Page 37 of Nearly Roadkill: Queer Love on the Run
FUNNY OF THE DAY
We’ve pretty much come to the end of a time when you can have a space that is “yours only”—just for the people you want to be there.
Even when we have our “women-only” festivals, there is no such thing.
The fault is not necessarily with the organizers of the gathering.
To a large extent it’s because we have just finished with that kind of isolating.
There is no hiding place. There is nowhere you can go and only be with people who are like you. It’s over. Give it up.
SCRATCH JOURNAL ENTRY
To: Scratch
From: Winc
Subj: Make it or take it
I guess you can know now: Trenton, NJ is my home sweet home, I moved here from New York after it got too expensive.
You see, I was quite the flamboyant fixture on the Lower East Side, but I’m also a private person.
Everyone knew my name, said hello to me on the street, gossiped with me in all the shops and corner stores—but no one knew a thing about me.
Queer culture was all around me, but I didn’t hang out with anyone.
You and I have different ways of being private, darling.
On the bright side: even after moving down here, I kept my job.
::lopsided grin:: You can do phone sex from *anywhere*.
It’s pretty fucking bleak here after NYC. The streets are so narrow, and flamboyancy is not an option. So I’m stealth. My face tat makes folks look twice, and I’ve made a couple of old ladies cross themselves when they see me.
Look, you didn’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did. This whole thing is making me think deep, and that’s always good. I have a tendency to put on a great big smiley face, like all the best circus clowns. I’m just too tired to put on a big ol’ smiley face for you, my love.
::sigh::
Why does it matter so much to me, how you feel about me, what we are to each other? Haven’t we been discovering that we can be anything we choose? But I’m hurt because it’s finally clear to me that this stuff *is* a choice, and you talk real good but you’re not choosing me.
::looking out over the row houses::
I just know I’ll move back to New York. It’s just a matter of time. Time! I’ve spent so much time trying to be what I was second-guessing you’d want me to be that I never bothered to figure out what I want from you. I’ll work on that one now.
Yours in High Treason,
—W.
To: Winc
From: Scratch
Subj: Stuff
I don’t see where it says in the instructions what we gotta be.
Overwhelmed by the endless defining of ourselves. Why do it anyway?
The snap judgments I make are to protect myself.
This online space creates a village square where people can actually talk to one another. But we also have the freedom to contemplate what someone says and not be considered rude if we don’t respond at all! That’s an amazing freedom.
Winc, this weariness and grief is making me miss you. The you I know. I just want to fuse with you, to connect.
This separation between us hurts.
—S.
P.S. Re: Treason? What?
END SCRATCH JOURNAL ENTRY
To: D.I. Drew
From: Editor at They/Them magazine
Subject: Two rabbis go into a chat room
Kudos.
I find that their chat room style with each other is visceral—I can feel their bodies.
So different from their emails, which are a more intellectual level of conversation.
It’s like listening to two rabbis discuss the Talmud.
You probably already know this word but it’s one of my favorites: “sapiosexual.”
Thanks,
Asa
SCRATCH JOURNAL ENTRY CONT’D
To: Scratch
From: Winc
Subj: Grief
The separation between us hurts me too.
You ask why do we endlessly define ourselves. I hadn’t framed our romps that way before. I’ve been thinking of it as identity surfing. I like the endlessly part.
Why? How about because it’s so much fun? Yessssss, but fun for fun’s sake gets old after a while. However, fun that’s tied to enlightenment? Oh, man. I think it’s the old thing of peeling the layers off an onion. We keep looking for the heart of who we are.
—W.
P.S. Re: Treason. It’s official, hon. You and I are conspiring to overthrow the government of the United States of America. ::tossing hair:: Or didn’t you know?
END SCRATCH JOURNAL ENTRY
TOOBE ENTRY
No way Scratch could have read the announcement; ze doesn’t know how to access things very well. But it’s everywhere:
A Public Safety Announcement
from
the U.S. Government Bureau of Census and Statistics
presented with the cooperation of your local Internet Service Provider
and the Alliance of Consumer Industries
?
