Here's another pointed musing from Christopher Stevens
I don’t know about this marriage thing. I’m all for it, don’t get me wrong – I just don’t think it’s been thought through, regarding either the nature of the married state, or its effects on gay “culture.” Doesn’t it strike you as odd that Massachusetts legalized gay marriage, and within weeks BLÜ closed down? Did you think that was just because it had gotten DÜLL?
Chris survived the recent east coast hurricanes. In this piece, "Weather or Not One way or another, it’s the Bushes’ fault," he gives us his perspective from Atlanta
Have you noticed the weather lately? It’s been wetter than usual, which has been just hell on my commute and lots of peoples’ hair. And what’s up with the electricity in this town? It doesn’t even require a tropical depression – the merest drizzle seems to short out the entire city.
Gracious initial greetings to you all (or "y'all," depending on your region). David has requested (stern orders actually work better, but I'll get him trained eventually) that I post a little something to explain (or excuse) my presence here, especially as my emphasis in life is much more on mattress-moaning than matrimony. So here goes:
I agreed enthusiastically to contribute to this site because David asked me to, and I’m using him to get to Randy. If you can’t have a happy home, I always say, wreck one.
Or, do I really fall for compliments so easily [:)]?
I would like to know which criteria for [url="http://www.gayrites.net/thanks.asp"]"fantasy man of the century"[/url] I am missing, and which ones do I so nicely slide into (kinky mental image quite intentional [:D]).
Here's one to ignore: The clothes guy from "Queer Eye" (I can't recall his name. The blond guy who handles people's undies with tongs, as if he hasn't been face-down in worse) has a book out. I'll admit, bits of it are amusing, but all it is, is telling people how to look just like everyone else. What the hell is the point of that?
Here's another hysterical look at life from Chris Stevens
A friend e-mailed me at work recently, asking what a pink hanky in the left pocket meant. One of his co-workers had included this accessory in his “Casual-dress Friday” ensemble, and my friend was wild with curiosity.
If violence is the language of the inarticulate, then we were doomed to more war whichever way this election went. We could vote for Bush, who can’t form a sentence (can, in fact, barely form words), or for Kerry, who used many elegant sentences and grand words, but never quite got around to saying what he meant. Kerry at least was speaking his own thoughts. Bush is more like the Mouthpiece of Sauron in The Lord of the Rings – an empty shell who, having sold his soul to a power greater and more evil than himself, is sent forth to spout that power’s messages.
The Circle of Life
My boyfriend is Buddhist, which has given me some exotic food for thought (or food for exotic thought, whichever). One thought was that it would be cool to buy some land in Tennessee and open a Buddha-themed amusement park called “Dalai-Wood” (next to my Surrealist park, Dali-Wood). I haven’t quite worked out the mechanics or the finances of it yet, but the main attraction would be a rollercoaster that goes around and around, but is somehow different every time, and the only way to get off is to achieve Enlightenment, at which point you simply disappear into Nirvana.
A new feeling has come over me lately. It would be lovely if it was the Christmas Spirit, but it isn’t quite. It’s taken me a couple weeks to figure out what exactly it is, but I think I’ve diagnosed it. After years of varying degrees of depression, I’m finally getting a taste of that “manic” thing. I’m not sleeping well, and not minding it much, as it allows me to lie there thinking of lists of things to do, and plenty of time to do them. This could be not a good thing if it goes on for any great length of time, or becomes more pronounced, but it’s a boon at the holidays, let me tell you.