Homosexual fashions and why they are the way they are.

Walker Evans Archive, 1994

“Subway Passengers, New York City: Two Women” — Walker Evans Archive, 1994

So, I’m curious, when I Google “Lesbian Fashion”, why is it I get a bazillion results of girls with cropped hair and ties? I mean, try it. Why aren’t there more “girly” lesbians?

And when I Google “Gay Fashion”, why do I get a bunch of colors and patterns and speedos? I will say, gay fashion seems much more diverse than lesbian. Much more erotic too… why is that?

Actually, why do either of those idea exist? Isn’t fashion fashion? The idea of women vs men’s fashion make more sense simply because women’s bodies are different than men’s bodies. But a fashion based on sexuality? I dunno, it seems… redundant. I mean, think of “heterosexual fashion”… what would that be? A t-shirt with vanilla ice cream cones on it?

Anyways, I don’t get it. Maybe Google isn’t the best source for this analysis, but I dunno…. Google kind of rules the internet, and the internet kind of rules the world, right? What’s going on? Ice cream? Hot Fudge? Pecans? Laundry? Oh yeah, laundry… I need to go do laundry.


Watch your feet padawan.

(c) Lorenz kerscher

(c) Lorenz kerscher

Is it just me, or do most people ignore the idea that balance exists? Or if they do try to balance ideas, they keep comparing apples to oranges… Hmm. It’s like this whole “open-minded” term: Why does it have such a positive connotation? Close-mindedness has just as much validity. Sigh… probably overreaction to the collective wrongs of past generations who tended to be more close-minded. There we go with that over-correcting thing again.

So I have this friend on Facebook, posts quizzes ALL. THE. TIME. So I take these quizzes (it’s his fault). Apparently on a scale from 1 to 100 I’m 66% Millennial or something… which according to the chart thingy puts me at about 1977? I knew I always like the 70’s… something about the architecture… angles… wood… whatever.

Anyways, BALANCE. Yes. Myeessssss. Well, it might just be a “western” mishap… Is there anyone from China out there? Or Japan? Yeah because I’m pretty sure those are the only two asian countries that exist. Oh, and lets not forget India.  Right. Hey, maybe I’ll just call myself a non-specific “Buddhist” and get me some nice Thai fisherman’s pants. OH! THAILAND! THERE ARE FOUR ASIAN COUNTRIES! Wow, I learn so much just typing out my thoughts.

Ok, well, to wrap this up – a proverbial sushi roll – I would like to encourage all free peoples (and all peoples who aren’t sure what freedom is) to consider: “How is my balance today?” Find comfort in the fact that you even ask such a question, but not too much comfort that you never answer it. That whole “Well if you’re asking the question then you probably don’t have the problem” thing is a big load of rotten coconuts. And that does NOT make a satisfactory pina colada. And PINA COLADAS… are not asian. SO:

Who else?

To be a child.

There’s a picking bird underneath my brain, pick pick picking.  Between the conjunction of spine and tissue, in a dark little place. A dead little bird.

There are many who boast of their love of truth, who, in truth, are only interested in what they see to be “new” and are quick to make their nobility known. Does one consumed by noble desire have time to complain against lies?

There are also many who believe in “common sense” as a virtue – as the only of the every – and that deviation from this common carries folly. Have current convictions been immune to the spiral of history?

The tragedy, is that the young are getting younger, and the old are getting foolish. Innocence broke a long time ago, and though the larger shards have been gathered, there are still so many grains and slivers without meaning. What are children now but ignorant screams hushed by ignorant ears?

Now, little bird, listen.

I cannot stop you, you have been given authority. I cannot kill you, you are already dead. I cannot silence you, you are too quick for me. What I can do, is give you the attention you never asked for, and ask,

“Who are you?”

EDIT: [9/11/14 12:46 – Something just clunked into the window next to me. I’m not certain, but I think it was a bird!]


It is easier to sew a garment with too much cloth than too little for the finished product, yet when the fabric is cut, can you really deem it “too much”? It is just what you needed. Giving grace first before giving critique isn’t abnormal or extra. It’s nature. Love is normal. Every THING is normal. The un-things are abnormal. This is the holistic view of existence.

The terrors are alive, for now, as are those who follow them. What will they become when dawn shows nothing was real compared to love? Will we remain afraid? Only if we chose error. The imprint of imperfection, once sealed by hatred, will never fade as shadows do. I still wonder, “Does death defy existence?” That is a question that I hope to answer, but probably not in this life.

The homeless man down the street believes he is the new Messiah – the loneliness, the drugs, the pain, the drama is his choice. Or is it? Is his mind still wondering inside? Still responsive to stimuli of reason? Maybe so. He may still have opportunity while darkness lingers. Or perhaps he is too deeply frozen for time.

Err on the side of perfection.

He just wants to dance with us.

So I love taking other folk’s works and putting into a context that they weren’t in originally. Specially for spiritual/philosophical uses.

So take a listen to Louie Armstrong, and pretend they’re talking about God. (This doesn’t translate perfectly for all her lines, but Ella would be playing the role of the Holy Spirit).

“I Won’t Dance” – Ella & Louie

Also, if you’re feeling less jazzy and more hobbit-ish, check this one out!
“Lord of the Dance” – The Dubliners

The People, The People.


Hollywood has a black heart of strings and mud – no sane person would deny this. But the people of that place are a sharp and passionate people. They have great masses of wisdom that have been stomped upon and discarded. It is true that often the wise fail to appropriate their wisdom to the proper use, but you cannot deny the fact that they do indeed know some measure of Truth.

They know it so well that they sell themselves to it. Their fragment is their spear into the yonder. The long nights of quiet focus. The shuffle from one inspiration to the next. The magic of fast food. The rare love. The echoes from starlit nights past.

But now we have it, a regurgitating of all the deceitful years. The filth is everywhere, the corruption is everywhere. The lost dreams are piled high, in a maze of prosperity.

And prosperity is their one claim to the goodness of the earth. They understand it in a tragic sort of way, to the point of forgetting it’s name.

There are fights to be fought there. It is a dark, dark place. I have been there once and despised that endless sun. But am I bitter because I haven’t joined the fray? No, I am so deeply moved by the countless interviews of its veterans I have seen. They are so brave, but so wrong. They hold so much tender truth in their hands, but they don’t understand. So much truth, so little light.