Prop 8, Bel Ami, And Ke$ha Should Probably Watch Her Back

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1. There’s a lot of chatter about a verdict in the Prop 8 trial — namely, that it’s coming very soon. As in, maybe today. That could be speculation, but don’t be surprised. Assuming things go as I think they’ll go, and as many others think they’ll go, that would be a nice way to start the weekend.

2. Those Ke$ha dancing soldiers? (The Israeli ones?) They’ve been ordered to make an anti-dancing video. Frankly, I’d prefer they make an anti-Ke$ha video or at least put the Mossad on her skank ass, but then, I haven’t had quite enough coffee this morning.

3. Like most of my gay brethren, I enjoy porn now and then (translation: daily). But Bel Ami films have never been my thing, mostly because younger guys don’t do much (translation: anything) for me. But Matthew Rettenmund’s interview with George Duroy, the company’s founder is…interesting. I like stories about people who operate on the edges, and he’s done a good bit of that. However, Duroy seems completely clueless about condom use, and his comments in support of bareback films are irresponsible and outrageous. And he still wonders why the mainstream gay media won’t give him editorial coverage?

4. It’s funny, the way the world keeps shrinking. For months, I’ve seen the pic below making the rounds on Tumblr. Recently I learned that it was created (in part) by a friend from a former life (by which I mean 15 years ago), Adrain Chesser, who now lives in Seattle and makes photographic loveliness with the equally talented, equally lovely Steven Miller. Small, small, small.

*Beaster Bunny and Bear* by Adrain Chesser and Steven Miller

Not To Be All Schadenfreude-y, But…

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I would like to hang a very large version of this above my bed for the next 50 years:

Lindsay Lohan: What? What did that bitch say?

Lawyerlady: That “bitch” is your judge, and she just sent you to jail for 90 days and to rehab for 90 days beyond that. All because you violated your probation for two — yes, two — DUIs. That’s what that the “bitch” said.

LiLo: But, okay, you know, like, what does that mean?

Lawyerlady: That means you’re going to jail.

LiLo: Ha! I can’t go to jail, dummy. It’s summer! They don’t have jail in summer! Who hired you?

Lawyerlady: They do have jail in summer.

LiLo: Since when?

Lawyerlady: Since always. It’s jail.

LiLo: Look, I don’t know where you graduated from, Lawyerlady, but I was in Mean Girls and the very popular remake of Freaky Friday, so I know a lot, okay…. [continued here]

[pic via SocialiteLife]

Like The Canterbury Tales, But With A Party Of One Gay Dude

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Several weeks ago, my friend Ben set off on an amazing journey: he hiked the Camino de Santiago, “a 500 mile pilgrimage across Northern Spain to the city of Santiago de Compostela and the Cathedral of St. James, where bones of the Apostle James are said to be located.”

Of course, I was raised a Southern Baptist, so none of that makes any sense to me. Europe? Saints? The only pilgrimages my family went on involved wandering through fusty mansions in Natchez. Which, for antiques aficionados, is pretty much the same as a “real” pilgrimage I guess, but for grade-schoolers, not so much.

As a professional writer, Ben kept a great diary of the whole experience — and at 14 entries, it’s an easy read. As each new post went up, I found myself wondering, “What could possibly motivate me to do something like that?”

Certainly not religion. Not organized religion, anyway. In my experience, religion is all about stress and division. Even if I weren’t gay, I think that’d still be the case: Are you a member of this church or that? This denomination or that? Have you committed sins today? Have you repented? Are you saved or not? Either/or, good guys, bad guys, clean, dirty, binaries, binaries, ugh, ugh, ugh.

There are groups bent on trying to bridge the gap between gays like me and organized religion — groups like the Marin Foundation, a Christian group that stood along the barricades at Chicago Pride and “apologized” for their fellow Christians’ homophobia.  The story got a lot of good press, but as you can see from the Foundation’s website and from interviews with its founder, Andrew Marin, it’s not entirely clear what they stand for. They say they want to rebuild the relationship between gays and Christians, but they never affirm that homosexuality is normal and acceptable. As far as I can tell, they’re just a kinder, gentler version of Exodus International. And so I say, with a tip of my hat, fuck ’em.

Frankly, I’m not even sure that I’m a “spiritual” guy, like I used to tell people. Sure, I enjoy a good dose of yoga and meditation once or twice a week, but the euphoria that goes with it is more physical than anything: the “wow” of a really amazing stretch. There are a few lingering vestiges of my religious upbringing — superstitions, really — but I’m doing my best to shrug them off.

