The New Jerusalem

I love a parade

This year, president bush refused to issue a delcaration recognizing Gay Pride week. Then, during gay pride week the supreme court overruled the ban on sodomy laws, Strom Thurmond died, and they announced plans for a Golden Girls reunion show. Yeah, looks like God decided to overrule bush on this one.

Eracism

In the past year there was this movie "How High", about how crazy it'd be if two black guys got into Harvard Law. Then there was this movie "Malibu's most wanted" about what it'd be like if a white guy becoming a rapper. After watching those two, I've got the best concept: A movie about how crazy it'd be if black people and white people could drink out of the same drinking fountain. It'd be crazy. "Dang, don't this motherfucker make kool-aid." "Oh my god, muffy, there's a negro here, he probably wants to steal from us."

Liberation!

In the wake of the Lawrence v. Texas decision, I think it's key to emphasize the broad impact of the decision. Sodomy doesn't just exist so gay men can have sex. No, you can also make rope out of it.

But I only have anal sex for medical reasons. I've got a prescription. I have gaucoma. of the testacles. The sodomy helps relieve the fluid pressure.

log

I should be writing today. Writing more, but events of last night, and of today have conspired to make me ODD. Maybe I'm just too tired to write anything. But i'm..... Kennedy makes me want to write about nothing but gays and how I feel in this glorious moment, and what Heather said last night... it makes me want to run away and try to be mr. technical and put together lame, milquetoast material. I'm at sixes and sevens.

log

Last night I intended to blog full of rage and ire. A club owner basically told me I was too gay and "out there" for her room. It made me quite astoundingly angry. A bit with her: I'm a good comic, she should believe in giving people good comedy of any flavor. But mostly, mostly with an america that was still scared of me. That still disapproved of me.

Then my friend Justice Kennedy came along and said he was sorry. For Bowers, for everything. And log, i must tell you, i feel really good.

I am a canibal
I sip the souls of dead potatoes
shifting through bubbles
and sharing their clarity.

I eat flesh, the flesh of the inside
the meat of truth in
scandinavian syrup.

I see through the drink,
through the meat into myself
through the hate and tarted eyes
into a truth told twixt our bones
into the song of souls sold together
and lumps of life share
all they know of death.

in a cup.

I am a liquor in a safeway sugar free clear beverage
I am cold and my essense mingles with what is around me
but i retain something I cannot quite say
but the potatoes remind me it's
fun.

Viewership

I can have a really clinical, removed, objective approach to life. It's like I'm just sort of watching everything around me but never really do anything. Most people think this is because i'm very intelligent and cerebral. Truth is, I mainly have just never quite figured out that life isn't a TV show.

I'm feeling slightly less shitty about the world than I did last week. Is it as little as a good set that keeps me going? Is comedy my imperfect meds? Getting to have a Protein burger yesterday was fun. Mmm, nothing more charming than a diary entry about meat. I suppose I'm doing ok. As I recede from anger and overwhelming subjectivity, i return to a state of viewership. hmmm.... viewership.

The Knowledge of Good and Evil

Anti-gay bias is an odd issue for me. It's not like people are coming up to me and calling me faggot and bashing me. I would break them. It's more people around me saying little things that imply there's nothing on earth worse than be a queer.

Fuck that, fuck that right in the ass, and i can, because i'm a fruit. I can fuck any hole in america and never feel bad, because i'm a fruit. I can walk down the street singing show tunes, I can wear a neckercheif, I can dress up like bette midler, I can get any girl to let me touch her boobs, I can walk up to a urinal and look over at the man of my dreams and why? Because I'm a cocksucking, dick licking, faggoty queer FRUIT. I'm nature's candy.

Bee Mine

My female friends all love to sit around and drink and gossip and criticize each other "sex and the city" style. Which is fine, I just think, while they're at it, they should turn out a Quilt.

Quilting is the new Yoga.

I'm feeling unrewarded in comedy. Not unrewarded by the process, I love my audiences. They are like my CHILDREN. mainly because they don't have microphones and thus aren't allowed to talk back to me. I appear to be at a magical point where i can't figure out whether my failure to see results is the product of some unseen inadequacy in my art, or whether i've simply reached the point where it's more convenient for people to not recognize i exist, because... you know...

I'm a flavor.

I'm a kind.

and not one of those COOL kinds that stereotypically have big dicks and are good at basketball that white guys WOULD want to be friends with. Nah, i'm one of the OTHER kinds. Possibly the worstest kind. I put balls in my mouth.

not that often. I consider the balls to be "support staff". They're downstairs. I don't want to see them.

My mom tells me that my telling her i'm a homo is like if the dog started walking backwards. she just doesn't know how to deal with it. Well, i feel like I don't have the time to deal with her or anyone else's confusion or disapproval. I'm dying just as quickly as all of you, I have to get my stuff done and i don't need people with screwed up preconceptions getting in the way.

Arc

One feels vaguely as though one were at the end of the second act of a film. You know, when the conflict has risen and the main character is at a particularly low point, and then in the next act, she creates a clear plan to rectify her situation. I have no such plan.