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3:31 AM 8/11/2010
I seem to have either allergies that are kicking my ass, or a cold. I ventured forth for foodstuffs earlier in the evening, and have been sitting around drinking lots of mint tea and feeling as stupid and slow and cut off from everything as if I were one of those Vonnegut characters who have nasal telepathy and a head cold.

I also have a random cut, and no idea how it got there. ( TMI )

1:07 AM 8/13/2010
Cold-type-thing confirmed. I had a really horrible couple nights, and went with my aunt in the morning to get fruits (I bought more than I was actually actively hungry for, because I knew I'd be hungry once I got my nose back), then we headed to Target. I got decongestant. My aunt looked at rice cookers for my cousin. I headed home, decongested.

I'd thought that I'd surely miss the announcement of whether Walker would lift the stay while we were out shopping, but evidently not. We were waiting on pins and needles; Ursie jested with JD that he could "pull an Azz", and influence the news to be released by taking a shower, like I did last time.

The news went up slightly after noon: the stay on his judgment will be lifted the evening of the 18th, which means that the happy couples of San Francisco have just under a week to plan their weddings if they're going to hit day 1. I surprised myself by actually busting out sobbing. Never mind that I don't have any current plans for a wedding; never mind that I don't have anyone I'm seeing right now; never mind that as queers go, I'm bisexual, and as bisexuals go, based on past data I'm statistically more likely to form a long-term bond with a man. It still affects me personally, and it's my people. No matter whether I never date another woman in my life, this is still my people.

Bawling over with, I started in on putting together the sangria, and wound up in a long and far-ranging conversation on Facebook chat with good ol' Shawn, who has also been suffering from a cold. I also pinged

wibbble to see if he was the person who had suggested that fascinating-looking remote tech support firm while Madman was still behaving badly and driving me to tears. Because he's behaving now. We determined it was probably not him. I did my eyes in the bi rainbow again, for celebration's sake. I do like having a diversity of eye shadow. It makes me want to play with it, play with all the lucious colors. My inner painter needs to be sated.

Feeling much better than I had in three days, because I could finally breathe, I sallied forth theatre-wards, for I was to meet with the boys for some entertainments. I was a n00b on the Muni, but as a reward for my taking the wrong train, I did get to see a bit of hilarious and inexplicable byplay on the N. Heading inbound, just about around Safeway, this kid marched up to the front of the car, yelling about something. He got off the train from the front door, and, as he passed the open middle door near where I was sitting, he hurled something hard through the door and into the train, which sailed past the face and over the mobile phone of the random hipster guy lounging on one of the benches (it was a very empty train), clattering against the wall and falling to the floor. The guy got off his mobile in shock. It turned out to be a barrette. Surreal event for the evening, CHECK.

At length I arrived at the Castro Theatre; fortunately they do let in latecomers, and I was only a bit late. We were watching Fruit Fly, which has joined my list of adored movies. I must watch it again. I must in fact purchase it at some point. I came in just about as the "Fag Hag" number (language) was starting. I had not heard some of those. It was late enough that I did not want to barge through the seats and step on toes, so I was not actually sitting with the boys, but this is a movie that one can miss the first ten minutes of, and watch by oneself, and still enjoy the hell out of it, and I am sure that the enjoyment would have been fairly multiplied had all stars been in the right spheres, &c.

There was applause and laughter throughout the film. I did notice that no-one seems to charge their phone at all. :D Though the curled-up-in-bed-with-phone is particularly genuine. And the damned air conditioner building! It was as much a love story for the city as it was the story of these people. The ending was a bit inexplicable, but hey. It's a thing of beauty.

So then I went home, and curled up on the internet with my fishies.

Current Mood: happy
Current Music: a very random medley in my head
Crossposts: http://azurelunatic.livejournal.com/6573970.html

Reminder: specifically warning for male/male sex, even if you also warn for male/female sex, sends a bit the wrong message when happened across in isolation.

Warning for sex (especially explicit sex vs. some foreplay and fade-to-black) is appreciated and appropriate.

Description of the sex involved, with as many descriptive bits as the people around seem to be in need of, including who is having the sex, what kind of sex they are having, and the gender, sex, or both, of all involved, is also appreciated and appropriate.

An adult (adult-by-behavior, specifically) can look at a description and summary and decide whether or not, by the description, this particular thing is for them.

