FOR COLLARED BOYS WHO HAVE CONSIDERED SUICIDE/ WHEN THE RAINBOW AIN'T ENUF

My brother in Albuquerque got out by joining the air force, and his daddy shouted at him about that decision. My brother in Seattle got out by joining the army; he was expected to join the army as he'd discussed it with his guidance counselor, and came from an army family. My brother in Wichita got out by joining the navy because he simply wanted to see the world; I enlisted in the Corps because I needed a job, and my soon-to-be brothers Don and Mark said I'd make a good Marine. And we all did the same work, felt the same fear, wondered "Did I do the right thing?" as we lay on our cots enduring a humid, no-see-'em night.

Life is all about perception, or so I am told. If you wish to change your life, simply change your perception, and you're gold.

Yeah, it's gonna be one of those essays, bwar har har.

By now, it is old news that young queer folks commit suicide at an alarming rate; several examples appeared recently in the media. There was, of course, a corresponding push fomented by right-thinking people everywhere: tell our youth It Gets Better (Dan Savage, the originator of this push, was naturally awed that So Many People Took It So Much To Heart.) But I am compelled to dissent: It Gets Better is simply another Just Say No (and if you make fun of one variety of Just Say No, you fooken better make fun of every other variety -- Safe Sex is Hot Sex, wherein we Just Say No to condomless sex; the original Just Say No to drugs, guns, gangs, what have you; and Just Say No to suicide). If one Just Say No campaign is specious and simplistic, then all Just Say No campaigns are specious and simplistic. That's kinda the point of Just Saying No; it does not take anything about one's particular life and life circumstances into account. Just Say No is another example of the Positive Thinking (i.e. Magical Thinking) which is so detestable; if one Just Says No, one won't even think about drugs, let alone experiment with drugs, no matter the amount of social pressure, anxiety or self-loathing one experiences. Beset by bullies, wracked with suicidal thoughts? Simply change your perception and you will change your life.

And now, even the San Francisco Giants have contributed to this project. Sigh.

This is the part that sucks: you can't construct another's maturity or reasoning for him. When you do, it's called paternalism, and paternalism destroys another's humanity. What, after all, did Tyler Clementi accomplish when he jumped from the George Washington bridge, if not change his perception?

C'mon: the world is a difficult place (okay, okay -- an indifferent place), but, on the whole, it ain't such a bad place to let your sexual orientation be known (Uganda, duh, but I'm talking about the United States). For every Tyler Clementi, there are hundreds and thousands of non-Tyler Clementis. Personally, I think his suicide had more to do with his privacy being invaded; such invasion is humiliating, regardless of sexual orientation. If our lives are so damned public, as they often are to ridiculous lengths on social networking sites -- let us recall Clementi announced his intention on Facebook -- no wonder his roommate (and his roommate's gal-pal) believed it perfectly legitimate to run a nanny-cam. (And no wonder so many dorks believe they are entitled to grab my ass on the street: after all, baggy Carhartt's, green skivvy shirts and combat boots constitute a highly provocative, tawdry, come-hither look which disables an observer's higher cerebral functioning and positively screams, "My body is community property, and I'll be disappointed if you don't cop a feel.")

Thing is sometimes, it doesn't get better. Sometimes, it just fooken sucks. Frankly, that's okay, too. Personally, I'd rather know people who think and feel than people who do neither, or people who behave as if all their thoughts and feelings are "positive" because such folk are pod people. If it can be said that a feeling is in want of anything, that thing is expression, acknowledgement. Ideas, being ideas, need to be bounced around, cogitated. A buddy's "negativity" won't scare me away; if it ever does, I should hope that buddy would shoot me. Okay, maybe not shoot me, but I sure as fook hope he'd tell me that I've neglected to bring a few of my better angels along, and that I need to sit my sorry ass down and fooken listen to him, let him get some shit off his chest, that it's part of the whole getting-by-with-a-little-help-from-your-friends thing.

