Breathe in breathe out.
Om mani padme sum.
I am He. I am He. Blessed Spirit I am He. No birth ,no death ,caste have I, father mother have I none, I am He. I am he. »
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
The psychoanalysis was different. I spoke with Dr. White, the Christian psychiatrist and we talked over 6 months when he was my mentor.
« I didn’t find it helped much. My colleague found it exciting. But then there’s always something exciting in confessional for the listener. A kind of voyeurism. But counselors like this. With little training. Hearing people speak of their inner secrets. But I didn’t have any secrecy’s. I share everything with Jesus. I have a wife and church and pastor and Christian friends. We talk openly among one another. We really are a community of God. I know people talk of that. But I found it. I’d recommend you do too. I’ve heard you talk about your church and you seem to accept a kind of anemic Christianity. There’s much more. Not for all but for some. I guess that’s why psychoanalysis didn’t amount to much for me. I still think he got more out of it. But then we were more interested in technique back then. »
At times the shame was overwhelming. Shame separates one from others, from God. They say shame means ‘you’re no good’ but that guilt is’ I did something that was no good.’ It’s really nit picking. In the tribe hundreds of thousands of years ago you did something wrong and you were told it was wrong. Any deviation from what was done was wrong. People lived by repetition of right behaviour. Don’t eat the red plant. Eat the green one.
I loved reading « The World Until Yesterday; What We Can Learn from Traditional Societies. » by Jared Diamond. His first book Guns, Germ’s and Steel had been such a watershed book for me helping me understand the Polynesian people I was working with at the time. Traditional Societies weren’t the myth of Hollywood and liberal politicians. The Horror. The Horror. That famous line from Joseph’s Conrad’s Heart of Darkness would come to mind. Everyone and everything was taboo. The stranger was shunned and killed because that’s how people survived, safely, in the familiar.
« Freud was afraid of the unconscious. I thought it a much more reliable and trustworthy thing. When I fell my body would automatically attempt to save me. Freud was an intellectual in that rationalist tradition that lead to so many hundreds of thousands of men killing themselves in trench warfare WW1. «
I was in Phoenix at an Ericksonian Foundation conference for the second time. I was learning hypnosis from the man who did hypnosis for heart and lung surgery.
« Some people are allergic to anaesthetics. That’s when I come in. In the old days everyone had surgery and was just held down by their friends and family. Now they call me. I induce a trance. It’s often days of training and preparation. Then the person is distracted really. That’s what so much of hypnosis is, distraction. They’re focussed here and the pain is over there. It works extremely well for acute surgery, brief periods. The dentists have caught on and like it. Of course locals and blocks work just as well. There’s the control factor to. The more you use drugs and procedures the more you rely on power. Erickson liked to let things grow, trusting the process. Describing how plants didn’t need to be told. He believed that life was an inherent pattern in a person. He thought Freud was afraid of the unconscious. He didn’t like children much either. I like children. There’s that feminine and masculine aspect of nature. Jung talked of this, anima and animus. We all begin as female and some of us transform into men biologically. »
I’d love reading Jung and how he saw Freud as frightened of the unconscious and needing control. Jung was more interested in the mapping the unconscious. Freud was satisfied with his seeing that there was the Superego, Ego and Id. Later Erik Erickson, not Milton, would call these the Parent, Adult and Child. Jung expanded this map as it were to the Shadow and Face. Then the animus (masculine) and anima (feminine). He’d go on to study the archetypes and the « collective unconscious » those spiritual moments of ‘synchronicity’ and that sense of wonder. HE was the son of a minister and his psychology spanned the whole of the myth and theology of the Europe of his day. Freud by contrast seemed to be presenting an idea of the universe straight out of the Jewish history, limited to that, but with God removed. They both were so interested in science and all the learning of the day. Freud would write about anthropology.
