Left to my own devices

"I could tell by the way you looked at him." A few weeks ago, Ashley & I saw a new foreign film, Touch , and it got me thinking about the past. The movie centers around an older man, Kristofer, who is making the journey from Iceland to the UK, right as the world is shutting down in March of 2020. He soldiers on, as he is on a major quest. He is on the cusp of being diagnosed with a serious illness and, as he and his medical professionals await confirmation, his doctor advises him to tie up any loose ends and take care of unfinished business. We follow Kristofer in the 'present day' of 2020, and then approximately 50 years in the past, as a college student studying in London. He is an aspirational youth, determined to buck the system that he has become so disillusioned with. He drops out of school. and takes a job working in a Japanese restaurant. There he falls in love with the owner's daughter, Miko, who is about his same age. Events happen, and they lose con...

The rom-com Bros debuted in theaters over the weekend. It was projected to open with $8.8 million at the North American box office. Instead, it stumbled with $4.8 million. The movie's co-star and co-writer, Billy Eichner, has made headlines after tweeting about the film's lackluster opening. He seems to blame homophobia for the poor showing for the movie about two gay men who attempt to navigate their attraction toward one another. Maybe he's right? Maybe not? Full disclosure: I haven't seen Bros yet. Not sure if I will. I didn't find the trailer to be all that amusing. And, for the record, I've gone to see a lot of movies featuring gay characters over the years. This one just didn't grab me. Maybe it didn't entice others to go, either? Gay or straight. I'm not the only who thinks there may have been other reasons why folks didn't go see it.

Recently I was part of a conversation about novels written by straight people that were about gay relationships. I kind of bristled at the idea. There's a well-reviewed book that I cited - Days Without End , by Sebastian Barry - about two men who fall in love during the American Civil War. Barry is straight. That's great - most people are. And, the writing of his novel came from a good place - he was moved by his son  coming out . Awesome. Based upon that, and the high praise the novel has received, I went to a local bookstore and purchased it. That was about five years ago. And it's sat on my shelf ever since.

I was recently watching a video about queer baiting in cinema , and it got me to thinking about movies I watched while growing up -- specifically, as a teenager -- that I felt contained gay subtext, but could've been interpreted as heterosexual (and often were) by others. The video touches upon this, noting that it happened frequently in post-code Hollywood, and is known as queer coding. One such movie that stands out in memory is 1955's Rebel Without a Cause .

"You can't be in love with someone if they don't love you back." My friend Jake said those words to me one night in the late '90s. I was at his house and we were, for whatever reason, waxing poetic about love and relationships. Actually, I do know the reason. I was besotted with a guy at the time, and mentioned, in brief passing, that I was in love with him. Jake caught the turn of phrase and felt the need to correct it. He knew the person in question, and knew that the feelings I held were not reciprocated. Jake didn't explain his comment too deeply (he wasn't really one for such conversations in the first place), but I'll always remember his remark because it stopped me in my tracks. For a time, I'd bristle at the memory of those words but, as the years have gone on, I've come to realize he may have been right. There is, after all, a difference between loving someone, and being in love with them. And love, in and of itself, has many meanings.

There's a meme folks have been sharing on social media recently and, frankly, it rankles me on a particular level. It's one of those pro-church messages that couches itself in some sort of welcoming religious love, however, built within it is an insult. And I probably don't have to tell you wherein the insult lies. Here, then, is the wording of the meme, verbatim: "If you are having sex before are married, go to church anyways! If you are a drug addict trying to beat addiction, go to church anyways! If you are confused about whether you are straight or gay, go to church anyways! If you have an addiction to anything, go to church anyways! Churches are hospitals for the broken. Even people saved aren't perfect. It doesn't make you a hypocrite to go to church and do bad things, it makes you a hypocrite when you do them and claim that you aren't. Do you know how to break addition?!? By having people pray for you and pray with you!!! No need to be asham...

We had some good times together, he and I. It was the nineties, when the world was young(er). I had come out of the closet only a couple of years previously, and had started going to the local gay bar/dance club about a-year-and-a-half after that. I was gradually becoming more comfortable in my own skin. Dad, and my beloved maternal grandmother, Gummy, were yet to become sick and die from cancer. I was going to the local community college. Life was, if not great, good.

