2009 – A decade ago

2009 was a strange year all in all. I witnessed (as did millions of others) the slow steady decline into illness and death of Patrick Swayze. This once athletic man who bristled with electricity and charisma onscreen was reduced to a bag of bones, fighting for breath and ultimately, his life. When his time came it was no surprise yet it shocked me to my core. Earlier in the year had been the much publicised death of UK reality ’star’ Jade Goody who died of cervical cancer at the age of 27.

Watching both of these people fight so publicly for the thing we each take for granted and lose out in the end held a grim fascination for me. I found myself looking back through older photos of both, as if to try and pinpoint the moment the deadly disease struck but what I was really doing was trying to make peace with my own mortality, something I’ve always been aware of but put to the back of my mind however when I collapsed in May of 2009, it brought it suddenly back into sharp focus. One minute I was sitting in a theatre watching a concert and the next I was on the floor. It happened that fast. I had placed so much stress down onto myself that it all became too much and my mind and body just gave up the ghost and checked out for a while.

That experience however didn’t seem to be enough for me to realise how precious this one little life is. The second hospitalisation was in October. I was admitted to hospital with excruciating stomach pains. I walked into the hospital bent double and I hurt so bad words aren’t adequate to describe it. Sweat was literally running off me, I felt like someone was sticking me with a knife and I really thought my number was up. I won’t bore you with all the details but I ended up having an operation and I have never been so scared by anything in my whole life. I can remember standing in the toilet looking at myself in the mirror. I looked right into my eyes. The pain was awful and no one knew what was causing it. I began to wonder if it was something sinister and I literally felt like I was staring down death, my own. I prayed to God and made all kinds of promises if I got through it and pleaded with this Being not to let me forget how I felt at that moment if I got through it all. Luckily I didn’t and I haven’t and my belief in Something Greater Than Myself is every bit as strong. I will act on that one of these days.

I also discovered the power contained within a human hand. 4 fingers and a thumb. A woman directly opposite me on my first night there was in agony, crying out in pain. She had terminal cancer. It was totally out of character for me but I asked her if I could come across to where she was and hold her hand. She looked at me for a long moment, I saw tears fall down her face and she said “yes, I would like that very much.” I made my way across, I was in a lot of pain but it paled in comparison to what she was going through. I held her hand and she smiled at me, she squeezed it as the pain grew more intense and we each found solace within the restorative power of touch. Her and I have remained in contact since through handwritten correspondence. She calls me her hand-holder extraordinaire. I love having her as a friend. She’s a lovely person, I feel deeply honoured to know her.

2009 was also the year I realised how important friendship is to me. Friends are the family who aren’t linked by biology but simply because they choose to be there. They are our heartline family. They really don’t have to be there. They could leave at any time yet don’t. I fully understood and learned to appreciate the sheer unmitigated joy that friends bring to life. For the first time ever, I realised that I needed people in my life, that I’m not an island and I can’t always do things on my own. Where before I might have viewed that as weakness, I instead realised it was a great strength. Knowing that I could call on people when I needed to and that they would respond in kind made the world of difference. I also realised how invaluable that same quality is in reverse when others called on me and I was there for them.

So here we are, another year and another decade. I believe that the lessons learned in 2009 will form the basis of what’s to come in 2010 where they’ll be consolidated and expanded upon. I realised very recently through chatting with a valued and truly wonderful friend that I could be physically turned on by both men and women yet still be gay within that due to only really feeling truly fulfilled through having sexual and romantic relations with other men. Gee, I wish I could have had that kind of conversation years ago, it would have made everything so much easier. I am making peace with my gayness and have amazing friends around me who care yet don’t care at the same time. They care about me yet my sexuality just isn’t an issue. It’s me they see and they like me and on the occasional days when my internalised homophobia rears its ugly head and cause me to second guess myself or doubt they give an extra amount of love and acceptance to get me through it.

2009 brought me closure with regards my sexuality. I stopped smoking. I made great friends. I realised the renewing and restorative power of love and mutual support. I rekindled my long buried spirituality and have a belief which is utterly unshakeable. I realised how precious and tenuous life actually is. I started the process of loving myself and not looking so much for external approval and acceptance though I have a long way to go on that score. I got rid of my damn piles and began taking stuff up my butt again! 2009 was an amazing year on so many levels and I learned more last year than in many years added together. In saying all of that, I’m bloody glad it’s over and done with. Here’s to a New Year and all it may bring.

