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.

12 Steps to Godliness

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Blade Runner: The Final Cut

Above: Movie poster for Blade Runner, circa 1982.

Blade Runner: The Final Cut
Clearview Ziegfeld Theater
54th Street between 6th & 7th Avenues
Monday, October 15th, 8:30pm

Click this link to buy tickets.

Be sure to change the date to the 15th before you purchase.

This is an open invitation to join me in viewing this sci-fi classic. This version is a complete remastering and final cut by Ridley Scott. It is only playing in NYC and LA through October 18, so this will be your only chance to see it on the big screen.

I'm meeting my crew in the plaza in front of the theater at 8:00pm. We'll have plenty of time to hobnob, get snacks, and find good seats. I suggest buying tickets in advance, as this limited screening may be very popular.

Hope to see you there!

From Hell's heart, I stab at thee.

Above: screen shot from a Family Guy episode which featured a Wrath of Khan scene.

Last Friday afternoon I was browsing the movie listings when I noticed that Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan was screening at midnight. What??? Hello??? Wrath of Khan???

I'd seen listings for Rocky Horror Picture Show at midnight, as well as a couple of other cult classics. But who ever heard of Wrath of Khan being included in that category of weird movies people will come out to see late at night? After contemplating this weirdness for about sixty seconds, I decided I could not miss it.

I sent out a call for victims, but it was last minute so not many could go. Matticakes and I headed down together after partaking of some herbal recreation. We fueled up with candy, popcorn, and soda at the theater.

From the credits it was clear that this was going to be a fun ride. All the actor names came up in classic 1980s style before any of the action began. The theater cheered for their favorites and you wouldn't believe how many loved George Takei!

It had been quite some time since I last saw this film. I completely forgot how campy it is! The audience laughed, quoted lines, and generally had a fun time. It wasn't quite the production that Rocky Horror would be, but it was still quite a party.

All in all, it was another great "only in NYC" evening.

Delicately Presbyterian.

Above: beauty shots of the new Casavant pipe organ at Brick Church.

Last night I heard Stephen Tharp play a lovely recital on the above instrument. This was my second experience with the instrument and my fourth Tharp recital. Overall, I think the Casavant is an incredibly interesting instrument that never quite becomes great, and Tharp is an fantastic recitalist and virtuoso.

First of all, Tharp is amazing. As this is the fourth recital of his I've heard in NYC over the past three years, I think I have a fair sampling of what he can do. He was actually the first organist I heard in recital in NYC, and that was on my first trip to St. Mary's, so I owe some of my recent elevated infatuation with both pipe organs and St. Mary's to him. His playing is spectacular. As another attendee aptly stated, he is capable of great flash for the grandiose pieces, as well as quiet beauty for the more serene moods. At times I could hardly believe how fast his fingers were moving. The Dupré was especially impressive--he laid into the 2nd Symphony at a breathtaking pace and he never let up through all three movements. The first movement was especially fun for me, as I have a recording of it I rather enjoy, and hearing it live for the first time played so very well was really special. Tharp had an entirely different take on the piece, one which I liked a lot better than the recording. I was on the edge of my seat.

The Casavant is a peculiar instrument. It's very, very good, make no mistake about that. It is unique in that it was built as a virtual copy of a Cavaillé-Coll French Symphonic instrument of the 19th Century. Modern materials were used, of course, but a vast number of too-technical-for-me details were created in the historic fashion, so the instrument probably comes close as any American pipe organ to accurately reproducing the sound for which the great French Symphonic composers wrote their music. This no-compromise approach to organ building is unique in the U.S., as by far most instruments are built here to adequately handle all of the major periods of pipe organ repertoire, rather than focusing on any one. The "plays everything" sound is, simply put, the origin of the American Classic school of organ building.

I appreciate the great effort and care that was devoted to creating this instrument, and I readily hail it as a success in reaching its goal. However, it's not really my favorite sound for pipe organs.

I think its strengths are its dynamic range and variety of colors in its solo stops. The organ can play so beautifully at nearly-inaudible volumes that I found myself sitting forward in my seat, straining to hear the teasing, subtle, precious sounds. From that low level it grows smoothly and steadily up to fortissimo, without a hint of any abrupt rank additions. Also, at times the solo stops sang out with incredibly interesting and colorful sounds. Unlike the Dobson at the Kimmel Center, I really felt the variety of options available in a 118 rank instrument, and every new rank presented a new idea.