Telling the etherized and anonymous world that It Gets Better romanticizes the issue of suicide. It does not lead by example (there's no real hope that such a message may reach one in crisis); it refers too much to oneself ("Look at me; it got better for me, so it'll get better for you, too!"). It smacks of vanity. It may make one feel as though one has done something beneficial -- rather like hordes of fundamentalist Christians believe praying for homosexuals (usually done from the safety of some distance, either geographical, theoretical, or theological) is beneficial. Good for you -- you can tell me you prayed. We shall bow our heads and march in solemn solidarity with the heroically oppressed who murdered themselves. We shall tell them -- after the fact -- of our concern, of our care. The most useful gay man is a dead gay man.

At this point, alas, my thoughts turn to silence, although courtesy dictates a suggestion or two about what else one might do to improve the situation. So -- volunteer for a suicide hotline; get involved with a gay/straight alliance at an area school. Ask young queer folks what they believe they need, what their thoughts are on the issue. (And if they don't have thoughts or opinions, push 'em to have thoughts and opinions; I know, I know, that's my solution for everything.) They may have some good ideas. They may have some thoughts on empty gestures, too.

My brother in Albuquerque: him and his daddy never made amends. My brother in Seattle was killed shortly after an east Texas cowboy driving his Humvee on a routine convoy though the Green Zone spied an innocent and IED-free berm and said, "Hey, y'all, watch this!" My brother in Wichita served a tour in Afghanistan; he's touring the western Pacific now, and I recently had the privilege of reminding myself why I love him like a brother when he visited me on leave. I served a good long time, got more out of it than I ever imagined or wanted, and I learned, among other things, that I make a damn good buddy to myself when I want to, and that I always did enjoy a good, invigorating chase scene. (I've also always wanted to fight an impossible battle against incalculable odds, but that's another story for another time.),

VOX CLAMAVIS IN DESERTO

I've been biding my time and holding my tongue. Odd approach for a blog, sure, but I like to think of myself as a man who applies reason to his opinions, works them through, a man who challenges himself. And it's time to let loose.

I am sick and fooken tired of the way the gay community -- not LGBT community, not GLBT-which-mysteriously-transitioned-to-LGBT-for-an-unspecified-reason-in-the-'80s, not LGBTTQQ cuz, well, go fook yourself -- comports itself. Particularly in the case of public sex and same-sex marriage. Alas, the two topics are related. (If you choose to take umbrage at what you label uninclusive language, go to hell. Here's a label for ya: narcissist.)

When the fella in charge of Up Your Alley (AKA Dore Alley Street Fair) and Folsom Street Fair recently stated that he had no idea of public sex acts taking place during the events, he lied. Just like Clarence Thomas lied when he said he had no opinion on Roe v. Wade. Indeed, one of the major reasons for Dore Alley and Folsom Street is the opportunity both present for public sex acts. (Those who attend these events naked are just as disingenuous and dissembling; they maintain that "the human body is a beautiful thing", "the law says I may be nude in public as long as I do not behave in a lewd and lascivious manner", "if you say I can't be nude in public, you're sex-negative and judgmental", but one never sees them nude in the frozen food aisle at Safeway -- only street fairs. If one limits one's exposure thusly, if one limits one's exposure solely to adult-themed street fairs, where there is no opportunity for others to avert their eyes if they do not wish to be unwitting voyeurs, one makes oneself, de facto, an exhibitionist, which is lewd and lascivious. In other words, if you yank out your dick in public simply so that others may see it, you're behaving in what is, de facto, a lewd and lascivious manner. You force others into a voyeuristic role; you deny them their right to refrain from participation; indeed, you deny them their right to choose to participate. It ain't like they can change the channel.)

Writers in the gay press commonly celebrate the availability of public sex at the Dore Alley and Folsom Street Fairs; as Eric Rofes writes in 'Reviving the Tribe', "Gay liberation was ignited by a drive to free the erotic power between men. Activist pioneers were advocating not solely affection and 'domestic partnerships,' but the right to be fucked." Sadly, gay liberation has not truly evolved to encompass relationship. (Though it is not germane, one of my favorite quotes from 'Reviving the Tribe' relates another highlight of those early gay lib years, that they heralded " the discovery of vast, uncharted erotic zones (e.g., the nipple as sex organ)". Thank god those queens came along to discover nipples on men; clearly four million years of human sexual expression had forced them into hiding.)

