The Coin Game

I wish on falling stars. I make a wish at 11:11. I wish on birthday candles and math tests and every time I cross the street. But I’ve never tossed coins in a fountain to make a wish.

I like fountains, though. Harel and I had a habit of taking a picture with every fountain we passed. Then we’d taken a picture with all the fountains, so we stopped.

There was this moment, back in Queretaro just a week and a half ago, when he and I were in a museum and in the middle of its courtyard, there was this ornate fountain, its basin shaped like an eight-pointed star. I leaned over to admire the blue and white tiles inside it, for a moment thought of making a wish on those waters, but we didn’t have any coins on us. And yet, the moment lingered, drawn out, as though something were stirring, my pockets yearning for a few pesos to cast aside, the world waiting to grant our wishes.

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Bloodlines: True Inte(grit)y

Yesterday I was deferred from donating blood.

Let’s face it: I had known it would happen. But I was determined to at least try, to throw myself into the fire and become–in a way–a martyr of equality, to change discriminating minds and make a difference.

It didn’t quite work out that way.

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One More Yellow Brick Behind Us

The news is late. If by now you haven’t heard, what are you reading my blog for? I’m an openly gay Jew–so I would presume most of my readers should know–and on account of this, if you’re following me, you’ve surely been following the news. So it’s no news today what I’m going most thankful for, and if it hasn’t been guessed already, then, really, why are you here?

No, I jest! Please stay! And here I shall refrain from writing “lol.”

24. The Repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

I had hoped my scathingly sarcastic and inherently ironic post a few weeks back would help push the people to seeing sensibility, and I suppose somewhat it might have worked–for not even a whole week or two after, it was successfully repealed! It’s been a long and arduous fight, but we’ve made it, my fellow monsters, we’ve made it!

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D is for Division

D is for a lot of things. In part that’s why I’ve taken so long to write this next installment in the ABCs of GLBT: There’s too many options. I might as well go through a few them along the way. It’ll all make my point in the end. I promise.

D is for Diligence. Since, in life, that’s what you need: You need to be diligent to get anything done. The fight for equal rights has been long and arduous so far, and it’s likely to stay long and arduous until it’s over. Without diligence, we–the GLBT community and the oft underappreciated armies of our straight allies–wouldn’t be where we are today. Without diligence, we won’t get where we want to be, either.

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B is for Blood

Or, A Bloody Disgrace

It’s 9:30 on a Thursday night and halfway through a supernatural TV show, a man’s throat is split open and he bleeds to death. On three other stations, seven nights a week, medical dramas and crime shows portray gory deaths and attacks even more frequently than this. On this same evening, half a dozen movies in theatres nationwide are rated PG-13 or R for excessive blood and gore. And at night before bed, most of the viewers of all of these programs curl up with lovely books full of even more bloodshed between the many mysteries, thrillers, and vampire novels circulating bookstores today.

Seems like there’s blood in excess everywhere.

Unfortunately for too many people, there just isn’t enough blood where it’s needed most—circulating their veins and arteries, nourishing the organs that keep them living 24/7.

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