Dictionary.com : "PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE"

Late this evening, I decided finally to sign on as a Registered User of Dictionary.com; and to my delight, upon viewing their homepage after registration, I was slapped straight over my short, lil' sliver of a misshapen schnoz by one right retrospectively referential (i.e., as robustly realistic painted portraiture) and new, yet unrecognized and erudite vocabulary word:

PAPHIAN : [pey-fee-uhn] or /ˈpeɪfiən/
— adjective

1. of or pertaining to Paphos, an ancient city of Cyprus sacred to Aphrodite.
2. of or pertaining to love, esp. illicit sexual love; erotic; wanton.
3. noting or pertaining to Aphrodite or to her worship or service.

— noun

1. the Paphian, Aphrodite: so called from her cult center at Paphos.
2. ( often lowercase ) a prostitute.

Origin:
1605–15;  < L Paphi ( us ) (< Gk Páphios  of Paphos, of Aphrodite) + -an

"Paphian." Dictionary.com Unabridged, Random House, Inc. 24 Jan. 2011.
< Dictionary.com http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/Paphian >.

On the Dictionary.com homepage, an abstracted meaning of PAPHIAN: Word of The Day (Jan. 24, 2011), appeared in large font just below the main menu of links of the left-hand sidebar. The definition there simply read: "of or pertaining to love, esp. illicit physical love." Surely, such a term and the words that define its meaning would catch the curious, meandering eyes of any unsuspecting Site Visitor or Registered User. 

Of course, one may easily recognize the obvious ploy that Dictionary.com Site Moderators had made to foster an increase in quick on the uptake "CLICK THRUs" and site traffic. Who wouldn't be immediately reeled in by mention of any word "pertaining to ... illicit physical love?" Without a single hesitation, I surely was taken aback and taken in. 

What allured me so to a furthered investigation of the multiple definitions of PAPHIAN was the alliterative resemblance this particularly patrician nominal descriptor has to that oh-so particular-to-me proper noun (i.e., "a great big fiery bird") from which my drag-burlesque musical number for "Resident Alien" – Sins Invalid Artists In Residence Show takes its title: PHOENIX a'FIRE!! 

In retrospect, as mentioned, I realized that this word (i.e., PAPHIAN) would have served as a brilliant addition to the alliteratively rhymed lyrics of my quite-so quintessentially QHereKidSF poemsong. Had I discovered the word weeks prior, I would have been able to elaborate successfully upon the song with yet another perfectly pedantic, prettily unplebeian, poetic term: PAPHIAN. 

But, alas! With our performances set to debut in 2 to 3 days, there would be absolutely no allowance of time nor attention dealt to QHereKidSF for the reworking of these lyrics. Such a feat would be impossible to devise! So, I was left a bit begrudged by my charismatically quick and cut-dry uptake of the term; however, my frustrations did not stop me from indulging myself in further investigation of the word through quotations. Little did I know that my linking to a quote by George Bernard Shaw would lead me to an unsatisfactory and equally enervating "dead end."  

Shaw's use of the word, PAPHIAN, is a masterpiece of the Reformist Socialist literary genre, which Shaw himself engendered; in that, his small passage of prose does preserve an eloquent simplicity of expression that is not hindered nor by pedantry, nor by plethora of challenging lexicon:

I THINK I WALKED THROUGH LIFE AT THAT TIME LIKE A SOMNAMBULIST; FOR I HAVE SINCE SEEN THAT I MUST HAVE BEEN PILING MISTAKE UPON MISTAKE UNTIL OUT OF A CHAOS OF MEANINGLESS WORDS AND SMILES I HAD WOVEN A PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE.

— George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950), Anglo-Irish Socialist playwright, critic.

The Irrational Knot: Book II, Chapter XIV, p. 286. Brentano's; New York, 1918.

http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2011/01/24.html

(accessed: January 24, 2011).

Indeed, to what "dead end" did I arrive upon accessing the Dictionary.com: Word of The Day page, earlier this evening? To my disgruntled dismay, Shaw's quotation on this page had no link to a separate but particularly applicable resource page, as is the usual standard for Dictionary.com. 

The extended source notes written in the attribution above, I discovered through extensive Internet research which lead me to the Archive.org original text browser for Shaw's The Irrational Knot, at the following URL: http://www.archive.org/stream/irrationalknotbe00shawiala (accessed: January 24, 2011). From there, I was able to enter the key phrase "PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE" into the file-specific search engine at the top-right of the webpage. Thus, I was lead to the exact page (p. 286) in the original work, whereon Shaw writ the quotation presented above. Below is the direct image of that page:

If perchance, Dictionary.com Site Moderators come across this blog post as a NOTE available on my Facebook Profile: http://facebook.com/mblanchard79, then I hope that they would seek to rectify the apparent "loose/dead ends" that are leaving site visitors, like myself, in the lurch. 

I kindly request that Dictionary.com: Word of The Day Quotations be integrated into the "QUOTES" Section and subdomain of the website; otherwise, those visitors to Dictionary.com interested in citing a source for these quotes will not be able to do so without a seriously deep dive into the vast cyberwaves of the Internet. 

And, of course, if Dictionary.com cannot readily remedy this perturbing situation with all its quotation source "dead ends," then could Site Moderators, please, at least add Shaw's "PAPHIAN LOVE TEMPLE" quotation, cited and attributed correctly above, to the Dictionary.com "QUOTES" Section and subdomain?

  

With these humble requests, I gratefully close this extemporaneous explication and evaluation of Dictionary.com: Word of The Day feature. I'm thankful to have been invited and encouraged by Dictionary.com to add a new word: PAPHIAN, to my ever expanding vocabulary. Furthermore, I look forward to continuing to broaden my familiarity with the numerous valuable features available to Dictionary.com Registered Users, as I embark now on a more informed, thus more frugal and less frantic foray into the depths of such Web-based Vocabulary Resources as those provided by Dictionary.com. Thank you!! Cheers! Ciao. Namaste... (i.e., I bow to the gods within you).

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

Matthew D. Blanchard

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf 

[20110124T222715PST]

San Francisco, CA USA

WordReference: La honte et l'apprentissage

Façons originales de traduire "CREATE THEATRE," et. al.
En réponse d'une demande de renseignements sur "THEATER" (c.f. MmePitchounette, Senior Member du Forum: Vocabulaire Français/Anglais, de WordReference.com), je vous offre de nombreuses traductions tirées directement de ma propre imagination. Quoique ces exemples soient tous exprimés en une voix formalisée de façon particulière, ainsi qu'en outre le français ne soit pas ma langue maternelle, il n'en demeure quasi pas moins que ces exemples restent valables et pourraient bien vous servir, peut-être. Voici, mes suggestions à vous (par l'ordre de priorité):

DISPLAYS THAT CREATE THEATER & BRING THE BRANDS TO LIFE...

a.) Portant un aura de mystique théâtrale, des étalages en insufflent un nouvelle force aux marques.

b.) Des étalages enveloppés de mystère du théâtre en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

c.) Des étalages qui évoquent l'esprit du théâtre et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

d.) Des étalages qui créent une sensation théâtrale et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

e.) Des étalages qui donne naissance au théâtre et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

f.) Des étalages qui produisent l'effet du théâtre et en insufflent une nouvelle force aux marques.

