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I'm fucking terrified that yesterday will mean a lackadaisicaling of today, wherein a legal, incorporated, minute change of one of many laws interwoven in the Hetereosexual Agenda banishes the rest to the "what more could you need?" closet and the society spectacle incineration. This work has been termed apolitical by some, but seriously, how can you call a history of human sacrifice apolitical? Not even dwelling on the money, status, and human network so often illegally amputated and afterwards legally maintained, but you should really be looking at where one may be fired, alienated, and killed for same sex marriage. Here is a good start. So long as all that exists, the tire iron is still in force. I'm not even going to talk about countries outside the US, both for reasons of US-centricity and, really, if the biggest imperial force of contemporary times starts putting socioeconomic pressure on the source of those homophobic delegations fucking around on their passports, some good may come of it.
The book? Well, for a tip of the iceberg, it doesn't mince around the brutality of living a love that historically and presently is deemed obscene, perverse, unnatural, absurd, corrupting, and above all, other. We're talking a difference of sexuality, indeed only the most popular of many myriads, that the US used in the late 20th century as an excuse for ignoring a pandemic within the boundaries of home territory. The book is wary, self-sufficient, sweet (mind, I wouldn't recommend using it as a guide to safe sex of the sort it contains), and knows that particular future of blood and vice and quarantine is to be expected. One review says, of the two main characters, that "[t]hey know what they're not—not queer, not gay—but they have no idea what they are"; to be labeled with the popularly ostracized is to commit to death.
In regards to same sex marriage? I'd like to think that bans lifted in conjunction with legal marital rights (hospital visits, name on the death certificate, adoption) will expand the reality beyond the sensationalized stereotypes and into the mundane of missed deadlines, exasperating paperwork, and side characters in a novel who, thanks to the author's experiences in a broader space of public personal interaction, will be enhanced with real flesh and blood. The problem, you see, is this is all very mental, philosophical, the sort of social structuring that really doesn't mean much to those who are still dying. The problem is whether this story of Brokeback Mountain will have to be told again, and again, and again, as the public refuses to take LGBT in more than a single wave of dosage, that category here, this category there, never mind the intersections of gender, race, religion, others upon others whose denizens will be impacted regardless of the awareness of common sense.
I don't know. I really don't. I'll keep reading, though. That much I am capable of.
The book? Well, for a tip of the iceberg, it doesn't mince around the brutality of living a love that historically and presently is deemed obscene, perverse, unnatural, absurd, corrupting, and above all, other. We're talking a difference of sexuality, indeed only the most popular of many myriads, that the US used in the late 20th century as an excuse for ignoring a pandemic within the boundaries of home territory. The book is wary, self-sufficient, sweet (mind, I wouldn't recommend using it as a guide to safe sex of the sort it contains), and knows that particular future of blood and vice and quarantine is to be expected. One review says, of the two main characters, that "[t]hey know what they're not—not queer, not gay—but they have no idea what they are"; to be labeled with the popularly ostracized is to commit to death.
In regards to same sex marriage? I'd like to think that bans lifted in conjunction with legal marital rights (hospital visits, name on the death certificate, adoption) will expand the reality beyond the sensationalized stereotypes and into the mundane of missed deadlines, exasperating paperwork, and side characters in a novel who, thanks to the author's experiences in a broader space of public personal interaction, will be enhanced with real flesh and blood. The problem, you see, is this is all very mental, philosophical, the sort of social structuring that really doesn't mean much to those who are still dying. The problem is whether this story of Brokeback Mountain will have to be told again, and again, and again, as the public refuses to take LGBT in more than a single wave of dosage, that category here, this category there, never mind the intersections of gender, race, religion, others upon others whose denizens will be impacted regardless of the awareness of common sense.
I don't know. I really don't. I'll keep reading, though. That much I am capable of.