Darkside Rainbow

Okay, kids, this is my last post, so it’s time to take this bitch out with a bang. If I’m leaving, I’m not leaving with some pussy parting gift like a DVD. I have just ordered a 4GB silver 3rd-gen iPod Nano - that means video, kids - and one of you chickadees is walking away with it provided that we get to 3,000 comments.

This week, please. I’d like to let the head honcho know that I’m going, and when I do that depends on you.

We’re currently at 2,867 comments. Number 3,000 gets the Nano; that means we need 133 more comments. They can be on this post, on any other post, anywhere on Darkside Rainbow, as long as we hit 3,000. Spread the word; tell your friends, tell other readers, tell anyone, but let’s rack the comment count up. If we could hit 500 in one weekend (that…was psychotic), we can hit 133 in one week. You know the rules on what does and doesn’t qualify for comments by now. If you don’t, you’ll learn when your “LJSKLDJFLSJFLKSDJFKLS ;)” is number 3,000 and the person after you posting “Uh…wtf was that?” wins. Only difference is that you can still win even if you’ve won before, if you’re another blogger for 451, or even if you’re one of my friends (although the latter would be a little unfair if you haven’t previously read or commented.)

On a less abrasive note, thank you to everyone who commented on the last post explaining my reasons for leaving. I do appreciate your support and encouragement.

Now get to commenting, bitches.

…I had caffeine this morning. Can you tell?

I’ve been thinking this over for the past few days of not posting, not having anything to say, and honestly, not really caring…and I think I’m going to be leaving 451 Press soon. A fair number of other bloggers are leaving as well. Everyone has their reasons, and they’re mostly personal, nothing to do with the network. For me, it’s the fact that I’ve had a good run for a bit over a year, but it’s time to let the dead horse rest, as I’ve said before. I’m just not feeling it anymore. I said my piece, and I know when to quit before I run this place into the ground and make it a mockery of itself. It’s something like authors– ~coughsLaurellKHamiltoncoughs~ –who won’t let a series go even though it jumped the shark years ago and the last several books have been a pathetic laughingstock. I don’t ever want to reach those levels in anything that I do.

Well, that and on a mercenary note, I’m not paid nearly enough for the amount of time and work I put into this place, and I’ve really been doing it for the fun of it and for no other reason.

I’m not leaving quite yet. I haven’t turned in my official resignation or really told anyone beyond this, and mentioning earlier that I was thinking about it. I’d wanted to wrap up the 3,000 comments contest before I go; I’d said I was giving away a copy of Velvet Goldmine and I am, damn it all. We have roughly 150 comments to go. I may throw another comments party this weekend, but basically…once we hit that mark and someone wins, I’m turning in my official resignation.

It’s been fun, but I’ve moved on to bigger and better things. DR and 451 Press were a great stepping stone to get me there, but it’s time to step away.

Plus, damn it, I’m trying to finish another novel.

Just don’t start singing “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” and no one will get shivved.

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Why yes, my friends, our emo haircuts, and I do make a habit of scoping out men’s packages in our local used bookstores. Really. Yep. Sure.

For some reason, the “size matters” conversation has been coming up in multiple discussions with multiple friends lately, and it’s been driving me mad - because apparently I’m the only person on the face of the earth (and definitely the only man, gay or straight) who doesn’t think size matters. Call me fuckin’ loco, but I’ve got other things on my mind on a daily basis than the size of my dick, the size of your dick, and the size of the dick on that stranger I happened to pass in the grocery store.

Men are ridiculous size queens. We really are. We fixate on dick size and act as if it defines our worth as a person and our potential to succeed in society. I, frankly, don’t get it. As long as it stands up, lies down, functions properly, and feels good while doing it, then I don’t care if it’s two or twenty inches long as long as it works. That goes for mine, yours, his, and hers.

…well…uh…maybe not hers.

Although the size thing does get ridiculous when you’re catching instead of pitching. Here’s a news flash for those of you who don’t know about this little corner of reality: it. Hurts. And not in the good way. We’re talking in the “lasting physical damage” way. You ever read that horrible het fic where they talk about bumping a woman’s cervix with his massive love rod - and every woman within in a fifty mile radius closes her legs and screams “NO, DEAR GOD, NO!”? Yeah, well, we get that way, too. Show me a twelve-inch cock and I’ll show you a chastity belt with inch-thick steel plates over the ass. I’m very happy for you that you have a gargantuan schlong capable of clubbing baby seals to death. If you try to put that thing in me, I will promptly remove it from your person and give you a hands-on demonstration of exactly what that damn thing feels like.

