Blac Gurlz Ink - 2009 A Year in Reveiw

Well its December 27, 2009 and as I sit in the quietness of my space I began reflecting on the year and all the amazing adventures that Ive gone on in my endeavor to achieve the goals I set for Blac Gurlz Ink.

Spring Opara, Owner Blac Gurlz Ink Greeting Cards & Gifts

From day one the support has been simply amazing as family, friends and strangers came on board to assist in propelling Blac Gurlz Ink through…again…an amazing year! And to them I offer up my most heart felt “THANK YOU”. Without their support, the achievements made would not have been possible and for this I know that I am blessed.

One of my dearest friends mentioned to me that considering the year, being grateful/thankful is all that I can be and with that said I wanted to blog about Blac Gurlz Ink’s 2009 Achievements so that all involved can see what they contributed to in the course of helping to bring this dream to fruition.

So without further ado…

Blac Gurlz Ink’s Year in Review

*Starting and operating our first year during one of the most challenging economic meltdowns since the Great Depression

*Participation in the Make Mine a Million $ Business Race (M3Race)

*Second series greeting cards, Graffiti Queers completed

The Blac Gurlz Ink Babes - Graffiti Queers Photo Shoot!

*Enrollment and completion in the Women’s Initiative Simple Steps to Success Business Intensive (Mar-Jun)

*Enrollment with the BBB

*Free Trip to New York to attend the M3Race, The First 100 Day – a symposium for the Women Business Owners

*San Francisco Pride 2009

*Monterey Pride 2009

*San Francisco Intl Gift Fair

*Butch Voices Conference – Oakland

*Sistahs Steppin Pride – East Bay Dyke March & Festival

*Castro Street Fair 2009.

Paddington Station - London

*Free trip to London to promote Blac Gurlz Ink to overseas markets via winning a contest sponsored by StartUpNation and British Airways.

*Eclipse Holiday Event

That is quite a bit of work for any business in its first year.  I am so happy in this moment and in the safety of my quietness I plan our continue…

TAKE OVER OF THE WORLD…haha! One greeting card at a time.

To all of you I send peace, prosperity and love in the coming year and I hope that you are all as excited about 2010 as I am.  Cant wait to see what the Universe has in store for me…woohoo! Im so ready for it…see you all next year!!

Spring Opara

General Partner

Blac Gurlz Ink

[Via http://blacgurlzink.wordpress.com]

T.I.T. Podcast Episode 49: A Christmas Vidcast

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Vimal Weerawansha says Sarath Fonseka's gay.

So Vimal Weerawansha (who has president’s something in his mouth) has accused General Sarath Fonseka of being homosexual. Sarath had sex with many young soldiers, he says. It seems that these days, everybody’s accusing everybody of being gay. Ranil and Mangala are traditional victims of this. I heard somebody saying Mahinda was raped the one time he was incarcerated. Besides, homosexuality and masturbation seems to be the favourite topics on Sri Lankan political stage (I wonder what must be the ladies thinking). Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s fart about who’s gay and who’s not (I care a lot about who’s lesbian and who’s not though). But people must know who they are attacking before attackin. We all know that the only problem the goverment has with Sarath, is his entering into politics. So they should be careful. A lot of soldier families still loves him and I don’t think they would love to hear that he had sex with young soldiers.

[Via http://lefroy.wordpress.com]

Welcome All!!!

Hi everyone!

My name is Michael and I am a 23-year old gay male that was diagnosed with severe ulcerative colitis in February 2008. I lived with the disease for almost a year, before finally deciding to have surgery in December 2008. I documented my journey on another blog, jpouch.net. You can read my stories on the following links:

http://www.jpouch.net/photos/boots-uc-journey/

http://www.jpouch.net/2009/04/20/boots-uc-journey-part-2/

I started out using that blog and it was a GREAT resource for people living with the disease and contemplating surgery. I got a lot of information, because I was able to talk with people that had lived with it, and also had surgery with a multitude of results. It also let you know what to expect before and after, which can get rid of a lot of confusion. The only thing that still confused me, was that I am gay and was looking to see how it affected gay individuals. I searched the internet up and down, only to find minimal results. I did get through to someone on jpouch.net, and he helped me answer a lot of questions, but there were still so many I had.

Since posting my story on jpouch.net, I’ve had many other gay people (more than I thought) contact me, or comment on my stories saying how it was such a relief to find someone else gay and going through this disease. That inspired me to start my own blog on being gay living with digestive diseases, or living post-surgery. It is a totally different perspective for gay people (gay men mostly), because we don’t just use our intestines for digestive purposes. It can be a dramatic lifestyle change, and I know that was the NUMBER ONE issue for me when I was sick. I had a partner for over two years when I got sick and it put a serious strain our relationship, and lead to the end of it. It was also hard for my family to understand where I was coming from, so I hope this site can be a support for family members as well.

I have done much research on this topic, as to what to do before and after surgery, what kind of sexual practices can you do, how do you psychologically face living with a disease that makes you feel immensely unattractive. So I ask that you use this site to get answers from me or other people who have been through similar situations. I would also like to post polls to see how people are affected by certain issues. This is a totally open topic blog, and you may ask anything you like, we are not discriminate, and there can be no topic too taboo. You may also be anonymous if you like. If you want to speak with me personally and identify yourself to get my perspective, you can e-mail me at Booties4986@aol.com. I will help you out to the best of knowledge, and if I can’t provide an answer, I will find one for you.

This is an issue we need to bring into the light, and I ask for your help! All members of the LGBT, heterosexual, or curious community are welcome to visit and post, I hold no discriminations and believe we are all here to make our lives healthier and happier. Let the fun begin!!!

[Via http://gaydigest.wordpress.com]

Stanley Tucci.

I love Stanley Tucci. Look at this rugged piece of man meat:

Hotter than a stiff cock!

He was fantastic in The Devil Wears Prada:

look at this guy.

And adorable as Meryl Streep’s over-sexed, super short husband:

It's always been Julia.

I love that he is short, that he can rock round glasses, and also that he got to make out with Meryl in Julie and Julia. JEALOUS.

[Via http://dearbloginheaven.wordpress.com]

androgyny lollipop

katie sketch

former front(wo)man for “the organ” and all around musical dynamo. have you heard her sing? well if you haven’t I recommend you go to youtube this instant and thoroughly stalk her old band. if you already partake in this activity, good for you. me too.

the video below is not anything to see her sing, but she’s in it…in little shorts..so watch it, dammit!

ok, I’m done…for now. here’s a couple more to ogle.

[Via http://taschkaturnquist.wordpress.com]

Tolerance is a crock. What we need is equality.

The Tampa International Gay and Lesbian Film Festival has been in town these past two weeks, and it’s a time of celebration. We should not only be celebrating the films themselves, but celebrating the love that goes into the making of them. These are real people with real lives. This is someone, somewhere’s story.

There was also the National Equality March in Washington D.C. last weekend. Tens of thousands of gay and straight people from around the nation came together in unity to stand up for something important: basic human rights. Lady Gaga made a speech about the nature of equality, pointing out that “it’s not equality if it’s sometimes.” Cleve Jones, co-chairman of the march said “there’s no such thing as a fraction of equality.” It made me think about how far we’ve all come without really going anywhere.

Most people, at this point, understand what is meant by “tolerance.” As I’ve said before, this word is a crock of shit to me. So what? Joe Republican from Midwest, USA with his 2.3 children – that’s his son Timmy, his daughter Sally, and his limbless torso of a child Bob – doesn’t openly call the effeminate Starbucks barista “faggot” to his face? Is that tolerance? Or maybe it’s bigger than that. A woman can dedicate her life to her country by fighting in the military and that’s praiseworthy, but if she kisses her girlfriend when she comes home from overseas she will lose her job. Is that tolerance? I say fuck tolerance. Tolerance isn’t good enough. What we need is equality.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” This idea is supposed to be the foundation of our nation. Instead, it should read, “…all men are created equal – if you’re rich, white, and heterosexual.” I love those people that oppose gay marriage because “it ruins the sanctity of the union.” Right. Because Britney’s two-day marriage to her high school boyfriend is really the epitome of traditional family values. I don’t care about you and your husband having your bi-monthly missionary sex, that’s your business. Frankly,truestory. I’m just happy you’re gettin’ some. Why can’t you be happy for me too?

In the end, it should be about love. It should be about compassion. It should be about the collective effort to promote a greater good. “God created Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.” First of all, everyone knows Steve was hooking up with Moses when he and Jesus had their falling out. And secondly, the foundation of all Christian sects is supposed to be about one thing: agape. That’s UNconditional love.

October 16, 2009

[To see the blog at Creative Loafing, click here.]

[Via http://mightybishop.wordpress.com]

District What?

“You think Dragon and Star are cocooning, or should we invite them?” asked Boi and Ash flipped her wristfeed up to message her – no reply.  They ordered pasta with a reddish sort of a sauce – that was about the clearest you could describe it too.  It was sort of red and it was pretty cheap.  As the light vanished outside and intensified inside, the bar grew fuller and the noise level rose gently.  Sanjeev and Lori began to add a little rhythm to their bartending as the crowd swelled slowly; smiles widened and somebody put some electro-folk on the jukebox.

Star walked in, sans Dragon and plus a small posse, nodded toward their table and then moved off towards the bar.  “Isn’t that …” said Ash, “… Nila.” answered Skin.  Nila Moon, Star’s girlfriend before Dragon.  They’d lived together for a few years, the break up had been acrimonious and Boi had almost caused the band to split by sleeping with Nila a bit soon after all the shit went down.

Cigarettes and alcohol danced on their own wavelengths, full things becoming empty, empty things being moved away to be substituted by more full things and everything circled by smoky blue trails.  Jackets migrated to chair backs and hooks and the music developed muscles.  At some point, somebody headed for the dance floor and of course other people followed; another Saturday night jol had officially emerged to slice through the weekend.

There was still no sign of Dragon and Skin began to fret slightly, because there wasn’t any reply to Boi’s message either.  “She’s in the District, man,” said Ash and the others nodded.  “Well I’m not up for a jol tonight anyway,” said Skin, “I’ll make a turn there and check it out.”  She left Charmageddon on foot – downtown dockside, everything was in easy reach and the rain had disappeared.

There weren’t any lights showing at Dragon’s place, but Skin hit the buzzer anyway – there was no response.  Only one thing for it – try the District.  Back in her own home, Skin jacked in.

If dockside wasn’t big enough for you, the District was more than big enough for anyone – it wasn’t actually limitless, but it felt that way.  Skin spawned in the landing zone; she didn’t have her own place there, but she knew how to access Dragon’s.  A few commands and she was outside the door of Dragon’s home-from-home in cyberspace.

You tended never to look skywards in the District, because all there ever was, was a panoramic, edgeless and never ending Sistine style screening of the film, District 9.  There were people, of course, whose sole purpose seemed to be to do just that – sprawl out horizontally, watching the film at different angles and in different abstractions and then they’d get very tense and intellectual about it all.  Or they’d just take a lot of drugs and trip completely.

That was the end of the film reference, however; the rest of the District was covertly all about urban decay, but overtly all about whatever anybody wanted.  In Dragon’s case, that seemed to be some sort of surrealler than life hybrid of Gaudi and MC Escher’s love child.  And the interior was as optical delusioned as the exterior.  On and offline, Skin’s left hand raised, palm out to signal her access pass to the entrance mechanism.  Her experience prompted her to stand well back as the drawbridge swung open.

