Just to note that Radical Fun 2.0 is happening this Friday. As in, two days from now.

I'm picking classes, with all the attendant joys thereof. Whoever designed Yale's system is a jerk.

-sly

The following is a largely unedited rant, which may or may not make any damn sense.

I realize that I have been struggling to conform my observations with my desire for a just world. Sitting in the vaguely clinical office of my analyst, I recall saying that I did not want to live in a world where such things could happen.

This can be parsed two ways. The first is denial. The other is suicide.

I did not make this world. And I did not ask for it to be this way. And yet it is. Flawed. Troubled. Fucked.

I keep asking what comes next. One of my friends asked why I kept putting provebial bandaids on a deep wound.

I tend to think that I am less of a doctor than I am an artist. So what if my chosen medium is band-aid sculpture? I never claimed to be able to a surgeon. And when none are around, is it so bad to just get creative?

I am coming to see my own inadequacy as a neutral reality. There are the delusions of grandeur, when I see myself on the big screen…valiantly giving my last breath in the name of all things good. And there is the seduction of powerlessness, when at last, "at His feet, they lay their golden crowns." Revelations, as sung by Johnny Cash has carried me in times of trouble with a vision of a world that I cannot possibly harm.

What would be so terrible if I did make a mistake? If the world is going to hell in a handbasket, why not fight? When you have the chance to truely will something better, why be content with mere speculation?

My growing apocalypticism has not left me resigned. The reality of a troubled world and a rapidly foreclosing future gives all the more reason to fail, and to fail beautifully. My hope is a brutal one, intolerant of optimism that exceeds determination, fatalism that outstrips the need to rest. But I insist that it must be one that believes in wonder and awe.

For what would it profit one to gain the whole world, and lose your own soul? If you are in the right mood play onine casino games, such as online blackjack.

-sly civilian

I'm still alive. Still writing, too.

I'd love to post something, but my brain is seven and a half shades of fried right now.

Sorry,

-sly

I'm still stuck in paper writing mode, and so i don't think i ought to be writing here. Which is in some ways unfortunate, since the whole Ashley Treatment thing needs a good whack. It's flat out disturbing to see this actually escalate to a fight. That would usually imply that both sides have a defensible position.

A child is not a bonzai tree.

The disabled are not prunable for the purpose of making them easier to deal with. We know where that one ends.

But instead of actually writing something of substance, I'm listening to a bunch of mopey ass music, and trying to write this paper.

-sly

Yes, it's that time again. Sly is back, and better than ever. I'll spare y'all the details, but Sly has had a rough time of it for the last couple weeks. And I don't think I'm alone in that. So it's high time to kick back, take a moment for rest, hold off on the blood, sweat and tears…and as my Patron Saint of Dorkdom said, hold fast to what is good.

Therefore, be it resolved that January 19th, befittingly a Friday shall be Radical Fun Day.

Posts are welcomed for submission on any and all topics as they relate to joy, laughter, smiles, dancing, sunshine, food, sex, art, family, beer, travel, home, love, and most of all, fun.

As in many things, I owe a deep debt to brownfemipower, my totally top secret haven't told a soul blog crush. For it is she who created the most marvelous first Blog for Radical Fun Day, and for more fun play casino games!

Let love be genuine,

-sly

I do not think it means what you think it means.

I'm still trying to polish off a paper here and catch my breath, but I can't resist some good asshattery.

"Violence has always been with us. It's been with us since Cain slew Abel. But we've always recognized violence as a vice and not as a virtue."

That's Jack Thompson, professional idiot, spouting off about video game violence.

Virtu. That wouldn't be the latin for the height of Roman manliness, would it? And that wouldn't have anything to do with violence. Especially not violence as entertainment.

You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

-sly

"Is your mother a whore?"

What? I'm not saying she's a whore. I'm just wondering out loud if she is a whore. All I'm saying is that reasonable people who have banged your mother for money can disagree.

-Jon Stewart, The Daily Show.

Y'all have caught me in a very bad mood. I'm taking a couple days.

-sly

The word, of course, being "queer."

I've been getting this reaction, or some variation thereof, when discussing idenity politics with folks at Yale. And my response so far has been to try to explain the politics of reclaimation in gltbq communities, and how they might differ from the use of say, racialized language (Hi, Kramer!). I get a little frustrated that there's still this weird aura around discussion of queer issues, the one that loves to talk about mawwidge equality and how terrible those bigots are, but gets squeamish if the discussion turns to broader topics. I don't just mean "sex" and i'm a big beleiver that intrusive discussions of sex are not cool. But talking about the other intersections of queerness with political and social life often gives the hint that some of us aren't in it for the Het Norm, and may not think that state sanction is the be all end all. So what about these identities that don't map back onto heterized Alisa and Eve or Adam and Steve?*

If you have a problem using the language that I have chosen to use to describe myself, I have a request. Do not erase that choice by using language that I reject. Do not compromise your own conscience.

Repeat after me.

"Name, who self-identifies as queer, whatever you were planning on saying that I hope are nice things that intelligently reflect upon the nature of queer idenity…"**

This places the contest of language back into queer communities, and absolves the speaker of anything beyond the courtesy of describing a person as they have sought to be described. It's up to us to create Queerdom, since it's a lovely and fictitious place anyhow. The only real grievance I have here can't be with the fact that some folks don't like saying the word queer. It's a word with plenty of ugly history to it, so I have been deliberate about choosing it despite that. I still twitch at "fag," and I know plenty of good folks who use that. So the problem came down to feeling like some people were, because of issues of language with varying causes, were simply bypassing the whole deal. It's their prerogative to determine their relationship with queerdom, the language thereof, and how they fit into the wider picture of how values, cultures and politics get expressed through sexual and gender idenity.

As long as they are calling people by the names that they have chosen.

-sly

* Heterize - Verb. To apply "traditional" standards and mores to queer cultures, and make them "just like us." Also, the conflation of middle class white values with the "real" nature of homosexuality that emerges as repression recedes. Example: The Party Boy and Butch Dyke are both stereotypes that scare Het Folks into giving queer people rights in the hope that they will heterize themselves.

** This generally doesn't work for personal pronouns. Verbally marking them off tends to be the linguistic version of airquotes in that situation. Reserve this for language that you have a problem with as a whole, not just applying to an individual. I'm willing to bet you say "she" or "his" all the time. A recommended site can be found here - casino français and here - casino and - casino bonus.