Mindless Ranting!

The appropriation of symbols has long been a bone of contention with me. I am not against symbolism per se but when I was growing up if you were happy you could be gay and gaiety did not equal homosexuality. I'm not sure if the original meanings of the word even exist in a dictionary today. Which brings me to my other bone of contention - homophobia. Due to the sudden outpouring of love for all things GLBT in the media and especially in the movies it is now politically incorrect to make a joke about homosexuality. I understand that sexual orientations vary and I accept it but just because it exists doesnt mean I need to celebrate, dance and sing about it, and worse stii, if I dont go all hoopla about it doesnt automatically make me a homophobe. I mean you may have a different predisposition but that doesnt make you special or worthy of special treatment. It does not make you a symbol of progress of the human races. Which brings me back to my rant against symbols. Like colours for example - why is it when I wear green on independence day I am asked if I am celebrating with the 'neighbours', green is 1/3 rd the colour of 'our' flag too or when my friend buys a blue bike it somehow raises eyebrows of a casteist nature. These are colours, just like saffron is a colour, and they belong to all of us - u, me, him, her, everyone!

The Ballad of Reading Gaol

I have busy been studying (a perennial mistress of a doctor, trust me!) Hence, whatever little sparks of inspiration have flashed have been smothered, hidden or even outright killed!

So I'm borrowing from Oscar Wilde tonight and his Ballad of Reading Gaol!!

Please read the whole poem if you can lay your hands on it. I've been the richer for the experience of doing so!

(Excerpt from) The Ballad of Reading Gaol

                                                                        - Oscar Wilde

.....The man had killed the thing he loved

  And so he had to die.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves

  By each let this be heard,

Some do it with a bitter look,

  Some with a flattering word,

The coward does it with a kiss,

  The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,

  And some when they are old;

Some strangle with the hands of Lust,

  Some with the hands of Gold:

The kindest use a knife, because

  The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,

  Some sell, and others buy;

Some do the deed with many tears,

  And some without a sigh:

For each man kills the thing he loves,

  Yet each man does not die.......