Different Like Me?

When young, my house burned down.  It burned itself right to the ground.  No photographs.  No trophies.  Not fish names, Zeak and Zach.  No clothing.  No piece or scrap of a life…that I had come to know.

Being 15 years old.  Much of the usual had been going on, before the loss.  Puberty, confusion, work, confusion, education, confusion, church…and, much more confusion.

To top trauma off?  I began to believe that being gay…was a sin, pitiful and certainly, not something you brag about.  To voice my concern to an abusive father an emotional absent mother…would have been like calling an angry lion out of its den.

Though I do not remember much of that period of time.   I found comfort living at the home of my best friend, Red.  With an agreement between Red’s mother and my parents, the ‘stay’ would not be forever…And, so, a new and hippie improved home, was found on Maple Street.

Launched between Red and I?  The secret life of gay’s in the 80’s, in a semi rural New Hampshire city.  Without words, Red and I, knew we were different.

How fun was that time?  Piper, Red’s mother, was from New York city.  She was divorced with 5 children to raise.  She introduced me to True cigarettes, Amaretto, Joan Baez and watching television from the bed.

So different were those 6 or so months.  I hated to leave and head home to anger and violence that appeared  from nowhere.

What astounds me now?

Leaving New Hampshire, as a young adult, I encountered a vast array of people, places and things.  Most of which, I would never have had the courage to gather in my memories…had it not been for Maple street.

91 percent of New Hampshire is white.  Living in Madison County, North Carolina, at the ripe age of 23 and rainbow proud…there had been only one group akin to the suffering gays were encountering, with Jesse Helms and his prejudice cohorts!  With every pride march and every volunteer group I joined; African-American Pride had been right there to offer a hand in guidance.  After all, they had decades, centuries of experience.

Full circle, I have forged my way back home to the same abusive father and the same, emotionally distant mother.  I have also been able to re-acquaint myself with those I went to school with.

I am furnishing a post from my Facebook page.  It’s topic surrounds the handing of the torch from Obama to Trump.  I am liberal.  What else would I be?

I have few friends.  It is best that way.  I keep my circle close, and offer what love I can.  Those I went to school with, those I wandered the streets of Concord, New Hampshire…with, have not changed.

They long for football days.  They post recipes and abhor politics or…upsetting the apple cart.

I will say first off:

Shame on me.  When the heat turned up over Obama and Trump…abortion, racism and gay rights came into play?  I will say, my first assumption had been, here we go, another cracker carrying a gun talking about my uterus and sexuality.  First and foremost,  I apologize for that generalization.  It is my perception of a group of persons who have aged…yet, live for the next party and next playoff game.

If I were honest, there had never been any comfort in my teens, unless I had been on Maple street with a select few others who were…different like me.

I have posted the conversation with persons I have known for about forty years.

I will say, when the statement,

…babykiller and by angery lesbian who couldn’t get a man.!

Came up…

I felt like the marches I had encountered down south.  When I had been advocating change not only for AIDS, LGBT and African Americans…reappeared again, almost 30 years later.  As though, with what few steps forward my minority, other minorities and many in between the cracks, took forward…we were taking several steps back…

So upsetting to me is the idea that persons I have known; as children, were stating things like…

So tired of the posts about politics.

Trump won.  Get the fuck over it!


better yet,

they post pictures…

of football games and proms from years gone by!

In someone’s estimation.  Someone I cannot even remember growing up with, I was not always gay.  And, I was indeed, just another angry lesbian!

Dear Old Friend,

I have always been gay.  Yet, I feared coming out of the closet until I could get out on my own.  Am I angry?  Fuck yes!  Angry that my politics have upset you so!

John Boy: Nice try!!!! Conservatives didn’t riot or burn other people’s property.
Ruth M Bowley
Ruth M Bowley No! They are just wanting to take my right to marry away! They are just attempting to make sure millions of Americans remain ill. And, more importantly, they would like to go back to an era…before, Martin Luther King!
John Boy That’s not true . He’s only been in office for two days and you are already criticizing the job he has done.
Heath Hetero: He took away the fine for not having ins so he’s already took nobamas hands out of our pockets!
Heath Hetero: Two days in and the new president has done more for America than nobama ever did other countries now want to talk to our New President!
John Boy: The ACA is one of the most complicated bill ever past. Congress voted it in without even reading the whole thing. It has fingers in all sorts of crap that most of us don’t have a clue about. It will not be fixed overnight.
Ruth M Bowley
Ruth M Bowley That is why I am wondering how Heath got a hold of him. Usually, he is not ‘out of the closet’ with his ideas.
John Boy: How do you come up with he’s trying to take your right to marry or your medical and bring us back to the 60s???????? Where did you get this info Ruth Ruth M Bowley??????
Ruth M Bowley
Ruth M Bowley I didn’t answer you yesterday, John. Because there is no reasoning to a white male, who feels he isn’t being heard, who voted for Trump and wants his guns! In other words, John there is no reasoning to a group of America’s population who have not had the struggles that many have.
Heath Hetero: That’s funny because in DC pro life women weren’t welcome in their March! Some equality!!!
Ruth M Bowley