Basically, when you warn for same-sex sexyfuntimes, and state that it's a warning, you're not just providing a neutral description of the contents. You are explicitly saying, "I am buying into the meme that same-sex sexyfuntimes is alarming and bad!" even though you are writing it and you know that people will read it. You are catering to the concept that people who are squicked by it are totally right to be squicked by it and a lot of people are squicked by it and we don't blame you for being squicked by it, it's nasty gay sex.

Some people are squicked by it, and if they don't want to read it, that's their business; as long as they don't dispute my right to have sex in any way I choose to with any other consenting adult or adults, nor the right of my virtual brother and his partner to have sex (though really, I could do without the details there; virtual family doesn't make them less family -- this is one instance of same-sex smut that I really really don't need to read), nor the right of any other adults to have delightful vanilla, kinky, smutty, consensual sexy funtimes -- then that's their business whether they seek it out or avoid it.

But, for fuck's sake, I will not cater to people who declare that gay sex needs more warnings than straight sex, nor do I even want to appear to cater to them by allowing a warning about sex (that happens to be gay) to read as if it were a warning for OMG GAY sex.

If you happen to do this, I will probably not speak to you personally about it, because most practically, I will either forget to do it, forget who I've already reminded and entirely not remind some people at all, and remind others ten times, or (alas) only remember when something else annoys me, like when I just don't like somebody's icon or something. And that would be wankier than I want to actually be. And goodness knows that there are probably some warnings like that in my back catalog. But going forward, I don't want to keep perpetuating this meme. And if you do see me do it, poke me.

Crossposts: http://azurelunatic.livejournal.com/6572139.html

1:59 PM 8/4/2010
OMG WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS. JUSTICE!!

2:02 AM 8/5/2010
To illustrate for the people who have not seen me sing this in person: the motherfucker chorus. (LJ voice post.)

5:42 PM 8/5/2010
Earlier today, I wound up at Ms. Magazine's 10 Things Men and Boys Can Do to Stop Human Trafficking, which struck me as having its heart in the right place, but being perhaps excessively sex-negative, and choosing to deal with the complexities surrounding all types of sex work by instructing people to entirely shun the sex industry. I couldn't leave that without comment. So I left them a comment, which I have reproduced here for posterity.

( I do go on some. )

8:36 PM 8/5/2010
I've been slowly reading through Walker's ruling, and I'm more and more impressed with him.

( Read more... )

4:31 AM 8/6/2010
Is there a fundamental difference between "pics plz" and "pics or it didn't happen"?

11:04 PM 8/6/2010

MY THREAD HERE

1:44 AM 8/7/2010
I'm reading Walker's ruling still.
If you fear that, upon hearing that same-sex marriage is possible, your daughter declares that she wants to marry a princess, not a prince? That is not the sign of your straight daughter becoming a lesbian, that is the sign of your lesbian daughter realizing that there are other people like her in the world, and that she doesn't have to fear isolation for being herself. Or you may have a bisexual daughter. Or your straight daughter may have realized that she actually prefers a drag queen.

Oh, Judge Walker, for you I might consider an exception to my general concept that pregnancy is not a viable option for me, and might consider carrying a child for you or any husband you might acquire. ( Read more... )

1:13 AM 8/8/2010
The march and attendant festivities took a lot out of me, and my sleeping schedule went WHEE. Just now recovering.

Today featured a Skype call with some of the fish, where we discovered that my audio setup lets the people on the other end hear maybe one word out of ten. Also, I have the audio qualities of a swarm of bees. LW watchers and players may be very amused by this. The "swarm of bees" effect was, I admit, somewhat enhanced by me occasionally playing the hand-trumpet. Given the opportunity to be silly, I will be very silly. I follow in Dad's shoes, with that.

After that, there was a showing of Ferris Bueller's Day Off in Mission Dolores Park. I showed up, wisely bringing blankets. It was fun! A not-insignificant number of people got up to twist and shout during the parade sequence. One could hear the singing along over the movie soundtrack. It was very spontaneous and fun.

Crossposts: http://azurelunatic.livejournal.com/6570623.html

So yesterday!

Judge Walker delivered his decision on the case about two seconds after I decided that there was no point waiting by the internet in suspense, I should go the hell and take a shower. After that, it was all squeeing. I was too nervous to actually eat lunch, although I did have a cup of the moderately vile chocolate-flavored hemp-based protein drink I picked up at Trader Joe's in the hopes that it would serve well for just such occasions.

