Who's the Queerest Of Them All? -- Deviant, Chaff 7 2009

It used to be that lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex people only made it into TV shows as freaks and perverts. We were stuck in the hell that is daytime and late-night talk-shows like Ricki Lake and Jerry Springer, put on display as immoral deviants, predators, home-wreckers. In other programming we were invisible except to be pitied, feared or laughed at. But something’s changed, these days you can’t turn on the TV without seeing a couple of token Queers (unless you’re a Star Trek fan – 40 years homo-free and counting!!). It’s even made it into Coronation Street. My god, my mum is avidly watching gay romance on The Street. But it’s not always a good thing. Just how are we being portrayed, and by which shows?? Of course I can’t cover everything here, but even a brief survey is revealing.

We do pretty well in comedy. Perhaps the best illustration of this new mainstream acceptance of gays and lesbians is the rising star of Ellen Degeneres. She made history with her show Ellen, when her character (and she herself in real-life) came out. Of course the show was axed not long after but she’s back with a talk-show that rivals Oprah in popularity, and she was even chosen to host the 79th Academy Awards in 2007. Seems everyone loves Ellen now. And let’s not forget Will & Grace, the first show in history to have a gay male lead. The show was popular from the outset, though probably more for stereotypically flamboyant and bitchy supporting characters Jack and Karen than for the title characters. It’s like the mainstream likes us best when we’re not just gay, but really gay. Will was played by a straight guy, too. Still, a big step towards equality.

AfterElton.com recently named Scrubs the “gayest show on television,” but I have to disagree, it doesn’t have any lesbian or gay characters, just the sexually ambiguous ‘The Todd’ and the ‘bromance’ between straight male leads Turk and JD. In my mind, Scrubs is outshone by the much gayer Ugly Betty, which has hot trannie chick Alex in one of the main emotional story-arcs, as well as Betty’s camp little nephew Justin, and the hilariously bitchy, obviously gay Marc. Then there’s The Sarah Silverman Program, featuring lazy, scruffy Brian and Steve, two sloppy, overweight Ginga stoners who sit at home playing computer games all day, showing that not all gays are prissy queens, that we can be just as ordinary and slovenly as anyone else.

Family Guy often shows main character Peter as a bit camp, and occasionally hints that evil baby Stewie is gay, but it’s all for giggles and neither is actually a homo according to show creators, so it’s another one where there’s no regular Queer character. The Simpsons is (a bit) better: closet homo Waylon Smithers has been a firm fixture in the cast from the show’s earliest days, Marge’s sister Patty came out as a lesbian and married her girlfriend, and the show once devoted an entire episode to the stupidity of ‘Homer’s Phobia’ toward obviously gay John (winning the show an Emmy), but after that episode John was never seen again.

I would argue that South Park is actually more gay-friendly than The Simpsons and Family Guy, despite its frequent use of the words ‘gay’ and ‘faggot’ as insults. Sure, it’s over-the-top, obnoxious and crude, but South Park is like that to everyone and everything, it’s an equal-opportunity mud-slinger, so it’s actually a more inclusive show than most. And it’s jam-packed with Queers. Cartman’s mother is a hermaphrodite. Saddam Hussein and Satan are lovers. Big Gay Al and Mister Slave get married, and the boys’ teacher Mr. Garrison becomes Ms. Garrison, experiments with lesbianism and switches back to being a man. Butters is sent to Bi-Curious camp to be ‘cured,’ and ends up showing that obsessing over other people’s sexuality actually causes them more confusion and harm than just leaving them alone. South Park rocks.

And of course British comedy has always been full of gay jokes, in fact I can’t think
of a single exception. Probably the gayest of the lot is Little Britain, for a start most of the women are actually men in drag, then there’s Daffyd, the ‘Only Gay In The Village,’ the Prime Minister’s love-sick aide Sebastian, a bickering divorced couple who are actually both gay, closet-homo and Minister of Parliament Norman Fry, and ‘Emily,’ she of the Victorian frocks and constant protests of “I’m a Lady!” All ridiculously stereotypical, but the show’s success has put Queer people firmly in the limelight.

So comedy’s crowded with Queers. Turning to action and sci-fi, though, we find a very different story. If you look at big syndicated shows like Lost, 24, Heroes, Stargate, and the like, you’ll find that LGBT people are either completely absent/invisible or, overwhelmingly, weak and/or evil. Take Lost. Here’s a show with a huge cast that ticks practically every demographic box, and yet there is not one gay, lesbian, transgendered or bisexual character. Or how about 24, where homosexuality either gets you killed or directly results in the U.S. being attacked by terrorists? In fact the only exception I can think of here is Doctor Who spin-off Torchwood, which has bisexual protagonist Captain Jack and pretty much everyone on the show snogging or screwing someone of the same gender at one point or another.

We do (somewhat) better in drama, in at least being visible. ER had a number of lesbian stories over the years but to no one’s great surprise they involved little actual romance or sexuality, and when they did it always ended in bitter disappointments and loneliness. Six Feet Under and Brothers and Sisters also feature gay people and their romantic and sexual lives but again these are shown to be dysfunctional and basically unfulfilling. Similarly, British soaps like Emmerdale and EastEnders have had gay characters for years, but of course they’re always miserable or shocking stories, because in drama and soap-land, no one gets to be happy for long. It’s kind of the whole point. For example, Coronation Street made young Todd’s homosexuality directly responsible for his girlfriend’s miscarriage. Coro’s kind of made up for it though with the first transsexual character in a British soap, Hayley, who is one of the show’s more likeable characters, and now uber-gay Sean, a regular character with a hunky boyfriend. So not all bad there.

Our own Shortland Street has featured gay characters and storylines since it’s beginning, but I’m sorry to say it hasn’t exactly painted a rosy picture. Gay males are inevitably screwed up and go out of their way to hurt people or are killed off pretty quickly. The girls don’t fare much better – they last longer, but it seems they always end up murdering somebody. And where are the transsexuals, the fa’afafine and takataapui people? Still, we do have Gerald, Shorty’s femmy asexual receptionist, and writers did make a brief attempt to play out the implications of this identity for his life and relationships. They could probably try harder though.

It’s nice to see more Queer people on the Telly, but it’s be nice to see more of them in serious lead roles that address their issues without getting too morbid, or that show them defeating the bad guy instead of being the bad guy. I guess for now I’ll just have to stick to animated shorts like Rick and Steve: The Happiest Gay Couple In The World, or watch Queer as Folk on dvd over and over. Or I could take up watching Coro with my mum.

DannyR

Write Your Own Damn Article!! -- CHAFF 4, 2009

With Semester One well underway and assignments starting to clamour for attention, we can all feel a little overwhelmed and stressed out. I know I am. So rather than actually putting time and effort into writing something witty, entertaining and educational, I have decided to throw the CHAFF to the wind, so to speak. Entertain and educate yourselves, Dammit!!

Don’t worry though, I’m not leaving you to figure it out all by yourselves, I’m not that heartless. Not yet, anyway. (Though if I see any more first-years playing on Bebo in lectures instead of listening or taking notes, I may just give up the will to live).

I’ve thrown together a couple of paragraphs (below) deleted words haphazardly, and compiled a random list with which YOU can fill in the gaps* Simply choose a word from the list (or come up with one of your own) and insert it into whichever space you think it fits best, and Voila!! you’ll have written your first CHAFF article. If you’re really proud of your masterpiece, drop it in the CHAFF letterbox and they’ll print it. Then you’ll be, like, FAMOUS.

So are you ready and eager, pen in hand?? Get cracking!!

THE ARTICLE:

You smile from behind the counter as the bell above the door rings and she _ _ _ _ _ _ into the _ _ _ _ , her golden _ _ _ _ swinging freely behind her as she moves. Watching as she makes her way around the room, selecting _ _ _ _ _ and putting them in her shopping basket, you wonder why you’ve never managed to pluck up the courage to ask her out to a _ _ _ _ _ or a _ _ _ _ some time. Every other day she comes in at about the same time, brings a few _ _ _ _ _ _ _ items to the counter, hands over the appropriate change with a smile, and disappears, leaving you feeling dazed and a little awkward.

Today is no different. She gets a carton of _ _ _ _ from the refrigerator, a small packet of lite _ _ _ _ _ _ from a shelf in the middle aisle and picks up a _ _ _ _ _ from the stand by the counter. She smiles as she drops them in front of you, and does that cute thing where she bites her bottom lip as she puts five _ _ _ _ _ _ _ into your hand. You can feel yourself turning crimson, terrified and excited like you always are when she’s standing there in front of you.

Just then two men in black _ _ _ _ _ _ _, wearing balaclavas, burst into the room shouting, pointing guns. You can’t understand what they’re saying, it’s all so loud and it’s happening so fast. One of them is pointing his _ _ _ _ _ _ at the girl with the golden hair, and she’s backing into a corner, her eyes wide with fright. The other one is yelling at you, and slowly, dumbly, you begin to understand. They want you to open your _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _. Remembering that you’re supposed to do what they say, you nod, look down, trying to remember how. You do this a hundred times a day, but it seems somehow strange and clumsy now.