I’d apologize for the crappy art on this one, make all kinds of excuses about one of those days where I have no hand-eye coordination and the pencil / stylus won’t cooperate, blah blah blah, but y’know, I’m just a mediocre artist, so let’s leave it at that. I have my good days and my bad days and my days in between. It gets the idea across.

What? You were expecting me to say something more? Go on, get outta here. Nothin’ to see here. I’ll snarl about something else tomorrow.

-Adri

”Gargantuan schlong” is almost as fun to say as “giant anime hooters”.

All right, no one’s going to get a million dollars off this, but considering where our comment count is, someone could get that copy of Velvet Goldmine that’s going for the 3,000th comment. The question:

Why are lesbian and bisexual women so into gay porn? Granted, generally not the hardcore stuff; it’s more written, or artwork, or even artistic photographs. (I’m not even into the hardcore stuff; porn just makes me giggle. Those faces they make…gods, I hope I don’t look that stupid during sex.) I kind of get it when it’s straight women; it’s the (more tasteful) equivalent of straight men getting their rocks off on lesbian porn, without the drool, grunting, and inevitable need for a wet wipe.

I’m not censuring; I’m just curious, and I’m interested in hearing you talk about your interests, why, what appeals to you, without feeling the need to defend yourself. It’s just something outside the realm of my experience; as a gay man I’m not so into lesbians or yuri fic/art/etc., so the rather large population of lesbians and bisexual women in the yaoi/shounen ai/slash community just baffles me. Since this is something I have no clue about, educate me. Be as honest and detailed as you want. If you’re not particularly interested in the attachments (or at least not interested in letting them anywhere near you, and you know, some days and with some guys I really can’t blame you), why is the erotic aspect of two men together so fascinating? Hell, if you straight or asexual girls want to throw in your perspective, too, knock yourselves out. Any story that’s worth telling is worth hearing.

This has been your “god I need sleep” post for the day.

Last night, while stripping Linux off my new Eee PC and loading Windows XP from an ISO (as much as it hurt, I love open source but the portable apps I need only run under Windows and don’t like Wine), for some reason my thoughts started straying towards my ex, Arturo - likely because of amusing memories of how completely technologically illiterate he is, and how he’d be horrified that I wiped the OS from a machine right out of the box without even hesitating. He and I were close friends in art school before we ever started dating; we lost everything for a while after he cheated, but after a few years slowly started rebuilding our friendship.

He’s in New York now, trying to finally make good on his graphic design degree, and I admit: I miss him. I don’t miss the man I used to date, but I do miss one of my best friends. It’s a rather odd sentiment for me. I don’t really keep in touch with my exes, though I’m still on friendly terms with some of them. Patrick, my first, is still a good friend that I don’t talk to often enough. I avoid Dave like the plague lest he beat me over the head with his cock ego and overwhelming need to prove himself superior. Cheung is best left alone; that much emo will choke a man, and he was honestly too young for us to have anything in common - plus I’d rather not have many reminders of my one-time adventure with borderline jailbait since I’m not particularly comfortable with feeling like a dirty old man. Takeshii…Takeshii is too complicated. It’s hard to be friends with someone that you at once love, hate, and pity. Then there’s Devon, but…that’s a story best left untold.

I wonder if it should bother me that I can’t even remember the others’ names.

I’m only 28 and I’ve been through enough men to last me a lifetime. Some serious, some not, a couple I’ve even considered tying the knot with, and I wonder if it’s a sign of our times that that’s not even considered particularly abnormal - and no, I don’t just mean the typical gay stereotype of sleeping around and going through men as if they were toilet paper. In this, heterosexuals and homosexuals have more in common than most people think.

The popular stereotype is that homosexuals are serial daters and sluts, while your average heterosexual only has a few relationships in a lifetime before committing to something. Frankly, that’s pure bullshit. Serial dating is common across all of society - in fact, it’s even promoted and made to look like some glamorous lifestyle by television, shows like Sex and the City and…well…anything prime time featuring attractive singles. Not only that, but there are plenty of people among gay and straight demographics demographics that date rarely, get involved in serious long-term relationships, or don’t date at all.