IRC was a-buzz, despite the general prohibition of politics in #dreamwidth. ##crawl-offtopic was less restrained.

jd talked about the practical considerations of a quick-before-they-take-it-away marriage. I examined the contents of my wallet (enough to at least help out with the cost of a license, as a wedding present, if they went for it), and looked up the requirements for officiating at a wedding in the state of California (if doing it as clergy, one must list one's clergy status on the certificate, and the couple in question must accept one's clergy status, but there is no central registry with the state; one must also be conversant with who can and can't get married, and not marry anyone who can't get married).

teshiron commented on all the general furor.

Sadly, the chatter became moot when we discovered that there was a stay on the verdict, at least until Friday. So there wasn't to be an emergency wedding -- at least not until later.

jd vowed to tell people about it, if it happened. IRC was still enthusiastic about the concept, and people made with the wedding chatter in any case.

I had it in my mind to leave early, but I wound up taking so long with my eye makeup that I was merely leaving on time. ( My makeup shenanigans. )

In addition to the eyeshadow and lipstick, I pinned my braid up in a bun, stuck my fascinator in my hair, and wore my Loud Pink Scarf, which is almost as good as a hair-on-fire boa.

I nearly started crying on the train.

I encountered a few people going my way on the platform at the Civic Center station. We greeted each other with enthusiasm and cheer. We didn't know each other. On the crowded train, I high-fived a little girl with a rainbow-striped hoodie and a rainbow flag almost bigger than she was; she asked me if I was heading to the march. Yes, yes, I was. We saw each other in the parade later.

teshiron hailed me as I got off the train, and we got his iPod untangled from his backpack. The pretty silver rings I wear on a regular basis are the wrong size to fit them. I checked. Just in case. Teshi went off thattaway for the safety briefing, and I emerged into chaos.

There were Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. There were same-sex couples of all ages. Someone handed me a sign referencing the Loving v. Virginia case. Someone handed me an American flag. I collected stickers. I spotted someone with a "BLOGGER" sign in his hatband, and fist-bumped

chipuni, who recognized me by name: we know people in common. I held the sign facing traffic. The police kept having to push us back off the street so traffic could get through. There was a truck with a sound system, but it was aimed at the crowd down on Castro, not up on the streetcorner. People were taking pictures, video, of everything. People snapped pictures of me. Two different reporters took my name. One asked me where I lived, how did I feel. Great! Proud. My aunt called in the middle of it all with a question about laundry; I shouted back at her so she could hear me over the noise; she told me to enjoy the party, and she'd see me for the Farmers' Market if I was awake in the morning. I started crying at a few points. There was singing. There were more American flags than rainbow ones, even in the Castro. Some people were wearing rainbow flags as capes. I got a few compliments on my eyeshadow. I kept on holding up the sign and the flag and smiling. I was surprised that my face didn't get tired.

JD texted me to ask where I was. I made my way through the crowd to their corner, then called to navigate precisely through the masses of people. They were both in SAFETY t-shirts over their long-sleeved shirts. We waited for the parade to start and kept clear of the streetcars. JD insisted that Teshi and I simply must watch Cazwell's "Ice Cream Truck", which elicited equal amounts of giggling and staring from us, peering at Ryan's Blackberry's screen, sharing a pair of earbuds, one for each of us. A woman with a tiny girl in arms walked past; I passed along the pink beads I was wearing.

The parade started out with the truck, blasting music. I fell in behind it. I wasn't sure if I was going to keep up with the parade, as I walk slowly, but I reasoned that I could start out near the head of the parade, walk as fast as I comfortably could, and drop back; if the parade left me behind, I could simply walk to the courthouse on my own, a one-woman parade.

