Wednesday, April 22, 2009

On Time and The Gay Male Poet (Part One)

Love is Time.

No doubt about that. To take someone else’s Time can be criminal.

In graduate school, and in life, I am always so conscious of occupying too much of someone’s Time. When someone gives me a ride home, I bolt out of the car before it’s even stopped. I don’t want to linger over a good-bye. I want the person to be free. No regret about the Time it took to drive me from Point A to Point B.

I do a lot of walking. Which is good; I need to lose twenty pounds.

In graduate school, I rarely made appointments with my poetry writing teachers. I envisioned them seconds before my appointment, scanning my manuscript, thinking “Didn’t he get enough feedback in workshop?” Once I would come in, they’d eye the clock every couple minutes, waiting for my cue that it’s OK to stop, to take his Time back. It didn’t matter if our conversation was useful. He had given me an appropriate amount of Time; he had given me love.

*

Perhaps my issue with Time is why I never became a painter. With poetry, you begin with the title and continue reading until you reach the last word. You know when it’s over. Same thing with film. You begin with the first scene and then finish with the ending credits.

Looking at a painting messes up the issue of Time. When does the experience end? You never know when you should stop looking. How long are you supposed to look at it so that you achieve the full aesthetic experience?

I never know. Years ago my partner and I went to an art galley together to see a new exhibition. I looked at him looking at the painting.

He got annoyed.

I tried to explain: “When do we know that we no longer need to spend any more Time with this art?”

“When your boyfriend walks away,” he said. And then he walked away.

*

Straight people need to understand the issue of Time is different for gay poets. A lot different.

Gay poets have less time to create the art they need to show the world. Almost all of us took Time coming out. We started late figuring out who we are. Or at least part of who we are.

I know I always feel like I’m making up lost Time. It’s as if during our adolescence, sometimes even longer, Time had stopped. And even after. Think about what we as gay men have to deal with. Negotiating our disclosure with family and friends. Securing our own comfort with our sexuality. Dealing with the less attractive aspects of the gay community. Finding a man who can offer a loving relationship. Or a string of successful cheap tricks.

That’s an incredible lot. And that’s not to mention how we deal with our Art. How does our new identity affect our writing? Even if we choose not to write about explicit queer material, things change. Change only occurs after Time. And Time, much to our own anxiety, ignores our pleas, refuses our Desire.

9 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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  2. I'm only going to make the argument: I understand what you are getting at here, but I have to wonder, don't straight people have comparable problems?
    I can only speak for me, but I am 23 years old and I have no idea who I am. I have not experienced my own "coming out" so to speak, therefore when I begin something, I rarely finish it. When I DO finish something, it takes me longer than most because I have to search to find something of myself within it-which is difficult to do not knowing who you are.
    Just something to think about. It may not be the exact same issue, but couldn't it be compared at least on the emotional strain that straight people do not know much about who they are either...some of us more than others.

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  3. Dr. Fellner... why are you and anyone else who is gay, like you, the only delicate, beautiful flowers in the bunch? Why are you, special you, the person that time has a hit out on?

    I don't think you know how insensitive this post seems to people who aren't... well, you.

    You can't view your life as making up for time that you "weren't you," any more than you can define your life as that of a "gay man's" and stop there. We are always evolving.

    In my yard, there are three trees that bloom pink, each, one week after the next. First the magnolia, then something I don't know, then a cherry. The shades of pink go from pale to dark. You can't sit and dwell on a magnolia tree blossom... the cherry tree will pass you by.

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  4. Steve, did someone die and make you the spokesperson for all "gay poets" and how they use their time. What a presumptive, self-indulgent post.

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  5. Collin,
    You're kidding me. You think this post is presumptive and self-indulgent? It is a questioning and exploring post about how time crunches people. What kind of person writes a comment like that?

    Nicole

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  6. What kind of person writes a comment like that? Someone who doesn't have their lips pressed against Steve's backside.

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  7. So we should all rally around gay poets, protecting them from criticism. Unless they're Steve. Then we're ass-kissers.
    Got it.

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  8. Let me be very clear, Nicole, so you'll stop with the knee-jerk reactions. What bothers me about this post are these lines:

    Straight people need to understand the issue of Time is different for gay poets. A lot different.

    Gay poets have less time to create the art they need to show the world. Almost all of us took Time coming out. We started late figuring out who we are. Or at least part of who we are.
    This is not true of every "gay poet," nor most of the ones I know. We all don't have horror show coming out stories and we all don't dwell on who we are until it verges on the pathological. This statement is not only presumptuous, but false. Most straight poets I know are just as conflicted about their art, their time management and finding their own voice. Steve's attempt to make the "Time" of a poet somehow more mystical and angst-ridden than that of straight poets is divisive and ridiculous. Perhaps Steve was using the royal "we," but this statement is more reflective of the singular "him."

    I hope that helps, Nicole.

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