That’s when your boss walks into the room from out the back. The guy pointing his _ _ _ _ _ _ at the girl with the golden hair spins around and starts _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _, and then your boss is screaming, and then there’s a shot. Everyone _ _ _ _ _ _ _.

The two men in balaclavas run for it. The girl is standing in the corner _ _ _ _ _ _ _, and you can’t understand why – they’re gone. But you can’t see your boss. It takes you a second, but then you begin to understand. He’s _ _ the _ _ _ _.

The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

THE LIST:

storms, sidles, slinks, crawls, bounds,
lair, hole, jail; room, door,
fart, knee, pony, arse, pimp
fruit, clams, STD’s, beers, whips
dance, field, beach, party, match
orgy, club, film, rape, rave
knitted, helpful, naughty, special, rotting
porn, shit, beer, salt, hope
chains, slaves, undies, bosoms, knives
spoon, dwarf, bunny, dildo, rifle
kittens, plagues, beetles, verucas, flowers
panties, fedoras, condoms, pyjamas, leather
camera, granny, midget, bottom, nipple
sexy, dope, meat, bomb, crap
curtains, sneakers, cupboard, man-cave, trousers
camera, granny, midget, bottom, nipple,
proposing, ovulating, preaching, fidgeting, stripping
belches, cuddles, boogies, giggles, parties
quietly, texting, happily, cubicle, wanking
in, at, on, by
shark, blood, phone, kitty, turps


* If anyone’s interested in reading the original, it’s at the back of this issue.


Write Your Own Damn Article – The Original

You smile from behind the counter as the bell above the door rings and she floats into the shop, her golden hair swinging freely behind her as she moves. Watching as she makes her way around the room, selecting items and putting them in her shopping basket, you wonder why you’ve never managed to pluck up the courage to ask her out to a movie or a cafe some time. Every other day she comes in at about the same time, brings a few grocery items to the counter, hands over the appropriate change with a smile, and disappears, leaving you feeling dazed and a little awkward.

Today is no different. She gets a carton of milk from the refrigerator, a small packet of lite crisps from a shelf in the middle aisle and picks up a paper from the stand by the counter. She smiles as she drops them in front of you, and does that cute thing where she bites her bottom lip as she puts five dollars into your hand. You can feel yourself turning crimson, terrified and excited like you always are when she’s standing there in front of you.

Just then two men in black clothes, wearing balaclavas, burst into the room shouting, pointing guns. You can’t understand what they’re saying, it’s all so loud and it’s happening so fast. One of them is pointing his weapon at the girl with the golden hair, and she’s backing into a corner, her eyes wide with fright. The other one is yelling at you, and slowly, dumbly, you begin to understand. They want you to open your cash register. Remembering that you’re supposed to do what they say, you nod, look down, trying to remember how. You do this a hundred times a day, but it seems somehow strange and clumsy now.

That’s when your boss walks into the room from out the back. The guy pointing his gun at the girl with the golden hair spins around and starts screaming, and then your boss is screaming, and then there’s a shot. Everyone freezes.

The two men in balaclavas run for it. The girl is standing in the corner sobbing, and you can’t understand why – they’re gone. But you can’t see your boss. It takes you a second, but then you begin to understand. He’s on the floor.

The whole thing had taken less than a minute.

Danny Rudd

CHAFF Review -- The Unborn (or, Dead on Arrival)

Grade: D, or 3/10

Starring Odette Yustman, Cam Gigandet, Gary Oldman

I love a good horror flick. Sadly, they’re few and far between, and The Unborn is no exception.

Produced by Michael Bay of Transformers notoriety, and written by David S. Goyer, who was responsible for such brilliant scripts as Dark City and Batman Begins, this could have been an awesome movie. Not necessarily a smart one, but pretty freakin’ fantastic.

What’s it about? Well, in a nutshell, there’s this chick who sees dogs wearing masks, gets all upset and finds out she had a still-born dead twin that no one ever told her about. Said dead twin, it seems, is the vengeful spirit of a kid killed prematurely in WWII who had to get back into the world to fulfil its purpose, and who is now blaming his sister for his not being born and is out to torment her. Cue Jewish spiritual advisor, cue freaky exorcism. I thought it was all a bit convoluted in the theatre, and even now, I’m not entirely sure I got the gist.

The music was… bland. The lighting was… bland. The acting was… well, not entirely awful, but pretty mediocre overall. Odette Yustman, though WAAAY hot, has the emotional capacity of a can of cold tuna as Casey, the lead character. Cam Gigandet, the hunky vampire from Twilight, was here just the boring dependable boyfriend we’ve all seen in a thousand other horror flicks. Even the seriously awesome Mr Oldman, playing Casey’s rabbi, was a bit of a disappointment. This isn’t to say that these guys are bad actors, but the script doesn’t really give any of them the room to be interesting.

The whole thing is one cliché after another. This is how bad it is: I sat there counting the things I’d seen before in other, better horror movies… creepy child, doubting hot chick, obscure evil spirit, freakish stair-climb, tricycle, unexpected face in the mirror, etc etc etc. And then there are all the gaping plot holes. I think any film where you have time to sit there cataloguing plot deficiencies is, ultimately, a film not worth seeing. And boy, do you have time. The Unborn could have been half the length it is, and it might actually have been better. As it is, I found myself longing for the closing credits. Why didn’t I just walk out? Because I’m stingy. I paid my money, dammit, and if I’m going to be bored by a movie, I’m going to be bored witless.

I think you get the picture. DON’T go see this film. DON’T be tempted to part with your few remaining dollars when you walk past the cinema and see Odette Yustman’s enticing derriere staring out at you from the film’s poster. Just don’t.

- DannyR

Response to 'Sex With Aunty', Deviant 6, 2009

You're right, Aunty, cheating sux.

If you're the cheatER, you have a lot of guilt to live with, whether you're sprung or not or own up to it, and you have to expend all that effort covering up your tracks, losing sleep worrying and berating yourself. If you're the cheatEE, you can feel humiliated, rejected, inadequate, unloved and unlovable, and a whole host of other none-too-pleasant things. If you're the OTHER man/woman, you might feel anything from surprise or remorse to malicious glee at your involvement. Cheating is most definitely NOT cool.

However, I do feel that I have to take issue with your recent article on infidelity. For a start, I think you probably could have acknowledged that 'cheating' means very different things to different people. Some of my friends, for example, feel betrayed if their partner so much as notices that someboby else is attractive. Others of my friends have no qualms about their Significant Other getting a little intimate with a friend or stranger on the dancefloor, so long as that is where it ends. Still others have no objection if their partner beds someone else, though they usually have mutually agreed-upon rules about how, with whom and when that can happen, and whether they talk about it or not.

I totally agree with you, Aunty, that at the root of the problem is a basic lack of communication, that people simply don't tell their partner(s) how they are feeling, what they want at whatever point of their relationship they're in, and what they're frustrated or dissatisfied with. We don't automatically assume these days that our partner will want to marry us, that he or she wants kids, or even necessarily that they expect the relationship to last for the rest of their life. Maybe it's time monogamy was added to that list of negotiable points.

I flat-out disagree with your assumption that if a man or a woman is looking elsewhere, there's something fundamentally wrong with the relationship he or she is in. That assertion smacks of an underlying preconception that there is in fact some universal way that a relationship SHOULD be. And in an age where the mother of a man's child is not necessarily his wife, where the different marriage practices of different cultures are recognised and very often respected, where some women and men choose multiple or serial relationships, isn't that view a little simplistic?

A relationship, ultimately, is up to the people in it. If they agree that they want lifelong monogamy and a cottage by the sea complete with white picket fence, two kids and a puppy, that is their prerogative. If two or three or however many people decide they want to all live in one home together or separately in several households, dividing their time and emotional energy between themselves, that too is for them to work out amongst themselves. The point though, is that these things need to be discussed.

A lot of the heartaches and recriminations tied up with infidelity are ultimately caused by people not knowing what the rules between themselves and their partner(s) are, having never expected to be in the situation where they are committed to one person but find themselves drawn to another person as well. It's something we don't really talk about in our society, and that needs to change. Yes, there are selfish fuckwits out there who simply don't care what their partner feels or what risks they are exposing their partner to, so I'm not disagreeing with you completely. You very rightly stress the need for honesty and respect for one's partner, and I applaud that. But non-monogamy does not automatically equal dishonesty or relationship dissatisfaction. In sum, to make informed choices, people need to know their options.

That's enough from me. Keep up the good work, Aunty, I look forward to reading more from you!

Polyamorously yours,

DannyR

Assume Nothing -- Deviant 5, CHAFF, 2009

Last year I had the privilege of attending the Human Rights Commission’s transgender exhibition and seminars at The New Dowse gallery in Lower Hutt. The exhibition is built around Rebecca Swan’s groundbreaking Assume Nothing, a beautiful photographic book that focuses on Kiwi transgender, intersex, transvestite, fa’afafine and takataapui people. Her work is innovative and daring, but shows a real sensitivity to and respect for the issues faced by trans-folk in Aotearoa. I was deeply, deeply moved by her work, and the workshops and seminars were fantastic.

