"Do you know what people did in the old days when they had secrets they didn't want to share? They'd climb a moutain, find a tree, carve a hole in it, whisper the secret into the hole and cover it up with mud. That way, nobody else would ever learn the secret..." -Tak, 2046

This is my tree with its hole carved sitting on top of a mountain. 
I'm an asshole. That's my secret. I am misanthropic, I hate everyone. The kicker is that secretly I hate myself.

Today was not a good day. Not a shining moment for me. I sped over to my car dealership at the last minute to see if they could figure out what was wrong with my nav system...this place has the most obscene parking lot in the universe. On top of that, I accidentally parked in the handicapped parking spot so I had to move my car twice. The second time I was stuck behind people in a car, while waiting for this woman to get out...I didn't know what they were doing at first, just seemed like they were sitting there in the parking lot...in the way. I honked lightly, not too much. I honked twice though. Then the old lady comes up to me and trys to talk to me threw the window but I'm shaking my head and mouthing at her to leave me alone and go away. I can't deal with it.

Later she comes in to the garage, calling me sir and stuff, telling me about how she's on chemotherapy and she doesn't move very quickly and she was stuck in between two kids trying to get out of the car. It's all I can do not to scream. I just want to die, right there. I'm still not clear on why she was even there in the first place. It's like the universe is teaching me a lesson...this whole month has been full of lessons. Maybe I should just kill myself and get it over with.

M. has been telling me that I need to let go of my anger. I don't even know how. I feel like my anger protects me from harm, until things like this happen. Then I am just humiliated and I want to disappear. I wish the ground would just open up and swallow me forever. 

So there it is, I'm an asshole.


Gay is NOT the "New Black"

Although the hubbub has died down around the catchphrase that so-called GLBTQ activists coined, “Gay is the new Black”, I feel like now I can coherently address the issues around it from my perspective as a queer-identified person of colour. 

The problem with this phrase, other than the obvious denigration of the Black experience, centres on choice. No, not the choice that the rabid Christian right is always squawking about…I am not talking about the choice to be GLBTQ, because as any educated person would know…it’s biological. I am talking about the choice to come out and identify oneself in the public sphere as GLBTQ.  This is key.

People of colour do not choose to identify as people of colour, we don’t “come out of the closet” so to speak about being Black, Latino, Asian etc. It is easily identifiable by our skin, our hair or our speech patterns among other things. It is written upon us for all to see. This is the difference between being a person of colour and being GLBTQ. Arguably you cannot “see” GLBTQ.

Identity politics aside, being identified as person of colour is not a choice. (White) GLBTQ people have a choice and the privilege to come out and be identified as GLBTQ. Those of us who are not White, and regardless of our sexuality, do not have that privilege. Therein lies the difference and should point out the issue in claiming that “gay is the new Black.” Black is still Black and the last time I checked, the civil rights struggle for racial equality was far from over.


Dead on the Vine

This whole new years shite isn't really working out for me. I thought it would be differently. The second week of unemployment I got two interviews but both of the turned out to be busts. I've applied to over thirty jobs in the past few weeks. 

I feel thinly spread, like I'm a tablespoon of butter over too many pieces of toast. Or maybe I'm the toast? I got sick too, mostly throat crap with some lovely feverish things. I think it's probably because I'm drinking too much. On the day of the interviews I holed up in a bar and got drunk on one-to-many martinis. It probably doesn't help that I started smoking again. I can smell the desperation on myself. It disgusts me. I'm fading away like smoke on a funeral pyre. 

I'm angry too. So angry. My old coworker has been ignoring my text messages and I'm frustrated by her passive jab at my dignity. Bitch. At least tell me you don't want to be friends any more. I yell at the smallest things. I just want to crawl into a hole and die.