Ruth M Bowley Citizens with pre-existing medical conditions may be concerned about what will happen to them if Obamacare is repealed. And 20 million Americans who have healthcare insurance for the first time may wonder how they will fare under Trumpcare.

John Boy:  Jeeze Ruth didn’t know you knew me better than me . guess I will have to go buy a gun seeing I don’t own one. And I guess I will have to go out and get all the money I have. ( I’m far from rich) and as for being white well I’m sorry I didn’t have a choice about that. And I don’t have any pride in that because how can someone be proud of something that I had no choice in. But that’s fine just believe what you want.
Ruth M Bowley

Ruth M Bowley Odd because I could have sworn I saw a few people from your circle of friends…

Image may contain: 1 person, standing and outdoor
John Boy:  What are you talking about????
Heath Hetero: John I’ve got guns for both of us.Lol oh yeah our founding fathers made sure that I could if you have a problem with that tough shit! As far as preexisting conditions the republicans have said over and over that’s not what they want to get rid of, and 
John Boy:  What did you think you would get with Clinton in office????
John Boy: In my eyes abortion takes the right to live from the child.
JessicaFascinating. This whole conversation is fascinating. Let me make this perfectly clear to all the men on this chat. My uterus is my business. What I choose to do or not to do with it is certainly not your business. No one has a right to tell me what to 
John Boy:  You always had a choice. Don’t get pregnant with your uterus!!!!! Murder is not a right.
John Boy: Your argument does not hold water.
Jessica:  Really? Don’t tell me what to do with my uterus. And by the way. Tell all your kind raping man friends to keep their dicks in their pants. Majority of abortions are to undo a rape.
John Boy: That’s a whole different subject and you know it. A little responsibility can save a life!
Ruth M Bowley
Ruth M Bowley God fearing white man…speaks!
John Boy:  Selfish baby killer speaks.
John Boy:  Bigot
Heath Hetero:  They marched for abortion and for free contraceptives ! Well if they used contraceptives they wouldn’t be pregnant, I have go buy condoms, buy your own pills, and grow up.
Ruth M Bowley
John Boy: Don’t put up the whole post you coward ???
Ruth M Bowley
Ruth M Bowley Yup. I already got your okay.
John Boy: Is your father white any family members white males???? Bigot
Ruth M Bowley In actuality, since this is a public arena, I do not need your permission.
John Boy: She doesn’t even realize that Trump has done alot for gays and supports them . But when your ignorant your ignorant.

John Boy: Your the one who just popped in but that fine I’ve had enough of asshats and pussycaps.

By babykiller and by angery lesbian who couldn’t get a man.
I don’t have a problem with Gay’s never had. But you are what you are angry and you weren’t always a lesbian. I tried to have a civilized conversation but your to much of a bigot. Repost that! Bet you won’t
In 1973, when homosexuality was removed from DSM-II, there was a great deal of controversy about that decision in the psychiatric community. Many psychiatrists and psychologists still believed that homosexuality was a psychopathology which must invariably cause impairment and distress. Others recognized that the impairment and distress often seen by clinicians were a byproduct of stigma and social repression of homosexuals. This group argued that the pathologization of homosexuality in the DSM was a form of social control that itself contributed to the social stigma and to the harm it did. See DSM-II_Homosexuality_Revision.pdf
Black Like Me…John Howard Griffin

“Nothing can describe the withering horror of this. You feel lost, sick at heart before such unmasked hatred, not so much because it threatens you as because it shows humans in such an inhuman light. You see a kind of insanity, something so obscene the very obscenity of it (rather than its threat) terrifies you. It was so new I could not take my eyes from the man’s face. I felt like saying: “What in God’s name are you doing to yourself?”

What is ‘Black Like Me’?

