Bi the bi...

I know I only blogged the other day but it was more of a walk through my personal history than anything else. Today I have something I feel is worth blogging about. M - a loyal follower of this blog - asked me the other about Bi-Pride. Does it exist? At first I did what I think the majority of gay people (and interestingly enough heterosexual people - from now on called Hay people in my blogs btw) did. I dismissed it as being mildly silly. Bi-Pride. I mean as if... those people are just confused queers who don't have the guts to deny the cunny or willy as the case might be. But then I got to thinking hang on a minute - that sounds awfully like a denial of a state of sexuality. Something I've been doing for years and have only now (aka last blog) finally accepted. And it wasn't a choice (aka last couple blogs) it was an acceptance of who I was. What's good for the goose is good for the gander or so they say (they = me). 

Well this goose was feeling a little troubled. Bisexuals (bays from now on) are in a limbotic world. (oh be prepared for new words to be developed and nurtured here, because I fucking can. Limbotic = a world in limbo but torn twixt two ideals that seem incongruent and yet are almost identical) They are neither hay or gay, neither here nor there. And then I got to thinking about partnerships. I can't even find one blind, desperate male unable of out running me to shag, a bay would need to find one of both sexes. Who don't mind sharing. And I thought I had it bad? So whilst responding to M I made mention of a new war. The hays had it, and lost it to the gays, who now have it but need to share it with the bays. But unlike the old war where it was the right for same sex, now we are faced with the right for destroying our last vestige of the sexual covenant. Gays and Hays alike ascribe to this practise when possible, and their relationships fail when they don't: Monogamy. 

I'm not implying that a bi-sexual would not be faithful, and I'm not pretending to understand how exactly bays would work in terms of relationships, but from what I can gather there is a requirement for a polygamous relationship (a faithful one). A bay man would want to sleep with women, and equally with other men. A bay woman would need to be filled with man, and woman equally. This, to my mind, implies that if a bay selects the one, there will always be an urge to indulge the other. After all I can only image it as liking chocolate and ice-cream. Eating just the one would create a craving of the other. So the only healthy solution would be to eat both (as some of us do hence the weight problem...). 

But this leaves the bay in search of other bays or very opened minded gays and hays. As a gay would I let my boyfriend have a girlfriend? Sadly I don't think. I'd constantly be thinking - what the fuck does he see in her? I don't understand why I'm not sufficient. As a hay husband could I let my wife go and sleep with another woman? (oddly enough most hay men desire this, so perhaps that is where we should aim our first revolution?) But the story gets more complicated. A hay and a gay can have a single partner, and get by and large marital rights. And one could arguably take a multi-partnered marriage to the courts and claim the cultural thing. But do I see SARS adding: Name of spouses to their already reduced form?

It looks pretty bleak for the bays I'll grant you. Or does it? Granted there are many battles still to be fought, but ultimately it was the gays who got electro-shock therapy in the past, the hay women who were imprisoned for bucking the system. Today's world is more a court battle than anything else, and I'd like to hope - in South Africa, where we have been legally forced to be accepting, that the future for bays is not as desperate as it at first seems. Perhaps the first phase is an influx of openly bay people? I knew of one, and I know of M (but only through this blog I think). If we had more openly bay people, bay people demanding rights and recognition perhaps we could move forward? But how does that resolve my personal problem of monogamy versus multi-partnered, multi-sexual existance? I need to understand it more, and have an open mind towards the idea. In short I need to deconstruct my dislike of women as a physical object. I don't mind women as a species, I just don't see them as being attractive sexually. So how do I now go and reprogram myself to see the virtues of sleeping with a woman so I can understand the urge that a bay has? I don't know. Exposure to bay thought. That's my only solution on this friday morning. And equally, all you hays out there, you need to start breaking down your society ingrained avoidance of sizing up a member of the same sex. 

So the first step we need to take - hays and gays - is to welcome bays into our worlds, circles, groups. I'd like to know more bays to be honest. For we only gain understanding and acceptance of a thing if we actively engage in exploring it through discussion and shared experiences. It's an exciting time in this country for all things, and a 'new' sexual freedom that must be embraced by all of us. So M - like I said I'd love to chat more, mail me (sclanders@gmail.com). 

So, and not being flippant: Have you hugged a bay today?

My friend the alien

Happy New Year. I think. Don't worry this isn't a blog about the virtues of life and New Years and so forth and so on. I'm not going to wax lyrical about my New Years resolutions. I don't have any in case you were wondering. This year I'm going to live my life to the best of my ability without silly goals. No this blog is more about what a new year means in a sense of life on planet Earth or more specifically how that life on Earth deals with the fact that we've spun around the sun once, and are going to do it again, and again, and again until one of us gives up...

