While I haven’t posted a new entry to TealArt in far, far too long I haven’t completely forgotten about the site. I’ve been doing some backend work here and there, mostly during writing breaks on Another Round (I’m at the 15,000 word mark currently). So, as a result, the side bar is a little cleaner. I fixed a few problems with the CMS (which will explain the title in a bit), and I’ve begun working on an exciting project that I think you’ll all like when I get it done, but I’m not quite ready to talk about now. Let the suspense build.

We’ve also added another TealArt contributor. Paula Forbes is no stranger to my hair brained website ploys. I’ve worked with her on some very frivolous projects as well (oh, but boy, they were so fun), and her work is just great, so I hope you’ll enjoy her stuff. Peter McCabe also promises to start writing again, and I’m really looking forward to that as well. And, you still have Chris and me to boot.

Just in case any of you are interested in what’s happening over at CollectiveArts, I’m pleased to say that we’re getting really close to reopening the doors over there. Really close. So stay tuned, and if you’re interested helping out with that drop me an email. CollectiveArts is open to just about anyone who wants to join, within certain bounds (and subject to review, of course).

Now that we have that out of the way, I’d like to get back to the ‘coding on the battlefield,’ if that’s alright with you.

I’m glad it is.

I’ve noticed that when ever I’m faced with a problem that involves coding, recently that’s been PHP and HTML code almost exclusively, and I can’t seem to get it to work, I start cutting things out. Rather than try and fix daunting problems with the formation of the code, I cut offending portions out. It’s a philosophy that simpler is probably better than complexity, and that if I don’t absolutely need something, that I can probably do with out it. So this leaves me feeling like a surgeon on a battlefield, doing twenty or more amputations in an hour. Though I suppose having a log of everything your CMS does referenced by file name, time, and line of code isn’t quite the same as having an arm or a leg, but there may be similarities.

Well, anyway. I’m back here, and it’s good to be home.

Editor’s Note: This is a work of fiction, inspired by reality, such as it is. Pronouns are intentionally left vague, as most characters are composites. If you understand what’s going on, congratulations; please respect the wishes of everyone involved and speak about this with no one. Its safer that way, it’s happier. If I can keep my mouth shut for the better part of valor, then you can to. Chris as referred to in the last scene is of course Chris Knittel, for those of you who are curious. Some of the back story can be found here. For all of my family that reads the site, it’ll all become clear in the next week or so, wait till then and know that I’m not ready to talk about it quite yet. For the people from school, keep your mouths shut (and that’s serious folks. Please?) It’s really a matter of safety and of being comfortable. Respect that, both in this situation, and just in general. Thanks. Enjoy!

“I’m so full of things to say my mind is talking nonstop and has been for a while and I can’t get it to top I can’t get it to slow down, and you know on one hand I don’t want it to slow down to stop because this is an amazing feeling an amazing buzz and why should it stop? It doesn’t have to, but I would like to regain some semblance of coherence, some semblance of internal sanity.” I said breathing only occasionally.

“You should talk to Hawthorne about your syntax,” She quipped. I sneered. “But seriously. All things end sometime, but I’m sure you’ve thought about that,” she said rolling her eyes.

“Hey, I can’t help it; but yes, I’ve thought about it a little, and I think that it’s worth ignoring that for a little while, to let what happen will and just try. I’m allowed, am I not?” I asked. I was so excited that it hurt and that was after hours of distance and time for reflection. My mind was still reeling and if I didn’t pay attention to it I’d probably lose my self to an incoherent manic attack,

“So tell! Tell! What happened? Was it perfect?” She asked.

“I can’t, and perhaps that’s part of the problem. And yes, yes, yes it was; even moreso than I might have imagined. I have all this joy and excitement and but its ok, I mean it’s not a fun thing and I can completely respect things from his point of view. It’s so familiar, like I was there a couple of months ago and now… now it’s different for me, but I still know, all too well, what that fears like. So I can completely respect where he’s coming from,” my words were bordering on incoherent, but that was ok, she’d understand, and it was probably the best reflection of how I was feeling.

“Oh that’s awesome.”

“Yes. It’s unreal, it’s completely uncharted territory. A brave new world. And it feels good. I feel good.” What more could I say, what more was there to say?

Perhaps that was a question better left unasked, I thought as I was bombarded with a thousand little manic thoughts that wanted to be spoken but that I knew I mustn’t speak.

