So many stars in a night sky, twinkling like little beacons calling us home. You get the feeling of floating away if you stare long enough. So many stars to spot in a black night sky—yet it’s so hard to stay focused on just a single one. They seem to sparkle just to grab our attention; like an ocean of glitter longing to capture one eye.

I remember years ago climbing up on the roof of a friend’s place north of the city. We were fueled by wine and wondering. We decided to ponder the universe, its vastness and our minuteness. We ruminated and cogitated and laid down theories as to what the universe held…what may be looking back at us. We looked at the endlessness staring back at us and pondered our little lives. We let our imaginations soar into the celestial. There were so many stars.

It’s hard to comprehend the chaos that’s taking place before our eyes when we look up at the night sky. It reflects back serenity and peace and wonder and possibility. It also reflects back loneliness. It’s hard not to feel tiny and isolated when you look up. For a vacuum, it sure is filled with a lot of matter and antimatter. But we look and wonder…does any of it matter? Does any of this matter?

Pondering a night sky can make us feel limitless. It can make us feel brave. It can make us feel infinite. It can make us feel insignificant. So much happening in so much stillness, and yet we gaze, rapt and fascinated, dreaming, hoping and wishing upon a star.

So many stars…how do we ever find the one that twinkles for us?

Virgo by Josephine Wall

Enter Virgo (August 23-September 22). Of course, true to form, this mutable Earth Sign wants everything to be perfect for you. That’s why the leaves on the trees change colour in September – they’ve been green all summer long – and to a Virgo, that’s a bit boring. Virgo has also turned down the heat just enough for you to enjoy a beautiful stroll in the park with a light sweater. A Virgo says, “Bring on the Indian Summer!”

Virgo…virginal? Ha! Many Virgos laugh at that stereotype. Besides, the chastity belt does have to come off sometime!

According to astrological folklore, Virgo was once the most worshipped sign in the Zodiac. For one, it is the sign that rules the harvest, agriculture and nature. Worship to the goddess of the harvest took place every year when the Sun was moving through Virgo, and the success of the harvest during Virgo’s reign determined how much food would be available during the winter months.

Secondly, Virgo is the only sign in the zodiac that resonates female energy – yes, even the scales are men! – which means that individuals born under this sign all embody a special kind of energy that has been worshipped since the beginning of time.

Virgos are complex and interesting people, partially because they are ruled by the planet Mercury which is the ruler of communication. Virgo likes good service: remembering birthdates, pet peeves, and making sure that everyone’s shirts are tucked in or their runny noses are wiped clean. Despite all this, a Virgo’s greatest potential generally lies dormant until it is summoned forth by a truly worthy challenge. This could be in the form of a relationship, coming out, or helping a friend in need (Virgos often have the best advice!)

Virgos rule all pets. It’s true that Virgos do tend to nag and fuss, but it’s out of love rather than harassment. Virgos do try to be kind and low-maintenance – but everyone has their limits! A Virgo will hit his or her limit when the world lets them down, promises get broken, and potentials are left unrealized.

Virgos love the idea of a soul mate, given their quest for perfection. On any other day, a Virgo will keep their wits about them. Careful, precise – some can even say picky – they don’t make a move before consulting their hearts and their minds (they can analyze everything!). But that all goes out the window when love comes along! Virgo is an ambitious lover, and you can expect sex with a Virgo to improve over time.

Happy Birthday, Virgo!

I am not one to pass things on, but something this week is telling me to post this.

I love this parable and I hope you do too.

A person carrying water had two large pots each hung on each end of a pole, which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master’s house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its perfect accomplishments.
But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection. This went on daily for two full years. And finally the imperfect pot spoke to the water carrier one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.” “Why?” asked the carrier. “For two years, I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house,” the pot said. The water carrier replied, “As we return to the house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.” Indeed, as they went up the hill, the cracked pot noticed there were beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some.
But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the Pot apologized for its failure. The carrier said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on the side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? Every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my table. Without you being just the way you are, I would not have this beauty to grace my house.”
Whoever wrote this story also wrote: “Each of us has our own unique flaws. We’re all cracked pots. But if we will allow it, our flaws are used to grace life’s table. Don’t be afraid of your flaws. Acknowledge them, and you to can be the cause of beauty. Know that in our weakness we find our strength.”

Madonna. Monroe. Minogue. Cher. Gaga. Streisand. Garland. These are just a few of the classic icons gay men revere and have admired for decades. They are recognized as beacons in the fight for rights. They are lauded as survivors who triumphed in the face of adversity to become legendary. They are all considered to be powerful women of their time (and some, tragic icons). What’s missing from the list? Men.

Gay men have long pointed to and acknowledged women as cornerstones in the queer movement. Some are bestowed status because they were victims of their own existence in times they didn’t conform to, while others are cheered for their power, determination and sheer fortitude. Read the full story

I’m at a friend’s party, enjoying the eardrum pounding beats and loving the breeze and clouds ensuring I don’t get a heat stroke. I think there are 3 people who know my medical history, out of the two-dozen people with whom I am acquainted within a crowd of a few hundreds. I don’t put any thought into it beyond that, I’m there to have a good time. Why would transition factor in? I buy a woman a drink and make a few new friends along the way.

