I
N
SIGHT
know to be the source of heat from her, we re
lost....
He laughs, he pulls her to him and he fucks
her, I sit small in the comer, watching, trembl­
ing with touches left unfinished.
Fall 1980
Assignment for a
writing group
Com ing out stories, we decide, that’s what
we ll write about next How safe, how politi­
cally correct — painful probably, but we ll all
understand and sympathize; it’ll bring us
closer. Already I feel different, bitter, not guite
at all of you, though it would be easy to put it
there, to pretend that you’re to blame for my
loneliness. I could tell you about Nicola, we
were nine, teaching other what we knew,
never reaching orgasm, rolling around
together in the hot summer nights; by fall she
denounced me, giggling with her friends,
whispering I was a lezzie, we were scared, I
would have turned on her too, given time. Or
Joanna, my best friend for eight years. We
were lovers in the sense that we had a rela­
tionship, tried to work things out though we
never made love. But the story I want to tell
you is different and although it took me sev­
eral years after this time to name myself, this
night was the turning point Not a pretty story.
... if I tell you, will you understand?
It was a bitter time — a time many of us go
through, we want love and women but we get
fucked by men, liquor and some chemical
tuning our pain to a fine scream that lives
somewhere behind our eyes, waiting, while
we continue to search in the wrong direction.
Another man I barely knew. Going to his
apartment one evening on a date, a little high
and a woman opens the door, doesn't look
like his sister. His fiance he says, and I prepare
to leave, too well trained to feel hurt or be­
trayed, though it must have been there some­
where, maybe behind the eyes. But he says
stay, let's all be friends, and I’ve nothing else
to do that evening and little pride, so we go
out dancing and the booze and music gets
me high — I'm dancing and I’m sexy and 1
* J-J 9F
P0HTLA.MO4»
AüTO
A day in the life
— Dennis Peterson
My life has had four conversion experi­
ences. By the latter I mean a climatic moment
that is the culmination of an emotional or
intellectual storm that has been brawling for
some time. The first three have been brewing
for some time. The first three have been re­
ligious and the fourth was my coming out,
and yet they are all interconnected.
At fifteen I met a girl who was a Baptist and
invited me to her church. My mother had
been raised Catholic but had left it with much
bitterness, and my father was raised Lutheran
and considered himself a Christian but did
not attend church, so I was left to my own
devices as to formulating my God-concept
After several months in the church I had an
extremely cathartic experience, as were all
my conversion experiences to come, where I
became aware of a crushing burden of guilt I
had been carrying with me for some time and
accepted Jesus as my personal saviour. Al­
though I am now an atheist I look back at this
moment as one of great beauty and accept its
validity insofar as it was the first of four steps
to a deeper self-awareness. Although I had
discovered a source that I felt cleansed me of
all past sins, there was still a need to return to
Jesus again and again to remove the most
recent stains exuded by a guilt that explo­
sively vented its pent-up bile from time to
time. I remember tearfully praying almost
every night to be forgiven for I knew not pre­
cisely what.
The next step came in college when I read
Nietzsche, the “God is dead" philosoher. He
wrote that so much that passes for moral
training is only an enslavement. It’s like train-
don’t care — he's taken, she doesn’t look
bad, okay, I’m having fun, it's alright. I flirt with
him a little, he flirts with me, she flirts with
both of us and something turns and eases in
my belly and it’s not just from the drinking.
At two we re all at his apartment again,
giggling, I go to pee, look in the mirror and
they come in, asking me to stay, she reaches
for my hand again, as she’s done before, it’s
okay, I think, it’s only for thrills and, besides...
He watches us then, her hair catching in
my mouth, her neck so soft, so much soft­
ness everywhere, no pain, no rush, a little
drop of sweat mixed with perfume on the
crease of skin at her armpit; the terrifying
curve of her breast twisting my gut, an agony
of desire and tenderness I never felt with a
man. We forget him, watching, we kiss, ex­
ploring, questioningly, not thrusting, lacework
of cool fingers on perfumed skin; breath un­
steady, dipping below the waistline, tracing
the arches of bones, burnt by electricity in the
hair, my hand brushing the tenderness be­
tween her legs. I kneel before her, guessing,
nuzzle apart the wet petals, seeking what I
I
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Jacquelines
SEE VUE MOTEL
POFINL.TI VÉ
ALTER.NAri\/E
ing a lion by whipping and starving it until it is
willing to do your bidding because of its ex­
hausted state. The lion is not any ’’better,”
only more submissive. It’s all very convenient
for the audience, but the lion has actually
been de-moralized. Not all those who are
religious are so broken; some find great joy
and fulfillment in serving their God, but for
me it was only a crutch for a weary soul. I felt
refreshed because as an agnostic my slate
was wiped clean, but I felt an emptiness and
hungered for a new message.
I have had a lifelong fascination with reli­
gions on an intellectual as well as an emo­
tional basis. I poured over the literature with
renewed vigor in search of a new master. I
came across Judaism and felt as if I were
going back to the roots from whence Chris­
tianity sprang and to the original which I had
only known before in distortion. Again let no
one take offense at my honesty which is only
meant to reflect my personal states and not
some universal truth. I lived an Orthodox
lifestyle for ten years, married, and raised
three children. Although many Jews seem to
suffer from acute guilt, I never served
Hashem (God) from a sense of guilt, but from
one of a duty that I had voluntarily and gladly
taken on. The one flaw was that this duty was
taken on in an attempt to obliterate or at best
sublimate my sexuality.
The nuclear family is central in Judaism in
a way that no other religion can hope to
match. The conjugal bed, birth of a child,
training, reverence for parents, and eventual
marriage of the children are inextricably wo­
ven into the fabric of Jewish life. Many of my
childhood friends were homosexually active
and I came to believe that homosexuality was
universal but, like masturbation, a subject
that was not discussed in polite company. I
believed that marraige would save me from
myself and my old urges. A familial religion
seemed perfect
The last (or perhaps only latest?) step has
been coming out My sense of duty and
moral responsibility now springs from my
innermost soul and is not imposed or taken
on as a servitude from without The moral
tasks I have set for myself are increasing
self-awareness, raising consciousness in
others about being gay and against all forms
of prejudice, and helping people who are
physically challenged see their special
strengths. All of these conversion experiences
have been traumatic. In this last step I have
had to forsake a religion that helped me cope
with every conceivable aspect of day-to-day
life, sever a symbiotic relationship with my
former wife, create a new manner of relating
to my children, and abandon a carefully con­
structed philosophy of my union with God. In
the end I believe that I and all the people with
whom I come in contact will profit from the
honesty of my confronting myself.
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Seven miles south of Yachats
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Have a unique experience — build a fire —
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summer vacation Two free nights out of seven.
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