Same-sex marriage aims to set a standard for relationship. That standard is not heterosexual (if one believes so, one succumbs to various fallacies of reification). It is not heterosexual because no one can own marriage. Marriage is a legal contract; it does not exist in some Platonic heaven, high atop a marble pedestal. Marriage has always been a civil matter; the church didn't have a written record of a marriage ceremony until well into the fifth century. Marriage remains a civil matter; a clergyman does not marry a couple -- that clergyman is merely deputized by the state to sign the marriage license that state issues. Marriage, as a sacrament, is an understanding wholly invented by the church, and has nothing to do with any civil law regarding marriage. So there's yer separation of church and state; shut the fook up and read on.

But the gay community eschews standards of any kind, save for one, and it may be expressed in a multitude of egocentric slogans: Don't judge me, I'm only speaking my truth, I am who I am, I am my own greatest creation. When a bloc of people eschew standards on principle, when, as a group, they decry and belittle any self-examination or self-critique, they are not a community; they are a mob. Communities require standards; communities are built upon standards. Mobs behave as they choose and justify their acts with jingoism and slogans. Say NO to Prop H8. Thirteenly not. AIDS changed everything. This is clearly a lesson queers learned from those who oppose them.

Whenever you behave in a manner which calls attention to yourself rather than your cause, you are narcissistic. Activism -- any activism -- requires a certain transparency of self, a certain modesty, a setting aside of oneself in order to serve one's cause. If, in your call to activism, you call attention to yourself instead of your cause, you create a spectacle, not a movement. You glory in your martyrdom -- how put upon you are! Paranoia becomes your community, as everything is translated into terms of Us versus Them.

Those evil Republicans. They hate us. I want to wear mascara and lipstick, and parade around in a merry widow, fishnet stockings and platform shoes while they watch just to show them how much I don't care. Those hypocritical Christians. They hate us. I want to dress as a nun in white face and fright wig, essentially disguising myself, and beg communion from the archbishop and endure his refusal just to show them how much they hate us. Those wretched, sex-negative, self-loathing queens. They hate us and themselves. I want to suck as much dick as I can just to show them how much I don't care. Because I am only speaking my truth, I am who I am, I am my own greatest creation, don't you judge me.

Clearly this writer has issues. And by this writer, I mean me. Just keep reading.

Now, if gay folks want same-sex marriage, really and truly want marriage, they must, as a class, grow up. They must realize that fast-food sex is not liberation. They must set and abide by community standards. Now, I'm not saying that if one wishes to discern the number of cocks he can take in his ass in rapid succession, he must avoid doing so. I am saying that he must stop fooling himself with the excuse that taking 27 cocks up his ass in a matter of hours is a celebration of his sexuality. It is not a celebration of one's sexuality; it is a celebration of one's Teflon butthole.

If liberation is to mean anything, then gay men must, as a class, treat their partners, sexual and lifetime, with simple respect. That, as a class, they must no longer say, "If your boyfriend isn't working out, you just find a new one." That treating a sexual partner with simple respect means screening yourself for STDs, that the rules for common human interaction don't change when you visit Key West or Palm Springs (where the syphilis rate is 38 percent), that said rules don't change when you walk in to a gay bar, that walking in to a gay bar doesn't mean you may grab or grope anyone you please (it's not a compliment; it's sexual harassment). That the steam room at your gym is not a venue for sex. That, upon learning the man you're speaking to is partnered, it is juvenile (not to mention outright rude) to ask, "Do you guys mess around?"

Here's the biggest reason why: if a gay person believes that the sex one has is related to liberation, he defines himself as his enemy does -- that he is defined by his behavior, by the acts he commits. That would mean there truly are no homosexual persons, only homosexual acts, homosexual behaviors. If sex were all there is to liberation, then the more sex one gets, the more liberated one is. How liberated is a closet case in a bathhouse? He gets what he wants without having to answer to the greater community; does such a one deserve my respect? Deserve my support? Deserve my brotherhood? No, such a one does not, because he demands I indulge him while making excuses for him. A closet case asks that one assist him in the maintenance of his lie. Near as I can tell, that's pretty fooken codependent.