So I don’t know where this idea of gay promiscuity came from, this love ‘em and leave ‘em lifestyle where our partners are just faceless and disposable. We may have been a bit louder about certain sexual freedoms in the 70s, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t happening in straight society, too - and it’s still happening. Even though I’ve had several serious relationships, all lasting at least six months to a year, and even though I’ve blitzed through several brief flings where I figured out it wasn’t going to work after a few dates, weeks, or months…I’m not promiscuous. I didn’t sleep with every man I dated, I don’t jump in the sack on the first, second, or third date, and while I don’t remember all of their names…I do remember the ones I was serious about, and sometimes miss the friendships that we had before we ever tried for something more.

Have I had a few one night stands? Yes. There are times where you just need to feel someone’s touch, need to feel wanted, whether it’s to sate the itch or soothe an ache that runs deeper than the physical. That’s normal. That’s part of everyone’s life, the daily loves, losses, triumphs and regrets that come with trudging through each year and trying to figure out where we’re going only to end it realizing that half the fun of life is being lost. So I refuse to be vilified for being just like everyone else, save for in the gender of my loves and lovers.

I am just like you in my right to love, and even in my right to fail at love as I try with various people, looking for just the right fit.

So when you’re pointing your finger at me…remember that I’m just a mirror of you, pointing a finger right back.

This is why I shouldn’t post when sleep-deprived. Although learning to type on the Eee is quite fun; this thing is smaller than the span of my freakishly large hand. He’s tiny, cute, slick, and black, and I have named him Roman.

Sorry for a late-night update, everyone. Still working on this “What? I have to make my own schedule?” thing. That, and I’m still not quite back into the swing of things here. I’d hate to have to think that so soon after my 1-year anniversary with 451, I’d have to give DR up…but it’s starting to look that way. I’ve just got too many other things to do, I’m not really feeling it anymore, and sometimes remembering to update every day is more trouble than it’s worth, because eventually you run out of things to say. I never want to be one of those people who ends up beating the horse into the ground whining on about the same old crap with a slightly different spin. I don’t know. I need to think about it for a long time, and in the meantime, keep updating every day anyway because who knows when something might light a fire under my arse.

While I think about that, I’ve got something for a particular reader (who wishes to remain anonymous) to think about: an answer to an “Ask Adri” question.

Dear Adri,

Ever since my sister came out as a lesbian we have been drifting apart. I am afraid that because she is gay and I am straight we will not be friends anymore. We were always very close but now we have nothing in common. Talking is hard. She says nothing is wrong but we don’t do things together anymore. I don’t want to lose her but she’s leaving for college soon and I’m afraid it will get worse when she’s gone. How do I fix this?

Thank you
Lonely Sista

Really, this sounds more typical of siblings everywhere regardless of sexuality; as you age and discover who you are and where your interests lie, you’re going to end up drifting apart a little and no longer having as much common ground. You won’t always want to do things together; it’s just a matter of making sure that the path of communication is open in case you both should ever want to, and for whenever you want to talk about the directions that your lives are taking.

Do you think I always hated my sisters? I really didn’t. In fact, I still have the stuffed bear that my eldest sister gave me the day I was brought home from the hospital, and despite my feelings towards them now, that bear still holds quite a bit of sentimental value for me. I used to idolize my sisters, and they thought I was a pretty cute little bugger to have toddling around at their heels, too, as long as they didn’t have to change my diapers (and who in hell would want to?). As I grew older, though, and started developing interests of my own and establishing myself as a separate person with his own opinions, they weren’t quite sure what to do with someone who was an actual entity to be dealt with rather than just a physical representation of “oh my god baby brother and the DIMPLES SO CUTE!!!” We started drifting apart long before I knew my sexuality. Confusion over what to do with each other as people instead of childishly limited extensions of ourselves created distance, uncertainty over the cause of the distance caused fights, and those fights led to a widening rift that we never really healed and that turned into a permanent separation once I left my family behind.