I whimpered joyfully in protest, but restrained myself. Thinking of nothing else todo I unfolded my arms and hugged her. She understood.

“I don’t know, I feel a lot better about him now,” She said idly as I stood there.

I bit my tongue softly in my cheek and nodded. I couldn’t— or wouldn’t—say anything, despite really wanting or needing to say a lot of somethings. “Yeah,” I mumbled, not releasing my tongue.

“He seems to be really cool, underneath all of that. I spent some time with him after we closed up that project and the personality really started to show.”

I moved my eyebrows up in a surprised expression and waited for more information. I hoped I was convincing.

“I don’t know,” she said. It strikes me as ironic that she, and I to a lesser extent, said ‘I don’t know’ before any thought that we obviously did know but were hesitant to vocalize. “Before I was just kind of afraid and thought that he was weird, but now I really find I have a lot of respect for him, and I’m realizing that all of the assumptions that I had made about him were wrong. And that’s a good thing,” She said as she reached around and messed with her hair. It was interesting to see how it all fell back into place and still looked wonderful. I was almost jealous.

“And who knows, maybe he’ll manage to come out some day,” she added.

I nearly chocked on my tongue. I wanted to twitch or wink or give some hint as to what had happened over the past couple of days, but managed to restrain it. “Yeah, who knows,” I said when I had regained my internal composure. We walked off towards class talking about something else, something completely unrelated, but I wasn’t there, not in mind anyway.

“What happened? What happened?” She asked instantly as she sculpted a fine detail into the wet clay that she held tentatively in her hands. “It’s as if you got some sort of a buddy,” she added without really meaning it.

“Well, yeah, kind of,” I said very softly.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she said, once she saw the look on my face and knew that I wasn’t just playing around. “Someone from here, or not?!?” she asked excitedly pointing the ground.

I nodded and put my finger up to my pursed lips and tried to inspire her to be a little quieter. I felt like the entire room was looking at us and listening intently to what we were saying, though I knew they all could probably care less.

“So is it like, him, the guy who, everyone know, and everyone like thinks and dude and oh my god,” she said softly as she bent over the table, as if that would make her voice softer.

“Yeah,” I said.

She grinned. “That’s so awesome,” she said, and I think she meant it. I was happy. I grinned and nodded, but didn’t make any noise. I didn’t dare. “I’m so happy now!”

“You know, I think a lot of people have had a lot of respect for you since you’ve come out,” She offered after a while. I knew it was connected somehow.

“As if it was a surprise to anyone. You all knew,” I said. I still haven’t completely decided how I felt about the glass closet. In some cases it made coming out easier, and in others it was just frustrating.

“Yeah, but still, its cooler when you’re actually out, instead of just having to assume and worry that you haven’t figured it out and would do something stupid to try and disabuse us of the notion. You know where I’m going?”

“Yep, and you’re right I hope.” I agreed.

“Why did it have to take me so long to figure it out?” I asked silently, looking up hoping that some goddess would have an answer for me.

I think I got an answer later; someone asked “if you didn’t have to come out, if everyone knew you were gay from the starting line and was completely cool with it, would you like that?”

My immediate reaction was to say “oh god yes!” but then I thought about it and realized while I would probably really like homophobia to end, I think that figuring out sexuality and what it means to me is a privilege that I wouldn’t dare give up. Everything in life will teach you a lesson and help you grow, if you let it; and through coming out I’ve been able to gain an insight into myself that I wouldn’t dare give up.

“Hey, Andy, err, Chris,” I said as I started to stand up and wave to him. I still couldn’t get his name right on the fly, after four years of thinking of him as ‘Andy’ the fact that his real name was Chris hadn’t really set in. It made things easier, I knew too many people named Chris and this distinction made it a little bit easier; even better he responded to Andy just as well as he responded to Chris, maybe even a little better.

The café was bustling and I had managed to secure a small table in the corner for our chat. When he arrived I shook his hand, like I’d done a thousand times and we took our seats.

“It’s good to see you,” it’s been a while. He was right; we’d been really busy for far too long; but we’ve been coming to this little table in the corner every few days for years. Years. And we talk, about projects we’re working on, the torments of education and life, and lots of other little nothings. He’s the only other male I’ve ever really connected with, well maybe until now, and I’m not sure how my life would be with out him.