Comme vous le pouvez voir d'après ces exemples, mon approche ou façon originale d'aborder une propre traduction de votre déclaration écrite comporte multiples tentatives de communiquer le même sentiment en diverses manières, par les activités d'éveil. C'est-à-dire, par le recherche, la découverte, l'expérimentation, le reclassement et le remontage des nouveaux mots de vocabulaire, on pourrait normalement réussir à trouver une belle expression éloquente qui se suffit à elle-même en tant qu'une bonne et propre traduction d'une phrase originale.

Si, dès le début, vous cherchassiez à dire/écrire votre phrase originale de manière le plus convenable: "Displays that create theatre and bring the brands to life," je maintiens une démarche assurée qui suggère que vous deviez tenter d'élaborer d'abord et puis accentuer d'une manière autant inédite que poétique votre usage de la langue française, afin de trouver "une bonne et propre traduction."

Une telle exercice serait non seulement un moyen d'arriver à vos fins, mais elle serait aussi un moyen de profiter de l'occasion d'approfondir l'aisance et la facilité avec lesquelles vous vous exprimez en français.

Voilà, ma philosophie pédagogique vis-à-vis l'apprentissage des langues étrangères:
La bonne pratique courageuse et aventurée d'un langage nouveau et expérimenté auquel on ne soit pas encore tout à fait très bien habitué, permettra aux apprenants d'approfondir leurs connaissances et capacités de s'exprimer en langues étrangères d'une manière la plus éloquente et raffinée que possible.

Il y aura certes quelques-uns parmi vous, les lecteurs et répondants de ce fil de discussion du Forum Vocabulaire Français-Anglais de WordReference.com, qui ne seront pas de tout à fait d'accords ni avec mes traductions suggérées, ni avec ma philosophie et mes conseils, étant donné que le français n'est pas ma langue maternelle.

Au moins je vous aurai fait comprendre et apprécier le résultat efficace, bienveillant et fructueux de ma méthode particulière pour déduire des pseudos belles et bonnes traductions alors que je possède au moins un peu de perspicacité et compréhension uniques et créatives de la manière dont NOUS: Les Anglophones Francophiles, pourrions le plus souvent arriver à très bien traduire une phrase de l'anglais en française (même si le français ne soit pas notre langue maternelle)!!

Bonne chance et bon courage, MmePitchounette... J'espère que tous ce que je viens d'écrire soient pour vous utiles et riches en renseignements. Vous trouverez certes de fautes lexicales et grammaticales partout dans celle-ci, ma petite rédaction sur ma propre méthode à moi d'acquérir et approfondir une meilleure connaissance de la langue française. Néanmoins ou malgré tout, j'espère ainsi que je ne fusse pas arrivé à me plonger dans l'embarras ni à me sentir gêné par mes plusieurs fautes. La honte est surtout l'ennemie de l'apprentissage!!

Cheers! Ciao & Namaste...
Cordialement,
Mathieu/Matt(e)o
__________________
M. Blanchard | QHereKidSF (San Francisco, CA USA)

WordReference: I count myself amongst them!

I'm not sure what led me to it, but after an evening of meandering mindlessly along on my cyberwaves surfboard, I 'stumbled upon" a very familiar website: WordReference.com, in search of the proper translation for the English/American phrase, "I count myself amongst them." The following is a complete exert from the most pertinent thread of the WordReference.com Language Forums (Italian-English) that I could find with a quick glance of the index. 

Below, you will find an original thread entitled "I count myself amongst these," along with three responses to that specific thread, including my own. As a header to the original thread and its responses, I have included the screen names, descriptions and links to the profiles of those persons who posted either the original thread or their own responses to it, including my own.

Let it be known at the onset of this citation, for the record, that I freely admit to having the tendency while in the WordReference.com Language Forums not of flaunting my inherently flawed non-native fluency in various languages, but rather of tenaciously tackling the gargantuan challenge of expressing my thoughts in languages that are foreign to me, by exercising my second/third language learning skills with much vivacity, determination and zeal.  

What does this mean, really? Well, for what most contributors devote a mere thirty words of explication, I tend to ramble onward and upward of about three hundred or more words, just to get my point(s) across — be they relevant, or not!!  It's exasperating, but undeniably exciting & fun, experimenting with words in such a way.  

For the case of this particular WordReference.com Forum thread, I leave it to all of my Italian-speaking friends & followers to cajole, console and encourage me with corrections of any sort! Thanks for the help, ahead of time! Lord knows, I'll need it!!

10th November 2010, 04:48AM PST

TONY DANDOLO

Junior Member

Native Language: English/Australian

I count myself amongst these

Could someone please help me to translate "I count myself amongst these." Context is "Many people find the buildings in Rome fascinating. I count myself amongst these."

Am I able to get away with saying, "Mi annovero tra questi"? Could I use the "ne" somehow?

Thanks,

Tony

10th November 2010, 04:50AM PST

BLACKMAN

Senior Member

Native Language: Italian/Sardinian

Re: ne and annoverrare

No, you can't. Your translation is perfect.

10th November 2010, 05:28AM PST

AKIRE72

Senior Member

Native Language: Italian/Florentine

Re: I count myself amongst these

"Molte personne sono affascinate dai monumenti di Roma. Io sono fra/una di queste."

But, you could also say:

"Molti sono affascinati dai monumenti di Roma. Io ne sono un esempio."

19th November 2010, 07:19AM PST

MATHIEU/MATT(e)O

Junior Member

Native Language: English/American

Re: Come scegliere tra una risposta e l'altra...

Se il mio italiano, oltre ad essere la mia seconda lingua straniera, non mostrasse perfino una grammatica perfetta a tacere di vantare una ottima maestria del lessico italo-europeo e della sintassi neolatina, vale ancora la pena di sapere come distinguere tra la giusta risposta od una risposta macchiata solo di grande stima.

Ma questo c'entra poco, salvo errori ed omissioni, giacché il dibattito sul soggetto delle varie traduzioni di locuzione verbale nonché preposizionale: "to count oneself amongst them," fu stato già trattato in lungo e in largo — sennò scritto "ad nauseam," così com'è detto di solito nel inglese neolatino — in tutto questo filo di foro.

Ci è bastata la prima volta qui quando fu stato già datto l'unica guista risposta, ma Loro la farò vedere lo stesso!! Per quanto ci possa provare, non riesco impedirmi di dire a Loro le mie opinioni, per il poco che possano valere:

Dopo avere fatto un imponente tentativo di giudicare le due risposte principali sopraccitate — una contra l'altra — mi sono a pena reso conto della grande differenza di significati fra le due risposte:

a.) "Mi annovero tra questi" è soltanto un esempio di traduzione letterale, esatta e precisa; privo di immaginazione, mentre...
b.) "Io sono fra queste / Io ne sono un esempio" sono infatti due esempi di traduzioni più idiomatiche che l'altro suddetto, a causa dei loro significati più plebei però fuori dell'ordinario.

