[This is a re-post from last year....look - it's Pride Week - which is basically about recycling in any case - right?]
[Said bovine worker has since moved onto greener pastures. I like it when new Walmarts come to town and hire everyone.]
:: :: ::
I was interrogated at work last night by a co-worker who had unilaterally decided that I was the Expert Laureate on all things gay, and thus, could bring her summarily up to date on current sex politics & practices. She, evidently, lives in a cave.
Years ago, I welcomed these kind of interactions - because i) my "Out-ness" became an interactive experience ("go ahead - ask me anything"), ii) I - and anyone who chose - could influence the promulgation & preservation of our fledgling culture to a teeny degree ("no - only yucky fags like Liza Minelli, dear") and, more importantly, iii) it was way better than getting gay-bashed or gang-raped by red-necks (ok?).
Except now, whenever someone locks me into one of these ostensibly "tolerant" conversations, it feels like a Q & A at some Learning Annex for The Especially Stupid..
:: Q - "Why are you guys so well-groomed?"
A - I have no idea. Why is your husband such a slob?
:: Q - "Is there someone special in your life?"
A - Uh, I have no foster children. Oh, sorry, did you mean is there another GUY/SAME SEX PERSON/YOUR SON who's dick & ass I suck and fuck?
:: Q - "What do think about all those priests?"
A - That they've stimigatized fags as long as they've diddled kids. Do please fuck-off.
:: Q - "Have you ever had women interested in you?"
A - Yes, don't touch me.
:: Q - "I've never met a gay person before"
A - Yes, actually, you've probably met lots. But your hairdresser is definitely straight, lady.
Enough already with the patient, saintly Noblesse Oblige......Ma'am? Buy a fucking book.
Wednesday, June 25
Misty, Watercolour Memories
I met WCBoy Saturday evening. He was beyond charming. So charming, in fact, that by the end of the evening, I had been ::
a) Tied in a cross;
b) Buckled in a sling;
c) Blindfolded;
d) Collared;
e) oh yeah - and whipped;
Sure beats going to FLY, lemme tell ya...
Monday, June 23
Patty Hearst Weekend
What a bizarre weekend. Even regular readers accustomed to posts re: cracked-out forays into the Big City will not believe what happened to me this past Saturday....I need, however, to re-acquire my normal brain-cell baseline before attempting to assemble a post about it. Gimme a few days - I'm trying to organize my flash-backs.
In the meantime - here's some new music ( ignore the "Ooops" message - and go to "Main Page")::
Sorry for that shitty mix of the song I wrote for Chris, posted here yesterday - no, it wasn't your speakers - the finer points of sound engineering continue to elude me. Here's a much better version ::
[Listening to: Alabama Blues [Todd Edwards Vocal Mix] - St Germain - Boulevard: New Version: The Complete Series (05:43)]
It's one of those days, you know?
Number of times over the last 24 hours I've cautioned fellow fags on the pitfalls of "gay marriage" :: 4
Number of times, in my life, that I've considered some sort of official "union" arrangement with another man :: 2
Number of times, in my life, that I've felt "married" :: Must we?
My personal take on the percentage increase in Gay Matrimony Tourism Toronto will experience over the next year :: 50
My personal take on the resultant percentage increase in messy public couple behaviour which we will witness, like it or not :: 100
Odds that Zelda's will invent a new martini called the "Pre-Nup Penthouse" :: 80-1
Odds that most sugar daddies have already consulted their lawyers re:: basic alimony law :: 90-1
Odds that most cunning twinks had this figured out - a long time ago.... :: 95-1
Odds that the term 'reception line' will mean something quite different than what, perhaps, we're accustomed to....in and around Church Street over the next few months :: Ha. Can you imagine?
Number of married men I've, uh, hooked-up with :: A few.
Number of times I plan on doing this again :: 0 - not worth the drama, now.
Average number of BF's per year with whom I seem to find myself - even though I go on & on & on & on about the joys of Single Living :: 2
Number of therapists (I'm serious) who've said I do this 'cause I'm an a) ultra-control freak and b) pathologically indisposed to experiencing rejection :: 2
Percentage of said therapists whom I subsequently fired forthwith after they shared that little nugget with me :: 2
Percentage of my spare time which I devote towards controlling everything :: Not that much, actually - you just have to be a) always 'on message' and b) organized.
Percentage of my spare time which I devote towards examination of my face for new wrinkles :: Just call me "Dorian".
Number of trips I'm taking this summer :: 3 - Montreal, Ottawa, New York.
Number of trips I can afford :: 1
After I purchase those amazing Yamamoto-Addidas sneakers next week :: 0
Percentage of my impressive, if I do say so myself, wardrobe which I have given away to various friends/acquaintances over the past 6 months :: 50
My net return, karmically, for this :: 70
Number of people I know, at this point, whom I'd allow to see me, dressed a la shlep, as I am, at home... :: 3. Really - 'tis not pretty.
Number of surveys concerning the 'gay demographic' in which I've been asked to participate over the past 2 weeks :: 4. And the irony is killing me.
Tuesday, June 17
Say It With Leather
Have you heard? Hide is the new taffeta..
(with apologies - look, you gave me the picture, sweetheart - to Colin)
:: some friends
:: a little attitude
:: a little reality
:: various appetites
:: the camera
:: canadian chocolate for Jennie :: canadian cigarrettes for Donald
Can't wait to play...
Thursday, June 12
Dying Young As A Career Move
I actually heard some Vernissage Pamphleteer (trans. = art critic) discuss this on the CBC last night. No wonder Vincent cut off his ear.
Even though I dislike the eponymous TV show, the Q.A.F. party this weekend was fun - as all fuck. This is why ::
:: People did fuck.
:: By the smell of things, the overwhelming majority of leather daddies & meth heads actually did bathe, pre-party.
:: The Promoter did his job. Plus - he had what I thought were these HUGE eyes, further magnified by insane Fashion Editor glasses. I thought, in fact, that he had lucked into some nuclear-powered E, which had dilated not only his pupils, but his eyeballs as well. He subsequently turned out ot be bizarre & charming in a Fellini kind of a way - and I subsequently realized that it was I who was on the nuclear-powered E.
:: The police did not raid the venue, or even make an appearance.
:: The venue did not resemble the Show's Club, at all.
:: Everyone was nice.
:: One of my best friends from my West Coast Party To Death Days was there - in one piece.
:: Someone who is very, very important to me has seen a glimpse of the chaos in my head, and does not think it's a bad thing - in fact, this info came in the form of one of the highest compliments I've ever received, which I was/am too blown away to acknowledge in person...in the meantime, I do need to monitor myself more closely.
Who knew Mental Health was only one Big Gay Event Away?
Friday, June 6
Lighten Up
Most of my friends have undergone some form of personal hell-on-earth this week - so I've written a perky remix, to cheer things up a bit ::
Come on...it's only your life, for crying out loud.
Thursday, June 5
When the goin' gets rough......
....Colin gets fabulous....
Wednesday, June 4
Last one - promise...
Tuesday, June 3
Wardrobe Essentials
Kurt and I usually plumb the depths whenever we IM each other...yesterday, we were all about Gay Jeans. This scintillating conversation led me to shoot a little clip re: recent wardrobe acquisitions ::
You can click my ass, sweetheart....
Sunday, June 1
And on the 7th day, God created A/V...
Here's another Videoblogtm, borne of my chronic (hee hee) Sunday Sloth ::
Click the picture, stupid...
Here's another Song/Remixyawn, for my cousin, Aimee ::