He has short hair that would probably look really cool if he gelled it, but perhaps that’s what drew me to him: he had the potential to be a really cool popular kind of person, but he startled the fence and still dared to be buddies with someone like me. In retrospect I think he’d probably laugh at me and claim to out geek me in the geek contest, but that was part of the game I suppose.

“Yeah, so what’s up with you?” I asked, taking a sip of tea.

“Nothing much, the usual. Their pulling all of the usual tricks and it’s frustrating, but such is life,” he reported. I nodded, there would be more eventually, ‘nothing much’ usually meant so much more; if it meant anything else then we would never talking about anything at all. “You?”

“I don’t know, I’m still fairly manic feeling, I’m so excited, there’s so much that I want to yell at the top of my lungs so that everyone can hear, but I can’t,” I said trying not to fidget with the packets of sugar sitting on the table.

“So I take it you two aren’t going to be out?”

I ignored the comment, in part because it had an obvious, but also because I didn’t want to explore the question. People would surely notice, I mean how could they not? But then it wasn’t my choice to make, and given the circumstance, and given that it was really his choice, I was ok with this. I chuckled, when I listed everything out in my mind, it all seemed like a big mistake waiting to happen, but then I thought of the look in his eyes and the feelings I got from his words, and it seemed like after coming out, that I was completely at peace about this one. It never stopped to amaze me.

“I’m learning a lot about the closet now. Because I’ve been through my own closet once, and now I’m kind of half in somebody else’s both vicariously and in a very real way, I feel like I know a lot more about it now. And I’m really comfortable. It scares me even, but just a little,” I said.

“Never quite saw it that way,” he commented, looking on and waiting for what he knew was coming. It was interesting, despite the fact that he’s two years older and probably smarter than me, I constantly feel like I’m showing him the world, and it’s wonderful.

“Yeah.” I drifted off for a while and tried to form something coherent, or at least something close. “I think the problem isn’t that I have a problem letting him stay in the closet. I mean I think people disserve to stay in the closet until they have everything sorted out, and defiantly through high school. There are limits to that, obviously, but we’re no where near a limit right now. It seems that my problem is that there’s no way I can be excited, no way I can tell my friends, no way I can express any of this.”

“The curse of the extrovert,” he commented.

“Totally.” He knew me too well, but then we’d been over that already.

There were three words scribbled on the title page of my English paper, and after several long moments of collaborative deciphering I and several other members of my class were able to make out the following: “Too Plot Centric.”

Too Plot Centric.

Now what exactly does that mean? I was clueless, and given that I had a few rather imposing projects to work on, and that the revision of this paper wouldn’t really be due for several months, I didn’t invest any additional emotional energy into it until a little while ago when the words “Too Plot Centric” popped into my head, and I thought “now what in god’s name does he mean by that?

Then I connected the dots, and realized what exactly he meant by “Too Plot Centric.” Only by looking at this from his perspective was I able to fully understand what he was looking for, and the more I consider it, the more driven I am to completely deny him the pleasure of receiving it, because he’s looking for an analytical method that I don’t exactly think should be applied to any of the humanities, epically literature.

For those of you unfamiliar with the school of literary thought known as New Criticism, it is a product of the modern paradigm that promotes examination of literature in terms of the techniques and devices used to deliver the point. It aims to create a objective look at literature by removing all, or as much context as possible from the analysis, and focusing analysis on small selection and more minute details of a text.

This is the school of criticism that the Collage Board features for the AP Literature and AP Literature/Composition tests, and it’s also the school of criticism which has given us academically viable papers that propose such outlandish theories which seem to have little barring on the piece itself.

My complaint is that looking at a piece with an eye towards new criticism, robs the context and the soul of the literature, which may be convent for a text book, but isn’t healthy for exposing people to literature. You can’t even hope to examine literature without looking at the authors contextual perspective, for instance you can’t look at Oscar Wilde’s work without really considering his homosexuality and how that reacted with the culture of his day, and you can’t read anything by Jean Anouilh without really considering how existentialism and the experience of living during the Nazi occupation of France affected his themes and messages (which I think makes his retelling of Antigone all the more interesting and ironic.) I think if you take this out, you lose something fundamental about the work. Additionally, I tend to be of the school that says that a writer’s write so they their works can be considered as written, for this reason I’m wary of literature texts full of no complete works and lots of excerpts, as well as literary schools that pay attention to details at the expense of the big picture.