The weaknesses for me came with the full organ sound. The organ seems weighted toward the high end of its range, without much gravitas in the bass. I know it has a full compliment of 32' and 16' stops, and I could certainly hear them played, but they never shook my insides. I want to feel the pew vibrating with the power of the final big chord. Perhaps the problem arises because the two sections of the organ reside on either side of the choir/altar area, and speak across that narrow space to each other, rather than directly out into the sanctuary. The result is a subtle difference which may not even be measurable in terms of volume, yet significantly affects the sound. Imagine a person singing a song just around a corner from where you are listening. You'll probably hear them without any trouble, but at least half of the sound will be the result of reflections, rather than hearing it directly, and the difference will stand out. The result is a somewhat muddy sound which kept me from hearing much of the quick keyboard work Mr. Tharp was doing, along with the lack of bass presence.

All in all, while it's easy to find issues with this pipe organ, it is still a gorgeous, complex, and unique instrument which I thoroughly enjoy hearing. Stephen Tharp brought out the best in it, without a doubt.

It was truly a lovely way to spend an evening, and well worth the trek to the stodgy Upper East Side. Why do I love scaring all the delicate Presbyterian ladies into clutching their pearls? I suppose I could wear my work drag and avoid all that, but it's really not me, so they just have to put up with my skinny black jeans and gold-skulled Vans. Oy, I'm a bad person.

There's no such thing.

Above: Bonfire, Spiky, and myself cheesin' it at Wednesday's Newd party. Yeah, we look like goobers, but clearly we don't care.

You love Nasty Pig don't you? Yeah, I know you do.

Well, I'm a little late posting this, but you should definitely check out David, owner of Nasty Pig, educating Mo Rocca on jean fit. It's hilarious.

Click here.

Frankly, I don't know what the debate is all about. There's no such thing as too tight, everyone knows that.

From the sound of things, if I moved to Idaho I could be governor. I love NYC and all, but that is somewhat tempting.

Big, bad, bold.

Above: photos from the Newd party last night at the Eagle.

Wow, what a good time that was. Do I look happy tying up the hottie? Actually, it was the end of the evening by then, and I was untying him. Hopefully a clear photo of the body harness will come through, because it was fairly impressive. Of course he looks hot with all the lights as well. Peter does an amazing job with the photos.

It's a good thing I'm not actually a bondage top, because I'd spend most of my time making things pretty, and very little worried about whether my bottom was having any fun!

I never thought I'd be part of performance art, but that's really what it is, and it a whole big bucket of fun. I'm going to be smiling about it for a long time.

All worked up.

Above: The Most Reverend Katharine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop and Primate of The Episcopal Church of America.

As I said this weekend, I'm not a very good Episcopalian. Yes, I go to church and I make my donations, but my faith don't quite rise to the level of sainthood. In fact, I might best be called an agnostic theist, though I acknowledge the inherent contradictions and problems with that point of view. For me, contradictions are not a fatal flaw. Many, many elements of my life are at odds with each other and I feel no drive to resolve them. I nurture my contrary nature.

This is not to say that religion, and specifically the Episcopal Church of America, is not important to me. My participation is sincere. The inherent unprovable nature of deity does not invalidate the benefits of morality, ethics, love, support, and community which are the result of religion at its (arguably rarely seen) best. I cannot know and will not pretend to have discerned the nature and will of God, but the beliefs of the Episcopal Church constitute a reasonable "best guess" to me, and as a practical matter it is undeniable that my participation in church is a net benefit to my life, and I hope to the lives of others.

Then there's the fact that I'm a gay man. I don't think I need to delve into the variety of ways in which my life departs from the "traditional" American norm and the lifestyle of the majority. Read a few posts down if you have any doubts about that.

These two parts of my life are important to me, so I watch the "Current Unpleasantness" unfolding within the Anglican Communion with great interest. To briefly summarize the recent statement from the bishops: we love our gays, but we promise not to marry them or make them bishops until doing so isn't going to cause a rift in the Communion. Also: get off our turf, African bishops!

