All backed up

I just have nothing mean to say.
I must be constihated.

apparently more than 1

i think i just got home from the first real date i've had in a long time.

monkeys make me giggle :)

September 9, 1943 : this means war

DETACHMENT 1511TH SERVICE UNIT
ARMED FORCES INDUCTION STATION # 7
CINCINNATI, OHIO

You are now a soldier in the army of the United states, as such you are subject to military law, and the Articles of War, as was explained to you at the time of your induction by the Induction Officer.

.........As a soldier you have new responsibilities. They are to yourself as a soldier, to the country, and to the men in service with whom you will soon serve. ..........so that your detail will perform the travel from this station to your Local Board, and back to the Reception Center, on time, and in a soldierly manner.

One of your group has been appointed acting Corporal. He may be a close friend of yours, or a stranger .................... Cooperate with him so that your detail will creditably handle its first assignment but remember he has authority to direct you by order.

After you reach home you have time to straighten out your personal affairs.

On September 9, 1943 you will assemble at 8:30 a.m. EWT at your local board.

........... You should bring a minimum of Civilian clothing with you to the Reception Center ............. The following will suffice: Small traveling bag containing one suit of underwear, one extra pair of socks and necessary toilet articles including a face and bath towel. You should present a neat clean appearance when you reach the Reception Center. Your hair should be cut and your fingernails clean.

Remember you are now a soldier. Let your actions be so governed.

Charles V. Sexton
Captain, Infantry

gravel

sickness and sweetness and
i
thought you
and i laugh
what did it happen?
eh
when and what and who and
so i smile and i run and i run
run to morrow
roow morrow and i think that i sing i
think that i sin ecstatic

Incapable

I am incapable of taking care of myself.

childhood

poor quality warning... but you get it

part 1

part 2

becoming sacred

i scream a pail
pale
i scream a pale ecstatic
and she screams a pale yellow

i live in a bolder state

i see and i see and i forget and i
i
want
there are so many things i want

and i smile and i ring not now
not
and scream to the echo of a yowl and a
cococoocooo choo
and you smile back and smile back
and
smile

---


i used to write like that all the time.... maybe i should again

savory angels

stalin said something once and this week i'm reminded of it. it's something like:

one murder is a tragedy. one million murders are a statistic.

i see 33 dead on a college campus in a seemingly suburban section of the eastern united states and, although i feel for the families of those involved and the community abroad, i'm also angry that we as american public are so self righteous and arrogant to think that this sort of violence should not happen inside of our borders.

in other sections of the globe the mass murder of innocents is a monthly, if not more frequent, occurence, yet we expect the international community to bow and send their prayers for our tragedy. from what i remember the parliament bombing in iraq was not more than a blip on the media screens here, sandwiched somewhere between brittney and dog food.

i've heard the words global village and international community thrown around, sentiments implying that we are all in this together. but the fundamental hubris and ignorance that has settled into our country's culture has led to a callous attitude that pervades our society. it seems our leaders, our media, ourselves, have come to think of violence outside of the lines drawn on our maps as commonplace, as something to be ignored. 'it happens all the time there, so it's different'. any act of violence, no matter how far away or how frequent it happens, is a tragedy, especially when the victims are people that are blind to its source as so often happens in other countries. where are the black, yellow, pink, purple, red, green whatever ribbons for bombings in gaza, or the vigils for those left dead in the wake of south american land cartels?

when i was in high school an acquaintance of mine shot himself in the head one day before school. he wasn't popular, quite the opposite. but out of the woodwork fat ugly girls walked down the hallways crying not even knowing his last name and feigning sorrow to cover up an instinctual fear of death and its proximity. about a month later, another acquaintance of mine was shot in the face in a random drive by. he survived but has permanent brain injuries, but for weeks was in critical condition at the hospital. those same fat girls knew him, but no tears were shed. why? he went to another high school.

i see that reflected now, every day through pictures on the internet and the television. fat ugly girls crying for people they don't know, while people they should shed tears for die on a daily basis.

i hate fat girls.

Tarrlytons

(click for animation)

Sexy?

Our Prejudices, Ourselves

"Our Prejudices, Ourselves"

Harvey Fierstein

AMERICA is watching Don Imus's self-immolation in a state of shock and awe. And I'm watching America with wry amusement.

Since I'm a second-class citizen -- a gay man -- my seats for the ballgame of American discourse are way back in the bleachers. I don't have to wait long for a shock jock or stand-up comedian to slip up with hateful epithets aimed at me and mine. Hate speak against homosexuals is as commonplace as spam. It's daily traffic for those who profess themselves to be regular Joes, men of God, public servants who live off my tax dollars, as well as any number of celebrities.

In fact, I get a good chuckle whenever someone refers to "the media" as an agent of "the gay agenda." There are entire channels, like Spike TV, that couldn't fill an hour of programming if required to remove their sexist and homophobic content. We've got a president and a large part of Congress willing to change the Constitution so they can deprive of us our rights because they feel we are not "normal."

So I'm used to catching foul balls up here in the cheap seats. What I am really enjoying is watching the rest of you act as if you had no idea that prejudice was alive and well in your hearts and minds.

For the past two decades political correctness has been derided as a surrender to thin-skinned, humorless, uptight oversensitive sissies. Well, you anti-politically correct people have won the battle, and we're all now feasting on the spoils of your victory. During the last few months alone we've had a few comedians spout racism, a basketball coach put forth anti-Semitism and several high-profile spoutings of anti-gay epithets.

What surprises me, I guess, is how choosy the anti-P.C. crowd is about which hate speech it will not tolerate. Sure, there were voices of protest when the TV actor Isaiah Washington called a gay colleague a "faggot." But corporate America didn't pull its advertising from "Grey's Anatomy," as it did with Mr. Imus, did it? And when Ann Coulter likewise tagged a presidential candidate last month, she paid no real price.