The point of that? It’s a cautionary tale because anyone with an iota of common sense could have seen that coming from a mile away - anyone on the outside of the situation with zero emotional investment in it, anyway. As you and your sister establish yourselves as separate and unique (hello, special snowflake), the differences between you are going to seem more acute, and it’s going to seem easy to blame them for a sudden breakdown in communications. Don’t. The only thing stopping the two of you from talking is you and her, a little misunderstanding, and a lot of misguided and idiotic oversensitivity.

So talk to her, and make sure she knows that no matter how either of you changes, she’s always welcome to talk back to you - about anything, including anything that may be on her mind, troubles that might have nothing to do with you or her lesbianism and may be the real root behind her distance. It may be that she’d welcome your input, or a shoulder. It could even be that she’s uncertain of her welcome now that she’s out, and being tentative about exposing too many parts of her life that might make you too uncomfortable. Make sure she knows that you’re fine with it, but don’t start trumpeting a big parade, either. Normalcy is the key.

So forget on focusing on her lesbianism. There’s really no reason to see that when you look at her, other than just accepting it as a part of her as innocuous as the length of her nose. Focus on her, instead, and on being happy for her that her life is branching out, just as yours. When you’re old women with many fat nieces and nephews between you, it’ll just give you more stories to share over hot cocoa (rum spiking optional). As long as her problem isn’t that she wants to make hot incestuous monkey love with you (and I doubt she does, no matter how hard various straight men wish), you should be okay.

With or without marshmallows,
-Adri

Have a question you’d like to see answered on Ask Adri? E-mail your question to adrien-luc.sanders@451press.net with the subject “Ask Adri Question” or use the Contact Form to send your question in.

…does anyone really put rum in hot cocoa?, ask adri, gay advice column

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…stop looking at me like that. Seriously. I just saved a bunch of pictures from Undergear.com, not a single one of them naked, and I’ve been using them as references to draw various made-up characters based on the poses and body types. Not porn. I don’t look at porn.

…yeah, if you ever believe a man that tells you that, I’ve got some nice waterfront property in Arkansas for you to look at.

I’m working on getting used to drawing directly on screen like I’m drawing on paper again. So far I like the results, but after being so used to staring at the screen while drawing on the tablet separately, my standard hand-eye coordination is shot…and it shows in Red’s face. But I still think this came out better, smoother, than the old tablet drawings. It looks almost like pencil and ink, even though it was done in Photoshop (not even Manga Studio; there are issues with getting MS to recognize Wacom tablet drivers, and I’m tweaking it until it behaves properly). I really like being able to draw digitally but maintain some level of control; now I just need to work on retaining hand-eye coordination when doing comic art as opposed to realism. I trained myself and now I have to retrain myself. For the record, though, I was drawing this:

~grumbles~ Not porn. Character art from a story. Bah. My friends are assholes.

Moving on:

Caption Contest Winner

Wow, that caption contest kinda bombed, didn’t it? Not much participation. There were enough, though, to pick a winner; there were a few pretty funny ones in there (and man, Hikaru, you really wanted to win, didn’t you? Don’t I spend enough money on you already? Oh well, you’ve got a birthday coming up…), a few rather lame ones, and a few middle-grounders.

…okay, none of them were great, but out of the funny ones, the winner is Lala with “Hot legs, making your mark - Hot legs, keep my pencil sharp”. I’m sorry, but goofy Rod Stewart quotes are made of win (otherwise it wouldn’t be that funny - but c’mon, Rod Stewart?).

So Lala, shoot me an e-mail at adrien-luc.sanders@451press.net and tell me which e-mail address to send your Amazon gift card to.

I dunno if we’ll be doing a caption contest again. That was a last-ditch “oh crap, busy, need to update” thing. If we do, next time I’ll pick a better picture.

For now, though, I’m out. See you tomorrow with a regular post. I may even try reading the news, gasp.

Ciao,
-Adri

…for the record, the answer is “no”.

In the comments to Tuesday’s post, Mizuki highlighted a very good point: We, the gay community and our supporters, don’t have any real leader to follow. We don’t have a Martin Luther King, a Sojourner Truth, a Moses to lead us out of Egypt.

All right, that’s a little dramatic, but the point stands: we don’t have a single person to rally behind enough to give us faith, and regardless of your religious beliefs, faith in something is what drives you to get things done. Faith, motivation, a single unified message that says “We are one, we shall stand, we shall fight.” Instead we’re divided into a dozen, a thousand petty groups that squabble among each other just as much as we rail against the opposition; we can’t agree on anything, let alone which issue to tackle first. We’re too widespread, too preoccupied with other things, too many of us hidden, too many of us trapped in a feeling of helplessness. Martin Luther King could unify people across a nation. Who could do that for us?

