For as long as I can remember I have been trying to figure myself out. Usually I find it easy to figure other people out. Most people are very much the same and they all have similar motives, needs and desires. Sometimes however I do run across that person that is a little more complex and mysterious. Generally though, its an easy task for me to get a pretty good estimation of whether I can trust someone or not, or if they have good or evil designs. Yet try as hard as I can, when I look deep into myself, I find many more questions than answers and I am lead to think that there is nothing about me that I can put any trust in. Everything must be thrown into the pool of doubt.

I think I have a pretty solid and rational basis for my beliefes--or lack thereof. I am of the thinking that every human action is driven by selfishness. All deeds we do, whether they be perceived as good or bad, are selfishly motivated. Just as the serial rapist feels a selfishly motivated sense of empowerment when he preforms his evil act, the chaste and generous nun feels a sense of good and fulfillment when she preforms her good acts. I think that the nun, even if she protests, must eventually cave in to the realization that all her motives are driven by selfish desire. Hell, her religion itself is based on the selfish desire for eternal life and eternal joy. If it weren't for those rewards the nun would not have gotten involved in her faith in the first place.

There are numerous other examples I could cite just of the top of my head, but that is not my interest. I think I have made my position clear on human motivation. Humans are essentially narcissistic creatures who interact on the premise of an all-pervasive selfishness. Humility is a topical guise most often attributed to the perceptions of others; not the humble themselves.

Now I am then forced to examine the nature of the selfishness of my own actions. Just as the nun's selfishness manifests itself as a good, does my selfishness manifest itself as a good? Furthermore, examining the nature of selfishness itself, is it inherently bad, good or can it be both? When held up to the bright light of ideals, such as the prototype of the selfless god, is selfishness a treait of evil or is the prototype itself a mistake?

Then I come to the notion that all these questions are a result of the influence of others, and as such are based in another selfishness. But that also means that they are the product of concepts, and that everything around us is actually not real. Everything we build our lives around and for are things that do not exist. They are impossibilities. These impossibilities include the American Dream, the concept of Beauty, Democracy, God, Heaven, Hell, Happiness, Griefe, and many others.

Is it possible then that nothing at all is real? Certainly one could not live his life convinced that getting dressed in the morning was taking part in a fantasy. Yet the act of getting dressed in the morning is rooted in an unreal and impossible concept. No longer is it an act of self-preservation. In earlier times men had to dress to protect themselves from the environment. Now men dress to further perpetuate the unreal and impossible mandates of a Judeo-Christian/Islamic concept that tells us that nakedness is wrong. So then perhaps it is possible that although the clothes themselves are very real, the selfish motivation behind it is the direct result of an impossible and unreal ideal.

I wish I had the time and eduacation to elaborate more on all of these questions and thoughts. Even as I write them down they are stewing and shaping and hopefully gaining more focus. But what could be the point of this exercise in the first place? My quest to understand myself may itself be the pursuit of an impossible ideal and should suffer the same fate I relegated religion to: fuck it.

Queer As Folk. It is hard to know where to begin with respect to this show and the people that watch it. It does seem ironic to me however that most gay people in my experience that are activists for any one of a number of gay "causes" (ie: domestic partnership recognition, same sex parents) also obtusely and enthusiastically watch a program that fuels the fire of conservative watchdogs and reinforces an already unfortunate stereotype that has been fed to the public. The sad reality of our society is that the loudest voices are always the ones given the most recognition. Sen. McCarthy, Al Sharpton, and Jerry Falwell are some notable and tragic examples. So it comes as no suprise to me that the loudest voices of the gay population are the voices belonging to all those who proudly parade as queens.
However, just as McCarthy, Sharpton, and Falwell are/were all opportunistic hotbags relying on argumentum ad hominem and slippery slopes, so likewise the parade of queens, and those that have assisted in any way shape or form to the production of QAF. That includes the viewers, without which the show would not exist.

So, if you think QAF is "real" or "accurate" I will grant you that. However, it is only real and accurate for a minority of gay men who define themselves with their sexuality and instead of developing their own personality, allow the "ideals" of others to do it for them. Sadly, your voices are most likely the loudest, and in the confines of a chatroom or dance club, you may feel you are in the majority. But McCarthy, Sharpton, and Falwell all fall by the wayside when their tantrums are finished, and so too shall you. Volume, confusion, rashness, and ill temperment shall never trump truth and reason.

Last night I went to a party. Some guy named Scott, I dunno who the hell he was but some friends of mine did and it was free booze and food so it was all good. Anyhow, I drank a couple glasses of Rum and listened to just about the queeniest faggots I have ever seen go on to me about religion and gonads and strife and, of course, other people. It was a good time but I tired of it after about two hours so I gave my friend the signal and we headed out of there pretty quickly.

We got back to the dorm parking lot and we were walking across a stream on a bridge, talking. The conversation was pretty heated and at one point we stopped and we talking to each other. This red-headed hippie-looking guy walked past us as we started walking again. I think he had been listening to our conversation for a little bit of time now. He chuckled under his breath and I turned and looked at him, and he was giving me this smug little smart-ass smile. I stared him down the whole time he walked past us and he kept giving me that smug smile; just begging me to take everything to the next level. Maybe it was the rum, maybe it is because I am an angry person; most likely it was a combination of the two, but I started for him.

My friend restrained me, and I kept trying to break away from him. I noticed the red-headed little shit had quickened his pace, and I broke free again and started for him, asking him if he really wanted what he was asking for. I made him aware I was at least twice as big as he is and would be able to take him down in an instant, without even having to breathe hard. Again my friend caught up to me and restrained me.

The same sort of thing happened a couple times before that little shit rounded the corner of his building and entered the safety of his cozy little irish pale-skinned cave-dwelling dorm room.

In retrospect, wow. I was really pissed off over a smile and a chuckle. I totally lost it. Was it the smile and snickering laughter? Was it just time for me to break? Was that really a break or is there something more severe waiting for me in the future? I honestly think had I thought of it at the time, I would have hurled a stone at the guy's head as hard and as accurately as I could. Do I wanna be that kind of drunk? How long can I keep that sort of thing up? Do I react to rum the same way I react to whiskey? Maybe I should stick to the vodka and stay away from anything else.

Well, not ANYTHING ELSE. Beer, gin and wine do not make me violent or upset.

Its the next morning now and I am still reeling. I am typically such a passive, non-violent person. In a way, I feel happy. I know that little twerp was running with his tail between his legs. But I also feel like there is a problem. I have to get help. My entertainment of violent fantasies and scenarios cannot be healthy, and last night was an incident of a time when I lacked the inhibition to keep a time of rage under control. Luckily for me I had a friend there to restrain me. Next time I might not, and that will spell disaster for my academic and post-graduate careers.

If you have any input, please write me or leave a comment. Thsi is one my head is really sorta swimming about. Thanks.