This was written yesterday night. The crisis is finally over and I have been able to switch off my TV.
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I can't seem to tear myself away from the TV for the past forty eight hours. I want to look away, I want to sleep, but I can't. I just look. In horror and morbid amazement.

It's not that there haven't been terrorist attacks before. There have been. Like a lot of other people, I felt angry for a day, talked about bombing a country or two and moved on. Because that's what we are supposed to do. Move on. Human spirit is supposed to triumph over everything.

But today, as I see the Taj burning, I don't want to move on. I want to remain angry. I cannot switch off the television. I cannot bring myself to talk about anything else. I cannot even think about anything else. Everything seems so insignificant.

Today, like those innocent people killed by those miserable scums, a part of me had died too. Yet, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

I wonder why those innocent people had to die? What was their fault? Is this what our world has come to? To think that a lot of them were just there to have a meal. To celebrate a wedding. To celebrate a promotion. To toast new business partners. To get a taste of an exotic country.

Has all this what our life has come to? Having a meal is now dangerous?

What about those people whose house was taken over? Even sitting in your own house is not safe anymore?

I want to feel different. I want to feel safe. I want to talk about the frivolous side of life. I don't want to think "What the.." every time a hear a firecracker going off. I want to order new books online and then wait for them to be delivered with childlike anticipation. I want to be able to see something besides the news. I want to worry about the life of my favorite character on Brothers & Sisters. I want to keep refreshing my the frontpage of my blog to read everybody's comments with a little glee. Yet, today none of these things matter.


Maybe I will feel all those things again. Maybe, when this is over, I will finally be able to touch the power button on the remote and switch of visuals of a horrid nightmare which my mind has not still been able to process.


But I won't forget the sacrifices of the brave men and women who gave up their life so that other people could live. I will not forget the sacrifices of the general who thought it better to lead from the front than bark instructions from the back. I will not forget the bravado of ordinary men and women in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

Yet, it doesn't matter.

My heart goes out to all those who have lost their loved ones. To them, all this is words. To them, tonight, nothing matters.

Maybe now we need to wake up and do something while we can.

Otherwise, one day, we won't be able to.

Maybe, right now, even that does not matter.

Fun fact for today: Gay men are not accesories

Now, some of you already know this, by virtue of being Gay men or by having a slightly more evolved brain than the common house rat. However, some people seem not to be aware of this fact.

This article in Outlook which defines the relationships between gay men and straight women as "the need for straight women to have a man to take along shopping because their husbands and boyfriends refuse to do so".

It's such a stereotypical article, right down to the picture of a token gay writer and his female friend.

Here is a newsflash for the reject Dostana script writers Outlook calls staff reporters: Gay men are not something you carry around like a handbag made of alligator skin. We're not all about , "differentiating between forty different shades of brown" as you say. I only know one person who can do that, and even he can only tell the difference between a maximum of three different shades of brown. (Am I right, Pepe?).

Also, I can't speak for other people, but me and my hag have a friendship based on something much deeper than some superficial reason. We're friends because both of us are more intelligent and much better suited to run the world than other, lesser mortals. And both of us hate shopping like it's the plague. Although, our collective book collections could fill an Olympic sized stadium. And before you go out on a limb, ask us, and end up wetting yourself, we don't lend. Nothing personal, we're just very cheap and uptight.

Also, from what I know, even Will & Grace, which seems to be your source of knowledge about the gay universe, have a much deeper relationship than the convoluted logic that "a gay friend also keeps women safe from other predatory males". Excuse me, these women live in India. Even the secret service couldn't keep them away from "predatory males" (aka husbands).

And FYI, the only gay people who get girl talk are a special interest group.


They are called Lesbians.

--Tada--


Now please excuse me while I search for a lonely, fat, straight woman who looks at issues through the same "emotional eyeglasses". Cause, those big, large eyeglasses are just so 2007.

Does everything have to have a point?