So I have a friend. Lets call him Xartan. I will always keep Xartan in a special place in my heart and psyche he is my brother and at one time through-out time a soul bonded cosmic enemy. I met Xartan in standard six - on my first day in high school. I had been assigned to the C class - for under-achievers and general incompetents. I know why. I was a major under-achieving general incompetent. And an arrogant ass. I was incompetent because I had grown up in a protected world where the only sure thing was my mothers love, my love of fantasy, and that I was different from the rest because unlike others I still didn't like girls. Anyway I was feeling particularly sorry for myself because all my friends, and my secret crush were assigned rightfully to the A class. I was in my own eyes, those of my mother, and grandmother a failure. Sorry. Focus on the story. Right so there I was sitting three desks from the front, facing the door. My teacher was... lets call him Mr. Cunt. He really was. So Mr. Cunt is preparing to take register and in walks Xartan. He's laughing and chatting to some lowlife (who really was). 

I don't know what it was about Xartan. But I fell in love with him at once. Not in a sexually lusting kind of way. But I just knew - I knew that he was going to be my friend. It was all that I wanted. Other things happened that day which I don't recall, and some which I do which lead to a totally different friendship with another amazing human, but that's a blog for another time. As fate would have it (not that I believe in fate but it's a useful expression) Xartan and I became friends. We both had the same interests. How wonderful! Romans, fantasy, drawing, creating new worlds in our minds, English. We were a perfect match. Except it was a match made in the story books of old we so enjoyed reading. I was his perfect Villain to my perfect Hero. 

We challenged one another at every turn. Who could be more creative, write better works, do greater, more impressive things in the fantasy games we played. I would get frustrated by how long he took to get something perfectly right, and I suppose he was equally frustrated over how quickly I dashed things offs. Sometimes (with all modesty told to fuck off) I did great things with a mere thought. Most of the time it was pie in the sky with as much substance as a fart. However we came to become great friends. Always rivals, always at the opposite sides of the scale. He was Luke Skywalker to my Emperor Palpatine. He had his Han Solo, and I had my Vader. But it was always in the most boyish of friendships. 

Until I twisted a request he made to a friend of mine to suit my own ends (sadly a pattern I still use today to get what I want). Naturally it acted as a focal point of our animosity. Our friendship collapsed. Xartan moved away for a year but then came back to my world. We resolved our differences as two enemies can and built a new friendship. I'd say it was more honest and open. All was as it should be. We united against common enemies, moved into the A class as we both deserved to be in, and life was for all intents and purposes perfect. 

Xartan was not religious. Neither was I. But in our first year of tertiary - although in different parts of the country - I went into film making (continuing my love of fantasy) and he went into alternative therapies. He began to espouse the power of healing the mind, the body, and the soul. I was - laughing and skeptical. Rocks have no more power to heal us than needles stuck into dark orifices do. Skulls - crystal, Spielberg or otherwise - can no more tell me about my past than a modern calculator. But Xartan was convinced. Past lives became the fad. We were rivals in the past he said. We had some kind of unfinished business. Hence being brought together in this life. Yes celestial powers felt we needed to continue a chat from one lifetime in Egypt to another in Durban, and so had our ancestors move in such mystical ways so as to have his mother and father have sex in the same year as mine, and for ... you get my point. 

Anyway Xartan finally came to his senses. He didn't fit into the world because he was an alien. Placed here for punishment. That was why the human condition was such a mystery to him. I was about as supportive as a house of cards. But apart from the times when he needed to go and meditate (wank?) he was still the old Xartan ready to pick up a sword and come play in the worlds of make-believe with me. It is at this point dear reader that I've had one of those free-association epiphanies. I've just realized that whilst I was gently mocking him, I was as deluded as he was, both of us stuck in fantastical worlds avoiding the real one (why I wonder? what did we fear so much in reality that we needed to hide behind dragons? God now I'm bawling my eyes out. Thanks reader for making me write this. OK, give me a moment.) It is not the first time that I've jeered at his struggle to find himself. I'm sorry for being an arsehole Xartan, forgive me. [In truth this is why I like writing these blogs. As I pour out a stream of drivel sometimes I hit a little grain of truth]. Anyway so Xartan was looking for his mother ship, and I was trying to come to terms with my sexuality. It was to Xartan that I first confessed my homosexuality. I was in my bed, next to the window, and he was on the floor in my room on a silly foam mattress. He typically spent most weekends at my house during our first year of tertiary in this fashion. We'd been talking for hours and I needed to tell someone. He was there for me. He set the tone by which everyone else I have ever told about my sexuality has responded: He was supportive and kind. Thanks bro. 

Moving on. Xartan encouraged me to explore and develop. He helped me through my big crush revelation, and the rejection that came with it. He helped me to show others that side of myself. And in time he came to my rescue when my life was turning in odd directions. But after a while Xartan turned to Buddhism. He was no longer an alien, and rocks were now just bits of geology. As a Buddhist I feel his goal to seek enlightenment was to be achieved by screwing anything with breasts and legs that would open. Then he went to Scotland. I was hiding in the USA from my only boyfriend - of three weeks and one kiss. I feel I need to justify: the kiss was a totally mis-communication on my boyfriends part, and a total misinterpretation on mine. It was also the most wonderful sensation I've ever had. OK, back to sex-mad Xartan in Scotland. 

