IS IT GAY TO WASH YOURSELF

There has been a growing conversation about personal hygiene. Brought to the forefront by the pandemic, people have revealed things about their washing habits that no one had known before.

Including–and most especially–the fact that a lot of people don’t feel they need to wash from the belly button down. Because the shower water will trickle down and clean things with no added attention necessary.

So…

Yeah. People have had a lot of thoughts about the non-washing of other people, and the non-washing of themselves and the reasons why.

Because it seems like everyone simply must explain the reason why they don’t wash or why they don’t wash particular parts of their bodies.

I attempted to stay out of the conversation, but it has crossed my timeline several times. And thus has had a chance to sink into my brain.

And I can stay silent no longer.

Not when I’ve seen multiple people express the sentiment that they’re worried washing their own bodies will make them gay.

You heard that correctly.

Somewhere out there, parents are teaching their children to not wash themselves because it will make them gay.

And people live that life. Not washing themselves for fear that it will make them gay.

That’s one of the saddest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

Because at it’s core, it’s not a fear of seeing something, feeling something, and having some great deviltry enter a person’s mind from the outside.

It’s children being taught to fear themselves.

Instead of morals and commonsense knowledge, they are being filled with tiny terrors and imaginary devils that are going to turn them into something monstrous and weird.

And when they go out into the world, and they’re unable to connect with the people around them, they think "That’s the Devil in them. They recognize my goodness, my righteousness, and that’s why they don’t want anything to do with me."

And they go to their church, and the church people accept them as they are, and they don’t realize that the church people are simply being nice by not speaking their real thoughts. Because "everyone is accepted at church" is part of the community that is organized religion.

Meanwhile, the true overarching problems are not being addressed. And if hygiene is 90% of the reason why someone can’t find companionship…

The words need to be said:

No. Washing your own ass DOES NOT make you gay.

It is simply basic hygiene.

Sexual attraction toward those of the opposite gender is natural. Sexual attraction toward those of the same gender is natural. Sexual curiosity toward those of any gender is natural.

Non-sexual attraction toward others is natural as well. That’s where you want to be someone’s friend. Or you want someone to want to be your friend. Or you admire the look and attitude of another person and wish you could be like that. And it might come across as you having a crush, but really you are simply nervous because you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone that you admire.

Having feelings is natural.

They’re just sometimes really hard to deal with.

So I can’t imagine always carrying such a terrible amount of fear with me every day AS WELL AS THE REGULAR FEARS that come with the human condition.

Because fear is good. Fear let’s you know when a situation is suspicious. Fear is your mind reminding you that your body is breakable and you should do your best to protect it from damage. Fear gives you something to overcome.

But fear should not be all that a person is.

Fear should not curtail every bit of a person’s happiness. Especially if it’s fear impressed on you by someone else’s worry about your sexuality.

Because people discover their sexuality, which means it’s already the way it is.

Someone else trying to move the points on the map doesn’t take away the destination. It just makes it harder for a person to find it.

So no. Washing your own ass does not make you gay.

It just means you don’t smell like shit.

Pax,
~Harper Kingsley

I have come to the realization today that I am not doing enough marketing.

As you know, I’m not super into the idea of hardcore capitalism. Which makes pushing my own PR hard for me, as I get this sense of almost religious guilt.

How can I do something if it makes me feel so bad inside?

As if I was stealing, or peeping into windows. Some hard to catch but still a crime-crime.

But I have to do some marketing. Otherwise, nobody’s ever going to find my various endeavors, are they? My stuff is going to sit out there like a dead fish, and when the technophobocalypse happens–The Rise of the Luddites!–my stuff will be wiped away with the data purges.

And maybe someone in the far off future will find a single copy of one of my books…. book 4 in a 12 part series.

The more people with my stories loaded on their Kindles, the more likelier my stuff will somehow still be out there. Hopefully in a still readable format.

Anyways…

Patreon: HarperKingsley – https://patreon.com/HarperKingsley
Ko-Fi: HarperWCK – https://ko-fi.com/HarperWCK
Twitter: HarperKingsley0 – https://twitter.com/harperkingsley0
Itch-Io: HarperKingsley – https://harperkingsley.itch.io/

Plus, I always appreciate cash money, so…

Paypal: HarperKingsley – paypal.me/HarperKingsley

And you know, any money I get basically translates into more posts for EVERYONE. Because I know you’re out there. Because you’re helping to pay for my site hosting.

