Too many people put off the hard, important, scary things that could change their lives forever. Don't be one of those people. Don't find yourself five years from now regretting this moment in this hallway when you could've done something great. Go home tonight and do something. Two days later, I ran into her again in the same hallway. I repeated many of the same things. She said she was "seriously thinking about it," which sounded pretty terrible to me. Lots of people "seriously think" about things and then live lives of quiet desperation. Fail to make their dreams come true.
Lie in their death bed regretting all that could have been. Three days later I mailed her a two-page letter reminding her that someday is today. Stop making excuses. Stop 'seriously thinking about it' and start making your dreams come true. Our only guarantee in life is that that someday it will end. The rest is up to us.
Taking Manhattan out of the Apple? | Uncommon Descent
We need to make the beauty and magic and art in our lives real. We have to stop saying that someday we'll do something and instead make that someday today. She probably thinks I'm crazy. She might even believe that I'm a voodoo priest. Maybe she's right. I sent a person who I knew for all of three minutes a letter demanding that she stop spinning her wheels and build something. Create an opportunity.
To return to the old silence, even partial- ly, is unthinkable. There is also the political considera- tion. Even if McMurtry manages to find a judge who will bring in the required verdict, I do not think he will look very good. But if he loses once again and don't forget that the legal system now has face to save and will be psychologi- cally with you , then he will look very bad indeed. It would be wonderful if your tenacity could be responsible for helping to keep such a hypocrite out of CanadiEm politics. But is is easy for me, and the rest of us, to cheer you on from the sidelines, and if other people are like me, they must feel a bit guilty at watching others fighting our battle for us undergoing the tension and dread of the endless court procedures.
The very least we can do is to make sure there is enough money. Where do I send my contribution?
I don't think the principles have changed either and if they were worth fighting for then, they surely must be as important more?! There is a serious attempt being made to eliminate TBP or render it ineffectual. If you nod ' 'guilty' ' you give away your credibility and you let Roy McMurtry call the shots. In that state the paper is as good as lost.
Your Hterature has spoken a great deal about freedom of the press.
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To nod "guilty" seriously erodes that freedom. People like you, Kevin Orr, the "found- ins" etc, are not rolling over, pleading guilty and keeping quiet. You encourage others to fight back. Your philosophy is sound — stick with it! How- ever, you seem to need a boost in other ways too.
Anger and frustration founded this movement, as did pride. In turn the movement gave birth to The Body Politic. Roy McMurtry and his uptight bunch of decency experts will not snuff out the most powerful and articulate voice of the country's Gay community!
The Attorney General's attempts to rid society of such "subversive" publi- cations as TAP should set off alarm bells in the corporate ears of every Canadian newspaper, radio and television station. They could be next the Tory Sun excluded perhaps? So please, TBP, hang in there. This fight is worth more than five hundred dollars sales tax excluded.
We're over- due for a final "I told you so" victory. Maybe the next judge will sentence the Attorney General to weekend commu- nity work Pen pals. What a wonderful invention, unless, of course, you happen to be Gay and in prison. One day 1 was sitting behind my type- writer, working as an inmate clerk in one of the offices I've been behind a type- writer in every joint I've been in , when a guy shoved his head through the door- way. Out in the hall we played twenty questions.
Not being stupid by any stretch of the imagination, I realized that he was referring to Gaymates, the pen-pal club in Saskatoon. I also realized that I had not received any mail from them. After playing the game, I was told I was not allowed to be a member of a pen-pal club while I was an inmate.
It did not make any difference that I was a member before I came here. The rules are retroactive. I especially could not be a member of a Gay pen-pal club, since homosexuality is considered to be inde- cent. Mail that had been sent to me by Gaymates had been returned.
I was upset. First, while the Commis- sioner of Penitentiaries in Ottawa has determined that being Gay is indecent, he is referring to the act, not the thought. Therefore, while I may commit an indecent act, it does not, in my mind, refer to mail or magazines. I was also upset because, while these guys were go- ing by one rule about pen pals and being Gay, they had totally ignored the rule that says that every time they return mail they have to send a written notice to the inmate telling him why.
But, of course, the rules are only for the staff to use against the inmate, and lord help the in- mate who is smart enough to use them against the staff.
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I was also upset because I didn't know who this guy was, but he was getting my goat. When I asked him about gay pubH- cations, he said that they could not be allowed in because some people might find them offensive, the same way they could not let Ku Klux Klan material in because Black inmates might find them to be offensive. Fine, I said.
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I feel that Playboy is offensive, but you let that in. Well, that is different, apparently.
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The rednecks in Ottawa think that it is okay to masturbate all over the centrefold of Playboy, but not Mandate or In Touch. By this stage of the conversation, the Irish blood in me was getting to the boil- ing point. I still didn't know who this guy was, and I was at the point of not really caring. I politely asked if this deci- sion could be appealed. He didn't get ruffied in the least.
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He just walked into the office and sat down and started talking to the officer in charge of my area. He had heard me spout off about the appeal, and damned near swallowed his pipe, but said nothing to me. I went back to my typing and tried to cool down.