tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74915369036992622662011-07-04T21:06:29.227-04:00i find myself important enough to write my thoughts and put them on the internet for you to validate. Your input is greatly ignored.Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.comBlogger186125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-84544867177759760402011-06-07T21:07:00.004-04:002011-07-04T21:05:16.089-04:002011-07-04T21:05:16.089-04:00

Lately, I've been obsessed with drag queens. I blame my roommate, Matt, for getting me high on drag. He's a penis-tucker pusher. He's a drag dealer who doesn't take 'no' for an answer. And so, I've become addicted. He's also gotten me addicted to Tina, gambling and strangely enough, catching syphilis, but drag seems to be the high that I keep searching for. If my Mom read my blog (Hi Mom, I

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-75881044648471027612011-04-18T21:24:00.000-04:002011-04-18T21:24:03.840-04:002011-04-18T21:24:03.840-04:00

Have I begun to update my blog again? I don't know, don't ask me stupid questions. All I know is that I got somethin' to say!! I'll catch you up. I (finally!) moved to Brooklyn. I'm still a vegetarian, maybe vegan soon. I still work with little baby gays. I still love Lady Gaga, Madonna controversy and all. I still love Madonna, irrelevance and all. I am still a homosexual. And I'm still kinda

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-65703739505705309722011-03-12T20:00:00.000-05:002011-02-13T20:21:02.111-05:002011-02-13T20:21:02.111-05:00

W: Barbra Streisand. Without the H. Putaaaaa. W: Bitch has done a lot uh shit and sang uh lot uh notes. (8:01pm) M: Make sure you take your lotto numbers. M: LL Cool J wears his sunglasses at night. W: Princesses? Oooh, who dat? M: R-E-S-P- WHUT? W: Dose lips. M: Ouh! Martina?! M: (in response to J. Hud) Oh, she looks good. M: (in response to Martina) No. M: (in response to Florence) Oh, yes.

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-63341999660884707312010-09-13T22:29:00.002-04:002010-09-14T00:17:12.095-04:002010-09-14T00:17:12.095-04:00

Scent is supposedly the strongest sense tied to memory.  I've always just thought that's just what "they" say because scent and sense are only 2 letters apart.  I guess "they" are right.  I can't think of any memory that isn't tied to a scent.  The smell of chocolate cookies fresh out of the oven takes me directly back to early Decembers of my childhood when my mom would feverishly make batch

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-76874205526540899342010-09-10T21:18:00.000-04:002010-09-13T23:38:32.117-04:002010-09-13T23:38:32.117-04:00

Or...why this gay man like lady singers. Ever since I was a little gay, I always felt a strong connection to songs sung by women.  The other day, I was jammin' out in my truck (yep, you read that right) to some Lady Gaga (yep, you read that right) and I was thinking of the many comments I've gotten from friends, family, and strangers on the aforementioned: Gaga and big gay me driving a pick-up

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-4698598238447245022010-08-24T23:22:00.000-04:002010-08-24T23:22:00.445-04:002010-08-24T23:22:00.445-04:00

This... is all I aspire to attain in my life. Danny & Annie from StoryCorps on Vimeo.

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-14870227297716791362010-08-23T21:59:00.000-04:002010-08-23T21:59:38.324-04:002010-08-23T21:59:38.324-04:00

This is bullshit, you guys.  Sometimes, I forget what country I'm living in - and what time period I'm living in.  I refuse to get all Huffington on your asses, but I'm a little huffy.  What the flying fuck is with this fucking Muslim shit? Hi, hello.  Welcome.  It's the year 2010.  We have this thing called the Internet.  We have this other thing called mass communication which has made us all

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-64545725466931330872010-08-16T20:06:00.002-04:002010-09-30T21:15:35.410-04:002010-09-30T21:15:35.410-04:00

If only I had a hamburger.  This is what I think to myself when I get into a sticky situation, and not the good kind of sticky situation (I'm referring to candy, of course).  I admit, it's an odd knee-jerk reaction to have after being royally screwed over... at least for someone who is a vegetarian.  If only I had a hamburger - not to eat, but to throw at the wall in total disdain and heartbreak.

