(submitted to me by Trashi Lovequest, an incorrigible lover of boys)
I have drawn so much sustenance and inspiration from Janis Joplin(1), and particularly from her words of wisdom about love. She said that if one has love for only one day, for only one night, for only one afternoon or one hour, one has still really had love. She advised to believe in this love, fleeting as it is.
This love, this fleeting love of an afternoon, sometimes run through with sex, is/was real, and this was your love. This means something to, and is valuable to those of us whose love lives consist only in these fleeting moments, minutes, hours, afternoons, mornings, and nights of loves which, after the fact, leave us questioning their reality or legitimacy because they were so fleeting, so brief - because this person payed attention to us for a few hours, of a midnight.
"This was real, man," she said. (Janis 3:16)
And her word is now The Word.
She took my consciousness one stage further. An earlier stage in this consciousness was to recognize that this is what my love life consisted of - of encounters with boys who may or may not have cared, boys whom I loved and pined for after that afternoon we spent in bed, or biking in the country after a happenstance meeting. The stringing together of these moments had been a personal and ontic narrative for me, but I had not had the level of consciousness necessary to really call this my love, my love life until, in a moment, listening to the wisdom of Janis, I gained the courage to move to this next stage of love consciousness.
Even this level of consciousness, or this field of consciousness which is centered on the constitution of love is, I think, something inaccessible to heterosexuals, but something that gay and lesbian minds and hearts have a predisposition to find or invent, especially those of us who escape again and again from the traps of 'family values' and the pathology of family and its templates.
But then lately, even in my hearkening again and again to the sage's words about the validity of an afternoon encounter, of a midnight's debauchery, and my further realization that, not only were these encounters love affairs, but that their connection together in a string of experiences was my love life, really; even with her words of inspiration and wisdom in my mind, I began to want more, and began to have a new desire - a desire which seemed to run up against heteronormative ideas of love, and one which had to be extracted from them. (And isn't this all we have been relegated to as gay and lesbian persons - to an extraction of reality and of our true desire from their pathologies, their masturbation, their desperate frauds?).
This new desire was a desire begotten, yes, by wanting more, even in conditions which preclude the possibility of my getting more. This new desire is a desire to be fucked over by guys - to understand, to see, to convert this being fucked over into love. Hurt me. Use me. Step on me. Reject me. Walk all over me. Say that it was just sex. "Fuck me over." (I found myself saying this openly and out loud to one of my 'lovers' as I, lying on the floor, asked him to step on my head, and recently again I said it to my nineteen year old lover - my cries of "fuck me" became, in bed and out, cries of "fuck me over!" [later, in a more rational, calm mode I explained to him that he had already fucked me over, was fucking me over, and would fuck me over in the future]).
This, then, this being fucked over, used, taken advantage of, when there is nothing or little else, is love, and acquires a validity even despite its pathologized origins. There was love there, in these encounters, and their being taken together is my love life, a type of love life which is genuinely and thoroughly gay in that this type of love and this type of love life in the world of gay desire is validated, pursued, valued, and not denigrated and pathologized, as it is in heteronormative life.
This is love in the time before the Revolution - before the gay/lesbian/queer revolution, the time when it was/is still difficult to extract love from their self-deceptions, from their deceits, from their pathologies and social malignancies.
Do you understand?
Do you understand that "love will find a way,"(2), even in a false world of imposed interpretations?
Love is the foundation of the Revolution, but love cannot wait for the Revolution, for the epuration.
And I trust that you'll pardon my French.
T.L.
(1) "Writing begins with a dead woman" - Helene Cixous, in 'Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing'.
(2) "Love will find a way" - Modern Rocketry, in "Homosexuality".
I have drawn so much sustenance and inspiration from Janis Joplin(1), and particularly from her words of wisdom about love. She said that if one has love for only one day, for only one night, for only one afternoon or one hour, one has still really had love. She advised to believe in this love, fleeting as it is.
This love, this fleeting love of an afternoon, sometimes run through with sex, is/was real, and this was your love. This means something to, and is valuable to those of us whose love lives consist only in these fleeting moments, minutes, hours, afternoons, mornings, and nights of loves which, after the fact, leave us questioning their reality or legitimacy because they were so fleeting, so brief - because this person payed attention to us for a few hours, of a midnight.
"This was real, man," she said. (Janis 3:16)
And her word is now The Word.
She took my consciousness one stage further. An earlier stage in this consciousness was to recognize that this is what my love life consisted of - of encounters with boys who may or may not have cared, boys whom I loved and pined for after that afternoon we spent in bed, or biking in the country after a happenstance meeting. The stringing together of these moments had been a personal and ontic narrative for me, but I had not had the level of consciousness necessary to really call this my love, my love life until, in a moment, listening to the wisdom of Janis, I gained the courage to move to this next stage of love consciousness.
Even this level of consciousness, or this field of consciousness which is centered on the constitution of love is, I think, something inaccessible to heterosexuals, but something that gay and lesbian minds and hearts have a predisposition to find or invent, especially those of us who escape again and again from the traps of 'family values' and the pathology of family and its templates.
But then lately, even in my hearkening again and again to the sage's words about the validity of an afternoon encounter, of a midnight's debauchery, and my further realization that, not only were these encounters love affairs, but that their connection together in a string of experiences was my love life, really; even with her words of inspiration and wisdom in my mind, I began to want more, and began to have a new desire - a desire which seemed to run up against heteronormative ideas of love, and one which had to be extracted from them. (And isn't this all we have been relegated to as gay and lesbian persons - to an extraction of reality and of our true desire from their pathologies, their masturbation, their desperate frauds?).
This new desire was a desire begotten, yes, by wanting more, even in conditions which preclude the possibility of my getting more. This new desire is a desire to be fucked over by guys - to understand, to see, to convert this being fucked over into love. Hurt me. Use me. Step on me. Reject me. Walk all over me. Say that it was just sex. "Fuck me over." (I found myself saying this openly and out loud to one of my 'lovers' as I, lying on the floor, asked him to step on my head, and recently again I said it to my nineteen year old lover - my cries of "fuck me" became, in bed and out, cries of "fuck me over!" [later, in a more rational, calm mode I explained to him that he had already fucked me over, was fucking me over, and would fuck me over in the future]).
This, then, this being fucked over, used, taken advantage of, when there is nothing or little else, is love, and acquires a validity even despite its pathologized origins. There was love there, in these encounters, and their being taken together is my love life, a type of love life which is genuinely and thoroughly gay in that this type of love and this type of love life in the world of gay desire is validated, pursued, valued, and not denigrated and pathologized, as it is in heteronormative life.
This is love in the time before the Revolution - before the gay/lesbian/queer revolution, the time when it was/is still difficult to extract love from their self-deceptions, from their deceits, from their pathologies and social malignancies.
Do you understand?
Do you understand that "love will find a way,"(2), even in a false world of imposed interpretations?
Love is the foundation of the Revolution, but love cannot wait for the Revolution, for the epuration.
And I trust that you'll pardon my French.
T.L.
(1) "Writing begins with a dead woman" - Helene Cixous, in 'Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing'.
(2) "Love will find a way" - Modern Rocketry, in "Homosexuality".