The government on gay marriage: when it moves forward, it moves back...

Prologue

I never write what I think for pleasure, but only when I feel driven to do so. By what? I don't know; an imbecilic impulse; the need to be "heard" by the illusory ear of a passing Internet user who is looking for something to do or who doesn't know how to spend his or her time better. I know my other readers; they are close friends. They are friends of mine, they read me, but they don't need to know who I am. It's a bit of a vicious circle of affection, but I thank them for it because it gives a bit of meaning to a life that is looking for it. In short, I react, as ridiculously as many of us do today, without really giving myself the means to influence things consequently. Just because the pressure of what is for me the surrounding media nonsense is getting too strong. I'm just blogging.

Unlike many bloggers, I often refrain from using this valve too much, because its implementation, the writing, always demands a disproportionate involvement compared to the relief I would like to get from it.

Because, basically, I write instead of killing; and this since I chose to use this obligatory "gift" as a weapon rather than not doing anything with it, which would have been better for me. But then, I prefer to be armed, even if it doesn't have the radical efficiency of a good shotgun, which I wouldn't even know how to use. I deplore this. I have often hesitated to learn, but the approach to shooting clubs rather horrifies me. I already shudder with disgust in front of the windows of gun shops. Yet the desire is there, firmly anchored in my stomach and has been nagging at me since my youth; since I became conscious. Conscious but not spontaneously courageous. Consciousness is a dirty gift, because it requires real courage for every act carried out on the fringe of the common and community path. Yes, it costs to realise what you are doing. I am not talking about the consequences. On the scale of my micro acts, there are very few. There would be, for sure, at least for my daily life, if I raised my voice, if I stood on a podium, if I waved the jar, if I deliberately made my thoughts more concise and simplistic to make a slogan.

If I have given up this approach of the easily swallowed little political pill, it's because I'm probably more interested in you, the famous readers, and this relationship with the individual, than in the excited crowds. I even think I understood that if I was performing, it was in a way to 'calm the crowds'. I don't meet the crowds of course, but let's say the audience. I try to generate a certain peace in those who, for many, have come to quench their thirst for enthusiasm; to calm their primal childhood to go and play elsewhere. "It calms them down, as they say. Yet it is this same childlike energy that I use to throw buckets of cold water on them (this is a technical aspect of my stage psychology that I will develop another time).

For it is the taste of blood in the mouth that a certain public in need of euphoria often comes to claim in the name of its enjoyment. They want to be excited, if they are not already excited when they arrive, and beyond that, filled with ecstasy. I have often heard people say, or said myself when I was still a spectator, "it's weak" or "it lacks..." instead of simply expressing "it doesn't suit me". This taste, shared by women as well as men, even if the most heterosexual of the latter display their hysteria less freely, is quite simply the expectation of the phallus, the desire to be filled, the call for a brutal penetration that impales you, pins you in place and transcends you...

In short, the culture of Western spectators makes them want to be turned upside down, to feel caught by all the holes and shaken like in a fairground attraction, the latter being aptly named here. Unwittingly and following values that the most feminist or leftist would disown, they want to reach orgasmic climax in a phallic form; to enjoy their posture and get their money's worth (especially when they haven't paid anything; but this is one of the most beautiful syndromes of human cowardice: "the more I pay, the less I bring it back" or "the more the artifices of the frame impose themselves on me, the more I worship it", which alone would deserve a long post) To have been well fucked and to come out of it shaken, dishevelled, sweating and with the head under the arm to finally be able to shout "to the genius" (common and well known translation of the Parisian dinners of : "I met God (before You); you're missing a revelation if you don't go in turn (on My advice)", proof that the ego is well satisfied by the ass.

Faced with this supposedly legitimate expectation, my only response as a creator, kind but firm, could be: "You know, your stupid narcissism as an individual who forgets his condition of misery and thus the misery of the world, makes me feel bad. Get it into your head that I don't give a shit about making you come. That's why you're coming; so that a guy like me can remind you that you're nothing; that you don't deserve anything; that no one, no entity owes you anything even if you've given up your shirt to him, despite the feeling that would lead you to consider that once you've been washed, dolled up; once your bank account has been checked; once you're out on the street, ready to go, you're ready to go.Once you are out on the street, ready to face the phony intrigues of social theatre, you will be able to find refuge in a community of views that will protect you and allow you to feel in your place, warm among your own kind.

No, there is no reliable and reserved place for you; that's how it is, and by saying so, I save you from the magical paradise of happy idiots where you were still hanging out. No, there is no family, no solidary social model, no real humanistic communities. As time goes by, individuals become fragmented, dissociated and prefer to build their own little nest rather than fully adhere to a collective.

Yes, giving up your cool is a job that you have to learn.

Some will say that I would not do it better if I did not want to be followed. They would be right. I don't want that. I don't want to be an object of worship, however small my church may be. All I want is to live in the quietness of a friendly world where everyone is free and autonomous and yet does not betray, mediate, harm, or murder for the sake of frustration at being frustrated by life, simply because others exist differently.