We got the entire half of the street as we marched down Market in the direction of the courthouse. Cars honked. Pedestrians waved and snapped pictures. One guy was driving along with his cellphone stuck out his window, naughty naughty. A streetcar driver rang his bell for us. We cheered and waved back, waving our flags, our signs. There was a huge rainbow flag. One girl wasn't feeling the cold because she was drunk. People waved from windows, from the upper story of a bar. I sang: at first to the truck's music ahead, then, when I fell back out of range, I sang snatches of "We Shall Come Home" to myself quietly -- this was a homecoming, not a protest. Then I switched to "James Bondage". A fellow with a guitar came along, singing "Going to the Courthouse", and I sang along with him. We kept pace for a while, and eventually people around us joined in. Going to the courthouse of love.

jld texted me, so I knew he was in the parade somewhere. We found each other just as the parade reached the Civic Center Plaza, and he and his friend homed in on JD and Teshi as I joined all of them. A police motorcycle motorcade brought up the rear of the parade, and I realized that I had, in fact, gone from the head of the parade to the tail, but I had actually marched the whole 1.6 miles with the parade, even walking slowly, with a cane, and a sign, and a flag, and in pain. I started to realize how much I actually hurt. I limped along to the speechifying. Eventually I needed something more than my cane to lean on, and located a handy railing. I draped myself over that as I learned that on this very same day as Judge Walker's ruling, a group had released a massive document that hospitals receiving ... some sort of funding, I was too whited-out to register ... were expected to take as guidelines, with thought given to unmarried same-sex partners, same-sex parents even if the parent had not legally adopted the child, transgendered people. I cried -- broke down sobbing, rather than dribbling decorous tears as I had been doing here and there all day -- as I heard that the guideline stated that transgendered people should be addressed by their preferred gender and name. I never knew you, you were just part of the extended part of my social circle, and it is too late for you, but be damned to the ignorant, fearful people who denied you your very name and pushed your family to allow them to do so before you slipped away and died. Be damned to them.

( I was made of ow, and then social ensued. )

Crossposts: http://azurelunatic.livejournal.com/6569274.html

You say "coming out" like it's a neat little package, sometimes: realize that X or Y person has likely assumed that you are a heterosexual (as it's the societal default, given that it is the mode of sexual orientations, so it's perhaps a 90% safe assumption, and depending on your high school teacher, a 90% might even have been an A), then declare to them, "Hello, I am your old [relationship], [name]! I bet you had no idea, but I am [orientation]!"

And then they react to it, and eventually both of you go on your merry ways, and with any good luck they would not have been one of the people who is inclined to berate/fire/beat/rape/murder you for revealing that you are not straight.

There's a feeling I pick up from the community at large, and the feeling is that no matter how long it takes, if in the end the result of you coming out to someone is that someone accepting it, then coming out is worth it, both on a personal level for you, and for queer society as a whole.

The other part of that feeling is that the big hurdle to be overcome that is preventing people from coming out is their own fears of being rejected building up the act of coming out into a big devastating hurdle: if only people would realize that in the end many people who come out are acknowledged/embraced by the people they come out to, perhaps they would not fear it as much.

(And yes, of course these are gross oversimplifications, but they're oversimplifications that stick like little toxic needles into the hearts of young queer folk.)

It's not the act of saying "Hi, I am Azz, and I am bisexual*" to a workmate that I dread. The words are simple, and I know that particularly these days, for a woman, my risks are relatively low.

The part I dread comes in between the declaration and the acceptance where we go our own directions, where I am likely to be called upon by someone in the full exercise of their heterosexual privilege, demanding of me at least some of the following:

The commonly-understood definition of my orientation (because they have never heard of it before, and/or cannot Google it themselves)
Defense of my orientation's right to exist and/or seek romantic and sexual fulfillment
Whether I meet their preconceptions of my orientation
Exactly how I personally align and/or differ from the commonly-understood definition of my orientation
My personal relationship and sexual history
Whether or not my history complies with the definition of my orientation (either the commonly-understood definition, their own preconceived definition, or some weird combination of both)
Defense of why I identify as my orientation and not another orientation that they feel suits me better
Intimate details of my sexual activity and practices
Education on any other non-majority sexual practices and preferences they may have conflated or associated with my orientation

If, after an extensive and painful session of being quizzed about intimate details that are frankly none of their business, they then deign to accept that the orientation I stated at the beginning of things applies to me, and continue to treat me warmly, or at least continue to treat me the same as they previously had or better, then I am supposed to be grateful that the coming-out "went well", and be grateful that I was given the opportunity to educate them so that they could learn to accept our community.

I don't know about the rest of you, but I have been reading and following the most prominent parts of Racefail '09, and I was ashamed to see that as a white woman, I have been guilty of expecting the People of Color to provide me with a free/neat/tidy education after they had pointed out problematical points -- even though in most cases I did not say anything to ask or demand this. Despite not often opening my big mouth to make the situation worse, I was still failing in my mind and expectations.

