love as the earth moves round the sun

Faggots Making Out Places

Faggots Making Out Places

So here we are hurtling through space on a rock that spinning around an explosion that’s twirling like the fringe on a super faggoty tassel dress on the edge of some galactic 1920’s flapper as we venture ever on in some directionless infinite space with out much of a point but with a whole lot of feelings, and its our anniversary.


I don’t know what any of the dots stand for, i just like this image because it looks very MATHY. and also because galaxies look like a great milky foam on a latte.

Its Nick and my anniversary, of the day we met, which is also the day we started dating, which seems like yesterday and about 17 years ago, (Because time is super relative, and Nick and I being both New Yorkers talk a lot and fast and being both over fascinated with how humans as humans function have spent hours in some weird state of seemingly endless meta-reflection on our individual ‘me-ness’ and out collective ‘us-ness’ , WHICH I LOVE, but does make it feel at times like I’ve known him for ever) but was in fact just 730 days ago.

We met at Burning Man and time stood still. (to set the scene, I was pole dancing on a platform as a mermaid in a blue sequined gown and a ferocious pink wig covered in an endless parade of flowers woven into my hair and big old leather boots. Also perhaps its time to be honest, I was trying to pole dance. I’m not very good at it at the best of times, but the pole was hardly vertical, and my dress was really long. I mean I’m sure I looked FIERCE, but its also possible I looked like a carp struggling to breath out in the open air, THRASHING. He was dressed like some sort of Ninja auto mechanic, there are no pictures.)



But really, time, it actually slowed down. It was slow time, beautiful time, time you can think in, time that functions on a scale different to the human, a time more cellular. I’m sure we have all had the experience. Normally I see life like this big crazy orgy of death and desire and Handle esq dramatic classical music, and its all mood lighting (And lightning) and raw emotions, and giants eating the flesh of mere mortals, and utter chaos and blood. Fields of endless humanity striped of all pretension till its revels in it animalistic, natural, orgiastic, fecund, brilliance. It’s primal and sweaty and layered in complexity.

And because I’m a faggot its also filled with lots and lots of glitter and ponies and you know Hieronymus Bosch Garden of Earthly Delights realness and Raqib Shaw inspired faggotry and soaring diva arias and pink lipstick. And there are exquisite waterfalls of diamonds and fields with grass so green you recognize them as fluid fields of emeralds. All furniture is antique, all cups are goblets all goblets are ornate, and there is no difference between this space and any other.

Raqib Shaw is a genius. Look him up, Pictures hardly do it justice.

Another one of my favorite Shaw pieces

Everything is piled against each other till reality becomes so deep in the endless layered complexity, which is friendship and love and dreams, and war and suffering, and longing that it all becomes a flat two dimension painted experience that is simultaneously Zeus being eaten by Saturn and the arrival of Venus.

Goya…. WERK

#Iwokeuptolifelikethis #flawless

And I’m sure I’m not alone in this vision, I know Nick for instance has seen reality this way before, and perhaps that’s why I love him.

But in that moment, everything stopped. Amidst the chaos of reality, there was a breath of silence. True silence. Not the silence which is the absence of noise, that silence is basic, that silence is a shadow of true silence. It’s the silence in which the fates live, Clotho, Atropos, Lachesis, that was your domain. Everything was real in that moment, no chaos, no glitter, just the raw substance of life.

I don’t remember looking at him as he asked me if I wanted to leave that dance platform, and my well worked poll and those Bootie jams and go with him on an adventure. I remember seeing through him. To the space far distant which existed in an alternative future of my own. It was there, in that moment that I took my own fated threads into my own hands and wove but one stitch on the tapestry of my life.

This mashup is like soooo overly sentimental and I LOVE IT.

I very much wanted to say no. No was safe, and no was familiar, and no was no to all the things I did not feel I could yet say yes to. No was no to my faggotry, to self-work to love. No was living a pre-scripted life where I had already resigned myself to being a fat old gay man, in ruby sun glasses and Hawaiian shirts drink Cosmos, but the side of motel pools in Lodi, California. Which lets be honest sounds great. I have gray hair, and look like Glenn Close playing Baby Jane. I say loudly and often that I once was SOMEBODY. I spill most things I drink on myself, which is lucky as I’m always about to erupt into flames as the cigarettes I’m always trying to smoke, have a habit of falling onto the expanse of my stomach and smoldering away, unnoticed. Everything I own has burn marks and pits stains. All of this of course is redeemed when they make an E Hollywood true story about me and then a biopic and I spent the last several decades of my life transformed into some sophisticated slob.


