Today was a boring day at work so I turned into a bird and flew in circles around the Empire State Building. 

1 year ago 36 notes #GPOY
Whoa, do you guys remember when I was tumbling from Paris in 1988? 

Whoa, do you guys remember when I was tumbling from Paris in 1988

Do you guys remember how I went to a party uptown last month, got 110-percent trashed, tortured the hosts into downloading “Brimful of Asha” so that I could dance my ass off like it was 1998, and finally ended up stumbling home on Riverside Drive at like 4:00am? Neither do I, but here’s the evidence. (Photo by Alia Younes)

Do you guys remember how I went to a party uptown last month, got 110-percent trashed, tortured the hosts into downloading “Brimful of Asha” so that I could dance my ass off like it was 1998, and finally ended up stumbling home on Riverside Drive at like 4:00am? Neither do I, but here’s the evidence. (Photo by Alia Younes)

I wrote a fairly long piece on my hockey-playing past, not so much because I want to be like “guess what, fuckers, gays can play hockey too” (although that’s part of it, I guess, whatever, I can’t deny it), but more because I think in general it’s important to document the past (our pasts) in a way that obliterates the “mainstream narrative,” which of course is pretty easy, it’s basically like a giant, helpless balloon that you can pop almost by looking at it. (The problem being that there are ten billion balloons that need to be popped.) It’s sort of like what Chris Kraus says in I Love Dick w/r/t women: “What happens to women now is the most interesting thing in the world because it’s the least described.” Which I think is equally true of gays (not to mention ethnic minorities and pretty much any other non-white, non-male, non-straight/marginalized group you can come up with.) Anyway, click through if you want to read about when I was a (gay) kid playing hockey.  

I wrote a fairly long piece on my hockey-playing past, not so much because I want to be like “guess what, fuckers, gays can play hockey too” (although that’s part of it, I guess, whatever, I can’t deny it), but more because I think in general it’s important to document the past (our pasts) in a way that obliterates the “mainstream narrative,” which of course is pretty easy, it’s basically like a giant, helpless balloon that you can pop almost by looking at it. (The problem being that there are ten billion balloons that need to be popped.) It’s sort of like what Chris Kraus says in I Love Dick w/r/t women: “What happens to women now is the most interesting thing in the world because it’s the least described.” Which I think is equally true of gays (not to mention ethnic minorities and pretty much any other non-white, non-male, non-straight/marginalized group you can come up with.) Anyway, click through if you want to read about when I was a (gay) kid playing hockey.  

Hey, Stephen and I met and started dating (in the non-heterosexual sense of the word) 13 years ago today, which for all intents and purposes makes today our “anniversary”! (For those interested in reading about how we met, I wrote about it for Gawker a few years ago when Sheila McClear started Gay Modern Love in response to the other one we all love to hate.) I feel lucky to have been with a hot gay bear someone I love and respect and admire for so long, because I know it’s not exactly easy to meet people (and shoot me if I ever insinuate that it’s better to be coupled than not) and god knows I’m not always the easiest person in the world to live with L.o.L. We’re going to Red Rooster in Harlem tonight to celebrate, and it’s supposed to be kickass (this is the place where the NYT reviewer was like: “OMG you guys, s000 much racial diversity!”), so I’ll be sure to let you know!

Hey, Stephen and I met and started dating (in the non-heterosexual sense of the word) 13 years ago today, which for all intents and purposes makes today our “anniversary”! (For those interested in reading about how we met, I wrote about it for Gawker a few years ago when Sheila McClear started Gay Modern Love in response to the other one we all love to hate.) I feel lucky to have been with a hot gay bear someone I love and respect and admire for so long, because I know it’s not exactly easy to meet people (and shoot me if I ever insinuate that it’s better to be coupled than not) and god knows I’m not always the easiest person in the world to live with L.o.L. We’re going to Red Rooster in Harlem tonight to celebrate, and it’s supposed to be kickass (this is the place where the NYT reviewer was like: “OMG you guys, s000 much racial diversity!”), so I’ll be sure to let you know!

Here’s a picture of me and two ladies waiting to get onto the bus at Port Authority, which as you’ve probably heard or experienced is one of the most hellish places in Manhattan.

Here’s a picture of me and two ladies waiting to get onto the bus at Port Authority, which as you’ve probably heard or experienced is one of the most hellish places in Manhattan.