Black Like Me, first published in 1961, is a nonfiction book by white journalist John Howard Griffin recounting his journey in the Deep South of the United States, at a time when African-Americans lived under apartheid-like conditions. Griffin was a native of Dallas, Texas, who had his skin temporarily darkened to pass as a black man. He traveled for six weeks throughout the racially segregated states of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia to explore life from the other side of the color line. Sepia Magazine financed the project in exchange for the right to print the account first as a series of articles.


You, Beautiful Boy…John Lennon.

john 1


Had it been a colder winter, would Vicki been more aware of the day, the time…the shift of wind, to the subtle change of the earth’s emotions?  A typical day, no matter the season had been a hippie rainbow, splashed with a tie dye of skeleton, neon green and pink…

Typical?  No, no, fuckin’ way!  The day played out in the 13 year old’s, tainted by peace and love, screw the establishment…, mind.  This time though, it had been  recorded in tears.  Similar to looking at that larger than life, black-light, poster of Elvis, in a pantsuit…one toke shy of a good high!elvis

Sitting, lotus style on the shag carpeting of Lynn’s bedroom, attempting to really understand the true meaning of…


Terry Jack’s; Seasons in the Sun


A wonderful song about dying, the rebirth of spring and the friends we leave behind.

At the time, as two rebel freaks adverse to conformity…Vicki and Lynne only thought of the song as a sad good-bye to their childhood.  As it was certain, once High School began, the end poetically and physically, would be near.

Yet, none of that silly lonely life felt by many of similar breed and congruent thought mattered…For down below, in the bowels of the ancient home, sat, Lynne’s brother, Eddie.

Eddie, posted upon a stool made of stolen milk crates, smiled a mad-dog grin…as he and his buddies, banged out

Stairway to Heaven!

It hadn’t been that the band played poorly.  It wasn’t that the four mop-heads didn’t somehow resemble Muppet Puppets.   The simple fact had been, those fools just were not cool!  Anyway you cut it!  Those white boys had no rhythm and certainly, no style!

Vicki and Lynn cranked that hot pink record player.  So often had the needle been manually brought back to go that…well…one verse repeated itself over and over and over again.

Please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family

No matter the loudness of the house.  No matter a child’s play at bettering the current situation.  No matter, the pleas, the tears and the questions…the ‘just give me some truth,’ could not be tucked away.

John Lennon, the prince of peace, the maker of all love, the heart and soul of a collective few living in a small New Hampshire city, tucked away in the middle class, had been killed the night before.

It had been a Monday night, 10:50 p.m., 1980!

John 2

The next day, with songs cranked, with outrage pouring out of every Yukon Jack bottle, with Vicki and Lynne attempting to drown their fears in the therapy of music…with all this…a handful of mourners headed for the capital.  One of these walking tributes to all that John Lennon could Imagine, had been Lynne’s mother.  Decked out with beaded vest, bell bottom Tough Skins…faded just right, and a pair of knee high, ‘knock me down and show me a good time’ black leather boots: Lynne’s mother made Stevie Nicks look like a girl scout in training.

And, it was on this day, Tuesday, December 9th, 1980…between the blue grass music being tortured by an all bad male band, and, the young ladies quietly paying respect through lyrics…Lynne’s mother lay entombed in her bedroom to distraught to go to work.

Odd, years later, Vicki would visit the Orpheum theater in Boston to see,  the Plastic Ono band.  She would be high on technicolor and acid!  She would not remember much of that night.  She would remember, Yoko’s acknowledgement of her long lost husband.  And, she would remember that day…a handful of years back…

That day, when within her little world of Peace, Love and Happiness, she learned of  new emotions.  Terror and pure hate!  To the current day, Vicki could not bring herself to read, ‘Catcher in the Rye’, she could not capitalize on anything relating to John’s death.  No new and recently found works of Lennons‘…posthumously!

Fading to black in the very back row of the Orpheum theater, weirdness abound, with necklaces made of Barbie Doll parts, Hippies zoned out on weed, the sweet smell corroding the walls…a simple verse is all that Vicki could recall…

Goodbye to you
My trusted friend

We’ve known each other since we were nine or ten
Together we’ve climbed hills and trees

john 3

Me and You, My dog and Your cat!

Licking has been known to improve…motor function!’

a smile on a dog/
a smile on a dog/

So, what gives?  ‘You say, tomato…I say, toma-toe…let’s call the whole thing off!’

