Roger Ebert's moving account of no longer being able to eat or drink has been pinging around the blogosphere. On Tuesday he described the sexual rigidity of the mid-twentieth century:
It was one night in the Capitol that I saw for the first time one man kiss another one full on the lips. This took place among guys we knew at the next table over. I clearly recall that we all fell silent, our eyes evaded one another, and none of we bold bohemians could utter a single word. Something like a mild electric shock ran through my body. No, I didn't "discover I was gay." I discovered that other people surely were. Until then homosexuality had been witnessed by me only in novels, poetry, vague scenes in films, and rumor. I knew lots of "queers," by which I meant "effeminate," but my imagination stopped more or less with them laughing about the same things.
Eric Rauchway reviews Ebert's recent output.
The Dish 