Home > Uncategorized > Entry 09/17/2009 03:48:14 AM – Mentat 530

Entry 09/17/2009 03:48:14 AM – Mentat 530

09/17/2009
 

     Well, I’m home and while I had a fun time in Boston, I’m finding myself in the middle of frustration with a POS DVD from Disney that in their infinite wisdom, choked positively to death with DRM bullshit.  Not only did the DVD not load up, but attempting to watch the Digital Copy through iTunes was a complete fucking waste of my time.  The quality seemed all right, but the when it got close to the chapter change the thing would spike up the CPU and the movie would skip like it had Tourette’s.  In fact, I let my aunt borrow the movie to tell me if there had been any problems with the DVD and when she told me there wasn’t, I’m probably going to gift it to her, given that I can’t watch it on my system.  Fucking piece of DRM shit!  Angry

     But enough on that shit, I’m in no mood fuming about this crap anymore.  If anything, I’m more than happy at the moment that I’m sitting here watching Battlestar Galactica with nary a skip or hesitation while working on this journal entry. 

 

     My trip went well, even though I didn’t go out for a drink on Sunday nor Monday.  The reason why I didn’t on Sunday is that when I got back from Newbury Street and wandering about to check the layout of the Copley area, saw that Fritz’s was wall to wall with queerfolk.  Not up for the amount of people that I saw in there, I said to myself, "what the hell, maybe tomorrow night." 

     The next night after waking up, having my usual large iced coffee, getting something to eat from a local eatery that looked appetizing enough to stop at, I wandered about a bit checking out the shopping experience on Newbury.  Getting back to the hotel I realized that it was wall to wall once again.  And unlike the night before, the instant I got a look at the television and seeing it was the Patriot’s opening day — I decided against it once again. 

     Now, don’t get me wrong — there are times when I don’t mind this — but 30 years out of the closet I’ve seen the changes going on within the "community".  Changes that I haven’t liked watching at all.  There has been an almost infectious attitude of internalized homophobia where gay men are trying their best not to be too nelly or too gay.  So gay men are trying their best to being butch without actually being masculine.  Which is a contradiction as my experience with gay men at jock/sports bars that while they might look masculine and carry themselves with such a swagger that they appear to be a man’s man — the instant that they open their mouths out pops a Gucci Purse.  Yes, that means they’re sounding as girly and as nelly as a queen during a drag show.  And the only people they seem to be fooling, are themselves. 

     Long ago, someone said to me, "Who do you think threw the rock through the window at the Stonewall Inn that started the Gay Revolution?  A drag queen!  And who do you think were the ones that marched in the parades for queers today to enjoy their pride and the rights that they bask in?  The fairies, the drag queens, the nelly boys, the gender benders, the transvestites and transsexuals, and the fags and dykes that couldn’t and wouldn’t hide.  And don’t forget for once it was them that continue to march for your rights." 

     The years from the incident at Stonewall, and the Pride Parades through the 70s and 80s queerfolk reveled in their reinventing the wheel.  Sometimes for the better, other times for the learning process that they would go through — took it upon themselves to shun the habits of the heterosexuals in their lives;  shunning sports, and being jocks (although no gay man would say no to a jock in their bed *grinning*) taking up cooking, gardening, poetry and the intellectual arts and so on.  As the years wore on and the fear and phobias because of AIDS and because queerfolk are "different" only in who they want to be intimate with, queerfolk began trying to be the same as those that hated them in order not to be shunned, or to be bashed.  But in doing so, in way queerfolk have slowly become that which hated them.  We bash our own that are too gay or too nelly.  Queerfolk now camouflage by being "straight acting" (Heh, how is one straight acting when a man is kissing a man, and a woman is kissing a woman?) and "butch".  Queerfolk now try to be just like the Joneses next door because it’s easier to be like everyone else for self-preservation instead of being themselves regardless of being too gay or too nelly. 

     Standing there outside of Fritz’s for those couple of moments while seeing folk packed wall to wall watching the game and attempting to look as "butch" as possible, I thought to myself out of the 300 or so people I could easily bet 20 of them were masculine.  The rest?  It was clearly nothing more than a performance trying to be something they weren’t…  And that something was, themselves. 

     So I called it a night and enjoyed my own company, reflecting upon the history and the revelations that I was having watching the folk in the bar, and the new dance that was being performed, and wondering, "Why are y’all so afraid of being yourselves?  What is so terrifying about being different?" 

 

     The rest of my trip was puttering around Haymarket Square, State Street and the New England Aquarium with the rest of the photos being seen at my Flickr account: http://www.flickr.com/photos/mbaldelli.  I admit that I didn’t take quite as many photos as I was planning to, but then again I wasn’t really back in Boston for sightseeing — I was there to remember the path that I’ve walked since coming out.  It was still nice to be out of my head for a little bit, and wandering about the roads and paths that I’ve wandered in the past. 

     The perk on this trip was finding Club Café over near the Back Bay Station and figuring out the memories I had of the place that I could only vaguely remember when I first saw it.  Glad to know that I’m not losing my memory — just that I have my head filled with all sorts of other things…. 

 

     Well that’s about it for the time being.  Until the next time.

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