To thine own self be true.

Today I read an essay about Bishop Paul Moore, who was Bishop of New York for many years. It's quite long, but very good, and I recommend that you read it if you're at all interested in these types of things--or even if you're not. If your eyes are dry by the end, then I'm not sure what planet you're from.

Most powerful to me is not the fact that he was gay and his daughter has told the whole world about it. That's not terribly surprising, though I do commend her bravery.

What affects me is that I have known this man. Not Bishop Moore himself, but men like him.

Priests, monks, judges, doctors, lawyers, accountants, politicians...I have known them all. (No, not biblically, get your mind out of the gutter just this once, even if I can't.) They are all amazing men who exert influence over the world more strongly than your average guy. They make things happen. They heal. They give. They walk through the world surrounded by a n irresistible sphere of influence.

For the most part, these men use their power for good.

And yet they lived their lives in secret.

I have felt, all my life, that being out and proud--being all of who I am on all occasions--is critical to my mental health. Sure, I omit certain details on certain occasions. The biggest exceptions are my grandparents and my job, though the latter is arguably a simple matter of professionalism, as I'm not closeted, I just tone the personality down a lot.

These special men probably went further in society than I could because they hid their sexuality. In the process they attained positions where their unique ability to inspire was felt widely. They changed the world, if only just a little.

I'm not sure what my point is, if there is one. As I grow older and more of my dear friends leave this world, I grow less and less sure how to honor a life. I do, however, know for sure that these lives need to be honored and respected.

I did not get anything I have because of, or even mostly thanks to, my own merit.

I've seen it happen. Not to me, of course.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

It is not the critic who counts.

I don't get into politics much. Sure, I listen to NPR, I understand the broad strokes of most issues, I vote (usually for Democrats as the lesser of evils), and I occasionally raise funds or donate money to activist organizations. I don't spend much time reading about the details of the issues, debating all of it with my friends, or writing about it on my blog.

However, if you start dissing Matt Foreman, you're making it personal. I've been feeling a rant building up in my esophagus.

You see, Matt is a personal hero of mine. He is both brilliant and extraordinarily compassionate and kind, in my experience a rare combination. In the past year or two he has become a friend to me and to NYboL, which never ceases to amaze me, because he travels with great ease through the A-list scene of NYC gays. Most of those guys are perfectly content to stay entirely within their own strata. And he's not merely slumming it with us--Matt and his partner Frank instead have included me and my brothers in events which we'd otherwise never see. His focus on full inclusion of all types of queer people in our struggle for equal rights is incredibly courageous; the assimilationists at HRC have never had such balls.

So when some dude named Jamie Kirchick writes a disparaging essay about Matt, claiming that during his tenure leading the NGLTF he didn't really focus on advancing gay rights, I get mighty pissed. The man sat down in the middle of Broadway and was arrested there while protesting Don't Ask Don't Tell!!! Who among us has gone so far in recent times?

I'm glad to find that there are others out there who also find Kirchick's words to be ridiculous. To save me a rant, I'll refer you to Alex Blaze. I haven't a clue who this person is, but I am completely on board with his support of Matt and his criticism of Kirchick. Go and read it his piece.

I am sure that Matt is used to this type of thing and his thick skin is serving him well. Still, I am going to make an extra effort to thank him for all he has done, in the hopes of offsetting this dimwit conservative gay who some misguided media person decided to give a platform to spew erroneous negativity. I hope you will consider doing the same.

It is not the critic who counts
Not the one who points out how the strong man stumbled
Or how the doer of deeds might have done better.
The credit belongs to the man
Who is actually in the arena,
Whose face is marred with sweat and dust and blood;
Who strives valiantly;
Who errs and comes short again and again;
Who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions,
And spends himself in a worthy cause;
Who, if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement;
And who, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly,
So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls
Who know neither victory or defeat.

-Theodore Roosevelt (1910)

Smells like infatuation.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

I admit it. This has totally been me on more than one occasion. I know, I know. But don't act all shocked! There's a reason this blog is called Couch Stalker. You knew what you were getting into.

MALicious.

Above: Scott and I at MAL 2008.

Ah, MAL. It's one of the bookends for my year. I've attended every year since 2002. I know so many people there that I can't keep track of them all and have no hope whatsoever of remembering all the names. I generally eschew comparisons of the leather community to family, because it's a bit treacly and not really appropriate given my dysfunctional biological family. However, calling MAL a family reunion is not very far off base. It's a bucket full of fun.

This weekend I stayed with Scott, who lives only two blocks from the host hotel. Scott is my oldest friend who I still see regularly. We founded the KC boys of Leather, one of the first few boy clubs in existence, and I'm proud to say it's still going strong. We've traveled the country causing all kinds of scandal and havoc. We've laughed and cried together, succeeded and failed. We've fought like cats and dogs at times. We've always pulled through and were stronger for it. When we get together, it's like we never spent any time apart.

When I think of what it means to have a brother, I think of Scott.