My spouse and 73.6% of all partnered white lesbian households where there is one Capricorn and one Pisces, neither having similar hair color or synchronicity in musically taste: Show that cat and dog households can co-mingle.

Yes, cats have more neuro transmitters per snobby capita.  However, dogs are larger in size and therefore, most likely just spreading their intelligence too thin.

Indeed cats seem to know that grooming is not just a last-minute ditch to be invited to sleep in the big bed.  Cats just seem to know that bathing is not something you do in a sinkhole.

Known fact?

Help I've mixed my personality disorder with OCD...I named her, CAT!
Help I’ve mixed my personality disorder with OCD…I named her, CAT!

All licensed and hoped to be licensed lesbian, transgender, bi-sexual, homosexual and heterosexual couples are aware that you cannot co-exist as a dog meet dog and/or cat meet cat household.  Most enter into their perspectives relationships in the following manner:

‘Barley is my cat…I’ve had him since I was two years old…he is now 35 and I won’t give him up.  He doesn’t bark, shit himself, eat his own vomit or request my presence while he cleans his pecker.’

‘No, you don’t understand, Mattie saved me when I almost fell into the fire pit while drinking Tequila and hunting crows…she ran over and threw herself down on top of me and smothered me with love.  She was there when Ellen came out and barked with joy when Rosie went off the air.’

For Fact Sake:

Let’s examine the evidence

Cats have a sense of superiority akin to the cheerleader you hated in High School.  They are aloof and generally travel to the beat of a psychotic introvert drummer.  Felines no matter how you cut it, they are just pretending to be obtuse to who is smarter, better and/or above reproach…for that kind of behavior is below them.

Dogs on the other hand

Cats & Dogs (Evidence album)
Cats & Dogs (Evidence album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

have a superior sense of smell and sniff other dog’s asses in order to understand them better.

Something we humans could learn from!

I’m not aware of too many things I know what I know, if you know what I mean, d-doo yeah

What I Am

  1. Marriage is a bond between two persons.  A bond that allows for growth, conditional and unconditional love.  Marriage is learning to pick your battles.  Marriage is my dog will have to live in the same household as your  overly fed, narcissistic, anti-social, CAT!

Therefore, the ‘real’ facts between unionizing cats and dogs and marriage:

  1. Allow for your spouse to have a cat that will live in the basement…for eternity!  This cat has never aged, never set a paw on the first floor, does not accept your presence and is currently plotting your dogs demise!
  2. Believe your wife when she states the following:

‘I honestly think that my cat sees dead people!  She stares at the wall for infinite periods of time.  And, she will occasionally, raise a paw to a shadow…as if she were greeting someone!’

**Also believe, there is now psychotropic medication for neurotic cats!

  1. Do not argue with your partner…ever, ever, ever, about the fact that cats do not seem to know the notion of fun.  Do not come home from a long enlightened walk in the woods with the dogs and say:

‘Honey, you should have seen them playing tag with the Gopher!  Throwing it up in the air.  Playing catch with it!  Maiming it!’

Your long-term best friend with benefits, will look at your with disgust in her eyes and dread in her voice.  She will tell you what a heathen you and your dogs are.  She will also tell you…her cats play better, have more fun and enjoy life…far better than any canine.  She will than bring up the story of how Prince, the pedigree pompous ass Persian, learned to use the toilet!

Feline fur-lined estrogen
Feline fur-lined estrogen

Daydreams in a Small Town

mother and her nature
mother and her nature

Franklin New Hampshire?!!!! Well, that is my small town! It is commonly referred to in my house of horror as, the ugly cousin no one dare talk about it. It is down trodden, back of the woods and displaced with disposable persons who can’t seem to catch a break.
That being said…Franklin is also amongst my top places to visit, lay my weary head to rest and make small but semi important talk with the locals.
Formally a factory town this central of the middle of Where the Fuck Are We New Hampshire, burg, comes complete with meth labs, hookers in flannel and an Elk’s club, a Moose Club and a VFW all within walking distance of each other and the local high school.
Strangers to this strange town often find themselves confused and no confusion isn’t implanted in our water supply, with the slight and mostly undetectable difference between night and day. In other words, if the High School is being let out…one might think that the bars were closing down…that is untrue. Those ‘ridden hard and hung up wet’ souls without soles on the bottom of their feet are in actuality our future generation.
I happen to be born in a small town…it is considered the elitist of the political wanna be cities…often referred to as, the capital of our fair and environmentally friendly state, Concord New Hampshire.
I no longer like Concord. I know longer like Portsmouth. I know longer like New London or Hanover, NH. They are off my Christmas list. That is if I believed in giving into a holiday that promotes the reckless use and abuse of spending money we don’t have.
My new favorite, Franklin, has all I could hope for. I have a mechanic that works out of his garage and offers free tows if I buy him a pack of cigarettes. I have another friend who has taken the time to show me how to load and shoot a rifle. And, for the most part, I am a complete minority amongst these disposable persons for I am gay. The most attractive facial feature to this sloppy seconds town? They could care less what I do, who I am and where I come from. We are all the same bozo’s riding the same bus. These is something to be said for a working class town…it works and it has class.

