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07 July 2008 @ 08:32 pm
To put it country simple, Earth has a lot of things other folks might want...
Like the whole planet.
And maybe these folks would like a few changes made...
Like more carbon dioxide in the atmosphere...
And room for their way of life.

We've seen this happen before, right in these United States.
Your way of life destroyed the Indian's way of life.
You gave them reservations, didn't you?

But my own position is ticklish:
I'm with the invaders, no use trying to hide that.
And at the same, I disagree with some of the things they are doing.

Oh, we're not united anymore than you are.
Oh, we're not united anymore than you are.

Conservative faction is set on nuclear war as the solution to the, uh,
"personnel problem"; others disagree.

Others disagree.
Others disagree.

I don't claim that my motives are one hundred percent humane.
But I do say, if we can't think up anything quieter and tidier than that...

We aren't all that much better than you Earthlings.

There is no place else to go
The theater is closed

There is no place else to go
The theater is closed

Cut word lines
Cut music lines
Smash the control images
Smash the control machine.

-- Wm S. Burroughs

Lucky me, I rated a church invite. I must be a real heretic now. Thanks, Lynie! XD

Shades of religiosity, actually, would define this day. I woke up just this side of being late for work this morning, but once I got there, there wasn't anything much to do, so I read a few chapters this new book that I got from the paperbackswap, "With God on Our Side", about the rise of the religious wrong in America. It was actually quite enlightening, in a scary, maddening sort of way. Mostly, it's a collection of Christianity embarrassments, like textbook attacks, protest against decent sex ed classes, racism and segregation as promoted by Protestants, and the like. After work, one of the overly well-meaning sorts from my aunt and uncle's church stopped by and delivered some books for me. One, called "Witch Hunt", is about how terrible it is that the Christian majority is being persecuted by the handful of atheists in the country. A few others were about leading one's life for God. My aunt, in a rare show of single-minded fury, insisted that I read them and think about what I'd done. What I've done consists of being spotted sitting on Lynie's back porch drinking a vodka cream with this guy Giovanni that lives with her family. The people who live kitty-corner to them are notorious spies and happen to be church-goers where my aunt and uncle attend, so they reported me. Of all the amusing antics, I'm supposed to be grounded now. I'd like to see them enforce that, I really would.

As it happens, I have an invite to go over again tonight, and will. It's something rather annoying about my family, that they expect me to play along when they try to present themselves as perfect and righteous. Sometimes I think we all ought to be forced to wear signs, informing the world just how fucked up everyone in this house is. I'm tired of being a liar. Whenever extended family comes over, I'm forced to play this game, while we all pretend to know the first thing about one another. I'm sure they are well-meaning, good people, but I'm exhausted of trying to pretend to share their religious beliefs, or appearing that I'm flawless and cheery when, in fact, I'm not. Perhaps that explains a few things, cutting and anorexia, for starters, a tendency to drink and experiment with drugs and why I spent just about every weekend of age fourteen as a runaway. My aunt and uncle have always sought to prove themselves good through me. My grades, if good, give them something to boast about. Unsatisfactory grades result in punishment, usually something they can enforce, like not speaking to me, or screaming at me. My has been something they have trumpeted about, patted themselves about, and something I've used against them. Imagine their shock when their perfect blonde daughter returned home from her first Marilyn Manson concert, aged thirteen, with hair dyed black. When I wore goth clothes, scene clothes, scene hair, instead of the neat blouses and gentle skirts they preferred. I feel like I'm supposed to play poster child for them sometimes, but the interesting thing is, the more perfect I seem, the more of a wreck I am inside. When I look how I want, act how I want, stop playing good daughter (or good niece, of you prefer) I feel alive, real, like me. When I'm a good girl, I feel like a doll or robot. I wonder if that's how it is with everybody.
Current Mood: listlesslistless
Current Music: William S. Burroughs reading "Quick Fix" to NIN background music
03 July 2008 @ 01:51 pm
A really interesting video on homosexuality and religion, mostly Christianity: "For the Bible Tells Me So". I've been watching it intermittently and it's really...incredible. Sad in parts, because it shows the bigotry and phobia of some religious leaders and teachers, but then also happy, because it shows Christian families who have decided to demonstrate love and acceptance towards gay family members.