Mi fanno piacere le due traduzioni di Akire72, perché, secondo me, rivelano una fortissima stretta della lingua italiana.

Nonostante fosse stato concesso al pubblico dei fori di WordReference.com così come sembrare fin troppo bene l'unica risposta conciliante e adeguata per Tony Dandolo: un allievo appassionato di lingue straniere, il primo esempio di risposta dato da Blackman non conseguiva niente oltre a lodare e stimare un principiante anglofono dei fori di WordReference.com a tal punto che l'inferiore non avrebbe appreso niente se non fosse per gli due altri esempi dati dalla fiorentina, Akire72.

A ogni buon conto ed a conti fatti, che diavolo sto facendo? Aspiro a riconoscere inoltre donde sono nati la confusione e il disguido in questo filo di foro.

Almeno ci ho eppure provato a distinguere tra una risposta non così proficua e una risposta esemplare che non soltanto mostra una struttura linguistica giusta ma pure che dà sfogo ad un espressione colloquiale facile da ricordarsene. Chi s'è visto s'è visto, non?
__________________
WordReference contributors. "I count myself amongst these," WordReference.com Language Forums (Italian-English). 2010, Jelsoft Enterprises, Ltd. http://forum.wordreference.com/showthread.php?t=1974223 (accessed: November 19, 2010).
 

Cordialmente,
Mathieu/Matt(e)o
__________________

M. Blanchard | QHereKidSF (San Francisco, CA USA)

ACCESS POINT – Point d'Accès

Depuis des jours, je me suis échappé à une vide créative, qui durait à peu près 4 ou 5 mois. Alors, je tente à faire travailler le côté gauche de mon cerveau, puisque j'y ai découvert un point d'accès à un trésor d'idées fortement originales. DIEU MERCI!

Some days ago, I escaped a creative void, which had lasted as much as four or five months. So, I am attempting to make the left side of my brain work, since I discovered there an access point to a treasure of highly original ideas. THANK GOD!

STATUS UPDATE – ORIGINAL

Depuis quelques jours, je me suis échappé à une vide (mieux dite: "une absence," un soif ou une faim) de créativité, qui durait certes à peu près plus de quatre ou cinq mois... Maintenant, je tente à bien travailler le côté gauche de mon cerveau, -- Là, d'où fonctionnent, non pas l'intellect mais, plutôt mon esprit critique et mes impulsions créatives! -- puisque j'y ai découvert un point d'accès à un trésor d'idées fortement originales.

La "découverte" et la "recherche" de ces idées et impulsions, ces expériences sont celles-là qui m'amusent, m'assouvissent et me satisfont par-dessus tout. Donc, c'est en reconnaissance de tous ceux-là que je proclame sans doute, ni honte, ni crainte:

DIEU, MERCI!! Vous m'avez certes béatifié et béni! Vous, DIEU, qui êtes le plus bienfaisant de tous autres saint-esprits! Dieu, je Vous dois ma vie!! Ne Vous inquiétez pas, car il n'y a rien à craindre. Je vous revaudrai toute celle-là. Je vous la promets!

Retournons alors au travail!

Sauf d'abord, il vaut dire à vous tous qui lisez mes mots et les comprenez bien, "SVP, Souhaitez-moi la bonne chance!!" J'en aurai certes besoin! Car, même si j'aie trouvé la capacité et des facultés avec lesquelles je puisse accéder à ma créativité, ceux ne sont riens sans une forte dose de chance...

Some days ago, I escaped a void (better said: “an absence,” a thirst or a hunger) of creativity, which had lasted certainly almost more than four or five months… Now, I am attempting to work well the left side of my brain, – There, from where functions, not the intellect but, rather my critical self and my creative impulses! – since I found there a point of access to a treasure of strongly original ideas.

The “discovery” and the “research” of these ideas and impulses, these experiences are those which amuse, satiate and satisfy me above all else. Thus, it is in recognition of all of this that I proclaim without doubt, nor shame, nor fear:

THANK YOU, LORD!! You have certainly beatified and blessed me! You, GOD, who is the most beneficent of all other holy spirits! Lord, I owe you my life!! Do not you worry, for there is nothing to fear! I will return the favor. I promise you that!

Let’s return to work!

Except first off, it is worth saying to all of you who read my words and understand them well, “PLEASE, Wish me good luck!!” I certainly will need it! For, even if I might have found the capacity and the faculties with which I may gain access to my creativity, these are nothing without a heavy dose of luck…

Cordialement,

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF 

Matthew D. Blanchard

San Francisco, CA USA

http://bit.ly/qherekidsf

http://pulse.yahoo.com

[20101110T222547PST]

ON MOTHERHOOD: "Nature vs. Nurture"

While researching the meaning and popularity of my given name: Matthew, in preparation & as subtext for a monologue that I'm preparing for my Sins Invalid Artists In Residence (A.I.R.) Showcase performance, I "stumbled upon" the website, CafeMom.com, which conveniently catalogs baby names by category, popularity, date and by other distinguishing factors; the website also provides a social networking platform for expectant and/or experienced mothers.

The following is the complete text, which was intended to serve as my profile discussion introducing my puppy dog, TANNER'baby, as my first and only child. I discovered only after a few good hours of creative writing, when I tried to confirm my profile on CafeMom.com, that the website prohibited any discernibly male-gendered persons from accessing their social network as a member.

Nonetheless, I feel it worthwhile for me to post what I had written for their website, for the simple fact this, my essay: ON MOTHERHOOD, indeed reveals some very pertinent & potent aspects of my psyche, as they be related to relations with my own mother. In fact, what was supposed to be a passage limited to 500 words, turned into a torturously contemptuous tirade against my own mother.

I'll be straight forward with my introduction here, for I admit frankly & freely that this essay against my mother can easily be interpreted as damned vehemently vicious, venomous and cruel, if read out of context and incompletely; however, MIND YOU! This is a happy story!

Truth be told! This is a story founded on a sincere desire to love and be loved, to restore a stable, healthy, worthwhile and meaningful relationship between mother and son. All the pejoratives and derogatory vocabulary I use to describe my mother come from a place of immense sympathy, empathy, and love.

True, it is inappropriate to call such deprecation empirical, however constative my utterances may seem; being that these words are mere manifestations of my own severely biased, negative judgments and opinions of my mother. Despite the harsh tone and timbre of my words, I freely, confidently & gratefully admit that my mother's love for me (and her other children) is truly immense! 

In fact, I would even go as far as to argue that my mother's love of her children is so intensely, unfathomably immense that, just as the scope of Man's intellect is far too limited to contain and comprehend a truly complete understanding of the Sublime, the sublime love my mother has for her children fully exceeds the capacity of her imagination, emotions and intellect.

For this sad fact, my mother truly suffers, and I'd be damned if I didn't wish things different for her, for me, for us. Likewise, this sad fact defines and buttresses my own sympathy and love for my dear, dear mother, MOM!! God bless her, endlessly!! I pray.   