[Via http://scarthedyke.wordpress.com]

Letting Go

We have been conditioned to do whatever we can to hold on to what we already have while adding to it. This is most obvious in our consumption: I have more than I need to live comfortably, but I can add to that and make things even “better”. We are only willing to let go of something if we have improved upon it (replacing out old beater car with a nice new one), or if it becomes useless (a broken TV serves no purpose anymore so it goes to the garbage). It’s the same with relationships. We don’t want to let go of a friendship or relationship unless we have no more use for it. (Which sounds pretty harsh, but I think it’s true).

This is what I’m struggling with right now. I have a lot of good relationships- people at church, friends, and family. I don’t want to do something to negatively affect these relationships. I don’t want to lose them. But the truth is, sometimes in order to move forward we have to be willing to let go. In order for me to move forward as a gay Christian I have to be willing to let go of these relationships. I might lose some, some might change, and some may remain the same, but until I am willing to let them go, I cannot move forward.

But it is so ingrained in me that these things should be held to as much as possible that the thought of probably losing my church home, of having to accept a new type of relationship with my friends, of facing rejection by my family seems like too great a cost to pay to be honest about who I am. But God can’t continue the work he is doing in me until I am willing to let go of the things I cling to.

God won’t force his way in, so I have to let go to make room for him to work. And that means being honest and facing the consequences, whatever the cost.

[Via http://heterodoxalxn.wordpress.com]

Why St James Street should not become the Gay Village of Brighton

One of the great things about Brighton and Hove is the comfortable way different communities can live alongside each other. There is little strife between communities, and this is something that we should cherished and protect.

St James Street has long been identified as an area with a high concentration of facilities for lesbian women and gay men, and many from the LGBT communities choose to live in the area adjacent to the Kemptown seafront.

Recently there have been calls to have the area designated as they Gay Village of Brighton. A community at ease with itself and with others does not require such a designation. It would set a precedent that many have resisted over many years. I recall the National Front trying to label the Palmeira Square area as the “Jewish neighbourhood” in Hove. While no direct comparison would be appropriate, it does allow others with divisive and dangerous tendencies to scapegoat and target its residents.

And by designating an area for one particular section of our community, there is the unintended consequence of excluding others who have long had it as their home or those who wish to make it their home.

I want to see the whole of Brighton and Hove being the area where lesbian women and gay men feel at home, where they may feel safe and secure, and where they and their neighbours can enjoy the distinct qualities of the diverse communities who enrich this City.

[Via http://brightonpoliticsblogger.wordpress.com]

aliens my ass i want the private

I have a horrible confession to make.

I watched Aliens last night. You know the kinda shoddy 1986 movie?

Well, I admit I usually give up on these movies within the first half an hour, but last night I decided to sit right through it, and it was only for one character.

Private Vasquez. Fucking oath.

Now I know it’s just a character, but can I have one? Please?

Now if you’ve never seen the movie I’m not going to describe the plot, so let’s all just pretend we’ve seen the movie shall we?

Private Vasquez is the quick-tongued, gun-ho Marine who gets part of one of the best quotes:

Hudson: Hey Vasquez, have you ever been mistaken for a man?

Vasquez: No… Have you?

So, I’ve developed a little infatuation, but I think I’m entitled to. And I don’t know many who would argue otherwise.

And that is my confession. I sat through two hours of some bad special effects and sometimes horrid acting just for one character. Oh well, I still can’t think of anything better I could have been doing.

- Cal.

[Via http://theitidentity.wordpress.com]

East Bay adventure

So for those of you who have not heard, I’ve relocated to Hayward, CA in the East Bay.  I had a great promotional opportunity come my way with FedEx Office and I just had to take it.  In this still-troubled economy, jobs are hard to come by and significant pay bumps are even more scarce.  For those of you who know me, you know that this is something I have been contemplating for a few years now.  I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to come my way and it did.  Please don’t feel bad or hurt if you are hearing or reading about this for the first time.  It all came about in a matter of two weeks (from the time I applied to the official offer) and by the time I had three interviews and accepted the position I was off to the races.  Between packing and moving, searching for a place to live, taking care of INTEGRATION at Starline and Queer Networks, and oh yeah, Thanksgiving…it all just happened so incredibly fast.  Obviously, I have friends, family, and Queer Fresno that will bring David and I back regularly, but I’m an East Bay Queer now and I have to tell you I’m pretty stoked.  Wish me luck on my new journey and log on here for some of my excellent adventures. 

[Via http://mikesdailyblog.com]

Gay Man Poised to Lead Calif. Assembly

California is set to elect the first openly gay leader of a legislature in the United States.

By Trudy Ring, The Advocate

The California state assembly’s Democratic caucus Thursday afternoon selected John A. Perez (pictured) as assembly speaker, putting him in line to become the first openly gay person to hold such a post, in California or any other U.S. state.

Perez, a freshman lawmaker from Los Angeles, said it was “an incredibly moving experience to have the unanimous support of my colleagues,” the Los Angeles Times reported.

There still needs to be a formal vote by the full assembly; that has yet to be scheduled, according to the Times. A timetable for his replacement of incumbent speaker Karen Bass also has yet to be set. Bass helped garner support for Perez, whose chief opponent for the speaker’s post was fellow Los Angeles assemblyman Kevin De Leon.

Perez, a cousin of Los Angeles mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, has served in the assembly just one year. He could potentially serve five years as speaker, one of the longest terms possible, as assembly members are term-limited at six years.

Rick Jacobs, chair of the California political group Courage Campaign, issued a statement calling Perez “a true progressive who will lead our state during the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression.” Jacobs continued, “We’re proud that he’s the first openly gay leader of a legislature in U.S. history and we’re looking forward to working closely with Assemblymember Perez to help build a more progressive California.”

[Via http://queervisalia.com]

Rockwall Young Democrats win award from gay, lesbian political group

The Rockwall Young Democrats have just won the “Ally Group of the Year” award from the Stonewall Democrats of Dallas.

Stonewall Democrats of Dallas is an organization of politically active individuals working for the gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender community in Dallas and Texas.

Stonewall president Erin Moore said the Rockwall Young Democrats have been consistent in their support during the Pride Parade, Lifewalk and any other event or meeting.

“They usually volunteer and are very active and energetic,” she said.

We’re tying to learn more from Rockwall Young Democrats’ president Phil Borawski.

[Via http://rockwallrocks.wordpress.com]

My Lesbian Perspective

Let me be clear: I did not, initially, intend to have a blog that had anything to do with the fact that I am a lesbian. After all, my lesbian perspective is woven throughout the fabric of me, all the many other aspects of me, and ALL of whom rebel against any categorization or pigeon hole that anyone might want to stuff me into. Lesbian in a box. I can see the indexing, taxonomy issues now….is a lesbian a sub-category of sexuality, under homosexuality, or is it a sub category of female, woman, same-sex love? Or is it a first-order category unto itself? Is it an issue of gender, sex, environment, culture, politics, biology, stress in the womb, the size of a pinky finger? How many earnest gender-politico-sexual university courses can be wrung, strung out of everything lesbian? You would not pick me out as a lesbian. Not by my house, not by my clothes, not by my car, my library, my dog, my speech pattern. If you saw me, you’d register female first, some wild guess about ethnicity –in which you would always be wrong–some wild guess about age, and you’d be wrong about that too. I am invisible as a lesbian. Except for when I’m not. Living in the largest city in Canada affords me a certain freedom that many other lesbians don’t have even in North America. I can walk down the street holding hands with a woman if I choose to, and sometimes I do.

Other times, I wear little buttons, only noticeable if you really look and I will wear them going to Holt’s or out and about the city to shop or walk around: the little button that says, “I prefer girls”  or the one that has two stick girls on it with the names, “Eve + Eve”.  Watching people read the button and the dawn of recognition and the looking they try not to do, I am sorry to say, amuses me. Catching people as they grapple with their habit of stereotyping is my teeny, tiny seditious political act. When I think about being visibly lesbian, apart from the obvious of rainbow flags on everything and T-shirt declarations and girls hanging off each other, my default starting point?  It’s all about the hair. After all, hair is political and something we immediately notice and use to slot each other into those categories we hold in our mind. I’m convinced that in hair stylist school, there is that catalogue of easy-to-care for dyke haircuts, #1 – 8 around the Western world, and Philippines, and each year some little cabal sits around debating the styles to reach consensus for the community. My hair style is not in that catalogue. Other indicators? Me and my crew look to eyeglasses. Or shoes. Cool women, with an edge. Noticeable if you can see. Sometimes people know that there’s something going on, but don’t know what they know. Like the time my nephew was trying to figure out what it was that was going on between me and a woman I had introduced him to. She and I had just started to see each other. My nephew, always happy to see me, eyed this woman carefully. He was quieter than usual. I gave him his time. Then he came over to the couch, and climbed up on me, throwing his arms around me neck, his eyebrows knitted together as he searched for words to describe what he was feeling and blurted out, “You…..  you…..   you two smell like carrots!” I wanted to laugh: he was clearly trying to figure out this sense of togetherness we had this woman and me, this feeling between us, and could not find the words. “Yes we do,” I said.  The three of us hugged and he was content with the answer. Or another time, at the butcher shop with a woman I was seeing who’s hair colour and height was similar to my own. We were choosing items for dinner. The butcher looked us over and smiled.

“Sisters?” he asked.

The woman with me looked at me wondering, I suppose, if the guy used his eyes to see and how I would respond. I smiled at her.

Then I smiled at him. “No,” I said, adding, “closer than that.”

He looked a bit puzzled.  ”Twins?” he asked.

I smiled as he handed me the package of meat, raising my right eyebrow slightly, and said, “Nope. Closer than that.”

I linked my arm through hers, leaving him with his eyebrows knitted together trying to figure it out.

Those are little acts.  Not as good as some of the comedy that’s out there. Some of us are funny lesbians. Always welcome if we make people laugh. Slip our “see, we’re just like you!” into the stories of babies, and diapers and parents.  (Do NOT get me started on the night I went to see a batch of lesbian comedians and to a one, their comedy was about babies and mothering.)

The bigger acts are about addressing antiquated, discriminatory laws. And that’s important.

And yet, when I think about this equality in the eyes of the law I am not sure which gets my dander up more: equality as a woman, or as a lesbian, because let’s face it, there is still discrimination against women: we still make 71 cents for every dollar that men make (in Canada); we are NOT represented in the power brokering, decision-making systems in the world and we remain economically, politically, judicially, educationally and sexually disadvantaged the world over. And yes, amongst those women the world over, lesbians are in that mix.

And I wonder if things get better for women, does that translate into being better for lesbians? I want to say yes, but there are mad voices out there, shrill, unreasonable and hateful.

And it is at this point that I realize that my lesbian self does have a perspective, thoughts and stories, a bit of prose, and of course some poems, because what lesbian doesn’t read lesbian poetry??  That’s what I’ll be writing about once or twice a week.

[Via http://fcs2.wordpress.com]

California is going to purchase power from space!

You read that right. The California legislature recently approved a plan put forth by PG&E to purchase power from an orbiting solar panel satellite that will transmit the power back to Earth via radio transmittable energy.

