Laid Bare: Essays and Observations Judson, Tom (books successful people read .TXT) š
Book online Ā«Laid Bare: Essays and Observations Judson, Tom (books successful people read .TXT) šĀ». Author Judson, Tom
I suppose the process of coming to terms with oneās sexual orientation varies with the individual and sometimes can stretch over years. I personally had a āEureka!ā moment when I discovered I was able to fold a fitted sheet into a perfect square. That canāt be learned.
He goes on to say that gay marriage is ānot wrongā and that heās not ashamed of his work in videos. Pretty progressive thinking for a born-again type, all in all. While I myself am a staunch atheist and believe that organized religion is the root cause of most of the horrors the world has known, I fully support Mr. Penelopepitstopās quest for personal fulfillment and understanding. I might differ with his (newly) negative views on gay porn but Iām going to cut him a little extra slack. And the fact that his nipples drive me insane has nothing to do with it and I resent the implication.
But this does raise a broader question: why does a āredeemedā soul, after a life of sex/drugs/crime or crime/drugs/sex or crime/crime/ drugs/politics or drugs/politics/sex/drugs/crime, always wind up at the feet of Jesus Christ? Why do J.C. and his Dad always get to be the Last Exit Before Toll on the Highway to Eternal Damnation? Born-agains praise the Lord for giving them a new chance at life; He is always given credit for the good things in the world while mankind seems content to take the blame for the bad. Thereās an old show business saying, āIf you believe the good reviews you also have to believe the bad reviews.ā While youāre on your knees thanking God for clearing up that annoying rash remind him he kind of fucked up big-time with Hurricane Katrina.
No, Iād think twice before handing myself over to the aleatory whims of the Big Christian God.
Which begs the question, how come nobody--Sammy Davis, Jr. asideāconverts to Judaism as the cleanser for a dissipated life? And why is religionāany religionāthe default concept to āfindā when pursuing redemption? Why not āfindā something like--oh, I donāt knowāsomething likeā¦ fudge. A pound-and-a-half of chocolate fudge with walnuts would set me on the straight and narrow for sure. Or how about praying to a Technics Dual Cassette Deck with Auto-Reverse? A gadget like that, with its ability to play forever without stopping, offers the acolyte a clear and true vision of infinity. But if it must be a personage, why not somebody like, say, Rickie Lee Jones? Now, thereās a deity that would keep you on your toes. You could never be sure if she would offer you blessed salvation or try to steal twenty bucks from your wallet. Youād be so busy watching your back you wouldnāt have time to indulge in any vices.
Iām just not buying this Born Again business as an antidote to profligacy and corruption. I believe there are some things that are simply innate that even the Gospels canāt dispel. Years ago a good friend of mine who was an ex-everything addict (and a really big queen) started behaving mysteriously and eventually came out of the closet as a Mormon/heterosexual convert. As we left the restaurant after our farewell lunch before shedding his old life completely I asked about the crazy lady who lived next door. āI feel like Iām Olivia DeHavilland in āThe Snake Pit,āā he complained. āGirl,ā I said, draping a friendly arm on his shoulder, āthereās not a straight man in the history of the world who has ever referenced āThe Snake Pit.āā
Like Mr. Papardelle, I have recently left the world of gay porn to pursue other interests. Unlike him I still hold the industry and the people in high regard. Iām not joining the clergy; Iām going back to the theater. But itās funny, just like David Papaleo (the former Tom Katt,) Tom Judson (the former Gus Mattox) will be appearing before the multitudes, donning representative garb and declaiming from a sacred text.
Can my own church be far behind?
THE LONGEST MILE
The parking lot behind the theater in Provincetown is never quiet; the exhaust fan from the cafĆ© runs 24/7 and thereās always either a vehicle or a bicycle entering or leaving.
But the image that has really tickled me over the summer is brought on by the surface of the lot itself; a medium-size gravel. Itās not my beloved Item 4, which eventually compacts into a solid mass. Itās a loose, gray stone roughly the size of Kraft Caramels. It shifts here and there based on the 3-, 4-, 5- and 6-point turns that vehicles must make to facilitate driving forward through the narrow alley rather than having to back precariously into the very busy street.
Sometimes, if Iām not really paying attention, Iām fooled into thinking thereās a light rain falling outside when the gravel is trod upon.
But beginning in the late-afternoonāevery dayāwhen I can often be found reading on my porch, I get to witness a lovely and unique procession: The Art House Drag Queens. Many of the acts booked here at The Art House are, in fact, drag acts. For that matter, a good percentage of the shows all over town feature male performers in fabulous female garb. Clearly, itās one of the things visitors expect when they come to this last town on the Cape.
Since all of us performers have to promote our shows by handing out fliers on the street (ābarkingā is what we call it) the drag acts have to spend countless extra hours in makeup and costume. God bless āem,
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