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kitchen_kinkIt's nights like this that I'm proud to be an American. Or something.
Tonight, my beloved![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
imlad and I kept to a tradition we'd been exercising for a few years. We have these friends who live in Beacon Hill, and from the rooftop of their apartment building, you get a spectacular view of Boston's fireworks display.
Now these friends are peopleimlad knew before he met me. That is, well, they're mundanes. Mind you, they're awesome mundanes. Smart, funny, interesting people, into ancient Greece and modern art, who invite people over who are usually the same sorts of mundanes. We are, in a sense, their pet freaks, and we enjoy being so, and now and then we meet people there who look like they could be pushed over the edge with a feather.
This time, though, the gathering was smaller. Our favorite couple there was now a single, the wife having split and moved to Atlanta. The cooler people we'd met in the past were absent. Our host's busybody older sister and her obnoxious husband were there. We had some chit chat and some nice food, and then headed up to the roof to await the fireworks display.
All around were the other denizens of the building, most of whom seemed to be young and annoying, the types who yell inane things like "YEAH baby! DO it!" every time a big firework explodes. And as I sat and waited for the festivities to begin, I realized a profound truth that doesn't often occur to me anymore in my life: I was bored.
I had spent the afternoon surrounded by people I know and love. My people; my community. I'm very lucky to spend so much time in their embrace, enveloped in their love, sharing food and booze and touch and watching their kids run around underfoot. I don't think I express my gratitude often enough for the fact that, essentially, I'm shielded from the world by a different, smaller world that is being created, day by day, by the awesome people who surround me.
And here I was, on a rooftop in Beacon Hill, surrounded by the kind of people who would bring a television out onto a roofdeck so as, presumably, to watch the fireworks on television and in real life at the same time.
As if to make the final point, the fireworks began. And while at first they were very lovely as always, as the show went on, it began to generate so much smoke that eventually the fireworks couldn't be seen at all. The finale was a series of degenerate booms ringing out over a cheering crowd, who were probably actually crying out their dying breaths before they asphyxiated. Even the one thing that seemed like a guaranteed good time failed us this year, the spectacle we'd come for literally lost in a puff of smoke.
We flowed down the stairs and flopped on the couch, where we watched the post-processing on the local news while we waited out the first wave of people leaving the Esplanade. After a hyper-cheery report on the just-finished fireworks display, which apparently thrilled everyone to death (maybe literally) in spite of the fact that nobody could see it, the news did an editorial piece on why people in Massachusetts are really patriotic, in spite of the fact that Massachusetts is one of the bluest states in the nation.
Let me just say that again so it sinks in.
Even though Massachusetts is a really blue state, its citizens love celebrating their patriotism!
Because we all know that liberals and Democrats hate America.
So this was the idea of the report. The substance? Showing the happy people gathered on the Esplanade in front of the Hatch Shell, bedecked with styrofoam Liberty spikes and waving the American flag, smiling empty, vapid smiles while listening to the Pops grind out Tchaikovsky for the nth time (a tune, by the way, commemorating Russia's defeat of Napoleon in 1812, not our defeat of the British) while fireworks explode over their heads (or at least that's what it sounded like). Then, showing people in other cities, protesting the government's actions! Gasp! Horrors! People who disagree with the government!
How unpatriotic. Juxtapose that with a heartwarming story about a father and son who just came home from serving in Iraq together (they're so proud), and there's your dose of news for the night.
By this point I was so depressed I started to fall asleep, so we said our goodbyes and walked out onto the street, where a sinister police helicopter was circling, shining a searchlight into the alleys below. Streetlights flashed and the sidewalks swarmed with happy patriots trying to return to their homes. Outside of the Charles MGH station, these masses stood, waiting for the armed guards to let them pass in groups into the station.
Yes, really.
On the train home, my feet aching, I stood listening to the conversations around me. A loud man behind me said, "That's your problem, you're so negative about everything. That's why I hate my family. I hate them, because they're always so negative about everything, you know?!"