The last part is actually the easiest to support. How in the world can anyone allow the prejudices of the continent of Africa influence the lives of so many Americans?
We are vastly different cultures in far more ways than just our tolerance of homosexuality. We generally have no problem coexisting with those differences, though we'd never consider allowing one culture to impose its way of living on the other. Why in this one area does it become reasonable? Who are these American bishops who can look their peers in the eye while facilitating this incursion into their jurisdiction, which has borders that should be protected as a matter of course, for patriotic reasons, if nothing else? It boggles the mind.

As the issue of full inclusion of gays, I don't find myself terribly worked up about any of the recent events. I accepted long ago that I am on the outside of American culture. I don't believe in marriage for anyone--least of all the gays. Why are we fighting to join this failed, flawed, and feeble institution? My relationships are not likely to ever fit into the mold it demands. For the rest, I acknowledge that full inclusion and open participation for gays in every part of the church is an appropriate and admirable goal, and at the same time I'm not shocked or dismayed that we haven't quite reached it yet. To me it seems that the bishops are taking baby steps toward the goal, or at the very least are not giving up ground. Their most recent proclamation does not represent "caving in" to the African demands. They have merely slowed the rate of progression toward full inclusion.

We'll get there, I'm confident of that. I will continue to support those who fight for inclusion. I will also be happy with a result that finds the middle ground and maintains the fabric of the church. Compromise is a good thing. Time and generational change will ultimately wear away at these illogical prejudices.

At any rate, I'll be praying for that in church on Sunday.

Best ad ever.

This is, without a doubt, one of my favorite advertisements ever.

The fact that it pisses off CWA and zillions of other crazies makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I told you I'm a weird Episcopalian.

Via Towleroad.

Without clothes.

Above: poster for this Wednesday's Newd party at the Eagle.

The image is of a bondage scene created by Bonfire and myself at the last party. I'm rather proud of how it turned out and the photo by Peter Lau makes it look even better than it did in person.

The upcoming party has a "best of" theme and you can bet Michelangelo has an exciting and outrageous lineup of fun. I'm on board for another rope creation and some other surprises.

Nekked are crazy talented, hot, and great to hear live.

Come out and enjoy NYC's freshest concept in fetish art and entertainment.

Blow by blow.

Above: ganked from Hypofixx.

I don't generally write blog posts which are simple recountings of events or my day-to-day life, because I prefer to focus on the smaller, more interesting stories buried in the rough. The only time I really regret this is when I travel. So this is a brief account of my birthday and trip to DC last weekend.

The whole thing actually got off to a very bad start. The Eagle for Code on Thursday night was a complete disaster. I became very upset and I didn't even stay until midnight to toast in my new year.

Which meant that I got plenty of sleep Thursday night and had no trouble getting up for the bus on Friday morning. Matt was fairly amazed that I answered my phone the first time he called. I was upset about the previous night when I woke up, having that tight anxious anger in my chest feeling, so I took half a Xanax before we left the house. Even had I not been upset, this would have been a wise choice, as it made the 4.5 hour trip down very tolerable. In fact I slept through most of it, which was only a problem when I'd wake with a crick in my neck from my head lolling to the side. Hopefully I didn't snore too much, though it's not like it ever bothers me.

Matt and I disembarked on time and hopped into a cab for Scott's apartment. Scott was finishing up a job, so we stopped in at Dakota Cowgirl for lunch. I'm not generally crazy about the restaurant, as I've only been there during MAL when it's swamped and the service and food are sub-par. Fortunately our lunch was tasty and our server was attentive, friendly, and flirty.

We soon joined Scott and dropped our bags at his apartment. The tone of the weekend was clear from the beginning; we relaxed, chatted, and caught up on our lives, and none of us seemed to feel any pressure to move quickly. It's always so nice to see Scott, because we seem to pick up our friendship vibe as if we hadn't gone months without seeing each other.

After a change of clothes we headed down to Titan/Ramrod for bear happy hour. Scott said attendance was low, but I thought there were plenty of guys there, and I was quickly reminded of how much like a pinball I feel in a room full of bears. This did not dampen my mood, however, and we had a cheerful couple of drinks while meeting several of Scott's friends. At some point I saw a guy with a shirt that read "TOPEKA," so naturally I grabbed him and said hello. I think we ran into the same guy three or four times over the course of the weekend, and every time he'd point and yell "Topeka!" Some people are so easily entertained.

