The tale of Huckleberry Nipple and the ipod

I turned thirty the other week, an event I had to wait awhile for compared to other Librans (but then I don't mind waiting my turn, as life has a certain chronological fairness to it). I embrace entering a new age group on questionnaires and apropos the ravages of time, my girlfriend loves my stray grey hairs- which become less deserving of the adjective premature as I age. Other than a few follicular clues and a reliance on Body Shop cocoa butter moisturiser, my Gregorian leap in maturity has dated me in only one notable respect: The inexorable slide into cliché has begun already.

An ironic topic to write about or discuss in any form- it becomes a form of self-fulfilling prophecy, and I start sounding like a traveler's phrase book. This can of course be passed off hopefully as an ironic double bluff: this is what I intend to do until normal service is resumed.

Even on the "big day", I found myself tossing (the cruder British connotations of this word are apt) out such bon mots as "to think what they can do with technology nowadays" (in response to a beloved little ipod from my lover). OK, two things: firstly, this is not my syntax: a linguistically sensititive soul, I can often detect the hyperbole of those relating a tall tale and misattributing quotes when the syntax is wildly out of sync. I just don't talk like that, or rather I didn't. Secondly, "nowadays" makes me sound like a Huckleberry Finnn character. In fact, in the gender confused swamp of my youth, I always wanted to be Huckleberry, before belated puberty ironically confirmed my androgenous look.

In the same vein, in my newfound state (it makes it sound like I've just found a country, but then I have entered a whole new psychological territory), I have taken to being nostalgic, and telling tales of the past with a golden hue as if groping for some far off Fantasia. In fact, my Huckleberry childhood identity brings to mind a true adventure my beloved and I had when we lived on a bohemian boat moored to an island (cue anecdote fondly refondled)...Once upon a time, one day, we set off, down the river upon which we lived, in a small Victorian raft with planks of wood for paddles. The sun beat down on our heads, water snakes spiraled by, "yours truly" accidentally trod a plank with protruding nail into the base of the raft and then counter-intuitively pulled it out. (The effect is reminiscent of the parable of the c/rudley titled "finger in the dyke"). Well, this fateful day as we padelled along with water rising around our ankles, packets of cigarettes swept away, and the delirious euphoric confusion of sunstroke...we met our alter-egos, namely Huckleberry Nipple and Breast Sawyer.

And so, I shall desist from such digressions and recollections, and "yours truly" is "signing off" to continue to boldly go where no man has gone before.

Pink perspective: left-leaning lesbian

As a liberal, left-leaning lesbian I see the world through glasses that have a definite pink hue to them. By this, do not infer that I am a Polyanna-like eternal optimist, far from it. A Libranesque reality-defying balancing act of cynicism and realism colours my vew of the world. That, and of course my innate tendency to see things with a gay slant at times: a bent perspective if you will.

In these anti-ethnocentric times, for me to be reduced to mere functions of my demography is, well, downright belittling in the literal sense of the world. But then, need that make it any less true? My argument is that the counterpart to this, the prevalent heterosexist view needs redressing somewhat.

Meaningful cultural references that resonate for me are those that have a sapphic spin to them. I spend a great deal of time seeking gay (specifically lesbian) culture- film, music, TV shows and soforth. When Alanis Morisette sang the lines, "meeting the man of my dreams, and then meeting his beautiful wife" in the aptly titled Ironic, I smiled a wry smile while a straight friend argued that my homocentric perspective led me to misinterpret the lyrics. (The famously bisexual singer has since confirmed the deliberate ambiguity of the line, releasing yours truly from the hook). Could this imply that it is my straighter brethren who cannot shift their stance to admit other possibilities- so acustomed are they to everything being hetero, or simply that people of course will see the world form where they are standing first, and other perspectives second.

So for now, I'll keep my pink-specs right where they are. This is no doubt due to my inherent inability to appreciate the opposite of the species in "that" way, and frank love of same-sex sex and love. While still no natural optimist, I wouldn't change my position for all the world.