Do people even listen to what comes out of their mouths?
I don't have broadcast TV at home. The local news is telling people that dissent is unpatriotic, that they should be afraid to walk the streets at night, that being an American is about war and triumph and F15 flyovers and not about what freedom actually means. The circus we go through every year at the Hatch Shell celebrates all of that, and decides that the Raging Grannies in Portland Oregon or wherever are a bunch of commies who hate America.
And a 16-year-old looking kid stands outside the closing doors of a train and says, to someone safely crammed inside the car, "I'll kill you. I swear it. If I see you around, I'll kill you." I watch his dead eyes, flickering cold blue light like TV screens, as the train pulls painfully out of the station.
Back in Davis Square we meet somebody we know almost instantly; she comments onimlad's kilt as we mount the escalator. On the brick-lined street, a passing kid is singing "Holiday in Cambodia."
At last we're home, and I feel again the tenuousness of my position, the baby-fine but strong filament on which I soar in love. Those threads that weave themselves over me and my loved ones, in a web that I wish weren't necessary.
But it is. Because every time I venture into the larger world I'm reminded of one of the things that depresses me, and that I so wish weren't true: the vast majority of people are sheep. Docile, stupid, reactionary, ugly, greedy, empty-eyed consumers fueled by beer and fear. They're living the American nightmare. And only a very few will awaken in their lifetimes.
As we rounded the last corner to our house, a bumper sticker on a parked car caught my eye. Incongruously but piercingly, it said only, "Sift."
Tonight, my beloved
imlad and I kept to a tradition we'd been exercising for a few years. We have these friends who live in Beacon Hill, and from the rooftop of their apartment building, you get a spectacular view of Boston's fireworks display.Now these friends are people
imlad knew before he met me. That is, well, they're mundanes. Mind you, they're awesome mundanes. Smart, funny, interesting people, into ancient Greece and modern art, who invite people over who are usually the same sorts of mundanes. We are, in a sense, their pet freaks, and we enjoy being so, and now and then we meet people there who look like they could be pushed over the edge with a feather.This time, though, the gathering was smaller. Our favorite couple there was now a single, the wife having split and moved to Atlanta. The cooler people we'd met in the past were absent. Our host's busybody older sister and her obnoxious husband were there. We had some chit chat and some nice food, and then headed up to the roof to await the fireworks display.
All around were the other denizens of the building, most of whom seemed to be young and annoying, the types who yell inane things like "YEAH baby! DO it!" every time a big firework explodes. And as I sat and waited for the festivities to begin, I realized a profound truth that doesn't often occur to me anymore in my life: I was bored.
I had spent the afternoon surrounded by people I know and love. My people; my community. I'm very lucky to spend so much time in their embrace, enveloped in their love, sharing food and booze and touch and watching their kids run around underfoot. I don't think I express my gratitude often enough for the fact that, essentially, I'm shielded from the world by a different, smaller world that is being created, day by day, by the awesome people who surround me.
And here I was, on a rooftop in Beacon Hill, surrounded by the kind of people who would bring a television out onto a roofdeck so as, presumably, to watch the fireworks on television and in real life at the same time.
As if to make the final point, the fireworks began. And while at first they were very lovely as always, as the show went on, it began to generate so much smoke that eventually the fireworks couldn't be seen at all. The finale was a series of degenerate booms ringing out over a cheering crowd, who were probably actually crying out their dying breaths before they asphyxiated. Even the one thing that seemed like a guaranteed good time failed us this year, the spectacle we'd come for literally lost in a puff of smoke.
We flowed down the stairs and flopped on the couch, where we watched the post-processing on the local news while we waited out the first wave of people leaving the Esplanade. After a hyper-cheery report on the just-finished fireworks display, which apparently thrilled everyone to death (maybe literally) in spite of the fact that nobody could see it, the news did an editorial piece on why people in Massachusetts are really patriotic, in spite of the fact that Massachusetts is one of the bluest states in the nation.
