|
|
 |
By
Mitzel
It's taken me some time, but I have finally come to understand that the phrase, when spoken, "Have A Nice Day," is intended in much the same way the Chinese, historically, have intended the phrase, "May You Live
in Interesting Times," which turns out to be a curse, wishing you years of desolation, war, diseases, panic, the usual. It was in the 1970s that "Have A Nice Day" became standard in the US, just heard everywhere, from
on-the-street to the last words spoken at the end of a commercial exchange-- completely inappropriate. I should give up barking about the bad parts of the 70s-- the good parts I liked-- but Have A Nice Day, the jogging mania,
the sudden, virtually overnight, appearance of baseball caps on men everywhere, well, it's enough that I, clearly schizophrenic, had to resist what the schizos do, take up some kind of ammo and go after the beast. Why
bother? The beast had already laid its gazillion eggs.
Have a nice day. The author Carol Queen came round one day as I was at work. I have always admired her work; it was a pleasure to meet her. She's lots of fun; she teaches in Frisco. I had two questions for
her. First: "Is your name really Carol Queen?" I mean, really, what are the odds in favor of that? "My name," she said, "is Carol A. Queen. Susie Bright told me to drop the 'A.'" Queen & Bright. They should start a law firm!
They could specialize in gay/lez intellectual property, so important in the world-wide marketing of "gay." (As I write these words, there are the Gay Games in fabulous Amsterdam. Someone suggested I enter the Wooden
Clog Competition, but I favor sensible pumps, and, alas, there is no Sensible Pumps Competition.) My 2nd question to Ms. Queen was: "Is San Francisco the gay air-head capital of AmeriKa?" Carol paused on that one, had to
mull it over. "No," she told me, "it's Los Angeles." Perhaps that's where the Have A Nice Day mantra started.
Just the other day, two socialist-feminist lesbians dropped by. They were bookstore owners and small-press publishers and they had some books to pitch. One woman was in her 40s, the other in her 20s.
And, you know, it was a great joy to talk with them. These are women with whom I did not have to explain the things that seem to me self-evident-- the massing of state power against minorities, the scandal of maldistribution
of wealth, the shame of housing costs and medical services, the hideous expense of education, and on. We laughed and carried on. We dished all the usual suspects: Andrew Sullivan, G. Rotello, and some others. They, as am
I, were worried about the growing prominence of the assimilationist/conservative voices which have been selected by the publishing houses and the press to "give voice" to the aspirations of gay men and lesbians. I have
been associated with the more critical wing of the gay movement, that which keeps faith with a more radical take on this society, from the matter of sexual identity and sexual performance to the larger issues thereby informed
by this stance. These socialist lesbians were not Have a Nice Day kinda folks; they were great joy. And I am writing about them on this occasion because of what seems to me their rarity. Perhaps the 80s didn't make
everyone into a Pod Person, sucking out all critical abilities and leaving in the human shell the broken record of platitudes and the phrases put out by the police, therapists, and the office-seekers. Have a nice Day. It was a good sign.
Want another? It is Michael Bronski's new book:
The Pleasure Principle: Sex, Backlash, and the Struggle for Gay
Freedom, just out from St. Martin's. Full disclosure: Michael is a co-writer for this fine
journal and a very dear friend of many years. Yes, it looks like log-rolling, but, I'll tell you, if Michael had written a book not up to his gifts, I would let him know; I'm that kinda guy. Happily, Bronski has woven it all together
and brought forth a forceful, and informative meditation on the sociogram of the gay movement and gay culture since the 60s. Not an easy task to perform in 284 pages, but Bronski stakes a compelling claim, and I
highly recommend this book. For those of you too young to have been part of the joy of the 60s, you'll get the full flavor of it here. And the 70s too, the good part of it, the resistance and pleasure. Bronski's book, too, is a happy
gift for all those in my-- our-- situation.
When the troubled times come, and for some they are already here, the Clinton Crash, assuming Bill is still around, the difficulties promised in the ancient Chinese curse, it is my hope that that a renascent
gay activist/radical wing will be there. The Sirens of normalcy and Feel Good and just get along, as experience has demonstrated, just can't come through; they lack the critical ability and have a false understanding of how
society really works. This may be a new spring upon us. Water the flowers-- unless you are among the Pod People who insist I should "Have A Nice Day."
You are not logged in.
No comments yet, but
click here to be the first to comment on this
Common Sense!
|
