By Janis Ian
The Dads (surely you remember them from previous articles) are worried that their son, Jason, will grow up with no sense of tradition. It's difficult enough parenting as a gay couple, striking new ground with every step; the child needs some sense of continuity. Not wishing to inflict their own religious stereotypes on him and being more inclined to paganism (or priapism) than to regular churchgoing, they've decided to teach him the religions of the world. Christianity seems a good place to start, since many of Dad 1's forebears were Catholic priests. "Besides," they reason, "if we start early, he'll have more time to get over it later on."
By Jeff Walsh
When Elizabeth Katz was 14, she had an experience that forever changed her life. "I had an experience I don't think very many people have," she says, now 18 and a first-year student at Vassar College.
"It was some sort of voice in the back of my head," she says. "I was sitting on my bed, alone in my room and the little voice said: 'Hey, know what? You're gay.' And it was just boom, everything made sense.
By Jeff Walsh
Before I was born, Janis Ian was making beautiful music. And with her spare, acoustic recent album "Revenge," the tradition continues. Going into the interview, I was more familiar with her humorous and poignant columns in The Advocate. For some reason, although I had picked her CDs up in stores, I never bought them.
...but a little salt taken at the same time is obligatory! :)
It seems like I've found something akin to a GSA at my university recently. We have a Queer Department to assist with LGBTI discrimination across the university, but there are also student committees including one specially for science and engineering people! YAYNESS! There was an informal meeting a week ago so I went to that. Admittedly it was only a group of less than 10 people, but it seems like they're doing a lot of good work finding safe places for us to work once we graduate.
There was too much power
in the air when we met.
It tasted like salt and
stuff little boys are made of;
plastic yellow and blue cars,
candy wrappers and lined paper.
You wrapped a hand around
the back of my neck,
made me feel the warmth
of sex and freedom;
hard kisses under a streetlamp,
in front of a church
just for the sake of showing
how bad-ass we were.
Oh boy, what did I get myself into?
Another evening of misdemeanors with you,
burning scrapes on my spine,
pink t-shirts and car doors slamming as we
ran into the birthday glitter
So my debate and speech group performed our speeches for an assisted living facility for the elderly this evening. Or was it technically late afternoon? Anyways, my best friend Beth (who I have a crush on and doesn't know I'm bi) was home from college, and since her brother and sister are in the club and her parents run it, she emceed the performance. Afterword we all went out for ice cream. It was a lot of fun. The conversation varied from horror movies to colonies on mars leading to a mars revolution.
New age music has been greatly inspiring me. I've been playing ultra chill new age guitar, hooked up to Ableton and ran through delay, reverb, resonation, etc. and it's really changed my perspective on everything, and made me much more relaxed. I highly recommend getting into this music or playing it.
Thank you, Devin Townsend, for making the album Ghost. Also, does anyone here know any music similar to this?
Daddy was a very smart man with horrible decision making skills. My melancholy and not so fortunate story starts with a man who brought me into this world seven years before he decided it was time to say goodbye to the air that travelled through his damaged lungs. My father was a foster home, lost cause, individual set between metal bars. An alcoholic. And addict. Whatever the twisted, mangled, frayed, and shattered label may have been, to me he was my father. Daddy heard the voices; he starred down the un-seeable with this quickly fading sanity. ..
I think I swallowed your name that night in the bar.
I think you infected my veins while the music was
raging some 90s rock song and nobody was
paying attention to us as we ran to the back
room of this exile for tar-winged children.
And boy, now you're starving for some
sort of distraction in button-down lust;
a porn star type in DKNY jeans.
But I'm not one of those underground souls,
looking to lose consciousness
in pretty lashes and money-grabbing directors.
Honey, you can take a cab home because
I'm only here for the bottled-up affection
you said would never be mine