Ok, so picking a word, the first thing I see looking up, I will write every distinct word or phrase that comes into my head in the next five minutes. Here goes...
Table
Food
Plaque
Teeth
Dentists
Poverty
Africa
AIDS
Sex
Curtains
Window sill
Dust
Cloth
Kitchen sink
Water
Swimming
Rope swing
Laughing
Dogs
Dad
Shouting
Hitting
Leather belt
Brother
Toy dinosaurs
Transformers
Fooled
Mum shouting
Suitcases
Crying
Bible study
Sunshine
Harbour
Wellington
Cake
Seth
Black wings
Rain
Polite
Cell phone
Library
Computer
Table
Friday, October 30, 2009
All Rise
By DannyR
All rise.
Court is now in session.
Thank you, let’s hear from the Prosecution.
Thank you, Your Honour, Jury Members,
And now, ladies and gentle-men
Are you all paying attention?
I present for your inspection
The proof of this man’s transgression.
You may all remember,
When last we were in session
We heard from the Defendant
The ludicrous suggestion
That the cause of his aggression
Was sexual repression,
Spousal rejection,
The want of real respect and
A dearth of affection.
Be not fooled, it is deception,
As a lie, it is Perfection,
It obscures the evidence and
Seems a suitable defence. But
I beg you to reject it,
Don’t be fooled by his expression!
For he may seem penitent and
Resigned to his correction,
But he is hardly repentant,
I argue it was his intention
All along to get arrested
To escape his wife’s revenge for
Hiding all her underwear and
Setting fire to her hair. If
It please you, you should send him
Not to jail but to his bedroom
Without police protection
Where his wife may ease her tension
With a suitable reception;
And inflict on him the sentence, I’d
Suggest she takes a hair-pin
And inserts it up his rectum –
Yes thank you, Counsel for the Prosecution
But I'll decide the restitution.
Of course sir, it was only a suggestion.
But I have a lot invested
In seeing that man there divested
Of his smug self-assurances,
You see sir, he is my ex and
I’ve a personal vendetta,
I’d love to see him get a
Public flogging or even better
Brand him with a scarlet letter –
Yes, thank you Counsel, but I’ve said that
I’ll be the one to choose the sentence. Your
History is not pertinent,
In fact it’s a Conflict of Interest and
I think I'll Hold you in Contempt –
Your Honour, please I beg you,
I really do respect you
I apologise and guess I’ll
Have to step down from the bench –
Now, now, I see you’ve learned your lesson,
Counsel, is your case presented?
Aye the Prosecution rests, sir.
Then I think we’ll take a break here and
Let’s all go for a beer. We’ll
Adjourn ‘til, say, eleven?
Good.
All rise.
All rise.
Court is now in session.
Thank you, let’s hear from the Prosecution.
Thank you, Your Honour, Jury Members,
And now, ladies and gentle-men
Are you all paying attention?
I present for your inspection
The proof of this man’s transgression.
You may all remember,
When last we were in session
We heard from the Defendant
The ludicrous suggestion
That the cause of his aggression
Was sexual repression,
Spousal rejection,
The want of real respect and
A dearth of affection.
Be not fooled, it is deception,
As a lie, it is Perfection,
It obscures the evidence and
Seems a suitable defence. But
I beg you to reject it,
Don’t be fooled by his expression!
For he may seem penitent and
Resigned to his correction,
But he is hardly repentant,
I argue it was his intention
All along to get arrested
To escape his wife’s revenge for
Hiding all her underwear and
Setting fire to her hair. If
It please you, you should send him
Not to jail but to his bedroom
Without police protection
Where his wife may ease her tension
With a suitable reception;
And inflict on him the sentence, I’d
Suggest she takes a hair-pin
And inserts it up his rectum –
Yes thank you, Counsel for the Prosecution
But I'll decide the restitution.
Of course sir, it was only a suggestion.
