Day 2 – Another Day

On my way from work today, I wondered how I would be able to keep up this word count and make sure this comes out on time each day and come up with different topics. During this train of thought, I ran the numbers that at the end of the first year and would have over 700 pages of data. I had the immediate realization that this would be a very large book and the crashing realization set in that it is a lot of work to have more than a few words to describe little changes. 

I woke up this morning with a throbbing in my head but I was ecstatic! It’s day two and you would think that the euphoria that was pulsating over my flesh would have waned. NO! Today was filled with the energy racing through my veins. 

And…. Here I am falling asleep while tiny Toto sleeps in my lap while we are both reclined on the couch. Rambo lays on the wife and Star Trek: The Next Generation is on the episode about Reg and the alien probe. I guess I will go ahead publish this and finish writing in the morning. Maybe I should recount a story from my memories about Aaron Copland and or a story about how I fell in love with music. Take care for now. 

I was considering changing what I would finish discussing about and I decided that I should continue with about how I fell in love with music. Ironically, I do not remember the first moment I heard music but I do remember the feelings that were elcited from constant rotation of Depeche Mode, Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, other “masculine” musics played in my youth. 

I scare quoted masculine for a reason, society (at least society surrouning a military base) had dictated that metal and other genres of music with driving lines be percieved as music for Manly Men. While I love hair metal and prog rock, I want to focus on what Depehe Mode means and how it led to me finding Bronski Beat and the first moment I had truly connected in song. 

I distinctly remember that it was right after The Backstreet Boys had released their Millenium album. I remember watching a televised concert that they were putting on and pepople coming over to visit with my parents. I remember comments of “What is this shit?” and others like that. It was the comment after that that first closed the door to closet – “Boy bands are for f*gs.”

Let’s unpack that one sentence… What does a bands member composition have to do with sexuality? Absolutely not a damn thing. But, being the late 90’s, this train of thought was prevalent. Why were bands like Depeche Mode, Led Zepplin, and Aerosmith allowed to be comprised of all “male” members but Backstreet Boys was not? Was this a continuation of the “synths are for queers and guitars are for real men” culture? 

I wish I had answers to these questions. Alas, being told that this music wasnt allowed because it wasn’t for me made me seek out other music that “wasn’t for me.” I don’t remember where or how but I came across a tape labeled The Age of Consent – Bronski Beat. This tape provided a clear line of light underneath the door to that proverbial closet. The song Smalltown Boy had struck a chord deep in my sould. The painful cry of “Run Away… Run Away…” reached deep and pulled hard on me as I remember tears streaming down my face listening to such a personal story in the song. Even today, the powerful and commanding lyrics elicit the same emotional response within me that I wonder how the songs meaning will change as I continue to move forward in my transition.