No wire hangers......

Having attended a film festival with the beau tonight (forgot to mention a gay film festival but who is hung up on details) led me to think about our tiny island and sexuality. There are very few places on the planet where a gay/lesbian chooses or more commonly are forced to run away to be able to live there life as they fully want to without much of the discrimination found in the so called heartland of America, which you have to wonder that if a majority of the citizens of a country's' so-called "heartland" are the same individuals that possess so much hatred, angry and ignorance toward someone that only wants to follow their heart, what does that say about that country? Getting back on track, being in attendance of this film festival with a room filled with fellow gay and lesbians, I couldn't help but to feel that to some extent we all left the cozy closet of the heartland for the gritty yet still ever confiding closet of New York.

There are very few places on the planet where one can live their life how they choose and when they chose than in New York City.

You live your life as a drag queen? Are you free for Canasta Mondays?
A sadist masochist lesbian with a thing for Asians? Hey neighbor, can I borrow a cup of sugar?

New York, to clarify, Manhattan proper, affords you the opportunity to be all these things and more (hoping to never find out what that more is) but at what cost? You leave this tiny island and poof you are back in that closet for fear of your safety, even if you venture out of your accepting neighborhood, to some extent you are back in that closet due to lack of acceptance in that part of the city...don't believe me, try holding hands with your boyfriend in the east 80s and tell me it's the same nonchalance as being in the west 20s. Also to some extent those that claim to have left the closet find themselves trapped in another type of closet filled with items purchased on impulse such as meaningless sex, fickle friends, and a deep sense of vain just to name a few. Others find solace in sharing their closet with someone special and together build a home out of the two spaces.

By no means am I saying I prefer one form of the closet over the other, I have chose the later of the two but hopefully there will be a day when none of that matters and the closet I live in here will be the same closet I am in no matter where my travels take me, but for now I need to brush up on my canasta abilities.