Regarding suspected criminals
and known Registration evaders
“Scratch” and “Winc.”
?
Suspected activities have resulted in the formal charge of
conspiracy to overthrow the government of the United States of America.
This is an act of High Treason, punishable by death.
WARNING
Any attempt to provide aid to or harbor the persons of “Scratch” and/or “Winc” will automatically carry a similar charge of conspiracy.
We apologize for the interruption, and we thank your local provider for their assistance in making this public safety announcement available to you.
End: PSA #427
END TOOBE ENTRY
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
He’s reading the PSA for about the thirteenth time.
“Aw, shit.”
Digital memos are piling up. He’s not answering them.
To: FBCS Investigations
From: Henderson, Enforcement
Subj: Where are they?
We can be mobile with thirty minutes’ notice. So, where are they?
—Henderson
… and…
To: Ms. Budge
From: Undersec’y LaBouchere
Subj: Green Light
Attached warrant for the arrest of Scratch and Winc. Do it.
… and probably the most disturbing one, causing the small hairs on the back of his neck to stand up…
To: All Bureau Personnel
From: Undersec’y LaBouchere
Subj: Protocol
A large number of citizens are using the screen names “Scratch” and “Winc” in varying combinations. e.g., Sccratch, Wink, Wincc, etc. We must assume these citizens are sympathetic to the anti-government sentiments of the perps.
In accordance with the Gingrich-Helms Free NetSpeech Act, the following safety precautions are hereby invoked and operative:
Any persons with the screen names “Scratch” or “Winc,” or any derivative thereof, may be located, detained, questioned, and/or held for any reason, whether necessary or not, on charges of aiding and abetting the overthrow of the government of the United States of America.
All websites or newsgroups, all chat rooms private or public, with topics including or referring to Scratch or Winc may be monitored openly or by stealth, and subject to immediate closure.
Let’s do what we get paid to do.
—L.
END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY
SCRATCH JOURNAL ENTRY
Private Message to Frankie
Hotdog: What up?
Frankie: ::purring:: G’morning… still sleepy eyes.
Hotdog: R u m or f?
Frankie: ::mischievous eyes:: Ah, darlin’… I’ve made an oath never to tell.
Private Message to Frankie
Johnny: Hey, dollface.
Frankie: YOU!
Johnny: Yep! We’re safe for the moment. Wanna join me?
Frankie: I’m, um… entangled just now. But yes yes yes wanna join you. Hang on.
Private Message to Frankie
Hotdog: R u wet?
Frankie: ::laughing lightly:: Takes more than the question to get me wet, love.
Hotdog: Heh heh.
Frankie: Oh darlin, I want you so bad but my husband and three children just trooped through the door, back from the mall. Gotta dash. ’nother day!
Private Message to Frankie
Johnny: ::looking at you evenly:: We’re live. We happened into this sector at the same time. Come to me.
Frankie: ::biting my lip:: Where?
Johnny: Private room “heat”
Frankie: ::nodding:: Be right there.
Online Host
*** Frankie has entered Private Room “heat” ***
Error: There is no host in the room.
Frankie: ::peeking in the door::
Johnny: No idea who Error is!
Frankie: ::shivering:: Everything like that is making me paranoid.
Johnny: I know. Me, too. I’ll check it out, brb.
Johnny has left the room.
Johnny has entered the room.
Johnny: bak. It’s Gwynyth’s Safety protocol!
Frankie: ::weak smile::
Johnny: ::smilin’ back::
Frankie: Scratch, I…
Johnny: Yes?
Frankie: Nothing.
Johnny: Look. I got one word for you, OK?
Frankie: Yeah?
Johnny: Hypothermia.
Frankie: ::blinking:: Is that supposed to be romantic?
Johnny: ::slow grin:: Want to know what it means?
Frankie: ::leaning back:: Uh huh.