Ivan Illich, the great French philosopher would write a book called Gender where he’d trace the domains of dominance by male or female of all aspects of life to the gender designation given them in language. Le Auto meant that the ‘man’ had principal responsibility for this machine but ‘la maison’ designated this as principally the ‘mother or wife’s domain’
So much of the richness of existence and the sacred was lost to the bulldozing stupidity of Cultural Marxism, that Frankfurt school of intellectual nonsense that reduced everything to binary. Marxism could be summed up as ‘rich and poor’, ‘bourgeoisie and proletariat’ and the rich oppress the poor. The exact same reasoning of the paranoid schizophrenic. There’s ‘them and me’ and I’m their ‘victim’. A very effective revolutionary design that served as the basis of aetheist war and murder of hundreds of millions of men women and children in a mere hundred years or more. No other religion had such a killing history. Yet sadly Jews especially and all others refuse to let go of one of their own. As if Jewish intellectuals are a Navy Seal platoon of the mind that must keep bringing their fallen colleague back.
My famous colleague, a Jewish psychiatrist who survived Auschwitz would say with disdain, « Feminism is one of the maggots crawling of the dead body of Marx and Freud. »
« A little girls religion, » she’d say. She was friends of Gloria Steinem and said her personal life was a train wreck. « So many of the academics write and sound good until you know them up close. ».
I’d meet the woman who lived beside my favourite gonzo journalist, Hunter S. Thompson.
« He kept peacocks. Try sleeping when your neighbour has these bloody peacocks that wake at dawn and make all manner of racket. He’d be passed out after shooting his guns off in the early morning. The peacocks would shit everywhere. You know goose shit but peacock’s are a whole lot bigger. So the shits that’s much more. Worst neighbour I ever had. All his neighbours hated him. Mostly the peacocks and the gun noinse in the middle of the night. Otherwise he was fine. The peacocks were impossible. »
I cycle back to that night. Over and over again. Trauma does that. This is trauma. Betrayal for sure. Sexual so more subtle and worse in some ways than the blatant loss of a limb. Sexual matters are like worms that burrow under the skin. I suppose the loss of the limb is worse but the shame may be less. It’s hard to compare. I’ve not lost a limb but I have experienced what would be called rape. I agreed at first then changed my mind only to be held down and penetrated. A rapist might get off on the technicality. I’ve heard a lot of men describe that as ‘normal’.
Indeed the sophisticated sexual older women of my youth would say ‘no’ as I penetrated them and this ‘pseudo rape’ fantasy loomed large.
I stopped and she said, ‘don’t stop. Don’t stop’....
« But you said’ no’ .
« Ignore me’. »
« Just continue. Pound me. Pound me. I want you to fuck me. »
« But you said ‘no’. »
« I didn’t mean it. .. Do you want a discussion or do you want to get fucked. »
I wanted to fuck but I almost couldn’t because she’d said ‘get fucked’ . I found myself thinking about syntax and construction. Was she fucking me or I was I fucking her?
She was a few years older and had come on to me inviting me into the wealth and elegance she had. She was certainly more established. She told me this was just sex. She didn’t want a relationship but wanted to fuck. Then she’d said ‘no’ and ‘yes’. I didn’t go back after a while. She was confusing. I was young and sex was always available but in bursts with dry periods in between. Seasonal. With flurries. Women always told me they found me attractive. They only got angry when I refused them or left. Then they’d be venomous. I loved Zorba the Greek. The « complete catastrophe’ he called it. « Never say no to a woman. »
But I was wondering if I was gay. I had been that night. I’d had no food. I was hungry. Never go out hungry if you can avoid it. I was without transportation. Boys don’t hear always have money to get a taxi home.The guys in the band had the car. They weren’t leaving. They were conspiring. There was champagne and caviar. An exotic spread in an elegant penthouse. I loved the warmth and ambience. All the older guys. I was the youngest. I was a poet. I believed in diversity and learning. I didn’t want to. I said no over and over again.
« I like girls’. I don’t want to. I’ve never been interested. ».
« Okay, but just come. You don’t have to do anything. He just said he liked young boys and would make the record if we brought young boys. He didn’t say you’d have to fuck. We said, we’d see. »
That was the conversation in the car. When Lonny took the gun from the glove compartment and slipped it into his pants. Meaningfully. Manly. He did that when we went to a party. Part of his schtick. Having the pistol and showing us he had the pistol.
We went up the elevator.
There were others there. Mostly the old guy though. HE was very attentive. « More champagne’. « Another jay ».
I drank and smoked. And watched the movie he put on.
