Really.

I swear to God I am a mostly cheerful person, really.

Fall.

The weather holds steady at roughly summertime conditions, but the television tells me that it must be Fall because there are new shows on. My current fave is The Vampire Diaries - for those of you out there who know your Vampire TV History it's like Dark Shadows meets the 3rd season of 90210. So, I'm not sure how anyone drilled into my mind and excavated my deepest hopes and dreams to put on the small screen, but there it is.

In general I don't have much to report, which is in itself distressing. Well, I don't have anything to report on my end. In my friends' lives there have been much, much change. Mostly babies. This is great for me as in general I like babies. There have been a few babies I have met over the years that were total assholes, but they tended to be the exception rather than the rule. I also know a few grown-up babies that are total assholes, but I am not sure that the assholage (pronounced to rhyme with "collage") started when they were infants or as an infantile response to ongoing outside adult stimuli.

I suppose the biggest thing I miss about my East Coast Life is the Fall and the de rigeur falling leaves. This is not an unusual or unique thing; most East Coasters miss seasons that are signified by actual events of nature as opposed to only the seasonal holiday decorations available at the Rite Aid on the corner of Franklin and Western. LA for all of its myriad pleasures tends to seem a bit rick-rack at this time of year, but as someone who spent every winter overlooking a field of snow falling dark at 4pm and wishing it was summer, I'm keeping it in perspective. In a month or two, we Angelenos will be wearing our inappropriately chunky sweaters and scarves, feeling genuinely cold as our blood is thinner than most from months of heat. I'll watch with a combination of amusement, indignation and fear as LA drivers continue to drive 85mph on the 101 even thought it's the kind of January downpour that I know from childhood experience you shouldn't be driving in that way. Snow seems charming to me now, for I have mostly forgotten how it feels in my shoes.

The only thing that happens in LA that parallels the fall of the Autumn leaves back East is how friendship works here. For the most part I have observed that to every season there is indeed a turn. As someone who relishes friendships that unfold over decades, it's something I find distasteful. It might have something to do with the sunshine and lack of natural seasons, I think. Instead of leaves falling from a tree, people seem to shed the friends they no longer need. When you grow up somewhere with a history of Cold Weather, people seem to at least understand being in it for the Long Haul. Something about buckling down and waiting for the sun to come back out seems to do something to the psyche. Babies fall into that as well - in the back of my mind my friends' children that have been born in the fall need a pile of dried apples for the winter or something. But the lack of Winter seems to have done something to people here, or perhaps more specifically, has *not* done something to people here. If you don't have a primal need for community to survive, you tend to throw people away with less thought. It also seems to be related to whether or not your parents divorced, but my data on that is too inconclusive at this point. My parents are still married. It seems to have been what they wanted.

We are lurching through an economic Autumn, this much is sure. Our little wagon train plods along, hoping that there will be a clean stream or brook over the next rise before we have to tell our traveling companions that we really need the water. It may come to that, but I don't think it will. But you will find out who your friends are in that situation, which means that it's a valuable experience. In ye olden days (really olden), betrayal was a dramatic word I would threw around with abandon through gritted teeth as I loudly plotted revenge while pushing my hair back with great purposefulness. Next, I would order a pizza. Then I would nap. Imagine a sort of a slightly older Butters from South Park with a Preppy-Goth thing going on. And an ongoing acne problem and an over-reliance on carbs. Nowadays I skip the plotting and just head for the pizza. I'm no longer crazy enough to actually put any plots in motion, as it requires work and I'm VERY busy watching the new shows. I suppose one of parts of getting older is the realization you were never "betrayed" if someone was an asshole to begin with. Accepting your own poor judgment sucks. Uch.

So as a leaf drifting down slowly from the tree turning all the while (les sanglots longs des violons...), I think I can see things that I didn't see before. Nothing that unusual or dramatic, just a different perspective. Happens to everyone.

Sucks.

In the meantime, I am going now to see a brand new baby that a friend of two decades has just finished manufacturing with her wonderful husband and friend of mine, so that's very exciting. I don't have any dried apples for her, but she'll get whatever else her little heart desires. As a child of Spring (and you don't get anymore "Spring" than my b-day) I'm only following my nature.

Where is the Romance?

I'm never going to tumble down artistically in the heather at this rate. Graphic tees do not a substitute for a waistcoat make.

If I'm so wonderful... why am I single?

OK.

Again, apologies for being away for so long, if you even care.

So here's the deal: If I'm so fucking wonderful, why am I single?