So: no religion, little/no spirituality. I don’t know what, if anything, would make me want to skip town for a couple of months and trek along a mountain trail. Well, except for the fact that it sounds like a great vacation. Ben’s thinking on the matter isn’t that different from mine, except he’s a lot more thoughtful:

I’m doing this for a variety of reasons: I’m turning 40 on June 6 and want to celebrate by doing something very out-of-the-box for me. I’m conflicted about the religious aspect; I do want to ponder my spiritual growth and relationship to god (small “g” or large “G”) outside of a Church hierarchy that has rejected me. And to be honest, I’ve been ground down by 18 years of working as a freelance writer in this impossible city. I’ve lost some essential spark. I hope to find it again as I trudge over hill and dale across Northern Spain.

Anyway, give it a read. It’s short and he’s smart, and if nothing else, it makes an excellent travelogue.

On Steven And The High Cost Of Freedom

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Nearly two years ago, a friend of mine was arrested. (I’ll call him Steven.) He was accused of breaking into a house, raping the man who lived there, and knowingly exposing the guy to HIV.

Since the fall of 2008, Steven has been held in Jefferson Parish, which is physically adjacent to Orleans Parish, but culturally, they’re miles apart. Yes, the jail system in Orleans Parish is notoriously bad — deadly, corrupt, the works. But it’s also accustomed to handling large numbers of gay detainees as well as those who are HIV-positive. Jefferson Parish jails aren’t so tolerant. As a result, Steven has often been denied access to his medications, not to mention other indignities.

Steven has maintained his innocence all along, and I’m inclined to believe him. For one, Steven’s a small guy — too small to overpower most other men. (There’s no mention of a weapon being involved, FYI.) For two, neither Steven nor his lawyer have been given access to the evidence against him. And on top of everything else, there’s the shadiness of the whole Jefferson Parish system, which doesn’t win them any votes in my jury of one.

Steven’s bail has been set ridiculously high for someone with no previous convictions, whose family all live in the New Orleans area, who’s well-behaved, and who seems to post a minimal flight risk. Ordinarily, my friends and I would put together some sort of fundraiser — just as we’ve done for other people in need — but it would take dozens to generate enough cash. And so, he’s waited.

Unfortunately, Steven’s case has been repeatedly delayed, and that’s taken an effect on him, physically and emotionally. Now, he’s now doing the unthinkable: he’s taking a plea deal. He’d rather put up with the hassles of being labeled a sex offender than spend more time in jail — and possibly be convicted on very flimsy evidence. (People have been found guilty of worse based on less.)

I don’t have access to all the details, of course. I haven’t even been able to visit Steven in jail. We’ve corresponded by post, and I’ve sent him books as often as possible — something to get his mind off of his predicament for a while. After reading his recent letters though, I’m not sure it’s done much good:

June 20, 2010

Those in here say “Take it and run, go home, get away from this place, it’s killing you.” Some of those out there say “Are you willing to deal with the ramifications? Can you live with this?” My question to you is “Could you live in here for two years…being treated like the scum of the earth? With a low stress threshold and a compromised immune system?”

My answer to everyone is: “Yes I can live with this.” As long as the accuser leaves me alone and leaves me to what’s left of my life, I can get by. I’ll live like a pauper with the bare minimums in life. After my unjust ordeal — trust me — I can sweat the simple stuff.

I’m not scared of death; I’d just prefer that it be by my own hand than someone else’s.

I just want this accuser to leave me alone. Rest assured he’ll NEVER hear from me; still don’t know where the man lives. Don’t care to know, either….

My neighbors who knew me before this ordeal will know that the fliers can’t be true. If they have any experience (or have any family members with the experience of the injustice system) then they should know the limitations of choices I was left with….

There’s one more fear I have. After the fliers are sent — and I may be overreacting because just down my street is…the equivalent of a “crack alley & a red light district” — but my house is only six houses down from a school. There may be gawkers. There may be closed-minded conservatives who want to burn down my house and put a bullet between my eyes.

To those of you agonizing over the daily trivial activities of: what outfit to wear, what to have for lunch, which cell phone to upgrade with — you’ve got it made brothers and sisters. Thank your god that you don’t have to make my choices.

I’m not trying to be a total downer on what for many people is a well-earned day off. But given that we just celebrated Independence Day, it seemed appropriate.