Johnny: When a person gets hypothermia, it’s very difficult to revive them. You have to take them to the hospital and work on them all night long, because there’s nothing to replace body heat easily. ::deep breath::
Frankie: ::watching you, listening::
Johnny: In the mountains, when a hiker gets too cold ze’s got maybe half an hour until ze’s frozen. So the only thing ze can do is hope to find another person.
::pushing on::
That other person gets into the sleeping bag with the cold one, they have to both be naked, and they wait. Sure enough, the heat from the rescuer heats up the frozen person. Almost instantly. They have to stay together until the person’s heat comes back to normal.
Frankie: You’re making me cry.
Johnny: I was frozen, Winc. You warmed me up. I want to stay in the bag with you.
Frankie: ::loss for words::
Johnny: Um, ::talking rapidly:: it’s my favorite story. I’ve loved it since I first heard it from a crusty old ice climber.
Frankie: ::reaching my arms up around your neck::
Johnny: ::holding you close to me:: ::breathing you in::
Frankie: ::moving softly into your arms, crying crying::
Johnny: ::stroking your hair::
Frankie: Missed you missed you missed you.
Johnny: Samesamesame.
Frankie: ::willing my heat around the two of us::
Johnny: ::relaxing into you:: I used to bore people with that story, never had anyone get it.
Error: Window closing.
Johnny: We got to go. But now we’re… we’re all… you know?
Frankie: ::fiercely:: I know. We are. And we’re *gonna* be.
Johnny: --- loves when you get fierce.
Frankie: ::growling, extending claws::
Error: Window almost down, dearies. ::waving sage around the room::
Johnny: Wow! Gwynyth’s personalized touch! And she’s not even here!
Frankie: ::laughing:: Guardian angel!
Johnny: Bye, love. We’ll find each other, OK?
Frankie: ::nodding::
Frankie: Scratch?
Johnny: ILY.
Yes?
Frankie: ::softly:: Simulpost.
Johnny: I figured.
Error: Window closed. Communication stopped.
END SCRATCH JOURNAL ENTRY
TOOBE ENTRY
They were, as usual, oblivious. They were being called traitors! Do I nag them? Will they deal? Gwynyth still says to wait, but she got a tiny smile when I told her they were talking again. Tiny smile on her means a big one on other people.
END TOOBE ENTRY
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
Let the rest of the Bureau roust up the folks named Ssscratch or Wwwinc. Wally Budge is reading some very interesting correspondence, forwarded by one of his hackers.
BEGIN FORWARDED TEXT:
To: HoneyDew
From: Vina
Subj: Is that you?
Please forgive me if I’ve reached the wrong mailbox, but I’m looking for Winc. The real Winc. We heard that this is one of your screen names. I represent a group called The Coalition, and we need to locate Winc ASAP.
—Vina
With a satisfied grunt, he adds “HoneyDew” to his database and chalks up another entry for “The Coalition.” Patterns, patterns. Now we’re talking. Familiar territory at last. He feels like a cop again. The next message, however, isn’t so satisfying.
To: Ms. Budge
From: DevilsOwn
Subj: Progress, BUT…
We’ve got some leads. But something *really* weird is happening. Someone is pulling all the Scratch and Winc clones offline. Is that you? If it is, STOP IT! We’ve been using them to determine genuine leads.
And do you know about The Rally tonight at the Scratch and Winc Website? DON’T mess with it, okay? We’ll have it wired, and we’re counting on at least one live lead attending.
—Your everlovin’ Devil
Now ain’t that a kick in the pants? He forwards it to Shel, then calls her.
“Did you get that message from my hacker?”
“Yeah. I’m lookin’ at it right now.”
“How do I tell Her Ladyship to lay off all the Scratches and Wincs?”
“Heh, that came out funny,” she purrs.
“Ha! Yeah, but seriously, Shel, how do I tell her to leave all the websites and newsgroups alone?”
A pause, then, “Leave it to me. Dinner tonight at Antonio’s. You’re buying.”
“Shelly, if I had a nose full of diamonds and rubies, I’d sneeze them all achoo.”
END JABBA NARRATIVE ENTRY