This is not a new cry to go up across the land. Many others before me have hit their 30s and begun to look at the ashtray-left-out-in-the-rain of their respective lives and wonder if that's all there is. This is what happens when the party of "first youth" is over. I think our/my generation has a much better handle on aging and death than our parents' ever did. They listened to the Shirelles and Led Zeppelin; we listened to The Cure, The Smiths and, well, Led Zeppelin. In our generational case, the first two aforementioned acts made us feel all comfy and cozy in the concepts of isolation, unrequited love to the point of pointlessness, and bad accessories. The bad accessories are important. It's part of being an adolescent I suppose. Going into any mall and any Hot Topic is proof of this. Is Hot Topic even around anymore?

As our generation ages, we are doing things like "growing up" and getting married and having "children" and all that. Well, I'm not, and I suppose that's the point of this electronic ramble. Growing up carries with it the connotation of settling down, and if I am not doing that, am I growing up? Is being settled down with someone else a prerequisite for being considered "on my own"? Some of the people I know who are married and have children shouldn't be allowed out of the house let alone reproduce, so why do they get to do it? Nothing makes sense. Maybe it doesn't have to. This makes me insane, the lack of meaning. I like movies and stories because things are structured and have significance. Even pieces that are about the meaninglessness of life have that meaning built into them. Actual meaninglessness is a tough thing to face. Think of Circus of the Stars and how dead you felt inside when you watched it. Scary, right?

So, In fact, the Wet Ashtray just might be all there is. What are you going to do about it? Cry? Everything's already wet. Wasted effort. Why do the work again? The Party of Life ends. It's just a matter of making sure you are sitting in the corner with the good drag queens while you are at the party. No one wants to be in the corner with the bad drag queens. Especially in the morning. As the dawn creeps its way over sundry warehouse roofs and slides insistently into your hungover brain, you can see the glue on the false eyelashes. Not pretty. You slink out the door to your tiny tiled home, telling yourself you had a wild time and hope the train comes quick. At least that was how it was in New York.

Now, don't get all concerned about me or upset. I will learn to celebrate my abandonment by Life. That's the key difference: by Life not of Life. I will embrace being kicked off the kaboose of meaningful existence. Perhaps I will take to reading all those "Left Behind" books or watching those movies the Krazy Kirk Cameron has made from said books. I mean, since they are supposedly Christian novels, there has to be scads of Gay people - most likely all Gay people - left wandering about the world with a slightly stunned expression. Glittery Cowboy Hats a bit crumpled, KD Lang tees torn. No break on the cover charge at the club though.

What will I do with all my free time? I know I have been sorely remiss in doing any reading that doesn't have to do with work, so that might be a way to fill the time. Or getting back to writing more! Like I am doing now. I can use the time to work on my career. Or pick up a new hobby like knitting, collecting stamps or cutting myself.

The possibilities are endless. Truly. Endless.

Why some people don't like "Gay" marriage. Or, an Affliction of Perception. Sedgwick dies and this is what I think about.

Here's the thing - they aren't going to ever go for this. Like, ever. You know who I'm talking about.

You know why? Gay people aren't *people* to them. I can only listen so long to so much love-the-sinner-hate-the-sin claptrap before the creepy realization that for a large portion of this great nation, Gay people have as much humanity as, say, a small dog. It's a realization that washes over me like a wave of artificially-sweetened frosting. Gross. That's not to say Americans don't love their dogs. But they aren't allowed to vote, and certainly aren't allowed to marry. And their owners are in charge of their mating adventures, if they can help it. And if your dog gets uppity and wants too much or acts up, you swat it down with a paper until it behaves. The gay-marriage "debate" would be a great example of totally out-there, completely unapologetic and systemic discrimination. A group of people has determined amongst themselves that another group of people are inferior, and therefore do not deserve the same rights as everyone else. Mostly because they have the temerity to attempt to be happy in a society that spends a lot of energy trying to erase them from sight, or at least break them down. This is why I find the arguments that posit Gay people being more visible on television means that things are better not to hold much water for very long. Although it is no longer permissible everywhere to make snarky comments about Gay people, it still rampant and largely tolerated. I still think violence against gay people is wildly under-reported.

As much as this sort of placing Gay people in a category of "less-than" is odious, there is another kind of humanity-reduction out there that is far more insidious, since usually the perpetrator is totally unaware of taking part in it at all.

I've been harping about this for a long time - Betty Ann and I have had a long-running joke about how well-meaning folks try to set up gay people on dates in a manner not too dissimilar from puppy mill dog-breeding, i.e. "I know you say you don't want to be set up with this random stranger you have absolutely nothing in common with other than your sexuality, but let's put you two together on the pee-pee pad and see what happens!" The Road to Hell is most certainly paved with good intentions. Invariably there is an uncomfortable coffee date that both parties try to make the best of and then eject out of ASAP. This will then lead to the uncomfortable email back-and-forth with aforementioned matchmaker the following Monday morning, if not later the very night of the Uncomfortable Coffee Situation (UCS) if blackberries can be involved, in which all kinds of annoying questions are posed. There are only so many times one can say "He wore a polo shirt two sizes too small with the collar-popped, talked for twenty minutes about how he doesn't eat dairy or wheat anymore, is as dumb as a Box of Rocks, AND DO YOU REALLY HOLD ME IN SUCH LOW REGARD???" before you just say "It just wasn't a good fit, but he's super nice." Over and over. And over. And over. So this would be an example of people erring to far on the other side of the Gay Marriage debate, but still coming from the "Gay People are Small Pets" place.