It was everything I’d never seen. I sat on the couch completely stoned. Everyone said how powerful the dope was. Really good stuff. And the wine was so sweet. Bubbles. Went to my head. And I saw there watching gorgeous men and naked women and orgies of men and women then the pictures would change to just women, all so beautiful, all mingling like a kaleidoscope of Kama sutra, then just men, and animals and children and I just sat and watched. Stoned. And frozen. I was paralyzed and My brain a wet noodle. I felt so good.
I looked down at my lap. The old guy was down on his knees between my thighs was sucking my cock. I don’t remember him unzipping my fly. I don’t remember how long he’d been sucking my cock. All the band and the other men were standing by watch, sipping drinks, tasting jouer douerves. It felt good then. He was taking my hand and walking me to the bed room. I was watching this happen to me.
He gave me a Playboy and I stared at a centre fold as he undressed us. Then we were naked and his hands were all over me as were his lips. Then he guided me into him but I kept going soft.
« Look at the Playboy » he’d say and I’d look at the Playboy centrefold on the pillow by his head. I’d stay hard then and finish. He’d clean me up and dress me. Then before I left I’d watch Lonny pulling out a contract and getting his signature. Lonny had been watching too. I thought that creepy. My ‘friend’ was laughing and smiling.
« You took one for the team. Good on you. » He said, like we were in school and I’d held up the end.
« I wasn’t going to do it. I never could but you did. » he said and I hated him. I knew I hated him. T.s. Elliott.s Hollow Men.
A while later an older friend at the university invited me to a faculty party her professor was throwing. I was the youngest there too. Just out of high school. My friend was from Vincent Massey a year or two ahead of me and now studying poli sci and English.
There were all these papers and every where bottles of wine. A guy came in with two green garbage bags of marijuana and dumped them on newspapers laid out in the centre of the room. Rolling papers were thrown around. My friend met another man and they began to kiss. I sat down with a glass of wine. She went up stairs with him . A while later she came down. I was drinking more wine and just chain smoking dope. I was in heaven. Never had I seen so much dope. I was l’église and everyone was happy. I was drinking wine and smoking dope watching couples kiss then go up stairs.
The professor had done it with students and his wife had done it with students. Old people, young people. Then she took my hand. It was so soft. Her face was so round and close. Her voice sounded miles away. The music was floating through the air like staffs. I was seeing it. I followed her up the stairs. She showed me the babies in the crib in another the room. The professors and his wife’s.
But then she took me into the extra bedroom. The bed was big and soft with huge mirrors on the ceilings and walls. I saw she had trouble getting my jeans off. I couldn’t seem to help. I was in that drooling staring catatonic dope state. She’d walked out of her own clothes like they were designed for rapid exit. She was naked before me stroking me and untangling my jeans from my stocking feet. She pushed me back onto the bed and straddled me. I supposed I consented. I could say I was raped. No clothes so no deep pockets. No fowl. No thoughts like those in those days. Today a new game of rape history for profit.
I hadn’t hada volitional thought. I was like Garp. She was probably merciful. Practicing charity. I was in the flow A silly dope grin on my face. My mind a loose noodle. My erection a mind of it’s own. The only place with blood I was all vegetable. She’d hardly mounted me when I came. Not quite premature ejaculation, at best a peri-mature. coming. She was upset. I was supposed to wait. But I wasn’t home. He had a mind of his home but she rolled her eyes at me. She brusquely dressed me like a child.
She walked me quickly down the stairs and left me by my pile of marijuana and poured me another glass of wine, immediately taking the next man upstairs. He looked as blotti as me. I rolled another joint, had another glass of wine and wonder if that had just happened. There’d been so many going up and down the stairs before the night was through. I thought she was wonderful. I felt wonderful. I almost took off my clothes in the living room but somehow stopped myself that time. Taking off my clothes seemed to take up a lot of thought and time. Eventually she came for me and put my parka on. We went out in the cold. She never asked me out again. I know it wasn’t anything I said because I didn’t speak.
I was passive. Passive was great. Over the years I’d move all over the passive active spectrum. I felt I had to be active. The more active the better.m Married for years , years later ,I’d get kinks in my neck spending my life between her legs licking an eternity as she said that’s the only way she could orgasm.