Unfortunately, I can’t think of a single name off the bat. Some might say Barack Obama, as he is a charismatic bugger who tends to rally people to blindly support him - but while he might gather support in some areas, I don’t really see him as someone to lead on gay issues should he obtain the presidency. Same with Hillary, despite her pledges…and honestly, I can’t see myself following a call to action from any politician, unless they were so radically different that I actually felt that I could identify with them - and despite sharing a highly mixed heritage with Obama, I can’t identify with him. Don’t get me started on Hillary.

In the gay rights movement, I can’t even name anyone still living who’s made enough of an impact or any kind of significant contribution that I might even care who they are. A lot of that has to do with today’s social structure; if you aren’t a celebrity or a politician, people don’t pay attention to you and so few hear of your achievements no matter how major they may be. It’s a lot harder to lead a movement these days; people are too apathetic, too distracted by their cars, mortgages, and kids, too afraid to take a risk. Most would-be leaders - evangelists of the gay movement - give up before they even get very far, because trying to rally people to action is like trying to wade through sludge as thick as molten lead.

So enlighten me, since I admit that I’m somewhat sheltered and possibly just as apathetic. Is there someone you’d follow? Is there someone who could stand behind a podium and raise his or her voice to stir you to action and rouse your blood? If it came down to descending on Washington, gathering numbers greater than even the Million Man March:

Who would you follow in that march?

Why do I keep hearing the president’s speech from Independence Day in the back of my head?

…er. Remember that day I took off to play with my new Cintiq 12WX, only to spend the whole day troubleshooting it? Well, Wacom finally shipped me a new one and it works, so I’m pretty useless for anything else today. besidesit’smybirthdayandIhaveahorribletoothachesocutmesomeslack. So…er…go play with the captions contest, submit your entries, win an Amazon gift card. I’m gonna go futz with Manga Studio EX until the bloody thing recognizes the Cintiq drivers. ~flees~

Yesterday was just a little heavy, a little angry, and a little overwhelmingly bitter; so, as I so often like to do after I go off on a rampage, it’s time for something a bit lighter and sillier. I swore I’d never stoop to these levels, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and I still have about four hours of work left to do, so…

Your mission: Come up with a humorous, ironic, witty, or in some other way interesting caption for the above picture. Post it as a comment to this entry, or if you want, you can Photoshop it in and post a link to your image. It’s up to you. Either way works. You can come up with as many as you like, but only one can win.

The deadline: Monday, April 14th, 12a CST. That means the second the clock rolls over from Sunday to Monday in my time zone, the contest is over. I’ll pick the best caption and post the winner when I post Monday’s comic.

The reward: A $30 Amazon gift card (we’ll even use the e-cards so you don’t have to wait for it to arrive via postal mail or give me your address). That’s enough for you to order enough junk to even get their renowned (and horribly slow) free Super Saver shipping.

The catch: Er…there’s no catch, I think; I’m just pressed for time and not above doing stupid internet-typical things to find something to post about. At least it’s not lolcats. Although if you’re an international reader and you don’t have access to Amazon or $30 would barely even cover shipping for you, if you win we’ll talk about getting you a gift card to some other place that’s better suited to your locale.

The secret: …those are a man’s legs up there.

At least that’ll keep this a bit topical.

Hafta run!

Little did he know that his impression of Bettie Page would be the final horror that awakened Cthulhu.

I’m late posting today, again. Not because I was busy (although I was), or because the news is particularly uneventful; not even because the earth (or Wacom customer service) opened up and swallowed me whole into its gaping and fetid gullet.

I’m late because I’m damn tired of beating a dead horse and sounding like a broken record.

I’ve been thinking about this all morning, and realizing that it goes deeper than that; it’s not just me. I’m sick of listening to the very people that I want to fight for, the people I call my sisters and brothers in arms in the fight for gay rights. I’m sick of hearing (and saying) the same tired things over and over again with new names substituted in, the same story, the same tired old whinge. It’s all talk and very little action. I’m sick of listening to people beat the horse to death, only to spend hours more flaying the dead horse.