Before I begin serving up pleasantly sycophantic praises of my oh so adorable, high-energy & affectionate amber-haired Terrier-mixed mutt, permit me please to describe the context within which a 30-something, single, San Francisco Fog City gay man, like myself, presumes to find new friends amongst CafeMom.com members.

As a young queer, but closeted, college-bound over-achiever of teenage years, I sadly suffered the wrath of dysfunction born of my own mother's unmonitored, unmitigated manic depressive alcoholic binging & blackouts. Thus, I forcibly distanced myself mentally, emotionally, and yes, even physically (i.e., geographically) from my seriously sick and psychologically frail single mom.

Coincidence smiled slack-jawed some thirteen or fourteen years ago, when I first mandated distance from & distrust of maternal wrath & reign in my life. Concurrent to the disappearance of my mother, my benevolently better-intentioned & bigger brained educators innocently indulged and thus cemented my caustically cautious contempt for the schizoaffective, severely alcoholic & codependent maternal forces of my absentee and/or aggressively antagonistic family.

My teachers, to whom I gratefully granted custody of my capriciously prodigal intellect, introduced to me through scholastic study the convincing conclusions (i.e., covertly complementary bio-psychosocial arguments) of Francis Galton's Darwinian-based theories & theses on "Nature vs. Nurture."

By analyzing the extensive empirical evidence acquired through the lifelong, cutting-edge biological studies of his cousin, Charles Darwin, Galton determined the unequivocally evolutionist role of the relationship, first interpreted as dichotomic binary, between "an individual's innate qualities ('nature,' i.e., nativism or innatism) versus personal experiences ('nurture,' i.e., empiricism or behaviorism) [...] in determining or causing individual differences in physical & behavioral traits."[1]

Modern psychologists have come to criticize Galton's distinction between nativism & behaviorism "for its binary simplification of two tightly interwoven parameters."[2]

Today, the empirically extant binary between "nature" & "nurture" is more commonly interpreted as involving a relatively DYADIC (i.e., linked, interactive, symbiotic) co-dependence, rather than a DICHOTOMIC (i.e., contrary, mutually exclusive, independent) opposition, between the influence & impact of:

A.) "NATURE" : the uniquely concretive genetic profile of individual progeny inherited directly from their biological progenitors, and...

B.) "NURTURE" : the subtly nuanced psychosocial behaviors, traits and/or characteristics learned [i.e., "gain[ed] (a habit, mannerism, etc.) by experience, exposure to example, or the like; acquire[d]") from those individuals serving or interpreted as role-models, guides, or teachers within one's sociocultural environment.[3]

Today, in my "eyes wide shut," there no longer seems to exist a valid argument, but rather an agreement, between the concepts of "nature" & "nurture." In this vein, I see myself the son of a manic depressive, schizoaffective, actively alcoholic mother, who in his own time has perpetuated the traits, traditions and inheritances of his maternal line through severely catastrophic "quarter-life" crises.

Such crises began cruelly crippling my confidences, as far back as the Second Grade -- How well I recall that ineffable moment, when I was first called, "FAGGOT!" I often bitterly & begrudgingly recall the ostensibly laughable fact that, at the innocent, naive age of only seven, I was belligerently lambasted with brutal, brutish teasing for having erroneously defined "blow job," as being: You know! Like, when you go to SuperCuts®, and after the lady cuts your hair, she "blow" dries it!

More recently, these crises have tangibly & tragically crippled my mind, my body & my health. Fast forward to (or remembering in retrospect) the most ineffable, ill-fated & unfortunate day of my sad, sorry life: October 7, 2007.

Sure! We are now many chapters further along from my early adolescence, but this single day in my turned 'round story of survival & redemption is equally (if not astoundingly more) unforgettable than the years upon years of persecutions I succumbed to as a very lousy, lonely, lachrymal school-aged lad.

In early October, just over three years ago, I was found alone & on the brink of death, after what doctors now believe must have been 10 to 12 days of comatose confinement, brought on by overdose-induced, HIV/AIDS-related PCP pneumonia and a poly-microbial bacterial infection of the face.

The San Francisco Fire Department busted down my door to find me lying face-down & belly-up in my stark, unsterile studio apartment; painfully contorted and coiled up in the soiled, sickening sheets of my sullied, stained single bed. Blood streamed sanguine from my back-end, from my blackened necrotic nostrils and mouth, from the empty ethereality of my ears and eyes.

I was covered in my own vomit, urine and defecation, and all but nine of my teeth had fallen out "under the weight of my aching, dying brain." I had been forgotten, left alone, depraved & denigrated, deteriorating toward death; yet, by some ridiculously rare reversal of fate, I was rescued, redeemed & restored to life.

A rescue brigade – purportedly, a near dozen of emergency vehicles; all with lights emblazoned & flashing; sirens blaring in cacophonous mayhem and mercy – rushed me speedily & without delay, directly to the nearest hospital emergency care unit. After some quick and effective lifesaving maneuvers (i.e., blood transfusions, dialysis, wound care, heavy doses of generic antibiotics), my fading heart rate was stabilized; brain activity restarted.

Then, "a team of San Francisco’s leading diagnosticians, doctors & surgeons fought valiantly, yet failed so sorely to" curb, control and defeat the necrotizing bacteria which infected my face. Their only option, in order to ensure my survival, was the immediate debridement of all the necrotic, infected skin, flesh and bone of my once quite beautifully handsome visage.

For eight weeks, I remained in a drug-induced comatose state, with my entire head wrapped in white gauze bandages. After having amputated my entire upper jaw & palette, as well as deeply denigrate parts of my mouth, the left side of my nose, and my septum, a godsend group of most heavenly, heroic healers waited for the great gaping hole in the center of my face to heal.

Sadly, I cannot recall or recognize my selfless saviors, these "heavenly, heroic healers," as my mind's eyes were closed off to consciousness & seeing, while they worked their wonders on me.

However, you cannot conscientiously consider this lifelong continuum of crises after crises as mere counterfeit confabulations of my residual angst & anger, psychically preserved in the seemingly spurious spewing of my gad-awfully disgraceful, ungrateful gay boy guts.

For, however unrealistically severe sound my stories of sad, sad sufferance – both inherited & learned – the gad-damned destitution, destruction, deprivation, drug dependency, depression, disease and disfigurement, which have tortuously tormented me 'til present day, are terribly, entirely telling and TRUE!!

Still, such conspicuously catastrophic crises have, each in their own turn, torn me from the bliss of my not entirely outlandish optimism, inspiration, aspiration, hope and faith in Self, only to catapult me cruelly and contemptuously toward all but indomitable death; as if, as retribution for the heartless, angry animosity I've held toward my mother for my entire young life!

In spite, despite, or perhaps even because of my madly miserable mother, I have learned to survive great sufferance & struggle. Finally, at the age of thirty, I have come to transcend the pain, the shame, the disgust and disgrace, the disappointments, dissatisfaction & contempt.