I know most of the people I know don't suffer from this affliction of perception, but some do. The Gay "community" is a unique one in that it is trans-ethnic, that is to say a bunch of people who identify (and are identified culturally) as being part of disparate ethnic groups all have one thing in common - their sexual proclivities. Or, supposedly have this is common because this is what is said to them. Over and over again. In one fell swoop, when one decides to come out of the closet, an interesting process takes place: all other sociological identifiers and categories are superseded by the category of "Gay". Suddenly you are not just a Black woman from Detroit, you are a Lesbian, who is Black and from Detroit. You are no longer a ranch hand, you are a "Gay Cowboy". In other words, everyone is trapped into being One or the Other. When a person moves publicly to have a partner, romantic or sexual or both, of the same biological gender, a statement is made into the larger world that changes perception of that person. As same-sex desires are still considered other/different by the dominant culture, there is no way that any coupling in that category can be anything but a sore-thumb. You stick out. I think well-meaning Not-Gay people can do a disservice to their Gay friends by constantly making a big deal about how OK they are with Gayness. What they need to be OK with is telling another straight person off when they say something stupid.

On a side note, and I'm going to stop now since I'm tired, I'd like to know when the Latino and African American communities are going to realize they are being totally used and manipulated for their voting power, and that people who are against Gay marriage still think of them as second class (if that) citizens. If it does happen, it's going to be an interesting moment.

Atlas Snugged.

I am nowhere close to being original with any sort commentary on the current cultural hoo-ha that is The Snuggie. For those of you without a television, the Snuggie is a fleece blanket with sleeves. So you can stick your arms through them and grasp your remote whilst not having to move your delicate arm out from under the cozy warmth of fibers spun from recycled Mountain Dew bottles (that's what fleece is made of essentially). We did not know this remote situation was a problem until very recently. We now know we can grab the remote while remaining under the backwards bathrobe we call Snuggie because the commercial shows us this very act. And we can now also go to football games dressed like brightly colored extras from the temple scene in Conan the Destroyer. And presumably some sort of fetish community is already clustering around the Snuggie. "Let's Snug" and "I'm a Snugger" tee shirts are coming, I'm sure.

What does the Snuggie mean/signify? Is it just another artifact of current consumer culture, i.e. something we really don't need and is really just a tweaked version of something we already have, or is it something else entirely? I think It's both. As far as I can tell the Snuggie is a cross between a tatty fleece blanket from Ikea and a hospital gown. So someone got the idea for this thing when they were in the hospital for a colonoscopy or some such. That's my guess. Someplace cold. With cold floors as they trudged down to where ever the procedure was to be done. Most likely in a town where there is a lot of tailgating, if the commercials are to be believed. So, Minnesota. Could it be true that a descendant of the Vikings, of the people of Odin, the people of Mjolnir and Valhalla, has given us a blankie-as-symbol of a particular brand of American Depression? A depression both emotional and economic? These things are tied and twisted together now in the national unconscious. I have no proof that a Viking is responsible for the Snuggie.

When you have been laid off you have to keep the heat down to preserve what savings you have. Here comes the Snuggie! For those of you who are as nuts as I am about Science Fiction, I recommend the "Beggars in Spain" trilogy by Nancy Kress; especially the final book. That's an aside. If you read it, I think you will see the connection. Kress follows a line of logic that eventually American society will have to simply support an immense amount of people that are not able to work, simply because the economy can not provide enough employment because there are far too many people. In other words, most of the population lives in indolence, trying to convince themselves that that's cool. Predictably, massive class distinctions emerge almost immediately. It's not as Ayn Rand as it sounds, but it is, a little. The Snuggie will become the symbol of the current cultural landscape - we no longer feel safe, we long to retreat under a blanket spun from our own landfill surplus that shows us that we are both frugal and responsible, after years of taking out loans for a down payment on a house, a practice unheard of until recently.

We're in it for the long haul, people. And we are marching through this shrunken landscape with our Snuggies on, but presumably with our backsides still exposed.

By the way, I totally want one.

This is a nice day.

This also makes me wonder if we have finally gotten to the point in our nation's culture where being African-American is just another ethnic identity in our lovely melting pot, as opposed to a ongoing reminder of how our Nation repeatedly (and so terribly) stumbled in the past.