What goes through my head sometimes.

2002-10-25 - 7:15 a.m.

For those who care, the last entry was interrupted by three "I want a daddy"s and one "I want a Fred Flinstone."

Okay, I promise, I will stop whining about my job.

But, I have no taste for writing about gay marriage at the minute. I'm for it, but can see some of the more cogent reasons against it (summary: marriage is a heterosexual instution that can not, and should not, be expected to include all of the various and varied types of relationships that can impact our lives in many ways, both postive and negative. To institutionalize 'gay unions' would only serve to further marginalize other forms of relationships that may or may not be as valid as a long-term monogamous relationship, including, but not limitted to, serial monogamy, trans relationships, live-in friends, single parents, casual sex, fuck buddies, etc.). So, obviously the religious right are completely behind the times. "God says it's bad" is -so- 1980. Someone ought to send a memo to Jerry Falwell. Perhaps it could be delivered by Tinky Winky?

Ahem.

A few things:

-I started a short story that will probably never be published because it's fiction that looks somewhat sympathetically at a sniper, who is the protagonist. It's just something I had to get off my chest. I'll probably never finish writing it, but I wanted to explore the possibility, especially now that they've caught the real life sniper who has shot many innocent people and is certainly not a Nice Man (and neither is his step son.)

-The other night I had a very vivid dream where Pookie and I were at an airport and while we were going through the baggage check I wondered out loud if it would be possible to sneak a bomb onto the plane. This isn't really unusual, except for the outloud bit. The other day I was walking past an oil truck and realising that it would be quite easy to be a terrorist, especially if I valued my cause more than I value my life. I think about how to do stuff fairly often, usually out of a sense of morbid fascination: the life of a violent madman is one that I will never experience, and it is one that I can scarcely understand, and so I fixate on the mechanics. I can remember mentioning to Pookie out loud, in the train station, that it would be easy to bring a bomb, gun, etc onto a train or a bus. I don't know why I feel the temptation to push certain limits...maybe I just want to know what would happen?

Certainly, the post-9/11 world is not the world in which to experiment with security measures. Still, my dreams don't seem to know that.

-And I was going to add a third random thought, until I realised that the last two seem to have some similarities, and the third has nothing at all to do with writing irreverently or thinking irreverently. It more has to do with Pookie having one of his professors mention that he should apply to be the Dean of Students when he graduates, and talking about that would completely ruin the theme that my subconscious seems to want.

So, I'm going to end this now.

Cheers,

The Magus

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