But I have a lot invested
In seeing that man there divested
Of his smug self-assurances,
You see sir, he is my ex and
I’ve a personal vendetta,
I’d love to see him get a
Public flogging or even better
Brand him with a scarlet letter –
Yes, thank you Counsel, but I’ve said that
I’ll be the one to choose the sentence. Your
History is not pertinent,
In fact it’s a Conflict of Interest and
I think I'll Hold you in Contempt –
Your Honour, please I beg you,
I really do respect you
I apologise and guess I’ll
Have to step down from the bench –
Now, now, I see you’ve learned your lesson,
Counsel, is your case presented?
Aye the Prosecution rests, sir.
Then I think we’ll take a break here and
Let’s all go for a beer. We’ll
Adjourn ‘til, say, eleven?
Good.
All rise.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The Clamouring Silence
by DannyR
Too many monkeys screaming in my head,
Footfalls of silence, drumbeats of dread,
A sky full of airplanes, a puddle full of red,
And your voice telling me its time I went to bed.
The dogs protest the passing of the paperboy outside
The sky carries the promise of the dying of the light
The daisies in the vase on the sill have nearly died
And your voice telling me you’re not staying tonight.
The creak of the stairs on my way up to my room,
The moment’s hesitation as I peer into the gloom,
The darkness dispelled by the switch I flick anew
And your voice in the hallway as you bid me adieu.
No spiders ‘twixt the sheets nor goblins underneath the bed,
The pillow soft and cold beneath my weary heavy head,
A hundred thousand promises and the light have fled,
Your footsteps on the path outside a moment and you’ve left.
And still I hear the monkeys and I feel their greedy paws,
They chatter and they screech about societies and laws,
They paint themselves, no longer walking about upon all fours
They lie and steal but still their lies are nothing next to yours.
Shadows in the corners of my room are occupied,
Trees scratching on the windowpane, my eyes open wide,
The creaks and groans of timber, a kitchen full of knives,
The memory of your voice is little comfort now I find.
A shape there in the corner or a jacket on a chair?
A moment hiding ‘neath the sheets and now it’s moved I swear.
But nothing more occurs as into utter dark I stare,
The memory of your voice, the fervent wish that you were here.
Hours passing slowly, marching off into the gloom,
Following the example of the promises untrue
Leaving me alone, awake, here in this darkened room
They leave me to my nightmares, they leave me, just like you.
And still the monkeys scream, and the drumbeats do not fade
Though the light has disappeared with all the promises you made
And I’m drowning in the pool of blood, I cannot see the planes,
I swear I hear a footstep and I wish that you had stayed.
Too many monkeys screaming in my head,
Footfalls of silence, drumbeats of dread,
A sky full of airplanes, a puddle full of red,
And your voice telling me its time I went to bed.
The dogs protest the passing of the paperboy outside
The sky carries the promise of the dying of the light
The daisies in the vase on the sill have nearly died
And your voice telling me you’re not staying tonight.
The creak of the stairs on my way up to my room,
The moment’s hesitation as I peer into the gloom,
The darkness dispelled by the switch I flick anew
And your voice in the hallway as you bid me adieu.
No spiders ‘twixt the sheets nor goblins underneath the bed,
The pillow soft and cold beneath my weary heavy head,
A hundred thousand promises and the light have fled,
Your footsteps on the path outside a moment and you’ve left.
And still I hear the monkeys and I feel their greedy paws,
They chatter and they screech about societies and laws,
They paint themselves, no longer walking about upon all fours
They lie and steal but still their lies are nothing next to yours.
Shadows in the corners of my room are occupied,
Trees scratching on the windowpane, my eyes open wide,
The creaks and groans of timber, a kitchen full of knives,
The memory of your voice is little comfort now I find.
A shape there in the corner or a jacket on a chair?
A moment hiding ‘neath the sheets and now it’s moved I swear.
But nothing more occurs as into utter dark I stare,
The memory of your voice, the fervent wish that you were here.
Hours passing slowly, marching off into the gloom,
Following the example of the promises untrue
Leaving me alone, awake, here in this darkened room
They leave me to my nightmares, they leave me, just like you.
