Tomorrow

Halloween is especially special if you live in Las Vegas.  It is tomorrow.

I just thought I'd mention it.

Notes On My Not Yet "Coming Out"

I took a six-hour nap yesterday, and I followed it up with eight hours of overnight sleep. I have been very frightened that I am losing a part of myself, the part capable of understanding love, by not sleeping well. (Most people would be more scared by sleeping 14 hours out of 24, but I'm used to my sleep patterns being volatile since I contracted fibromyalgia.) At least my concern is more about whether I can bring all of myself to a relationship rather than whether I am enough of a property that I will be permitted to play the game at all. It is frightening enough being polyamorous (and chronically ill) in this society without having to worry about any stripped gears on my part.


There is a part of me that is very sad about what my new activities mean to Pattie. But she and I have talked about the matter for years, and we agreed that if it ever reached the point where her illness was hampering her to the point where she just didn't have the energy any more, I would be able to look elsewhere. Things have passed the point where a rational standard could be said to exist. But my being in the right (or, technically, our being in the right) hasn't made me any less sorry. I still feel small and sad.


Monogamy really is the last great taboo. It's the "perversion" that even self-identified "perverts" won't permit in others. It appears a common enough one, but the more "liberated" the standards become in a given area, the more restrictive they become. The trend strikes me as paradoxical, but perhaps the word "hegemonic" suffices to describe it, one group of people selling a second group of people down the river to get in good with a third group of people. (Political indignation does soften the stings somewhat.)


But I find myself so dreading a sacrifice of my integrity and of my authenticity that I don't even raise the issue. Do I really have to go to the Strip on weekends and get blitzed to bridge the gap? Would I have to do something that would make me deteriorate even more? It doesn't seem like this sort of thing would be regarded as incompatible with good health and healthy life. Or is it only okay when your "physician" signs off on it?

Caregiver Wanted. Hiring Now.

WANTED: Unpaid, live-in male caregiver. Work for overly dramatic employer/client who will have you on call 24/7, with your decision-making authority nonexistent at the same time you are held responsible for the well-being of the person in question. Obamacare gearing up to offer no checks on the situation. You will have no voice, you will be given no attention in the media, you will not even be able to list your activities on a resume. Career-ending opportunities exist. Come and fill the one role absolutely no one has discussed aloud in over 20 years of public debate over the American medical system, because, let's face it, there's nothing Americans love more than anonymous servitude as long as it is someone else's. Suckers please form a line to the left.

Once More, With Feeling

Every time a couple lies together,  the relationship starts anew. It begins again,  with the promise for their future overwhelming the caveats of their past.

Shireen

If you like Twitter, you might consider following Shireen Soussen. Her ID's are @thelastvirgo and @shireensoussen. She has a gift for short (sub-140 character) poetry, and the vagaries of love is one of her favorite topics.

MYSELF

When I wake up in the morning, I am myself. I am free from all restraints, all preconditions. I am the thing that a “society” should be engineered to protect. And I am all that I am. Specifically, I am awash in my sexuality, and the sexuality is not a factor to consider but a part of my identity. And I see no contradiction in writing about it.

When I first wake up, anything is possible. There is no fixity; everything is contingent. Then I remember where I am in history, and the sadness covers me. I cannot be the only one to see who I am, but I am not like most of you. I am different for a number of reasons.

I perceive a genuine break between me and the women I meet every day, every week (now it is not the “new day” but the “work week” that constructs my time spent). It is possible to have a lot of good fun and shared experience with someone who isn’t a lot like oneself, I can state from experience. But my personal growth has cost me a lot, including compromising my “career” badly. The most unforeseen consequence is that I AM NOT LIKE MOST OF YOU. I do not mean in a sense of differing opinions on topics of mutual interest. I mean that I went a different path coming out of school, and what I have come to understand has made me unlike the monoadult that this “society” seeks to produce.

I awake in the morning with something conceptual to share with all of you, perhaps not original but largely forgotten. (If it is derivative, I suggest, on a personal note, that understanding it at all has its merit.) But I am of the notion that there may be no one left capable of understanding my thoughts. If so, that means trouble for all of you as well, in a form you may not have suspected; read on.

I’ve carried this knowledge in me for some time. I’ve endured quite a few attacks, but the knowledge is sustained. It is what I would prefer to be discussing. But the necessities of life in “society” have forced me to concentrate my attention elsewhere. It has been an attrition war.

