Common Sense	Common Sense Archive

On some mornings, particularly if the weather is nice, I will walk from my apartment building to the subway entrepôt. This walk takes me along a sylvan bike path and then into an open field, all quite invigorating for a city boy. One day, as I made this journey, I came to the open field, and, there, on a tree trunk was posted a notice: "LOST CAT." The page was your standard paper size; there was the photocopied image of Fluffy, in very flat black-and-white, and the mini-story-- aged 4, broken tail, is sweet, please return. Seeing these notices-- all too common-- just breaks my heart. Tears at the hearth for the Fluffy family. I have been there, so I know.

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In such a moment, in reflecting on the occasion of a Lost Cat, I come to a picture of my town from years back. Old photos of places well known are captivating. Many Lost Cats there. I got to my new hometown on 09 Dec. 1965, and I recall a guy who worked as an organ grinder. He had a pet monkey on a string, and he and the monkey would do their stuff on the street corner in front of Boston's historic Arlington Street Church. The great gay poet John Wieners has written a poem that features this organ grinder and the monkey. The two of them must have been there for a considerable time-- and then gone. Lost Cat.

There are other Lost Cats. I go back to the 50s. I know: Hold Your Nose. But, also, be surprised. We come to the issue, in gay life, of "latency." For many, this is a re-visit from long ago. For some, perhaps a whole new concept. How should we place the dialogue about "latency" in the homosexual discourse for these times? Well, it ain't easy.

"Latency" was the idea that came out of the American interpretation of Freud's view that homosexual desire was present in all god's folks. For some who suddenly became "gay," the latency thing explained it, sort of. I will now quote Norman Mailer. Many of my readers will think quoting Norman Mailer in a pro-gay-sex mag an inappropriate use of space; I understand. Back in the 50s, Norman wrote, and this could have been in ONE Magazine-- the voice of the homophile, the following sentence: "Any man who successfully suppresses his homosexuality should not be called A Homosexual." Mailer's observation accepts the idea that any man-- every man-- accepts the vision of Walt Whitman, the possibility of the true comradeship of the friends, sex too.

Times have changed since the days of the hegemony of "latency." We have now got the gene folks, the wired contingent, the everything-is-settled crowd, when, of course, with sexuality, nothing is ever really settled, and people and their behaviors will always shock. Add to that, the cultural ascendancy at this time of religion and conservative values-- so-called-- and I know much more needs to be learned.

In this time-- today-- when sexual identities need to be opted for, even amongst the young, I'm afraid we see the simple-minded AmeriKan trope to instant classification. Why must schoolchildren have a sexual identity? Having the choice of Gay or Straight only empowers the straight, conservative majority and makes the lives of these deemed or opting Gay harsher. Keeping "latency" in play drops a box-full of marbles in the room; everyone is kept a bit off balance. You must gather your weapons where you may.

The late John Preston writes, in one essay, in his last, and posthumous book, about an incident in Maine. At one high school, near Ogunquit, the yearbook asked the senior boys what they most didn't want to become. All said: Faggots. It became an incident-- Free Speech versus Insensitivity. Preston notes that the area lives on gay tourism, and the income received by the families of many of these teen boys comes from The Gay Traveler. It made me think of a similar incident at Provincetown (Cape Cod) some seasons back. A right-wing faction in that gay resort mecca was making anti-gay gestures and noises. One such was a fellow, a religious, who owned the airline that flew from Boston to P-Town. His wife, another religious, was upset at the gay presence. One day, Ms. Religious went into a popular eatery and asked her friend who owned the joint: "Madge, when are you gonna stop feeding these faggots?" Madge looked at Ms. Religious and said: "As soon as your husband stops flying them in."

The idea of and the fact of gay identity is a signal event. In the 70s, when the conservatives were still in shock from the 60s, there was room to grow. Since the RayGun reaction, things have got worse. The success of the gay liberation forces has engendered such a right-wing fury-- well, I can't understand it except in the sense that normalcy, itself, is completely psychopathological, which, as I age, I think true. I ponder on the mind of Norman Mailer. I think of the minds, so-called, of the alleged killers of Matthew Shepard.

Lost is not better. Brecht said that looking back is not good, things from the past were worse than now. He may be right. I have an inclination for the latency pitch, and I think I could use it well in some sort of dialogue, much like this column.

And this morning? I walked to the subway station. It's late fall. The leaves are gone. In the field, posted on one tree, was this: Found Cat, gray and white, handsome, has a collar, willing to keep cat but want to find owner. Meow. But keep the scratch. And the claws.

Author Profile:  Mitzel
	Mitzel was a founding member of the Fag Rag collective, and has been a Guide columnist since 1986. He manages Calamus Books near Boston's South Station.
	Email:	mitzel@calamusbooks.com
	Website:	calamusbooks.com