Some of the photographs are in traditional portrait style, but there’s a lot of variety. Swan sometimes splits a portrait down the middle to show a transvestite person in both male and female garb or makeup, other times she uses a series of individual shots to show a drag artist’s progression from one persona to another. There are tasteful nude photographs, which answer all those awkward questions a lot of us have about what an intersex person’s plumbing looks like, but still convey the sense of the individual as a whole person rather than just an ensemble of genital bits and pieces, a medical oddity or freak. Some of the works are in black and white, others in bold colour. The real beauty of the collection is that Swan’s photography shows trans-folk as strong human beings with unique life histories and perspectives, real people with individual stories and experiences.

The seminars are an opportunity for the public to interact with some of the people who have put themselves forward in Swan’s work, to hear about their struggles and triumphs first-hand, to learn more about how our society has discriminated against transgender people in the past, how it continues to do so now, and how we’re changing that. I met some really inspiring people from all sorts of different backgrounds, and got answers to some of the questions I’d always had but had been too embarrassed to ask. Ultimately, I came away with a deep admiration and respect for some incredible people, people brave enough to be who they truly are in the face of scorn and rejection from their families, friends and society at large.

The great news is that both the exhibition and the workshops held by the HRC are coming to Palmerston North this year, Te Manawa is hosting the exhibition from the 28th of February until the 7th of June, and the workshops will be held on the 14th, 18th and 19th of March. You don’t have to identify as trans to benefit from these workshops, either. I really recommend you get yourselves along if you can – they’re informative and fun, and you’ll learn a whole lot, I guarantee it.

DannyR

(This piece was accompanied by a brief summary of some Do's and Don't's from another person's work, below)

Trans Etiquette 101

Micah Bazant, TimTum: A Trans Jew Zine

DON’T freak out if you don’t recognise someone’s gender or age, or get it wrong. Apologise (once is enough), and make sure you get it right next time.

DON’T interrogate them about their trans status.

DON’T assume you have the right to any medical or anatomical information about their body or genitals, it’s none of your friggin’ business unless they decide to share that with you.

DON’T EVER share the information that someone you know is trans or intersex, it can be humiliating or even dangerous for that person if you do so. A lot of trans people just want to get on with their lives without people knowing, and besides, ‘Outing’ someone for anything is a pretty shitty thing to do – they have the right to do it themselves if they choose to.

DON’T ask what their given, or ‘real’ name was. This is extremely rude.

DON’T assume you know the details of their transition, they may not be transitioning at all, or might choose to have some operations and not others. Again, none of your business.

DON’T ask if they’re sure about it, or remind them that it’s permanent or anything like that. Most trans people have already done a lot of soul-searching to get to where they are.

DON’T make this all about you, it might feel weird, maybe you’ve never had a trans friend or whatever, but however uncomfortable you’re feeling rest assured living as a trans person is a million times harder.


DO use the names and personal pronouns they prefer.

DO ask if you're not sure how someone prefers to be addressed.

DO take them at face value, let them be who they are now. Leave the past and the future alone.

DO listen if your trans friend has something they want to share about their experiences with you – it’s an enormous privilege, and needs to be respected.

DO educate yourself about trans life, watch films (TransAmerica and Boys Don’t Cry are both fantastic), read books, watch TV shows (Ugly Betty is pretty good), look it up on the net (try http://www.agender.org.nz/ ) – there are plenty of great resources out there, it’ll help you put yourself in your trans friend’s shoes.

And most importantly,

DO treat each trans person as an individual – we’re all unique and not one of us is the same as anyone else.

Catastrophe!!

Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!!

I slept in and missed the Student Association AGM!!

Aaarrghhhhh!!!!!!!


Being medicated sucks

Everything and Nothing

There are any number of labels and adjectives you could use to describe me. As an exercise, here's my own list, stream-of-consciousness style.

Bisexual. Polyamorous. Male. GenderQueer. Short. Pakeha. Pale. Brunette. Heavy. Timid. Nerdy. Quiet. Thoughtful. Apostate. Post-Gay. Musical. Literary. Creative. Artistic. Scruffy. Fantastical. Cautious. Reserved. Pessimistic. Untidy. Introverted. Repressed. Unusual. Fanciful. Needy. Emotional. Rational. Whiny. Reclusive. Ambiguous. Ambivalent. Bi-Polar. Liminal. Fun. Popular. Over-Committed. Inquisitive. Obsessive. Undisciplined. Unruly. Moral. Judgemental. Accepting. Tolerant. Neurotic. Suicidal. Self-Loathing. Average. Effeminate. Anxious. Arrogant. Vain. Depressed. Lonely. Talkative. Reticent. Secretive. Nonconfrontational. Poorly dressed. Whimsical. Passive. Lost. Worried. Moody. Meddlesome. Subversive. Poetic. Ironic. Bitter. Begrudging. Forgiving. Forlorn. Independent. Irritating. Curious. Quirky. Complacent. Concerned. Pedantic. Punctual. Submissive. Empathic. Compassionate. Escapist and Eloquent...

I am all of these, and none of these. I am ever-changing; there has never been, nor will there ever be, one concrete, permanent Danny Rudd. I'm always in the middle, in the grey, six of one, half a dozen of the other, neither here nor there.

Loathing

Dear S,

I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say to you anymore. I know I’ve been rude to you lately, but sometimes I just don’t want to look at you, I don’t want to talk. The thoughts are all mixed, I can’t make any sense of my life.

You’re better off without me. I’m childish, selfish, paranoid, neurotic, moody, pessimistic and angry. I’m not there for you nearly enough, I don’t visit your house nearly enough, I don’t ask you about your day, I’m vain and attention seeking and self-obsessed. I wait for you to text me so I can ignore it. I think of you as my enemy rather than my boyfriend – I don’t think you’re on my side, I don’t think you’re interested in me, I feel like you’re always more interested in dvds and my computer than you are in me.

I’m not good-looking enough, I think you could do a lot better, and I take your interest in other people as proof of my own inadequacy. I think you’re a bit of a hypocrite, you want monogamy but you’re always checking other people out online, in movies and in real life – to me it’s the same as actually sleeping with them. You’re a lot better looking than me, I get comments all the time, and sometimes I wish you’d cheat on me or tell me to fuck off. I want you to hit me instead of have sex with me, I want you to call me fat, stupid, lazy, selfish and pathetic. I think I gave up on us a long time ago, before we broke up the first time. And in 2008 I guess I gave up on ever being in a relationship with anyone again.

I missed you, but I got used to the idea that I was going to be lonely the rest of my life. I can’t function sexually anymore, I don’t want anyone to ever see me again, and I don’t want to be touched. I can’t get you off anymore, I’m not what you want.

I want to kill myself – I think about it a lot – I don’t want to make it to 30. I imagine hanging myself, setting myself on fire, walking out in front of traffic, overdosing in the bath. Sometimes I actually try it. I’ve started throwing up again. At the UniQ conference in Auckland, while the rest of you went out clubbing, I went to the park and made myself puke out everything I’d eaten that day. I spent a little while crying, and then when I ran out of tears I climbed on the motorway barrier and tried to will myself to jump. What stopped me was not a will to live but fear of pain and the fact that couldn’t ruin someone else’s life that way.

I feel like I’ve boxed myself in, painted myself into a corner – I’ve made sexuality my whole life, stupidly, knowing that it’s something distresses me, that sexual satisfaction is something I can’t ever have because my life situation prevents me – now I’m too old, fat and ugly, I have too many mental health problems, and my body doesn’t work. I wish I was asexual, but the more I want it, and the more my body keeps responding sexually – though never fully – the more sex disgusts me.

I have made myself a laughing stock by being openly bi and polyamorous, people don’t want me and it’s because I’m fat and ugly. The gym won’t change that – neither will dieting – all that happens is that the skin gets looser and the stretch marks get worse. I’m sorry I ever mentioned it to anyone – I’ve probably embarrassed you too. I never want to be seen again, I just want to die. I keep thinking about suicide but I’m scared of getting it wrong and ending up even worse off. I have every intention of doing it before I turn 30. And I don’t want anyone to know what happened – I want to just disappear. No funeral.

It’s hard to look at you because I think you’re beautiful, and you make me look even uglier. When we go anywhere together I think I hear people laughing at me, calling us ‘fatty and skinny.’ I never want you to take my photo again, I want all photos of me erased or burned.

GRRR!!!!!! -- CHAFF 2 2009

What gets me, I mean, what really gets me, is the arrogance.

I had trouble with my enrolment for Semester One this year, enough to cause me to lose sleep and have homicidal thoughts about the various administrative staff with whom I came into contact in the process. The story goes that due to illness combined with some distressing family circumstances I had to withdraw from my papers in the second semester last year, and the university granted me fee exemption and automatic re-enrolment due to the unforeseen and exceptional nature of the situation. I went to StudyLink and told them what was going on, and provided the documentation they asked for, which included letters between my doctor, a counsellor on campus, the university and myself. The agreed course of action was that I would take a break and get better, enrol in a Summer School paper to keep my hand in, and continue with full time study as of the first semester this year.