« I don’t orgasm with intercourse, » , ‘she said. She seemed to. Come to think of it she always had a contented smile on her face. After I divorced I suspected her of lying. She didn’t reciprocate. « Good girls don’t like that. »
Reciprocation became a theme with money and sex when I was a marriage and sex therapist..
I would sit for hours and and years and listen to couples dicker ant trade. Then the courts would talk about money like they’d talked about sex. Everyone wanted to be served but no one wanted to serve.
« He just fucks me. Never once asked what I wanted. Just fucks me. I take care of myself. I never had an orgasm till my girlfriend introduced me to her vibrator. Never had one with him even after. I just lay back. You know that mothers told their daughters to ‘lie back and think of England’. I don’t think of England but I just think of other things.
« So here’s the joke, doctor. « a patient told me »What’s the difference between a mistress, a prostitute and a house wife.?’
« What? I humoured him. I was seeing so many men for sexual abuse. All these macho men, leaders in society, doctors, chiefs, colonels. Coaches. First it had been the residential schools Then it had been word of mouth. You should talk to Dr. Hay about that. The newspapers made it something men could talk about. I loved the psychologists who had begun the BC Society for Sexually Abused Men. I talked to them in early days met the doctor who’d been 20 years with a male lover and 20 years with a female lover. « I love the person not the genitals’.he told me.
« What? ». He was laughing. Sexual jokes were manly.
« The prostitute says, are you finished yet. »
‘The mistress says ‘more, Cherie, more’
‘The housewife says ‘beige, I think I’ll paint the ceiling beige.’
He was one of hundreds of good men who married in good faith and their wives decided they didn’t want sex anymore. Not after the kids. A myriad of excuses. They were good church women. Upstanding citizens. Withholding bitches. Cunning conniving insensitive takers. Stupid cows. Controlling. There were a thousand words that had come down through the ages to describe the situation. Always she said, he said. But in the end if the man slept outside of the house then he lost the house and he children. The women came in too and told me of lovers who were gardeners and how they were having sex with the father or brother or best friend. All I heard especially when I worked with the country. I was a psychiatrist and I flew from town to town and worked in a variety of cities and different countries. But every person was telling me a sexual story of horrible sadness.
« My other doctors didn’t ask if there was anything that was bothering me, My psychiatrist says he’s just there to give me pills. He didn’t discuss sex or marriage and especially didn’t want to hear about affairs.
« He brings home men from the office to use me. Says he likes to watch. »
« If I don’t sleep with the men he doesn’t sell another car. I like it really. They say women don’t like that sort of thing but I do. I’ve always had a healthy sexual appetite. I don’t think my husband could fulfill it alone . This works. He likes money more and I make him a lot of money. »
« He was my pimp and the father of my children. »
‘The judge told me about her love of sex and role play.’
« She was a Wiccan ,’ she said. She described the orgy with the other naked white witch women and the happy young man.
« He was in his twenties and we asked him if he’d help us in our ceremony. Nothing painful. No one would be hurt. There were six of us. That’s the number you know. We all had a go with him. He was a really healthy boy. »
« My husband doesn’t care what I do as long as he’s got his football games.’
« If married women had sex with their husbands there would be no prostitution. Almost all my customers are upstanding men who are married, bringing home the bacon and doing their part but married to these cold bitches who simply don’t care for them. I service them and they think of me like they think of the garbage man. I fulfill my role. The women here know what goes on . They’re not stupid. A lot of women just see their husbands as dirty little boys they use. »
« I dont know if I’m gay, I told the psychiatrist. I’ve never looked at another man and been interested in him. I’ve never dreamt of sex with a man. I’ve sometimes thought back to that older guy and his friend who fuckd me. It wasn’t pleasant. I was hungry. I wanted dope. It was only a couple of times. I never went back. I met Nancy after that and one girl lead to another. I loved sex with women. I masturbated to images of sex with women. I wanted women . I loved women. But they say if even you have one time with a man it’s just a matter of time. You’re either / or. »
« Thats’ not true,’ he said. He discussed the spectrum. « You’re definitely heterosexual. My gay patients never think of women. Some men switch like women. I ‘m seeing a woman now whose husband died after 35 years and three children. She has an older lady friend and they’ve become intimate. She doesn’t know what to make of it. But it’s easier for them because no one thinks of two older women living together. Not that a lot of them aren’t lesbian but that’s what they think of men living together. Especially young men. »
I thought a lot about this. Everything was a default pattern to the sex I knew married. Married sex in a loving relationship with a woman was unsurpassed in my experience. I’d known years and decades of it. The hierarchy rancher than binary.
