Had to face that fact that Christmas is coming and this goose ain't fat in the wallet, so a few presents bought and cards sent out and that is that for this year. Now I'm out of excuses other than just plain laziness when it comes to writing.
I'm getting this damn thing done this weekend. I could dither and dather (is there such a word? Spell-check don't like it) for the rest of my life and I ain't got time for that. I've got a dozen different stories to write and who knows what more will come?
Something that sparked me on one story -- "Coby O' and the Pink Palace of Texas" -- was reading a post on a thread I follow from a 21 year old kid whose mother found some texts on his phone to another guy and realized he's gay. He posted some of the text messages she sent him...and they are chilling. That any parent could say things like that to their child -- not merely disowning him but calling him some of the foulest names possible and wishing horrible things on him. It was sickening. And proof of just how little things have changed.
I was luckier than that. I came out slowly and usually after members of my family had figured out I was gay, but I ran into some troubles, too. One branch confronted me and used the excuse they were afraid I had AIDS for it. I don't, but I don't think they believed me. This was close to 25 years ago, when lies and misinformation about the disease were rampant. There are still lies about it being spread by the right wing scum, but it's no longer the horror it was when there was little information to counter the hysteria.
I didn't see anyone from that side of the family until recently, but that stemmed more from me not bothering to keep in contact with them than anything else. I'd always seen myself as part of the family, with them, but that incident made me re-evaluate my relationship and see I'd been the one maintaining it. And when I stopped asking them for information on how things were going in their lives, they never volunteered the info...except when someone died, and then it was usually after the funeral so there was no chance I might show up out of respect.
But that wasn't really a rupture, not like what this kid went through. Mine was more of a "just letting go" and ending a pretense.
Anyway, "Coby O'..." goes through the same thing as that boy did -- being violently thrown out of his family's life and being told to stay away from his brothers. I'd thought I was going overboard on it when I wrote that section so put it aside. Guess I wasn't. And damn, doesn't that depress me?
Okay, I now has an ennui...which is short of has'ing a mood...or is it the other way around? I have to look into that.
I'm getting this damn thing done this weekend. I could dither and dather (is there such a word? Spell-check don't like it) for the rest of my life and I ain't got time for that. I've got a dozen different stories to write and who knows what more will come?
Something that sparked me on one story -- "Coby O' and the Pink Palace of Texas" -- was reading a post on a thread I follow from a 21 year old kid whose mother found some texts on his phone to another guy and realized he's gay. He posted some of the text messages she sent him...and they are chilling. That any parent could say things like that to their child -- not merely disowning him but calling him some of the foulest names possible and wishing horrible things on him. It was sickening. And proof of just how little things have changed.
I was luckier than that. I came out slowly and usually after members of my family had figured out I was gay, but I ran into some troubles, too. One branch confronted me and used the excuse they were afraid I had AIDS for it. I don't, but I don't think they believed me. This was close to 25 years ago, when lies and misinformation about the disease were rampant. There are still lies about it being spread by the right wing scum, but it's no longer the horror it was when there was little information to counter the hysteria.
I didn't see anyone from that side of the family until recently, but that stemmed more from me not bothering to keep in contact with them than anything else. I'd always seen myself as part of the family, with them, but that incident made me re-evaluate my relationship and see I'd been the one maintaining it. And when I stopped asking them for information on how things were going in their lives, they never volunteered the info...except when someone died, and then it was usually after the funeral so there was no chance I might show up out of respect.
But that wasn't really a rupture, not like what this kid went through. Mine was more of a "just letting go" and ending a pretense.
Anyway, "Coby O'..." goes through the same thing as that boy did -- being violently thrown out of his family's life and being told to stay away from his brothers. I'd thought I was going overboard on it when I wrote that section so put it aside. Guess I wasn't. And damn, doesn't that depress me?
Okay, I now has an ennui...which is short of has'ing a mood...or is it the other way around? I have to look into that.
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