It’s been a rough year on music. Every time I hear of another death I think that it has to be the last one for the year, that the universe or God or the FSM isn’t cruel enough to let it keep going on. And yet. A friend of my optimistically said that perhaps this leaves room for the talent of our generation to shine brighter. Continue reading “This Music is the Glue of the World*”
Category: Pinned Posts
Ampersand
[Trigger warning]
There’s a story I’d like to share with you. I’ve waited a long time to do this. Ten years. Does that sound like a long time? Maybe not. It feels like an eternity. Continue reading “Ampersand”
Between Worlds
Today is Halloween, Samhain (sow’een), the day when the veils between the worlds lift, just a fraction, just enough to see the restless dead. And my dead are restless today.
November 3, 2015
I don’t know what to say.
I don’t know what to think.
I am shattered. Heartbroken.
All the cliches are true. Every. Single. One.
***
Ben was easier to process. I knew the names of his demons. I knew where they hid. It didn’t hurt any less (do you hear me, Ben, you motherfucker? Do you know that I still miss you every day you’re not here?), but it didn’t send me reeling.
This? All I have are questions. I think:
If he could do this, who’s next? Who else do I know who is holding such unspeakable grief inside?
Was it money? Sex? Drugs? Something that can move the needle to explicable?
***
I’ve been fairly useless for the past three days. I take my girl to playgroup and to school and to eat Chinese food, and I think:
What’s wrong with our culture? What did we do to make him feel so alone? Why do we place the trappings of success above our own well-being?
Was this a wake up call? A warning? To who?
***
On Monday, NPR ran a bit about a health care plan aiming for a zero suicide rate. They screen for depression, are proactive about treatment. I think:
Would this have helped?
Would this net even have caught him?
***
I still believe, passionately, in the right to suicide. Deciding not to live is the ultimate act of self determination. Who am I to make that decision for someone else?
And yet. I think:
If there had been someone to listen, would he still have thought this the only option?
If we talked about this, if we made space for depression and anger and fear of failure (or of success or of life itself), would he still have jumped?
***
We cannot help but continue on. The hole doesn’t always close, but the edges smooth.
***
I unpacked some boxes yesterday, trying to regain some sense of order. Of control. I think:
If you’re reading this, I love you. I care about you. I would miss you.
If you need a hand to hold, you’ve got mine.
When They Call My Name, I’ll Be Standing on the Side of Love
I’ve been in two relationships in my life that I thought might end in happily ever after. The second was with the man I married. The first was with a girl I met while I was in college.
Love is love is love. The people I had crushes on in high school were the ones who sparkled beneath their 90’s-issue grunge and goth. The ones with mad dreams, with snowflakes on their eyelashes, with a better-than-suburbia attitude. Sure, I dated a guy, but I would have dated my girl-crush if she’d been interested.
I’ve never hidden what I am or who I love. If you ask me if I’m straight I’ll say no. If you ask me what my orientation is, I’ll say queer. For the most part, though, people don’t ask. They assume, because I’m married to a dude and have a kid, that I’m straight. I let them.
It’s easy to be straight. It’s safe. I don’t have to wonder if my parents, whose gay friends are some of my favorite people, would nonetheless be upset that their kid identifies as queer. I don’t have to tell my extended family, some of whom, last time I checked, firmly believe marriage should be between a man and a woman, that I’m getting hitched to another girl. I can walk down the street holding the hand of the person I love without fearing cat calls or harassment.
My hope is that by the time my daughter is old enough to read this, she won’t understand why it was a big deal. That I’m able to talk with her openly, honestly, and without embarrassment about love and sex and sensuality and sexuality. That I can teach her it is truly okay to love whomever she loves fiercely, brightly, and with beauty.
I leave you with this.