The whole video is available: here

I remember, vaguely, when my birth father came out. I was six or seven. People, especially conservatives, tend to freak out at the notion of children having even the most tenuous grasp on what homosexuality is, or that it exists at all. They want to protect children from being "seduced into the lifestyle", to use a term I've heard. For me, I had no blunt facts, I wasn't given illustrations of anal intercourse, I wasn't even told it was a sexual issue at all, just that my dad was in love with another man and wanted to be with him instead of a wife. Well, fine. I couldn't understand what the big deal was, but it certainly was a big deal in my family. I recall my grandmother crying and ripping the hem of her dress, and my paternal uncles bellowing insults about how disgusted they were, before I got picked up and removed from the room by some kindly relative who didn't want me to be traumatised - for which I'm thankful, because I've since learned that the evening turned into a blow up affair with an uncle punching my father, my grandmother being physically sick and my dad leaving in tears.

For the first two years after that announcement, every time my father's name was mentioned, it was accompanied with an admonishment against his, the gravest sin, and some threat of hellfire or disease. I didn't understand, and asked him about it in letters to which he never replied. I didn't know at the time that he had been swayed by the argument that he could change, and was attempting theraputic programs designed to get the gay out, and that he had been convinced that even speaking to me would indoctrinate me with lesbianism and such. Everyone I asked had something negative to say about homosexuality. Most relatives felt, and many continue to feel, that they cannot love him because that will encourage him to stay that way (obviously, his therapy did not work), and they cannot show acceptance because that means they support homosexuality. It's frustrating. The very mystery surrounding it became apparent to me a couple years ago. Homosexuality being a big taboo, I of course wanted to learn more about it, and read some of the classics like Brian Fone's "Homophobia". Relatives who noticed me being vocal in support of homosexuality, something that started when I was fourteen, lectured me incessantly about how gays can't go to hell, and such. They thought I was definitely heading towards lesbianism, and their reactions were predictable. Most are now somewhat more tolerant, or at least not so close to resembling a lynch mob, but it's still not okay to be gay, or even support gays, have gay and lesbian friends, etc. So, this vid is interesting to me.

Check it out!
Current Mood: pleasedpleased
03 July 2008 @ 12:20 am
This probably sounds terrible, especially coming from someone who despises the culture of machoism (not masochism, that's different), but wow, sometimes I just want to scream at my uncle - "hey, you, man up!". The thing about him is: he whines. Like, perpetually. On the edge of being out of breath, as though he's on the verge of tears. What about? Death in the family? The war in Iraq? Incessant pain? No - something like, say, getting him a glass of water: "p - please -- I -- I can't breathe I -- can you - huh -- can -- huh -- please get me water?" or not telling him specifically minute-by-minute where I'll be when I go out: "I guess you just hate me, you don't want to include me in your life, that's fine, but you know it really hurts my feelings..c'mon, I just want to know where you're going...it hurts my heart that you don't talk to me anymore". Jesus Christ! (I know, right) Why does he have to do this? Why can he not simply, like any ordinary human being, phrase his questions in a calm tone of voice, make reasonable requests and just honestly grow up? Half the time, I feel like I'm in charge here. He never does that "lay down the law" thing. He whines. He attempts to make emotional appeals and guilt trips. He sighs dramatically and sulks for hours. It's so frustrating! He behaves often like a petulant child. I hate it because it's impossible to have much respect for him. I love him, you know. He's like my dad, and my father is more like my uncle, and he matters tremendously to me. I just wish he could be someone who was reliable, not so needy, more firm and logical instead of whinging like a baby. I don't mean to sound unkind...

This evening, when I went downstairs to find out how his doctor's appointment had gone, he was, predictably, depressed, but then he tried to show me this book about renewing one's life as a Christian, some spiritual warfare pulp. I have it on my desk but I'm too lazy to get up. But it's one of those alarmist texts, about how Satan is out to get you oh no, and praying to God because he'll burn you if you do something wicked like get drunk or shoplift. Anyway, I looked at it a bit and he asked what I thought about it, and I said, trying to be polite, that it was all right. And he said something about how did I resist temptation to sin, to which I answered I really didn't think about it. I know the Christian ethic is that we are all sinners, including day old babies, and everything we do amounts to dust or nothing at all, but I don't agree with that viewpoint in the least. People can do wrong, yes, terrible wrong. They can "sin", though to me sin means harming yourself or others, so things like, say, having a same-sex bed partner isn't a sin because it's consentual, especially if it's safe sex. I told him this. He whined at me, feeling I was missing the point and being deliberately obstinant. I disagreed. I said that sometimes I did things I knew were wrong, and I tried to learn from them or their consequences, or think about who I was hurting, such as, I wouldn't shoplift these days because if has a ripple effect on people. Well, except stealing from Wal-mart. That's not a sin. But that's a tangent...