The space beyond him was an epic sea of lights, and color, and other adventures, of art and wisdom I do not yet know, or may never. It was a choice towards a certain kind of life to say yes. I had so much more then two options then, I had a world of possibilities.

It was slowed time, stopped time, real time. It was glorious. I lived a thousand lives in that moment, I have seen a hundred me’s. Can one fall in love in a moment, in a look, in a word? No. did I? Yes. It was not a moment, it was a lifetime a spiritual breath. I had all the time to consider, and all we had done was kiss once, and Blah blah blah, I know mushy. But I loved him then, and I love him now.

Which is not to say that is been super easy. Relationships are hard. And I’m challenged by ours daily. Not like Hercules 12 labors challenged, but living with some one, and co-creating a life together can be totally exhausting. I’m also often overly dramatic and Nick can be absurd and we often both fail at being the best versions of ourselves. but that’s not a deal breaker, that’s the reality of life.

My makeup Is TERRIBLE, but Trouble looks lovely

My makeup Is TERRIBLE, but Trouble looks lovely

Since all people BE CRAZY, (obviously including myself) its rather miraculous to find any one at all to share ones life with. And it’s hard. Gay world is hard when it comes to love. And I guess I feel like sharing in case some of my journey which was hard and done largely in silence, can inspire you and save you some time. I mean there are a million great self-helpish books out there on this topic, like the VELVET RAGE, but i think sharing personal journeys can also help. Also this day is an occasion to socially celebrate our love, and our love has been supported so much by various communities and friends, that its hardly a celebration for two, but a deep thank you to everyone who has helped us grow together, so the least I feel I can do is be honest about how hard love is to find even within the self, let alone with another. So here is the spark notes version of mine.

Anyway I’m sure the world of straight love is hard too. I’m not saying we, as the ‘gays’ have it the hardest, I’m just saying there are some unique problems and process we work through as gay men, that are HARD to talk about. Not least because we self medicate with clubbing and anonymous sex and are so tired of years of repression and self hate, that some times we just like to explode into our own gayness and not have to be involved in more self reflection.

All we want is some good old fun and validation and lots of exceptionally hot fucking. I love all of these things and have indulged in them heavily, I’m not passing judgment on anyone, I’m just talking about my own experience, and in that I used sex and clubbing to avoid self reflection for a long time. But I think this process of self exploration which was kicked started in my psyche in a big way as I worked through feelings of same-sex desire, and then I abandoned for several years of hedonism, and am now picking up again in an intentional way is a gift connected to my gayness. I’m so glad I taught myself the tools of self-reflection and deeply interrogate my relationship to desire as I learned in silence and often suffering that I was gay. It was MESSY AS FUCK, and scary but GODDESS when I am down on my self or tired I just remember how proud I am of myself for coming out and discovery my own faggotry and its like ‘GURL you got this.’  and all those years of hedonism taught me how HAMAZING gay gay gay gay gay sex and dancing, and ki-ki-ing can be and that was totally necessary and I still LOVE IT.

US working We Got This Realness

US working We Got This Realness, Thanks Brett for this nip slip realness (

So for me, to really love Nick, to even be ready to meet some one like Nick and fall in love, took a huge amount of work. The first thing I had to learn was to love myself. ESPECIALLY my gay self. this involved processing large amounts of socially induced internalized homophobia in order to be able to truly embrace my gay love and not reject people who expressed desire for me. Which seems basic but I had a really hard time with it. I had a hard time letting people love me as I always felt slightly flawed for being gay. So I sought solace in fantastic female companions whose love I could accept as it was never sexual. AND i’m so glad I did that, I have had so many fantastic female identified teachers in my life, and thank you for your support and guidance, from my mother to my dearest friends, you taught me how to love all aspects of me. You all saved me! thank you! and you all taught me something our Lady Ru says “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love somebody else.”