I have languished and labored in battle over the brutal bereavements & bombardments of the neuro-psychobiological symptoms and side-effects of my bipolar disorder, schizoid-delusional psychosis and substance abuse; indubitably, inherited from my mother. 

I have also always often fought against my psychosocial behavioral impairments learned, gained or acquired by example, as the middle child of a hyper-dysfunctional threefold broken family, which manifest in my lonely life as parallels to my mother's last-ditch, last-chance, leftover life, as well.   

Yet, instead of still so stupidly sustaining such suffering in my life, I have in turn tended to cultivate a feverishly Faith-focused and thankful fortitude of smile, spine, spirit and psyche. 

This, I've learned or acquired, not from my weak and woebegone, miserably melancholic, mentally depraved & miscreant, degenerate mother, but rather from the countless coaches, counselors, providers, preachers, fans, friends and family who sit loudly lauding me court-side, during this furiously & ferociously fun game we call, "LIFE!"

My many loving laudators, whose encouragements, praise, counsel and commendations have rightfully and willfully replaced the disappointments of deprecation manifest by the damned near always drunken, depressed and indiscriminately desultory, dissatisfied, dreary but deadpan, stone-faced, icy, empty smiles of the mad, sad, sullen source of my genetic degeneracy (i.e., good ol' mother, MOM!!).

My many myriad advocates, supporters, defenders, patrons and providers stand tall, strong and sturdy as proud pillars of the wholly turned 'round reversal of my Fate.

Through a renewal of my Faith, a return to my roots (as opposed to my running away!), and my rightfully deserved Redemption, I've earned (as my mother would have, could have, and perhaps, still can!!) divine, sublime recompense for the determined, dutiful and devout good-doing and grasping toward greatness that I aim and am poised to achieve, through a careful, caring and conscientiously heralded sharing of my tall, tall telling tales of tempestuous turmoil and tragedy turned to triumph, after all.

These pillars of my survival and success have proven empirically, time and time again, through thoughts, words, sentiments, support, and – above all else – through past & present affection, admiration & ACTION, to be my guardians, my protectors, my heroes, my role models, my mentors, my teachers.

As I stand today so surefooted & secure in recognition of my Salvation through survival, I swear so surely to return to the origin, to the roots, of my Redemption, so that I may – God willing!! – give back to my guardian angels in gorgeous, gleaming, goliath grins of goodwill & gratitude.

I’ve joined CafeMom.com, as a thirty-something diseased, depressed, disfigured codependent; because, in spite, despite, or perhaps even because of the madly, miserable mindflux & mayhem which define the dysfunctional distance separating me from my mother, I aspire to find new friends here. 

I am looking neither for a new mother, a substitute, nor a replacement. However, I am looking for guidance from compassionate confidantes and role models, from whom I may learn how best to repair, restore, cultivate and nurture a stable, healthy, mutually beneficial, respectful and responsible, adult relationship with my own MOM – a wounded, weary woman who is oh so wanting of love; especially, from her estranged children.

For any future dialogues ON MOTHERHOOD, I will dutifully & discriminately describe the cripplingly corrupt manifestations of my own psychological frailty, social ineptitude & awkwardness, and substance abuse. A cataloging of my own many myriad imperfections, I presume, will prove them inherited and/or learned. But, from whom?

Does this question really remain altogether unanswered? If I have not at length provided a fully convincing & complete argument in favor of a DYADIC/CAUSAL/EMPIRICAL interpretation of the "Nature vs. Nurture" debate, as it relates to my life and to motherhood, then I briefly reiterate:

I argue adamantly that the utterly execrable, nefand, ne'er-do-well iniquities of my colossally corrupt character are ultimately my most reprehensible & reprobate inheritances: glaringly ungodly & grotesque gifts from my emotionally maladroit, compulsively codependent, maniacally defensive, nefariously perverse & irrationally self-repudiating mother.

While the "plentiful beatitude" of my blessedly blissful, infectiously intrepid, jovially just, fortunately fortitudinous, faithfully frank & fair, sacrosanct sense of survival, I've learned (i.e., gained or acquired) from the many "heavenly, heroic healers" who, hearts aligned in prayer, have held such a superhuman hand and played such a specially sublime role in sustaining my survival for so long, against such awful odds. THANK GOD!!

PERHAPS, some other mothers might find plausible, in my long, languorous tirade, the possibility for friendship & the turning of a page: a new leaf! For, while my tirade may have been told in a heated, contemptuous tone, I believe that therein lies loving, tender, telling TRUTH!!

PERHAPS, the love of mother & child might be restored here, starting with this still young, but no longer naive…; this still ridiculed & persecuted, but now more proud, tough-knuckled & thick-skinned…; this still mentally distorted, diseased & disfigured, but no longer depraved, dissolute, debased, degenerate, deteriorating invalid, now no longer deprived of love.

PERHAPS, this happily home-bodied, healthfully integrated & involved, ultimately indomitable and inspiring, safe, sane, sober thirty-something, solemn & blissful believer...; this no longer languishing, but still lauded lifelong learned laureate and lover of life...

PERHAPS, this “fagged-out ferocious Fog City freak show,” who is as delighted as he is grateful to have had so many successive second, third, and fourth choice chances to live again and again, may find it in himself here to restore trust and faith in family connections, in maternal instinct and love.

PERHAPS, this next chapter of my life might begin with innocently simple & patient, carefully & caringly cultivated conversations over my own compassionately p/maternal role as proud, proud papa of a vivaciously sweet, loving and affectionate two year old, gorgeous Terrier-mixed mutt, named Scruffy “TANNER” Thompson: my “PRIDE & JOY!!”  We’ll see!!

OR ELSE, my words are wasted… And, what a shame that would be for me: the marauder of one mightily mammoth & megalomaniac monologue! WINK! Like I said, “We’ll see!!” Thanks for reading… Cheers! Ciao! NAMASTE…

__________________
[1]     Wikipedia contributors, "Nature versus nurture," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Nature_versus_nurture&oldid=395464833 (accessed: November 8, 2010).
[2]     Ibid. (accessed: November 8, 2010).
[3]     learned. Dictionary.com. Dictionary.com Unabridged. Random House, Inc. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/learned (accessed: November 8, 2010).

Respectfully submitted,

Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF

Matthew D. Blanchard

San Francisco, CA USA

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[20101109T052758PST] 

Star-Spangled KITSCH, by C. BROWN (1975)

"Camp mocks bad taste..." | Dictionary.com

In short, camp mocks bad taste; kitsch exploits it. Camp arouses our sense of the ridiculous, and we respond with amused tolerance. When we see Bette Davis or Ruth Gordon, fine if sometimes flamboyant performers relax their self-discipline and over-extend their acting technique in a superfluity of ineffective gestures �— finger-twitching and hip-switching, hand-rubbing or hip-protruding — we label the sum total as camp. Mae West, whose nasally provocative delivery, eye-rolling, lip-pursing, and pelvic tics parody the conventional invitation to dalliance, is never out of control and is camp, pure and simple.... Camp was also the stock-in-trade of Carmen Miranda, whose retina-searing Technicolor® get-ups, skyscraper headdresses bearing a season's fruit harvest, clomping platform shoes and garbled English projected in a voice that could be heard on Mars, all came together beautifully in her campy personification of Exaggeration. Had we been blessed with the Brazilian Bombshell's own blazing interpretation of Joan of Arc, the grotesque, if fascinating, result would surely have been kitsch.