From the article:

Solaren anticipates that their panels will generate 1,700 gigawatt-hours of energy per year (roughly equal to the annual consumption of 250,000 average homes) throughout the 15-year contract term made with PG&E. While an experimental project such as this seems far flung for California’s Renewables Portfolio Standard program, the agreement was approved because it remains consistent with the state’s objective of increasing its reliance on a diverse supply of renewable energy resources and of supporting renewable technologies. It should be noted that there will be no risk to PG&E, and in turn California customers, as the company is simply agreeing to purchase the power at a certain rate, if and when the project is ever up and running.

[Via http://queerstockton.com]

The Sanctity of Marriage

Ever hear of Diane Savino?  You will.  Currently, our senator from Staten Island, she recently made the nation’s radar with her speech on the sanctity of marriage, well worth viewing here:

“Diane Savino has dedicated her entire professional career towards improving the lives of working families. She began her career in public service as a caseworker for New York City’s Child Welfare Administration, providing direct assistance to abused and neglected children. …

As a labor activist, she actively and successfully campaigned for an increase in the minimum wage from $5.15 to $7.15—the first raise for New Yorkers in over a decade. …

Senator Savino has passed important legislation, including a law that ended the 5-year statute of limitation on sexual assualt, a bill establishing a task force for the prevention and treatment of cervical cancer, the Olive Oil Labeling Bill, which prohibits additives in virgin olive oil,  the Prompt Pay Bill, which ensures prompt payment to construction contractors and their employees, a cost-of-living increase in the death benefit for widows and widowers of police officers and fire fighters killed in the line of duty.

In addition, Senator Savino has championed legislation protecting hard-working New Yorkers, Paid Family Leave, which establishes up to 12 weeks of paid leave to care for a sick family member or newborn, Domestic Workers Bill of Rights, expanding basic worker protection rights to domestic workers, and a law that would limit public authorities from contracting out for services that can be performed by public employees.”

From her recent speech to the New York State Senate:

“Turn on the television. We have a wedding channel on cable TV devoted to the behavior of people on the way to the altar. They spend billions of dollars, behave in the most appalling way, all in an effort to be princess for a day. You don’t have cable television? Put on network TV. We’re giving away husbands on a game show. You can watch The Bachelor, where thirty desperate women will compete to marry a 40-year-old man who has never been able to maintain a decent relationship in his life.”

“That’s what we’ve done to marriage in America, where young women are socialized from the time they’re five years old to think of being nothing but a bride. They plan every day what they’ll wear, how they’ll look, the invitations, the whole bit, they don’t spend five minutes thinking about what it means to be a wife. People stand up there before god and man even in Senator Diaz’s church, they swear to love honor and obey, they don’t mean a word of it. So if there’s anything wrong with the sanctity of marriage in America, it comes from those of us who have the privilege and the right and have abused it for decades.”

Interview with Senator Savino here!

You can e-mail her your thanks!