And maybe someday, after a terrible occurrence, you won’t have access to anything more than the Internet. And you can use the Search function on my blog to find a free story you liked and enjoyed. And it will be waiting there for you, like an old friend. A comfort in terrible times.

And of course, there’s always my books themselves…

Smashwords: HarperKingsley – https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/HarperKingsley
Amazon: Harper Kingsley – https://www.amazon.com/Harper-Kingsley/e/B0054ICGF0

I’m signed up for the wider distribution program, so you can look for me at Barnes & Noble, Walmart, and all those other stores.

And, you know, you could always request my books through your public library.

They can’t say it’s too expensive either, because my ebooks are available FREE to libraries through Smashwords.

Anyways, I’m cooking food… So, laters!

Looks like Twitter is currently down.

I thought I’d gotten in trouble and been suspended or something, but the whole site is down.

I hope the data is secure. That this is just some kind of DDoS attack.

EDIT: My Twitter feed is still showing up in my Jetpack Twitter feed. So posts are being made.

If Twitter is hacked, can “they” get to my site through the Jetpack and/or WordPress modules?

Pax,
~Harper Kingsley

It’s sad. One of the quail died.

It looks like a rat gnawed its way in through the top of the cage and got her while she was sleeping.

Unfortunately, it was the female that was killed, as if it was the male I could have moved her to the other cage. As it is, this poor guy is sitting in a corner all alone, and he seems really traumatized. (He must have spent all night next to her body because he only ran to the corner once I took her away.)

The two of them have been together since they left the chick cage. They really were like an old married couple out there, cuddling together and with him hopping around her protectively whenever I got close.

Now he’s alone.

I feel really sad for him.

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There’s always too many male quail.

You only need one to keep a flock happy (the ladies feel secure with a male around), but it always seems like the females are getting themselves killed off.

I think it has to do with how entirely docile they are.

Domesticated quail are really tame as long as you don’t startle them. (Coturnix; button quail are more novelty than anything else.)

If you approach them on the level–don’t loom!–they will quickly settle and you can reach right in amongst them. They don’t even mind having their bodies gently nudged out of the way and will just walk around your hand to keep getting at whatever it is they want.

They aren’t naturally full of salmonella like chickens are. BUT you can accidentally introduce salmonella into your flock by feeding them uncooked chicken eggshells or having their cages too close to where you house chickens.

I DON’T COMPOST UNCOOKED CHICKEN EGGSHELL because of the possibility of cross-contamination to wild birds. That whole “Salmonella outbreak amongst wild birds”-thing is likely tied to someone composting a bunch of chicken waste, or going “I’ll let the wild birds have the leftover food from my chickens” and not realizing that those birds would come into contact with salmonella and be able to spread it to other wild birds.

I don’t think it’s killing the wild birds. But when they congregate at a backyard feeder, they can infect each other, and then they spread it through other feeders into a big problem. Because now there’s a bunch of salmonella in your yard, and if YOU don’t wash your hands you can get very sick. Same with animals eating those wild birds or drinking water where they’ve been.

So if I’m going to compost uncooked chicken eggshells, I might boil them real quick or bake them to kill the bacteria.

Because while it’s not like I’m throwing a bunch of raw eggs into my pile, even just a little salmonella can spread and contaminate other things.

And curious little birds will get into anything and try to dig around. So it’s better to be safe than sorry.

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Anyways. I’m sad over the loss of my bird. And I feel a little mad for thinking “If it had been you instead of her”-about him, because he can’t help it that he’s male and can’t be put into the other cage. And it’s not anger toward him, it’s anger at the situation, where he’s likely to spend the rest of his life in a big cage by himself because I only have three birds right now, counting him.

If there were more females, I would pop at least one into his cage. But there’s not.

Because somehow or other (bad planning, smart rats, our cat Lemon’s feral mother and brother), I ended up with way more males than females. And now they’ve been whittled down to just three birds.

And that’s so sad to me. And frustrating. And heartbreaking. And I don’t know what I’m going to do when it’s just one lonely bird looking at me. Asking “Why?”