A journalistic dilemma: To self-out or not to self-out?

This is a post purely born of insomnia.

Three uncomfortable hours of sleep on this Memorial Day morning and I found myself awake at 4:30 and unable to get my mind and body to agree on whether to stay in bed. The mind won out for now.

So I ran to my wife, Ms. HP Laptop, for a little comfort, and started noodling around on the Interwebs and decided to check in on what was going on in my old haunting grounds of New Haven, Ct. – hence, the New Haven Register’s website.

And I found a “Hoo-boyyyyy …” moment that has to do with my current state. And it raises a journalistic and moralistic dilemma in the process.

Five Songs, Part 32

The Memorial weekend edition of Five Songs comes from some seriously random corners this week, as it should. Go and enjoy this glorious weekend:

Investigate — Major Lance

Hillbillies From Outer Space — The Vaughan Brothers

We’re Acting Like Lovers — The Spellbinders

There’s No Surf in Cleveland — Euclid Beach Band

I Can’t Stand Up for Falling Down — Elvis Costello & the Attractions

Five Songs, Part 31

Well, this week’s Five Songs happens to be six songs, only because I couldn’t decide on which version of the last song to use when I woke up. Either way works, and besides, good things come in pairs. Or is it threes? Anyway, enjoy the weekend:

Lonely Too Long — The Young Rascals

Queen of the Bar-B-Q — The Hickoids

Walkin’ With Mr. Lee — Lee Allen & His Band

Wild Honey — The Beach Boys

Kentucky Woman — Neil Diamond

Kentucky Woman — Deep Purple

Five Songs, Part 30

OK, time for five more Five Songs. And this week, there’s no rhyme or reason — the selections are as scattered as my stressed-out brain and fracturing psyche. But at least you can dance to them. So dance!

Why — The Byrds

No Time (extended “Canned Wheat” version) — The Guess Who

Jet Set — Joe Jackson

The Gorilla — The Ideals

Isolation — Joy Division

Love those fortune cookies, Part 15

It had been a while since I perused the sushi trough at my usual Chinese buffet place, but yesterday I just needed it. And when you need it, you just need it, you know? And I figured the fish would be especially fresh on this Monday, the day after the Mother’s Day blitz.

And since I hadn’t it the Chinese joints in a while, it meant no new, interesting, bizarrely germane fortunes.

Well, it turns out my cookie had a surprise — not a “Toy Surprise Inside!” like Cracker Jack, but two fortunes. The fact that it was the same fortune twice is irrelevant. They were both, unsurprisingly, interesting and bizarrely germane. And they both said:

“You are kind-hearted and hospitable, cheerful and well-liked.”

Well, I’ll certainly agree with everything but the cheerful part at the moment. I really need to be working again. Doubly. Enough of this shit already.

Five Songs, Part 29

Hi. Here you go with this week’s edition of Five Songs.

It did occur to me that, since much of the universe unloads music links in a steady torrent on Facebook, maybe my five offerings a week might be a little too quaint and meager and anachronistic. But I started this feature before I even knew I was gonna join Facebook, and besides, five songs a week won’t hurt anyone or anything or sensory-overload you. In fact, they might pick you up on a Friday. So here you go. Enjoy!

Don’t Pity Me — Joanie Somers

Misty Mountain Hop — Led Zeppelin

Big Ten Inch Record — Bullmoose Jackson

Telstar — The Tornados

Global Village — Laika & the Cosmonauts

The C-word

Whaddya want, a medal? Hardly.

Through much of this wild gender trip of mine, I’ve been wrangling with and stumbling over this one word that other people throw at me from time to time but with which I truly have a hard time.

It’s my version of “the C-word.” In this case, thankfully, it’s not cancer. Nor is it the four-letter vaginal vulgarity that Brits throw around like coins but which makes most Americans blanch with horror.

But it is, indeed, something I’ve heard at times from the mouths and emails of friends and occasionally strangers. And it’s a good word, something they use in the most positive and encouraging way possible. However, it doesn’t mean I can’t feel uneasy about it.

Seven little letters. At the risk of sounding all Dan Rather on you, it’s “courage.”