And still the monkeys scream, and the drumbeats do not fade
Though the light has disappeared with all the promises you made
And I’m drowning in the pool of blood, I cannot see the planes,
I swear I hear a footstep and I wish that you had stayed.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Danny's Angry Letter
[Submitted to CHAFF and published 12th October 09]
Leah was smart, beautiful, hilarious, cheeky, warm, friendly, generous, outgoing, popular and passionate. She was also gay, and very recently she committed suicide. Her community is devastated, we miss her terribly, and we’re struggling to come to grips with what happened, searching for answers to heal our broken hearts and finding few. I suspect it will be a long time before our hearts heal.
Bernie was gentle, witty, considerate, daring, charming, fun-loving and funny. He too was gay, and he killed himself a couple of months ago. His friends are still reeling from the shock, and grieving the loss.
The lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender communities in New Zealand and around the world are disproportionately represented in suicide statistics. We are more than three times as likely to commit suicide as our heterosexual peers. We live in a world with few visible role models, we often grow up always looking over our shoulders to make sure we’re not being noticed, laughed at, jeered at and threatened. We sometimes experience complete rejection from lifelong friends and from our families when we finally try living honestly and openly as ourselves, and in some towns and rural areas we have no one to share our struggles with. And sometimes, we are the victims of horrific violent assaults.
We live in a world that tells us we’re pathetic, sick, unwanted, un-thought-of, unimportant. We hear you, Girl in the Library, when you gossip with your friends and you laugh about some guy you know, calling him a ‘fucking faggot.’ We hear you, Dude on the Bus, when you laugh with your mates, saying that [insert object of humiliation here] is ‘gaay!’ You either think we’re not there, that it doesn’t matter, or worse, that those words really do mean stupid, lame, disgusting, pathetic and worthless. You don’t go around saying ‘that’s just Maori!’ or ‘He’s such a nigger,’ cos you know that hurts people. So why do it to us? Every time you say it you tell yourself, the world around you, and maybe some lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person who might be sitting right next to you that anyone not heterosexual isn’t worth the same human decency you extend to others.
My 10 yr old cousin Reece is gentle, clever, kind, funny and cheerful, he already knows he’s gay, and his mother tells me he comes home crying from school more often than not.
So stop it. Just fucking stop it, ok?
DR
Leah was smart, beautiful, hilarious, cheeky, warm, friendly, generous, outgoing, popular and passionate. She was also gay, and very recently she committed suicide. Her community is devastated, we miss her terribly, and we’re struggling to come to grips with what happened, searching for answers to heal our broken hearts and finding few. I suspect it will be a long time before our hearts heal.
Bernie was gentle, witty, considerate, daring, charming, fun-loving and funny. He too was gay, and he killed himself a couple of months ago. His friends are still reeling from the shock, and grieving the loss.
The lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender communities in New Zealand and around the world are disproportionately represented in suicide statistics. We are more than three times as likely to commit suicide as our heterosexual peers. We live in a world with few visible role models, we often grow up always looking over our shoulders to make sure we’re not being noticed, laughed at, jeered at and threatened. We sometimes experience complete rejection from lifelong friends and from our families when we finally try living honestly and openly as ourselves, and in some towns and rural areas we have no one to share our struggles with. And sometimes, we are the victims of horrific violent assaults.
We live in a world that tells us we’re pathetic, sick, unwanted, un-thought-of, unimportant. We hear you, Girl in the Library, when you gossip with your friends and you laugh about some guy you know, calling him a ‘fucking faggot.’ We hear you, Dude on the Bus, when you laugh with your mates, saying that [insert object of humiliation here] is ‘gaay!’ You either think we’re not there, that it doesn’t matter, or worse, that those words really do mean stupid, lame, disgusting, pathetic and worthless. You don’t go around saying ‘that’s just Maori!’ or ‘He’s such a nigger,’ cos you know that hurts people. So why do it to us? Every time you say it you tell yourself, the world around you, and maybe some lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person who might be sitting right next to you that anyone not heterosexual isn’t worth the same human decency you extend to others.
My 10 yr old cousin Reece is gentle, clever, kind, funny and cheerful, he already knows he’s gay, and his mother tells me he comes home crying from school more often than not.
So stop it. Just fucking stop it, ok?