The sexuality of one's friends isn't something I think about often. Well, why would you? The interests and commonalities we share with our platonic companions is enough to sate any curiosity we may have about them. We share our lives with them, talk about our days, perhaps recall moments that were shared together, and maybe discuss our plans for the future. The gender of their attraction isn't necessarily of paramount importance.

He sat on the floor of my bedroom, his back supported by the side of the bed. He'd scrunched his face up into concentration as he reviewed the issue I was having with my television and its remote control (they didn't seem to be working). This was Kyle, the first person I'd felt heightened emotions for, and he was sitting there in my room attempting to help. I'd mentioned the issue to Kyle earlier in the day, during our Junior year high school English class, mostly as an aside per a throwaway discussion as to what was going on in our respective lives. He volunteered to come over that evening and see if he could help. It was a nice gesture. It would also score some nice points with my mom, who'd already met him on a few previous occasions when he'd come over to have lunch with us during the school day.

There was once a friend who told me he loved me. He said it very matter-of-fact, though there was some unease within his person about it. We sat there, on the bleachers at high school, blowing-off P.E. class one slightly overcast day, and we were talking, just shooting the breeze. There was a lot of subtext to our conversation, though I wasn't really analyzing it at the time. I was expending a lot of energy talking bitterly about being friendless, and how I didn't really fit in anywhere. There was a nasty undercurrent to my words that I wasn't aware of.

A little over twenty years ago, I was talking on the phone with a friend. He is African-American, and gay. We were discussing male celebrities we found attractive, and he asked me about a particular one, who happened to be black. I don't remember who it was, but do remember saying that he wasn't my type. My friend offered a gasping protestation, to which I responded that I simply wasn't attracted to black men. This drew a remark of, "That's racist," from my friend. The aforementioned conversation has always stuck with me, and returned to mind recently while reading an article about racism within the online gay dating community (and, no doubt, within the offline gay community, as well). Basically, if you're not Caucasian, then you'll likely face some barriers to acceptance. And, sometimes, the automatic rejection based on race can be cruel. One could argue that someone who would cruelly dismiss another because of their ethnicity isn't wor...

The U.S. Supreme Court has ruled in favor of a Colorado baker who refused to make a cake for a gay couple for their wedding. Though the ruling is fairly limited , our society -- being what it is -- will not pay attention to the nuance, and therefore sides will be drawn, celebrations and angry reactions alike will be had, and our culture war will continue to be stoked. I think I understand the majority ruling, but I do not agree with it. Back in December, former blogger Andrew Sullivan (himself a longtime gay rights activist, though also an admitted conservative) wrote a piece wherein he thought that the Colorado gay couple had gone too far in suing the baker, and that they (and by extension LGBT people) should just "live and let live." In other words, it was a 'pick your battles' argument. I thought about this particular train of thought for quite awhile, but, in the end, decided it is wrong.

A recent ruling by a judge  allows for bar owners (among others, I'd guess) to remove Trump supporters from their establishment because there is not, apparently, protection under the law for political discrimination. Whatever side of the political aisle you fall on, that surely has to be a somewhat eye-opening factoid. More so than the ruling, itself, I've been intrigued by the online chatter about why certain folks have been okay with the decision. Discussions I have read seem to center themselves around why it is okay to allow political exclusion, but not okay to ban someone from someplace because of their ethnicity, or sexuality. The latter two factors are, many argue, not a choice, while someone's politics are most certainly chosen. The aspect of choice, it would seem, is what dictates punishment or praise. It is also, I would argue, not a great way of determining what we accept, or don't accept, about people.

"Step out from the mask you stand behind Fearful lost and blind Time to take the time The pressure’s on you Hide away, hide away No tomorrow, just today" - Brilliant , Ultravox Today was National Coming Out Day , so of course it gives some pause for reflection on my own coming out story. It was in April 1993, my junior year of high school (go Chargers!). In the six years of writing this blog, I have alluded to how I came out, but never really delved into the intricacies of how it came about. What better day to do so than today? My first (small) indications of homosexuality manifested in grade school. While in first grade, I thought a fifth grader looked cute. In fifth grade, I would stare, longingly, at a boy in class, until he caught me looking at him. There were some infatuations with boys in middle school, and a first sexual experience during freshman year of high school. Everything up to that point had been, for the most part, based in the phy...

