Young, hung, and full of vitriol...

I can't offer works of staggering genius, but what you will get are my sometimes funny, questioningly intelligent, frighteningly vitriolic, occasionally shockingly sweet, but almost always charmingly grouchy ramblings on music, film, politics, society, pop culture, literature, queer life, travel, Kansas City, and the mundane, yet surreal aspects of everyday.

I'm a queer punk country boy in his late 30s, who has settled back in the midwest after a decade or so of living around the country. My boyfriend, MJ and I moved to Kansas City a couple of years ago after an insanely surreal life in rural, southeast Kansas. This is my attempt at getting back into writing after a longer than anticipated hiatus. I'm still a bit rusty, so be gentle with me...A bottle of wine, some Barry White, and a can of Crisco usually does the job.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

He puts my face in the mirror. The looks reflected back at me full of lust and desperation, hope and angst. The same look that says...”Your dreams will never come true...” When you live your life as a dreamer, reality has a way of seeping in like wrinkles on an aging face. It’s something you never think about, even as 3 AM broadcasts it’s endless playback. Then one day, you are brushing your teeth, and it bares it’s ugly fangs. And like a kick in the groin, it tells you that your youthful cynicism and disdain weren’t just carefully cultivated sexiness...they were preparation.

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