I was in the USA working on a documentary and it's near Christmas. I log on-line and he's there in a chat room. He's in some cybercafe (because it's cheaper than an hotel room and has hot coffee on tap). We chat. He'd spent three days in some hotel in some little Scottish backwater sleeping with a beautiful Australian girl. And that's it. He shagged her silly until his willy was nilly. Sorry, that was stupid. It was interesting to listen to his enthusiasm and excitement about this, his  most amazing sexual experience yet. Xartan returned home and became a Christian. If you're shocked can you imagine how we were?

It was a shock to us all. He forbade himself sex. Then he got more into the church, and as it enveloped him, he began to shrug off all that made Xartan, Xartan. Drawing, fantasy, Romans... it all became a distraction from his path with God, and was tossed aside. In a way I benefited by picking up some cool books that he was about to chuck. But the day we (his mother and I) found him tearing pages out of the Mormon bible because of it's blasphemy (damn his mother was mad) I knew Xartan was lost to us. His spaceship had left orbit with an MIA. His was the promise  of salvation from ones self, ones demons. Everything that you hated about yourself, all the petty evils you had ever committed could be absolved, all the dark thoughts wiped clear for ever... And for a while I became a slave to that dream.

I say a slave because in order for the salvation to work - you have to surrender completely to God (it actually says you need to die of yourself and be reborn as a son [assumedly a daughter as well but the Bible wasn't gender tolerant... I mean specific] of god). You needed to purge yourself of all the old evils that you sook (past tense of seek?) salvation from. That unfortunately included some of the good things as well. Forget throwing the baby out with the bathwater, this was throwing the whole fucking bathroom out and starting again. For a while I was in this world of sacrifice. Until I realized it wasn't sacrifice. Sacrifice implies a death of something. An end. It was a continual struggle. A continual daily sacrifice. And the sacrifices were mounting. That and part of what makes us Human - our individuality - was up for the chop. I began to see that everyone in the church was trying to become the same thing. Men dressed the same, spoke in the same soft tones, moved in the same soft ways (at one stage I thought I'd found the biggest gathering of closet queens on Earth). The women were ALL the same. Loyal, supportive, mildly creative in card making, and ever ready to help out. Look these are not bad things. But when everyone is the same there is no spark. No dynamic. I got bored. And I got tired of sacrificing virtually everything that defined who I was simply in order to become a worshiping zombie totally reliant on the directives of elders, God's inspirations, and the Word. The clinch came for me after nearly six months of mind-altering worship at Christ's feet.

Xartan had to break-up with a longtime girlfriend because she was not Christian enough. She was Christian but just not the right sort of Christian. At that point I realized that I'd never be the right sort. I wanted to be independent, I wanted to express my 'God-given' powers in my own way. And I couldn't. I began to drown. And then my company - Christian to the core - got me to make a documentary on how and why Christians are right and evolutionists are wrong. I read books from both sides of the battle, fervently biased towards the Christians. Evolutionists however won hands down. The fundamental argument of the Christian (or any religion for that matter) is: Because It [insert deity, tomb, scripture, scroll name here] says so.

I left Xartan and the mindless slaves. Xartan now runs his own church. WHAT THE FUCK IS THE POINT I hear you scream. Who cares? Some of you know Xartan, others don't. Why? Why am I telling you all this? It's my longest blog to date. Why? Well what it raises in my mind, and hopefully in yours a question - Xartan is not happy. He is desperately lonely, snakes his way down from his mountain holy ground into my den of evil to perform evil acts to my computer, or partake in his old habits of playing fantasy games [and having a good time whilst doing it!]. Then he retreats back to his prayers and sacrifices. So what is the new year got to do with it?

I want to ask you - this paradox we call existence - how is yours treating you? What kind of journey have you been on in the past decade? How has your world changed, and who has changed your world for you in the last 3564 days (stop it, the maths is wrong, fuck off)? And are you doing anything differently now? I'm NOT talking about smoking or drinking, I'm talking about life shifts. I'm talking about drawing in your friends and marveling at how they've either changed or stubbornly refused to. And asking perhaps: Is it time you changed? Or have you found yourself and have a plan for this year? I have personally (come on, I'm allowed my own time now, this is my fucking blog after all) changed. Not in how I treat other people, that's for next decade. But in how I treat myself. I'm gay and I'm going to deal with it. And I'm NEVER going to try to change that again. So how have I changed in the last ten years? I've made a singular decision. If all of this has one single point - I've finally made my mind up on one single solitary thing. It's not like I had a choice. I mean it's really like me admitting to having a leg or an arm, and deciding to say: I am a biped. But you get my point. So this year is the first full year for me to start living with that choice.

So dear reader what have you decided? What single choice will you make towards making your own life (and no one elses) a little bit happier? Will you sacrifice everything and live in a paradox of denial, repentance, and rebirth? Or will you take a step outside with me, and accept yourself as having the capacity to make a decision (for better or worse) using your own faculties and no one elses? Come and walk with me on the wild side. Or not, you choose...