savino@senate.state.ny.us

Senator Diane J. Savino

512 Legislative Office Building

Albany, New York 12247

Phone: (518) 455-2437

Fax: (518) 426-6943

~~~

Carrying on the gay day:  Meredith Baxter comes out (though she was never in)!

View all here:

Interview with Meredith Baxter at The Advocate (click here).

“…this is where I want to be because I was dead to the world in many other ways. I’ve been married three times, and I have a slew of children, but I’ve never felt that kind of connection before in that kind of awakening. It was very profound for me…

The message I get is that I’m America’s mom. And because research seems to show that people who have someone who is gay in their family — or a friend or just know someone in the community who is gay — they seem to have a more open attitude about gay and lesbian issues. So I can say I’m still that mom. I am still the same person. I’m nonthreatening, I’m very friendly, I’m accessible, and if they can say, ‘OK, well, she’s a lesbian, maybe that’s not such a scary thing. And if she can come out and say that without too much fear, then maybe I can do that.’If it makes a difference to a couple of people, then I guess it’s worthwhile. I certainly got tired of hiding to the extent that I was.

[Via http://amyking.wordpress.com]

Coming Out Info/Tips

This is just a general thing going over some of the basics of coming out. I am going to give out the warning right now in no way is this suppose to be a complete guide or a know all beat all of how a coming out thing will go. If you are a little confused or something this is referring to coming out which is slang for when a queer people tell others that they are LGBTQ.

I would say that “Coming Out” is more like a process than a single thing. I think it first starts with you. There are so many ways that this can happen. However you went about finding out that you are LGBTQ. When you find yourself being different from the “norm” you generally can pick one of two choices ( There are many more because humans are all different). A) You can reject the feelings that you have and try to fit the “norm”. B) You accept who you are.

Now that you have accepted who you are. There is still one thing that is in your way no one knows. So your next step after you are good and comfortable with yourself. You now have to make the really really big step and I would suggest that you don’t go diving into this. I would suggest try picking someone who is

A) LGBTQ

B) A really really good friend who you have at least a good feeling will accept you

C) Tell the person who has been saying that you are LGBTQ for the longest time.

D) which is Tell you ex-girlfriend that you left on really good terms with

E) Your parents

They will most likely support you (I Choose C and D) which is Tell you ex-girlfriend that you left on really good terms with).

Once you tell them you can move on to your parents which, is a big step. If you didn’t tell them first which you can defiantly do. This is assuming that you didn’t. This can be one of the most scariest parts of coming out because of the really close relationship that you have with your parents. I would suggest bringing it up with the one parent that you feel the closest to. If your family is extremely homophobic or you feel that they would not accept you I would strongly suggest that you get a support group out side of your home to support you through this step. I also think that you should tell your parents and give them the respect of knowing that your trust them. Not to say that everything is going to be fine or even comfortable for a while it maybe arguing as they digest what you have told them. They may take it really badly. I would give them time and also show them that this is who you are. As well as showing them that you are happy and feel safe being LGBTQ. If you can I would try to get some of your LGBTQ friends to come over and hangout and try to invite your parents into at least a little bit of your social life.

Here is the summary of “coming out” After the above mentioned steps you will always be “coming out”. To people you meet to finding new ways of expressing yourself to people. There will never be a time where you are done “coming out” you will always have to answer the Why’s, How’d you know and all the other questions that come up. So I guess this is about all I can think of for “Coming Out” Guide thing so I hope you like it. So let the “coming out” continue down its own weird path.

[Via http://jeffgeigerblog.wordpress.com]

SPECIAL REPORT: FROM SAMUEL DANIEL LOVELESS

PUREENERGY312

TRUE UNCLE SAM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - SAMUEL DANIEL LOVELESS S.D.L. PUREENERGY312

ALLOW ME TO BE CLEAR:

I WILL NOT GO BACK INTO THE DARKNESS

I AM NOT CRAZY

I JUST LOVE AND CARE FOR ALL OF US SO MUCH THAT I MUST DO WHATEVER IT TAKES.

TRUE LEADERSHIP REQUIRES IT.

BIT BY BIT BY BIT

STONE BY STONE BY STONE

BRICK BY BRICK BY BRICK

WE REBUILD

PUREENERGY312

SAMUEL DANIEL LOVELESS

S.D.L.

PLAYING MY TRUE ROLE

TRUE UNCLE SAM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

I KNOW AS A FACT THAT YOU ARE ALL PULLING FOR US AS A UNIT.

LET IT FLOW

LET’S ROLL

THANK YOU

[Via http://pureenergy312.wordpress.com]

Sunday Monday

On Sunday night

she said “If you don’t want to be here leave.”

and all my sentences got slashed with her cold eyes kitchen shears

I said “That’s not it,” I said “It’s just,”

and then I put my clothes on

and then she turned the lights on

and then the door opened and I left

Monday night

we were lying like spoons in a drawer

I toyed with her dark hair and whispered things

we stayed like that for awhile before she

hid her face from me making a mask with her little hands

when I pulled them back her lashes were all wet

“Promise me you won’t hurt me like she did.”

(it’s times like these I look to the tree I pluck all my pretty words from who’s branches normally break from the vernacular strain, but at times like these it shivers naked winter twigs and I’m left digging through fallen fruit on the frozen ground.)

“She made me think I’m a bad person, am I a bad person?”

and I say “You’re a good person.”

and her lashes are wet for awhile.

and I say “I’ll stay.”

when she kisses me

she kisses me fast she kisses me desperately

I hope she is kissing me not Jessica

the mask she made is off

but we are all covered in dark so I can’t tell

when I cum it is hard and bright and fast

it is a meteor flash in our night sky

she asks “What are you thinking?”

I say “I’m writing poetry.”

and she falls asleep

I’m awake for awhile

but I don’t leave.

[Via http://mayjaybird.wordpress.com]

Good On Ya, Meredith!

I’ve checked for an official Meredith website and was unable to find one so thought I’d leave a little note for her here. Will she read it? Most likely not.

I felt every jitter of nerves you were probably feeling, Meredith, during your announcement on the Today Show this morning. I know how hard it is to say those words out loud. I’m sure your palms were sweating and your knees shaking. I’ll bet you had second, third, and 1,000th thoughts right up until the camera turned to you. Internal and external debates aside, Meredith, you executed fantastically, with grace and style. I thought you were tremendously brave.

It is one thing to come out to yourself. Another to your children. And to your family. But to make an announcement like that to the world…that takes sheer guts (and a nearby bathroom).

Matt Lauer. Well, I was impressed. I can say with heartfelt gratitude that it was not Ann Curry doing the interview. I couldn’t have stomached the false intensity of the contrived ‘lean forward, rest your hand on the guest’s knee, gaze deeply into her eyes, lower your voice, and ask…”how does it feel?”‘ Nope. That would have sucked. Matt was great.

The interview, if you missed it, can be found on YouTube here.

For those who will read this and start the usual whinge of “nobody ever comes out with, ‘I’m straight’” news…suck it up. Nobody has to come out as straight, it’s an assumed norm, with anything else being perceived as the “other,” with the ‘other’ being connotatively construed as wrong. (If any of those words confused you, look them up.). As Meredith said in her interview, she was putting a personal face on the issue. This is a woman who represented a generation to many of us, and iconic ideal. If she can be a lesbian an loved, why can’t we all?

I went to a Hallowe’en party this year and met Alice’s Queen of Hearts. Fabulous costume designed and made by the wearer, also a wonderful (male) fourth grade teacher. You’re kidding yourself if you don’t think we’re teaching your kids in the grade and high schools/colleges/universities. Are we recruiting? Absolutely not. Are we everywhere? You bet your ass we are. Don’t like it? Tough. Live with it.

If you don’t like lesbians, don’t sleep with one. Same goes for gay men. If you don’t like gay marriage, don’t marry a gay person.

What you did today Meredith was well done, indeed. Thank you.

[Via http://polsblog.wordpress.com]

Carrie Prejean--and Exortation to Women and a Rebuke to the Church

(This was originally written in April, 2009, but in light of the newest scandal involving Carrie Prejean, I think it fitting to publish it again. Let the tree be judged by its fruit.)

A woman stands nearly naked before many spectators, so that a homosexual, among others, can judge her “beauty” by the world’s false standards. She then says homosexual marriage is wrong. My sister in Christ? Not necessarily—let’s judge righteous judgment.

Since when do Christians go to the world to parade their dying flesh about on a stage, encouraging men to lust, and young women to covet, admire, and imitate what is evil?

Since when do whorish women become the heroes of Christendom?

Since when do we applaud and congratulate women—who are presently and unashamedly disobeying God’s will for women—for “defending the faith,” rather than rebuking them in love, and showing them the things that please the Father?

Has the church of Jesus Christ sunk so low? Is there no discernible difference between what is good and evil anymore? “Her priests have violated my law, and have profaned mine holy things: they have put no difference between the holy and profane, neither have they shewed difference between the unclean and the clean…” (Ezekiel 2:26)

Is Carrie Prejean a defender of the faith? Well, that depends. Are we talking about the faith of Jesus? Or some other faith that is rooted in tradition and personal opinion? Here are Carrie’s words:

“Well, I think it’s *great* that Americans are able to choose one or the other. We live in a land where you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage. And you know what, in my country, in my family, I *think* that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anyone out there, but that’s how I was raised, and that’s how I think it should be between a man and a woman.”

So according to Carrie, it’s just wonderful that Americans get to choose if they want to marry the same sex or the opposite sex! And she means no offense, but she was RAISED to believe marriage is between a man and a woman.

Let me remind those who love God’s Word that homosexuality is not something we “can choose” or not choose without consequence. It is a judgment of insanity sent by God on those who worship the created being (like those who watch beauty pageants, for example) more than the Creator (Romans 1). It is also a one way ticket to damnation (I Cor. 6:9-10) unless the homosexual repents and turns to Jesus Christ in faith.

Any good Muslim, Jehovah’s Witness, or Catholic could have given the answer Carrie gave!

Carrie was apparently raised to believe in biblical marriage, but not raised to believe in biblical modesty. Her traditional Christianity allows her to cherry pick her truths according to her own desires. Her opinion is that marriage should be between a man and a woman. Her opinion is also (apparently) that women who profess to be Christ’s do not have to turn away from the sin of immorality, and cover their bodies modestly as befits a Christian. She has apparently decided to avoid these Scriptures:

“In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array; But (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works.” (I Tim. 2:9-10)

Too bad the deceived are so busy giving this misguided woman applause, and not busy helping her to see the error of her ways. It’s pretty hard to stand up for Jesus with no clothes on, ladies. Get with Jesus a little while, and He will make this very plain to you.

A harlot is known by her dress, which is worn to purposely ensnare men (Proverbs 7:10). So please spare me the “people have differing views of what modesty is” line, which is an unacceptable excuse being used to justify the wicked. Please don’t write me and tell me that bikinis are acceptable public clothing for Christian women, unless you are willing to wear your underwear to church this Sunday or to your next Bible study. The presence of water does not baptize harlotry and make it acceptable! Even in cultures that instinctively wear more clothing than Americans, a harlot is known by her choice of clothing. Also, please notice in Proverbs chapter 7, that the harlot can be very religious and have a “form” of godliness; but by her dressing to entice unstable souls, she proves herself a spiritual murderer—”yea, many strong men have been slain by her.” If the strong men need beware, what will happen to the weak men?

As a Christian, our first commandment is to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. Pretty hard to do while we are wowing the crowds with our flesh, isn’t it? My friends, NO FLESH should glory in His presence! (I Cor. 1:29) That’s pretty clear, isn’t it? We are either sowing to please our flesh, or sowing to please the Spirit. We are not doing both at the same time.

The second commandment is to love our neighbor as ourselves. Are we (ladies) loving men when we strut about half covered in front of them? Are we not concerned about their eternal souls? Are we not concerned about our own? Are we concerned about their wives and their daughters? Or are we only concerned with climbing some ladder of vain self-importance in the eyes of this idolatrous world? Do we think we can play the harlot and escape the wrath of God?

There is a reason God COVERED Adam and Eve’s nakedness when they became sinners. There is a reason we will not return to the “naked state” even in heaven. We will be fully clothed. There is a reason He threatened idolatrous Israel with “uncovering her nakedness.” There is a reason that many pagan tribes that turn to Christ suddenly decide to wear clothes. And there is a reason Americans, who run after idols—like “beauty” queens—have a love affair with nakedness. And there is a reason the professing church doesn’t rebuke this wickedness, but instead praises it, displaying its own hypocrisy for all the world to see. She knows not that she is “wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked;” and that she needs to go to Jesus to receive “white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do not appear.” (Rev. 3:17-18)