organically original
organically original

Well I was born in a small town
And I live in a small town
Prob’ly die in a small town
Oh, those small communities

All my friends are so small town
My parents live in the same small town
My job is so small town
Provides little opportunity

Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of Jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic that’s me

But I’ve seen it all in a small town
Had myself a ball in a small town
Married an L.A. doll and brought her to this small town
Now she’s small town just like me

No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the people who love me
Yeah, I can be myself here in this small town
And people let me be just what I want to be

Got nothing against a big town
Still hayseed enough to say
Look who’s in the big town
But my bed is in a small town
Oh, and that’s good enough for me

Well I was born in a small town
And I can breathe in a small town
Gonna die in this small town
And that’s prob’ly where they’ll bury me 


the best dressed Scouts of America

Ronnie was a scout and he played with apes.
Ronnie was a scout and he played with apes.

Thank goodness our Boy Scouts no longer need to hide in the pop tent. And, of course, with that not really earth shattering decision came ‘gay scout leaders will be strung up by the nearest Lean-To Pole’ so if you dance in a different direction…do not apply! Put differently you can be a gay follower but not a gay leader…can of a strange way of putting the cart before the horse.

Last week, the executive board of Boy Scouts of America voted to allow openly gay kids into their programs, thus compromising their long standing set of Christian morals and values. When I heard about their vote, it saddened me to see them succumb to the pressures of a debauched society.


I cannot resist finding a few delightful and insightful thoughts from this odd group of morally correct on Sunday morning but don’t look in the back seat of my pick up truck Saturday night, Christians.

One down trodden and trigger happy reader states:

Game Plan:
Kill the BSA
Kill The Churches That No Longer Sponsor Scout Troops

This particular thesis again, as with many large eventful events in the past have, believes that WE are the root of all evil and plan to take over the world. One bizarre and strange troop at a time.

I think the idea behind the gay assault was to destroy the Boy Scouts, and the plan seems to have worked.

Last I heard the Boston Bombings had been somehow tied into homosexuals and their off the cuff ways. As well as, the Newtown shootings being brought about by a society conforming to ‘homosexuals’ and their immoral ways.

Quick story and the rant will be over.
Whilst in a parochial High School, albeit small in size, there had been a handful of guidance counselors on hand for the wayward and free thinking dreadfully decadent teens of catholic parents. Though I had not witnessed or had the pleasure of meeting Father Mitch one on one in his little cubicle with Jesus hanging down between us. The rumors about that little room off to the side with only one way in and one way out; spread like sins at confession time.
‘Don’t wear a button down when you see Father Mitch.’
‘No matter what he says, if he asks you to sit beside him as you go over your course schedule…always remain facing him.’
‘Father Mitch likes to pat you on your knee to make you feel better…and nothing about it makes you feel any better…you just feel dirty.’
Father Mitch and his travels through Do as I say, Not as I Do, was not only well known to all the girls but very well liked amongst the congregation. Father Mitch never lost his standing, his post or his title…though we all, from the school board to the janitors, knew of his evil intentions.
Point of the matter, over 95% of all sexually related criminal acts are perpetrated by white straight as an arrow, Momma’s Boys.
I think the best solution…let everyone be gay. Add one badge for best dressed and one badge for best mannered…for any homosexual male I’ve ever met would and could put the rest of us to shame in the garment department.
It’s all a bit odd…straight men sitting around a church basement with young boys that may not be their own children. Hanging out in tents in the woods, talking secrets and survival. Shit, if a gay scout wants to succumb to that kind of madness let him.


canteen boy
When you’re strange
Faces come out of the rain

People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down

When you’re strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you’re strange
No one remembers your name
When you’re strange
When you’re strange
When you’re strange

People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down

When you’re strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you’re strange
No one remembers your name
When you’re strange
-the Doors