There are many reasons for breaking up. She lost interest in sex. I found that that was what did me in. She just stopped having sex. She might have been having an affair and she said she was always tired. She turned away. She said no. I was rejected another million times by women and now it was my wife. I kept thinking of that study that showed men had been told ‘no’ a thousand times to women being told ‘once’ and how rejection saddened men in the dating world but made women angry. The psychologist out of California who did the sexual research said, « Feminism is dead. Women simply cannot shoulder the burden of sex that men do. So the species simply can’t perpetrate with women being in charge. They simply won’t take the risk of rejection and want everything their way in the bed room. »
« Did you hear the joke about the two girlfriends at the woman’s sexual palace,’ she said.
« No. »
Freud said jokes were veiled hostility but he wasn’t a very funny man and quite insecure according to his colleagues. He did accept that humor was a as mature a ‘defence’ or ‘coping strategy’ as ‘altruism’ . His daughter, The brilliant child psychiatrist would go on to write about lines of development. Some of the early group who worshipped Freud still speculated about what his developmental disorders were.
« Sometimes the paranoids are right’, he’d say fleeing the Nazi’s. He’d get cancer from smoking his cigar. Horrible mouth and throat cancer. Surgery and pain. The later somatic psychiatrists would speak of Anger and Organ susceptibility. Those were the years when breast feeding and bottles were an issue. Then there was Abraham who said depression was anger turned inward. The somatic doctors considered much of chronic illness repressed anger . That certainly jived with a lot of stress research.
« The women are dying of breast cancer because the men aren’t fondling them. The men are dying of prostate cancer because their wives aren’t havening sex with them. » He and his wife were both psychologists and they taught ‘energy flow’.
The facts scientifically were that much of prostate cancer was the same as cervical cancer. Herpes Simplex II STD virus and too many sexual partners. His argument though was for much more sex with just one partner. They were very much monogamomay proponents.
So many patients told me of their involvement with the Polyamory Society. This was different from the ‘swinger set’.
By this time I’d seen dozens of transexual assisting them in their process getting tremendous support when I kept them going forward towards surgery and then getting tremendous backlash and stigmatisation when I pointed them the other way to the door. There was so many politicals in medicine by then. Competing factions. The drug company celebrated the ‘influencer’ and ‘leaders’ who got the most drug sales. No clear association with correct diagnosis or the increasingly criticized ‘morbidity and mortality’ concepts. The College bureaucrats suggested a paradigm more like Walmart .
« Doctors are the service personnel. ». « Remember the customer is always right.’
« Your job is to move product. »
I was castigated when I wouldn’t agree with a child having a sex change. I was all for adults having freedom of choice, that modern technology gave us many options. Luddites continued to criticize everything but cherry picked the clean water and efficient transportation. I wore a dress then. I liked going to church in high heels with red painted nails. We were all part of a society where women dressed as men and men dressed as women and we went out for dinner. I felt so vulnerable in heels, so unable to run. I couldn’t understand how women had ever allowed men to take away their right to carry a purse gun. I wore this skirt and had these thin little panties and only thought about being available for sex with my butt pushed out by my heels.
We talked about this. « « In my lumberjack shirt and jeans and boots I want to swing an axe and mount a woman....the clothes are so defining ».
« Ive said it for years women are transvestites in modern society and men are the ones who are restrained. The man’s suit jacket was developed by the British army as part of their uniform in the 18 hundreds. I’m dressed for daily war and you’re dressed for love making. It’s so unfair.’
We all laughed over dinner and talked of sex changes and hormones. Many of the wives were there. We played games like seeing who won the fashion contest shopping at Thrift stores without spending more than $20. I was a wreck.
« You have to come out, » he said. He was my priest and I shared with him my confusion and frustration.
« What’s more coming out than wearing a dress, make up and high heels. »
« But you’re gay. «
« I like women. »
‘But gay includes that. It’s us and them. They believe in this one heterosexual myth. Strictly binary. ».