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-60071893236140117482010-08-05T00:11:00.000-04:002010-08-05T00:11:48.790-04:002010-08-05T00:11:48.790-04:00

Not so long ago, I filled this blog with posts of impassioned essays about my experiences as a gay man fighting for equality.  To be honest, my focus has shifted away from writing about that for several reasons.  Number one, Lady Gaga has entered my life.  Also, I try not to use this a soap box for things so much as an avenue for self-deprecation and my journey into professional gayness.  But

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-2475920497643536662010-07-20T23:35:00.000-04:002010-07-20T23:35:36.183-04:002010-07-20T23:35:36.183-04:00

I didn't always hate the word "bitch."  In fact, I was always a huge fan of the word.  It was always bitch this, and bitch that and quite frankly, I couldn't get enough of all the bitches in my life.  One of my favorite people in the entire world, Tabatha/Tobias, punctuates every sentence with at least one bitch.  At the very least.  Sometimes, seven.  One time I called her up and I axed her how

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-50824753048893242472010-07-01T10:25:00.000-04:002010-07-01T10:25:00.449-04:002010-07-01T10:25:00.449-04:00

The xx - Islands (Live) from DJ Rigel on Vimeo. I cannot get enough of this/them!  Werk, hipsters, werk!

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-62438045849670814942010-06-30T00:21:00.000-04:002010-06-30T00:21:39.200-04:002010-06-30T00:21:39.200-04:00

I know it may come as a shock to many, so I suppose it's best to just rip the band-aid right off and get on with it: I'm gay.  See, I've always known I was gay, and most folks have always known I was gay on some level, but I think I reached new levels of gayness over the past few weeks.  We're talking unicorn levels of gayness. It all started with my purple shorts.  You see, I've alluded to

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-81629449102102408582010-05-23T22:04:00.002-04:002010-06-16T23:13:48.064-04:002010-06-16T23:13:48.064-04:00

Yeah, I google myself.  Often, I'll google myself after I meet an important person and they learn my last name, or if I start dating someone and it's getting serious.  In this instance, neither have happened or are currently happening, I was just feeling especially narcissistic.  Or, shall we say, image-conscious.  Unfortunately, my Google results make me seem like a pervert and it's not because

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-1700914875303068512010-05-19T22:50:00.000-04:002010-05-19T22:50:38.902-04:002010-05-19T22:50:38.902-04:00

Let me set the scene for you.  Come in, relax.  Take off your bra, if you'd like.  I've waited to tell this story until enough time passed because tragedy + time = comedy.  And this is one tragic story, but also too good not to tell.  It's January.  It's fucking freezing.  And I'm in Brooklyn, of course, making people jealous of my boogie at Sugarland. Sugarland is this amazing gay club in BK

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-24855714084771009582010-05-19T22:27:00.000-04:002010-05-19T22:27:38.572-04:002010-05-19T22:27:38.572-04:00

I write because I'm good at it.  When I say this, I don't mean to toot my own horn, but toot toot.  I committed myself to this blog over a year ago because I have always been told by others that I was a good writer, and of all the things in my life besides performing, it has come naturally to me.  I never felt like I had to work hard at writing.  I could finish 10-page papers in a matter of an

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-35088301184543891402010-05-17T23:36:00.000-04:002010-06-16T23:37:36.092-04:002010-06-16T23:37:36.092-04:00

A few weeks ago, I treated myself to a much needed day off from work to finally meet Marina Abramovic.  I woke up at almost the exact time that I wake up to go to work, but it was [un]surprisingly much easier to get out of bed on this morning.  I hopped on the train and watched the tired suburbia pull away behind me. My interest in Marina Abramovic goes back a few years.  I was dating a

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-19012813221229062392010-04-20T23:07:00.000-04:002010-04-20T23:07:42.234-04:002010-04-20T23:07:42.234-04:00