So I enrolled for Summer School, having sorted out most of what I needed to sort out to get myself well. I started going for regular doctor’s and counselling appointments (by the way, the Student Counselling services here are really good – I recommend it if you find yourself floundering or stressed out). I sat my ass down and got reading, I was disciplined and diligent, I really applied myself and got the work done, handed in my assignments. It was all good.
Then I find out – at the end of the semester no less – that my access to Library services has been cut off, a bugger if you have no internet access at home. I go to Registry to ask what’s up, and I am informed ( in what I can only describe as a curt manner) that because my Summer School fees hadn’t been paid my results for my work over summer would be withheld, and that my enrolment for the First Semester wasn’t going to be processed.

I thought this had been cleared up months ago. Luckily the Summer School paper I had chosen was entirely internally assessed so I didn’t have to worry about not being able to sit an exam, but I’m pretty pissed at this point because I had made sure I’d gone and done all the paperwork before I even started Summer School, and had received assurances that I had the green light. So I ring StudyLink and ask what the Capital F is going on, and am told that the problem is because they had thought my withdrawing from Semester Two the previous semester meant I was done with university study.

I then had to run around getting the various correspondences to provide to StudyLink again because they claim to have no record of them, and then talk to the university explaining the situation. The university then rings StudyLink for verification, StudyLink acknowledges the fault and says they’ll fix it up, and I’m promised that it should all be cleared up in three working days.
I was pretty stressed by this point, I was having what I think are quite justifiable fears (given the lack of communication) that I would not be enrolled in time and that my allowance would be cut off unexpectedly while studying, and so on my next counselling appointment I told the sordid tale and my counsellor went off to make a phone call, I guess to see what the story actually was and come back with assurances that would put my mind at rest.

Well he came back, but the news wasn’t good. Even after the university contacting StudyLink directly to see why the Student Loan payment for my Summer School fees hadn’t gone through, even after StudyLink had acknowledged they’d fucked up and promised to rectify the situation, nothing further had been done. I was still in limbo. But after a bit of further harassment by my counsellor and the university, the resolutions were actioned and it all went into processing, which I was told would take about three days or a week. Again.

The part that really, REALLY gets to me is the aforementioned arrogance. Everyone I spoke to in this administrative process -- from both the university and StudyLink -- treated me like I was causing them hassles they didn’t need, like I was just a complication, like it was my fault that things hadn’t gone smoothly, when the truth of the matter is that it was poor communication between the two organisations and staff at StudyLink failing to follow through on procedures that was really to blame. The admin staff at both just go with the assumption that the student is in the wrong, and it’s both insulting and unfair. I went through all the hassle of consulting with the university and StudyLink when I made the decision to withdraw last year, I provided all the required documentation and got their advice and information about what I could expect, and yet it would have gone more smoothly and caused me less anxiety in an already trying situation if I had simply failed the papers for which I was enrolled, given my good academic record. I should point out that I’m not alone in my anger and frustration, it seems a number of my friends have experienced similar attitudes from staff and had similar complications, even without the medical dramas.

Why all this confusion? Why is documentation going missing, why are StudyLink decisions being suddenly reversed, why aren’t agreed resolutions being followed through? I attribute it to what I see as two serious failings in the way StudyLink operates. The first is that students are largely excluded from the actual decision making process. When calls were going back and forth between the university and StudyLink, though I was physically in the room I was shut out of the conversation, it was all jargon and acronyms, with no explanation offered to me of what any of it meant, in fact no questions or comments directed to me at all. It was bloody confusing, is what it was, and then I was pretty much shunted from the office without any clarification. I had to actually go and make further enquiries at reception just to find out what the hell had just happened.

The second problem that I see is that StudyLink doesn’t actually assign case-managers, and so you end up talking to several different people, none of whom consult with each other or go higher up the chain when they’re not sure of what to do in a particular situation. Person A says the appropriate action is such and such, and then Person B, not knowing why person A did that, simply says ‘Oh well, that wasn’t the correct action to take, we’ll have to change it,’ and so on. Decisions are overturned because the people making the initial decision aren’t familiar with the case history or sure what to do and so they guess. A few minutes consultation or even rescheduling the appointment with the client to sort out exactly what the current standing of their application is would be adequate, and having particular staff assigned to particular cases would make this a lot easier. It would certainly mean friendlier service.

DannyR

CHAFF Review - Gran Torino

Gran Torino A+ or 9.5/10

Directed by Clint Eastwood. Starring Clint Eastwood, Christopher Carley, Bee Vang, Ahney Her.

I wasn’t really sure what I was getting myself in for when I agreed to go to see Gran Torino with some friends on my birthday, all I knew was that it was something about an old guy and a car, and that said old guy was Clint Eastwood. Sure, cars can be cool, and old people are fun to laugh at occasionally, but I was kind of amazed that Clint Eastwood was even still alive, let alone making films. So it was with much trepidation that I accepted my free ticket and jumbo-sized cup of branded, carbonated sugar-water and trudged into the theatre.

The movie starts with unpleasant old bastard Walt Kowalski at his wife’s funeral, standing stoically beside the coffin and observing his family as they enter the church, disgust and disapproval radiating from him. Everything you need to know about Walt, you learn in the first ten minutes – his two adult sons want nothing to do with him, his grandchildren think he’s a waste of space, his daughter-in-law wants him put in a home so they can sell the house. He’s a war vet who worked on an assembly line for an American car manufacturer for 40 years, he flies the Stars and Stripes outside his front door, and his pride and joy is his 1972 Gran Torino Sport (which, by the way, is a stunningly beautiful machine).

This man is a relic, a fossil, a dinosaur. But we can kind of relate, and that’s the genius and beauty of this movie. His grandchildren really are loathesome, grasping little shits. The way his own sons can’t be bothered with him, even when he’s just lost his wife, it’s just plain heartbreaking. This is a man who must stand by and watch as everything he and his immigrant family worked so hard for, for so many years, is simply discarded – forgotten, deemed worthless and irrelevant. This is a man watching the sun set on the American Dream.

But Walt finds the things he values – hard work, family, respect for elders, pride in one’s heritage – in the last place he expected to see them. After the funeral, at his wife’s wake, he quietly slips out the front door of his own house, unwanted, unnoticed, alone. It’s heart-wrenching. And that’s when he first sees his new neighbours moving in – a family of Asian immigrants, excited and noisy, being all foreign and stuff. Eastwood’s lip curls in that iconic grimace we’ve all seen a thousand times, and Walt’s disgust is plain to see. There goes the neighbourhood, the sun has set.

But Walt comes to see that though at first glance we may not see any common ground between us and those alien to us, by looking under the surface and behind closed doors – literally, in this case – we can find a lot to respect. The film progresses slowly, set against the backdrop of a decaying suburbia rife with violent crime and gang warfare. Through his entanglement in the lives and struggles of his new neighbours, Walt finds that all is not lost, that he can still make a difference, that standing up for what he believed in was not a waste of his life.

After a bit of thought, I’ve decided that Eastwood has targeted this film at both the liberal Democrats, who have traditionally been more welcoming of ethnic minorities and change but intolerant of conservative values, and equally at conservative Republicans, who have dug in their heels and refused to acknowledge the changes the late 20th and early 21st Century have brought. And he does it brilliantly, by giving us a struggling, hard-working immigrant family to represent progressive concerns and a lovable old coot for traditionalists to relate to, showing how their interests come together and that each can learn from the other and that each has something valid to say. I’m surprised to be saying it, but Clint Eastwood is an amazing actor and director, and this might be the best movie I’ve seen in years. I loved it, it was moving, intelligent, and genuinely funny.

It also showed me just how much fun swearing and insulting others can be. In that spirit, then, I tell you to go see this fucking movie, you fucking dipshit wastes of taxpayer’s money. Peace out.

Danny Rudd

Unfinished

When anyone meets my beautiful friend
They're sure to fall in Lust;
They worship the ground he walks on as
Inevitably they must.

He's earthy and warm and strong and dark,
His eyes gleam like burnished brass;
Compared to the plucked and waxed faggots
He's an angel of ages past.

But what makes him so attractive
Is his cheerful honesty,
He's happy to see you and says so
He wears his heart upon his sleeve...

- DannyR

One Of Us! One Of Us!! -- Deviant 2, CHAFF, 2009

So you’re new to Massey, new to Palmytron, new to flatting and washing your own underwear and having your eftpos card decline when you go to buy 50c noodles at the supermarket. And you’re a homo.

Maybe you’ve only just worked it out, or maybe you’ve suspected for years that something was different about you, in between sneaking a look at Cosmo at the newsstand and turning tricks after midnight at the local public toilets. Whatever. Now you find yourself asking, just what is there to do in Palmerston North when you’re young, broke and lesbian/gay/bi/trans/etc?? Are you, in fact, the Only Gay in the Village??

Fear not, assorted fruits!! Deviant, your friendly neighbourhood Queer* page, is here to tell you all about the sheer fabulousity that is Palmy’s LGBT scene. Are you strapped in back there? Good, now sit back and enjoy the ride.

First stop on the tour, of course, is UniQ (pronounced yoo-nee-cue), Massey’s own Queer student social/support group. We meet on Tuesdays in town at our secret headquarters and work to implement our dastardly Gay Agenda (more on that later), sacrificing kittens to our Dark Lord and plotting to overthrow the government and destroy families. Also, we have cookies. If you’re interested, drop us a line at the email address in the side-bar and we’ll add you to the email list to be kept in the loop, or pop up to MUSA and ask – the staff are friendly and helpful and confidentiality is assured. We also bring you Deviant every week, so make sure you pick up a copy of CHAFF to see what we’re up to.