CURTIS F. BROWN, "Is It Kitsch or Is It Camp?"

Star-Spangled Kitsch (Universe Books, 1975)

STAR-SPANGLED KITSCH
[Universe Books, 1975]

In his essay entitled, "Is It Kitsch or Is It Camp?" from his collection of short works entitled Star-Spangled Kitsch (Universe Books, 1975), Curtis F. Brown eruditely elucidates the defining distinction(s) between that which is "KITSCH" and that which is "CAMP," all in one cohesively concise construct of written communication, saying, "In short, camp mocks bad taste; kitsch exploits it."

Brown buttresses his thesis with reinforcing remarks and observations about four infamously celebrated female film performers of the early B&W turned Technicolor® era of American cinema: Betty Davis, Ruth Gordon, Mae West and Carmen Miranda.

The "kitsch/camp" theorist discusses in a mellifluously colorful and contemporary manner the conventions of that which is most distinctly "CAMP," pointing out that the flamboyant, quizzically quixotic & chimerical (Oh! Just call it straight up as it is: QUEER!) gesticulations and glaringly gaudy "get-ups" (i.e., accouterments, accessories, costumes, clothing, etc.) of these brazenly garish gals often served as parodic personifications and pasquinade of archetypal character traits, concepts, customs, behaviors or mores.

Mae West, for example, "whose nasally provocative delivery, eye-rolling, lip-pursing, and pelvic tics parody the conventional invitation to dalliance, is never out of control and is camp, pure and simple....," writes Brown, in his deliberately descriptive and constatively conclusive manner.

These parodist-performers personify not real or fictitious characters, personalities or people, but caricature in a conspicuously comedic fashion, with flagitiously flamboyant, frivolous fervor and right raucous, rambunctious repugnance, the conventions contrived of by our own seemingly sophisticated society, thus satirized it/us on stage and screen as "CAMP."

Were the performers actually in fact meant to interpret an historical personage, character or role writ from real life, the resultant (re)presentation would be ultimately defined as "KITSCH." Brown explains this distinct concept explicitly by referencing Carmen Miranda: "Had we been blessed with the Brazilian Bombshell's own blazing interpretation of Joan of Arc, the grotesque, if fascinating, result would surely have been kitsch."

Thus, then, and therefore, Brown describes two definitively dueling depictions of parodic satire "à la burlesque" and deems the two archetypal performance styles either distinctly "CAMP" or distinctly "KITSCH" (i.e., Brown's "kitsch/camp" thesis or theory).

I highly recommend to anyone interested in the study and/or performance of parodic satire "à la burlesque" by the infamously venerated female celebrity actors of the "Old Film" era or otherwise in the dichotomically "camp/kitsch" performances of contemporary female celebrity impersonators (i.e., drag queens!!) of the "Old School," at least to link to this abstracted quotation from Curtis F. Brown's definitive discourse on the dichotomic binary between all that is "CAMP" and all that is "KITSCH."

I myself find that this quotation intrigues the mind enough to motivate the reader immediately to seek out the source-text for further reading. I myself am going straight to the library today to check out Star-Spangled Kitsch, by Curtis F. Brown, so that I might completely immerse myself in the study of this profoundly erudite performance discourse; thus, then, and therefore, to inaugurate finally my fanatically fervid, right reasonably well-directed and derived research into the art of drag performance and of female impersonators as entertainers, both historically and contemporaneously, or could be possibly even maybe more.... We'll see!!

Thanks Dictionary.com for having serendipitously set my path of discovery in the direction of this dichotomic "kitsch/camp" discourse, so that I might delve deliberately even deeper into the subject matter as it relates to the art(s) of DRAG!! I never knew nor thought that this so easily navigable virtual reference library would spur on my determined effort to educate myself so thoroughly, dutifully and delightfully, all at once...

"In short, camp mocks bad taste; kitsch exploits..." Columbia World of Quotations, Columbia University Press, 1996. 10 Aug. 2010. Dictionary.com http://quotes.dictionary.com/In_short_camp_mocks_bad_taste_kitsch_exploits.
 
Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
[20100810T094249PST]  

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"May Today There Be Peace Within..."

As many in this world stand poised foul-footed & faulty, skeptical of “so-soon-should-be” stability and drowning in the dim dark dawning of a new decade of hopes, nope & never minds, some may very well find themselves focused unflinching on the rightful remonstrance of their real, wrong, reprehensible ruination. And, others still may presume themselves victim of obviously obtrusive, abject, awful circumstance, such as so-called “calamity” or worse yet still, “catastrophe.” 

But in sharp contrast to these many multitudes of madmen who moan in misery when met with mindflux & mayhem, I myself stand poised on solid ground, garishly gleaming in the glow of great gifts of good tidings and telling tales of betterment, blessings & beatitude…”Plentiful Beatitude!”

With the arrival of the new year and the end of an old, I’ve witnessed a coalescence or convergence of some commonly, characteristically distinct threads of thought that are now together guiding me toward goodness in the graces of my Greater Power. These thoughts, these systems of reasoning, these philosophies, maxims or mores divergent to a degree in my mind until now, seem today to be bound together by one common cord – a theme best expressed in a simple statement that once seemed to me to be a clichéd convention, but which I recognize now as an almost divine truth: “Faith without works was dead.”

Those fateful words are bracketed and emboldened by the glimmer of graphite marks carved onto page fourteen of the most recent addition to my fledgling “Religion & Recovery” library. This is the Fourth Edition of the Big Book, the Basic Text of Alcoholics Anonymous, the hardcover book reads on its glossy paper jacket.

During the last week and a half, I have made an enthusiastic effort specially to celebrate in proper fashion the blessed spirit of the Holiday Season, having invited many a friend into my home for a festive dinner party and the presentation of miniature stockings stuffed with candy and perfectly well-chosen and appropriate gifts.  

May I boast a bit? Permit me, please! I must say, the satisfaction and appreciation expressed by my guests tells me that I am quite the host and played well the part of not-so-secret Santa.

I am confident that each of the close friends I invited into my home for the holiday were tenderly touched by my gesture of gregarious generosity and hospitality, and that they are indeed grateful.  But more importantly, I am grateful. Extremely grateful! And I’d like to believe that this my guests would most gladly appreciate to know.  

I wish I would have remembered to document the occasions in photos, but I forgot to borrow the digital camera from my neighbor, who was in fact a guest at both events. The two resoundingly intimate and joyful dinner parties I hosted for the holiday were quite the success and a perfect way to end the decade.

While I did nothing of significance to celebrate the actual eve of the new decade, I did however commit the first day of 2010 (in its entirety) to a very significant and commemorative exercise, introducing myself finally to the canonical tome of Twelve Step literature that my sponsor has been pressing upon me to read.  I read from the preface to the final pages of the first chapter of the Big Book, and scribbled copious notes into my recovery journal from them.