If that’s the definition then I’m gay but I don’t think that’s very scientific. Political, maybe but not at all scientific. I liked Dr. Bea’s work out of Berkeley. She has men who’d rather die than switch and the women who were the same and that opportunistic middle group which went with the flow. I’m there. I won’t die to be straight or gay. I remember my Christian friend liking that there were other men like him who’d die rather than let anything touch their behinds. What really angered him was when I told him that there were an equal percentage of gay men and gay women who felt the same towards heterosexuality.
« It’s sexual addiction. » he said. What did God want? That seemed pretty straight forward when it came to procreation but the relational part of sex was not so clear. There was a very good evolutionary argument that sex was fun far before it was functional. Monkeys don’t associate sex with procreation and many not have figured that out till animal husbandry days. But men and women have been doing it since the beginning as well as looking for love in all the wrong places. But we tend to judge others who sin differently than ourselves.
The monk Ispent time with rejected all attachment. The Stoics did the same but my philosopher professor friend was an epicurean. We debated the Greeks once again.
I thought my body didn’t care whose lips were on my penis, male or female, but my mind felt differently.
That’s when I considered all the men and women I’d seen at work who had been into bestiality. That through another log into the fires of the long discussions of ethics, morality and psychiatry. As primitive even barbaric cultures move into the scientific modern age almost yanked out of ancient centuries they are trying as hard to pull us back into the dark ages. It is alright to fuck a goat but only if the goat consents.
« Doctors shouldn’t talk about sex with their patients especially male doctors with female patients. If they insist there may be a reason but it’s best then to refer the patient to the same sex doctor primarily someone who is trained only to deal with sex. It doesn’t matter that there is no such person. It doesn’t matter if the wait list are years. You just must act like a doctor. Nothing is real. You just act like you care. Like I act like I care. The jaded didn’t know they were jaded, »
A speciality in sexual medicine might be a consideration. « But it’s better not to ask questions about sex. ». No one does anymore and the children are again sexually abused and the darkness descend because the elite don’t care. The kill by neglect, murder by covert aggression. And lies
He was a pompous fool who brought in sharia trained people to teach the students the proper medical exams . He worked for pharmaceutical companies and governments who had been caught covering up corruption so thick that the stink reeked throughout the valley. He was impervious to change. Superior in a way that made a human chuckle. He knew nothing about psychiatry and even less about sex. The money laundering was all he cared about the billions and billions of dirty money and dirty people. He was such a disgusting dirty little boy. Leonard Cohen said he’d be the KY Jelly.
« Women don’t lie about sex’ his colleague said with a straight face on another occasion. Her divorce from another physician and her sexual perversity was common knowledge. A train wreck but always wearing white cotton panties. The look in her eyes was vacuous.
« They recruited women who hated men and hated sex. Communists mostly. They have peculiar ideas about sex. Honey pots and promiscuity. Engles and Marx were against the family. They fooled around themselves. Like the UN committee on sexual equality chaired by the Saudi Muslims, with not a woman present , and they don’t see a problem with that. They called all of this ‘superego lacunae’ when i was doing analysis.’
I was at the World Congress of Psychiatry talking with the Head of Moscow Psychiatry. I had painted my nails red. Men and women psychoanalysts told me how much they liked the color. Bringing the painted nails to the centre of the conversation intrigued, hoping I’d share, but I just said ‘thank you’ .We talked about what we thought the sexual proclivities were of the present leadership of men and women .
« We always got together and talked of them as children. « Merkel’s still Stazi ». « What’s with all the mommy’s boys ? « « Macron «
« I don’t know what to make of Trump. He loves women but does he like to get spanked in the bedroom like our British leaders.’
We laughed and it was good to be home among adults away from the asylum of the government and the faculty where they ‘d hired all the perverts who covered up for them.
I’d feel the gay older guy took advantage of me. He certainly drugged me and had sex with me. Just like my female friend did. I didn’t put up much resistance with either of them once my body was in play. A bit like a dog humping furniture. Date rape might be the term today but back then everyone was ‘easy’. We drank and did drugs and even guys ended up with guys and girls with girls. We joked that if you remembered the 60’s and 70’s you simply weren’t there. The Kavanaugh public drama was such a lie. False accusations now running 40%. The « me too » movement as much about Weinstein being Jewish as about his being an obvious pig.