And then coming back to it again days later.

No wonder people don’t listen to us. No wonder people don’t take us seriously. We aren’t activists; we’re pretentious, self-entitled whiners, and it pisses me the hell off.

Talk will only get us so far when we’re too timid and afraid to do anything. Hold a parade, send a few angry letters now and then, then move back to our safe little lives, our PT cruisers and our nonfat lattes. Stay out of the line of fire. Look out for ourselves, and screw ourselves over in the process.

No.

Take a risk. Do something, no matter how small, to place yourself in the line of fire. Martin Luther King was a great speaker, a moving speaker, a man who could rouse people to action - because he was willing to take action himself, for the sake of his cause. He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t hide. We have no one like him, no single man or woman to rally behind. We’re too busy fighting among ourselves, then placating ourselves by screaming loudly now and then about how active we are in the gay community.

Words aren’t meant to be shouted just to be heard. Words are meant to carry a message. If you fight with words, fight with words that make people think. Fight with words that make people listen, rather than just complaining. Say something that means something, rather than just reciting the same old empty lines. Fight with words that matter.

And if you won’t rally behind someone else, rally behind yourself. Even if it’s a small thing, even if it’s being brave and standing up to someone who casts a slur on your life, your love, your very existence…do something. Something more than words. Something that will leave a lasting impact on someone, something that will make them stop and say, “They’re serious. They mean this; it matters to them, and this isn’t just some self-important parade.”

Don’t do it because you should. Do it because you want to; do it because you feel it from your gut. And if you don’t feel strongly enough about it to do anything, then don’t whine about it, either.

Put up or shut up. But let the goddamned horse rest in peace.

Now watch tomorrow I go back to rehasing the same old crap.

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Gasp! A comic with more than one panel!

No, no the Cintiq is not working yet. Yes, I am getting extremely pissed that they keep saying they’ll service the display, yes the display’s the problem, but hey, why don’t we send you a new VGA cable first even though we’re 100% sure the old one’s fine? Or you could, you know, walk to a school full of little children and say “Hi, I’m a strange adult male of unknown intentions, and I’d like to slip into one of your classrooms with all your impressionable young children to use one of your DVI-capable computers to test this thing?” Oh, we’ll fix the display eventually, maybe. Sort of. Only we say we will but then find a way around it. Say, you don’t mind paying to mail it back to us, do you?

Idiots. Wacom customer support needs to be strung up.

I’d say I have my vengeance in mocking them, but considering that I’m aping people that I’m likely distantly related to (you know, I could have written that in real Japanese; I just didn’t feel like it), I’m kind of mocking myself too. Some victory.

Speaking of customer support: in case you missed it, yesterday was the third Darkside Rainbow Live Webcast, in which I ranted about my former work as a CSR (something any of you who’ve ever done that can probably completely understand) and said things that would make Don Imus keel over from shock but that George Carlin would probably think were weak, tame, and bland as dishwater. Either way, I have officially forfeited my right to ever be offended by anything anyone says, ever again.

It’s all for the sake of humor, right?

Anyway, if you care to listen and lose all respect for me (whether from my blatant disregard for political correctness or because the faster I start talking, the more I sound like my balls never dropped), follow the link up there. There’s an MP3 version of the webcast, and a log of the chat conversation.

Seppuku is so trendy.

For replay of the webcast you can either listen below or download the full MP3 (including musical interludes) here. If you’re easily offended by racial insensitivity, do yourself a favor and don’t click this one.

[Audio player under the cut. Chat log below the audio player. It’s like leaving 3-year-olds alone for extended periods of time. With copious quantities of crack.]

DR Live Webcast, this Sunday, 5p CST. Hell, I almost forgot about it, let alone forgot to remind you guys. Speaking of not being politically correct…~eyes his notes and whistles~ …yyyyyeah. I’ll be offending someone, no doubt. Don Imus wouldn’t even touch this one.

Hi. This may be disjointed, because I’m tired as hell and ready to crawl off somewhere, curl up, and pass out (and I can’t, too much work to do). But I want to post today anyway, partially because I said I would, and partially because there’s something on my mind that’s been bothering me.