Judith Butler coined the phrase "gender performativity," and I can confidently bet all of my net-worth on the assumption that she'd never in a million years predict that someone like Lady Gaga could even begin to encapsulate its many implications.  Primarily, as I understand it, gender performativity refers to the illusion of gender.  Gender is not something real.  Gender, in fact, is an idea

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-44485793556145150822010-04-19T23:29:00.001-04:002010-04-19T23:30:05.200-04:002010-04-19T23:30:05.200-04:00

If Edgar Allan Poe were on Prozac, I believe this is how he would have written one of his most famous works, The Raven.  For reference, this is the original version.  Enjoy. Once upon a day of sunny delight, while I pondered, lively and light, Over many a electro and glorious catalogue of forgotten Ace of Base, While I jiggied, close to clapping, suddenly there came a tapping As of a bouncy beat

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-76983932931868239252010-04-15T21:30:00.000-04:002010-04-15T21:30:41.408-04:002010-04-15T21:30:41.408-04:00

I graduated from college nearly two years ago.  In May, I will pass that marker and probably experience a day or two of subtle depression at the thought of getting older.  And by subtle depression, I mean I will make a mix CD of songs that remind me of that time in my life, listen to it on repeat for a week, and cry at the strategically placed tearjerkin' song at the end of said mix CD. I had

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-88488832247190094132010-04-14T17:38:00.001-04:002010-04-14T18:14:27.401-04:002010-04-14T18:14:27.401-04:00

When I was younger, I had creativity out the ass.  My creativity was an endless geiser of totally non-sensical ideas that anyone in my near vicinity was subject to.  So, for the first years of my life, it was my parents and immediate family who enjoyed the esteemed pleasure of witnessing my ...precociousness? There were the annual Christmas productions at the fireplace theater in our living

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-41171966325916772432010-04-13T00:24:00.001-04:002010-04-13T18:36:27.052-04:002010-04-13T18:36:27.052-04:00

I waited a long time.  It was a moment seven years in the making.  I realize now that the previous sentence makes it seem like I first had gay sex at seven years old.  This is not the case.  I first had gay sex when I was twenty.  I started on the path to that gay sex when I was thirteen, which was when daydreams were no longer enough.  It involved me, a bathroom, and a picture of a shirtless P.

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-5666999183866948312010-04-10T12:56:00.000-04:002010-04-10T12:56:00.700-04:002010-04-10T12:56:00.700-04:00

One of the most incredible works of modern art I've ever seen. Logorama from Marc Altshuler - Human Music on Vimeo.

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-3670906654252885462010-04-09T11:57:00.004-04:002010-04-09T12:05:48.517-04:002010-04-09T12:05:48.517-04:00

I love both of these songs very much.  Liking one of them makes me feel like a tween.  Liking the other makes me feel like a mature, sophisticated gay man.  When I saw the video for "Naturally," I knew I had seen it before.  Kind of like when I saw Rihanna's "Rude Boy" music video, I knew I had seen it before. Later that day, I got to thinking about music videos.  Is one video's great (and

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-29979786678848823312010-04-04T23:20:00.001-04:002010-04-04T23:20:43.574-04:002010-04-04T23:20:43.574-04:00

I was on the train to Manhattan yesterday, on my way to meet up with Barbara and Charlotte, a new friend.  More accurately, I was supposed to go to Brooklyn first to see my friend John and draw Lady Gaga outfits in sidewalk chalk on his roof and soak up the sun.  On the subway, there were two tweenage girls holding dirty pillows.  I remember thinking "how cute, they're going to have a sleepover."

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7491536903699262266.post-7484033605208948752010-03-30T21:35:00.001-04:002010-04-04T15:54:01.322-04:002010-04-04T15:54:01.322-04:00

I've been a bad, bad gay.  I kind of hate a member of my own community.  Besides Perez Hilton.  Of course, every gay should hate Perez Hilton for the mess he creates and rolls around in like a fat pig on a warm summer's day.  But Adam Lambert?  He's someone who is generally well-liked, as far as I can see, and you know, actually does something other than using MS Paint to draw jizz on people's

Weshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09441646587540768535noreply@blogger.com0