I’m sitting here trying to come up with some moralistic queer talk, but I’m already torn. Maybe I should start with: “I hate you all, homophobic punks,” or maybe with, “All happy queers should come out and hold hands together and fly, fly like a flock of colorful, gay parrots to prove the whole the world that we exist!”
I’m not too sure we exist, though; after all – who are we? Me? You? Him? Yeah, Him. And still I find myself yawning at long and meaningful BGLTU meetings, scratching my ear, and looking around the room with avid despair. My eyes heavy with the lack of sleep, they’re still looking, looking, and thinking that I should go back to my books. I shouldn’t have even come here.
The topic of the day is religion and nobody seems to admit that God doesn’t necessarily love homosexuality – not gay people, I’ve been told, they’re still human, and cool, and he’s obliged to love them. But no, we should all get a queer church and a queer Bible, and maybe set a new queer colony in Mauritania. How about that: We could even raise their GDP per capita, since we like to buy flamboyant clothes and lots of shiny African jewelry. But would God ever approve?
That’s not the question. I think my (Bulgarian) God would approve of anything if we actually did it – if we weren’t afraid of putting down that mask of wishy-washy political activism and face the fact that we’re neither different or not. But we are nothing, then. We’re no-things! And nothing is the best thing to be in this place where everyone is trying to be something because somebody else is trying. And in this place, and in this country, we behave like we’re deranged, like we are always and forever bound to seek an “identity” and build a “community” where we are free. Aren’t we supposed to be already free? I mean, we’re in America; when you can’t find your place in the universe, you definitely ought to find it in America.
Too bad that we can’t find it (in the universe, too, but also, in America). Too bad we can’t stop discussing and bringing up “issues” and theories, feeding our brain with junk to prevent ourselves from being what we are. We keep ourselves unhappy.
And while we’re here, not even knowing and being what we are, and while we lay like blobs in our comfortable couches to watch a cartoon-like presidential debate; while we’re here being lost, other people are living and being happy, or they’re living and suffering and being killed. And even if we build a queer church in Mauritania (we should think of a “term” to substitute for queer though, because it’s too outrageous), so even if we build our stupid church that still won’t stop anyone of “them” (them = bad) from doing what they do. And another Matthew Shepard will get killed, and another Eric Plunkett will get killed, and many others will get killed too, and when we can’t face the ugly ghosts that kill them, and when we can’t even face ourselves, maybe we can still face the big TV screen (relief). And we can go to a long and boring BGLTU meeting with hope; with the hope of getting away from this place for just a moment, any day now, any day but not today, but it will happen and then, then the ghosts will disappear and, yes, everything will be fine.