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


I watch him there..his dark fairlight eyes aglow in the dark. Glimmer from the silver parts in his flesh momentarily blind me. He looks so evil in the dimness, yet somehow so innocent, the way that those lost boys always do. Puppy smiles and devil grins. Whiskey and candy cigarettes, vaseline winks and sugarcoated fist fucks....he’s the one your momma warns you about, but the one you take home to dad. You are never sure if he’s more focused on you, the song on the radio, or the bottle in his hand, and you like it that way.

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