Then there’s the Manawatu Lesbian and Gay Rights Association (MaLGRA), our awesome local volunteer-run organisation that serves the LGBT community for the district. This is important, so listen up. MaLGRA provides some really great services and hosts some great events throughout the year. Let’s run through them, shall we??

Probably the main one you’ll be interested in is Club Q, our sooper-dooper Queer bar and nightclub down the end of Jersey Lane in town. It’s open Friday and Saturday nights from 10pm, and is a great place to meet people, get plastered for cheap and make eyes at hot guys/girls/whatever without getting your block knocked off. It is the place to be seen, darlink. There is a door-charge, but it’s only a few dollars and is more than made up for by the good music, friendly and safe atmosphere inside and convenience to buses and late-night pie-shops.

Don’t just show up though, because Club Q is run on a Clubs License you need to be a member, or the guest of a member, to enter. There are a bunch of membership options, the cheapest of which is $5 which is more than good enough, and someone who is already a member needs to vouch for you. This sounds like a hassle, but it’s actually a really good thing, it ensures your safety because let’s face it, there are still plenty of homophobic morons out there who feel threatened by anyone of the same sex thinking they’re cute and will smack a homo over for looking at them. But it does mean if you don’t know anyone who’s a member, you’re screwed, and not in a fun way. If you’re in that boat, come along to UniQ, get to know some of the gang, and voila! Problem solved.

MaLGRA also runs a couple of support groups, there’s a Lesbian/Bi women’s night at the club rooms on Wednesdays and a Gay/Bi men’s evening on Thursdays, same place. These groups hang out, go to movies, cafes, and shows, and are great if you want something to distract you from that assignment that’s due Friday. MaLGRA also runs a group for Queer kids in schools, Closet Space, but I’m guessing if you’re reading this you’re too old to go to that. However, if you think you might want to help out occasionally or get involved as a co-ordinator, enquire at UniQ or up at the Club and someone will have a talk with you about it.

MalGRA also puts on some really cool shows and things at Club Q some weekends, and they’re always looking for people to get involved as dancers/drag artistes/DJs etc... keep an eye on Deviant through the year for upcoming events and reviews.

There’s a social cricket match that happens every two or three weeks while the weather is good, it’s usually Lesbians vs Homos but it’s pretty relaxed so anybody can join in, and sometimes the boys actually win!! If sports aren’t your thing, just showing up to watch the drag queens run in heels is always worth a giggle.

And of course there are plenty of things to do that aren’t specifically LGBT-themed but which attract the gays like ants to the delicious Goody-Gumdrops ice cream I dropped on the ground when that bully knocked it from my nancy homo hand just now. Treat yourself to a decent haircut in town occasionally, or chat up the male shop assistants in clothing stores. Try local performing arts groups like the Massey drama club or the Fire Club, attend a poetry evening, check out what’s happening in the local arts scene by popping into the town library and picking up a brochure, or there’s my favourite sure-fire way to spot homos – just hang out at the gym and observe as they pose, pout and preen.

Remember you don’t have to go it alone, there are plenty of people around to help out and to hang with, so make ’09 your year, get active, get involved, get freaky and have fun, ‘cos Palmy (and university generally) is what you make of it!!

*Queer is a reclaimed word that represents sexual and gender diversity, including lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, takataapui and fa’afafine identities, and we acknowledge that it is not the preferred term for everyone.

DannyR

What I Did In My Holidays -- CHAFF 1 2009

Hello Chaffy peoples!!

Hope you all are feeling glad to be back and psyched for the new semester. I thought for a bit about what to write for this my first column of the year, I considered imparting the wisdom I gleaned over the last few months from venerable spiritual masters on mountains remote, but after much contemplation I decided that the most enlightened path is to tell you about the mountain of dishes that has slowly accreted on my kitchen bench, and why you do, in fact, give a damn.

See I flat with this one other guy in a pretty little dump in Hokowhitu , let’s call him B, he is still technically a student because he hasn’t graduated and still enrols every semester, even though every semester he promptly withdraws because he doesn’t have the time for study and this has been the case for about eight years now. He’s a great guy – best flatmate I’ve ever had in fact – but I’m starting to suspect he is actually planning to overthrow the government and set himself up as a tyrannical dictator bent on world domination. What tipped me off? Was it the maniacal laughter in the dead of the night, the plans of Parliament Buildings strewn around his bedroom floor, the furtive glances at the door when the police drive past the house? No, it was more subtle even than that. It was his absolute aversion to doing the dishes.

B will not wash his cereal bowl and spoon after eating breakfast. Every day he gets a new one out from the cupboard, fills it up with delicious, healthy Nutrigrain or muesli, munches his way through while reading Stuff and gossiping on Bebo or MSN or whatever you crazy kids are calling it these days, and then he unceremoniously dumps the bowl on the bench and dashes out the door to work. Wouldn’t be so bad if he ate everything in the bowl and maybe licked it clean afterwards as I was wont to do as a child, but no, every day I am confronted by another bowl of half eaten muesli and yogurt. And I’m stuck cleaning them up, because if I don’t they just don’t get done, and the smell of a bench-load of week-old bowls of stagnant, putrid breakfast mush is enough to drive me to homicide.

He could just rinse the bowl out, but he doesn’t. Ever. So I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s intentional. But he must abhor this nasal offense as I do, surely, I refuse to believe that anybody could simply fail to detect or be bothered by such a vile stench. There must be something else, some reason for leaving the loathsome goo out to moulder and curdle. And I think I know what that reason is.

He’s raising an army of ants. That’s the only rational explanation. Those bowls of muck are there to feed his legions of miniature monstrous minions, because sure enough, if I don’t endanger my health and sanity rinsing off those unwashed bowls every morning the bench-top, and indeed the entire kitchen, is quickly overrun and conquered by those little fuckers. Millions of them. My quiet unassuming flatmate is in fact the Emperor of the Ants.

Yes, it’s terrifying, but fear not, children, for I will not bow before this scourge, this army of irritating arthropods. You may rest in your beds at night, secure in the knowledge that, and I alone, fight the battle for Palmerston North, -- nay, the world -- armed only with a plastic dish brush, a pair of pink rubber gloves and a can of Raid. Be grateful. I may yet ask for payment, and it may be more than you can afford.

I’m quite partial to Toffee Pops.

Danny R

CHAFF Review -- Underworld

Underworld 5/10

Starring Kate Beckinsale, Scott Speedman, Bill Nighy

K, so I watched this one recently on DVD with friends because we all know the newest instalment in the Underworld trilogy is coming out at theatres soon. It’s been a few years since I saw this picture, I only remembered that it had something to do with vampires and werewolves and that everybody was wearing big Fuck-Off boots and tight shiny leather like in The Matrix (such things tend to stick in my mind).

I’ve always thought vampire films were a bit wanky and pretentious, and this one’s no different. With the exception of hot-as-hell-but-cold-as-ice Selene (Kate Beckinsale), a Death Dealer committed to assassinating werewolves with guns – big ones, lots of – the rest are pretty standard fare, lounging around on sofas being bored and boring, sipping red wine (Or is it?? Come on people, CLICHÉ!!) And watching it, you don’t really give a damn about any of them.

The Lycans, the werewolf clan that Selene and her nocturnal crew are hunting, are as hairy and muscular in human form as their vampire counterparts are sleek and stylish. They look like drug dealers, until they get all big and monstrous in the moonlight and start climbing walls, lurking in sewers and dark alleyways and being vulnerable to silver bullets. And of course there aren’t any girl-werewolves. So again, pretty standard.

The plot, while a bit convoluted at times, isn’t too bad. The main story revolves around Selene , who finds herself attracted to a human, Michael Corvin (Scott Speedman) who is being targeted by the Lycans. After Michael is bitten by Lycan boss Lucian, Selene has to decide whether to do her duty and kill her man-crush or go against her clan and save him. Typical Romeo and Juliet stuff, but with lots of biting and blood-sucking.

I remember the film’s fight sequences as being pretty impressive when I saw it at the cinema in 2003, but I think they lost a lot in the translation to the small screen (so if you want to see the new movie, I’d suggest seeing it at the cinema). Watching this first instalment again, I’m struck by how loud this film is, it’s all howling, screaming, and gunfire. But then, I guess that’s to be expected.

In fact probably the best thing about Underworld is its soundtrack, which successfully creates the film’s dank and moody atmosphere, making up for the sometimes awful dialogue and acting. There’s a great blend of metal, hard rock, industrial, and gothic tracks, my favourites being David Bowie and James Maynard Keenan’s Bring Me The Disco King and Puscifier’s brilliant Rev 22:20, one of the seediest and most irreverent songs ever penned.

All in all, I have mixed feelings about this movie. Sometimes I think I like it, sometimes I think it’s awful. The critics certainly weren’t kind; one said, “This is a movie so paltry in its characters and shallow in its story that the war seems to exist primarily to provide graphic visuals,” while another has said “[B]y any reasonable standard, this dark vampire epic — all massive overacting, cologne-commercial design and sexy cat suits — sucks.”

