Dainty

Dainty: (adj) of delicate beauty; exquisite:

 I have been alive for all four stages of gay America.

Phase One: We hate gays.

Phase Two: Maybe we don’t hate them, but we don’t want to be one.

Phase Three: We accept gays, reluctantly.

Phase Four: How much gay might be in me?

If “gay America” was an advertising campaign, it was probably the most successful one there’s ever been, along with convincing housewives that Brawny paper towels are better because there’s a muscular man pictured on the wrapper.

It does create a quandary.

Without being homophobic, it crosses my mind that if I’m at a movie with another guy, the assumption of the auditorium may be that we’re a gay couple.

This is why heterosexual men are now traveling around in odd numbers: three, five and seven, for instance. It’s the only way to appear to be a gang instead of a gaggle.

But the worst part of it is that as a musician, an author and even occasionally a poet, I do want to coax my dainty side from the shadows and allow my words to color a picture with softer hues than black, gray and brown.

I want to be tender.

I want to be softer.

I want to be gentler in the areas where my heart comes near the soul of another human being.

I am weary of braggadocio.

I am completely exhausted by macho wrangling.

I want to be the person I need to be, to make sure that I leave a lingering message of openness and kindness.

Can I do this without being tagged with some new Internet term—like “metrosexual?”

Is it possible for a man to be dainty without being gay?

Is there a door to more expression instead of inserting coarse language to assure the hearer that there’s “muscle behind the message?”

I’m not gay.

I’m not afraid of being gay.

I’m not intimidated by gay people.

But I am dainty.

And I don’t want to apologize for it just so my silly mind and confused history of prejudice will drag me into ordering a second beer—just so I don’t look effeminate.

 

Culottes

Culottes: (n) women’s trousers, usually knee-length or calf-length, cut full to resemble a skirt.

I have seen enough things come and go, enough rules altered–opinions ransacked by reality—that I can no longer abide just accepting a set of regulations without asking why.

In my lifetime, I was informed that long hair was effeminate.

I was told that divorce was forbidden.

Masturbation was considered to be a sin.

Dating between the races was anti-Christ.

And one summer, Camp Jesus Something-Or-Other refused to allow the girls to wear culottes.

It was absolutely ridiculous.

None of the boys objected to the restriction, because girls in skirts would be running, sitting oddly and the fellows would get a great vision of their panties, which would last until the next time they were alone in their sleeping bags.

Everybody—and I mean, everybody—knew the rule was bullshit.

Even when the counselors were asked why the stipulation was in place, they parroted off some answer given to them by the founders of the camp (which they didn’t believe).

I comprehend the process. For instance, for ten years we had to whisper that we “passed gas” instead of bluntly saying we farted.

You could talk about dating and love, but you weren’t allowed to mention sex. That is, until you suddenly were permitted.

Can we shorten this agonizing delay?

Matter of fact, let us decide that if there isn’t a legitimate health, well-being or realistic moral reason for a guideline to exist, we will call it meaningless and request that it be reviewed.

Once and for all, can we come to a conclusion that sanctifying our race by trying to corral human emotions is fruitless?

Culottes look good on girls. They make girls more comfortable. And the only time a girl wears pants and looks like a man is if she decides she wants to go for the whole butch persona.

 

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Consider

Consider: (v) to think carefully about something

A lily.

Let me consider this…

A carpenter who talks to his friends about considering lilies.

Certainly the more macho factions of our society might find this to be somewhat effeminate.

Liberals might think this statement, “consider the lily” is a sign of unannounced but obvious support for the LGBTQ community.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

But what the carpenter wanted everyone to consider was not the beauty of the lily, but how it grew.

So much talk. So much reasoning. So much discussion about growing.

Yet the assertion of this carpenter was that the lily was worth considering because it grew without struggle. It didn’t work hard or try to manipulate circumstances to its favor.

It found dirt, absorbed the available nutrients, waited for the rain to enrich it, and then it trusted that there was good stuff inside the seed to create a flower.

There are so many beautiful thoughts there that it would be difficult to focus on one over another. So let me not steer the wheel of your journey in comprehension.

After all, the carpenter had the best word to describe what we need to do if we want to understand how Earth, Mother Nature and even faith flourish.

He suggested: consider.

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Coaster

Coaster: (n) a small mat placed under a glass to protect the table underneath.

It’s one of those factors that determines whether you are a bungler or a baron.

There are many.

But when you find yourself with a glass of drink and there is a table in front of you, do you procure a coaster so your condensation does not leave a ring on the table, or do you just put your glass down and later act completely bewildered because your hostess or host was offended by your choice?

It’s where we teeter–all human beings teeter between understanding and arrogance.

Often we understand the purpose for matters, yet in our arrogance, we resist performing the courteous function simply because it seems tedious and makes us appear too subservient.

A long time ago I had to decide whether to be a bungler or become a baron. Would I be willing to learn the things that are important to my brothers and sisters, and simply avoid conflict with their tender conscience by doing them? Or would I stubbornly going to insist that it’s a “goddamn free country,” and proceed to take my pet bull off the leash for the latest visit to the china shop?

Coasters are not effeminate.

Coasters are not irrational.

Coasters may not be necessary–but you won’t know until you don’t use one. So why take the risk, especially on the chance that you might unnecessarily offend a friend?

But stubborn we are–all children of Adam and Eve.

Yet, if you want to get back into the Garden, you need to swallow your pride and discover the location of the forbidden apples.

 

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