Or at least I did/am learning to love my gayness. Which has been its own lengthy journey and I had to learn how to do that, before I could even begin thinking about loving another. Then I had to learn in my own way what it even means to love, for I both lacked good gay-love social role models, and I feel I lost so many potential teachers to the AIDS epidemic that their was a break in the transmission of knowledge and culture. Furthermore because of the Epidemic the act of love comes with a huge amount of social and personal baggage not to mention fears and phobias. There is a lot more to unpack here and I don’t want to make it sound simplistic but that conversation is for another time.

(And I don’t mean that I had not ever been exposed to love, but we spend so long seeing social depictions of love that are heteronormative that I fear that many of us feel distanced from love as we recognize that love, the most pervasively marketed and expressed form of love as something we find antithetical to our natures and desire. It takes a while to process this. Or again it did for me. And when sex which is an expression of love has become associated with death, love and desire hardly seem promising, them seem like the gateway to annihilation.)

I’d like to say I have done all this. And I’m totally sorted, but obviously that’s a massive lie. And it can make loving some one else hard, because I’m fragile, and broken and afraid, and incredibly strong, and self willed and in the words of Beyonce ‘I’m a grown woman I’ll do what ever I want.” Which I do. Often. But that in itself is messy. Life is messy. LIKE REALLY MESSY. And love is not some Hollywood romance, real love is self-annihilating and explosive, and it churns up your being and makes you look at all of yourself, hunting for that spot in you that is unlovable. Real love is not the reason you delete scruff or grindr. Real love is something that encourages you to explore everything, even sex with others, even intimacy with others, even love with others. Real love is not about promises to limit your experience, real love is about encouraging each other to grow. AND IT’S SO HARD. And I’m often really bad at it. But I try.

The day before I met Nick at Burning Man I sat with a shaman for 3 hours in the baking sun, and we talked through all of this. and I cried. OH did I cry, I cried with the ferocity of a man heaving up from the depths of his soul the poison of a life time. something fleshy and made of stone, covered in bile and oozing. It was rancid and real, and made up from the fibers of my fear. Just naming it that first time, just explore my fear, and my wounded shadow, made me so ready to even accept the thought of love. and of course there is tones of that bile still deep inside me, but I am lucky, unbelievably lucky. I have found this mystical amazing faggot companion who loves all the broken bits, (ok not all of them, but he makes a good show of taking the sharp edges along with the love) and helps me explore myself as I hope I help him. My journey towards loving Nick started with that Shaman that day when I accepted love in a visceral way. I believe that it was his guidance that allowed me to see the thought of love, the promise of love, in that moment out of time on that dance platform. (I FUCKING LOVE BURNING MAN SO MUCH ITS SUCH A GREAT PLACE TO GO TO LEARN ABOUT THE SOUL.)

But as I was saying when I started this here we are, floating in space, on a rock, in love. And its an adventure. It’s such an adventure. What are we marking with this anniversary, a year more of love, or the passing of the earth around the sun to the approximate place where we met before, (even thought that’s hardly true as everything is ever in motion and one can never return to space previously occupied.) Anniversaries are such human fleshy things, such absurd sentimental things, and I’m not totally sure why I am bending to this social pressure to make this day extra special and loving, (Like hello capitalism trying to squeeze money from my pockets in a tribute of love.) but im rather happy to do so, as I love to love you Nick and I love telling the world about it, no matter where in the heavens the earth hangs. Thank you for dancing with me.  and for making these super cute eyes at me a lot when you’re feeling super lovely, they MELT MY HEART. And for loving me when I burst into tears as we watch Legend Of Korra. (Which happens slightly too often, but Children’s TV. can be SOOOO DRAMATIC) And for letting me always be the little spoon, Like all the time.

This is the day we met. and im all like SWOON

This is the day we met. and im all like SWOON

So I took 4 disposable cameras worth of film over the last 12 months, I got them on our anniversary last year and I’ve taken random photos, of places we have been and moments we have had together, and here are a few of my favorites.


Nick and I being adorable on our last anniversary at the BURN


I just love to kiss him.

Ladies in red



LOVE EYES see these are the love eyes I was talking about!

