Webisodes Killed the Gay-For-Pay Star: An Interlude

How web-based shows will change your view of mainstream media.

An Interlude: Telling Stories

Humans have been telling stories since we crawled out of the primordial goo and developed opposable thumbs on our little flatworm bodies*. From simple hunting tactics to fantastical myths of our creation (and, of course, porn), humans have communicated tales of who we are, what we do and where we come from and it is a habit, a skill, a need unique to our breed of animal.

The way we tell stories and the media we use has changed a lot since our days of finger painting on cave walls. No longer confined to rudimentary symbols or text; traditional, Mainstream and New Media has allowed us to tell our stories vividly; in full technicolour and high definition.

But despite all this evolution, our reason for telling stories has stayed the same: We seek, we yearn, and we crave that transcendental moment of connection with our fellow human.

For Queers, so often marginalised, alienated and maligned, telling stories can be one of the few ways we are able to touch, not only each other, but the people who consider us to be Untouchables. Through book and stage, small screens and large, we tell our stories so we can be seen; to share that which makes us the same and remove the fear that comes from misunderstanding that which makes us different.

In the first instalment of this webseries, I talked about the importance of groping supporting quality homo products. In the second, I vented my frustration at Mainstream Media’s gay-pandering tactics and the infuriating trend of the TV clit-tease.

Before we get to Otalia and Venice: The Series, I want to take a moment to talk about Queer Visibility and Positive Queer Representation, and what they mean to me.

Also, Hot Chicks and Boobs.

So here we go.

Visibility Matters.

Word Of The Day: Change

Change.

Change is inevitable. Like growing older, the passage of time - whether you like it or not, change will come.

Sometimes change sneaks up on you; sometimes you sense its impending doom like a storm cloud heavy overhead, or a wolf snarling and nipping at your heels. However it arrives, and no matter how well you think you have prepared yourself for it, change will always, without exception, find a way to turn your world upside down.

Even the smallest of changes, such as your favourite cafe running out of soy when you go in for your morning latte, can throw out your entire day. Now you have to order tea, or grab some water, or even move on to the next cafe a block down the street. It is simple, and yet we resist. A pebble on the track, change can derail the train of your day and send you sprawling across the gravel, dirty and bloodied and wondering what the hell just happened.

Change is seldom comfortable.

I am quick to admit I do not like change, but rarely as forthcoming with why I don’t like change.