I can no more commend Carrie Prejean for standing by her opinion, than I can commend Perez Hilton for standing by his. To do so would be hypocritical. The only opinion that matters is God’s “opinion.” Woe is me if I train my children to reject homosexuality, but to at the same time embrace the immoral behavior of the religious prostitute!

Please hear me: I am not trying to hurt Carrie Prejean. IF she wants to follow Christ, let her “that nameth the name of Christ depart from iniquity.” (2 Tim. 2:19) Let her ask the LORD how she can make her body a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to Him. Let her seek out older women of faith who will show her a more excellent way. Let them teach her not to glory in her flesh, which is a fading flower, but to “let it be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.” (I Pet. 3:4)

I lay the blame for this hypocrisy at the feet of the church, which has no discernment to see that this woman is hell-bound unless she repents of her idolatry and wanton, fleshly ways. Dare we make a hero out of a person who is so blindly leading others into sin? All this little charade between Carrie and Perez does is further blur the line between good and evil. Homosexuality=Bad, Promiscuity=OK? NO! Both ways lead to death!

Carrie Prejean has become a facebook hero for her stand against homosexuality. I have an unsaved close relative who also believes men should not marry men. Does this make him a hero? No, my friends. The unsaved judge unrighteous judgment. They have their OWN standard of right and wrong. They might think pornography is OK, but rape is wrong. They think drunkenness is OK, but getting high on drugs is wrong. And they think homosexuality is wrong, but immodesty and lifting oneself up as an idol to be worshiped by lust-driven crowds is OK.

If Carrie wants to be taken seriously as a Christian, she needs to obey Christ and his Word by turning from her OWN wickedness, dressing herself as befits a woman professing godliness, and standing up for what GOD thinks, ACROSS THE BOARD.

And if the church wants to be taken seriously by people like Perez Hilton, it needs to stop being so hypocritical and blind. It needs to go to Jesus for some eye medicine. It also needs to stop strengthening the hands of those who do evil, like Carrie Prejean, so that she will repent and follow after righteousness.

“I have seen also in the prophets of Jerusalem an horrible thing: they commit adultery, and walk in lies: they strengthen also the hands of evildoers, that none doth return from his wickedness; they are all of them unto me as Sodom, and the inhabitants thereof as Gomorrah.” Jeremiah 23:14

“But now I have written unto you not to keep company, if any man that is called a brother (or sister) be a fornicator, or covetous, or an idolator, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extortioner; with such an one no not to eat. For what have I to do to judge them also that are without? do not ye judge them that are within? But them that are without God judgeth. Therefore put away from among yourselves that wicked person.” I Cor 5: 1-13

[Via http://israeliteindeed.wordpress.com]

Going Lesbian isn't Going to Mend Your Bitter Heart

Not only are you women who decide to go Lesbian/Bi-sexual because some man broke your heart impostors but you’re stupid as well. Running into a woman’s arm because you’re probably the reason why he left you isn’t going to make you feel better to the least. You’re being laughed at heterosexual and homosexual women alike.

If you aren’t naturally attracted to females you’re a hoax, an idiot if you will. It pisses me off for a female to tell me that they’re trying females out because some man cheated on them with her best friend. Honestly, check the company you keep don’t go running to a chick like things will get better. Women cheat as well and they are in fact more conniving and drama driven; I should know, majority of my family are females.

You’re really stupid telling someone you’re bitter towards all men because of one fuck-up. If you think you’re getting back at all men because of one fuck-up by going Lesbian then you’re pathetic. Go ahead and try to convince yourself that a woman is what you want and you’ll be sadly mistaken.

The hypocrisy of it all is getting a lesbian that dresses and act like a dude. I honestly had to laugh at that. Getting a woman that wants to be a man isn’t doing anything for your self-esteem.  You’re not being true to yourself getting yourself involved in something that you have no experience in all because of some man kicked you in the twat. I’ll never understand why a woman would go from straight to lesbian in 2.2 nano seconds because of a man. Remember what you’re getting yourself into; they bleed once/twice a month just like you do. Unless they went that far and got a sex change; then again, is that even possible yet?

Its a bunch of hypocritical shit going on with lesbianism. Especially those that get sex changes. Its not those that get the sex changes its the ones that fancy themselves with someone who has gotten a sex change. My point is, why leave a real dick for a fake one? It goes in the same hole(s). Okay I’m done, I’m getting sick to my stomach.

[Via http://asilee.com]

Jenna Jameson lesbian video Last Girl Standing

jenna jameson last girl standing video

Only the hot survive. Paul Thomas presents a Vivid spectacular. Seven Vivid Superstars vie for a major role in a new international cable TV series, each showcasing their particular erotic skills. It’s star against star in a catfight cattle call that culminates in a grudge orgy beyond your wildest dreams. Seven Vivid Superstars out to prove their sex! An anal odyssey. – 90 min.

Starring – Jenna Jameson, Briana Banks, Kira Kener, Mercedez, Rick Faulkner, Savanna Samson, Scarlet O’Whora, Sunrise Adams, Tawny Roberts

Check it out here

go home

[Via http://toysforwomen.wordpress.com]

Schrodinger’s Computer

Docksiders

Helen began lecturing at Generika U, in their brand new shiny Gender Faculty.  She was well liked by her students and the apartment was frequently full of youngsters, hanging on to Helen’s every word.

Sam and Veto were keeping an eye on their friends’ data.  Cyberspace, meanwhile, had become everybody’s playground.  Three dimensional solidity sent artists, architects and so on wild.  It was damn near impossible to tell the difference between a game and a military battle and both of those things were taking place in there, out there, at any given moment.  Technology had managed to reproduce the world with an accuracy that frightened some people and reassured others.  Instead of talking about moving to outer space, people made real plans to move into cyberspace.  The entire cryogenics industry failed almost overnight.

It became increasingly unpopular to speak out against the shift into cyberspace, but there was a hardcore and vocal core protesting it – the same breed who’d camped out at Greenham Common, who’d crewed the Sea Shepherd, who yelled peace at warmongers and later, picketed Coldplay concerts and Oxfam shops with placards reading, “Not in my name!”  It was the sector that didn’t believe in any kind of control or colonisation, of anything, by anyone.  It wasn’t a fashionable stance, this movement against the controlling whole of society and back to the individual, to smaller communities.  Scar watched it with great interest and decided it was very probably doomed to fail.

The world’s major cities went online en masse and it became impossible to do certain things, talk to certain people, get all kinds of stuff done, unless you went online.  People still lived out there, far from cities, with no net access at all, but nobody cared about their opinions, the media didn’t represent them any more than their governments did.  Another passionate movement sprang up, one dedicated to getting everyone, everywhere online.  Equal Tech for all, was their catchphrase.  Scar had a feeling they would fail too, that there would always be outsiders, by circumstance or choice.  The Not-in-My-Namers protested them too, dubbing them the Neo-Oxfammers.

Technology rolled on like a Katamari game, picking up everything it could as it rolled through society.  It was easy to get people to conform and go online.  Online had always been fun, far beyond its usefulness.  Having recreated a huge chunk of itself online, of course society needed its needs met offline in the meantime.  If they’d made the choice to morph completely, they needed their bodies wound down correctly while every other aspect of them uploaded.  Medical staff made a fortune out of that.

Restaurants began to go bust as their clientele oozed off smoothly and stylishly into cyberspace.  The pressure on transport decreased … you get the picture; everything changed.

Schrodinger’s Computer

Then the Not-in-My-Namers started blowing up power stations.  It was a massively successful form of resistance, because even though online data didn’t seem to have been affected or lost, the notion of a permanent blackout terrified the technophiles.  Global screenfeeds played interviews with those online “survivors” after the power cuts and philosophical debates around Schrodinger’s Cat were hauled out of universities and aired once again.

Scar, with her port completely healed over and offline since her trip to Japan, watched all of it with growing consternation.  Her own choice was very simple; shift permanently into cyberspace, or remain perfectly offline.  By then, Sam and Veto spent most of their time online, with enough offline systems in place to facilitate that without destroying them offline.  Tokyo didn’t experience power outages, their tech all seemed invincible, indestructible.

Helen’s lectures went completely online, her class huge and global; student visitors to the loft tailed off gradually and then stopped altogether.

Down at Graff, the Jesus Lizard was still king, one of the few street artists who hadn’t made the jump into spraying cyberspace instead.  Scar started hanging out there again, spraying sigils and eights, getting to know the subculture again.  “Not in my name” became a ubiquitous tag; artists getting that up on billboards and walls using paint and light, geeks joining in to create locative art, jamming frequencies so that you’d see their work on almost any feed they hacked.

Power outages became routine in Generika – if you were online when the juice went off, you stayed online until it came back on again.  The whole thing just replaced earlier commuter transport problems, had anything really changed?  When Helen got stuck online, Scar would hover anxiously, checking her hydration, her bodily functions, monitoring readouts like a nurse.  You sort of expected things to malfunction in Africa though, but when they blacked out New York for an entire day, the world paid more attention.

Nothing had freaked out America quite so much since 9/11 and even though it didn’t dominate world economy and media as much as Japan and China did, America still loomed large on global horizons.  People began to panic.

Give the Consumers What They Want

Drug companies survived the shift just fine, by synthesising new products to support bodies while minds were online, to increase alertness – you name it, they made something to fix it or improve it.  Supposedly.  Psychiatry journals reported a sharp increase in Bipolar Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Attention Deficit Disorder – Scar presumed society was merely suffering collective netsplit.  Stress levels exploded as people handled entire lives on and offline.

At first, outcasts had escaped online and felt free.  As the one plane echoed the other more and more, it didn’t feel quite as free any longer.  Replication seemed complete – society had constructed a giant virus.

The Neo-Oxfammers kept connecting rural communities, the Not-in-My-Namers kept blowing things up.  They also campaigned online, trying to lure people offline again.  Despite the extremes, there seemed to be enough money somehow, to ensure that both “worlds” were sustained.

You Can’t Save the World

Seti didn’t work offline at all anymore.  She coded and cloned genderno figures, animating them and unleashing them into cyberspace to attempt to make their presence felt amidst the rest of the line noise.  It backfired badly.  Cyberspace was only limited to the technology behind it and while an eventual crash seemed as inevitable as the sun’s implosion, everyone felt they probably had five billion years left and nobody worried very much at all.  Seti’s creatures just got lost in it all, ignored or deleted by anyone who didn’t like them.

The city streets had grown quieter with the shift and then began to fill again as outliers drifted in to fill the gaps left by the migration.

Samanth0r: they’re dying

Helen: who?

Samanth0r: migrants. anyone in cyberspace without paid space or their own server, they’re letting them fade

Helen: who is??

Samanth0r: corporates man, who else?

Helen: so no money, no sponsorship, no immortality?

Samanth0r: exactleh.

Helen: how’d you know?

Samanth0r: check out insecure, it’s growing. gotta flip, but we’ll talk soon

Scar and Helen sat in front of the good old fashioned, flatscreen, one dimensional web that night and logged on to insecure.org; what they read wasn’t reassuring in the slightest.  There were lists as long as military fatalities records there and an example of how onliners were fading back into raw data.  Helen got to work on filtering the list, trying to spot trends and it didn’t take her long to pinpoint a particularly disturbing one.  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she muttered and Scar looked over her shoulder at the spreadsheet.  “Shit!” she agreed.  “Whether this is a disease,” said Helen, “or whether it’s something contrived, this pattern’s terrifying.”

The list consisted of:

•    people with criminal records

•    people under a certain income level

•    people with registered psychiatric problems

•    transgenders

•    intersexed people

•    queers

“Freaking out will not help,” said Helen, as Scar hit the roof, “we have to talk to Sam again, we have to work this out.”  Scar could only agree with her, but she felt as if her brain was trying to claw its way out of her skull.  Helen uploaded her spreadsheet to insecure – responses were rapid and angry.  Other people had analysed the stats with slightly different results, but only slightly.  Whichever angle you looked from, the consequences were dire.

Hackers were working on recovering data, restoring the deleted souls, but of course, there was no chance of getting anybody back out of cyberspace once they’d made a complete shift from their body.  You can’t, as they say, get toothpaste back into the tube.

The Following Actions Make Boring Television

Helen: you looked at insecure lately?

Samanth0r: yup

Helen: any ideas?

Samanth0r: sent the info round like a virus, what else can we do?

Helen: can you guys code any protection against whatever it is?

Samanth0r: it’s not a virus, it’s the environment – it’s hard to explain.  insecure d00ds trying to code safe space, but everything keeps shifting, it’s just … putting  out fires, you know? fact is, nothing’s the same anymore

Helen: no solution then?!?!

Samanth0r: *shrug* ppl have to start looking after themselves hey. all we can do really is spread the info.

