Everybody's Got A Little Light Under the Sun

On a shelf above my desk at work various toys keep watch. A stuffed Boris Badenov leers. A gold lame and porcelain doll averts her eyes from the splendor and terrible fury of the Magic 8 Ball. A small replica of Hans Christian Andersen's mermaid surveys the pennies sliced and folded by friends and Exes trying out new Leatherman Tools, a joke there being too obvious to make. My little Andorian ambassador has apparently cut off diplomatic relations because today he's turned his back on me and the starfish a co-worker brought back from Florida; to wit, "I enjoyed my vacation! Please have this lovely dead thing!"

And who could blame her? When I bought the microwave, I also bought a small rug to stand on while I wash dishes. It is green and made of fleece, which makes the thing soft and inviting to the pussycat waiting for me to fix him a snack. In this purchase, I am well pleased, since it makes me feel as if I stand triumphant on the cushiony pelts of my enemy Kermit the Frog and all the males of his tribe. Hear the lamentations of their women! I am mighty! So all my might is standing in the shower this morning, soaping up with the shower poof, when the power cuts out. Because I am deeply enculturated, I immediately listen for the killer's theme music.

...nothing.

So I listen for the TV but Katie has quit yelping where in the world Matt Lauer is. Meantime, I am covered with apricot exfoliating suds. I try keeping one eye on the hallway to determine if I see subtle shifts in light or hear stealthy padding across the floor while I'm rinsing hokey-pokey-style: right foot in, right foot out...

I notice two important things:
1. The emergency light that is supposed to turn on when power cuts out does not turn on.
2. If I had just showered in natural light I would be as sanguine about an outage as Larry, the little black cat bent on stealing your soul, who remains perched on a carpeted thing I seeded with catnip but cannot train him to scratch. Until recently, I didn't bother turning on the bathroom light when I showered because what's the point? I know where everything is and what I should smell like if I apply the correct goo to the correct surfaces. Then I decided that was silly. Maybe I had it right the first time. Either that, or I'm still silly and haven't sunk deep enough to strike logic.

In any case, though I would prefer to be snoring adorably in my bed, I am in fact sitting upright at my desk. Earlier this week, one of my co-workers crumpled up the sticky note on my monitor: REMEMBER TO ACT NORMAL. I now lack guidance. Fortunately, there's good news from the homemade art front:

We're thrilled to announce that Girl Play will have its network television premiere this Sunday, November 13th on Logo network @ 10 p.m. So, those of you get Logo please tune in and tell your friends!

Also, don't forget you can purchase your very own copy of Girl Play on DVD, unedited and with special features at www.wolfereleasing.com

Thanks for your continued love and support,
The Girl Play Gang
www.girlplaymovie.com

Sharkey is one of the most politically conservative people I know yet he is full of surprises like that he tolerates me. This is the conversation we do not have:

Sharkey: George Bush is a decent, honest man of character and faith and I admire him.
Tata: Someone should give George Bush a blowjob so we can impeach him already.*

We don't have that conversation. We know where we stand. He is open to all sorts of things you might not expect, like when Sharkey turned up with news that a friend from grammar school co-wrote a movie and we were embarking on a class trip to a gay movie theater in Manhattan, and our friends might be the only ones with Y chromasomes in the whole joint. Our excursion was a blast. The movie was and is really funny and worth your time. And I already love LOGO for broadcasting the decidedly cancelled Wonderfalls. Ladies and gentlemen: start your TiVOs!

The distances between people hold firm like anger but are really carved by fear of the unfamiliar, and I wish everyone had a gay son or daughter, sibling or parent. Most of us would find out there's nothing to be afraid of, nothing to bring shame or to hide. Some will never get it, and I feel sorry for them, really. There's enough paralyzing loneliness in the world that arbitrarily cutting oneself off from the possibility of friendship, companionship and love on the basis of sexual orientation seems like sad comment on the smallness of a life.

Hey, friends! In the words of Beetlejuice, "Let's turn up the juice and see what shakes loose."


*Not actually my line. Can't remember where I saw it. Senility's a 9-volt bitch.