By Jeff Walsh
As is the case with any journey, where you've been is just as important as where you're going. Whether your specific journey is life, a well-earned vacation or gay liberation, you need to be able to look at a map and be able to point at where you are at present to better understand the future direction.
By Jeff Walsh
On Oct. 10, a group of North Carolina State University students were painting notices supportive of National Coming Out Day in the university's Free Expression Tunnel. "It's a great day to come out" and similar messages being painted by gay student group members were meant to encourage people to disclose their sexual orientation in a friendly, supportive manner.
About 10 students came through the tunnel as the group was painting, according to Kevin, the co-chair of the gay student group. The group of seemingly-drunk students was quick to disclose both their sexual orientation - heterosexual -- and their dislike of anyone who didn't share that orientation.
By Jeff Walsh
For many gay youth, falling in love is a distant dream. While their heterosexual peers are making their first awkward forays into dating and romance, queer teens usually either play it straight or go asexual. Few are out, and those who are usually can't find a date due to lack of options.
*inspired by the song "Lover's Spit" by Broken Social Scene.
Golden red, your arms were a sinewy fence around
my form as we sat on the fire escape overlooking
a schizophrenic town.
Your lips tickled my cheek and I stroked the back
of your head, twisting
my fingers in your burnt wheat-colored strands.
"Remember when we used to get excited over
the smallest things," I asked.
"Like kissing awkwardly and
stumbling through doorways,
dragging in the scent of fresh
cut grass and angel's sweat?"
"Yeah," you said. "But let's play it out again,
baby, before Philadelphia
Thanks to all who read and left notes for my first journal entry, it's great to know that people here understand and care.
I've decided, with the urging of my brothers, to write a separate journal about how each of us met, which will lead to how we ended up being brothers.
I was three when my mom died, and honestly I don't remember her much. Fortunately we have lots of pictures of her, but otherwise she's just an illusion to me.
This will likely "strike home" for more than just a few Oasies™. The longing to be important in the life of another is well portrayed!
Let me tell you, my step-mother was a nasty piece of work. Greedy, manipulative, conniving and evil. She had given birth, the result of her first trap, to a male reptile two years younger than I. A boy who would live his life just as protected and probably even more swaddled outside of her womb as he was when he was still at the larva stage of his development.
Hey everyone. I'm back again. I've been pretty sick. I will probably get surgery in the next month or so. I hope it'll make me better. I might have to stop dancing for awhile. It's pretty depressing. I'll live though.
In the summer, the weed will ascend through the air, drifting in the comfort of the breezes that puncture the heat.
To avoid wilting, dig through the basic soil and lift the vegetation. Separate the roots and hold the leaves in the heat of the sun. As the acid pours from a cloudless sky, allow the plant to metamorphose and play with imaginary letters in a disillusioned Heaven.
As the music stops, pull the television chord and allow the Earth to choke to death.
The needles and discs of PVC were the harbingers of transcendence.