So happy anniversary Mr. Trouble. I love you, thank you. I’m really glad to share our love, which we do with the world every day walking around holding hands, and hugging for longer then is necessary when we say good bye, (I’m a hugging addict) and occasionally wearing matching-ish faggoty outfits by mistake. I love you.


Faggots take to the beach

Somewhere between the sustained and off key rendition of PART OF YOUR WORLD, whilst waves thunderously crashed around me, surrounded by a sea of sensational homosexuals, Sunday became the best beach day of my life.

To explain, there comes a moment in every gay man’s life where he realizes his body is just not beach ready yet and it happens to be the very end of summer. Or at least for me this happens yearly and marks the passing of the seasons as surely as the equinox and solstices do. It’s a holiday for one and I celebrate with a moment of personal ritual; AKA I eat a massive brownie and whilst experiencing a sugar high, do five push-ups, pretend it’s the first day of the rest of my blah blah blah, all whilst listening to some Mariah track and then pass out whilst feeling both vaguely bad about my body and thrilled to have eaten a brownie. I adore brownies. Some how this year late August seems to roll around and I still in most ways seem to resemble a waxing moon made of melting brie.

(Granted presently it would be this SONG, I AM ADDICTED)

(Which is exacerbated by the fact that Sarah S. and I last weekend at the Wedding of Nicholas and Julian, ate the better part of a face sized wheel of brie at about 3 in the morning. IT WAS GLORIOUS. It was divine. It will be worn around my mid-drift like a hug for decades to come.)

I started googling ‘massive cheese wheel and ‘massive brie slab’ and well I lost about an hour of my life, and it was glorious

However, this year I really did think I was going to transform myself into some HULK of a man. You know the type who really only drinks power smoothies, or power milk, or you know, POWER something, like right from the source, sticks his tongue in the socket and drinks 120 volts for breakfast. The type of man who orders a burger between slices of TOFU. (I’m not sure that’s even healthy but it’s the sort of thing people with HUGE BICEPS eat in my dreams) I really actually have very little idea how people even get to be such HULKISH MEN and I’m moderately convinced that it involves Magic. This Magic I have heard is called the gym, So I joined, went all the time for a few months while I was doing physical therapy and then fled the city and my gym towards more cheddar and gouda filled pastures and any and all thoughts of beach body realness dissipated.

I’m not even sure I want to one. (OK THAT’S A LIE I DO) Especially when they wander up and down the beach in those swim suits which make me wonder if there is a shortage on fabric markets everywhere that I was not previously aware of. (I don’t shop to often so current trends to me are what’s in my closet and not dirty) How glorious it would be to resemble some Grecian statue.

Who needs a head when you’ve got those gutters.

Really I normally deal with these feeling much easier in the summer. These feelings specifically being that I fear I have a below-average-gay-body, which renders me all but invisible on the beach, or for that matter in main stream gay bars. This is not some sort of EVERYONE PLEASE TELL ME I’M CUTE MOMENT, it’s more a meditation on gay culture and body politics. Images of hunkish men are more or less pervasive and in not meeting those absurd standards of body beauty I do have to say I often feel shunned to the side of the gay desirability, something I at least try to combat in being if not muscular, at least overly well read. I’m not particularly expecting anything to change, I also ogle muscle studs, and fantasize about having those pec muscles that look like they might rip a shirt if I flexed. I just essentially lack the dedication to get that body. (or at least presently I do. Who knows, maybe gym realness lies in my future. I mean I try to stay in shape, I walk a lot, I only ever buy pints of ice-cream and eat the whole thing in bed while watching Missy Elliot music videos when I’ve had ‘one-of-those-days’. and those days are when ever I want a pint of ice cream thank-you-very-much.)

Sure I often worry that we are committing gay culture anesthetization in our collective pursuit of big dicks and great bodies over you know actual community. I worry that its just another moment of the capitalist machine figuring out how best to market ‘life’ to a specialized group of people and its much easier to sell gym memberships, protein shakes, trips to the tanning salon, and back waxing, then it is to sell community. (Cuz lets be honest, if back hair was something they could sell us then it would be in vogue rather than a sin to have it.)