Too Plot Centric.

At least where I’m standing, people write fiction to make a point about humanity, or something the world, and they create (hopefully) compelling characters and situations that convey this message. Unfortunately characters and situations don’t exists well in a vacuum and you need something, some element that binds everything together and gives the story meaning and purpose, an element that puts the characters and situations in terms that the reader can understand.

Something like, oh I don’t know, plot?

So then pray tell, how can an essay examining literature be too plot centric?

The problem with the modern paradigm is that it tries to isolates things, and idealizes an objective point of view that doesn’t really go very far in the underlying effort of academic studies which should be to create a better understanding of ourselves and the world around us.

Too plot centric?

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“So you said you’re single,” I asked, though I did my best to made it completely clear that I wasn’t expressing interest: just small talk.

“Yeah; for now. But you might want to check back in a week,” he said.

“Oh? This sounds like there might be a good story in there,” I said, perking up.

“I suppose. I’ve always really been single; you know the closet, then all of this damn work, not to mention virtually non-existent pool of possible suitors. I mean I’m not opposed to the notion of dating, but all of the blocks haven’t really fallen into the right places,” he said putting his pencil down on the table and slouching down in the chair.

“Well you can’t exactly sit around and do nothing and wait for the blocks to fall out of the sky in perfect order.”

“That’s what they tell me, and I know it; however, getting everything in perfect order is a lot harder than you’d think.”

“I know.” I said taking a sip of a Pepsi. “They?”

“Never mind,” he said as his face went blank while he looked for the next thing to say, and got lost somewhere along the way.

“So you’re not opposed to dating someone, circumstance has prevented you thus far, but what’s this about a week?” I asked hoping that this would bring him back around to the juicy gossip that I was waiting for.

“Wha--? Oh, right. Yeah,” He said as he found his place and resituated himself in the land of the coherent. “So there’s this guy…”

“This sounds like it’s about to be a really bad pun.”

“I sure hope not,” he said chuckling.

“Who?”

“Just think, out of the people we know, who seems the most likely to be gay?”

“Tom?!?” I asked shocked that he would even think of being interested in Tom.

“No, not Tom, you Dimwit,” he spat.

“Oh, yeah, him, that seems like a fairly safe bet, though I’m not sure.”

“Are we ever really sure until they tell you? Even then? At this age, here, it’s scarcely even worth it. But beside all of the obvious little things which don’t necessarily mean a whole lot, he’s been flirting with me for weeks,” he said, attempting to not seem shallow or devoid of insight.

“Yeah, I’ve kind of seen that.”

“And the vibes I’m getting from him are somewhat intense. But you’ve noticed it too? A couple of other people noticed it. That’s a good thing I guess, I mean it makes me feel like I’m not projecting this all,” he said sounding relieved and somehow excited. Now he was interested in telling the story: it looked like I just might get my story after all.

There was a prolonged silence where neither of us spoke, and before he got the chance to drift off into some other realm, I thought it might be a good idea to jump start the conversation. “So say something. I don’t want to count how many times you’ve told me that one.”

He chuckled: this was a start. “Yes, but given his reputation I wouldn’t want to push to hard and have him be wierded out and run away screaming.”

“He was great when you came out though,” I pointed out recalling the somewhat comedic episode.

“Yeah, and that really surprised me, so I’m questioning all of my previous assumptions, but at the same time you know people act differently when ‘You’re Gay?’ suddenly becomes ‘I’m Gay,’ and I’m not about to ruin anything with rash behavior.” He explained.

“Fancy that!”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I said smiling. “I agree and in the end it’s you’re relationship—such as it is—after all. We’ll ignore for a moment the fact that it’s so obvious to everyone that you two are cruising each other,” I said, punctuating the point with a grin and a very soft chuckle.

“I suppose, but anyway. Things may be looking up though.” he said shifting his weight in the chair and yawning.

“So you’ve said. What happens this week?” I asked. We’d discovered long ago that blunt communication was better in the long run for all involved parties.

“Well a couple of days ago he said ‘And there’s something I need to talk to you about,’ in that way. I mean what else could it be?”

“I’m not going to answer that for your piece of mind.” I said chuckling.