Let me just say that again so it sinks in.
Even though Massachusetts is a really blue state, its citizens love celebrating their patriotism!
Because we all know that liberals and Democrats hate America.
So this was the idea of the report. The substance? Showing the happy people gathered on the Esplanade in front of the Hatch Shell, bedecked with styrofoam Liberty spikes and waving the American flag, smiling empty, vapid smiles while listening to the Pops grind out Tchaikovsky for the nth time (a tune, by the way, commemorating Russia's defeat of Napoleon in 1812, not our defeat of the British) while fireworks explode over their heads (or at least that's what it sounded like). Then, showing people in other cities, protesting the government's actions! Gasp! Horrors! People who disagree with the government!
How unpatriotic. Juxtapose that with a heartwarming story about a father and son who just came home from serving in Iraq together (they're so proud), and there's your dose of news for the night.
By this point I was so depressed I started to fall asleep, so we said our goodbyes and walked out onto the street, where a sinister police helicopter was circling, shining a searchlight into the alleys below. Streetlights flashed and the sidewalks swarmed with happy patriots trying to return to their homes. Outside of the Charles MGH station, these masses stood, waiting for the armed guards to let them pass in groups into the station.
Yes, really.
On the train home, my feet aching, I stood listening to the conversations around me. A loud man behind me said, "That's your problem, you're so negative about everything. That's why I hate my family. I hate them, because they're always so negative about everything, you know?!"
Do people even listen to what comes out of their mouths?
I don't have broadcast TV at home. The local news is telling people that dissent is unpatriotic, that they should be afraid to walk the streets at night, that being an American is about war and triumph and F15 flyovers and not about what freedom actually means. The circus we go through every year at the Hatch Shell celebrates all of that, and decides that the Raging Grannies in Portland Oregon or wherever are a bunch of commies who hate America.
And a 16-year-old looking kid stands outside the closing doors of a train and says, to someone safely crammed inside the car, "I'll kill you. I swear it. If I see you around, I'll kill you." I watch his dead eyes, flickering cold blue light like TV screens, as the train pulls painfully out of the station.
Back in Davis Square we meet somebody we know almost instantly; she comments on
imlad's kilt as we mount the escalator. On the brick-lined street, a passing kid is singing "Holiday in Cambodia."At last we're home, and I feel again the tenuousness of my position, the baby-fine but strong filament on which I soar in love. Those threads that weave themselves over me and my loved ones, in a web that I wish weren't necessary.
But it is. Because every time I venture into the larger world I'm reminded of one of the things that depresses me, and that I so wish weren't true: the vast majority of people are sheep. Docile, stupid, reactionary, ugly, greedy, empty-eyed consumers fueled by beer and fear. They're living the American nightmare. And only a very few will awaken in their lifetimes.
As we rounded the last corner to our house, a bumper sticker on a parked car caught my eye. Incongruously but piercingly, it said only, "Sift."
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Re: Musings from the former other half of entrope
Date: 2008-07-06 02:55 pm (UTC)My friend
What I do know is that there is, in fact, a majority culture - the image of the American dream sold to us by the media and the government. Each person decides to what degree he or she is going to buy into that culture. And my observation, from my experience, is that the more someone blindly buys into it, the less I can relate to them. And the less someone forges his or her own path, the more likely (I observe) that person is to be anything from blandly complacent to vaguely dissatisfied to seethingly repressed.
I know that no matter how I put this, I'm going to sound judgmental. But from my perspective, I see people like this - people who are going along with the Bush Administration's ideas, or who live in suburban gated communities and think that God is on our side in Iraq (again, stereotypical examples, but stay with me) - are the people who could take my poly friends' kids away because of their perceived immorality (this has happened), or who don't want my gay friends to be allowed to have the same legal rights as other married couples, or who would rather have the perceived safety of illegal wiretaps and searches of our library records than have our privacy respected.