In irregular, sporadic intervals I would break from reading and return to the computer to check email or to chat it up with buddies online.  To one particular “buddy,” I ended up elucidating extemporaneously an elaborate plan in which I expressed an interest to involve myself.  

My intention, as I described to my friend this morning and inspired by the seeming convergence or coalescence of certain variant themes on Religion & Recovery in my life at the present moment, is to reinvigorate my efforts to post regularly to my blog during the new year and to coordinate my spiritual and sobriety work into thoughtful written ruminations on these convergent themes.

Coincidentally, this morning a striking, peculiar, and poignant convergence of these themes manifest itself in my email inbox, with a blessing sent from my loyal, loving chaplain, Reverend Father Stephen Barlett-Ré [+]:

May today there be peace within.
May you trust your Higher Power that you
Are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities
That you are born of Faith.
May you use those gifts what you have received,
And pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing
That you are a child of God.
May Thy presence settle in thy bones,
And allow your soul the freedom to
Sing, dance, praise and love.
     Saint Teresa de Ávila (1515-1582)

This blessing is in absolute accordance with the themes common to both the preaching of my pious priest and the very relevant first chapter of the Big Book: “Bill’s Story” (pp.1-16).  The idea that “Faith without works [is] dead” resonates so powerfully with me in this moment of convergence that I must leave my own indelible mark on both the ecclesiastics learnt from my chaplain and the parochial piety of the “Program,” through rumination, reasoning and a reworking of this wide-eyed wisdom.

But, I’ve no talent in comparative literary analysis; or at least, I’ve not the time and energy to commit to such a studious examination of these separate texts and teachings.  I will however simply cite some single passages that cohere conveniently to this wisdom, and courageously collect my thoughts around the words I find most enlightened, revealing and inspirational.

I’ve already presented the text of the blessing of Saint Teresa de Ávila above, but I’d like to draw my readers’ attention (as mine was so drawn) to the specific sentiment similar to the revelatory “Faith” statements of Big Book Bill.  As the blessing rejoices, “May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you,” so Bill’s monstrance of a similar theme is told in his eloquent narrative, as such:

These were revolutionary and drastic proposals, but the moment I fully accepted them, the effect was electric. There was a sense of victory, followed by such a peace and serenity as I had never known. There was utter confidence. I felt lifted up, as though the great clean wind of a mountain top blew through and through. God comes to most men gradually, but His impact on me was sudden and profound

…the thought came [to me] that there were thousands of hopeless alcoholics who might be glad to have what had been so freely given me. Perhaps I could help some o them. They in turn might work with others.

My friend had emphasized the absolute necessity of demonstrating these principles in all my affairs. Particularly was it imperative to work with others as he had worked with me. Faith without works was dead, he said. And how appallingly true for the alcoholic! For if an alcoholic failed to perfect and enlarge his spiritual life through work and self-sacrifice for others, he could not survive the certain trials and low spots ahead. If he did not work, he would surely drink again, and if he drank, he would surely die. Then faith would be dead indeed. With us it is just like that.

(Alcoholics Anonymous, Fourth Edition; pp.14-15)

Clearly this idea of “self-sacrifice for others” is the central paradigm of all that I have learnt from my priest, my sponsor, my program and “in the rooms” during the past six months of my sustained and assured sobriety. Reverend Father Stephen often preaches to me that the very real possibility of divine Salvation lies solely in the manifestation of our Faith through an imparting of that faith onto others and through a retelling, a sharing of the glory and love of God. 

In understanding the significance of these words and of the convergence of this common unifying thematic thread of wisdom in Faith, I find myself more readily willing to comply with the urgings and pleas of my sponsor to demonstrate my commitment to the Program through sustained, accountable action and service.

After the cycle of another six months of sobriety, I will soon be allowed to share my story (my “gifts”) in the Rooms, and I eagerly anticipate the opportunity I’ll have received to impact profoundly the lives and perspectives of others through an expression of my faith, love and trust in my Higher Power.  I have a story of such spiritual significance to share!!

And, I imagine that this exercise in rumination, reasoning and rewording of wisdom here and now will greatly influence the shape, structure and spirit of my message to others when the time comes for me to share my story.  I may even use the blessing by Saint Teresa as the prayer of my choosing to adjourn the meetings during which I eventually will share. God willing! And for now, Godspeed!

Respectfully submitted,
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA USA
[2010.01.01@21:34PST]

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KINDNESS IN WORDS CREATES CONFIDENCE.
KINDNESS IN THINKING CREATES THE PROFOUND.
KINDNESS IN GIVING CREATES LOVE.
— Tao Te Ching

CONTENTMENT IS NOT THE FULFILLMENT

OF WHAT YOU WANT, BUT THE REALIZATION 

OF HOW MUCH YOU ALREADY HAVE.
— Anonymous

LIFE ISN’T ABOUT FINDING YOURSELF;
LIFE IS ABOUT CREATING YOURSELF.
— Anonymous

God's GRACE & GRATITUDE... My "Unintended Teachers!"

As was my practice after last week's FERGUSON PLACE Client Council presentation of our thoughts on "FUN!," I now present my written response to the most recent "Theme o'da Week:" GRATITUDE!

I began the process of expressing my thoughts on this hefty, weighty word as I would have started any writing practice in my journal: very off the cusp & spontaneously. My initial impulse was positive: to somehow relate my own personal gratitude directly to God's GRACE, as it is within the scope and grandeur of his love that I survive. Above all, I am grateful to be alive!! And, I only have The Lord My God to thank for that.

But somehow, the writing exercise turned into a rather pompous expression of my arrogance and self-importance as such relates to my historically weak and unstable relationship with and impression of my parents (all four of them, in fact!).


In the original opening to my essay on gratitude, which is presented in the closing of this particular post, I bereaved and berated my parents & guardians for what I presumed to be their unjustifiably "human imperfections and sin," while arguing that I was & still am, in fact, closer to God "in virtue & in practice," because of all the torment and admonishments I fell victim to as a closeted queer youth.

This was surely the wrong way to approach this exercise of contemplation, introspection and self-expression. It was indeed oxymoronic and largely hypocritical for me to begin to reveal my thoughts on "GRATITUDE" by holding in and expressing outward such stolid, stubborn, senseless resentment toward those three or four people who raised me. I'm a decent person; although, I have experienced immense suffering. But still, my parents must have done as best they could, because I turned out pretty well; I think.

So, that said... Allow me to present to my readers the text on GRATITUDE that I wrote for and presented to the clients & staff at FERGUSON PLACE of Baker Places, Inc. The "YOU" that I mention repeatedly in this essay refers to all the members of my Recovery Community: past, present & future. May they all know how grateful I am for their support, acceptance and understanding!! Read on...

As an young, impressionable adolescent or from very early on in my childhood even, I would often cry myself to sleep in anger & resentment, beseeching the Lord my God to save me from my suffering or simply screaming, "SCREW YOU!" when all I heard from him was silence.

