I’m reading The Plot Against America by Philip Roth on Kathy’s recommendation, and I’m liking it. It’s enraging, but then I tell myself that the American-specific Anti-Semitism in it is (kinda) fictional.
I wrote that paragraph above and then went out to get lunch and finish the thought later.... but then I got called a faggot and punched in the street by a stranger, so the book is now meaning more to me than before.
A summary of my police report: I was crossing Spring Street completely legally at the intersection of 6th Avenue. A delivery truck driven by a guy on a cell phone was turning and almost hit me and another guy. Me and the other guy put our hands up like "what are you doing," but we didn't say or mouth anything to the driver. The driver (jacked) got out, followed me down the street (not the other guy), called me a "faggot" several times, punched me really hard in the jaw, knocked my stuff onto the sidewalk, and went back to his truck. Then when I looked at his license plate to memorize the number he came back, called me a "faggot" again, and asked me if I was going to "be a bitch" and "tell" on him. I got the plate number, though, and the name of his company from the side of the truck.
Can't turn my neck, my jaw is really sore, and I can't close my mouth without it hurting. Now sitting at home alone because Christian's in Montreal, Kathy's in Santa Fe, mom is in Cleveland, and I don't even want to go outside to get food. I'm gonna order something and watch TV.
Dozens of people saw this happen to me, in the broad daylight in Soho, and everyone ignored it and moved along. I understand nobody getting physical with the guy on my behalf; I probably wouldn't do that for a stranger. But everyone looked away and walked away, nobody would be a witness even after the guy left. This is why I hate when people tell me I'm not on the shit side of a new Civil Rights Movement and/or that gays have basically achieved equality in 2008.