Helen: ok …

Human rights organizations picked up on the info pretty quickly and little pockets of outrage appeared.  It’d be nice to imagine a global outcry, but let’s be honest, on the whole, people are busy surviving and the same old people always make a fuss, get involved.

And the more things change, the more they stay the same, thought Scar – but what can you do?  You just have to keep trying anyway.

Charmageddon got a whole lot livelier again, the online threat drawing the community together offline.  Scar found herself there more than usual too, talking and listening.  The Queer Control panel got a whole new lease of life too, doing whatever it could to keep its members safe.

Aluta Continua

If you’re finding it hard to believe that everything so far happened in less than a year, just think about how fast your emails fly around and how often you see new cellphone models appear.  Technology’s insanely fast; human beings – not so much.

Samanth0r: there’s a way, for some at least – Generika for one

Helen: tell!

Samanth0r: same answer lol, the TECH!

Helen: the tech?

Samanth0r: the tech. if enough of generika’s net base is still queer owned …

Helen: genius!

Samanth0r: everybody just got soft yo, forgot how to fight

Helen: it’s be *so* good to be allowed to forget!

Samanth0r: yeh … ppl are fuckwits tho.

The revolution was not televised.  It wasn’t even a complete solution, but some well placed communications to the right people, in the right places, did at least ensure the withdrawal of whatever Generika’s unstated participation in the online genocide was, as well as boosting the stream of refugees to the city.

I’m starting to loathe this “novel” completely – not only does most of it seem unbelievable to me when I read it back, not to mention unbelievably badly written, but I just can’t seem to find a big enough happy ending.  I don’t even know what the hell the end should be.  “And they all kept processing oxygen ever after.”  I’m vaguely back on target for the NaNo thing, but I am ready to chuck in the towel.

One of the casualties of the genocide, was Seti, who’d migrated online early, sent forth her genderno people and then quickly vanished without very many people noticing at all.  The image of her and that of her genderno had become interchangeable already.  Scar sometimes wondered if anyone else at all but her missed Seti the human being.  She’d have been pleased with how her art lived on though.  Even with some people deleting the figures as if they were a virus or a screensaver they’d fallen out of love with, that image had become iconic and hopefully somebody would always remember who started it all.

“Write it down, Scar,” said Ginger, “just write it all down.”

Nevada had repealed the Queer Marriage Act, yet again and Sam and Veto had lost faith in America entirely.  Scar and Helen assumed they’d get married in Japan, but they were in for a good surprise – Sam was coming home to get married.  She and Veto were still heroes in Generika – and South Africa, having renewed Mandela’s constitution, was once again the dichotomous place where you could very well end up murdered for being queer, but where the murder was at least illegal.

A magistrate would do the legal rites, then they and a few hundred close personal friends and no doubt some media too, would head out to the old naval base to celebrate on a grounded warship.  “Only those two,” said Scar, shaking her head and Helen grinned, “Of course – they need a weapons-grade wedding!”

[Via http://scarthedyke.wordpress.com]

Puerto Rico: Hate Crime Against Gay Teenager Causes Outrage

Nineteen year-old Jorge Steven Mercado dreamed about working in the fashion industry. He was also a volunteer in organizations advocating for HIV prevention and gay rights. But, last week his body was found dismembered, decapitated, and partially burned, in a rural area in Guavate, Cayey, Puerto Rico. Activists from the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) community in Puerto Rico immediately described this brutal slaying  as a hate crime. Not a single crime has been processed under the Puerto Rican Hate Crime Law since it was approved in 2002. Penalties are higher if the Hate Crime Law is applied.

Days after the murder, 26 year-old Juan Martínez Matos confessed. According to local news reports, Martínez Matos said he went looking for a prostitute in the streets of Caguas, Puerto Rico, when Steven approached him. Martínez Matos said he “didn’t know” Steven Mercado was a man until they arrived at his apartment in an another town (the victim was allegedly dressed as a woman). Gay activists Ada Conde and Pedro Julio Serrano have publicly stated that the sector where Steven Mercado was picked up is mostly frequented by transsexual and transvestite men. Martínez Matos said he killed Steven in “self defense” after they got into a fight. He then mutilated his body, and left it in a desolated area miles away from his house. Martínez Matos also stated he hated homosexuals because he had been raped when he was in jail for committing domestic violence.

Gay activists were outraged when the police officer in charge of the investigation said: “Someone like that, who does those kind of things, and goes out in public, knows full well that this might happen to him.” They have demanded the officer’s immediate removal from the case. Martínez Matos has been charged with murder and bail was set at $4 million USD.

Since Puerto Rico is a United States territory, federal laws apply. Two Puerto Rican United States Congress Members from New York have asked for this crime to be prosecuted under new federal hate crimes laws. The Federal Investigations Bureau (FBI) is monitoring the investigation. In the 1980s the serial murderer Ángel Colón Maldonado, known as the “Angel of the Bachelors”, killed 27 homosexuals in the Island. Recently, gay actvists have also warned about another murder against a gay man in San Juan, the country’s capital.

Bloggers have reacted to this terrible crime. The human rights actvists and spokesperson of the LGBT organization Puerto Rico para Tod@s (Puerto Rico for Everyone), Pedro Julio Serrano [ES], condemned the religious leaders’ and the politicians’ silence:

We are before one of the most horrendous murders committed in the history of this country, therefore the silence of political and religious leaders is even more shameful. They should feel embarrassed for not expressing their solidarity with Jorge Steven’s family and friends. They should feel embarrassed for not expressing solidarity with the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community for the hatred that this crime has produced. They should feel embarrassed for not condemning the police officer in charge of the investigation. They should feel embarrassed for having forgotten their constitutional duty of defending equality for every human being.

This Sunday there will be a vigil in New York City in remembrance of Jorge Steven Mercado.

[Via http://nealbinnyc.wordpress.com]

ATTENTION NEW YORK: AMAZING BENEFIT, VIP's, CELEBS and ONE AMAZING CAUSE!! BE THERE!!!

This is a HOT event and it’s going fast!!

 

Buy Tickets!!!

 

 

Come and support The Ali Forney Center & Broadway Speaks OUT with a star studded cast!!!

See you on November 30th!

The Ali Forney Center houses gay and lesbian youths who are homeless.

As the visibility of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) people grows in our society, more and more LGBT teens are finding the courage to come out of the closet. Tragically, as many as 25% of these teens are rejected by their families, and many end up homeless on the streets.

Join Broadway Stars & NYC Favorites:

TONY AWARD WINNER BD WONG

Nick Adams (Guys&Dolls, A Chorus Line)

Tituss Burgess (Little Mermaid, Guys & Dolls)

Kate Pazakis (Jerry Springer the Opera)

Anthony Hollock (Hair, Mr. Broadway 2009)

Frankie James Grande (Mamma Mia, Mr. Broadway 2008)

Megan Reinking (Hair)

The HoneyBuns-Lauren Elder, Haven Burton, & Meabh O’Neill

Sean Bradford (The Lion King)

Jeffery Self & Cole Escola of LOGO TV

Michael Buckley of WhatTheBuck Show

Martin Gould Cummings

ORDER TICKETS – They are going fast!!!
https://www.ovationtix.com/trs/pe/7492015

Produced by: Broadway Speaks OUT

Sponsoring: BSO & The Ali Forney Center

Sponsored By: Dixon Place & NEXT Magazine

for information on AFC visit www.aliforneycenter.org
for information on BSO visit www.broadwayspeaksOUT.com

Hacking the Phobes

godhatesfags.com seemed to have been online forever; the good old Westboro Church, preaching hellfire and damnation to ho-mo-seeex-u-als with a blank and benevolent smile and less than no willingness to listen to anybody but each other and their prophet, no matter what.  For a while, a site called fagshategod.com existed to bait it, Louis Theroux spent time trying to talk sense to them … you name it.

The moment it hit the Tokyo Two’s radar and gaydar, they were incensed.  They spent months on the project and then one weekend, they hit it hard.  One of the many global hacker orgs launched a denial of service attack that hackers still talk about.  For a while, the site was covered in hippy style peace and love flowers and “God Loves Fags” sprayed all over it.  Their coup de grace though, was getting hold of the church’s stunningly huge mailing list and sending out the following mailshot, right from the church’s very own holy server:

Brethren and Sistren and all those who maybe don’t quite fit in … ren,

As I was partaking of my customary cornflakes and chitlins this morning, the Lord – THE Lord, appeared to me with His whole holy heavenly host behind Him and He spake thus to Me … er, I mean me,  “Thou shalt not, under any circumstances, no how, definitely not And I Really, Really Mean This, continue with your crusade of hatred against my most beloved and precious fags.  Thee and thine, all thy brethren, sistren and children (and if they are still alive, your mothren and fathren too) shall henceforth cease and desist in this shameful behaviour.  And furthermore, I apologise for all that bullshit I wrote in Leviticus.

Go forth and join other churches, for the Westboro Church is now strictly and for all eternity, a non-prophet organization.

Yours Sincerely, etc.

Texas eliminates marriage for everyone

From Google Images.

The Miami Herald is reporting that a technicality in the wording of the Texas Defense of Marriage Act may actually ban all marriages, not just those pesky homo ones.

In the state constitutional amendment it states, “Marriage in this state shall consist only of the union of one man and one woman.”

But the huge issue is in following statement meant to block civil unions and domestic partnerships: “This state or a political subdivision of this state may not create or recognize any legal status identical or similar to marriage.”

“You do not have to have a fancy law degree to read this and understand what it plainly says,” said Barbara Ann Radnofsky, a Houston lawyer and Democratic candidate for attorney general. She also said the language effectively “eliminates marriage in Texas.”

Of course this language will not result in an overnight cancellation of all marriages in Texas, it is still quite hilarious. It seems that whomever wrote the Texas DOMA amendment was so worried about gays finding some sort of equality in civil unions or domestic partnerships that they accidentally eliminated marriage for everyone. Talk about irony.

Cue the cynical laughter.

I am not a vegetarian

Sometimes it’s best just to dive on in.  I don’t like to say I’m a lesbian, because that is a noun and I don’t feel like I’m a noun.  My sexuality is not my entire being, it is a small but significant part of me.  Significant because other people make it so.

When labels are called for, I tend to opt for gay, maybe queer chick.  Not that I feel particularly queer, it’s just a slightly funkier word.

People try to tell me that it’s easier to come out now than it used to be.  Well, for me it is, because for the last (cough) years I’ve been coming out nearly every day, so yeah, it’s not that much of an effort.  It’s going to be different for everyone, but for me, the biggest step was shedding my own assumption of heterosexuality and all its attendant expectations.

Why is coming out so hard?  Internalised homophobia is a powerful force.  It is the dark little voice in our heads telling us we are somehow flawed, imperfect, deviant, queer.  Other.  Ugly.  Weak.  The social constructs of gay, lesbian, bisexual, are wrapped up in stereotypes and assumptions.  Is this me?  Do I sign up for this?  Am I really like that?  Can I change my mind?

It’s little things, like how do you know you’re a lesbian if you don’t have a girlfriend but I didn’t raise you to be like that and what about children.  Not being able to get a phone account in both our names.

It’s big things, like getting heckled, harassed, beaten up.  Not getting that job. Being kicked out of home.  Not being able to get married or adopt a child.  People counting us as less, trying to prove us wrong.

I was in the army reserves for a while, and I kept my mouth shut.  I segregated that part of my life from all the rest.  I never spoke about my partner, my work, I ducked through the personal pronouns.  I avoided the girls and I let the boys down gently.  I lied.  That’s no basis for friendship.  When I finally came clean, my friends were hurt that I hadn’t trusted them.

Of course, it’s not my friends who are the problem.  Most people catch on after a while that I’m no different.  It’s the jerks who think I’m there for their sexual titillation, that it’s a phase, that I need converting, or that I should be kept away from their kids. They are the problem.

I can understand not coming out.  It’s not easy and it’s not always safe.  And I know in this big boy’s world of medicine it’s not going to always win me fans.

I just think not taking the risk, not trusting that someone will be there to catch you, not believing that people can love you for who you are… I just think it’s sad. That’s all.

The Adopted One

Three sisters were lost in Antarctica. Cold, alone and hungry. The youngest of all, Jeleus was only 18. She was adopted and this was her 18th birthday. Her gift was to go hiking, but they ended up getting lost. The two other sisters, Lana and Dana were blood relatives, twins to be exact were both 22.

They hiked into a cave and lit a lantern that had been part of an emergency kit. The youngest off all had gotten terribly pale and frozen looking. Lana and Dana thought nothing of it as they put the lantern out and retired to the piles they made on the floor and went to sleep.

Jeleus stayed awake. Her body was soar and she could see everything clearly. There were other people in the cave. People that were not there when the lights were on. They watched her as though they were afraid. There had to be about twelve people in there. They were all leaning against the walls shivering. The hairs on her arms and neck stood up.

“Who are you?” She spoke but no one answered. They just looked at each other, then back at her. Her stomach had began to make the most unbearable noises and the people that aligned the walls threw their hands over their ears and began to scream a piercing scream, causing her too, to cover her ears, but the noise was coming through and tearing away at the tissues and skin of her hands.

