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after dying god informs you that hell is a myth, and “everyone sins, its ok”. instead the dead are sorted into six “houses of heaven” based on the sins they chose.

wpsstories

We arrived first at the House of Lust. “House” is a misleading term. It was more of a camp, spread over acres and acres of lush forest. There was a white sandy beach (nude, of course) full of copulating couples. There were little cabins sprinkled all along the path, from which orgasmic moans regularly came belting out. Men with six pack abs and women with perky breasts strolled by without even noticing me and God. They only had eyes for each other, tickling and pinching each other with flirtatious giggles.

“What do you think?” God asked as we passed a nineteen-way taking place in a pool of champagne. Little cherubs flitted overhead armed with mops and cleaning supplies, thankfully. “Lust is our most popular sin.” I eyed the supermodel-like figures of a couple passing nearby, and could easily see why. “You can look however you want. Hell, you can be whatever gender you want. No fetish is too taboo, and no desire can be denied here.”

It was quite tempting, but I wasn’t ready to make a permanent decision here. “Let’s see the others,” I told God.

We carried on to Greed. We passed rows and rows of mansions, each more opulent than the next. Some of them were so large that they would have had enough bed rooms to fit my entire hometown. And so many different styles: one second, we were in a beautiful French vineyard in front of a gorgeous chateau with the Alps in the background. The next second, a warm tropical beach with a modern mansion atop breathtaking cliffs. After that, a ski chalet in Colorado with a roaring fire in a hearth large enough to fit an ox. Each one had various Italian sports cars and Rolls Royces parked in front, with the occasional smattering of boats, helicopters, etc.

“Any material desire you ever wanted,” God explained. “Your own world, where you can have everything. You want the Hope Diamond? You can fly to Washington DC in your own solid gold helicopter and buy it from the Smithsonian. Hell, you can just buy the Smithsonian.”

Also tempting, but I decided to keep looking.

Gluttony was next up. Tables and tables of the very finest foods: beautiful steaks cooked medium rare; butter-poached lobster tail; fresh oysters on a half shell; exotic wines in dusty bottles that had been hiding in the cellars of the world’s finest restaurants. Everyone had a glass of champagne in hand and simply lounged on couches and chairs near the tables, eating endlessly. As soon as the inhabitants took a bite, the food just instantly came back. My mouth watered even watching them.

“In every other House, the food is practically sawdust compared to Gluttony,” God explained. “You haven’t truly experienced heaven until you’ve been to Gluttony.”

I shook my head, and we kept moving.

Sloth was as you’d expect. An endless sea of the softest mattresses, stacked with cushions and pillows that made the story of the princess and the pea seem minimalist. Little angels visited each resident, giving them massages that made them all melt into their blankets.

Wrath was… well, a lot like what I’d expect Hell to be like. Fire, brimstone, whips, torture.. you know, the works. Except here, you weren’t the one being tortured. Every enemy you’d ever made in your real life was now under your thumb. “Lots of people choose their fathers,” God explained. “Lots of grudges against parents in general, you know. But you’re not limited to that. Someone beat you out for a big promotion back on Earth? Take your pound of flesh here.”

Then we arrived at Envy. It looked… well, a lot like home.

“Go on in,” God said, gesturing toward the door. I turned the knob and walked in… and found Emily waiting inside. She ran forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted a kiss right on my lips. “Welcome home, honey.”

I looked back toward God. “Oh, don’t be coy,” he said. “You have no secrets from me. We all know that you were in love with your best friend’s wife.” She didn’t seem to hear him at all; she went back into the hall. “We all know that you just settled for your own wife while secretly pining after her. Well, this is your chance to live happily ever after.”

I peered into the kitchen. Emily was baking something, wearing nothing but an apron. Her curly black hair fell softly over her shoulder as she whisked ingredients. She turned back, noticed I was observing her, and an enthusiastic smile spread across her face.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” God whispered in my ear.

I wanted to take it. God damn did I want to take it. But I shook my head.

God seemed puzzled. “You need to make a decision,” he told me.

“I haven’t seen Pride yet.”

He scoffed. “No one ever wants Pride, trust me.”

“Well, I want to see it.”

_________________________

Pride was boring. Just a row of workbenches in a bare white room.

“I don’t get it,” I told God.

“Yeah, no one does,” he answered. “That’s why no one ever chooses it. Doesn’t cavorting in Lust sound better than sitting here building little trinkets for the rest of eternity? Wouldn’t you rather gorge yourself in Gluttony? Or spend time with Emily in Envy?”

I considered the options again. “I pick Pride,” I finally told him.

He narrowed his eyes. “What? Look at it!” He gestured around the room again. There wasn’t much to look at. “Why would you choose this for the rest of time?”

“Because you don’t want me to pick it,” I told him. If he was really God, he’d know what a contrarian I can be. And I knew he was hiding something, trying to pretend like Pride didn’t exist. There was something special about it.

God scowled back. “Fine.” He led me over to one of the workbenches. In the center, there was a black space. A blank, empty void that went on forever. “Here’s your universe,” he said. “You’ve got seven days to get started.” He took his seat at the bench next to me and went back to tinkering in his own world. After a long pause, he finally spoke again: “You know, it might be nice for me to actually have some company for once.”

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FUCKING I MEAN.

IT’S LIKE 7AM AND I LOVE GONNA REBLOG SO I CAN READ THIS SHIT AGAIN

kevinskeller

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I’m gonna go off on this scene for a hot second, because this doesn’t get nearly as much attention as the talk with his mom and honestly this one hit me harder. So I’m gonna talk about why this scene is so fucking important to me.

