Comfortably numb

My fellow inmates...

When Shelly West Sang "Jose Cuervo, you are no friend of mine" she had obviously not ever dealt with the rainclouds and gloom that can hang over a group of people when emptiness and uncertainty loom in our daily actions.

Yesterday I received an angry message from someone in regards to the video I posted, and my seeming nonchalant ability to continue forward in the face of someone so important to me passing caused them to be disgusted.

Though In my opinion, I rarely explain myself to anyone, granted those who read this blog know that this is actually a pile of bullshit carefully hidden underneath buttercream frosting...

I am human, it's what we do, and it was what this person was doing when they growled at me for what appeared to him to be me moving on too quickly...

Now in the process of collecting my thoughts to write this post, I went and poured myself a Gin and Tonic made with a particularly scary looking lime that I found growling at me from the back of the fridge...

Eh, I was in the mood, and I was bigger than the lime...

I realized as the ice cubes swirled amongst each other, that anger is natural, confusion is natural, and Alcohol is.... well ok dependant on the type of alcohol, Antifreeze or NyQuil notwithstanding, but yes natural as well...

This issue of James's Death didn't make me an alcoholic, I have had years of practice... :)

Look, here is the thing, If you chastise me for continuing to be myself, then you definitely didn't know shit about who James was behind the curtain of Bodisama, and pretty much less about me and how I function and deal with things.

James would always say "It's hard to be Brittany."

I think back now to his meaning of this... I always assumed just the basic humor of this statement. Images of Brittany Spears, head half shaved, daemons licking at her toes as the limelight shined on her face...

But now I wonder... James was a complex man, many expected the world of him, and forgot he was human with his own fragility. His strive to create "Bodisama" took on a life of its own, and many people knew the fantasy, and expected him to "preform" when they met him... a trained monkey... a top kept by certain members of our communities expectations.

It was amazing to me how many times, when I was around him in public, people from our community would walk up and say "Excuse me, but aren't you Bodisama?". He was always cordial though, like a trained tiger in a petting zoo, he loved the attention the whole while on the lookout for easy prey.

Our understanding of each other formed over the computer... An acquaintance, as James would call it, not a friend. Expectations were of course set before we ever met at IML... It was all on my head, I strived to live up to his, and was very conscious in my attempts to not make him live up to mine.

James, Matt and I spent the whole time together at IML, I actually only stayed in my room the first night, before they ever arrived.

It's quite interesting, to think about it now, They have moved IML back to the Hyatt. This was the same hotel where I first met James and spent every waking moment with him. I wonder my emotional reaction as I walk the skyway, where we sat in the evenings and bullshitted for hours.

They say to every ounce of depreciating humor, there is a shot of truth, if there wasn't it wouldn't be poignant, and it wouldn't be funny. My motto in life at the point, is "Live your life out loud".

In response to this a friend recently posted "umm, yeah, some of us think you need to pipe down."

I spent the last few days with my grandmother, who is 93 years old. She is currently in a hospital bed in my Dad's living room, is on morphine, and is not expected to last through the weekend.

Pauline, or Omi, as we call her... Which is a bastardization of the German "Oma", and roughly translates to "Grammy"... Has live a life that no one should have.

When she was a little girl her and her sister hid under a pile of clothing and blankets in a closet as the Nazi's ransacked her family's home looking for them. They were lucky as they were not located. Her parents however were taken away that day, and she never saw them again.

They scraped up money from where they could, bribed German officials, and later, with her new husband, got out of Germany... Her "Jude" Star to this day is proudly displayed.

And in fact, with her health failing, she told me she has lived every day of her life proud of the fact that she has cost Germany Money, for every month she receives a check from the German government for reparations for the atrocities committed.

Hated and killed for just being who they were...

I consider the Gay's plight in the United States at the moment akin to the civil rights movement of the blacks half a century ago...

An African American co-worker of mine heard me say this and went ape shit. "Its not even close!" He said "The Gays never suffered slavery at the hands of their own country!"

"Really?" I Replied; "Well Ron, I am a jew as well, and you bitch over 100's of years of Slavery, of which you have never tasted an ounce of... Try 1000's of years, and we have yet to find the balls to ask the Egyptians for any reparations!"

He had no answer to that...

So yes, I live my life out loud. I live my life proudly, and I marvel at scaring straight people any chance I can get as I walk down the Streets of Seattle fully geared.

So am I damaging our image like those tweenies that heavyhand the lisp and add some extra twinkle in their step as they walk?

Perhaps...

But just remember that the uprising of the queeny fags in the 1970's against the persecution of the times lead to our blossoming acceptance that is happening now.

I have also heard, in regards to my facebook group, the preference of not throwing sex in to families faces.

I consider my life, and my needs, and my partners life and his needs who I am... who we are. It goes way beyond sex...

Pride is not a fair weather term...

When my partner and I visited my Grandmother on Thursday she was fairly scattered. She was drugged up to keep the pain and anxiety at bay...

Just before we left, as she was nodding off for a nap, her eyes sprung open, and in a moment of obvious clarity she focused right on my partner, smiled, waved and said "Hi Jay!"

Those will probably be the last words I here her speak...

If a 93 year old woman, who has been to hell and back, can accept and embrace, with full knowledge in her mind of who I am inside (yes I told her as well), and yet my happiness is paramount even on her deathbed...

Then really, Fuck anyone else that can't take it...

With that, visiting time is over.

Whatever you do, don't scream too loud as others are trying to sleep.

~Rubberasylum