Bringing It Home To Me

I ventured out to our local gay pride event last weekend.  I have actively avoided going to Reading Pride because it always felt a little close to home, on so many levels.  I’ve been to a couple of other prides this year and really enjoyed myself, not least because I get to be with ‘my own’ without feeling self-loathing and revulsion as I used to.  In the past I would watch or hear about ‘them’ in the media and my guts would twist because I knew I wanted to be out there too but didn’t know if I would ever have the courage of my convictions to be able to do so.

So yeah, last week I wandered into town past all the places I’ve come to know in my 30-something journey through life.  It wasn’t long before I was waiting by the Civic Centre for the parade to start, with men dressed as nuns wearing pink plastic shoes, lesbian prison officers, the local gay police contingent and various other gradings of queer.  After a short delay (I think we were on gay time!) we were off.  I was given an anti-fascist placard which I held aloft and we began marching through the town centre.  It felt wonderful.

I was totally out and proud and I didn’t give a stuff who saw me.  This town I grew up in, that I realised I was gay in and which holds so many memories for me.  To experience such freedom in a place where I felt a prisoner for so long, was exhilirating.  I was walking alongside gays, lesbians, bisexuals, the intergendered and transgendered amid shouts of “we’re here, we’re queer, we have no fear” while rainbow-bedecked students blew on pink whistles.  It’s one of the highlights of my life thus far.

As we snaked through the streets and alleyways and onwards to the park where the festival itself was held, I looked across and there, just 100 metres from where we all stood, was Reading remand centre. It had been Reading Gaol. It was where Oscar Wilde was imprisoned and sentenced to hard labour for committing homosexual offences and he drew on these experiences to write his infamous Ballad of Reading Gaol. That was a massive wake up call for me and in that instant I knew I could never return to the darkness and pain of the closet. Those days were finally behind me.

I looked up at the sky.  It was a beautiful day weather-wise and it held out for us even though the forecast had been less than promising.  I looked around at the leafy surroundings of the Forbury Gardens, which was still in full bloom with a dazzling array of late-Summer colour.  How could I ever have doubted?  How could I have ever feared being gay?  How could I have ever wanted to deny who I was?  I looked around at all these happy smiling faces and I knew in that instant that I was where I needed to be.  Pride had brought it all home to me.

Far-right group to protest at local pride event

Far-right group the National Front are to be allowed to ‘peacefully’ protest at this year’s Reading Pride parade and festival.

Their demonstration has been given the go ahead by local police in a move which has angered and divided the local LGBT community.

Chief Superintendent Richard Bennett said “It is the duty of the police to maintain public safety and strike a balance between allowing protesters their right to lawfully demonstrate while making sure there is minimal disruption to the local community.”

Steve Masters, chair of BOLGAF (Berkshire Older Lesbian & Gay Forum) had this to say to me earlier:-

“This is the situation with the National Front and Reading Pride; after approaching Reading Police, they were allowed to have a static demo in the town centre and on the route of the march. They are allowed no more than 20 people & must have no abusive/offensive placards.

Their rationale for all this is that they object to our ‘flamboyance’ and ‘promoting homosexuality.’  I still think this is nothing other than confrontational, as their sole reason for being in that place at that time is to show their dislike for LBGT people; but the police say they have no choice but to allow it (on those conditions), in the interests of free speech.”

Mr Masters went on to say, “Are the NF still going?? I thought they fizzled out years ago.  I don’t know why the NF is getting so worked-up about homosexuality as I can remember when several of their leaders were outed as being gay.  The National Front can suck my cock!!!!!”

Smoking is killing LGBT’s in large numbers….

A study soon to come out in the United States shows that the percentage of smokers among gay men and lesbians is far higher than that of their heterosexual counterparts.  37% of lesbians in the United States light up as compared to 18% of straight women which is an increase of over 200% whereas the figures for gay men are 33% as opposed to 24% of straight men which is still a quite considerable increase.  Researchers studied those who smoked within the LGBT communities for over 20 years to inform their eventual findings.

This does not surprise me.  When I used to party a lot more in my 20’s the best place to guarantee a ciggie would be wherever gay people hung out.  Not only did a large number of them smoke, they were also generous in dishing out cigs to whoever was nearby.  Plus, they smoked ‘our’ brand.  Even now, this particular brand seems to be the smoke of choice among lesbians and gay men in England.

