October 12, 2014

Slow, gentle rain in the dark. I think of my laburnum deciding whether to put down winter root, and I bless it.

One of the first things I do upon waking is to straighten the rugs that the cats have set awry with their gambols in the night. That activity was poignant this morning, for Derin Togar once offered me pads for them all, which would have stopped the cats in their tracks, and it was Derin’s wedding I sang for last evening, a stately, clockwork event, distinguished by good looking Turks in tuxedos and black gowns.

The community is joyful with the news that gay couples can now wed legally in North Carolina. The issuer-of-deeds has been alacritous in his duties, and many have come away satisfied. I think this should have been worth doing if only for the joy it brings to people, a joy unnecessarily withheld time out of mind. I’ve never understood why somebody cared if somebody else got married or not, yet on the streets at certain times with their placards are grim-faced people who care about it very much. If you ask them, they will say it’s against the bible. That answer is wrong and perverse, but the battle cannot be fought, for they have written themselves their own bible which has authority over the real one. I have to admit that in my young days as a gay man, marriage per se did not enter my mind. It seemed to me one of those thing that loving a man separated you from, gladly and memorably. But many people are more domestic than I, and when money and legal rights come into the question, it is resolved on the spot. Joy all around, except for those who un-Christian convictions have separated themselves from joy.

Domestic hum of the washing machine. Cat on the foot. Rain on the roof. Maybe I should try to find someone to marry me.