Jeleus examined her hands in fear and started to scream even louder. She attempted to wake Dana but was unsuccessful. She had gotten so angry from her non-responsive sister that she grabbed Dana’s hair and yanked it, detaching her entire head. The screaming stopped. Her palms were missing. And she was still angry. Rage had taken over her. On the inside, she wanted so badly to stop herself but the good in her wasn’t strong enough.

She looked around at all of the frightened figures and took a bite out of Dana’s head. Lana, fast asleep, had no idea what was taking place.

There wasn’t quite enough meat on the head for Jeleus so she dismembered the entire body and ate away at it starting with the arms. She licked her lips and sucked the bones.

Finishing the entire body, she crawled up in the spot Dana previously laid and now the blood was splattered. She was full and satisfied.

When Lana woke up the next morning, she looked around the room for Dana, who was missing. Out of panic, she reached and turned Jeleus over and spotted the blood around her mouth, down her neck and bones Jeleus had been cradling fell out of her arms. Lana began to scream and pushed Jeleus away from her.

Jeleus hit the cave wall, her head with more force than the rest of her body, splattered.  Lana scrabbled out of the cave and back into snowy nowhere, hoping to get home before dark.

 

Three sisters were lost in Antarctica. Cold, alone and hungry. The youngest of all, Jeleus was only 18. She was adopted and this was her 18th birthday. Her gift was to go hiking, but they ended up getting lost. The two other sisters, Lana and Dana were blood relatives, twins to be exact were both 22.

They hiked into a cave and lit a lantern that had been part of an emergency kit. The youngest off all had gotten terribly pale and frozen looking. Lana and Dana thought nothing of it as they put the lantern out and retired to the piles they made on the floor and went to sleep.

Jeleus stayed awake. Her body was soar and she could see everything clearly. There were other people in the cave. People that were not there when the lights were on. They watched her as though they were afraid. There had to be about twelve people in there. They were all leaning against the walls shivering. The hairs on her arms and neck stood up.

“Who are you?” She spoke but no one answered. They just looked at each other, then back at her. Her stomach had began to make the most unbearable noises and the people that aligned the walls threw their hands over their ears and began to scream a piercing scream, causing her too, to cover her ears, but the noise was coming through and tearing away at the tissues and skin of her hands.

Jeleus examined her hands in fear and started to scream even louder. She attempted to wake Dana but was unsuccessful. She had gotten so angry from her non-responsive sister that she grabbed Dana’s hair and yanked it, detaching her entire head. The screaming stopped. Her palms were missing. And she was still angry. Rage had taken over her. On the inside, she wanted so badly to stop herself but the good in her wasn’t strong enough.

She looked around at all of the frightened figures and took a bite out of Dana’s head. Lana, fast asleep, had no idea what was taking place.

There wasn’t quite enough meat on the head for Jeleus so she dismembered the entire body and ate away at it starting with the arms. She licked her lips and sucked the bones.

Finishing the entire body, she crawled up in the spot Dana previously laid and now the blood was splattered. She was full and satisfied.

When Lana woke up the next morning, she looked around the room for Dana, who was missing. Out of panic, she reached and turned Jeleus over and spotted the blood around her mouth, down her neck and bones Jeleus had been cradling fell out of her arms. Lana began to scream and pushed Jeleus away from her.

Jeleus hit the cave wall, her head with more force than the rest of her body, splattered.  Lana scrabbled out of the cave and back into snowy nowhere, hoping to get home before dark.

Don't miss "Oh Sweet Melissa" ride at the park

When I get ready to go to an amusment park these days, I have everything I need in a bag, with special accessories. a few snacks and lots of water.  Too bad I can’t pack what I had as a little kid.  It isn’t the same thrill as it was back then.  I used to get so hyped up on anticipation of “the best day of my life” that I dreamed would come in the morning.  I think I found the adult version of this same feeling…  It’s Sweet Melissa.

I’m not going to have to wait in line, no ticket and I get to ride over and over.  The thrill is back and NO, I coulnd’t sleep last night.  She invited me to her office today by asking me while I had quickly thrown her on my bed, fully clothed and hoped ontop of her for a little kiss and choke.  We didn’t have time, as we never have, to do more than make out.  I’m sick of this teasing, I want her body now.  I was scared at first and would run away, and she would chase… Now it has reversed, but I wont be so coy and let her run away from me.  I will go into her office, trying to play it cool in case she has clients, and trying to not fall to my knees begging or eatting.  She told me to wear my black and cream 40’s style secretary dress and red heels to match the red lipstick she requested.  “Bring a ruler” she said before she left my room last night.  She smiled back at me with her sexy impish smile, hidden a little bit by her blond hair  falling in her face.  She brushed it back and grabed me for a kiss with her perfectly plump lips that I want to mold into a sex toy and sell for millions.  She is so fucking sexy, I don’t doubt everyone wants to bed her.

I packed my bag with the necsessities, like a dildo, some KY jelly (for some body slime fun), and a camera and tri-pod.   Everythign needed for my adult theme park adventure.  More of the excitement is not knowing if she is going to take charge or am I.  I will sharpen her pencils, type up her memos or answer phones… or get on my hands and knees for her…  what ever she asks.  If she asks nothing, I am going to grab her by her hair and force her to her knees.  I am going to dominate her like she has never been.  She will love to be forced into submission to me and we will make love with each other in a vulgar and “Sweet Melissa” way.  Then I will make out with her pussy, sucking on her clit and eat her ass in between the spanks.

Oh. Sweet Melissa I can’t wait to go on your ride.  Just 2 more hours.  Getting ready now. 

I will have some pics to add to my other blog for you readers to see.  Gotta be a little sweeter on this blog.

We’re All Meat Puppets After All

Sometimes I prefer cyberspace to meatspace.  After I finished writing that little lot, I logged on, found my girlfriend and got her to read it.  I asked her if I’d written a jazzy rollercoaster – that’s what André Brink said about Moxyland, after all.  “No,” she said, much to my disappointment, “it is like reading about another country that is fascinating, that you feel you ought to know about and are a bit embarrassed, because you don’t.”  I’m not sure what that means, but the addition of the comment enhances the whole meta thing, don’t you think?  Now it’s interactive too.  So hip.  So postmodern.  Plus, it bumps up the word count a little without me having to write and gets the thing proof-read at the same time.  Win!

Scar felt just a little foolish seeing the photo.  She’d probably ridden past Java Divers Coffee Shop on Main like, about a billion times, without taking any notice of it at all.  Well, it was a Hetero Hangout and if she’d walked in through the front door, her whole appearance, never mind the pink triangle, would have alerted Security to an unwanted Queer presence and she’d have been ushered out, possibly with a cattle-prod.  Was the shop just a front, or an unwitting and unwilling accomplice?  Bizarre to think that at least in theory, Scar’s future would be full of places like that and devoid of places like Charmageddon.  She thought about her brave and beautiful tribe and felt a wave of pure sadness.  Justice is for winners; whoever said that was spot on.

Still no joy with Troy’s posts, they still all seemed to be all about coffee – no subtext.  Or did they change the code when a new batch infiltrated, to maintain cover?  If only Helen or Anders would stop being quite so freaking Het!

In fact, Helen and Anders seemed rampantly Hetero.  They strolled hand in hand, they sat with their knees touching and although their public displays of affection were never lewd, they formed a barrier Scar couldn’t get past.  Helen’s hair was growing more slowly than Scar’s mop, but it was far more femme; she had that whole sleek and gamine raven’s wing bob thing going on.  Scar wondered how a girl’s haircut got a boy’s name anyway.  Helen had a mannish way of walking, but a decidedly feminine way of doing everything else and Scar found she was spending more and more time gazing at her.  Anders was beautiful too and constantly attentive.  Scar would say howzit, the twosome would give her one serene smile and Scar would shuffle and retreat again.

She couldn’t even find Helen on Facebook.

Another night spent reading endless data about coffee.  No reply from the Empress, nothing new from Troy – nothing but bloody coffee.  More days spent smiling at Carrie and discussing possible jobs, hobbies, lives.  Scar felt like she was so damn deep undercover she’d never escape.

I signed this project up for NaNoWriMo too, as a way to stay motivated.  I think I started on the 9th of November, when everyone was supposed to have something like ten thousand words done already.  Will I catch up?  Who knows.

Staring despairingly at a small, white pill on yet another breakfast tray on yet another morning, Scar became aware of Maria hovering rather expectantly on the periphery.  “Here we are now,” said Scar to Maria, “entertain us.”  She had no clue why she’d said it.  Maria grinned suddenly, a smile like a sunrise.  She sat down opposite Scar and toasted her with her own little medication kit and cup.  “What a drag it is getting up,” she said.  Scar laughed and the day began.

She wondered if she knew Maria from Charmageddon maybe.  She wondered why she didn’t recognise anyone in the clinic.  She wondered where the fuck the revolution was anyway.

I found out later that there were more clinics – I just didn’t know how extensive the operation was at the time.  So of course what they did was split Queers up on a geographical basis.  People I knew were indeed getting deprogrammed at the same time as I was, some of them right there in Generika City.  Meantime, there I was, stuck and going rapidly batshit.

Scar found her mood lifting slowly, imperceptibly and she assumed it was due to the pills, until she found herself gazing with even more intensity than usual at Helen one day.  She hauled her emotions out, picked through them and diagnosed a big, fat crush.  Unrequited – the purest kind.  That face, framed by that hair … that smile … the way the muscles of her ass still showed under those skirts … yup, Scar was officially Helen-struck.

“China, you wanna maybe slap on your shades when you’re doing that,” said Maria at breakfast one morning.  “What?” squeaked Scar and Maria rolled her eyes.  “Mooning about after Helen, man – it’s lank obvious and you know the rapists are gonna freak.”  The rapists, therapists; inspeak, clinicspeak.  Scar felt a blush race up her face and Maria grinned, “Lekker!  You can take the Queer outa the ghetto, but …”  Busted.

Thing was, Maria could have been a mole.  The Queer Quarter had been full of tales of spies and the Hetero Superstructure certainly had the time, the resources and the dedication.  Scar had a feeling she wasn’t going to be able to bluff her way out of it though.  She also had a feeling that Maria might very well be cool.  Fuck it, she thought to herself and grinned back.

You Can’t Take the Ghetto From the Queer

“Oh Maria, the hills may be alive with moles, but I don’t think I give a shit today,” said Scar, giving Maria a very direct and old fashioned sort of a look.  Maria laughed, tapped the side of her nose, winked and walked off.  Scar realised she was shaking, sweating and grinding her teeth gently.  Shit, shit shit, what if …?

Welcome, Siri!  You have [1] new message.
Click …
Java Divers has chosen YOU to receive a limited edition loyalty card, with a 10% discount on all FatMugs of house-blend served at Java Divers main branch this year!  Simply use the code JAV/7894 and enjoy your favourite coffee at 10% off!

Oh yeah, like she was going to get out of Queercatraz in a hurry.

Maria just waved from across the canteen the next day, Helen was in a huddle with Anders and so Scar just swallowed another pill, daydreamed Helen into a pair of ass-hugging jeans and wandered off to therapy.  Carrie seemed even perkier than usual, which put her on about the same level as a chipmunk on acid.  “Siri, you’re integrating so well, that the board has decided to give you a City pass-out!” she warbled.  Scar perked right up too.  It meant you could go on supervised and approved trips to venues in Generika, it meant she’d get to go breathe some decent pollution for a change and hang around places that weren’t goddamn pastel.  It meant that for a while at least, she would be under heightened scrutiny, but it meant some freedom too.

Anders didn’t seem especially enthralled to be assigned as Scar’s trusty the following Saturday, but Scar didn’t care.  Looking ruefully down at her shaved legs, she imagined the reactions down at Charmageddon – woooo check out the femme!  The clinic shuttle dropped them off on Main and Anders chose a table smack bang in the middle of the place.  There wouldn’t be any cosy conversation then.  He keyed in his order into the JavaPad on the table and raised two perfect eyebrows at Scar.  She asked for house-blend and he keyed that in, then muttered, “Gotta code?”  “Pardon?” asked Scar and Anders looked slightly impatient.  “Discount code, yo.” quoth he.  Scar fumbled it out of her (oh gods) handbag and handed it over.  Was she imagining it, or did Anders’ left eyebrow elevate just a little higher at that point?

The mugs arrived and Scar sat back to watch the passing parade.  Anders examined his fingernails, his mug; he hardly spoke at all.  Just before the shuttle arrived outside afterwards though, he touched Scar lightly just above her right elbow and made eye-contact.  “Search Troyville on Facebook.” he said quietly, then got into the shuttle and ignored her for the rest of the ride.

The rest of the day blurred by as usual, strictly according to schedule.  Scar felt renewed, like she’d been given a key.  She itched to get online and after the usual bland evening meal, she logged on to Java Divers and Facebook.

Welcome, Siri!  You have [1] new notification.
There is [1] new post by The Empress.
Click …
Nothing is pure vanilla anymore, it’s all that poncey stuff from Madagascar.  Stick to the house mix kiddo and all the best.