Danny Rudd

More Ecco Art

Crappy New Year

Ok it's been 2009 here for ten hours, I saw the New Year in by myself at home, watching Transformers and Edward Scissorhands, both cell phones turned off. Everyone else is, as far as I know, off at Vinegar Hill.I'm keeping to myself a lot these days, I don't want to be near anyone. I don't want to have any sort of feelings, I just want to die. I'm nearly 29, I'm fat and ugly, and my twenties have been an utter disaster. I can't even be bothered writing down why I feel like this.I'm just so tired.

To T & E, Happy Xmas

What could I write on this card?
I haven't got a clue,
There really isn't room to fit
Alll that I'd wish for you.
I'd wish you happiness and joy,
and wealth, and friends and fun;
I'd wish the stars, I'd wish the moon
I'd wish the morning sun.
In fact I'd find it hard to stop,
I should just keep it plain
And settle for one wish for now -
A perfect Christmas day.

- DannyR

Will you just LISTEN already??

When people learn that I have a mental illness, everything I say tends to be filtered through their existing preconceptions of what the mentally ill can and cannot do.

Let's say I have an argument or an unconventional belief - however well thought out and logical, however long it's taken me to come up with it - it's inevitably seen as a sort of twisted logic, I can't possibly be right. Homosexuality or bisexuality? It's because I'm ill. Polyamory? It's because my illness has distorted or warped my views on love and trust. The right to die? That's my depression talking.

People confuse causation with correlation. My bisexuality doesn't cause my depression and anxiety, neither is it a result of it. Polyamory is not a symptom of mental dysfunction, it's a position I take based on my understandings of human biology and psychology, it simply makes more sense to me than compulsory monogamy. I would change my opinion on it if I found evidence to the contrary. And my stance on the right to end one's own life is something I have come to having witnessed first-hand the misery and despair that failing health often brings. I strongly believe in human dignity, that people should be given the choice to take control of this one last aspect of their lives and that their loved ones should be free to assist them (or not). It’s respect for humanity - not weariness of it - that brings me to this conclusion.

Sure, when I’m deeply depressed I might think of ending my life, and sometimes these depressions last for weeks at a time. But that impulse is coming from a different place than my intellectual stand on the right to die. If I were someone else with the authority to grant permission for Danny’s death, I would refuse it, because I understand that Danny is not capable of making a rational choice at those times.

I think other people’s confusion of causation and correlation with regard to my unconventional thoughts is largely due to their simply not knowing enough about mental illnesses and the people who are affected by them. It’s assumed that my problem with depression and anxiety affects me all the time, people often fail to understand that I have significant periods of lucidity that outlast the periods of depression. In those periods, I have ample time in which to think rationally and clearly, and to reflect on whether my beliefs and understandings are the product of my illness or whether they are actually valid conclusions.

Yes, I probably do have experiences in my life that make me more likely to hold some of the opinions I do and feel the things I feel, who doesn’t? But I get frustrated with people thinking that I am incapable of thinking critically and discerning truth, that I am blind to my own condition and to the thought processes of ‘normal’ people. I think if anything my lapses into illness force me to be more critical, particularly of my own thought processes. I can’t take anything for granted.

I guess the point I’m trying to make here is that you can’t attribute any observable aspect of my being to another, as such, at least not without a fair bit of investigation. My mental illness is not a symptom of my polyamory, bisexuality or beliefs about death, neither does it cause any of these. It is another facet of me, it may have developed alongside some of these ideas and beliefs as a result of quite unrelated circumstances, and perhaps the marginality of my positions on these issues makes me more likely than most to experience mental illness, but you cannot attribute one to the other. Evidence from studies of other individuals and groups with these beliefs and conclusions exist, and they simply don’t support a causative hypothesis.

November 17 2008

Seven years.

I've been a self-admitted out homo for seven years today. And right now, I don't see anything to celebrate in that.

Being honest with myself and others - that was what it was all about. I believed so strongly that truth was the most important thing in life, that honesty was a force to be reckoned with. I thought I would change what 'gay' meant in New Zealand, I would reconcile homosexuality with faith and spirituality. I would prove that it was possible to be both Christian and gay. I guess I was hoping to change Christianity too.

But I couldn't do it, could I? Trying to make sense of the Bible's stance on homosexuality, I could come to no other conclusion but that the Biblical writers didn't know what they were talking about, and that actually, the truth wasn't really so hard to see. The Biblical writers were just bigots, pure and simple.

It didn't stop there though. I found I could not be selective about what I took from the Bible, it was either all inspired or none of it was. I discarded Christianity, and it was one of the most painful things I've ever had to do. I felt robbed of the world I had invested so much of my life in, my whole purpose and meaning. I guess I've been grieving ever since.

Certainly no 'family,' bological or otherwise, has lived up to the love and community I experienced with the Church of Christ. With my spirituality in tatters, I threw myself into the gay community, hoping to find the same sense of belonging. I didn't find it - I was largely ignored because I was neither rich enough or pretty enough.

But I didn't give up on the gay community, again, I sought to reform, to guide, to support and encourage. I became deeply involved in caring for and protecting queer people - I joined the Wellington Gay Helpline, helped with the Newcomers' support group for gay men, campaigned for gay rights with the Civil Union Bill and wrote to newspapers, even contributing regular articles for Deviant, the weekly gay page in the Massey Student newspaper.

Maybe I got so involved in supporting the queer community because I myself was in need of that support. I always seem to be outside the norm, even within the queer community. My committment to honesty has seen me try to find responsible alternatives to the world of nominal monogamy, first looking at open relationships, then polyamory. I've renamed my sexual and gender identity to have more integrity with who I am, from gay to bisexual to queer, and now genderqueer or possibly even transgender. And it seems that my committment to honesty and integrity actually hurts me more than it helps.

I'm lonely. I am so overwhelmingly, desperately lonley that I spent last night, before this anniversary, contemplating suicide, and actually seeking advice on how to go about it. This isn't a new thing either, most of this year I've felt completely alone, utterly hopeless. What good is polyamory if nobody will love you in return? Why be open about your capacity to love multiple people if not even one person will hold your hand?

And this is the great irony of my life. I've constructed my whole abult life around promoting love and letting people be sexual in whatever way is most true for them, and yet I personally hate my romantic and sexual impulses. I want to mutilate my genitals more than what my parents already have by circumcising me, I want to tear at and scar my body to hide the physical scars left by my ambivalence toward food ands exercise, to hide my ugliness. I want to take apill to forever erase my passions, but more tah that I just want to leave the world I can never be part of - I want to just die.

Because this is me, I'm an all or nothing sort of person. If I can't love you, and that person, and that one, then I want to love no one. If nobody wants to have sex with me, I want to be completely invisible and blind, so that I see no one and no one sees me. I either can't stop eating or I don't eat at all.

Why am I talking about this? Why haven't I just swallowed a bottle of bleach or slit my wrists?

Because that's also who I am - I'm scared. I'm not scared of what's on the Other Side, because I no longer believe there is one. Death is just a blessed release, the end, the light going out. But I'm scared of getting it wrong, of failing and ending up crippled or incarcerated. I'm scared of the pain. I wish someone would do this with me, or for me.

I await oblivion.

Remembrances and Recriminations: A Year in the Life -- CHAFF 26 2008

So, the last Chaff for the year already!! Wow… the year has just flown by like so many flying monkeys off to terrorise dopey little girls in shiny red shoes and their irritating yappy dogs.

I don’t know about you lot, but for me 08’s been a bit of a rollercoaster… there’ve been plenty of highs, a few lows, some terrifying plungey bits in between and perhaps a bit of puking along the way. It’s got me looking back on the ride, and thinking that a fair bit of what we learn at university isn’t actually in our textbooks and tutorials, it’s what we learn outside of lectures and assignments, in our everyday lives.

So what have I learned this year? Anything??

Well I learned what a Quick Fuck is. The drink, I mean, and how to pour it.

I found out there are dictionaries of sign-language in the library. Seriously – it had never occurred to me that deaf people might occasionally need a dictionary. We live and learn.

I learned the surest way to tell if a guy likes you or not is also the simplest. Girls and homos, listen up. If he likes you, he’ll be physically near you for some reason… he’ll find excuses. If he’s not, he’ll stay away. You can pine and moon over him as much as you like, daydreaming about how perfect he is blah blah, but if he’s not actually around you, it’s a sure bet that he’s not thinking of you the way you’re thinking of him. Guys mostly suck at verbal communication, they avoid it. So if he isn’t sweet on you, or worse, actually doesn’t like you (i.e.: he thinks your breath smells, he draws pictures of you in the back of his books that involve various sharp implements and quantities of blood etc), it won’t come out in his words, he’ll just avoid you. On the other hand, if you see him often, like nearly everyday, if he shows up where he knows you’ll be and grunts, mumbles or stares at you, and if his reason for being there seems really random or silly, that’s almost a guarantee. If he blushes and stammers and stutters around you, that’s another good indication.