“Oh, shove it would you,” he spat. “When I approached him about it later, he was like ‘after we get done with this next project,'” he said illustrating his quote with a wide sweeping gesture that puzzled me slightly.

“That doesn’t seem logical.”

“Well it wouldn’t be logical to you or me, but let’s look at it from where he’s standing,” he suggested and stared at me, I suppose he expected me to take in the alternate perspective without any assistance.

“I suppose it makes sense. Maybe a perfectionist thing, or just wanting to have free time, or just wanting to be free of commitments so he can crash and smolder if he needs to,” I theorized, speaking almost before the thoughts were fully formed.

“That’s where I was coming from. The accounting for every contingency would certainly fit with the character,” he agreed.

“Since the project is over this week…”

“Yep. Whatever will happen will happen.”

“Which is of course too slow for you right now?”

“I don’t think time could move slower,” he lamented

“Hi there Mr. Kydd! What’s the plan for today’s class?” I called out over his shoulder to our history teacher; the only problem was that Kydd was on the other side of the building stuck in front of a half awake, at best, class at the moment.

He jumped in his chair and looked around frantically for the teacher who wasn’t really there; but the point was made. “I hate you. I really hate you. You know that don’t you?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, not to seem like a complete asshole right now, but why are you getting your hopes up, he’s not going to be here or anywhere close in six months, and besides you two have diametrically opposed interests and opinions. If you don’t kill each other within the first six seconds, I’d personally be shocked,” I said growing serious. The sad part is that it was the truth.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence. I think worrying about him leaving is really putting the carriage before the horse, hell; this whole conversation is putting the carriage before the horse,” he said appearing somewhat frantic.

“I’ll give you that one,” I said looking inquisitively as he calmed down a little. “But you still are opposite types.”

“Isn’t that what makes things interesting. And I don’t think we’re opposite types. Opposite backgrounds perhaps, but are we really so diametrically opposed type wise?”

“Probably, but you’re right, I suppose.” I said. Despite the fact that he was slightly confused and not quite sure of where he was going, he still had more insight into this screwed up world than he, or anyone else I knew, deserved to have. Damn him.

“I mean where’s the fun if you always know what he’s going to say, do, or think? Remember what Brad Grahm said in that Fray story? ‘Passion, requires just that, an undying passion to discover the unknowns of the other person’ or something like that.”

“Granted,” I relented reluctantly.

“So there’s not much I can do,” he said loosing himself to some alternate plane of thought, only this time I let him go.

“Except wait.”

“Except wait,” he repeated absentmindedly.

I’m staying after school tomorrow to talk to the Site Based Management Committee about establishing a Gay Straight Aliance/Support Group at our school. It should be an easy process, and the nice thing is that we don’t even need to have this group’s approval, because of the established practices and all of the language in the Federal Equal Access Act, and how the school has functioned in the past; all we need is the principals go ahead. We have faculty sponsors, and support from enough students to, at least in my mind make it work.

The ironic thing is that as of next year, I’m going to be the student representative to the committee for the 2003-2004 school years. How funny. Really I see this as ironic, because after trying to get on the student council and failing reputedly, I’m going to achieve something way more important than that, and I’ll get a vote (I assume) that really counts for something. How awesome is that? Not to mention the fact that collages especially schools like Antioch will jump over this kind of community leadership kinds of things. And the truth is that I think it would be nice to be a part of this kind of discussion, instead of just being affected by the implications of it.

But about the Metro High School Gay Straight Alliance/Support Group. It’s really a benign group that has the distinct possibility of being one of the most active groups in our little school of 236 (this year; normal capacity is about 260). It’s also going to be established with a minimum amount of hassle, and with all luck meetings will start next year. One thing I’m really proud of is that it’ll set a really good precedent: as the first school in the district to have a GSA, students in other schools within the district (there are 12 high schools in the district) should be able to establish groups without any real problem. Also, since Metro is the top performing school in the area, and ranks very high in the state as a whole, we’ll be noticed, and I hope some good will come of that.

We’re also fighting against a bill in the state legislature that would make it illegal for a school or school district to adopt non-discrimination language that is more accepting than existing state and federal laws. Basically, it would make it impossible for a school district to protect GLBT students, and staff even if they wanted to. Because of the way the Federal Equal Access Act is worded, this won’t impact the group but it’s a scary prospect in any case.

In any case it’ll be a big day, and hopefully a fairly easy one at that.