I’m a member of several online writers’ groups, mostly geared towards fantasy and science fiction. The groups discuss techniques, favorite authors, genre standards, and all sorts of other things related to writing, trying to get published, trying to find an agent, the whole hoobalah. They also critique each others’ stories; I say “they” because I don’t really participate. I’m a little shy after a bad experience with a rather tyrannical mod in the first group I ever joined (no, I don’t know anything about being a tyrannical mod, do I, Indikaze and Sihaya?). Sometimes I join in the discussion if I have anything to contribute, but otherwise I stay quiet and just listen. Sometimes I learn things. Sometimes I wonder what the hell they’re smoking. It’s always an interesting experience, despite the occasional inevitable online wank.

Yesterday, though, I stayed quiet on something that I wish I hadn’t kept my mouth shut on, even though it’s a small thing and really wasn’t even related to the topic of the discussion. It was related to how commonly accepted it is to loudly express disgust at any display of homosexual contact, and it came innocently enough; it probably doesn’t help that I don’t like the guy who posted it, since he’s a self-important twit who joins every discussion with a long diatribe about how his way of doing things is better than the established industry standard. He’s unique, he’s a groundbreaker, no one understands his genius, he’s a special twatwaffle of a snowflake who needs to be smacked upside the head with a frozen mackerel. I think, though, that I would have been a little bothered no matter who said it, my dislike of him notwithstanding.

The discussion involved how various writers describe fight scenes in novels, and how some of them have obviously never swung a punch in their lives or even observed combat to try to capture some sense of realism without overdetailing. The discussion moved on to things like wrestling (actual wrestling competitions, not WWF-style sensationalism) and how referees will often break grapple holds that might otherwise go on for hours in a traditional competition while the two competitors struggle to gain even a micron’s advantage. Hour-long grapple holds are boring, apparently, and the audience might leave. The comment made was that he (the poster that I don’t like) probably wouldn’t mind watching two people locked in a pornographic position for an hour at a time, but (caps emphasis his)…TWO GUYS? Ugh.

It made me twitch. I would understand if he just expressed something along the lines of a simplified version of “I’m straight so I’m not interested in watching two guys dry hump each others’ faces”; I’m gay, so I’m not interested in watching two women dry hump each others’ faces and can understand. It was the tone of disgust and rejection that just made me pause and want to say, “Does the idea of two men being that close bother you somehow? Because you know, some of us might take issue with that sentiment.” It’s his right to feel that way. It’s just bothersome that it’s so common to casually express that as if it’s normal to say such things, and no one should mind that he’s publicly displaying disgust towards homosexual preferences.

Why didn’t I say anything? Because again, it’s his right to feel that way, and if it comes down to a matter of free speech and a matter of defending my demographic, I’m almost always going to choose free speech as long as the things said aren’t actively causing harm beyond a slightly worked nerve. That and I never want to be one of those obnoxiously oversensitive people who jumps on everyone for the slightest hint of anti-gay sentiment, no matter how loosely implied (or even inferred, because who knows what the person may have intended to imply). There has to be a line drawn between encouraging acceptance and being a complete and total twat.

At the same time, it stuck with me because it’s a symptom of a larger problem: that it is so common to casually revile all things gay, right down to the dreaded “that’s so gay” derision. It’s ingrained in people as part of normal social speech, and it eats at me until I wish I had said something, anything, just to politely point out that while he may not have intended to be hateful, he could be a little bit more tactful and it would be greatly appreciated. Just one little thing to calmly make one person aware that no, even casual unconscious gay-bashing is not acceptable.

But I didn’t, because it’s such a small battle and so open to interpretation that it’s not worth it; within a day I’ll forget about it like I do every time I catch something like that in conversation. It rarely sticks with me and makes me think for this long. I may notice, but I’m not that sensitive - and these people don’t really affect my life so I care for maybe the few milliseconds it takes to really process what they said. If it’s said as a joke, I even laugh my ass off; I’m the last person to really care about political correctness, and when I know the person’s intent I can take just about anything they might say no matter how offensive. It’s when they’re serious that I have to grit my teeth and bite my tongue.

So I wonder what it will take to make me stop and speak up. How bad will it have to get before I lose either my sense of humor or my sense of perspective and say “Hey, man, that’s not cool”?

How do you decide when you should defend yourself and when you shouldn’t?

Were you expecting something about BDSM?