I don’t know what induces people to believe that a “sex advisor” should confine himself to discussions of gymnastics. Technique is key, but the real element of interest lies in the path to the bedroom and to what is constructed therein. The bedroom is itself a social milieu, and we spend our time there with different people over the course of our lives. We all transmit information in more ways than one while there, and we sometimes go back for a revisit with a previous confidant and draw upon what we have encountered since last checking in.

But that is only the beginning of what can be said to understand the matters at hand. Any number of epistemologies can be employed to approach this “rich data” (excuse me if I suppress a chuckle at this point: there’s no sexuality likek adolescent sexuality). Clinical psychology alone is not enough. Allopathic medicine is not enough. Making shit up isn’t enough. Most of all, the notion that there could be a “central authority,” a dispenser of canonical sex discourse, is untenable.

Foucault said that turning sexuality into a discourse was an attempt to suppress and control it. But I think he must have meant a canonical one. Certainly there had always been discusssion of the matter prior to his time (with the possible exceptions of the Victorian Age and the 1950’s). It is just that the discussion was decentralized and required no stamp of officiality. I want to suggest that he and I are on the same page in this respect.

There was writing about sex and sexuality as well. The writing was popular, it did sell, and it did not require a “governing body,” whether academic or legal in its scope, to hold forth on its merits. Books are pleasant in that they concede by their presence that they are not coercive: you can find them, finger them, and forget them, one after the other and without feeling the need to understand every one of them fully to feel you have benefitted from and enjoyed them. Intimacy with them is held always to a degree and not necessarily for more than a moment in every case, and one does not know going in how long the association will last. I hope my writing can be as satisfying to the reader in the future, and in the same way. You can, and will (if only implicitly), decide which books to remember and how well, and regardless of your decision, it is noted that a splendid time will have been had by all. I hope the analogy is not too heavy-handed.

Guest Author: Alyssa-Marie Pauline

Today we have a guest author: Alyssa-Marie Pauline from Portland, OR. I was surprised to discover this entry on her blog, as much of what this blog has been about has been the need for societal context to straighten itself out if love itself is to be preserved. I had been considering the reverse, the need for love to be preserved if society is to be overhauled substantially, and found more than one "independent confirmation" had surfaced in my world with the idea. Here is Alyssa-Marie's version:

What is Love? (Pass it along);

So I’d like to take a serious moment here (gasp, I know) - to speak my peace on a matter I feel very strongly about; Love. No, not the oy-he’s/she’s-so-fine-wanna-make-him/her-mine kind of love, & not the ‘honeymoon phase’-of-having-a-new-beau type of love either. The real thing; the love you hold that has no label to it, no strings attached. Just pure, straight from the soul, unconditioned, untainted love. Not sure what I’m getting at? Yeah, that’s the problem. In these times, love is a rarity. Some-THING many people cannot even grasp, because society has dealt love to be some generic concept. And just that, love is defined as some-thing, not simply as love. Allow me to elaborate, if you will;

Can anyone actually explain love? Even in the simplest of forms, say to a child - how would you define to them what love is? Think on that for a moment. What do you come up with? A lot of symbolic examples? Metaphors? An attempt at explaining an emotion? You might be saying, ‘Well, how else are you supposed to define love?’ — Aha - exactly my point. Defining love. Is there such? If you look up the word in the dictionary, it reads out that love is a strong emotion, a passionate affection, a personal attachment. But that’s merely an attempt to elaborate on some word. Again, we’re getting nowhere. Why? Because, my belief, Love is undefinable. It doesn’t need an explanation, or thousands of examples & metaphors. We don’t need to think on it. And we shouldn’t. Because love simply is.

If you’re to attach love to anything, make it an action. The small gesture of a smile to complete strangers, a compliment, a favor made (with no expectations), an honest remark to your friend (even if they won’t like what you have to say). Love isn’t a word to think about and define. Love is an awareness. Love is honesty. Love is happiness shared. Love is an action. And this is what we need in the world; naturally pure, non-judging, unlabeled, unconditional love.

So, I ask you to partake in this radical movement of mine. A love revolution. Where you don’t think on love, you do it. Start with yourself, your family & friends, then continue with neighbors and by-passers. Hold it in, pass it along.

*Radiate Love.*