So, we discussed sin a while and then forgiveness, and my uncle asked if I hadn't ever done anything I wanted to be forgiven for. Of course, I have. He asked if I 'took those things to the foot of the cross' - Christian lingo for decided I was forgiven, basically, and let go of guilt. I said no, because in my view, the people who have to forgive me my 'sins' are the people I've hurt. Somebody else can't do that for me, just like someone else cannot forgive those who have hurt me, because I won't have forgiven them and it's me they trespassed against (Christian lingo again). Trying to be benevolent, my uncle pointed out the usefulness of Jesus, dying to forgive my sins. I said my sins weren't so horrible as to deserve the death penalty. The most a just judge would slap me with was a fine and some community service, which, I pointed out, is what moral people assign themselves often when they've done wrong. My uncle disagreed and kept insisting, whining now, that Jesus had died for the sins because we all deserve death and so-on, so-forth, human beings are the worst things ever. I said no. We argued about God and my uncle asked if I was an atheist (spoken as though he had a bug in his mouth or something). I'm not, and told him so. I labelled myself with agnostic and undecided, having no evidence one way or the other. Well, he took offence. First, he insisted I claim atheism, and he whined about it for a while, how sad it was having me be an atheist, how he hadn't raised me right, blah. When I wouldn't say I was an atheist, he said I must still be a Christian. Of course, I'm not. He said "either you're a Christian or an atheist, so which one?" to which I replied that there were many more choices. He leniently made room for Satanism. Which one, which one, atheist, Christian or devil-worshipper? Finally, we got onto why I wasn't a Christian, and I said, because I've never had a religious experience or connection, and furthermore, if the God described in the Bible exists, I despise him, making me an anti-Christian non-devil worshipper.

He practically exploded.

And whined. Blamed the media. Slandered my friends. Insisted: "you are a Christian, I know you love God, you just don't know it yet!" How I can love someone I don't know...I don't know!

That was tonight. My exciting Wednesday evening.
Current Mood: sleepysleepy
Current Music: Marilyn Manson; Insect Pins
02 July 2008 @ 11:01 pm
Just cruising around livejournal, and this community fat_rejection made me sad. Man, my uncle is medically obese and my mum and aunt are both overweight, as well as numerous other members of my extended family, and while I really detest their choices sometimes, and pity them for the things they miss, I certainly don't hate them, or not accept them as worthwhile human beings of any weight...which is precisely what that community is doing. When I first encountered it, I looked at the profile and was actually pleased with the little description. I, too, deplore the sight of young children being stuffed and fattened up like hogs to slaughter on McDonald's by neglectful parents. I, too, do not find obesity healthy and do not want to encourage "fat acceptance" if that is taken to mean obesity is considered healthy and normal, though I do support the acceptance of people who are overweight, to be treated as lovable and wonderful human beings. I, too, fear for the very life of my uncle due to his weight problem, which has already caused him diabetes, lung ailments, immobility and joint pain, and I do worry he'll die, and I do get furious at his treatment of his body and the lack of respect he shows himself by overeating -- but, God, then I read the rest of the profile and the interests section, and it's cruelty! The keywords were things like "bashing", "anorexia" and most tellingly "hating fat people" and "mocking fatasses". How disgusting. Just reading over some of the posts and seeing the hideous amount of anger and insecurity on display, I have to say, I would rather be fatally obese than experience that kind of impotent, useless rage within myself. How can a person hate another person, whose only crime is to overindulge in food, a resource made overly abundant and almost forcefully available in a society that is permissive towards gluttony and espouses a mentality of greed? How can they hate strangers to that degree? What torment does a person have to go through to become so numb and heartless? Why does it even matter to them what someone else weighs? Pounds are remarkably unimportant in determining human worth.

It really made me sick.
Current Location: SE7
Current Mood: angryoffended
Current Music: Smashing Pumpkins; "Eye"
02 July 2008 @ 09:07 pm
Hey ya!

What does one say for their first entry anyway?

Hmmm. Puzzling. Well, to begin with, my name is Kloha.

.....Collapse )
Current Location: SE7
Current Mood: chipperfriendly
Current Music: Johnny Depp reading Kerouac's "Madroad Driving"