As happy hour was winding down we slipped across the street to Thaitanic for dinner. I had a very tasty and spicy chicken dish with peanut sauce on a bed of broccoli. It's always nice to have Thai outside of Hell's Kitchen, because while our Thai restaurants are very good, they tend to have remarkably similar menus. After dinner we walked back to Scott's place and did some more hanging out, watching videos, and enjoying each other's company. (Are you sensing a theme yet?)

Saturday we woke to a beautiful day. Scott had some work to do, so we took our leisure getting showered and dressed. We set out into the day, first stopping for coffee and scones, and then wandering up to a couple of cute shops. The first had nothing interesting, but the second had a jacket which was perfect for me. Gray, long, fitted, with lots of wonderful details. It looked great on. Everything about it was just right, except the price. I left it there, but there's a chance I may yet give in and have it shipped up. It was that good.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent at the National Gallery, which was fantastic. For all the times I've been to DC, I'd never visited any of the museums. I noticed a distinct preference for sculpture. They had three Brancusi birds which I found to be just as affecting as they were during the exhibit where I first saw them at the Guggenheim.

We did some more serious relaxing at Scott's place, which was helped along by some tasty pizza, before we showered and outfitted ourselves for the DC Eagle. The Eagle was busy and seemed to be filled with all sorts of hunky men. It's so fun being fresh meat! Matt was immediately groped, and I'm happy to report that I felt more than one unidentified hand on my ass over the course of the evening. Gene came in from wherever he lives in the boonies and we also met one of DCboL's pledges. We ran into a few other notables and fuckables, but most importantly, I met a man into full leather who is also an organist. There is no hotter species! To ice the cake, he was perfectly willing to dish about pipe organs with me. Cream.

We headed home fairly early, as we had all drank a few drinks rather quickly, and we were feeling them. Walking through the convention center area of DC in full leather is an adventure! I'm happy to say all the comments yelled from cars were very positive. It's simply ridiculous how much the girls like to flirt with boys in leather...loudly.

Sunday morning was a bit slower getting started than Saturday, owing to the previous evening's festivities. None of us was hurting too badly, however, so after some hydration and showers we were ready to go. We stopped in for donuts and coffee in the gayest of the gayborhoods, and because we had rock star parking, we were able to take a few extra minutes to stroll through Universal Gear. Scott found a couple pair of pants which fit him well and Matt and I cruised the underwear sale. Then we drove over to Georgetown, which is a gorgeous neighborhood, and we did our best impression of uppity New Yorkers slumming it in the design stores. A tour of Barney's Co-Op left me a bit sticker shocked and in wonder that anyone shops at the real Barney's. A cute fag in Zara said he loved my pants and made my day. Finally, we stuffed ourselves with Five Guys burgers (YUM) to round out the day.

The trip home was uneventful. Another xanax helped me ignore the hour delay in departure time and the guy next to me who needed to sleep curled up in a ball, with his elbow perfectly placed to hit me any time he moved. (Not Matt--there were no two seats together.) I arrived home tired but happy.

I wish I could claim some revelation, inspiration, or epiphany during the trip. I have claimed such in the past, but I think I was giving in to hyperbole at those times. It's true that distance from NYC provides perspective and respite. It's also true that the problems I leave here are always waiting for me when I return. Thankfully, this weekend has helped put me in a better state of mind to face them with resolve and calm.

Shades.

Above: Scooter, Matticakes, and moi in our shades.

The weather was gorgeous this weekend. Just warm enough to work up a good sweat while vigorously shaking down every shop in DC for cute, cute Autumn clothes. It's here, you know.

Autumn has never felt like a season of decline for me. It begins one of my new years. It brings new school, new shows, new events, new church, new routines, new direction. It's like the Summer was just time spent in the charger, storing up energy to run the game of life in the Fall.

Start.

Hanging in DC.

Above: Jesus in bondage. Need I say more?

Probably not. But I will, just a little. I took this today at the National Gallery in Washington, D.C. What a fun museum. I never thought I'd say this, but I may like modern art more than the classic stuff. The paintings by Vermeer were outstanding, but the modern East Wing by architect I. M. Pei was astounding. Not so much for the exhibits, though they were good, but for the building, which is an awesome space. I always felt I was in a building of mass enough to weather generations, but there was also a whimsical air of a school kid's geometric doodle.

