Friday, March 17, 2006

The Queer on the Edge.

Oh shit, here's another bitch rave about being cornered as a poof'! What's my problem? Where's my pride? I guess I've got to emphasize that being fucked over as a gay is one of the seven through-lines of my text and what has driven me to daily contemplate suicide.

Reading about Condoliza Rice, how she overcame great obstacles of race and gender to get to the top, proving the great beauty of "democracy" today, I wonder if it would work for a homosexual, could he become president if it was known he sucked cocks in a cottage tea-room? There are not many public role models for Homos: few famous film stars, directors, politicians, whatever, dare come out, for their careers get ruined. I made the big mistake back in the 'ra ra' early days of Gay Lib when I had published a short story, "Welcome to the Men's" in an anthology "Edge City on Two Different Plans", wherein I described a life of cruising every beat possible from the age of twelve onward. When I later tried to have a film career, it dawned on me I was never going to get up on stage to receive an award on national television when next day the Daily Terror would blaze front page, "Movie Genius is Notorious Cocksucker".

It has always seemed so unfair that what was probably hardwired into me, and definitely solidified by society, should get me tortured, to suffer prejudice 24/7, and especially as I never really identified my soul purely with who I had sex with. Actually, I rarely think of my homo nature, I spend much of my time pondering world history, politics, science/technology, pop culture, social gossip, blah blah blah. Most of my friends are straight, and my sexuality is rarely an issue. I come from a working class family, am a libertarian, a neo-pagan, an artist, a palliative-care nurse, a gnostic-agnostic, a misanthropic humanist, an adventurer and die-hard individualist. What a pity therefore that I'm pinned by "Them" as a "Gay", and thus limited in my potential.

The Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardis Gras originated from a protest march in 1978 where the cops beat the shit out of us but nowadays has pigs as just another macho float with mostly heterosexual tourists cheering the parade on. ( In the late Naughties They even dropped Gay from the title, it's just the Sydney Mardi Gras and TV stars at the opening party make sure the camera crews know they are NOT gay  by stating so - so tell me gays aren't less than zero!). It looks like we're seen as colourful, amusing freaks by society but overnight the Right-wing conservatives could take-over and reneg on all the hard-won rights, send us off to concentration camps and Het society would live on without a bat of the eyelashes.

Stereotypes and prejudices still daily box me in, most "straight's" faces fall when they clap eyes on me, jobs and advancement are really hard to get. I'm angry and I want to break out of my confinements, to really be liberated and join productive humanity, what a queer desire! If I'd been born into privilege it wouldn't have mattered but to be poor, handicapped and a poofter, fuck it's hard to surf the cruelty and succeed at whatever, even my fellow poofs want to kill me. I've never belonged to any group, bent or straight, always on the edge, the outsider, outcast, outlaw.

The best I can say about this life as a stranger is that at least my art is edgy and that's what I aimed for. It can be seen from this rave that I'm a terribly fucked-up fag, probably full of self-hatred, encouraged by a heterosexual supremacist and often fascist world. I said it right from the beginning of my "2001 Restless Nights", I'm a hissing, spitting, scratching, howling punk poofy cat and I make no apologies.