I learned that Sarah Silverman is f*cking Matt Damon, that Sarah Palin can see Russia from her house and that that constitutes ‘foreign policy’ for Republicans, that you should never trust a unicorn who wants you to visit Candy Mountain and that penguins can’t really fly, despite what David Attenborough would have you believe. Ah, YouTube, solace for the weary and fount of wisdom for the ages…

I’ve learned that people treat you the way you tell them to treat you. You tell them by your body language, facial expression and tone… what you think about yourself comes out in your non-verbal expression, and people pick up on that. If you don’t like you, you can’t expect anyone else to. And if you go around whining, saying “I can’t do this and that,” or “I’m not clever/brave/popular enough,” in a bid to get sympathy, then you shouldn’t be surprised when people accept that at face value. If you don’t look like you believe in your, nobody else will.

What else?? Making sure you get outside for even ten to fifteen minutes, for a walk or whatever at least once a day, does wonders for your stress levels. Even in winter, just taking the time to forget your schedule, your workload and that essay that was due last Thursday, and getting outdoors for some fresh air, can really help alleviate the anxiety. I’ve started walking through the Esplanade on my way to Massey, even though it’s five minutes out of my way, just so I can hear the breeze in the trees, see the flowers (or in winter, the mud) and just forget all the hassles for a few minutes, and it really lifts my mood. I recommend it to anyone – and if you can’t do it on the way to Massey, there are some nice gardens on campus to have a wander through.

I learned that Bebo is soul-destroying and encourages Obsessive Compulsive tendencies.

I discovered that lecturers are people too, not scary ogres hiding away in their offices who will rip your head off and shit down your throat if you dare to ask a question or ask for an extension (well, MOST of them aren’t). A lot of them actually like students coming to see them. Weird, I know.

I’ve learned that if you don't learn to say 'no' then you end up being expected to do everything, in your flat, your club, even with your family and friends. They just assume that you haven’t got anything else to do, or that you’ve got everything else under control. Rather than take on extras which you can’t handle, overwhelming yourself and inevitably letting other people down when it all turns to custard, it’s better to just say ‘No’ from the outset, explaining why, and if they don’t like it then tough. Your mental and emotional well-being is more important.

What’s more, there are people here at Massey to advise and support you when it all goes pear-shaped or gets out of control… the Student Counselling service is great, even if you just need someone to have a good ol’ bitch to, about flatmates, assignments, work, family, whatever. You don’t have to feel that you gotta do it all by yourself. Then there’s the Student Learning Centre too, they can be really useful at the start of a long or difficult assignment, they’ve got tons of helpful tips and they’re pretty friendly. I got some awesome handy tips from them for studying towards my exams last semester.

I learned that The IT Crowd is the most fuck-awesome British sitcom EVER.

I learned that getting past years’ exam-papers off the library catalogue to see what you’re in for is a REALLY good idea. Best to do it near the start of the semester, though, it puts you in the right frame of mind for your assignments and classes, and it gives you a fair idea of what is and isn’t relevant.

Getting people in your classes together to study really helps too… you can go over stuff you’re not clear on if you’re too shy to ask the lecturer, it’s a good way to make friends, and if you’re like me and don’t live with other students, it’s a great way to stay in study mode after classes are done for the day. AND you can use it as an excuse to talk to that girl/guy/ambiguously gendered person that you’re sweet on.

I’ve learned that writing for CHAFF is a great way to spout off poorly-thought-out opinions and be publicly obnoxious, and get away with it (mostly). Good times…

I think I’ll leave it on that note, actually. If you don’t hear from me next year, it’ll be because William has murdered me and buried my body in a field somewhere. In that event, I leave my Furby collection and Britney Spears albums to Cassie.

Peace y’all,

DannyR.

Did It Again...

Ok so there's this guy, let's call him E.He has a partner, T, they've been together seven years, they seem really stable, and they obviously love each other a lot.I can't stop flirting with E, he's really sweet and smart, and I think he's pretty handsome. I'm not trying to break them up, I don't think I could compete with T, and I don't want to. E seems to like me a bit though, or maybe I'm just reading too much into it.I have to stop doing this. I just want to be asexual... so why can't I be?

Letters From Kids (1)

Ecco Art

CHAFF Review -- Iron Man

Starring Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeff Bridges

Grade: A- or 8/10.

I’ve never read an Iron Man comic, so I don’t know if the movie was faithful to its source material or not. I went in expecting just another slick, brainless superhero movie, the likes of Ghost Rider or Fantastic Four, which Hollywood is churning out with such alarming rapidity these days. But the opening scene of Iron Man surprised me – there was no need to consciously suspend the old disbelief because it felt like I was just looking at the real world, albeit a real world much occupied by Robert Downey Jr. The surprises came thick and fast from the outset, I was caught up and swept away. Five minutes in, I was staring up at the screen in disbelief… could this actually be a smart superhero movie?

But superhero movies have a certain predictability built in, don’t they? They all tell essentially the same story, something terrible happens to someone, giving him/her some special ability that confers on him/her an obligation to Protect the Innocent. And sure enough, after twenty minutes, with each new plot development I was able to make a pretty good guess where the story was going. The Bad Guys are profit-hungry, war-mongering Corporations, there’s a monstrous nemesis, a small circle of friends in-the-know, and the rich man who’s made a living off the misery of others grows a conscience… nothing new, and yet the tired old clichés still felt fresh somehow.

I found myself sitting there wondering if this movie would have been made if not for the success of Batman Begins and Transformers… it certainly has some of the feel of both, without the former’s dark, brooding atmosphere or the latter’s relentless Battle-of-the-robotic-Titans conflict. It’s difficult not to compare Iron Man with Batman Begins, especially, they’re both origin stories, both have protagonists who happen to be incredibly wealthy, who suffer personal tragedies that wake them up to the cruel world, both spend time creating formidable suits of war with which they will put Wrong to Right, yadda yadda, etc etc.

Robert Downey Jr.’s little moments of comedy were what made this movie for me. The movie’s Wikipedia page says he is a fan of the comic, and it shows. He poked fun at his character and the superhero genre throughout, his technological marvel breaking down in all sorts of amusing ways. His dialogue and delivery felt completely natural and ad-lib, it was witty and glib, there were none of the usual gasps of ‘You’re insane!’ directed at the villain, and not once did I feel the plot was being explained to me as if I was too stupid to get what was happening (most superhero movies do this – “I have to stop him from firing the missile launcher at the President’s jet!” etc). The robo-suit itself was pretty cool; the CGI blended seamlessly with pyrotechnic and robotic effects and there were some genuinely affecting moments. Gwyneth Paltrow didn’t suck. That is to say, I didn’t want to grind her face into the pavement every time I saw her, which is a refreshing first for me.

I don’t have many gripes with this film… the big bad villain didn’t feel threatening enough, perhaps, and the Final Conflict wasn’t all that epic. I was disappointed by the film’s portrayal of the only foreign-nationals in it… they happened to be Afghani, oppressed and terrorised by militant fundamentalists, and in need of rescuing by the good ol’ U.S of A… Only one of the locals in Afghanistan wasn’t having a gun thrust in his face or doing the gun-thrusting to his fellow countrymen, and he very soon died, but not without helping the shallow protagonist discover his conscience. Maybe not such a big deal, but it smacked of stereotype.

Overall, I really enjoyed this film, it’s got it’s flaws, but it’s one of the better examples of its genre and a damn sight better than most of the other superhero crap Hollywood puts out, with the exception of Batman Begins and maybe Spiderman 2. Check it out.

Danny Rudd

Aaaarrrggghhhh!!!!

Off to Wellington now to stay for a few days with Cookie in Petone... should be fun. I have a lot of reading and studying to do, but I hope to catch up with James, Tom, Gavin, Kris E, Antz, Russ, Andrew and Iain.

I've had a really stressful week so I wasn't going to go... but maybe the time out will do me good. In any case, I have to be down there for Tuesday because I have a contact course for my sociology paper about family and domestic life, the first essay's due next week and I need all the help I can get :D

I gave that guy D**** my number last weekend and haven't heard anything, so I guess he's not interested, and that depressed me. I think he's gorgeous... why is it that any guy I'm interested in doesn't spare me a second glance, it's only the ones I'm just friends with who like me that way??

My old boss from Honey Hive, Sandra, rang me last night and I had deleted her number, so that was embarrassing - I didn't recognise her voice!! She was nice, but I often felt she was only being nice because she wants me to open her new store here in Palmerston North next year. I don't want to be involved, but I don't know how to say no.

That's my big problem... I just can't say no. Guys I'm not into ask me out, and I just go along with it because I don't think I'm going to get what I want anyway. People ask me to take on extra responsibilities in the queer community, and I say yes. Someone can't be bothered doing their bit, and they ask me to take it on, and I do, however reluctantly.

I wish I could just tell people no!

CHAFF Review -- Prince Caspian

Directed by Andrew Adamson, Starring Ben Barnes, Georgie Henley, Liam Neeson.

Grade: B+ or 8/10

I came into this second Narnia movie really expecting to dislike it, given my reaction to the first film which, while undeniably stylish and clever, and somewhat redeemed by the amazing Tilda Swinton, was nevertheless a blatant attempt to shove Christian theology down the audience’s throats. That was certainly Lewis’s intent, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was remarkably faithful to it. Shuddering slightly, I expected much the same of Prince Caspian.

