Rex Murphy took the dull, simple aria of white male grievance and turned it into operatic psychodrama. It’s been SO LONG since I posted here—I thought I would take a mental health break, but ultimately decided to run with the crazy—I’m anxious, completely disoriented, and basically behaving like my IQ is in single digits. I’m … Continue reading The King is Dead…
Category: LGBT
My First Hook-Up in Ottawa Got a Little Out of Hand
just another, good ol' Canadian « exposition de merde » ! Hey followers, hangers-on and random stumblers-upon, sorry I’ve been MIA but it’s hard work fending off all the convoy dudes with one hand tied behind my back and a can of Molson in the other. Yeah, that was all my fault, that snafu in … Continue reading My First Hook-Up in Ottawa Got a Little Out of Hand
The Limits of Funny and the Whiteness of Money
Dave Chappelle’s shameful trans bashing might be “humor that was never intended for white audiences anyway.” Except even then, it’s just shameful trans bashing. Full confession: I haven’t watched Dave Chappelle’s Netflix special, “The Closer.” And I don’t intend to. As a gay man who’s known he was gay from the age of eight, believe me, I’ve had … Continue reading The Limits of Funny and the Whiteness of Money
Facebook Life Event # 302: Scary Weird Coincidence
So I managed to fool someone, via photographs from 1982, into thinking I'm handsome and desirable and that they should spend the better part of a sultry night caressing my eyebrows, following my treasure trail—currently overgrown and littered with cigarette butts and empty Coke cans—and exclaiming with delight, either real or feigned, I'm not fussy, … Continue reading Facebook Life Event # 302: Scary Weird Coincidence
Talkin’ Sh*t about Sch*tt’s Creek, White Boy Rappers and Black Homophobia
stop clutching your pearls and own up AS MY FREQUENT VISITORS ARE well aware, I like to solve the world's problems in my inimitable way, or at least point them out if there's no financial incentive and I don't feel like changing out of my bathrobe, by wielding the almost supernatural influence of this blog. … Continue reading Talkin’ Sh*t about Sch*tt’s Creek, White Boy Rappers and Black Homophobia
“Maksim Gorky Pretends to be a Dom at the Bathhouse”
A serious(ly gay) interlude. After a few sleepless nights of quasi-Christian prayer (by quasi-Christian I mean that I cherry pick all the heart-warming bits and the foodie miracles and the Late Night Talk Show on the Mount, and leave out: the whole crucifixion-resurrection boondoggle, sorry, not goin' there;anything icky like leprosy or raising from the … Continue reading “Maksim Gorky Pretends to be a Dom at the Bathhouse”
It’s Official: I Am a Horrible Person
Hey, it's you guys who insisted on thinking of me as "nice." SOMETHING HAPPENS WHEN YOU HIT sixty, or, to make this as painfully specific as possible, the last couple of months of sixty-four-ness. That's right. On September 21st, 2020, I will officially be sixty-five years old. And what happens is me, unmoored. I've cut … Continue reading It’s Official: I Am a Horrible Person
An event for your calendar…
(if you're in, or can make it to, Toronto this November 15th.) FECKLESS BOY THAT I AM, I HAVE NEGLECTED all this time to arrange a real, bona fide grown-up publicity campaign for my book. This means that my method of selling my book to date has been to purchase copies and give them to … Continue reading An event for your calendar…
HARD DRIVE
I had blitzed your sectors completelyBut all this time you've surviveddiscretely Interred in my one-terabyte drive: Knight jonesing for escape, five fingersdismissingPassion, fondling my door handle,kissingGoodbye our too-easy improvisation. I conjure desperate devious strategies:Charms, supplications, jammed connections, elegies,Viral replications, heartfelt blackmail.Impatient, lover? Hanging in thedelusionOf my blue-screened doorway, our fungiblecollusion Of dull bruises, ragged tears? … Continue reading HARD DRIVE
Jazz for insomniacs
for James H. IF WE WERE POSSIBLE—Christ, what a thought! — it would have to be in some other continuumstrung out in time between Lost In Spaceand Planet of the Apes— the original, not the remake— where my love like giantNoma bulbs leaks Red Green Bluepure Christmas colors onto snow;it would have to be suspended in aspic somewhere … Continue reading Jazz for insomniacs