Dance clubs are a funny thing. They contain within their walls a life force and vibrancy sometimes unmatched anywhere else. When dusk settles and the lights come on, people will flood the dance floors to gyrate to music with hypnotic beats and songs about love, lust and fun at the disco. At gay bars, this sort of scenario usually increases ten-fold. It isn't for everyone, but for many it is a respite from the harsh realities of the real word. It is a place that isn't just a structure, but a sanctuary where folks -- minorities in their own communities -- can take shelter and unwind with abandon, at least for a few nighttime hours. As someone who benefited greatly from such an aforementioned gay dance club, you can imagine my dismay at  news of the closing of Chester Street Bar. In business for over three decades, gay-owned and operated, there was a time when C-Street (as it was known by most) was the only haven for those in the LGBT community, near and far, to enjoy the...

I've sometimes wondered how I would have functioned as a gay man born, not in the latter-half of the 20th century, but during a time when seeking the partner of one's choice was simply not allowed. At least, not legally. How would I have behaved? Would the repression of my sexuality have proven to be too much? Or would I have settled down with a woman, perhaps had children, and soldiered on? The closing film of this year's Roger Ebert Film Festival , the 2004 musical biopic De-Lovely , focused on the life of lyricist and composer Cole Porter, and provided another opportunity to ponder the aforementioned thoughts. Though fraught with a narrative structure that was almost clunky enough to derail the overall experience, the movie succeeds in spite of its flaws, and was an enjoyable, moving motion picture. There was a sophistication to the performances of Kevin Kline (as Porter) and Ashley Judd (as his wife, Linda Lee). Somewhat familiar with Cole Porter, though unf...

The news -- "breaking news" in some quarters -- that pop singer Barry Manilow is gay got me thinking about the whole notion of a public image. We all have one, from the mega-famous to the demure wallflowers. We all present what we want to the world, and hide the rest. There are those who decry such measures, preferring, I suppose, to lay bare their souls for all and sundry. There's something to be said for raw honesty, though perhaps in small doses. Something to consider is the different spheres within which we operate. No doubt Barry Manilow has been out to friends and, perhaps, family for a long time. The recent revelation is most likely a public one. There's no dishonesty there, just a lack of information. That is, of course, Manilow's choice. I do find it somewhat sad and slightly odd that he'd been afraid to come out due to anticipated negative reactions from fans. His sexuality has been one of the worst kept secrets around.

My late, maternal grandmother, Gummy, whom I loved very deeply and still miss to this day, was a bit of a conservative. On the one hand, that isn't so odd, since she grew up and lived most of her life in rural Illinois, during a time (she was born in 1928) that was already more traditionalist than the world we live in today. She also believed in life after death, reincarnation and alien visitations, so conversations with her ran the gamut, and that's one of the things I liked about her.   I mention Gummy because film aficionado and TCM host Robert Osborne passed away yesterday, aged 84. That may seem like a non sequitur, but the one made me think of the other because the two came from the same generation, and it has come to (public) light that Osborne was gay, and I remember how my grandmother treated the subject of homosexuality on occasion.

Once, several years ago, I was talking with a fellow gay man (who happens to be African-American), and remarked that I'm not really attracted to black men. "That's racist," he said, sounding affronted. Back then, perceiving racism as something of a choice, I retorted: "How can it be racist? I did not choose to not like black men, just like you didn't choose to be gay." This seemed to dissuade my friend from any further accusatory remarks. Over the years I've thought back to that occasion, and wondered if my friend might have been on to something? Of course it depends upon one's definition of racism (an oft-overused word these days), and the social/cultural dynamics one has been surrounded by in life. It's true that racist homosexuals do exist (once, when a gay guy found out I was biracial, he promptly told me that I was the product of race traitors, and should be hung from a tree). Still, are our sexual preferences a product of upb...

I was in high school English class, and we were focusing on the prose & poetry of African-American authors. I was somewhat nonplussed. Yes, there was a mild appreciation of how my teachers were putting this into the curriculum, something that isn't done everywhere. It was nice to have a balance of John Steinbeck one week, followed by Lorraine Hansberry the next. A nice parade of black voices were to follow: Maya Angelou, Alice Walker, Langston Hughes and Mark Mathabane, to name a few. One day (I forget whether it was because we were about to focus on him, or if I simply flipped ahead a few pages in our reading), I happened upon a brief bio of James Baldwin. Of this, I took notice. It is said that gay men can tell if another person is gay, just by appearance. The curious notion of "gaydar" is one founded, like most things, in some sliver of truth. I saw the picture of Baldwin, the slim build, the smile, the twinkling eyes and thought, 'This man is gay.'...