In fact, where I’ve been working recently all the apparent looking gays smoked so I was guaranteed a cig and a good chat with fellow pink teamers, a win-win situation for a gay nicotine addict like myself.  Because that’s what we are, addicts.  Mention that though to any number of people who smoke and they baulk at the idea that they themselves could be addicts.  Addicts are people who jack up in parks and walk around looking skeletal and mumbling unintelligibly, not people who smoke a good old menthol cigarette while having a posh dinner party with friends.

I’ve smoked on and off since I was 14 though there have been quite significant periods where I haven’t touched any at all but it’s always been with me pretty much.  If I haven’t had one I’ve been thinking about one.  I liked smoking from the off.  I wasn’t drawn into it nor did so to look cool partly because I have never been cool.  I simply asked someone at school who I knew smoked if I could try one which I duly did, loved the smell, the taste and was off out there doing it.  If anyone can be a natural smoker it was me.  I know it’s killing me and I will stop but I do love it and for a non-smoker that’s very difficult to grasp.  Hey it’s even difficult for me to get my head around.  I love lighting up a thin paper cylinder and breathing fire into my lungs.  It’s madness!

Joseph Lee, one of the chief researchers in the aforementioned study had this to say:-

“Likely explanations include the success of tobacco industry’s targeted marketing to gays and lesbians, as well as time spent in smoky social venues and stress from discrimination.”

He then had this to say, which makes rather grim reading I’m afraid:-

“Tobacco is likely the number one cause of death among gays and lesbians.”

The American Cancer Society estimates that at least 30,000 LGBT people die each year from smoking-related illnesses.  That’s a shocking statistic.  Groups such as the National LGBT Tobacco Control Network have been out there working to try and curb young LGBT’s from picking up to begin with because a lot of marketing seems to be aimed at the younger market.  We all know that smoking is no longer cool, government legislation has seen to that.  Where once smokers could light up freely in all manner of places, now they are viewed as pariahs in society and you often see smokers shivering away outside of offices, pubs, clubs you name it just so they can have their nicotine fix.

Smoking a cigarette does not alleviate the symptoms of stress, rather it adds to it in terms of raising blood pressure, heart rate etc etc so it must have a psychological factor because I know that I seem to feel more relaxed when I’m smoking and in fact I’m more often than not smoking as I write because it makes me think I’m better at creating and putting ideas together.  I know that when I pick up my bass guitar to play, invariably I’m smoking shortly after and put me where there’s alcohol and I want to smoke immediately.  Looking round my circle of gay friends, a large number smoke or have smoked.  I don’t know what the answer is, all I know is we in the gay community smoke a hell of a lot, it’s killing us in large numbers and that pains me considerably.

Howdy y’all

Howdy y’all.  It’s been too long hasn’t it?  My sincerest and unreserved apologies for not getting round to all you guys.  I could say life got in the way but that’s a very lame excuse.  I could say it’s because I didn’t feel like blogging (not a lie) but again that’s simply a reason albeit the major underlying one.  The simple fact is, blogging is a reciprocal thing and many of you have included me as a link on your own blogs while others have taken the time to leave comments and I’ve repaid that with …. NOTHING!  I’m sorry guys.

I went to a gay bar…

Last night, I plucked up the courage and went on my own into a gay pub and I cannot tell you how scared I was, well maybe you know.  I had been circling the establishment for days, walking down to it then past it then round again and past it and if it hadn’t been for the fact I was bursting for the toilet and knew I would wet myself if I didn’t go in (because there was nowhere else to go within a short walking distance) I doubt it would have happened at all.

I walked up to the door and pushed it and everyone looked round and things were made worse by the fact I kind of half fell down a step before the bar itself.  I felt an idiot.  I ordered a drink and then went out into the beer garden where I lit up a smoke and just tried to get my bearings.  I applied logic to it and knew there was nothing to fear but I just sat there shaking for ages. People were walking past on their way home from work then suddenly loads and loads of men in shorts and t-shirts jogged past.  I smiled to myself, drank some more beer and just enjoyed the flesh show.

When I came back through to the bar, I went to the toilet and every single solitary part of me was saying “run Jonny run” but I wouldn’t give into it.  I was there, it had taken me ages to get there and I was going to stay until the fear subsided.  I walked back to the bar and ordered a soft drink and then another.  I stayed there for just over an hour and when I left I was calm and knew that next time it would be easier.  The landlady was lovely, really nice as were the regulars, they’d all been there and understood.  So yeah, I went to a gay bar.