Jesus, of course, was in the classical West Wing building, hanging out in a secluded corner of the sculpture exhibit.

He says howdy.

32.

Above: boys & friends, car washing.

I write to you in my last few hours as a 31 year old. This year was marked not so much with new experiences, but rather more extremes. The highs were very high and the lows were very low. I am more independent now than I have ever been, more singularly responsible for the direction of my life. I am perhaps less sane.

If I had a wish for this year, it would be for serenity. But I don't believe in such things, so I haven't just lost my wish by telling you about it.

If I had a fear for this year, it would be pride. Being my own worst critic does not elevate me above my mistakes.

If I have another year, that will be enough.

32, here I come.

Enough already, Universe.

Now listen, Universe. I've had quite enough. This needs to stop.

Robert Jordan died before finishing his Wheel of Time series.

From my childhood through my early 20s I was a voracious reader. Those who know me now might not believe it, but as a child I was incredibly shy and introverted. I spent far more time with my nose in a book than I ever did speaking with people, even my family. I was especially drawn to fantasy and sci-fi novels, though really any fiction would do. Books were my escape from the real world to a place where I was confident and happy.

Late in my high school career I worked at Claire's Boutique in the Mission Center Mall. (Yes, it's nearly the gayest job in the world, and yes, I looked the part.) On the opposite end of the mall was a Brentano's book store (remember those?) where I would spend the bulk of my paycheck.

One day on my break I was buying a book or two instead of the stack of a dozen I would have liked to have bought. I knew the couple books I could afford would never last until my next paycheck, so in despair I asked the cashier whether they had anything I could have for free. To my shock he handed me Robert Jordan's Eye of the World, a small paperback. Of course nothing is really free. When I reached the end of the book I discovered that they had only printed the first dozen or so chapters of the entire novel. Naturally, I bought the full book with my next paycheck.

Yeah, I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. But for once I didn't mind--Jordan's Wheel of Time series is really, really good. It's not so much the writing, which is average at best. What draws you in to the story are Jordan's characters and the detail with which he paints his fantasy world. There aren't just two, three, or four factions vying for control of the world--there are dozens. The main characters are complex yet bold. It is fascinating to watch them grow and change over the course of the story. Secondary characters range the gamut from peons to demi-gods, and none of them are "stock." The antagonist role shifts constantly, and though there is a clear "evil" persona who ultimately must be defeated, during any given book the conflict might come from any of a dozen different factions, most of which fall squarely in the gray area between right and wrong. The protagonists themselves often make choices which result in death and loss, and they ally themselves with people and groups who are completely unsavory, yet necessary. The system of magic is distinct from any other fantasy world and broad enough to be used in tens of thousands of ways.

The story is epic and compelling. With 11 books ranging in length from 700 to 1200 pages each, I've made a big investment in this world, perhaps more than any other author I've read. The thought that I'll never get to know how it all ends in Jordan's own words really saddens me.

So what's up, Universe? Is this one last blow at the end of my long, painful Summer? Or do I have more months of disappointment, sadness, confusion, and anger on the horizon? Because honestly, it's getting harder to deal with these losses while remaining sane and not self-destructive.

I need a break.

Enough already, people.

This is one of those posts where I don't say much more than AMEN to those who have said it better than I could. Joe writes today about Kenneth Hill's article on sissies.

I would take the idea one step further and suggest that the word "masculine," as it is seen often in profiles and descriptions of what guys are seeking online, is simply an euphemism for "straight-acting," a term which was popular five years ago but which most gay men now deride. My problem is not with masculinity, which is a quality I admire and sometimes possess. I see a problem when masculinity is held up as superior to any other way of behaving, and yes, that is exactly what most guys who use the word are doing.

It irritates me even more to see this phenomenon in Leather circles. How many times have we heard, "he was really hot until he opened his mouth and a purse fell out." How many times have the topics of musicals, flowers, decorating, or pipe organs been derided as not acceptable for leathermen? As if there is only one way to be a proper leatherman! We are complex, multi-faceted, interesting people, and there is absolutely no reason to limit the areas of interest we can discuss or explore.

If you hear someone knocking sissies, tell them to stop. If you see someone being a faggot like me, smile and be glad we're creating a country where that can happen. Fight for it. It's important.