uganda. But, there was an alcoholic haze that kind of dulled the impressions. Loud music, the shadows deep. The guys who kind of flitted in and out of them. And, of course the conversations, and flirting.

Managed to leave early. With my mate. Thankfully, he didnt go overboard because some unlucky guy made a pass at moi [sigh, sigh, sigh...] Tapscott puts it like '-the practice/ the disco, the visual flick of desire,/ the shock of being wanted:'

And, indeed it is. Both exhilarating, and conforting, an affirmation that we are, a people, and desirable in others eyes. Even when the others are like us...! No, was not going to, but I say it, fellow pariahs.

But now I am working from behind a curtain. Filtered glass windows, hazy. I know am fine, and good. Water, that ubiquitous solution to a night of carousing, I have taken enough of it to neutralise some of the effects. The sleep I will have to make up for, later.

And, my mind, that ever restless agent of thought, made me realise that, yes, I do care deeply, passionately about these people.

We are a people. A subset of the whole. We are a minority, will never become a majority. No, we don't, and cant recruit. We fear, and loath ourselves, sometimes... we love and hurt ourselves, each other. But, we are a people, a community, an identity that differs and gels with the rest of the 'others'. And, for us, maudlin as it sounds, I will do much.

Not for a vague, ill defined us, but for the individuals. The guy with HIV on drugs, deeply closeted, and trying to hide the struggles. The kid who comes out and blossoms, finding life an unseemly feast of riches. And the lovers, the many lovers, who reward our senses.

Whew, I will never be a Whitman. Die trying????!!!!!

Hope your day is good, fellow human being.

gug