Come out come out…

I came out today to my two closest straight friends and they took it in their stride and of course as is so often the case, they already knew.

So yeah, we were talking about something or other and one of them happened to mentioned someone who looked gay (they did so in a lighthearted way) and I could feel that familiar terrifying yet exhilirating feeling come up and before I knew it I had told them.

They were like “okay” then they carried on as they had done before, no break in the conversation and I’ve never known that.  It didn’t make the slightest bit of difference to anything.  It was lovely actually.

Pride…

Today, I ventured out to my first Pride event.  Oxford Pride.

It was a wet and dreary day and I think this reflected on the amount of people who turned up.  Still, it was well worth going if only to see a man wearing make-up and wearing white rugby socks handing out Disney stickers to people.

There were the obligatory safe sex stalls, one from Amnesty International, loads selling rainbow-themed goods, a t-shirt stall (with among others,  a t-shirt which read Free Your Mind and Your Ass Will Follow lol), a student union one and various other things besides.

There was food and drink, an ice cream van, a fairground and a stage with singers and performers.  I ran into 3 people I knew and I saw Mazz from mazzimage.  I told Teresa who I’d seen and her and Mazz chatted for a while but word about PPP must have gotten around because Mazz already knew about it, which was good.

I’d gone to meet friends.  Teresa & Helen run a social networking site called Pretty Pink Pearl and they were there to drum up some new business, handing out cards and just basically getting their names about and making themselves known.

I introduced them to JW, the Queen Mother of Reading and he chatted with them for a while basically outlining what he could do for them.  JW’s a great bloke, he’s probably the most well known face on the local gay scene and long may he continue to be so.

I left when T & H did, said goodbye where they’d parked their car and made my way back to the railway station, the train I needed came a couple of minutes later and was I back indoors here within the hour.  I’m glad I went.  It was a good day.

Citronella…

I’ve dotted some little glass lanterns around the garden and put citronella tealight candles in them and they look as pretty as a picture.  There’s a soft lemon scent around them.  It’s lovely.

Inside however is a different story….

I can fully understand why citronella works so effectively as an insect repellant.  The opened pack of tealight candles has utterly stunk out one of the downstairs rooms and in fact now everything smells of fly spray!!!!

Not good at all.

The Times of Harvey Milk (documentary)

“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.” Harvey Milk

In preparation for the dvd release of Milk starring Sean Penn, I sat down and watched the Oscar-winning documentary The Times of Harvey Milk, narrated by Harvey Fierstein.  It was amazing and Milk himself comes across as a really great guy in terms of personality and what he brought to the city of San Francisco.

Amid all the muscle marys, fitness freaks and body fascists running around in the 1970’s, here is this very ordinary looking man with big ears and large nose totally out and comfortable in who he was.  It was a revelation.  Even though he was completely out of the closet and known in San Francisco, he didn’t just spend time helping out the GLBT community but catered for all in his role as supervisor.  He was truly inclusive.

Harvey Milk was assassinated along with the Mayor George Moscone in 1978 by supervisor Dan White.  White was promptly arrested and tried 5 months later.  It was quite telling of the time when auto machinist Jim Elliott (one of the people who knew Harvey and was talking about him) said that had White just killed Moscone he would have been sent down for 30 years but because he killed Milk too (Milk being as he termed him, a ‘fruit’) he got off on a lesser charge.  White was out of prison by 1984!  The 80’s were not a good time to be gay in terms of discrimination.  Come to think of it, nor are the 00’s.

What was hard to watch was the fact that AIDS, although looming large on the horizon wasn’t significantly claiming lives at that time although any and all lives are precious.  AIDS emerged as a gay related cancer in 1981.  The film itself came out in 1984 but the interviews were done in 1982.  Watching a healthy looking Bill Kraus speaking for the documentary (he was played by Sir Ian McKellen in the film And The Band Played On) it was hard to believe that by 1986 he would be dead, taken by AIDS.

All in all, I can highly recommend The Times of Harvey Milk.  It’s an excellent documentary but it’s not just of appeal to the gay community, it’s something we could all learn and grow from.  It’s inspirational in its content and it’s a part of history which is only just being recognised.  The area where Milk lived and worked, the Castro, is now home to a large population of GLBT people and when I go there, I will look up at the rainbow flags flying and think of what Harvey Milk stood for as a human being.