Only now, after having repeatedly seen why it is my responsibility as a would-be clueful white woman to do my own damned homework, not their responsibility to give me the answers, do I begin to see why the nearly inevitable question and answer session that near-inescapably accompanies a coming-out is an exercise of heterosexual privilege and heterosexuals not wanting to do their homework.

The ritual of "Coming Out" enjoins youth to become educators and ambassadors, but also sends the message that it is OK for heterosexuals to not do their homework, that the queer community will gladly do the heavy intellectual lifting, that it is okay to anticipate a lengthy debate during which one's instinctive and possibly not thoroughly examined feelings will be expected to not be found conflicting and adhere to logical principles after announcing one's orientation (directly or indirectly).

Oh yes. Indirectly. The stereotypical "Coming Out" is when the queer person becomes tired of hiding their true self, works themselves up to it, addresses an important person in their life, and tells them their orientation. This is not the only way it gets done, oh no. There are a thousand times when you have to come out or choose not to do it, and it gets very old very fast.

Someone says something that assumes you are heterosexual, and you don't feel like letting that assumption pass.
Someone says something that assumes you are heterosexual, and you actually have to correct them because them getting it wrong is going to cause problems.
Someone assumes your sexual orientation, but got the wrong minority orientation.
Someone makes a disparaging comment about your orientation (and you don't believe they know that you are).
Someone asks about details of your personal life that would not cause comment if you were heterosexual, and you can be rude, lie, or come out. ("Is that your sister?" "Are you married?" etc.)

On a personal level for me, coming out to every person I know is too damned exhausting, even though I am okay with 99% or more of the people I have met knowing that a woman approaching me in a potential romantic or sexual sense would not get an immediate veto based solely on the fact that she is a woman. Sometimes it would even be unsafe (that other less-than-one-percent).

For the greater good of queer society as a whole, I am sometimes made to feel guilty that I do not have the resources to devote to coming out to everyone to whom it would be safe to come out to. When I do gird my loins and speak out about my sexuality even when I know there's a painful discussion coming up, I know that while I may not immediately reap the benefits of it, I'm taking one for the team, so it's all going to be OK in the end, provided I don't die of it.

I am not exactly shy about allowing people to know my sexuality. I make references to both ex-girlfriends and ex-boyfriends. I make mention of bisexuality (mine) in public journal entries. I belong to orientation-specific communities. I state the orientation on Facebook. My car sports a rainbow sticker and a bi pride flag sticker. Generally I do not get flak about these things, so they are not a problem. I do not mind people knowing. I do mind going through the fucking third degree when someone finds out.

It's not OK for queer people to be made to feel that they must pass as heterosexual in order to avoid conflict or be safe.
It's not OK to add to a young queer person's misery by expecting them to be a debater and ambassador on top of their other issues (and blaming them if they don't), unless they feel like doing that.
It's not OK for heterosexuals to expect us to do their homework.
It's not OK for heterosexuals to greet a queer person directly or indirectly revealing their orientation as time to attack or debate their sexuality. Revealing one's sexuality is not always and without exception an invitation to start a discussion.

*Bisexual is an oversimplification in itself. I suspect my true orientation is more in the direction of sapiosexuality, particularly as dumbasses of any gender identity actively repulse me.

Yes, it's going around. Yes, I support all humans having basic human rights, and I think that marriage, or at least entering into a legally binding marriage-type contract with other consenting adults, is one of those things. The thing that concerns me in the whole gay marriage morass is the language that's being quietly put into law in the US states that are taking it up to question -- that not only is same-sex marriage not allowed, but legal horsing around to make a contractual equivalent to marriage for same-sex partners is not allowed. That's immensely worrisome.

I'm not going to paste the text blindly, because that's not how I am.

elorie, being also not like that, commented: 'I imagine [a world] in which the most important question about a couple who wish to get married is "are they ready for this?", not "is there one of each?" ' I have to agree with that. I also have to agree with

amberite: "If you truly believe in gay rights, then say something when our rights are infringed upon. ... If you don't believe in human rights for queer people, and you really, truly want to show it, then just drop all the queer people from your friends list. (That includes me, by the way, and probably a big bunch of others.) "