Like it has to be about male or female. Straight or gay. Monogamous or promiscuous.
Normal or weird.
Damn it all, where are all of the people? It's not like there's anything but souls left over when all of the chaffe blows away. But maybe if we all yell loudly enough, we can forget that, and forge a museum piece for eternity of blood and tears and hate and misunderstanding, and get truly lost in the futility of it all.
I love people. I love their heart, and their imagination, and their potential, and their endless variety and possibility and wonder.
And I utterly despise their endless need to categorize, to castigate and castrate the imagination, hold an autopsy for the little remaining pieces and slam it all in a file cabinet somewhere.
What really set me off into this little rant was the Sorry for being a pervert node. It's written by people who, in my short time here at Everything2, have inspired me and amazed me...and they're appologizing for being themselves.
I've always looked at perversity as something brutish and short minded, the kind of thing done by men who like to rape small children and animals and young women...not be consulting adults in warm cuddly rooms, neh?
But of course, it's truly being different and outside the norm that's perverse. It's having a heart, and daring to have a voice, and daring to care, and not turn away from the face of the world.
To sacrifice one's heart, eternally and always, to the voice of the artist, of the mother, of the lover upon the open altar of life and the world.
Never, ever be sorry for your identity. For your specialness. Please. Or at least know that there are those of use who treasure that differentness, that specialness.