LAMENT #2

When we were young, it was soft. We never dealt with tedium like we do now.
It was like we were threaded together on a Chinese loom, so tight. I’d never fall asleep worried about what you’d do the next morning. We jelled, as one may say today.
I never recognized how special our situation was, until my habits really started to effect you. The way you’d react after those nights of drinking cheap beer. My corndog breath exploding into an all day fight. I see it all so clear now. You were over it before it even began. My immature brain didn’t think you were worth sacrificing my new fun life. I refused to listen to your reason, your screams, your cries. I promise you it’s loud enough now. I sit here, suffering, listening to the echo of your pain inside me. I’d love to shout, “I’M SORRY!” I’d love to make amends. I’d love if we were even just friends.
It’s awful in this state, kicking myself everyday for what I’d did to you. I’ve cut all ties and broken your faith, there’s nothing I can say, nothing I can do, and all I want to do . . . is POO..

Bad dinner, good story

The Mrs. and I had dinner with a friend tonight. He's has two brothers, he and the youngest are both Gay. At the age of 15, his gay brother had this habit of prank calling people and talking dirty to them. One of his 'victims' was an older amputee, a Vietnam vet. The vet seemed to be into these calls and they became a regular thing. After a while, these secret calls became not so secret when someone from the phone company knocked on the door. He explained to my friends parents that the vet was trying to press charges against his brother. The visitor also said that the vet would not press charges if my friends brother and his parents would come over and listen to all the calls, as the vet had recorded each one.
So, this awkward teen, seeing how far his sexuality would stretch, had to go with his parents and listen to recordings of him talking dirty to some crazy amputee. . .
Tragic.

Our friend went on to tell us that his Gay brother is now a "blond ken doll" hairdresser in Boca Raton.

This is nice, a really nice time. . .

I got to NY. This is finally happening. Not as though I've always wanted to live here, I just figured I would some day. As I stare down at the homos trolling 8th Ave., I'm thinking back to the Castro and how I've managed to live in the two GAYEST places in the country (if I move to W. Hollywood, FIRE ME).
Oh, and I don't remember writing that last post, but I kinda like it, so it stays.
I love R. Walker.

nuance and understanding!

Randy Walker is HUGE!!! (this line is me dismissing everything I feel and exploiting my fat friend just to make me look good). . .

SLAM POETRY ON RANDY WALKER. . .

She’s an enigma, a dilemma, a viper venom enema. A hyper faggy pedigree vomiting her bacon philosophy, that is, when she talks, all I see, is bacon. . .
My memory shows that I slapped, spit on and screamed at her for no reason. Maybe it’s the universal treason she believes in. All the world screams when I lean in to inflict a mean thing, on her.
Show me the diet, the full proof self-righteous plan for forgiveness. I’ll present a blessed talent, so grounded, the guy on the other side of the seesaw has found the sky.

Across from the Eiffel Tower . . .

Check out this SUPER GAY statue. I hear a latino queen with a deep-ish voice saying, "Who want's to ride my STEEED??"
Even ancient breeders wouldn't throw down a 'tea kettle' that fierce.

I went to the Louvre. . .

EWWW, GIRL! . . . LOOK AT THOSE SANDALS!