But when I’m not freaked out about how seductive capitalism can be and how little of our conceptions of beauty are based and rooted from our own individual desire but that of society (Society as a product of the marketplace not of the community) defining beauty, I Find that I LOVE LOOKING AT ALL THE HOT MEN. Which always makes a beach trip enjoyable. Which is half the reason when Multiform invited me to the beach last weekend I was so excited. YAY, a day spent warm on the sand, staring at men who like to strut strut strut, while I lay caked in spf 50 in my pasty pasty glory.

I might be pasty, and i kind of look like i might be about to take Carlo's head as tribute but i love this photo

I might be pasty, and i kind of look like i might be about to take Carlo’s head as tribute but i love this photo (Photos by Wip)

I love the beach, so who cares if my abs lack definition the type of which I normally associated with dictionaries. As a kid, and then a teenager, and then a slightly younger twenty something, I used to be so embarrassed by my flesh, but I’m glad to say that’s largely speaking no longer the case. I mean I’m hardly proud of my muffin top, but its MY muffin top, and you know what, MUFFINS ARE DELICIOUS.

I love muffins that come in these BOOOOGIEEEEE paper dresses.

Which is not to say I don’t feel the eternal specter of body shame almost any time I pass a mirror, But its not as dehabilitating as it once was, I no longer feel that my body prevents me from being myself, as if only gay muscle hunks could ever have fun. Or at least it does not often in my daily life do so any more.

SO showing up at RIIS beach last Sunday, my first thought was I might want to consider not breathing and just flexing for the next 5 hours, if I was ever to even stand a chance of blending into the muscled habitat of the gay side of the beach.

Riis Beach back in the days when the world was in Black and White

My second thought was I think Sunday was also the first time I’ve ever gone to a beach, especially a gay section of a beach with a gaggle of gay friends. Perhaps going with a bundle of faggots was all I really needed to remind myself why I love beaches so. Well really to remind me that its OKAY to be yourself, even your not muscular self, when exploring the realm of the gay beach. A place I have often just felt as if I was trespassing through. THANK YOU, lovely Radical Faerie friends, for not judging me as I pranced/flounced around in my absolutely GARISH swim trunks, eating a massive sandwich and drinking Vodkas with the after-thought of orange juice all day. Thank you in fact for encouraging me, and for playing with me, and for generally also just being Awesome you rag tag crew of smokingly hot homosexuals.

In spaces like this I have often felt distanced or outside of the FUN TRAIN, because I would get all like introspective and self-judgy and stuff, but essentially I currently find that boring and I would much rather just have fun. If pressed to sum up the adventures we had over the 6 hours we were there, I would highlight our collective full body Smizing, the interpretive dance in the sand Isadora Duncan meets Paris Hilton Stars Are Blind style.




 The numerous sightings of the ass fish, which is actually not a fish at all but a mans ass, often my ass, cresting over the foamy waves. The in-depth class in Milkshake by Kelis studies, with a very detailed syllabus that included such classes as:

My Milkshake: I can teach you but I have to charge: How 21st century capitalism supports the commodification of previously community taught practices.

My Milkshake brings all the boys to the yard; Yard’s and the American pastoral, deconstructing American Relationships to manicured wilderness.

Lala-Lalala Warm it up: Global warming and pop culture

Lala-Lalala The Boys are waiting: Peter man Syndrome and the modern American masculine.

Milkshake; What the guys go crazy for: the invention of hetero & homo normatively and how sexual desire disrupts the boundaries of the normative socialized self.

There was even a rather epic snuggling session. Oh you know it was just really faggoty and beach filled and amazing. I’ve not yet been in America a year, but already this totally wacky country is beginning to feel like home. I feel a deep and loving kinship with the people here, and those beauties faggoty men and women and genderfull individuals I had the pleasure of sharing space with on Sunday helped me to truly feel and understand that.


YES KAWEEEENS (Photos by Wip) 

I’d not planned on that beach day being simultaneously HUGE amounts of fun as well as some how soul feeding. Essentially GUSH GUSH GUSH it was one of the nicest days I’ve had all summer. And perhaps by next year I will have found the time to integrate into my life a more developed work out schedule that does not just look like dancing in my underwear, but if pressed to choose between a beach ready body and a day at the beach like I had last Sunday, it would be faggot beach adventure every time. Thank you all for helping me feel like I belong there, muffin top and all.