Eventually nature calls, I b-line for a stall feeling relief that the music makes it impossible for others to hear me taking toilet paper (a mild source of anxiety for me, not uncommon for pre-op trans guys.) Half way through my wiz, this guy manages to open the stall door even though I had locked it as best as I could. Read the full story

Well, today is Madonna’s birthday. It’s like the birth of the Baby Jesus to the Gay World. The day our queen (amongst queens) plopped onto planet Earth with a little bounce that turned into a thrumming disco thud.

I must admit that Madonna’s birthday is a little bittersweet for me. You see, I spent a meaningful afternoon with M several years ago and, well, the bitch never spoke to me again. Now, I call her a bitch with love and respect. After all, anyone who has featured herself trussed like a leather-bound Thanksgiving fetish goose and had a knife wielded at her wazoo by a shaved and pierced dyke can take a little “bitch” from little ol’ me.

Meanwhile, back to my bitter heart. M was in Toronto promoting a little album called Ray of Light. I was writing a radio show in those days and suggested we get an interview with Madonna for our little audio offering. I was told by one of the on-air personalities that if he couldn’t get an interview with her, I was spit-out-of-luck. The gauntlet had been thrown. Read the full story

Now that the Pride season is over for myself, I have taken a little time for reflection.  Ahhh, the memories.  Rainbow flags, drag queens, glitter, dance music, proud parents, sunscreen, sunburns and everything in between.  There is one thing that I can’t seem to wrap my head around though.  It’s something I’ve been pondering.  A question without an answer.  So I put it to you dear reader to help explain to me the reasonings why.  Let me paint you a picture.

You start your summer Pride diet when there is still snow on the ground, anxious about losing those extra winter pounds before your shirt comes off.

Tanning begins before the ground thaws.  You want to make sure to get a good solid base.  A natural healthy bronze that takes months of preparation.

Your gym regime increases.  You spend more time on the treadmill, lift heavier weights and drink more protein shakes.

In the weeks leading up to Pride, the Crest white strips go on to ensure that perfect pearly white smile.

You plan your hair cut and/or colouring process around the Pride weekend ensuring the perfect coiffed do for the event.

Waxing and hair removal is done with enough time for the redness and ingrowns to be taken care of.

The outfits are chosen.  Partly for style, partly for practicality, but always with a lot of thought.

Finally, the big day arrives.  You are there!  You are feeling sexy!  You have never looked better!  All those months of hard work and planning have paid off!

Why, at the festival, would you then feel it’s a good idea to stand in line and order yourself a big-messy-gets-stuck-in-your-teeth boiled CORN ON THE COB???

I don’t understand.

Usually, I am a winter person. I thrive and become alive when every one else seems to be coming down with the winter blues. This summer has been a little crazy! A little eye opening and a whole pile of fun. On second thought…let me clarify with a different kind of fun. My circle of friends hasn’t expanded like this since earlier in the decade. Remember those fun times we had in 2000 – 2003? I have been starting to explore this city’s night life once again and it is expanding my entertainment world! It’s what people do with friends; Go out for a night on the town.

I remember, I used to start my night on a Thursday, working my way down the Church St. strip until Saturday when I went to Fly all night, then the underwear party at the Barn on Sunday, home for a cat nap then to It night club Sunday night. It was non-stop fun! Okay I will admit, my nightlife schedule was a little overboard.

So lately I have been stepping out. (need to socialize) A few Thursdays ago, it was a friend’s birthday and we went to a mutual friends home for a lovely Georgian dinner. After, we thought we would head to the village for a birthday drink. Talk about dead! Most of the destinations weren’t even open. I thought the Thursday pub crawl was a given but alas even the old stand by of Woodies didn’t meet our expectations. We headed home rather disappointed but decided we would give it another try on the following Saturday night.

I have to admit, although the Church St. businesses were open on Saturday they simply didn’t have much going on and even wanted to charge a cover!? It’s Saturday night people! I could throw a quarter across Woodies, the Eagle, Straight (whatever that is) and not hit anyone. So what do people do in Toronto now? Have we all gone online to order take out from Manhunt? Perhaps there is a dinner party list that we haven’t made it on to. What’s happening?

Has Toronto’s Gay community changed their mode of socialization? I know that I have been MIA for a few years, but it’s Toronto! It has to be happening somewhere! I am on a mission to find it.

Dear Pat Robertson,

I thought I’d write you this letter as you must be crestfallen and quite befuddled about Proposition 8 being overturned recently in California; when I heard the news, I immediately thought of you. Ok, I didn’t, but I did begin to think of you shortly after the announcement was made—because of what you had to say on the subject.

Pat, from your lips to God’s ear to my fingertips:

“Ladies and gentlemen, what are we facing? The homosexuals want to destroy the church, and they want to destroy marriage. That’s what it amounts to. It doesn’t matter how sacred an institution is and how important it is to society, as long as there can be a confirmation that this lifestyle is acceptable. That’s what they want. Oh man, pray for this country.” Read the full story

We’re still a few months away from the polls but Toronto’s race for mayor is heating up—and so is the rhetoric. This week, mayoral hopeful Rob Ford put his foot in it once again by making rather alarming statements about the relationship between cars and bicycles. Suffice to say, he managed to offend quite a few two-wheelers.

Ford is famous for speaking his mind—apparently without thinking first, though. Probably his coup de grace was his opinion about the spread of AIDS. It went something like this: “If you are not doing needles and you are not gay, you wouldn’t get AIDS probably, that’s bottom line.” Read the full story