I know I probably sound vitriolic, but I feel more and more that we're living under a quasi-fascist regime, and it is the majority that allows things like that to happen in ostensibly free societies. I don't judge you or anyone for being straight or monogamous or having a corporate job or even driving an SUV. But yes, I do judge people for blindly going along with a status quo that is repressive, not just of sexuality, but of individuality, and of dissent.
I agree with you that every individual deserves a chance to prove him or herself. But I think it always behooves one to remember that a person is always smarter than "the people." What I saw on the night of the 4th was not each person's hopes and dreams and no doubt highly variant levels of self-awareness. I saw mob behavior and the police control that goes along with it. And that, I think legitimately, scares me.
Re: Musings from the former other half of entrope
Date: 2008-07-06 05:03 pm (UTC)A few quick points:
a) I am in no way upset with you, nor do I consider us to be in conflict. I have some problems with the way that you stated your position, and I'm trying to clarify both what you were intending to say and what it was that bothered me about how you said it. It's an opportunity for me to reflect on my own processes of perceiving and conceptualizing people far more than a criticism of the way you do it.
b) You don't sound in the least vitriolic. And I hope you don't feel vitriolic. As I said, I had a very strong reaction to the initial post, and spent a couple of hours revising my initial response (which really was out of line). To the extent that you've made an effort to appear fair and calm, and to be addressing my points rather than being either defensive or attacking, I'd say you're completely succeeding - which is one of the reasons I'd like to continue the conversation, but only when/if I have time to communicate as clearly and coherently as you have been doing.
c) I think there are a few things that bothered me about the initial post - and I don't know if any of them are things you intended as opposed to things I inferred based on your choice of language:
1) The way you described the people watching the fireworks sounded like you were making a lot of assumptions based on their external appearance. Just because someone is watching the fireworks (as you were) doesn't mean they like Survivor or voted for Bush, or are mundane. I know a lot of people who were on the Esplanade Friday night; many of them queer or poly or into kink - it's possible that you spotted one or more of them and grouped them with all the other "sheep" you saw.
2) This last comment has an undercurrent (which I agree with, and which saddens me, as it saddens you) of "It messed up that
our society, and group psychology, can prevent people from seeing all the choices available to them." The initial post sounded more like "These people are inferior to be because they've made different choices than I have."
3) You mention your concern about those "who would judge people like me and others I love simply because of the choices we make which seem so frightening and threatening to the status quo." But nobody watching the fireworks was judging you - they probably didn't even see or notice you. Yet you were judging them, despite the fact that their choices (to watch the fireworks, or to listen to Britney Spears, or to wear lots of Tommy Hilfiger) don't really impact you in any way.
It seems to me that you were projecting on the crowd watching the fireworks, a lot of frustration you feel about things in our society, which are - in fact - very fucked up. But if you start trying to find groups of others to blame these things on, you're starting down a slippery slope. I like to think that we on the left (i.e., the people who are correct about things :-) can view individuals more clearly than the people on the right who blithely blame teenage immigrant welfare mothers on dope for all the problems in the world.
I'm probably not going to be able to contribute any more to this conversation until after I return on the 14th. I'll read any response you post, but please don't think I'm blowing you off if I don't answer it.
Re: Musings from the former other half of entrope
Date: 2008-07-06 06:21 pm (UTC)It's part of my work to figure out how to walk the line as a freak in this world without becoming self-righteous and intolerant, without removing myself completely from the rest of the world. Part of my reaction was my own fear that I'm getting farther and farther from being able to enjoy time with people not in my social circle; that I'm getting so outside the mainstream that I feel like a space alien most of the time.
I've been doing a lot of work lately on being more permeable. Unfortunately, I've always been overly sensitive, and so I tend to swing between shielding too much and letting too much in. My goal is ultimately to have boundaries like a cell membrane: permeable to exactly the right things; decisively closed to those things that would harm me.
I'm also starting to get the sense that this needs to be another post. :) See you when you're back.