Gay Wedding Realness


The most fantastic of Husbands (Photo by the Extremely Lovely James PB you can find more of his work here: )

So I just went to this wedding and it turns out it was totally not only Life changing but probably altered the state of reality to come. The realization snuck up on me some where in the middle of the service. I was standing there, watching Nick and Julian, the Husbands to be eloquently weaving words into vows when threw my sobs a realization most glorious descended upon me.

On that day I was a conduit for full body convulsing tears as I watched two fantastic men, surrounded by the people they love, Wed. Oh it was a Wedding dressed in more riotous colors then the spectacle of Heaven must be painted with. It was so vibrantly hued that the sky even grayed out of respect, to give us all a blank canvas upon which to spread our selves as visions. There was so much love in that field, not just for the two men on their plinth of wooden trunks, (though much of it was for them) but for all those whom surrounded them. It was a web of love, an interconnected nodal structure that combined community, expression and desire into one potent and heady mixture.

Talk about a venue. HELLLO farm house realness

Talk about a venue. HELLLO farm house realness. (Photo by Shaft from The Fabulus of Unicorns: )

I have hardly ever been moved so in my entire life. (Maybe the first time I saw Judy sing Battle Hymn of the Republic sort of showed me that I was capable of such a depth of feeling) Nicholas and Julian, you two have moved far beyond inspirational to me, you are truly more iconic.

But back to the world altering realization, If you want an exact point, it was some where around the point where Nicholas started looking in the crowd for the person whose cell phone was softly playing music, (it was his own.) that I understood in a primal way that this, this occurring in front of me was the gay wedding everyone on the Right (From the overly religious straight through to the bizarrely political)  were worried about.

Lady Tamsin, one of the most beautiful people the world will ever meet. As well as a sensational Best Man

Lady Tamsin, one of the most beautiful people the world will ever meet. As well as a sensational Best Man

It must be.

It was so ferociously fabulous there is no way it has not altered the state of history, I’m sure people have heard tell of the coming of this wedding for ages, and that’s what prompted them to make artful banners, in block caps, campaigning against gay marriage.

I never really liked math that much anyway But bonus points for a great type face.

Demons… Really…

Because we all have a secret and let’s ADMIT IT. There is a GAY AGENDA and it’s to making everything GAY and fucking fabulous, and take antiquated systems of oppression and exclusion and radically transform and give them a make over. And this wedding, well, I’m pretty sure it was the Gay Agenda made manifest. It was on that hill, on that wedding day that we laid out our collective vision for a gay future, and OH IT IS GLORIOUS.


These are some of the most inspiring people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Look at them! I FUCKING LOVE ALL OF THEM. (Photo by Shaft from The Fabulus of Unicorns: )

I’m so sorry straight people. The transition into a FULL GAY WORLD, may be hard for you. Don’t worry, as a group we are pretty good about dealing with it, and this time there will be no one to oppress you because we will all be GAY. I for one am happy to help you deal with the emotions that come up. But don’t worry I’ll you really need to do is listen to Shirley Bassey’s Performance albumn and everything will be as right as rain. Gay rain.

(and here by gay I mean culturally gay, not just men who sleep with men. As far as care you can be a woman who wants to sleep with people of any gender and still call your self gay, because gay is a state of mind not a sex act. Gay at its best is love, and support, and sequins.)

(and yes I recognize that there are like a million definitions for gay and for me, presently in this moment I am defining gay as all those principles associated with Rainbows, and Sunbeams, Oscar Wilde and Neil Bartlett, Baby Jane, Judy, Cher, camp as a vacuous aesthetic, camp as an aesthetic brimming with substance, you know gay as happy and divine, Gay as freedom.)

