J, the doctor's wife, had three little words for me: "orange," "bike," and "paper." "okay," i said, knowing that he intended it as a victory cheer [though he sort of jacked up the adjective-adjective-noun order] and had found the orange paper bike.
E blanched and nearly passed out. in between spells of hyperventilating he asked what sorts of personal information i had been writing about him, about us. i could see his anguish, and this is where, i knew, the proverbial turd hits the fan; i told E not to be so presumptuous, that i don't write about his life, or even our life, i write about my life: there's a big difference.
E asked that from this point forward i not write anything about him in my blog, and perhaps i should censor my thoughts on our friends if they wil read it. i offered instead to quit writing the blog and delete it from the ether that is the internet. i indeed offered this resolution even though i knew it would cause me great pain to do so. i would continue writing, but i would become guy montag in fahrenheit four-fifty-one, secretly harbouring books to write in rather than continuing the virtual existence my thoughts have in the blogoshere. if i couldn't write freely then why write? it wouldn't be me writing at that point, it would be E's idea of me and J's idea of me writing?
E offered that perhaps i just change my identity and site and continue writing. i quickly reminded him that this is not a witness protection program and i had done nothing that warrants such a measure. besides, i am orange paper bike and orange paper bike is me: we are one and the same. [side note: for fun, i did think of taking the name "strawberry lip gloss" even though i have no connection or fondness to strawberry lip gloss. i'm sorry, but i don't!] i digress...
to make a long dramatic story less long and less dramatic, i slept on the sofa that night, E and i didn't speak the next morning, he left for california for a week, and i left for my own place. J, the doctor's wife, called late the next evening and assured me he hadn't read one word beyond the title [and the swish pic in my bio]. he knew it would change our friendship and didn't want that to ever happen. E was happy, and J, the doctor's wife, was happy. so why am i not happy? orange paper bike still rides, i can continue to blog and my words are safe. for now.
i take full responsibility for the whole mess: i never should have mentioned my blog to curious queens, and maybe i have no right to write anything about our friends or about E, but then again that is my life. the fact that i am friends with J, the doctor's wife is my life; the fact that i am hiv-positive is my life; the fact that i am in therapy is my life; the fact that E and i recently opened our relationship is my life. all of this is my life. and dammit, this is my blog. let the "secret-telling" begin!
in the background::take five:dave brubeck quartet
5 comments:
pishah! censorship is so late 90's. The world is an open book. Let it all hang out!
It's your blog, you can cry if you want to. insert 60s bubble-gum-pop music here What's the difference between this and diary? Okay, so this is published on the internet. But, you're not using names so the innocents (and guilties) are protected.
On my own blog, I don't write about work or anything that I feel is too personal, but I make that judgment call. Write what you want!!!!
I say fuck the blog and call a tabloid and show those bitches what one pissed off queen can really do!
"Well, you said the blog wasn't cool, so, I figured I'd start writing magazine articles. Ya know, more street cred. High media."
i friend of mine wears a lipstick shade called "I'm-not-really-a-waitress" ... oh nevermind. write whatever you want. All it takes is 2 drag queens and a drug dealer to find out all of this info anyways.
I told every single friend I have about my blog and the fact that they might be in it some day, although their names would just be an Initial. Everyone was fine. Some even do something silly or stupid and say to me, "Ah, hell this will be all over the internet tomorrow, won't it?"
"Yes" I say, "It will"
My other half once he was told, was excited to think someone was writing about him. He WANTS me to write about him all the time. He loves it. When we went to NYC, he felt as if he was a celebrity when we met other bloggers.
I do on the other hand, don't write about our fights, our problems and issues. Same with friends. Some things are better left private for me and my partner. I write about our relationship in a way that won't hurt either one of us, yet at the same time, let people know that we love each other, yet still get angry or upset with one another and work things out.
Post a Comment