I was pleasantly surprised. The theology is there but it’s a lot more subtle, more a subtext that is gently brought up at a couple of points, it’s not nearly so intrusive. The story is allowed to take precedence, and it’s a better film for it. Aslan’s words to the ever-faithful Lucy, that “Things never happen the same way twice,” can be read either as a dig at doubters of miracles, as an invitation to suspend disbelief and revel in the fantastic, or as a hint that this movie won’t be anything like the first.

And it isn’t. From almost the very first frame, this second Narnia film more closely resembles an installment of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings than the shiny, bright The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. It’s visually much darker than its predecessor, and there are plenty of visual references to Jackson’s films, the most obvious being the lone hero on horseback racing across the plains, pursued by an arrowhead of dastardly foes. There’s the sweeping vistas, giant war machines and elaborate battle scenes, topped off with a whole lot of Nature getting angry.

The score was sometimes brilliant and evocative, sometimes a little irritating. The script was actually really good, and the leads were satisfactory in their roles, especially Caspian himself and his wicked uncle Miras. Oldest Pevensie child Peter is just as whiny and boring as he was in the first film, but he does get a brilliantly shot duel scene with the intimidating Miras. He’s completely outshone by younger brother Edmund however, who gets all the best lines and more interesting things to do.

I was more interested in how the film handled the girl’s roles, especially after Wardrobe, where they pretty much just sat on the sidelines and cried a lot. Here, Lucy can be seen to represent either the value of lion-hearted faith or a sense of optimism and wonder at the world, while older sister Susan is a woman of action, front and centre in all the big fight sequences and assertive in her relationships. Particularly refreshingly, there’s no inherently good and bad ‘us’ and ‘them’ of different races and peoples here, a definite improvement on the previous film and the books on which the films are based.

There were a couple of genuinely affecting moments scattered throughout all the action, some pretty frightening scenes that will probably give little kids nightmares for a while to come, and some light humour provided by Eddie Izzard as a talking mouse. I personally loved Adamson’s subtle visual nod to his Shrek films, involving a certain ginger cat. It’s as if with this film Adamson is saying “Watch out people, Narnia is going to be big.” And that might not be such a scary prospect after all.

Danny R.

Good Slut, Bad Slut -- CHAFF 2008

When I chose my life of polyamory, I was desperately worried that my friends would think I was some sort of sex-obsessed selfish pervert, and judging by some of their initial reactions, my fears weren’t entirely unjustified. So I made sure I distanced myself from all those nasty notions of ‘bad’ sluttery we’re all so familiar with; I was the very model of the ‘Ethical Slut.’

What do I mean by that? What is polyamory? Well, it’s a complex, difficult thing to define, but at its most basic it’s a commitment to romantic or sexual relationships that aren’t exclusive. In other words, you may have a relationship with your partner, and he or she may have another partner or more than one, and so might you. You might belong to a triple, instead of the more conventional couple we’re all used to, or even a quad. You might all share a house, or may live in separate homes, dividing your time between partners. Sounds wack, right? But polyamorists will tell you it’s only natural, that the lifelong exclusive romantic relationship we’ve all come to expect in the Western world is a cultural invention, and we can actually choose what works best for us each individually.

There’s a whole new language of relationships being worked out to deal with the complexities of polyamory… it gets pretty complicated. There’s your Primary Partner(s), the person or persons with whom you are in your most significant relationship, then there’s your Secondary and even Tertiary partners with whom you have slightly less involved relationships. To clarify – polyamory isn’t just a being in a couple that fools around a bit on the side, like ‘swinging,’ because you can actually have more than one Primary Partner (i.e.: everyone’s on the same footing), such as in a Triangle relationship. And it gets more complicated than that… your relationship can be closed (i.e.: nobody new can be brought in – that’s called Polyfidelity) or open to anyone (what some polyamorists jokingly call Polyfuckery).

The important point here, the REALLY important bit, is that it’s all honest and consensual – everyone involved knows what’s going on, and is free to participate or not. In other words, it’s NOT ‘cheating,’ because no agreements are being broken. In fact, polyamory is all about honest communication, negotiation and respect for the people you’re involved with. It’s NOT a traditional polygamous harem, where one man has several women at his beck and call (the stereotypical straight-boy dream), in fact, if you go onto any polyamory website you’ll find women are pursuing non-monogamous relationships just as much as men are, and that they’re happy calling the shots*.

Polyamorists say they’re just being realistic, that the Number One relationship hang-up in the Western world is ‘cheating’ and being ‘cheated on,’ that dishonesty around non-monogamy is widespread and wrecks a lot of otherwise good relationships, and that they’re just accepting human nature for what it is and moving past all the guilt and hurt by dealing with the issues in ways that are respectful and honest. They don’t think polyamory is right for everyone, they stress that it’s NOT a fix for a bad relationship (in fact it’ll just make a bad relationship worse), and they point out that it takes work – LOTS of work, and good communication skills. In fact, think of all the work that goes into a monogamous relationship, and multiply that by the number of partners in the poly relationship, and that should be enough to put you off, right? But even so, polyamorists will tell you it’s worth it, that “love shared is love multiplied.”

The polyamorist is careful to mention that it’s about love, not sex, and very often they reject labels like heterosexual, homosexual and bisexual when talking about themselves because those terms lead people to focus on the nookie – who gets it, with whom, and how often. Poly people frequently point out that they often have fewer sexual partners than people who practise serial monogamy, and that sometimes their relationships don’t even involve sex at all. A lot of polyamorists say that friendship IS a kind of polyamory… we don’t expect our friends not to have other friends, we accept that they might not want exactly the same things as we do, we let them live and grow and learn from others. It takes a lot of trust, great communication skills, and a willingness to tackle the hard stuff head on (like jealousy and insecurity).

The long and the short of it is that people who practice polyamory make a distinction between what they do and what people generally think of when they think about non-monogamy, which is dishonesty, deception, and rampant, indiscriminate promiscuity. Look at us, poly people say, we’re respectable!!

In other words, they don’t want to look like the ‘bad’ slut.

Who is this ‘bad’ slut? We’re all familiar with her/him. S/he is villainized in television, movies and popular song, because s/he has casual sexual relationships that don’t involve love, whether through ‘cheating,’ swinging, or just good ol’ fashioned promiscuous singlehood. The ‘bad’ slut ISN’T someone who cheats on a partner because s/he’s met someone s/he likes better and then leaves the first partner for the second, that’s pretty commonplace these days and, while hurtful, is generally accepted as just doing serial monogamy badly. No, the ‘bad’ slut is usually female (when it’s a guy his whoring around is usually celebrated – double standards people!!), s/he’s someone who enjoys sex for the sake of it and is happy to have it outside of relationships. And in our contemporary culture, that’s just not on.

Sociologists tell us that this state of affairs was set up by heterosexual couples hundreds of years ago, when romantic love stopped being just an adulterous liaison in the royal courts of Europe and started being seen (in the West at least) as a good basis for marriage. It’s not too much of a jump from sex as an expression of love within marriage to sex as an expression of love before marriage, as long as the two people do actually intend to get married. And from that it’s no big step to sex as an expression of love without marriage ever actually entering the equation, and to loving sexual relations between people of the same sex who aren’t allowed to get married. But it’s a much bigger jump from this kind of sex as part of a loving, intimate relationship to sex just for the fun of it, outside of a relationship, with whoever we want to have it with. That’s why promiscuity is still frowned on, why gay and lesbian couples can be together and be respectable and accepted, as long as they keep the sex in relationships.

As a culture, we don’t like people having casual sex, we tend to think it’s something you grow out of, or happily give up when you meet “the One.” Even recent shows like Sex and the City, for all their boasting of being about empowered women enjoying their sexuality, ultimately preach the old lesson that the most satisfying and fulfilled sex life is one that leads (even in the most roundabout way) to the traditional “Happily Ever After.” Maybe that’s what’s behind the recent rise in the popularity of polyamory: it’s non-monogamy, but it’s still playing by the rules. Kinda.

But there’s a problem with polyamorists calling themselves the “Ethical Sluts.” It implies that polyamory is the only ethical non-monogamy, it implies that people who are happy to enjoy sex outside of committed relationships are incapable of being honest with or respectful of their sexual partners. Essentially it reinforces all those old notions about the ‘bad’ slut, condemning all those whose non-monogamy takes other forms, such as the open marriage, friends-with-benefits or fuck-buddies, or sexually active but confirmed singledom.

Personally, I’m happiest in committed emotional relationships with at most two or three people, whether or not it involves sex. But I have plenty of friends who similarly aren’t the monogamous type, who don’t identify as polyamorous, and who are quite capable of being responsible and considerate of their sexual partners’ feelings and bodies. And then I have those weird and wonderful friends who are somewhere-in-between, being in honest, committed triples, quads etc, and still “playing the field.” Good on them, I say, if that’s what makes them happiest.

And yes, I have plenty of friends in exclusive, monogamous partnerships who are perfectly happy that way, and I’m perfectly happy for them too. I cry at their weddings and civil unions, I celebrate their engagement parties and anniversaries. There really is so much diversity out there, and it’s all beautiful. I wish everybody could see that.


* For more info about polyamory, see (among others):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0SX6SILmDs

http://www.polyamoryonline.org/

http://www.polyamory.org/

DannyR