The call to liberation did not change with AIDS. Saying "AIDS changed everything" is just like saying "9/11 changed everything." The World Trade Center tragedy did not change a damn thing; you may look elsewhere for details of this argument. Similarly, AIDS did not change a damn thing; the gay yet Puritanical party-party-party ethic (the belief that somehow, somewhere, someone may not be having a good time) started by Stonewall didn't change; ultimately, queers were simply bummed that the party had been interrupted. Similarly, the World Trade Center tragedy merely interrupted the go-go-go-let-the-good-times-roll-dot-com craze. How dare anyone rain on our parade. How dare those terrorists kill our buzz. OMG, what if they blow up the Golden Gate Bridge? What would I do? What would happen to me? Such questions demonstrate how limited your thinking is, how limited by your own prejudices and judgments. Bigots (i.e. terrorists, fags, fundamentalists of every stripe, anyone who rationalizes his opinions by use of fallacy) will be us always. When one fights against discrimination, one does not work to enlarge the circle of what is acceptable; one works to erase the circle entirely. One works to ensure that everyone has his humanity recognized.

Marriage, in part, recognizes that fundamental humanity. Wanting marriage while maintaining that public sex is one's social and historical prerogative is counter-productive, mendacious, fallacious and dumb. Believing that straight folks somehow subvert the system, that straight folks get away with public sex -- spring break, for example -- is off-topic. If you truly do not care what straight folks do or think of you, why bring 'em up? If you want same-sex marriage, fooken stay focused.

Politics is the art of the possible, unquote. Bigots will be with you always; the point is to ensure equal protection and consideration under the law. That's tolerance. If you want a homophobe to love yer queer li'l ass, a-shimmer with lip gloss and body glitter, you are hopeless. Under civil law, there is no reason for a government to compel one to love another; indeed, such a law should never exist. To believe that one should be loved by the world at large for who one is, is to engage in thought so selfish, so monomaniacal, that it's monstrous.

Now, there is a solution -- present a united front against those who back Prop 8 in California. If you say to yourself, "I don't know why any self-respecting gay person would even want to get married," shut the hell up and join the effort. Realize that you need to do more than just rally the flags in your neighborhood. You gotta go from Frisco to the Central Valley, to Fresno, to Inyokern, to El Centro, and meet, talk to the actual voting public. So you stopped traffic at Van Ness and Golden Gate; I'm sure Obama noticed you personally. For once in your life, pretend there's an existence larger than yours, and admit that waiting for someone else to do the good work on your behalf is the same as doing nothing at all.

Quit lying to yourself about those nights spent at Blow Buddies. "I just had to have cock after cock after cock after cock; it had been building inside me all day long; the pressure was too strong, and I had to have it," paints you as a victim of your own desires, desires which you can control (unless you get some sort of bizarre kick out of believing you, as a homosexual, are pathological, though the DSM IV says otherwise). Quit lying to yourself about the nature of lies; quit lying to yourself that everyone lies in bars and online; quit using that as justification for your own mendacity. Quit thinking that you are your own greatest creation. You did not create yourself; something much larger than you did. All you're capable of is adorning yourself. That something much larger than you created you is all the reason one need in order to deserve respect and equality.

Okay, I'm done, at least for now. No doubt similar entries will follow. This is not a particularly happy end for me; this is more like a manifesto than an essay. So take what works, leave the rest and keep thinking about it for a few more days; if you're lucky, it'll make sense to you. One must never underestimate the audience of the confused.

For those who hated this post from the git-go, congratulations on reading this far. Tell us all about your hate, all about your life of fear and sacrifice. Then walk onto southbound 101, sit, and wait for a yuppie-filled SUV to hit you. I can think of no better demise for one who went through his life in abject terror of not being misunderstood.