What, I ask, is life — without a touch of music in it?

I miss singing.  I love singing, it’s as natural and essential a part of life for me as breathing and sex, but much like the latter I do far too little of it.

I grew up surrounded by music, was seldom without. Weekly church services always included singing, hymns for four parts — soprano, alto, tenor, bass. I often sang specially arranged choir numbers, practicing near-endlessly my parts.  I would participate in each year’s “Sing-Along Messiah” in December, as one of the people who knew what they were doing who could help the other less sure voices.  My family would frequently gather together around the piano and sing, flipping through various bits of sheet music, much of it religious tunes.

And I miss the music.  I hate the dogma and doctrine and disgusting deity tied up in all of that, because that was the package deal.

But it is possible to have the beauty of the song without the bullshit of the sermon — I’ve certainly appreciated stage musicals for much of my life, and there’s some good stuff out there that fits what I need. It’s just that… I don’t want to dedicate a chunk of my life to rehearsal for performance, and I don’t want to perform at all! I don’t want to sing to anyone, or sing for anyone but myself. I want to be able to enjoy the synergy that comes from voices raised in harmony, to feel the thrill electrify my body as the room swells with a chorus of voices.  I don’t know where to find that.

I want to sing like this, with others, for nothing more than the entertainment and joy it brings:

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Closer to heaven above, and closer to you

It’s really great that the internet can connect people like never before.  How a queer kid in the rural Midwest, for example, can have the World Wide Web in their hands on a mobile device, and find other queer folks online, can chat and discuss and interact.

It’s also really shitty how the internet can only do that much, as far as connecting goes. Sure, you can find people who are like you, and get that validation that you’re not alone, that there are others like you… but this is a very large world for as close as technology brings us.

Lots of people in far-flung places across the globe who I would love to spend some face-to-face time with — or more likely body-to-body time, in many of those cases. But without lots of money and access to other resources on my part or theirs (for any particular “them” involved, and there are dozens) there’s not much beyond longing, and the disconnect of the distant connections.

She’s so good that you won’t see it coming

I wonder if anyone will ever fall for me who isn’t weighed down by major self-esteem issues? That seems to be the kind of woman I attract.

From my “first love” whose control freak tendencies were only outdone by her verbal and then physical abuse, she was so desperate to make everyone around her small and ordinary so that she could seem brilliant by comparison… to the most recent ex who could not hear her praises being sung by so many for what they were, whose consistent expressions of inadequacy could not be balanced out by my efforts alone, nor by those of so many I enlisted to join me in countering them… or the one boyfriend I’ve had, who began publicly posting suicide threats when I attempted to set and maintain boundaries, who spent much of the time we were together telling me what a bad man he was… or the psycho ex who needed so much to matter that she couldn’t simply be herself — she was Connor Quentin McLeod, an Immortal, a Highlander; she nearly broke my jaw and used me to get herself pregnant… the friend who has been so much to me, but who also consistently martyrs herself so that she can “let me be happy,” as if her happiness and mine were mutually exclusive, that mine comes at the cost of her own…

And the ones who don’t get attached, the ones who are friends-with-benefits but never “girlfriend” — Lime, Plush, Again, SoCal, and others — sometimes more “together,” sometimes not, but it doesn’t matter so much when none of them are the ones who share my life. I may be significant — the “friend” part of “FWB” — but not significant in that way.  And I don’t want to be that kind of significant with most of them, and that’s okay — but I do want to find someone who is that kind of significant, and who wants me to be the same.

And I want that to be a woman who knows how fucking bad-ass she is, and for us both to build each other up in our bad-assery instead of collapsing in on each other like a house of cards outside in a thunderstorm.

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