HELLA GAY THO

Last week a friend of mine lamented that my blog "used to be gay," but was of late, "just fashion and interiors." I was taken aback—and I also felt a little bit guilty. I really haven't had time to sit down and tackle pretty much anything that's been on my mind recently, and not just because I have a 9-5 job to get through first. (And by 'get through' I mean 'give 110% to', don't get me wrong.) Then I read this piece that Rashida Jones wrote for Glamour.com, of all things, and I was all like, "Hell yeah, I wanna do more shit like this!" And then I was all like, *aneurysm* because I don't even know where I'd begin. I have like, six vlogs in me at this point just waiting to get out, but every time I think "I could do that now!" I just end up masturbating because fuuuuck, dude, doing shit takes so much effort and what if I forget my point halfway through my diatribe against OKCupid and then I'm just this guy who's been sitting alone in his room all afternoon talking to himself in front of a computer?

I am aware that more "gay" content has been less frequently updated than some might like and that not everyone wants to hear about how I'm wearing mittens for winter or why I'm repotting my baby cactus farm. But I'm working on it. I swear. And in the meantime, yes, I'm going to write about my #supercute bedroom makeover ideas because I like decorating my bedroom and obsessively think about it in between checking my Instagram to see if any hot Asian guys liked my selfies. (I make these jokes on purpose, I'm telling you.) Here's some proof that this blog is still a gay blog:

Ok, that's all—a brief update to let you know what's on my mind. And read that Rashida Jones piece I linked to! You won't regret it. (Even though it's not gay.) Photo Bruce Weber for CR Fashion Book.

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ON OWNING MY SEXUALITY

This outfit is what your grandmother might good-humoredly refer to as a “getup.” I think the effect achieved is a sort of Hasidic/Japanese cultural mash-up as reinterpreted by Mary-Kate Olsen. One guy actually said to me, “Shalom,” in passing. It’s a look not tied to any particular expression of my sexuality, a look that says, “I don’t need you to want to have sex with me. I don’t need to be conventionally attractive to feel good about myself!” And I owned that. I felt that. Until my train arrived and as I stepped onto the car, I saw the cute guy I’d given my number to some months before.

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GIVING FACE

This is a skirt that I picked up for $1 in a thrift shop. The tag just says, 'Made in Belgium'. I like to imagine it has fancy origins...look at that badass zipper! I paired it with my CDG blouson (seen here and here) et voilà! I've got a timely "gay" wedding outfit (well, once I find the right oversize clutch to take it to that next level.) Photos Anthony Urbano.

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

You're in luck! Seeing as it's Valentine's Day, I decided a new vlog was in order to talk about love and blahblahblah. You can watch it here. (I decided the video box looked too ugly to post on the blerg.) Enjoy!

ON PUTTING YOURSELF OUT THERE (ONLINE)

I'm not sure where to start this post, as it's coming from a place of indignation and frustration (indignant frustration?) and I don't want it to read as a rant. The other week I published another piece on The Huffington Post (you can read the first here) that was meant to be a tongue-in-cheek look at a year in my life without sex. People - or, rather, the subspecies Internet Commenteri - seemed to take it a bit differently. It got so bad that one thread compared me to Bill Clinton during the Lewinsky scandal. "His whole story is a lie," chimed in one reader (referring to my decision to define sex more narrowly as penetrative sex, for the purposes of a tagline - so sue me.) Others described my writing as, "self-absorbed" and "pointless"; "I couldn't even finish the article for yawning," said another.

There were just over sixty comments total and just about fifteen click-throughs to my blog. These people did not read my piece and then seek out my other essay on the site, nor did they make any attempt to better understand who I am as a writer - or human being - by contacting me via email or Twitter. It is 2012. It is not difficult to get in touch with someone and more than that, it is almost repulsively easy to get in touch with someone like me - someone with active accounts on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, YouTube and Flickr. My email address is in multiple places online. You can Google me. All of this takes just slightly more effort than being already logged in to your HuffPo account at work, feeling bored and lashing out at a stranger. A lot of the comments were weirdly aggressive and inflammatory - why would I dignify such vitriol with a response? Why did these people even bother to read the entire article? Why didn't they stop after the first paragraph when thinking, "this isn't my cup of tea"?