With the start of Queer as Folk’s new season I’ve discovered or rediscovered a new addiction. While it’s still technically true that I don’t watch any television, the approximately 42 minuets per week is a very good thing. Kazza is to blame.

I found out about the show during the hiatus, and got my fingers on the lion’s share of the episodes and was hooked. There characters are honest, dynamic, and you can sympathize with just about all of them (including, and perhaps especially, Brian), and in a single episode you can both laugh out loud and cry if your inclined. The show will also, if you want it to, make you think seriously about the issues discussed. This isn’t the kind of show that you sit, watch, and forget. You get involved. Additionally, because this is a Showtime show, it doesn’t have to go through network censors, and it has a much larger production budget than network shows; this allows the producers greater freedom, and the ability to get a better crew and some really impressive actors.

As an artistic work, the show is very precise and planed, and very little is left to chance. The writing is excellent and uses devices that I’m gleefully surprised when I see them used in fine literature. For instance in an episode mid-to-late last season, two characters (Justin and Ethan) were having their first real discussion, and after Justin leaves, we switch to a view to a metronome swinging back and forth as Ethan’s fuzzy form resumes his violin playing. An obvious foreshadowing experience and just watch this season to see what happened. I love it when they do things like that: I think it shows that the producers and writers are working to create something more than another hour of television that’s only laurels are the cute faces and bare asses of the ensemble lead.

Having said that, Queer as Folk, doesn’t shy away from showing sex. But we should say, that in point of fact, it’s pretty good about using it artistically and to make a point. It gets to be gratuitous after a while with Brian, but that is the point. It’s honest and blatant, qualities that I admire above just about everything else. It is not representative of Gay and Lesbian people everywhere, but it does cover a certain spectrum of the popular culture. I think the show’s caught a lot of flack for not being representative, and I suppose it’s a problem when there aren’t many ëgay' shows around, but forgiving this problem in the production houses, it does a good job at what its trying to do. After all, shows like Sex and the City, Dharma and Greg, and Mad About You (can you tell how long it’s been since I’ve even vaguely followed sitcoms?) aren’t exactly representative of the hetrolifestyle but you don’t see everyone up in arms about that.

It’s some of the most compelling television drama around, because it breaks the mold, because it steps outside of the norm, and in doing so provides a perfect example of how there is really little that separates us as people, despite what separates us legally and culturally. If you get Showtime, check it out, if you don’t get Showtime, work something out with your local Kazza provider to get something together. It’s not mindless television and unlike a lot of junk that’s out there you don’t feel like you’ve just wasted 45 minuets when its done.

As you’ve seen I finished the book that I’ve been working on for most of the time that I’ve operated this domain. It feels great and I think in some ways it marks a change in the eras of my life. Henceforth referred to as BCG and ACG (before and after Circle Games). No, no matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone thinks I’m a writer. I write, and I must write; and while you may have believed this before, I may have doubted it. Now, I don’t doubt my writerly existence (ability and skill are always fair game). With enough work, time and inspiration, I feel like I can do anything. It may sound kind of hokey and pretentious, but I ensure that its not.

For the entire length of my recorded presence on line, I’ve kept my age fairly secrete. Partially because when I started 4 or so years ago, I was 13-14 (for those of you who don’t feel like doing the math or don’t have enough fingers, that would make me 16—17 in three months) and I wanted to be taken seriously. Four years changes a few things, and I’m no longer as invested in other people’s (virtual) impression of my age. Before the internet was my primary publication venue, and in order to reach respectable audiences and gain a reputation, I think I needed to present myself in a certain way. I never lied, technically, though I admit I did chose words carefully with the intention of creating an image that was several years ahead of the current reality. But no longer. If I want to publish some writing on the internet, people will either have to accept me in terms of who I am, and on the basis of my work, or (and this will likely be far more common) I’ll be publishing on TealArt and CollectiveArts, where I’m in control.

I think know would be a good time to explain Chris. He got added to this effort at some point, but I don’t think we ever really explained how we know each other. 3-4 years ago, we frequented an IRC (internet relay chat) Channel (#babylon5, and later #babcom2 as well on the Undernet, for those of you that care). Not that we ever talked about Babylon 5, really, but we have/had that common connection. Really the best conversations we had in that channel, or the ones that I really remember were about American Literature and how much we didn’t like it, but it was bore than just a bitching session, because in retrospect our arguments were fairly well constructed. Gosh, the things I did/do in my free time. In any case, we just started talking, and we haven’t really stopped. There’s a good deal of variation, but we tend to average 7-15 thousand words of IM transcripts a week. Oh, and he’s all of two years older than me.