In fact, when Bill Maher discussed Ms. Coulter's remarks on his HBO show, he repeated the slur no fewer than four times himself; each mention, I must note, solicited a laugh from his audience. No one called for any sort of apology from him. (Well, actually, I did, so the following week he only used it once.)

Face it, if a Pentagon general, his salary paid with my tax dollars, can label homosexual acts as "immoral" without a call for his dismissal, who are the moral high and mighty kidding?

Our nation, historically bursting with generosity toward strangers, remains remarkably unkind toward its own. Just under our gleaming patina of inclusiveness, we harbor corroding guts. America, I tell you that it doesn't matter how many times you brush your teeth. If your insides are rotting your breath will stink. So, how do you people choose which hate to embrace, which to forgive with a wink and a week in rehab, and which to protest? Where's my copy of that rule book?

Let me cite a non-volatile example of how prejudice can cohabit unchecked with good intentions. I am a huge fan of David Letterman's. I watch the opening of his show a couple of times a week and have done so for decades. Without fail, in his opening monologue or skit Mr. Letterman makes a joke about someone being fat. I kid you not. Will that destroy our nation? Should he be fired or lose his sponsors? Obviously not.

But I think that there is something deeper going on at the Letterman studio than coincidence. And, as I've said, I cite this example simply to illustrate that all kinds of prejudice exist in the human heart. Some are harmless. Some not so harmless. But we need to understand who we are if we wish to change. (In the interest of full disclosure, I should confess to not only being a gay American, but also a fat one. Yes, I'm a double winner.)

I urge you to look around, or better yet, listen around and become aware of the prejudice in everyday life. We are so surrounded by expressions of intolerance that I am in shock and awe that anyone noticed all these recent high-profile instances. Still, I'm gladdened because our no longer being deaf to them may signal their eventual eradication.

The real point is that you cannot harbor malice toward others and then cry foul when someone displays intolerance against you. Prejudice tolerated is intolerance encouraged. Rise up in righteousness when you witness the words and deeds of hate, but only if you are willing to rise up against them all, including your own. Otherwise suffer the slings and arrows of disrespect silently.

Harvey Fierstein is an actor and playwright.

Idaho

Scott Favor: It's when you start doing things for free, that you start to grow wings. Isn't that right, Mike.

Mike Waters: What?

Scott Favor: Wings, Michael. You grow wings, and become a fairy.

Tempting Young Fruit

Rule #17 : Do not make out at the bar.

While on the town last evening, a boy barely old enough to enter a bar, tricked me into making out with him. While I am no picture of class, I must admit that I hate when I see people suck on each other in public.

Minus 10 points for Q.

tricky angel faces

the things i do. i'm surprised that so many people take so long to figure out how mean i can really be. rule # 4: an angels face is tricky when it comes to me.

all day long all i have been is mean spirited and i am languishing in it similar to when scrooge mcduck dives through his money bin. swimming in hatred is a little cold, but you exit feeling refreshed and ready to start anew.

a perfect example is the plight of don imus. that man has hated everybody for i don't know how many years, and now suddenly a group of 'nappy headed ho's' are going to ruin his career? i doubt it. if there is one thing that we have all learned from howard stern's move to sirius, there is life after exile. he will rise from the ashes like a phoenix, instead of fire spewing bile and gloriousness across the satellite networks the way he should have been all along.

Bite your tongue faggot.

Did you know?

"Drunk Dialing is the hottest new trend in all the big gay circles, and you can't throw your drink at the club without hitting a bitch on her cellphone."

--FagTrends d. Bar Report

And as is typical, I am not in on the fad. With my obsessive need to be different, and because I am stuck in the Jurassic age of cellular technology, I drunk text. Oh but not my friends, just myself.

Ms.Manners tells me that when you're handed the keys to a blog, it is customary to introduce yourself. How polite.

To offer some insight into the workings of Q, I publish for the first time, notes from a drunk.

Jan 24 : Potato Zine
Jan 30 : Mr bigstuff
Feb 01 : I could be a mason. But I don't believe in god
Mar 08 : One minute
Mar 09 : Bite your tongue faggot
Mar 14 : The pussy song
Mar 15 : Jump
Mar 15 : Shave your face rebel
Mar 18 : Dear eagle denver. I want music to sex to.
not music to get my nails done to
Mar 19 : Pulling muscles from a shell
Mar 26 : Hakuna Stigmaa
Apr 04 : I'm so in love with myself
Apr 08 : I'm a stinky boy
Apr 09 : My hands smell like him

Bored.

--q

an open letter (apology in t minor)

dear xxxxxxxxxxx

i am sorry that you feel victimized. i am sorry that you feel abandoned. i am sorry you feel restrained. i am sorry that you surround yourself with death. i am sorry that your death follows you. i am sorry you run to fast. i am sorry your ears bleed at the hint of truth. i am sorry you smoked today. i am sorry you smoked yesterday. i am sorry i am sober. i am sorry you are not. i am sorry that you can't stay. i am sorry you know you left.

you left a long time ago.




there are things that i would like to say, but when i try to speak your voice runs over me, wheels under wheels through a golden spike and a steel hammer. i can't speak.




i am sorry i walked away. i am sorry i didn't support you.

and as i scream and i scream and i scream and i scream and i scream

the rules

you may see from time to time rules listed on here. well the official dhp handbook isn't out yet, but with some work it will be finished by the time the comet hits us in 2012 (see rule #313). still rounding up the posse, but it should be shaping up quite nicely soon.