End of the prologue

 This brings me to the point, the impulse that has underpinned my words since the beginning of this page and which, in my view, required this long preamble by way of introduction to my position.

Or: "how an absolute thirst for peace, appeasement and calm can, if irritated too much, turn into a deadly appetite for detestation".

This vital impulse, which nevertheless falls under the law in terms of "incitement" strongly reprobated by the social mask, is Hate:

A hatred pure and bright as a shard of glass in the sun. A childish hatred as they all are when the pile of disappointments and the collapse of dreams has become too palpable.

My own hatred, pure, healthy and simple, in the face of that, more or less displayed, of the opponents and detractors of marriage for all.

My dreamed, fantasized desire (if I still have the right to do so in this society that blindly denies our bestial nature) to kill, eradicate, summarily execute, dancing like Zarathustra, anyone who grants himself the right to oppose the well-being of those who see this as a consecration, a recognition of their struggle to exist according to their desire.

I am not going to debate. Others will have done so or will do so; surely thousands of others orally or in writing.

I'm not going to debate because when you think a principle is good, you shouldn't debate.

Because there is no debate to be had about the equality and universality of the rights to unite with whomever we please and to gain the same social consideration as a pseudo-norm jealous of its advantages.

Because no one has to define for others what the ideal parental model should be, especially when it is nourished by such an obvious "racial" hatred of sexualities other than the supposedly "dominant" one (unverifiable, however, in the real practices and heads of each person).

Because it's about time the heterosexual hegemony collapsed and that's the point.

Because I am absolutely angry at this government that I helped elect for backing down by allowing or "flaccidly" encouraging debate on this subject, out of false or real softness, phoney democratic sentiment, lack of real combative desire, lack of those famous balls called into question and mentioned earlier in my prologue, but which would nevertheless be right at home in this context.

Girls, strap on your clitorises; boys, brandish your boners, the holy war against dogma is declared; there will be hard heads and soft asses to skewer!

Art and entertainment is poetry and fantasy. Politics is about commitment and action. Do not confuse.

The artist can and must philosophise, but the individual in power is only the armed arm of a people who have entrusted him with these weapons. He has no right to nitpick at the massive and visceral evolutions to which he has pretended to commit himself. If he does so, he casts us off from this power of which he is only the depositary.

It is therefore an unworthy method to rely on such essential hopes to win votes and then to temper the legitimate enthusiasm thus aroused with a very "parental" moderation and the risk of a debate that has no place whatsoever.

This government is behaving here with an irresponsible whimsy that does not belong to it, by not resolving to keep its word more firmly.

The stakes are very high for a real evolution of morals and behaviour; to move towards the eradication of one of the most universally spread racisms, homophobia, which somehow underlies all the others in a logic associating "inferiority", "sub-humanity" and "femininity".

Once announced, such a law must pass. It has to pass and then that's it.

Mitterrand did not dither about abolishing the death penalty as he had promised; six months after his election, the law was enacted.

This is of equal importance, as it is obviously much more than the formal union of two people. By making it a law, it is the recognition and formal equalisation of homosexuality with heterosexuality and thus of bisexuality.

One does not procrastinate on such fundamental issues when one is a left-wing elected official.

And God knows (there he is again!), I personally don't give a damn about marriage of any kind. It's not in my plans, and I particularly hate cocooning couples. But things are taking a different turn today. That of a confrontation, not to say a latent war.

Ah, of course, if I had the capacity to do so without turning a blind eye and if I were fully convinced of the effectiveness of the results, I would not be without a good war.

Even if it starts small, like a neighbourhood guerrilla war. I've been dreaming about it for a long time - and I'm not the only one, I'm sure - punitive expeditions like the Klu Klux Klan against clearly identified homophobes; in order to reverse the trend, which is very well tolerated by the states, of queer bashers who have been rampant at all times and relatively unpunished. Who hasn't wished, if he or she is at all concerned, that terror would turn against those who generated it and that for once they would be forced to curb their stupidity and think twice before expressing it?

But here's the thing: while the first blow would certainly give me great pleasure, the idea of a violent outburst does not appeal to me. Once the flesh is bruised and disgusting with blood, once the bones are broken and the body mutilated for the rest of its life, what has been gained, assuming that rage has given us the strength to prevail?

Turning the tide? For a while yes.

Eradicate latent homophobia and envious stupidity? No.

Only the inclusion in the law, combined with the officially recognised social mix, allows for the ratification of an evolution of customs and mentalities leading the population, as well as the public of a creation, to recognise, through an established habit, that everything, definitely EVERYTHING in nature IS NORMAL and that there is no gender hierarchy.

Let the right-wingers, the religious, the deniers of human nature and of the diversity of genders and cultures, stop bothering us with their fantasy of sin and the Monster. It's up to them to cure themselves with good psychoanalysis, that's all.

You see, my romanticism would like to escape a little from this world harder than iridium, but monsters unfortunately... they don't exist.

As far as monsters and demons are concerned, on earth as in heaven, there are only dirty bastards.