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.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

December...

I'll finally try to sleep...the alcohol thinning of my blood, a last gasp attempt at being numb...the moving furniture and the stink of cheap beer, the shallow laugh track and remote controlled fingers, all a feeble distraction from what has led up to this...the defining moment...the time I knew I should dread, but still convinced myself was tolerable. Do you know that I put them on to drown out the silence? Do you somehow feel it? The suede banshees attempting to cure me of the lies I spent the whole night telling myself...there is something in that silence that I don't want to hear. Something that I pray that you hear too...something in that last beating picture of you that I cling to, as I stare at the ceiling, and pretend to understand.
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