Just Another Day in Gay Heaven

The corner of Castro and Market mid-afternoon, a bright, sunny day in...

 Well, who knows?  In Gay Heaven, every day is the best day of your life, every moment is the best of all possible moments.  Even bad things, like getting dumped by a boyfriend, are the best of all possible bad things, because they are taking place here.   So who bothers to look at the calendar?   There is no yesterday to regret or tomorrow to look forward to, just an endless succession of  "today."

Not that it's constant joy, like the Nazarenes told us heaven would be like.  You are too busy with the rhythms of everyday life to stop and think about feeling anything. 

And there's a lot of pressure.  You are a representative of a thousand gay men who long for the peace and freedom of Gay Heaven, but lack the resources to come, so you must keep constantly moving, constantly busy.  Dates, house parties, sex parties, and cruising, of course, but more than that. 

Out in the howling homophobic wilderness, they can get only a few occasional glimmers of gay culture, so you must live for them, rushing to club meetings, church services, fundraisers, art exhibits, book signings, film festivals,  trivia contests...the list is endless, two or three events on your calendar every night.  You leave the house at 7:00 am and return at 11:00 pm. A night home alone is a luxury to be dreamed of.

You cross 17th Street, which meets Castro here in a rash of streetcar cables.  Orphan Andy's and the Twin Peaks Tavern are on your left.  You walk south, past the Castro Theater, Almost Home, Thai Thai.  Some bars are already open, al fresco, with leather-clad men inside.  This is before the Castro became openly gay, so there are no gay monuments, no Harvey Milk memorial, no rainbow sidewalks.  You know it is gay heaven because there are no women or straight men on the street.  You are surrounded, on all sides, by brothers.

Everyone you see, everyone you know, everyone you spoke to today and will speak to tomorrow, is a gay man.  Varied, certainly, all sizes and shapes, personalities, and passions, football fans and birdwatchers, drag queens and leathermen, Buddhist monks and Episcopal priests, but all gay men.

And all connected in erotic and romantic links that extend across time and space.  You never meet anyone for the first time: everyone is the ex-boyfriend of an ex-boyfriend, the roommate of a guy you dated last month, or the ex-boyfriend of the roommate of the guy whose party you attended last month.  You, or someone you know, has gone down on him;or you will someday soon.

Life in Gay Heaven is exhausting and frightfully expensive.  You rarely see anyone under 30 -- they simply can't afford it -- or over 60 -- they can't keep up with the breakneck pace.   And the streets are full of people who tried it and failed.  There are homeless people everywhere, sleeping under blankets in doorways, sitting in groups on the sidewalk, waving their cans around and chanting "Any change? Any change?  Any change?"

Or they cope with the pressure through alcohol and drugs.  San Francisco has the highest rate of illegal drug use in the country.  Methamphetamine, cocaine, and heroin are surprisingly common.

Or they become overwhelmed with the availability of sex, and do nothing else, living in a blur of sex parties and street cruising, barebacking, rimming, forgetting to use condoms, being exposed to HIV

Ursula K. Leguin wrote a story, "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas," about a city where everyone experiences infinite joy and peace, but their joy is dependent on the constant suffering of a child.

Sometimes you wonder if the joy of living in Gay Heaven is dependent on the suffering of others.

Then you check tonight's events: a beer bust at the Eagle, a sex party South of Market, a book signing at the Different Light, an AIDS Benefit at Twin Peaks, and your friend Manuel is having a dinner party.

Just another day in Gay Heaven.

"Dude, Math Class Sucks": The Slur Behind the Phrase

It's commonplace in our society to use the phrase "It sucks" to indicate that something is ineffective, useless, boring, ignorant, or just plain bad.

Why would you want to insult your job, your math class, an activity, or a tv show by stating that it draws air or liquid into an opening by forming a partial vacuum?

How could they even do that?  And if they could, what's the problem?  Why is that especially bad?

It's an expansion of the derogatory term used for people: "He sucks."

Same question: why does drawing air or liquid into your mouth by forming a partial vacuum make you a bad person?

The Urban Dictionary claims that it from comes from jazz musicians, who would blow their horn to make music.  If they were inept, they would suck instead of blow.  Thus, "They suck."

That's bull.

We all know what it really means, but in case you need a reminder, sometimes the phrase is expanded to "cocksucker."

It means that you are a bottom for oral sex.

Why would that form of sex be deemed so reprehensible?

Women do it to hetero men, and of course hetero men find women reprehensible.

When gay men do it, it makes them "like women," and of course hetero men find that even more reprehensible.   How could someone with a penis demean himself like that?

Of course, you're probably not thinking of it in that way.  You're using it as a general expression of distaste, just like we might call someone a "motherf*er" without implying that they actually have sex with their mother.  We're trying to imply a similar level of wrongdoing.

So when you say "Math class sucks," you don't mean that it actually behaves like a gay man; you mean that it is as reprehensible as a gay man who engages in oral sex.

Thus insulting every guy who has ever gone down on you, and insulting yourself, if you have ever gone down on a guy.