Replies had been disabled, the thread locked.

Facebook, then.

Search: Troyville
Results: 357 733
Filter: Applications
Results: 1
Click …
Troyville needs to access your profile, blah blah blah …
Allow

Welcome to Troyville, Siri!  If you have a voucher, please input it now.

JAV/7894

Choose your avatar.

Scar’s eyes widened as she scrolled through all of the little cartoon possibilities – they were, well, exceedingly dykey.

Hair: brown
Length: no.1
Physique: average
Eyes: blue
Nose: average caucasian
Mouth: small
Trousers: ripped, faded jeans
Shirt: retro geek tee
Shoes: blue Converse like Kurt’s
Accessories: wallet-chain, heavy silver rings, goddess symbol
SAVE

Holy fuck, but that felt good.

You have now reached the encrypted page YOVILLE+TR

*VOTE VETO*

She almost wept.  This was it, this was the underground, in all its one-dimensional  glory.

Input Troyville details here!
Name: Scar

You have been assigned the rank *Maniac*

Welcome to your new apartment!  You have *10 000* TroyGold to spend.

A whole heap of clicks and drags and saves later, Scar had a virtual space that made her feel like herself again.  Bookshelves crawled the walls around serious screens and street art filled the rest.  The bathroom was clean and private, the double bed was comfortable and blue.

What Goes on in Troyville Stays in Troyville

That was the last message Scar saw before the screenfeed clicked off for the night, leaving her wired awake in bed, wondering what was going to happen next.

What happened next was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.  She got up, exhausted and went to breakfast.  Maria gave her a friendly smile and suggested vitamin B.  Helen and Anders floated around in their bubble.  Carrie bounced about in hers.  Stephen graduated and was off to a job in cybernetics and an apartment in a halfway compound for rehabbed Queers.  Carrie put Scar’s added cheerfulness down to the stability of her medication and involvement in the programme.  Scar kept her pass-out privileges and the next time she went out, Helen was standing at the shuttle stop.

“Hey there, Siri!”
“Hello” (Can’t she tell I’ve dedicated all of my orgasms to her?)
“Ready to go?”
“Sure” (Oh hell yes, if you only knew …)

Off to Java Diver again and Helen picked a booth in a corner.  Orders keyed in and codes too and Helen took a deep breath, making extended and pleasurable eye-contact.  Scar felt her knees buckle.  For fucksakes, this wasn’t the time to be such a drip.  “It’s not safe to say too much hey,” said Helen, “but you do need to know that I’m your liaison and that Plan Q is going well.”  Scar started to ask her what the hell Plan Q was all about, but Helen shook her head and said, “Troyville, ne?” and so Scar shut the fuck up again.

“Anders?” she asked, dry mouthed as the Karoo.  Helen grinned and said, “All fake, man, all fake.  The faggot’s just playing a part, like all of us – like you, I hope.”  Helen refused to say more, refused to even tell Scar whether Maria was cool or not.  The only other info Scar got, was that her Troyville neighb0rgs would include her fellow clinic inmates, but that the cover must not, under any circs, be blown.  Scar just nodded and drank yet another mug of muddy brown house-blend.

She spent her nights in Troyville trying to peel the queer from the neighb0rgs and work out who was who in the meatspace zoo.  She was pretty sure Helen was Her0 – her avatar looked fairly close to her offline self, she was just dressed way different.  Scar sent her flowers.  Maria was mercifully easy to work out, she was, unbelievable, even more femme in cyberspace and went by the name Kitten.  Veto was there, but busy and rarely accessible and happily, joyfully, disturbingly – Dave!  Dave was there as Bear, of course, just the same as when Scar had last seen him.  Turned out he was still out in the Queer Quarter, that he’d been behind Scar’s migration all along.  Scar wasn’t sure whether to hug him or smack him.  Stephen was there too, the Halfway Hero, telling the clinic-bound about the other Queers there on Planet Hetero, planning his own infiltration, getting instructions from Veto.

Helen of Troyville was now disturbing my days and nights almost full time.  I was smitten, to put it mildly and beyond the damn revolution, I just plain liked her. I checked out the books in her virtual apartment and sent her other books I thought she’d like, since the flowers hadn’t seemed to have impressed her much at all.  I became obsessed with holding her hand, grabbing her butt and … I wanted to dive into her with my tongue and never leave.  Even knowing the Anders thing was a set-up, I was as jealous as hell.  I wanted time with the woman – acres of it.  She started sending me books too, we started hanging out online a lot; it was fucking brilliant.

Message: Her0
Subject: intel
Content: skin on skin the revolution begins … {alix olson}
Send

The screenfeed died and Scar spent another sleepless night, groaning alternately in pleasure and despair.  Another day, another tray … more therapy.  Running the cross-country course later, just to get some alone time, Scar’s footfalls echoed to her own marching beat, “I’m lonely, leave me alone …”

“Scar!”

Scar screeched to a halt.  “Helen?”  Helen was morbing, Scar had never seen her without that trademark smile before.  “Your message ..” Scar blushed and shuffled her feet, feeling like a bashful boi again.  “If only,” said Helen, sadly, “but the Plan … well, I graduate tomorrow.  Anders and I are leaving.”  Scar felt as though she’d been flung, splat into some kind of Juliet and Juliet plot.  The sky grew even lonelier, but wait a minute; Helen liked her!

Helen put her hand on either side of Scar’s face … and kissed her.

Then she ran, shockingly fast, towards the main building.  Scar fell over trying to follow her and then she couldn’t find her.  Maria found Scar weeping, got her a sleeper and sent her to bed.  Good thing too, or who knows what might have happened.  Something inappropriate and futile for sure.

Skin on Skin

Days blurred by again and somebody upped Scar’s meds.  Carrie reassured her that transitions were always tough and gave her an extra pass-out.  That time, Scar landed up sitting morosely at JD with Maria, slurping house-blend.  Rifling idly through the newspaper on the table, Scar stopped at a full-page of rather different print.

Plan Q

“Read it,” said Maria, “ and then leave it.”  Maria buried her head in the job ads while Scar read.

So the revolution didn’t work.  Pride marches didn’t work.  Violence didn’t work and neither did non-violence.  In less than a century, heteronormative society managed to segregate and hate queers again.

Scar found herself nodding, till Maria kicked her shin sharply under the table.

The only way we’re ever going to regain any liberties at all, is by infiltration.  For that reason, many of you have had to leave your homes and whatever security you might have had, to either go underground, or to the front lines.  More of you than we care to consider are stuck in mental institutions, medicated into passivity.

Scar palled, she’d heard about things like that and never wanted to believe it.

Your mission – and it’s too late to refuse it now, is to continue with the heterofication process, remain compliant and wait for further instructions.  You’ll be transferred to a halfway house within a week and assigned a liaison officer.

This message will not self-destruct – we hope you won’t either.

They finished their coffee and returned to the clinic.  Everything went on as inexorably, as tediously as before, but there was light at the end of that particular tunnel now.  Troyville continued to keep Scar relatively sane, especially the night she got a message from Her0.

I miss you.

Feverishly, frantically she replied, I miss you too!  She hit refresh over and over, hoping Helen was online.  Nothing.  She rearranged her virtual books and moped around.

Her days altered gradually as her graduation date loomed.  They didn’t make a fuss about it publicly, they didn’t want the regime of the clinic disturbed, but there was an air of expectancy.  At her final session with Carrie, she was given a WatchFeed – she’d definitely been escalated.  Hets always got the best tech and now she’d be connected, to everything, 24/7.

Halfway to Somewhere

The shuttle dropped Scar off at what looked like a Tuscan rabbit warren – a style invented by Queers and promptly ripped off and commercialised by the Hetero world.

OK, most lesbians might not be famed for their sense of style, but jeez that place was just maxed out kitsch, man!  Picture my little halfway home, all tricked out in subtle shades of reds, pinks, oranges.  Not a glimmer of blue anywhere, which made me shake a bit.  I just don’t feel right without blue, man.

Scar didn’t recognise any of the other denizens of the halfway point.  Then again, there wasn’t time for too much socialising now; meals weren’t communal anymore, Scar’s medication arrived by courier in weekly batches.  She geared it down to one pill every two days, ground the rest up and fed them to a Yucca.

After an intensive vocational session, Scar had been put forward for a low-tech, behind the scenes job in the city’s Intermodality Node.  She oversaw a bank of computer panels that connected shuttle stations.  Her days became a dance of connected colours, with a rhythm only ever disturbed by occasional power-outs.  She had coffee at JD once, with a guy called Devon from work; the newspapers in the coffee house were devoid of Plan Q and keying in her discount code, Scar felt lonely again.

You have [1] new message.

It was her watchfeed, pulsing discreetly.  Scar felt her saliva dry as she flicked her fingers over the display, accessing the message.

Stay Queer!

Ha, thought Scar, as if she had an option about that.  If there was any chance of turning authentically Hetero, she’d have done it by now.  The tech was so good, but no ways was her whole soul going to bend to make her a practising Het.  She’d tried out sex with a dude when she was 17, after all and she just couldn’t do it.  Not dissing men, she muttered, it just doesn’t work for me.  At all.

Being Queer had become so political.  Scar thought back to when it was mainly about same-sex relationships and fashion, not social marginalisation.  Back in the day, when you could get any job and buy any tech you liked.  Scar sighed; she missed the Quarter, even with all its restrictions.  She missed seeing pink triangles on woman and wondering which woman was the one.  She wondered, if she’d found her, if she’d have left at all.

Scar stayed queer.

You have [1] new message.

Click!

OK Scar, damn you, but here’s the thing.  I can’t stop wondering about you, I think I’m obsessed.  Actually, I think I’m in love.  I think you’ve got a trojan virus, yo.

As Scar ran virus checks and security updates, she wondered whether the pun was a chat-up or a threat.  System was clear anyway and Scar smiled wider than wide.

There was no doubt Helen was a true blue lesbo – confessing love before the first date, never mind the second.  Well, there was that kiss.  Scar smiled stupidly as she replayed it; the kiss that had literally taken her breath from her and left her feeling stoned.

I asked my mate Hippolyta to read my shit too – she said she loved it, even though it’s rough and needs editing.  Fucking grammar nazi … I love that woman, but if she thinks I am editing this crap, she can go jump.  All I care about is hitting the word count target and right now I am on 8 851.  Head’s aching and pounding like a total bitch too and while I’m at it, I can’t even read other shit to unwind.  I’m awash in fucking words.  Mika looked surprised yesterday when I told her I’d just signed up for NaNoWriMo.  “You haven’t got much time left, Petal,” she said in her odd mix of Geordie-German English.  Yeah, I know, I am supposed to be writing away in tortured and splendid isolation, but have you taken a look at cyberspace lately?  Words jostling around shielding their binary, yelling for attention and gone in three seconds.  Everything’s disposable man; you, me, the world – everything.  I’m just trying to pin this butterfly to the board before it all changes again.

Helen … talking about love in the time of trojan viruses seems strange to me – and wonderful.  I think we’re on the same page, like those jargon loving Hets say.  When can I see you again?  Dammit, when can I kiss you again?

Another incoming Facebook notification popped up in its merry little red square.

You have been invited to join “I bet we can find 1 000 000 Trojans on Facebook!”
Accept?
y/n

yes.

Those were just the kind of messages that Scar habitually sent to the trash.  How the fuck was a Facebook group ever going to change anything?  Constant barrages of join my cause, join my group, become a fan of me … what was the use of any of it?  But she couldn’t resist anything Helen related.  She had no intention of resisting Helen.

Oh Scar, you can kiss me now.  If only.  Where are you in this demented city?  I just got a job managing Java Divers – you can guess the implications.  Can you make it here anytime soon?

Could she?

Helen, if you fuckers would open 24 hours I’d be there now.  Instead, Generika’s newest Intermodalities Connection Technician (3rd class) will be at your door as soon as possible after tomorrow’s early shift.  I wouldn’t bother with lipstick if I was you.

Scar!  I think you mean, “if I WERE you.”

Helen … no I didn’t.

The shift passed achingly slowly, colour to colour, connections buzzing and whirring their way around the city, getting the drones to work and home and shops.

You have [1] new message.

Click …

Thank you for joining I bet we can find 1 000 000 Trojans on Facebook!” – shifting the system sideways, one face at a time.

Oh, yup.  Whatever.

Scar didn’t bother changing before she raced off to JD.  Civvies would have meant a dress, since rehabbed Queers’ dress style was watched fiercely by the board.  Her techie outfit, however, was almost dykey.  Orange city overalls with the Intermodality cable logo on the pocket – nerdy, but still better than a dress, no doubt.  The safety boots were the best part of the ensemble, Scar felt almost like her old self as she pushed the door open, casting anxiously about for Helen.

There she was, standing behind the counter, brow furrowed in deep conversation with a barrista-bot.  Scar hadn’t realised you could converse with those things, or was Helen about to reprogram it?  Helen looked pretty fit in the Javalicious corporate uniform – one of those severe business suits, all pencil skirt and straight (ha!) lines.  And lipstick.  Scar grinned.

You youngsters might think it was trivial of me to be chasing skirt during a revolution, but you gotta remember that the whole infiltration process was a painfully slow and gradual thing.  What took under a year for me, had already been in motion for about five years.  That year felt like ten anyway.  Also, what’s the point of being queer if you can’t, you know, be queer?  You know what I’m saying?  Anyway, I know you’re all drooling to know if we kissed, if I ever got my hands on Helen’s perfect ass and all that, but I just hit my word count target for the day, so I’m going to go chill the hell out now.