Ugly men got positions of power and women without money or power exchanged sex for power. It’s there in the Museum of Sex I visited in New York. I went au femme and I went drab. We read the histories on the wall. The number of species who were ambivalent. The biological record and the record of cultural history.
I remember defending the Little Sisters costly and painful long running legal battles over censorship. I’ve always been a libertarian, hated the communist dictatorships and other dictatorships. Loved freedom. I thought it wrong that some dirty little political biddy with no sex life of her own, culturally immature, would spend countless nights alone or with her select and special boy and girl friends, perhas her family, deciding what other adults could see. The arrogance.
I was the Youth Representative to Parliament and gave a speech on freedom against communism. Now the slippery slope has begun with hate speech and Islamaphobia. Homophobia was a lie , just the binary idea of the thing not that gays aren’t persecuted, and it just snowballed .Even antisemetism back fired. A whole new victim industry. The fall of society with half the population accountable while the other half are not and claim entitlement by aneient victimship. Years ago I wrote extensively about the war between the ‘whose up and whose down’ the « one upmanship’ competition of men and the ‘one downmanship competition of women. » male bullies and female bullies.
I have had sex with a woman hundreds of thousands of time and sex with a man a dozen perhaps. I understood her dilemma when she told me that her lesbian friends were rejecting her saying she wasn’t a lesbian anymore because she hadn’t had a girlfriend in a couple of years. She told me how boring the lesbian commercial drive society had become with who slept with who and who had the youngest. And she just hadn’t found anyone she loved. Her last partner had died after a ten year romance. I remember the lovely lesbian nurses I adored who I worked up north with and had at my home when they came down to the city. Now here was this patient. Not lesbian ‘enough’.
The pendulum had swung from gay being illegal in 1968. I’d dressed in a hot mini skirt and made a pilgrimage to Stonewall one night to see the drag show. It was very conservative. I was more outlandish in my space age wig. I’d had to put together a costume at one store for under a hundred, The American I had in cash. The young black girl had had a hoot helping me dress for the occasion. Faces of New York wanted to photograph me. How funny was that.
But then the shift occurred. The mixed result of the Aids epidemic. My San Franciscan Anglican priest friend told me he was at a religious conference as a speaker following his Baptish friend who’d just heard that thered’ been another earthquake in San Francisco.
‘He’d then gone on to blame this on the gays and insist that their sinful life style had caused their the earthquake like it caused their Aids.. »
Hearing this I thought of all the men I’d seen when I served in the aids epidemic who’d got their disease from tainted blood the BC government and Red Cross had given them. I thought too that Aids was a heterosexual disease in the rest of the world and mostly my patients got it sharing needles. I thought of the babies. I’d gone to courses at the conservative Regent College and the Liberal Vancouver School of Theology specifically to study « how come bad things happen to good people’ . It was what Job, the least taught book of the Bible was about.
« I told my friend that I thought his friends description of the earthquake and disease science was pretty sketchy. »
He went on to tell me, « I’d called my parish because I’d been concerned and found out everyone was alright. But I simply don’t like this old blaming and shaming holier than thou theology. »
« When I got up right after him, I shared that I was really thankful for my learned friend’s analysis and observations and that I would go back to my parish in San Francisco and Check this out immediately because I’d just called to see if everyone was alright and found out the epicentre of the earthquake was in our convent nunnery. You can be sure I’ll be looking into finding out if all these women are really homosexual men fornicating and spreading Aids. I thought they were really nice and kind chaste ladies and never knew. ‘
« The assembly of ministers and priests had collectively not been on the side of witch hunts and blame and shame but laughed uproariously. Even my Baptistfriend acknowledged I had a point »
« So remember a decade or so ago when if you sucked one cock the heterosexuals kicked you out and the gays took you immediately. » I asked my authoritative gay friend. He nodded.
« I’ve got this patient who thinks she’s not gay enough so I was wondering now that gay is very much « in » how many cocks does a person have to suck to be gay?’
« None, « he said.
« It’s where you shop. »
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