There is no introduction to my first column because I had absolutely no way to start it that I liked. I could have gone in saying something along the lines of "hello again," but I was worried that that might perplex a lot of people, seeing as how I was never writing to them in the first place. Also, I hate starting out with a first-person reference (like, "Hi, I'm...") because I know that people don't really care too much about me as much as they'd rather just hear what I have to say, at least to start. And now I'm doing one of those cutsie "I didn't know what to do, so I'll tell you what I didn't want to say, and whoops! There's the intro!" [giggle stupidly]
Christ. I'm also trying to help keep this column from being a free rant about whatever I'm pissed or thinking about at the time, but that is what basically composes kinda EVERYTHING I do, so I don't think I can avoid it. But am I really so self-centered that I'm convinced that naught-thousand strangers will be interested in any random thoughts I might have, not unlike members of Silverchair or Paul McCartney?
Yes. Heh ha ho ha hoi. [slow grin, and fade to black]
Well, I figure I can at least put some validity into this by explaining my (purposely) meager bio. So, uh: As you may have guessed already (seeing as how you clicked on it), my name is Matthieu. Hi. You can call me Matt if you like, since that's what most everyone calls me. Music is a major part of my life, but I really mean it-as opposed to those people who go around saying things like "hey, I really love music" and then go listen to MTV or some such drivel. I pretty much think music at the moment is TERRIBLE, but I'll rant about that later, no doubt. I am also, of course, a musician who plays myriad instruments, most of which nobody has heard of. Nevertheless, my primary instrument is [are] the timpani. I also like photography a lot and think Robert Mapplethorpe was incredible. I was, incidentally, one of those "smart kids" when I was growing up-you know, the guys who went to the gifted class and could read in kindergarten but nobody ever got along with? That was me. I like to think that I'm still intelligent but people get along with me now. Wow! Not that I care about that too much, though, the sort of people who I don't get along with are also the sort of people I wouldn't want to get along with in the first place. I'm also still in the closet for the most part. Okay, okay, that's enough. (Actually, I think that was way too much. It wasn't funny, and it was about me extolling myself-two types of writing I don't like.)
I noticed that one of the other guys here already has a "name that lyric" thing in his column, which sucks for me because I was gonna do that. But then, it occurred to me that there are probably no intellectual property rights on having such an affair here, so I'm going to go ahead and do it too, until I can think of something else, anyway. I'll even make it deliberately really difficult so I won't be infringing on anybody's demographic rights. So, here it is:
I've come to hate my body
And all that it requires in this world
I'm gonna watch the bluebirds fly
Over my shoulder
I'm gonna watch them pass me by
Maybe when I'm older
What do you think I'd see
If I could walk away from me?
If you know where that comes from (group/song/cd, whatever), mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I'll give away something fairly interesting to the first person who gets it (probably not too many people), and I'll actually do it, unlike SOME PEOPLE around here. I won't mention any names.
It will be February when ya read this, time for Valentine's day. And me, without anybody to have... fun with. (Yeah, you thought you knew what I was gonna say, huh, didn't you? Well, just put that thought out of your mind right now, we'll have none of that.) Oh, well...
WARNING! SELF-PITY BEGINS HERE! DO NOT READ WHILE OPERATING HEAVY MACHINERY!
I suppose it's partially my fault. I could, of course, come out of the closet publicly so at least I would have some chance of getting a date, but I also would then have some chance (uh, that would be 100 percent) of being mauled by the football team here and being spit on. I live in such a fuckin' tolerant society it's unbelievable.
Right, so your question is, "what about the gay community at your school/in your neighborhood?" Well, my school is my neighborhood for reasons various, and [falter and break into Russian] there IS NOT GAY COMMUNITY HERE, in this place, there is not any things of that kind, no.
I did, truthfully, miss a chance, though, that I probably should have jumped at. It was late one Saturday night (I had just come back from seeing a very good French film), and the person who I am currently killing myself over was working late in the wonderfully overrated technological center we have (he knows too much about computers for his own good, just like me). I went in and hung around with him for about an hour and a half, and we talked about nothing in particular at all until the janitor guy came around to lock the place up and kicked us out.
I felt like banging my head into a wall (and, in fact, I did just that) when we parted five minutes later. I should have taken his hand and told him that I loved him, or at least brought the friggin' subject up, or SOMETHING other than meandering on about nothing for that long. And who am I kidding? I'm NEVER going to get the courage to do that.
[meek voice] ...'cuz I don't completely trust him not to tell anybody I am if he's not. Which is not good. Or, just as bad, he could get really disgusted (the homophobic reaction) and never speak to me again. Or both. Or... what if my sideburns were made out of spinach? (Much apologies to RD for that one.) Right-ho.
It's just like a friend of mine who I came out to said upon finding out that I had told another person, "What's going to happen is that you're eventually going to tell everybody in the entire school, but you'll have told them all not to tell anybody else, and this whole place will collapse from the paranoia."
What can be done? RANDOM POSTSCRIPT: Anybody else think Rider Strong is cute? (My god, I can't believe I just said that... That was my libido talking, not me...) *Oh yes, all opinions expressed herein are those of the author's cat. This is because the author refuses to take responsibility for anything, or so his mother says. He can be reached at email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org (better the former).*
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