DR
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Her Name Was Leah
She was outgoing, fun, friendly, energetic, always the life of the party. She put a lot of time and energy into helping people and volunteering for things, and she was involved in everything - she DJ'ed at the bar most weekends, she was involved with two local acting groups, she played softball and soccer, was part of the medieval jousting club (yes, they exist), she wrote poetry, modelled, took photography classes -- everyone knew her. And nobody knew she was having such a hard time the last six to twelve months - she kept it to herself, and then a week ago she killed herself.
I saw her a few hours before she did it, up at the bar, and I didn't stop to ask her how she was cos I was out looking after some friends of S's from out of town and the place was noisy and full. She seemed to be in her own little world, and her hair (which was often flaming red, golden or bright pink) was black. I wish I'd said something now, anything at all to make her know that we cared. I wish I could go back to that night.
The funeral was yesterday and about two hundred people showed up. The service was 90 minutes, and was lighthearted and full of humour, just like Leah was, which made it all the harder to bear. Her family came through, which we hadn't expected seeing how they'd disowned her for being gay, and they gave some really beautiful eulogies. And her flatmates and friends had all paid for it, and it was really lovely. I was bawling my eyes out the whole time, she was always so nice to me, and so cheerful and beautiful, and it was like she was proof that you could come through even the hardest of lives with a smile on your face, but I guess none of us knew just how hard it had really been for her. We all failed her.
We held the wake at the club, and everyone was pretty shattered. I couldn't stay, I was really depressed, so S and I went for a walk, and then I went home and slept. I just feel dazed now, it's like it hasn't happened but I keep having thoughts of her lying in the coffin, and that starts me off crying all over again.
She really was so beautiful.
I saw her a few hours before she did it, up at the bar, and I didn't stop to ask her how she was cos I was out looking after some friends of S's from out of town and the place was noisy and full. She seemed to be in her own little world, and her hair (which was often flaming red, golden or bright pink) was black. I wish I'd said something now, anything at all to make her know that we cared. I wish I could go back to that night.
The funeral was yesterday and about two hundred people showed up. The service was 90 minutes, and was lighthearted and full of humour, just like Leah was, which made it all the harder to bear. Her family came through, which we hadn't expected seeing how they'd disowned her for being gay, and they gave some really beautiful eulogies. And her flatmates and friends had all paid for it, and it was really lovely. I was bawling my eyes out the whole time, she was always so nice to me, and so cheerful and beautiful, and it was like she was proof that you could come through even the hardest of lives with a smile on your face, but I guess none of us knew just how hard it had really been for her. We all failed her.
We held the wake at the club, and everyone was pretty shattered. I couldn't stay, I was really depressed, so S and I went for a walk, and then I went home and slept. I just feel dazed now, it's like it hasn't happened but I keep having thoughts of her lying in the coffin, and that starts me off crying all over again.
She really was so beautiful.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Loss
"Yeah... And I'm sad! But at the same time I'm really happy that something can make me feel that sad... It's like... It makes me feel alive, y'know? It makes me feel human. The only way I could feel this sad now, is if I felt somethin' really good before, so I have to take the bad with the good. So I guess what I'm feelin' is, like a beautiful sadness... I guess that sounds stupid... Besides, I'd rather be a crying little pussy than a faggy goth kid!" (image and quote courtesy of Gay Banker at http://gaybanker.blogspot.com/2009/09/philosophy-of-butters-stotch.html)
It's been a pretty horrible week for the whole community here - it's like everything has kind of fallen to pieces.
I went in to the student association yesterday to see Karl about some details for the Sexual Health Group meeting I had arranged for last night, and of course Karl shares an office with my mate Cassie, who also knew Leah. Everybody did - she was so involved and active.
Cassie was sitting there when I walked in the door - we took one look at each other and both burst into tears. It's all so unfair, and way these things always come down to family fighting and money - that's just disgusting.
The funeral is tomorrow afternoon. Cass and me joked about everyone showing up goth, or with bright pink hair, and we actually did laugh -- that kind of relieved, guilty, sad laughter -- but really it would be the most appropriate thing to do. She always did stand out, and I can't help thinking that she'd be smiling if we did and she could know it.
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I guess I just care too much...