Years ago, during a trip to Wichita, Kansas for a leather event, we got all dolled up in our matching Navy Dress Blues for an evening on the town. Naturally we couldn't pass up the opportunity to document the occasion. After a few appropriately stoic photos, Scott kicked his leg up in the air, I deftly caught it, and, grinning like idiots, we were rewarded with one of the cutest, gayest photos either of us has ever taken.

Last Friday during MAL we attended an invitation-only party at a gorgeous private home in Arlington, Virginia. Our hosts had a room set up with a professional photographer so all their guests could remember the occasion. After a couple oh-so-appropriate shots, Scott proved that he still has his high kick. It was fab.

MAL, IML, and alphabet soup.

A NYboL associate whose blog I read and admire inspired me to write this post. It began as a comment on his recent post regarding MAL. Ultimately I didn't feel it was appropriate as a comment, however, as I am sure he is well aware of everything I have to say. My thoughts are more for the many others who I have heard express disdain or disappointment with the alphabet soup of leather gatherings.

Expectations are the worst part of leather events, if you ask me. When did it stop being extraordinary to see so many like-minded people, who spend most of their lives exercising severe discretion in exhibiting the particular nature of their individuality and personality, instead exalting and enjoying large volumes of those beautiful qualities which make them peers? Every time I begin to feel disappointed by MAL, IML, or the rest, I remind myself of the many years of my life during which I felt no kinship to any such group, no chance to meet a man with so many important qualities understood before the first exchange of words, and no understanding of those subtle yet powerful forces of my personality which have decided the direction of almost every part of my life. That I have the health and means to live a life which provides such opportunities is good fortune and success which many would envy.

I will be in DC for MAL. I cannot possibly be disappointed. The simple fact that such a gathering exists and I can be there is enough to make me happy, and as Drew says, everything else is gravy. I hope to see you there.

I do so love sacrilege.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Ch-ch-ch-changin'

Every year when I write these updates it seems that I have just had my most dramatic year yet, full of the biggest changes of my life.  For once I think that I may have just had a year which won't be topped in the change department.

I will write updates soon on all of the recent developments.  For now, suffice it to say that I am in love.  It's an unexpected, un-euphemistic, uncomplicated, unquestionable kind of love.  It came out of no where and hit me sideways, taking me completely off guard, and not only am I defenseless, I can't think of a single reason to slow it down or stop it.  I never would have expected the year to end like this, but I'm very glad it is.

I am very happy and hopeful.

Thank you to Dave, for knowing exactly when tough and tender love are needed.  Thank you to Scott, for constancy that spans more years than that of any other, and for being the most inspirationally brave person I know.  Thank you to John, for giving me my 25th chance (at least).  Thank you to Dale, Direktor Dave, Brad, Jerry, John, Blaise, Spiky, Jake, and Ray, for teaching me about the nature of friendship, new and old.  Thank you to Papa, who understands what makes a home.  Special thanks go out to Matti, who understands some things better than those who should be teachers, and who may have saved my life.

Best wishes to everyone for 2008.

Humility.

You so crazy.

Ah, evangelicals.

Towleroad reports that Pat Robertson is claiming the highway Interstate 35 was mentioned specifically in the Bible as the "way of holiness" and should now be used to cleanse America of sin.

I was born and lived most of my life in Kansas City, where I-35 bisects the metro area from Southwest to Northeast. It's impossible to live in KC without spending hours on this highway. Rest assured, it is both full of sin itself and a conduit to many sins around the city. The number of times the Lord's name has been used in vain while waiting in traffic jams must be easily in the trillions. And if the evangelicals begin their cleansing with the most obvious and egregious offenders--the car dealerships lining most of the highway--they'll need far more than 35 days just to clean those up! The gay bars and strip joints won't get attention until 2010.

Why must so many "religious" people behave so stupidly?

See the movie. Read the book.

Brains, delicious brains.

I regret I haven't posted more lately. Life has just been overwhelmingly busy. Fortunately it's also a lot of fun and good things are happening. I'll be back to report soon. For now:


Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Dinghy, dong.

Julie is in a long-term coma and there are no indications of brain activity. The lawsuit regarding the disposition of her body will rage for years. Barring some miraculous return to consciousness, I imagine her feeding tube will be removed by a helpful night nurse any day now.

Don't cry for her, New York City. Y'all had good times, and cruising will go on without her.

By the way, law enforcement officials are looking for a shady character named Tate, who is wanted for questioning regarding the fateful evening when Julie received an unexplained blunt force trauma to the back of her head.

And I always claimed to be a geek.

Your Score: Pure Nerd

52 % Nerd, 43% Geek, 21% Dork

For The Record:



A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.



You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.



The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.



Congratulations!





Also, you might want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in any of the following:



Buffy the Vampire Slayer




Professional Wrestling






Love & Sexuality




America/Politics




Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

I aim to misbehave.

Above: Washington State Troopers were named the "best dressed State law enforcement agency" by the National Association of Uniform Manufacturers and Distributors. I'll consider doing my own personal investigation into this question. I am quite impressed that the puppy gets his own uniform!

I caught this thanks to the magnificently-named Keckler.

