Accuracy Matters

I hate it. I really do.

I just listened to a recording of Lem Billings and Jack Kennedy and then watched footage of them as well. …In my gut Lem seems fake. Using falsetto in a form of appropriation. Trying way too hard to sound effeminate and gay. And when he’s relaxed you hear and see his real orientation and how uncomfortable he is and his innate sensitive awkwardness . …Or, at least, that’s my impression.

Basically, he seems like a liar on the matter. But so does Jack… *cringe* …Jack sounds madly in love. Desperate to see Lem. Depressed when Lem sounds even slightly cold or secretly disinterested. Not straight. Actually, Jack sounds like Ricky Ricardo *laugh* setting up an appointment with a prostitute. Lem being the prostitute. Or Lem bringing them. Or both. And poor Lem sounds…lobotomized. Unable to escape.

And yet their lies are and were so plausible if you’re not looking closely. And until the last year I believed them. Mostly. Not entirely. But mostly. And then I started writing my novel more intently in the last few years and suddenly I had the sense they were both lying… It’s complicated, but I suddenly felt disturbed when I considered it honestly. And it’s been bothering me ever since. Because if it’s true…it’s just one more thing we’re all supposed to mindlessly take for granted. Conform to accepting blindly. Even when our spirits tell us otherwise…

Did I get them right when I was child? Did I know Jack wasn’t straight? Lem wasn’t gay? Lem was faking it? Because that’s what I initially thought. What kind of miserable, plastic, idiotic lives are we all supposed to live if I was right? Was I right? Dear God…

The thing is…if I can talk to ghosts I’ve heard Lem’s real voice. And it’s still a bit nasal. A bit high pitched. But not like he sounds in the recording. It sounds like the same person which, of course, doesn’t phase me. *laugh and eye-roll* But it’s also deeper in a way. There’s no falsetto. It’s not at all effeminate. Should I have heard his real voice…he was faking the rest for certain. There’s no way around it. That or I’m hearing from a very clever demon. Because how do you explain me hearing a very specific voice before hearing it? That’s close to impossible. I mean, I promise I’ve heard an actual “disembodied voice.” It was his voice if ghosts exist.

No. I’m not lying. Sorry. I know you’d rather I was. And this is one post I’ll never take down. And guess what? Nobody is going “care.” Okay? *smile*

And you know what else?! I just watched this clip of a gay guy trying to read everyone’s orientation on “The Cut.” I got them all right. All of them. …All of them. Instantly.

I’m furious.

Also I think: Pat Wilson was bisexual. Joe found it very fascinating as he was straight and probably thought she was arousing and exotic. Hemingway was straight but queer? Fitzgerald was mostly just straight if not entirely so. But he possibly saw men he was amazed by on occasion or wondered. Zelda wouldn’t have identified. Harold Loeb was…likely straight but was so honest he would have wondered. (Bless him) …Lem was brilliant and confused as Hell and straight. Horrifically confused. Astronomically confused and messed-up… Marilyn was…straight and deeply wounded. Not asexual. Disturbed. Jackie was bisexual but she repressed it? Jack was either pansexual, bisexual or actually just gay. Something tells me he was pansexual and deeply ashamed of it so he tried extraordinarily hard to seem entirely straight. But it’s when he relaxes, which isn’t often, that he seems not straight….

My experience watching closeted people (like family) is that one’s true orientation comes out when people are genuinely happy and relaxed. Or when they show genuine deep emotion period.

What if I’m unusually good at detecting orientation? …It’s useful when you’re possibly talking to ghosts but it’s also very disturbing. I don’t necessarily enjoy just “magically” knowing soo much. It’s nice to feel normal, indeed.

I’m angry. If Lem was straight. He was such a liar. He had that entire family fooled. He has many people fooled today. He may have even fooled himself. To a degree. And I feel incredible rage. And not the typical sort…but rage that he got something soo important soo wrong and that everyone just blindly believed him and will go on doing so blindly. Even Jack who probably tried over and over again to make love to him got it horribly wrong if I’m right. Ruined himself. Wasted his heart. Probably destroyed Lem. Possibly got himself killed by his peers who maybe found it one more part of what was eventually all “much too much” to tolerate. …And I feel rage that people are so gullible in general. About all of these people. About every obvious lie…

Why can’t you all see what I do?! It’s far beyond exasperating. Stop being so jealous of me if you are. You have no clue.

And yes, I’m straight and not queer at all, you nitwits who would be assuming that right now. Stop just depending on idiotic stereotypes, confirmation bias, and other tricks to guess at people’s souls and spirits. Be more aware. It’s not a compliment to be so misunderstood. It’s Hell.

“I saw you.” he said.

I’m in shock.

How did this happen? It feels like yesterday I woke up from the most lucid dream I’ve ever had next to my stained glass lamp in my bedroom. And tonight I realized that that lamp sits near where a sofa I’m fairly certain I dreamt of sits. Actually, you could almost interchange the bed for the sofa… That was totally unintentional.

And now I realize again for a moment how real certain things are.

I think I’m different than most people in a way and it scares me. It’s just that I have a tendency to underestimate things that I’d bet most people rarely underestimate. In other words, where most people are naturally amazed I barely blink an eye to almost a fault. And it’s not that I’m a snob. I don’t think… It’s that I’m possibly unlike Amanda Trenfield to a degree that could be dangerous if I’m not careful. Or is it that unlike her I assume the worst when it’s dangerous to do so?

And what’s the danger either way? I’m not sure.

Maybe that’s just it. She can’t help but think a common but real attraction is profoundly epic. That’s her burden. And I can’t help but think a hurricane is simply a fascinating, really windy sort of rainy day with…more clouds…and just more… More rain. More rainy day stuff in the rainy day. …I mean what’s a hurricane anyway? Truly! …No, really… What’s a hurricane??? It’s just…weather. *shrug* Exciting weather…(for other people). Stress? Hurricanes are certainly very stressful. Drama. Lots of drama.

…And so my burden is taking myself more seriously than most people do? Or my burden is not letting the weight of history crush me before I can get back up to the surface to breath? …I relate to the ill-fated divers. But it’s not that I misunderstand risk. It’s that I’m good at it and then assume everyone else is too…and so what?

The danger is in following me too far. The danger is in assuming you’re me. Like me. The danger is in assuming you know what I know. The danger is in blindly going after me without knowing what you’re doing or where I’m going. The danger is in ignoring the obvious. The danger is in thinking that everything is obvious… The danger is in following me almost at all. If I’m not leading intentionally…be careful. Because look around, where are we? Can you see clearly? It’s dim. It’s but through a glass and dimly…so no matter. It’s just a forest with many trees.

And we’re all fools or children before God. And I’m His daughter or I’m simply a beautiful little fool with no hope.

Happy weekend.

…Stay on the beach.