(We could also have a conversation on weddings as form of patriarchal oppression or gay weddings and assimilations culture, or whatever, and I am happy to have those conversations with whom ever wants to, its just presently I want to revel in gay glory, which I have to say, is something I fear we don’t do enough. GAY CULTURE IS AWESOME. This wedding was AWESOME)


WHATTTTT inspiration for EVERYTHING. (Photo by James PB)

WHATTTTT inspiration for EVERYTHING. (Photo by James PB)

I imagine now pictures of the wedding will filter out into the world and then the great flood of change will be witness across the land. It shall, like all divine plagues come swiftly and with out warning. One moment, some poor un-expecting straight person is going to be sitting around doing the quintessentially straight thing of lets say having a meal, and the next think, BOOM just like that, it will be a full on gay meal. With two salad forks and a strictly speaking unnecessary number of small cups that look like some alchemical decanter set. I Imagine being that the change will be instantaneous to full blown gay, this man, lets call him Jim, Jimmy now, won’t mind. Perhaps there will be a moment of longing as he looks towards some heterosexists magazine that overly objectifies women, and realizes that what he really wants to be doing is having a good old ki-ki (rooted in I statements and feeling words) before going off to a fantastic club night with his fantastic friends, to have a fantastic time.

Thank you Nick and Julian for not only throwing an incredibly party, but for kick starting the Gay Agenda. AND OH WHAT A WEDDING IT WAS, Oh the dancing, the delights, the revelry, the connections, the conversations, the moments.

Romy, Sarah and I. Two of my most favorite people in the entire world. (Group Selfie by Sarah)

Romy, Sarah and I. Two of my most favorite people in the entire world. (Group Selfie by Sarah)

I’m sure I shall be thinking about this weekend for weeks. But for now, this is all I have to say. That and thank you to Katie Craig, for that dance with you to WHEN I THINK ABOUT YOU I TOUCH MYSELF, was life altering. Thanks for that unexpected primal scream therapy session.

Anyway, I’m off to be really butch and indulge myself in a hedonistic fashion.

Love you Nicholas and Julian, thanks for changing if not everyone’s at least my world.

WEDDING! (photo by James PB)

WEDDING! (photo by James PB)


End of the world realness

I’m absolutely terrified that the world is currently falling apart. I read the news almost compulsively now, imaging that I will come across some seemingly innocuous news story and know that it is time to begin frantically prepping for the end of the world as we know it.


The inner horder in me is thrilled by this.  The part that I really enjoy imagining is stacking thousands of rows of can goods in my basement. In my dreams an entire wing of the place is dedicate to the canned fruit cocktail salad I use to love so much while away on summer trips in Maine.


I can almost taste the taste of not having eaten any exotic fruits for years. In this vision I’m looking nostalgically over the Hudson Valley, over my overgrowing fields of blueberry’s and blackberry’s and wondering wistfully if in some other place (for by this time all long distance communication technology will be gone) there is another faggot on a hillside somewhere looking out at rows of pineapples dreaming of a raspberry. I will be wearing a caftan and have an incredible up do. I imagine my Apocalypse fashion being very ‘Woman of the 70’s’ inspired. In some visions I’m drinking coffee, in others I’m drinking some homebrew tea, as the likely hood that I still have fresh coffee to hands years after this apocalypse is impractical and my day dreams at times like to import a small semblance of reality. (if the dream is coffee-less, I look very rugged and have on massive fuck me army boots, IF however in the vision I do have a mug of old joe I am wearing comically fuzzy and dirty bathroom slippers with bunny ears.)

I imagine the hardest part will be the 2 weeks to 3 months after the world begins to fall apart. Its for this reason that I have begun considering downloading breaking bad and 6 feet under, as I have heard both are great and having seen neither it might be nice to have some t.v. to take my mind off it all.  (Don’t worry my house runs off solar so hopefully I’ll still have the energy.) I suspect that there will be an unnecessary amount of fighting in the real world, and being not very good at this, I shall enjoy escaping into the DRAMA of a good show.

However once it all clear, once the dust settles, I think it might be very fun. I imagine Walmarts untouched by last minute shopping sprees where I, in 6 inch red stiletto heels and an open, sea foam green silk bathrobe roam the store. I shall weep performativity over specific cultural objects, such as Disney’s Ariel Princess barbie , for the first few weeks or months, in order to get my morning for humanity out of the way.

Once hardened by this outpouring of tears however I shall become unstoppable. I shall befriend the bears and the deer of the wild, I will learn to speak with Bees, I will finally look great in tank-tops.