I showed the piece to some friends, some of whom liked it, some of whom were a little indifferent. Duly noted - moving on. It may not be my best piece, but it was an idea I had and I wanted to push myself to put it out there. I did. And then a bunch of people hated me. "Comment trolls" are a common digi-plague (you can read a Salon.com article about them here); I think the nicest thing I've ever heard about online forums for discussion is, "they make me lose faith in humanity." I know not to take the attacks personally, but it's hard not to be at least flabbergasted when the attacks are so personal. There's an immediate leap from, "I dislike this article," to, "I fucking hate the piece of shit who put this in front of my face." Newsflash, troll: you put it in front of your own face!

Getting ranty, I know...so here's the video (NSFW [language/sexual content]){Mom, that means don't watch this} I made to supplement the post, or at least better clarify the tone I meant to take when writing. What about you? Have you had to deal with comment trolls? Is my indignant frustration justified (say yes or I'll eat your face!)?

UPDATE: I feel I should mention that I did receive positive feedback via social media, Twitter in particular, and I really appreciate that! This post was to simply voice to my bewilderment at a phenomenon of sorts...not to focus on the negative. Thanks to all of you who were encouraging!

Click through to check out my vlog!

playing with balls (a brief athletic history)

I know, I know, such a crass post title! What can I say, it's all about SEO, people! Also, I am a homosexual writing about sports, what did you expect? #olympicmadness #hott #bods #bonerjamz

So I'm feeling compelled to write up my personal sports history, in honor of the Olympics. It's a brief history, mind you, but it's there nonetheless. My childhood forays into the Man Realm of competitive sports began, for some unknown reason, with baseball. I vividly remember standing in line to bat, I suppose at some little league try out, snickering and talking isht about the other boys' failed attempts to hit the ball (years 7-9 were my 'bitchy queen' years, apparently.) When I got up to the plate, the ball hit me in the shoulder and I promptly started crying and ran off the field. I am still embarrassed to this day for my father, who was standing in the sidelines undoubtedly thinking, "Ok, so it's probably safe to read into that Barbie birthday wishlist now."

I tried my hand at gymnastics when I was a bit older, maybe twelve? I was really into Mortal Kombat at this time and wanted to be able to run up walls and do backhanded flips or some shit. I didn't publicly shame myself in this instance, I just quit. Probably a bad idea, considering gymnastics is a bit more gay-friendly (I'm assuming? definitely more my-stature friendly) than baseball. I was on the track & field team and the cross country team my freshman year of high school, but I sucked at both because when I run, my legs get really itchy. What? It's a legitimate issue. Needless to say, I wasn't much of a competitor to begin with and on top of that, the only thing I remember from any of the meets at which I must have at least been in attendance is that I'm pretty sure my balls fell out of my running shorts when I was sprinting. Where was the #winning hashtag when I needed it? (Oh, another vaguely athletics-related memory? Changing in the locker room - oh, man! Dear Doug Thrasher, I was so into you as a fourteen-year-old. Is anyone from my Cali HS reading this? #memories)

Oh, man, I almost forgot maybe the most shocking of all - when I moved to Virginia I was on my high school's JV lacrosse team! What!? I literally only ever got on the field during a game maybe twice. I recall being scared. Nowadays I'm about as athletic as you would guess a kid who collected Beanie Babies would grow up to be. I like to tell people I, "do tennis," but I think my niche fitness market is playing dress up and scrolling through Tumblr. I might be out of shape...

Enjoy the Olympics, those of you who'll be watching! I'm at work this evening, but here's a link to Eddie and Patsy carrying the Olympic torch for posterity's sake.

Awesome photo by Bruce Weber, father of any and all sports imagery I have any reason to remember.

VLOGLOVIN'

Just a few screencaps from my webcam show last night, turned into the opening credit sequence of a 90's Nickelodeon show. I kid! I made a little video about dating, sort of...I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately, so it's pretty off the cuff. I'm not sure I have the energy to continue The Love Week tomorrow, I may need to just drink tea instead of shooting the faux lingerie campaign I envisioned, called "He Wears the Manties." Sorry about that.

LOVE IN BLACK AND WHITE

Aren't these such great vintage photos? They're from my little collection, all from my grandfather's time in the army. Despite the title, not one of these men is actually in a relationship with the other, but I think it's fun to imagine maybe there's something romantic going on, especially in that last one with the cat and dog - so cute! 

In all seriousness, it is incredibly important to me, as a gay person, to feel connected in some way to the past...to find comfort in history, since for us as a people there's often a bit much, erm, shunning and oppression. That's why I like finding out I have little things in common with my grandfather, be they as silly as a hat or a ring...they still draw that line between us that I think gay people don't always get to feel with their families. I'm really blessed to have such a supportive family and am trying to keep that in perspective. Happy love week!