Despite the fact that I’ve known that my family reads this journal, it’s finally starting to sink in and I’m starting to feel watched and hovered over. I’m trying to ignore this as best I can. So I have a favor to ask of you three, and anyone else whose still reading: leave comments on the entries as a way of telling me that you’ve read the entry and are interested in what I’ve said (and want to further a discussion). Being told “Oh I read your website,” by family freaks me out still. Commenting is really cool, and I’d like you all to add your thoughts. Please?

We interrupt this irregularly scheduled Personal Update to mention that in case you were wondering, there is some semblance of a coherent point hidden somewhere in here. Thank You.

There’s no really easy way to do this so, I’ll try not to flounder around too much. I’m gay. But if you’ve spent any time reading this site, and hadn’t guessed that by now, you’re not very good at reading subtly. Not that I’ve been using this site as the penultimate closet case weblog, but for any number of reasons it wasn’t time to come out yet, so I didn’t. Now, though, I’m as ready as one can get. Which is to say, not very, but I’d grown to a place where If I didn’t come out soon, I might have completely broken. So time for all the questions I know you’re asking: Yes I’m completely sure, for god only knows what reason, I doubted and questioned for a year and floundered around a lot, but after a year of agitation, everything finally settled and it all became clear. For those of you wondering the order in which I came out to people, here it is: Tracy, Chris K., Rachel, Molly/Anna S., Alex P., Mary, Anna T., Alex S., Eric, Halley, Chris A., and so forth; after a while it becomes kind of nebulous and hard to track. Yes, I’m the only out/semi-out guy in my school of 236, and while we have bets on a few people, we’ll just have to wait and see. I’m not dating anyone, even in the vaguest of definitions, and while I’m open to the prospect in theory, I realize that it’s kind of impractical right now, and everything’s comfortably cool.

It’s been said that being gay is hard, that it’s a hard life. First of all, I thank whoever said that for not using the word lifestyle, because after all diets and life has very little in common. Second of all, I think the gay part has very little to do with anything. Life isn’t easy, it’s not for the faint of heart (bad pun, I know, I know). The only thing that I know is that I have absolutely no control over being gay, not that I’d want to. It’s part of me, of who I am and I like me just the way I am. Also, I can tell you that the extra difficulty that being gay adds to life is virtually non-existent in comparison to being gay and locked on your ever shrinking closet.

It’s a continuing saga, and I think now that I’ve made this jump; you’ll see a few more things on this subject.

I’m happy, and each time I’ve come out to someone, after the initial milliseconds of fear before they respond, I feel as if I’ve woken up, as if I’m starting to become hole. Even on a cloudy day, it feels like a bright shiny morning. That’s why it’s right, because deep down in my bones it feels right, it feels like what I need to do, and it feels like me: I have to trust this, or else I can’t really trust anything.

This isn’t the personal update that I promised, that’s still forthcoming. Right now I have a real short little ditty that I need to post.

On March 29th at 12:50 CST while listening to Silly Wizard’s version of Andy M. Stewert’s “The Queen of Argyll” on constant repeat for sevral hours, after returning from the Tioniol (Mississippi River Celtic Music Festival) Friday Night Celidh (At the St. Louis Brewery and Taproom) with music by Bohola) I completed the very first first draft of Circle Games. My Novel.

Statistics: 100,732 words 454 Pages 23 Chapters + a Prologue and an Epilogue 1.36 megabyte MS Word XP file 9 months of work.

Never before have I looked forward to revisions, like I’m looking forward to them now. I want to get through this, I’ve gotten past a really difficult first step, one that I don’t know if I ever though I’d be able to really pass, and now I’m there and its done. I feel like it’s all down hill from here.

I’ve decided to work on a collection of short fiction this summer rather than another novel. I want to get a piece in the Blithe House Quarterly, and I want to get stuff for The Fray, among other things, but I also want to have a good body of work. I’ll also be working on revisions. Goggle anything that I didn’t put a link on, sorry, I’m about to try to sleep though I’m really excited. Cheers!