'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,
'Ff'lo
fflo

What about the children?

Well, their souls dwell in a place of tomorrow, which we cannot visit, not even in our dreams, and maybe it won't be like our nightmares.

In the meantime, the more usual meaning of the question---to refer to decrying something's influence on children as a way to, say, shut down our fellow humans---has arisen today.  We've just agreed to prohibit the tossing of actual condoms in our chorus show when we sing about the tossing of condoms, which was itself objected to before.  In the end, because I am old and tired and have had to tape my knees like singing with the chorus is an athletic event, I wasn't too hesitant to advocate the proposed compromise that people only mime the tossing of condoms, but only because that way we don't have to clean them up later.  This is a terrible kind of ennui, not wanting to do anything cuz you'll just have to clean up later.  But it's that kind of day, this January 20th.  A rainy day everywere.  A day that has made me find this name for my feelings:  somber.  I feel somber.

Along with the rest of it, I am sad to sit with how we ---yes, even lesbians, tied as we were (again) to men's (and thus everyone's) sexuality during the AIDS crisis--- I am sad to sit with how we used to think of condoms as a lifesaver, and as a tool to help people enjoy their bodies and their sexuality more safely.  Now here we are thinking of them as something that might offend someone, or make imaginary parents feel uncomfortable when the children they've brought to the queer chorus concert inevitably ask "What are these things they're throwing, and how specifically are they used?"  Condoms are something we should hide.  Something a "proper" group would never bring into the open.  What the almighty fuck.

I looked at a little of the scary pageantry today.  I've stopped, for now.  Turner Classic Movies has that horrid Ann Rynd movie on.  At this point I just hope my pants dry sufficiently before the show.  That's my biggest hope at the moment.  And my vow?  I vow not to forget again that I have fresh goat cheese in the refrigerator that'll make me hate myself later when I realize I made a sandwich with some other cheese that wasn't bad but wasn't as good as goat cheese would've been in that sandwich.
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