As an adult, more conscious & aware of my myriad of divine virtues & blessings, I often find myself thanking God for all the goodness... the greatness, that he has brought into my life, even despite the immense tragedies I have lived through as a gay, HIV/AIDS+, drug dependent and miserably isolated twenty-something in San Francisco.

Now, at my first glimpse of growth, change, progress, blessings & beatitude, I immediately express my gratitute to the the Lord God through prayer & meditation. Today, I define my gratitude in practice, prayer & study under my spiritual guide in Faith: my chaplain—my priest—who happens to be wise enough and so secure in his identity & in his human nature that he graciously invites challenges & arguments contrary to the teachings he preaches in homily. We dialogue on Faith, and debate is welcome, but together, in union, we praise God; we thank God, and we worship God.


I am grateful for his presence and for the presence of so many other "unintended teachers" in my life, from whom I learn more about myself, about my addiction, and about my path toward Salvation, Enlightenment and toward the fulfillment of my true potential every waking day.

The unintended, unsuspecting teachers in my life are numerous; in fact, they are so numerous that I could never possibly name them all at once. Some are friends. Some are family. Some are providers. Some are in this room. And, some even are total strangers. They...NO! YOU. You all teach me, often through no fault or intention of your own, how NOT to live and how BEST to live.

That is to say... In the best of circumstances or by the random chance of luck, some anonymous but mightily virtuous soul will, in simple acts of «politesse,» righteousness, concern, sympathy, compassion or even in strong solemn silent stillness when faced with his own great trepidation or tribulation—poised solid, upright in unrelenting tenacity & perseverance, demonstrate to me how to live & act like him: in virtue, in «noblesse d'esprit,» in the GRACE of GOD...

I am grateful to be part of the Recovery Community, for it is within the reach of its embrace that I have found strangers who've become teachers, who've become friends or even as close as family. I am grateful to have such a patient, caring, empathetic sponsor! I am grateful to have each of you, the clients & staff of FERGUSON PLACE, in my life for all your amazing virtues and for having accepted me so lovingly and without question or hesitation.

It is as part of this community that I am constantly able & welcome (if not entirely expected!) to gain new perspectives on my life and on my addiction, on my strengths & potential, and on my deficits, as well. Thanks to these new relationships which I have cultivated in the last 65 days (or even since my illness & injury in 2007), I have been able to discover my many virtues. Or, should I say, "RE-DISCOVER...?"'

Thanks to all of you, I have been able to believe in myself again, and to trust in myself and in others anew. Thank you a thousand times; thank you!!


Once upon a time, a quarter-life ago, I relied on my faith in God and on my faith in God's faith in & love for me, to strengthen and sustain my own faith in myself. Today, I can't say that I haven't asked the difficult questions: the quandaries & conundrums, the "whys & wherefores" of my immense suffering—"How could God have let this happen to me?" OR "What did I do to deserve this misery & misfortune?"

But today, I can say that I am grateful not to have had these questions answered. Not knowing, not constantly demanding a rational reason for all things wrong in my life and wrong in the world, mitigates my doubt in a higher power and reinforces my faith—FULL CIRCLE! For that, I am grateful...

The morning after I read this essay to the residents of FERGUSON PLACE at our Client Council Meeting, I offered to escort an impassioned, progressive, politico-blogger (a recovering addict & one of my 4 roommates!) to a treatment appointment, and while we were on the bus headed to the same agency for two different reasons, he remarked on his impressions of my writing style.

First, he asked what I studied at university, so I told him: French Literature & Theatre Arts. And he just chuckled and said, "Yeah, I figured you were into something like that. You're writing style is incredible; it's almost like poetic prose." I synopsize some, but you get the gist, right?

He was paying me a compliment, so I thanked him and continued to listen to him rant vivaciously about all the bullshit comments he gets from whacked-out Republicans on his blog postings, amongst others. I don't use his exact words here, so no quotation marks; but, you catch the drift, right? HEHEHE. He's a good guy. His verve and passion is refreshing, and I appreciated his feedback. What he had to say was nice to hear. YET....

Even after being complimented in person, directly, on my writing style and on what I had to say, I feel obliged to demonstrate the prevalent, preposterous weaknesses of my written essays by presenting now the original introduction to my thoughts on GRATITUDE, which I previously mentioned at the start of this post. Here's a sample of my serious preoccupation with self-aggrandizement... Take it for what it's worth: a load of bologna!! Here goes...

As a young, impressionable adolescent or from very early on in my childhood even, I was always ever so intrigued & impassioned by the traditions of my Faith. Even when i was forced to battle the demons & devastation of my own deviant sexuality that seemed forced upon me by my heartless, insensitive peers, I found solace in the timeless practices of my religion: prayer, confession, genuflection, the Sign Of The Cross, etc.

My mother, father & stepfather (even his next wife!), who were by no means stalwart exemplars of true Catholic virtue, would still shuffle me off to church every Sunday in obedience of the saintly stricture of the "Good Catholic Family." But, there was always such an unconscionable opposition between their very human imperfections & sin and the virtuous path preached to me so often by priests.

So much so that i knew from a very young age that my parents' behaviors, lifestyles, ideas & perspectives were more often than not always misguided, ignorant, prejudiced and distant from & dismayed by the true potential of their own earthly Salvation. I, being the selfless victim of constant torment & ridicule, admonitions & condemnations for my queerness, seemed, on the other hand, closer to Christ in virtue & in practice.

However, i must be honest here and admit without shame or regret my own imperfections. YES! During the most trying times in my life: periods of isolation, abandonment, illness, pain, suffering and doubt, which seem to repeat cyclically in perpetuum for me every odd number of years, I often found myself questioning God's love for me & questioning the motives behind the many manifestations of torment & tribulation I've so often suffered through in my life.

I'll leave you with that to ponder, hoping that you will not be encouraged by this pithy, petty, perturbed state of mind to think that I am any less of a person for it. Doubt is a devious, disgusting reality of Human Nature. Questions are born of FREE WILL—from that first bite of fruit off the Tree of Knowledge.

I am a faithful, humble servant of the Lord, grateful to be alive and blessed so immensely and in so many unique ways. Just as my "unintended teachers" are numerous in my life, so are my Guardian Angels!!


But, trust me! I don't take them for granted. I'm pretty sure that I'm on my last life here... God willing! And, I'm committed to doing and making the best with it in the end, as I intend to demonstrate with this public account of my life's story day by day.

Winston Churchill once said, "If you ever find yourself in Hell, just keep going!" How profound a statement!! I've heard it four times from four different people in two days. That must mean something special! What do you think? LMK. K? Tootles for now! Godspeed...

BTW, I hope to see some of you at my birthday party tomorrow!! Don't forget! I'm a bitch to buy for, for I expect only the best, most sentimental and touching gifts of...YES! GRATITUDE... and good fortune! Keep 'em coming! Thanx y'all...

Gratefully yours, :P
Matt(e)o | QHereKidSF
Matthew D. Blanchard
San Francisco, CA 94109-7821
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