Uniforms are especially on my mind because NYboL's gear party last Saturday was uniform-themed and particularly successful, in my humble opinion. MAUL made quite a splash with their entrance in force. It looked like the bar was being raided! At some point I was handcuffed for some infraction. I vowed to commit greater crimes next time. Later, while we were getting some fresh air on the sidewalk, three lovely old tourist ladies asked to have their photo taken with the dashing officers. Fantastic. Thanks to all who attended.

Next month's theme is rubber. Mark your calendars for November 17th.

R.I.P. Natasha LaBelle

Always big, but never too much a diva to chase the mice.

Everything's up to date.

I'm very homesick today. I don't know why.

Improper.

I haven't posted much lately because my life has been crazy.

Last week I was busy every evening with something I had to do, and while much of it was fun stuff like the Tori concert, it's still exhausting not having any down time. The weekend was also spent running around taking care of things, and then was topped off with an early Sunday, because I had to be at church to serve at the altar at both the 10:00am and 11:00am services.

I really, really enjoy being an altar server at church, but by Sunday afternoon I could feel myself wearing down. I wasn't feeling well at all by the evening, and I ended up being sick through Tuesday. I'm still getting my strength back today.

Then work has also been busy, topped off with a lost client last night. And when I say "lost" I literally mean lost--he didn't show for an appointment and we couldn't find him. He's an 85 year old man, so it was a big concern. This morning we finally heard from him and learned that he had blacked out on his way to our office, only waking up much later and finding himself inexplicably in Midtown. As bad as that sounds, it could have gone much worse, so it was a relief to hear that he was home and safe. I had to go down to his place this morning to take care of various paperwork to resolve his matter. Apparently he has no family, and his living conditions are so sad that I'm about to cry while writing this. It's squalor, really, right in the middle of the largest city in the most advanced country on this planet. Not because he has no money--he appears to have plenty--he simply has no one who cares about him. Being in his apartment this morning was deeply disturbing to me. I have a lot to think about.

I have never felt so much like a spoiled, selfish American brat. What are these things that matter to me, the silliness that I blog about? Rope light bondage and exotic pipe organs seem so irrelevant when I'm forced to look at the unmet needs of fellow humans. How is it that I can ignore these things so completely for 99% of my life? How long will this feeling last before I go back to ignoring that which violates my sense of what is proper in the world? I can feel my imaginary world full of acceptable right angles--it's just around the corner, ready to reassert itself at any moment. Should I fight it off? Can I fight it off?

Is this a mid-life crisis? I thought I had at least another ten years before I had to worry about one of those. Oy vay.

So that's me, checking in. When this ride slows a bit, hopefully I'll have more stories to share.

Tonight, tonight.

Above: the five concept characters from Tori Amos's latest release, American Doll Posse. From left to right we have Santa, Clyde, Isabel, Tori, and Pip. One day I'll figure out why Tori is holding a chicken.

Thank god it's Friday.

Tonight Matti and I are going to see Tori at the Madison Square Garden Theater. We have pretty good seats, if I'm not mistaken. We're in the second balcony, but only a row or two back from the front, which should be good. We were online the instant tickets went on sale, but with all the brokers lately, it's almost impossible to get good seats through the normal routes.

I first saw Tori live on June 13, 2006, during her Dew Drop Inn tour, subsequent to the release of Boys for Pele. She played Memorial Hall in Kansas City, Kansas, a dinky little venue where area Catholic high schools also had their graduations. She sat alone with her piano, harpsichord, and organs, and she was fantastic.

Over the years I've seen her a couple more times, last with Scott in Kansas City, during the Scarlet's Walk tour.

Describing what Tori's music has meant to me over the years would be very difficult. I am intimately familiar with her first three albums. In fact, I'd venture to say that they contain the most influential music on my late adolescence and early adult life.

Her influence in my life has waned over the years, as she moved towards electronics and mainstream themes. Still, she produces quality work that I'm very happy to hear interspersed with her more classic material.

And I've never been to the Garden before!

All that remains to be seen is which of the five concept characters from the latest album will open the show tonight. Matti and I are hopeful we'll get Santa. Keep your fingers crossed!

Honey, I'm taking up scuba diving.

Sometimes I wonder why I can't get more boys interested in going to church with me. All the kinkiest people are at church!

Take, for instance, the minister of Montgomery, Alabama's Thorington Road Baptist Church. Rev. Aldridge was found dead, alone in his home, hogtied, dressed in two wetsuits, a rubber mask, rubber gloves and socks, with many leather and rubber belts and straps holding it all together, and all topped off with a dildo up his butt.

Of course there's no way to be sure, but I suspect that this poor man would still be alive if he had an accepting support structure around him. He managed to have some incredibly elaborate gear sex alone (how does one hogtie oneself?!?!), and it's staggering to think what he might have come up with if he had the chance to explore his kink with another like-minded man or woman. At least with someone else in the room he may not have strangled himself!

Today is National Coming out Day. It will pass quietly for me, as it does every year, because I have very few closets left. I'm lucky to live in NYC, where being different is pedestrian and conformity can be outrageous. However, for those who endure fearful lives in places like Alabama, having visible peers could make all the difference. I salute all the high-profile individuals who are brave enough to come out and live directly in the glare of today's media spotlight.

Visit Towleroad for lots of cool videos and coverage.