Not · Yet · Dead · and · Apparently · Still · Writing

B LARGH entry 01:

For those of you who don't know already, Hiromitsu Takayama and Doctor Professor Jonathan Crane aka the Scarecrow are where I spend most of my time. They're my hobby and my vacation spot, therapy, comfort and pride. When I'm not here in the present, I'm moving them, like God, through their various trials.

It's a pretty crowded place in the internal landscape of my mind nowadays. It used to be just me and Anubis, who moved out when Treize came along, and now there's a bunch of people living between my ears that come and go as they please but always come back like lodgers in a mood-shifting apartment building. There's Tennant Ashe (Tenna), the small, noble leper prophet who sings with the universe; and Edmond Dantes, quiet, sophisticated, full of advice; the general himself of course and Isaac and Trevor who drop in to visit at least once a month in all their pixilated, domestic bliss. Crowded.
I don't mind. Mostly I don’t live in my brain, I'm off doing business, animating the otherwise frozen worlds that I write about, injecting my own spark of life into their static spaces, turning on the power and seeing where the machine takes me.

My current fetish is for floating around in the DC comics-verse, playing in the vast and ancient sandbox that is Batman. It's hard to find untilled patches of earth here: Gotham city is a fantasy so old and so well-turned by more creative and talented hands than mine that it's no small feat to find something to say about it that hasn't already been said a hundred times. I decided to take my games to a neighboring capital instead, and populated Paradise city with my own egotistical, masked crooks.
But mostly, just my love birds Hiro and Jonathan.

I have been accused, before, of writing only gay fiction and fantasy. For most of my adolescent life I have squealed in protest and denied this. "I don't mean to. I mean, that is, I don't set out to create exclusively gay and bisexual characters. They sort of just end up that way on their own. I can't help it, they're like children."
Big surprise- I'm bisexual and transgender myself. I like men the way men like men and I like women the way masculine women like women. I think. I don't know- every time I try and put down a concrete sentence about what I "like" I regret it an hour afterwards; my sexual preference is much akin to Chinese food.
But I digress- it's the height of Narcissism to write about one's self in such a manner, and while I do spend much of my time staring, dissatisfied, into pools of water, we shall move on.
I didn't actually come here to tell you about my little corner of fandom fame, but rather a response that it elicited.

I am no stranger to the homophobe. Some of my best friends are homophobes. I suppose I don't really blame them for the way they are; I'm fairly disgusted by a lot of what they consider normal too, but I don't bring it up in conversation.

Now, I draw and write my own comics. When I have a piece that I've finished, inked, sometimes colored, I usually post it on some purportedly enlightened and artist-friendly website that allows other people to view and comment on my work. Some of my friends from home and school follow me into this virtual realm to leave their kilobytes as offerings. As I mentioned, some of my best friends are homophobes.

It's really quite valiant of them. They try so hard not to be. They'll deny what they are with examples quite like this one, and then they attack you when you suggest that yet another one of your creations has a same sex love interest.

"ALL of your characters are gay."

Just like that. Like it would somehow leap down THEIR pants. And then more personally, like YOU did this to THEM, specifically to be irritating because you knew they were watching.

My best beloveds, I have succumbed, yea, OFT have I succumbed to the temptation of exhibitionism, but my greater vice by far is self-sufficiency. I can no more cease to create, draw, and write than I can sprout an extraneous appendage. It is what I do. I create to please others sometimes, but always, always do I create for myself. It is my artless art, the one freedom I have from the flywheel of karma and causality, and most importantly it is how I escape from the prison of 'I'.

Why on earth would I waste it on, no offense, any of you? Any single one of you?

I would no more expect each of you, dear readers, to sacrifice the one fire and light of your existence to satisfy my petty quantifications.

I look at the offending frames of still motion, and I see my Hiro and his Jonathan kissing sweetly on a train. For all my gifts of insight I cannot fathom why this moment, this grossly unobtrusive, gentle moment would provoke such growls and yapping.

These two orbit each other in my mind, a constantly reaffirming source of passion and support, the mythical closed system that gains energy without atrophying, Ouroboros; their light fills me as surely as it fills any lover. In the womb of my imagination, we share thoughts, sacred moments of quiet, brief spats of argument and the phoenix blaze of adoration and lust; I am each lover, both at once and individually, their pathos compounds and nourishes me even as I give life to them.

That is not for you, dear readers. You will only ever see the pictures and read the words. This is for –me-. You will not take this from me. You will not press your hot guilt onto me you will not somehow 'cure' me of this divine lunacy you will not break me you will not you will not you will NOT make Medea of me, I will not kill these children nor will I change them.

Any offspring of mine will have a safe place to come home to at the end of the day. I do not care how important you think yourself, nor what our past relationships have been, friends. Do not come between a mother and her babies. I will never force them on you.

If this seems a satisfactory resolution than you are welcome, best beloveds, to share a little of the light from my dreams.

/seething.