So I got an email a few days ago from "that" site. It said that I haven't used it for about four months and they were wondering if I forgot my password. I know, I know. I am to blame for not trying and blah blah. That's not the point right now. It's that I wonder if I can ever get over myself long enough to actually try to find someone, and if by some divine miracle I do, I just wish I don't get turned off because he starts every second sentence with the word basically or thinks that being a vegetarian will slow down global warming.

Yes, I have issues. Lots of them. Duh.

Which, by the way, is another fear. That when I actually let someone in, he'll find out how neurotic and fucked up I am and run as fast a gay person used to run in biblical times when he was being chased by a congregation of catholics waiting to stone him.

In fact, my life right now is like a Merchant-Ivory film. Everybody is in their own self-imposed misery and the fat guy never gets laid.

****

I'm really going to print out a big sign which says "I don't work right now. Ask me why and I'll kill you and get an alibi". People need to stop thinking their Oprah. Some people just don't get it. I mean, if looking through a person while they are almost choking to death on a piece of sushi doesn't get the message through, I don't know what will.

****

Remember when I was in a funk and had nothing to say? The voices in my head have still not returned. I kind of miss a few of them. Specially Victor. He always made me feel that there is something on my shirt which is making me look funny which in turn is causing everybody to point and laugh at me.

Again, Issues. Clusterfucked brain. Crazy.


Run, baby, run.

You knew this was coming . . .

I promised myself that I wouldn't be cynical and not react to the bigotry of the retarded polygamist Jesus freaks who helped in the successful passing of Proposition 8. Then I realized that I am a very petty and cynical person. So here goes:


Dear People who voted Yes on Proposition 8:

What I do know for a fact is, being aligned with Satan and all since I'm gay, is that when the "end of days" finally comes, your fearless leader, Wassila Wackjob Sarah Palin, is going to sell out your secret location for a double mooseburger. So, be afraid. Be very afraid.

Dear American Media,

Before you pat your own back and paint yourself as a "progressive" nation and all, keep in mind that South Africa had a black President before you did. They also have Gay Marriage. So South Africa has more equality. Uh-oh.

Dear Democrats,

Grow a pair for once in your life do the right thing for the LGBT community. You have the triple crown. Use it for something good before one of you gets a blow job from some fat woman and you hand the world back into the hands of the people who want to make out with Joe the Plumber in airport washrooms. (Ugggh).

Dear Rest of the world,

Get a fucking life and try to concentrate on your own elections. Geez.

Bringing you news which no one else does

Although by now we all are familiar with Proposition 8 and our stand on it, there are other lesser known propositions on the ballot which do not garner the same attention.

Proposition No, Hoff, No - This proposition makes it illegal for David Hasselhoff to appear in public without his shirt ever again.

Proposition 90210 - This proposition prohibits any further remakes of series originally broadcast in the last century.

Proposition Palin - This proposition requires a that a person nominated for the vice president of the United States be at least smarter than a fifth grader.

Proposition Can we talk about something else now - This proposition requires the people of the United States of America to recognize that it should not take two years for an election. It's not that you can't do short elections. American Idol, anyone? A sub-note of this proposition requires certain bloggers to stop making stupid election jokes in their posts and try to do something a little more constructive with their lives.

Proposition Blubber - This proposition requires people around the world to recognize that double chins and fat stomachs are sexy too. It also requires hot, six pack surfer hunks to date at least three fat people per year. In fact, usually, I am very careful about espousing my opinion, however, I put all my weight behind this initiative.

Proposition Shave that mustache, woman - This proposition requires women to keep their facial hair out of public purview cause ewwww. Unless of course you're a bearded lady at a gypsy fair.

Proposition People who wear magic underwear cannot make rules for other people - This proposition recognizes that it's hard to take people seriously when they beleive in the story of the serpent and the poisoned apple. Instead of spending all that money to prevent two guys from doin' it, get some help for your neurological disorder you call a religion. You know the last guy who interpreted the Bible to mean that certain people do not deserve equal rights? He was called Hitler. And we all know how well that turned out.