The first line. Right out of the gate. “How long have you known?” Not, “how long have you been…you know…”, “how long have you known.” This is coming from a character we have seen (unintentionally, but still) commit homophobic microaggressions on screen at least twice now with many more implied, that difference is important.

Then when Simon answers, his response emphasizes the time they spent together when he didn’t know (Four years eating dinner together). I was sure, I was so sure his next line was going to be “why didn’t you tell me”. Because that’s how it goes right? The onus is always on the queer person, it’s always down to us. But that’s not what he says. He says “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have missed it.”

I don’t think I can put into words what hearing an apology in that moment did to me. I really can’t, I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing for a second. And then he says “All those stupid jokes…”

He is taking responsibility for his actions. He is acknowledging that he was wrong and he is apologizing for the hurt he, however unknowingly, caused his son. This is so rare. Because the key here is, not only is this a father-son relationship, which is always more difficult because men in our society have been conditioned to never be “touchy-feely”, it’s also a parent-child relationship.

Simon is still a teenager. His father has spent 17 years being the one responsible for Simon’s care; at this point the parent is the one in the equation where the majority of power still sits. For a parent to acknowledge to a child who is still not fully an adult that they were wrong, especially when it’s a father when men are conditioned to never give ground or “show weakness” over things like this, just. It doesn’t happen.

And even when Simon gives him an out he refuses to take it. Then he makes sure Simon knows that he is loved unconditionally, and reinforces it with physical affection. And it’s not a Manly Shoulder Pat either, this is a proper full-body hug followed by a kiss on the cheek.

And after a moment of awkwardness, he actively reaches out and shows interest in engaging in the queer aspect of Simon’s life by offering to sign up to Grindr together. He’s gotten it wrong (in the most adorably dad way possible), but the point is he made the effort. He didn’t just leave it at letting Simon know he loves him, he recognized that this is an on-going presence in his child’s life and he commits to continuously being involved with and acknowledging this aspect of his son.

I am someone who has Simon’s life. I am from an upper-middle class white family with two liberal straight parents who were high school sweethearts, and I have one younger sibling. My first car was even a used Subaru station wagon, I could not make this up. This is the moment I wish I could have with my parents.

They knew/suspected I was queer for years before I finally came out to them, but they didn’t know what to do with asexuality. They were fully prepared for me to be a lesbian and I still managed to blindside them. It was completely unexpected and they hadn’t heard of it so they didn’t know what to do about it. And we are the pinnacle of a WASP stereotype, so all of us suck at talking about our feelings. So while my parents never rejected me, they never tried to “fix” me, and they don’t really drop hints about me “settling down one day”, they also never talk about it with me. I assume because they don’t know how to and they don’t want to misstep.

We will have entire conversations about queer issues with no acknowledgement whatsoever that I am part of the group that issue pertains to. They have never tried to talk to me about what asexuality is, asked me to explain it, or asked about how to be involved in that aspect of my life. Which is unusual for them, both have always taken an active interest in both of their children’s activities. And there’s only so many times I can be the one to talk about the elephant in the room because it’s fucking exhausting.

So yeah. This scene, this moment, hit me like a semi truck. Because god do I want that in my life.

thegreenpea

I’m crying

feminismandmedia

I really loved this scene because it wasn’t his dad saying “how long have you been lying to me” but instead “how long have I been hurting you.”

Too often queer people are treated as if we lied or tricked people while we were in the closet, so this scene meant so much to me.

cobblepottery

I saw Cats last night and I still haven’t recovered. Here is a play-by-play of my experience

The movie begins. The audience is rife with anticipatory giggles. Some lady in the back row loudly says “can we be quiet now, please? let us watch the movie in silence” in a displeased Russian accent.

We will inevitably disappoint her

In the first 5 minutes, while crying with laughter, I decide this movie is actually about a human who gets genetically engineered into a cat and is exiled to a furrykin community.

5 minutes after that, I think about how good a movie this would be if it was hand-drawn animation and not CGI people-cats, and I become absolutely furious

Mice and cockroaches have human faces and bodies. The audience is screaming.

This film comes VERY close to having a dog on screen. I start sweating in dread of what it might look like. The dog is never shown.

None of the humor is funny

During the slow parts I start to imagine other celebrities in full cat CGI to amuse myself

Cat Idris Elba sexily Thanos-snaps another cat out of existence. Audible confusion ripples through the audience.

The cats do some extremely horny body work involving their tails. The audience is making disgusted noises. Several people yelp “oh NO” very loudly

At the end of a song, the throng of cats start “applauding” by slapping their hands on the ground and saying “meowmeowmeowmeowmeow”. This instigates a fight-or-flight response in me so strong that I nearly bolt out of the theatre.

During an awkward silence the camera cuts to a cat making a “yikes” kind of grimace and the whole theatre laughs because that is the exact emotion we are all feeling

A cat helicopters into the ceiling and is vaporized by cat Idris Elba. A man in the audience yells “GOTTEM!!” at the top of his lungs

Most cats are naked but somehow cat Idris Elba manages to be far more naked than all of them. The audience is screaming, again

Memoriiiiiiies. All alone in the moonliiiiiiight. “Please,” begs the Russian lady in the back of the theatre, sounding defeated, “don’t laugh. Not now.”

The actor who plays the main character gray cat who never gets a song explaining who he is (I am told he is Munkustrap) is DEAD SERIOUS about this role. He is a PROFESSIONAL. He is feeling being a cat so hard. Look at his face at literally any point (but especially during the final epilogue song) and I guarantee he will be having an intensely invested serious face journey. His shoulders must be aching from carrying this entire film.

110 minutes later, or maybe years: the credits roll. The audience cheers raucously. We exit the theatre in a daze. One of my friends goes home with a high fever. 10/10