proud(ness)

June 18, 2012

I have never been super open about my sexuality because I’ve never felt it was a big deal. I don’t wear it on my sleeve, I don’t choose to broadcast who I’m into at every waking moment, I don’t feel the need to shove the aforementioned broadcast down anyone’s throats… Let me just put things this way: if you like jazz music, our privates could potentially high-five. Whether you’re a pole or a hole (or neither) is essentially a non issue. I believe the whippersnappers call this sort of thing “pansexuality.” Urban dictionary claims that it’s all about eradicating gender binaries and blah blah 21st century nonsense; but basically, if our personalities gel, our junk can gel too. I don’t really care what kind of plumbing situation you’ve got going on downstairs.If you tell me you’re into Blossom Dearie or SNL and I’ll be turned on before you finish your sentence.

That said, I’ve always been more aesthetically attracted to ladies. Artistically and otherwise (so I’m finding out). This weekend was Pride in PDX. It got me thinking about a few things:

  1. People shouldn’t need an excuse to be physically affectionate with their partners. Excessive PDA from anyone is an instant exercise for my gag reflex; but if you want to hold hands, the Man shouldn’t have to design an event where it’s societally acceptable for you to do so. It kind of hurts my heart that I don’t see more people openly being themselves out in broad-anyfuckingtimetheywant-daylight. It’s not fair.
  2. The more time I spent walking around, the more I felt extremely out of place. I was chillin’ New York Style, (aka alone) and I just didn’t feel weird enough. Like I wasn’t expressing myself enough. (Let the record show that I was cruisin’ for a hot nerdy-Tina Fey type to be my new gf.)
  3. That got me thinking that I’m soooooooo misguided when it comes to how relationships work. I was literally tempted to go up to people and be like, “So, uh, I’ve never hit on a girl before, but you’re really pretty.”
  4. Which THEN got me to thinking, that (had I not been really sweaty and gross because it was hotter than Jack be-nimble’s fucking CANDLESTICK) I actually wouldn’t have been barking up the wrong tree! Such a relief! Typically I seem to be more of a fan of the long haired ladies, but I was like, “Damn. You’re beautiful. Damn, you’re beautiful too. DAMN. Y’ALL ARE SO BEAUTIFUL.”
  5. It basically all boiled down to human judgment, and the unfairness of hot weather and time constraint. Srsly. If I’d have had a bit longer to spend down there, I would have turned on my natural Geminian charm and worked some foxy-ass mojo.

In all seriousness though: beyond all of the overtly fabulous drag-queens, and the stereotypically butch looking women, I found a lot of supremely normal looking humans. This isn’t to say that the polarizations mentioned above aren’t supremely normal humans as well, but I personally have never been exposed to levels of sexuality that weren’t overtly stereotyped. (For example, I always feel like “no way she’s into girls because she probably has a hot boyf” kind of thing. This sucks, I’m working on it.)

I just don’t understand how some people can be treated like second class citizens when we essentially live in the best motherfucking country in the free world. I understand how people ARE treated this way; but what I don’t get is how other people can allow this sort of treatment to occur.

If I were to wrangle myself a Pygmalion, I don’t know if I’d be marching down the street with a rainbow flag screeching about how awesome pussy is; but I’d definitely be working on the sidelines to make sure everyone gets the equality they deserve.

Actually, once I typed that– I have no idea why I’m not doing it already~!

Hi. My name is Mac. I like to pretend to be a writer. What I mean by “pretend” is that instead of working on the next painstakingly beautiful great American novel, I have found a way to write fanfiction for Cagney and Lacey; Law and Order: SVU; ER; Nurse Jackie; and Crossing Jordan all with one tidy little plot. (My college education, hard at work!)

Over the years, I have received innumerable pieces of invaluable (and totally bogus) advice about what it’s like to be a true *writer*. What every writer should have in their toolkit, when the best time to write is, the cheapest and best kind of coffee to buy in bulk… Normally when getting said information, I’m surrounded by faux intellectuals scribbling this information down in their moleskins. “What I have is going to be so ~deep. It’s going to positively revolutionize American literature. SUCK IT.” Usually after getting this vibe from 98% of the a-holes I’m surrounded by, my face screws up into something Belushi-esque. My brows have a mind of their own sometimes, and normally they show it when surrounded by douchewads. This isn’t to say that a lot of my colleagues are douchewads, quite the opposite actually– I just am prone to eye rolling.

The best piece of information I’ve ever gotten is from one, Mr. Joseph Mazzarino (aka Joey Mazz) the head writer of Sesame Street.  After admiring the Bob and Doug McKenzie action figures  on his desk and accidentally letting it slip that I like to get blazed and watch Welk, he told me the greatest thing I’ve ever heard: WRITE WHAT YOU LOVE. I’ve since been keeping, and refining the list of things I love. It’s been fun! I’ll spare you the agony of sifting through an entire list of shit you’re not going to care about; but I’d implore all of you, (all 2 of you that read my damn blergh) to start keeping this list– and referring to it when you get a bout of writer’s block. It’s more helpful than you’d realize, actually.

The other thing I’d been thinking about in accordance with Joey’s cherry advice, is Austin Kleon’s book, Steal Like An Artist. He brings up an addendum to Joey’s love list that I hadn’t thought of: WRITE THE BOOK YOU WANT TO READ. I got to thinking, what would the perfect piece of consumable media entail? Conversely, what would the recipe for suicide induced consumption look like? I bring you the following:

*THINGS I LIKE* 

(AKA the perfect piece of consumable media in accordance with my taste)

  1. ROBOTS. There would be a lot of robots everywhere. DANCING robots even. 
  2. Syrupy romantic subtext. Preferably homosexual, because that always makes shit more interesting. 
  3. Hospitals. All the action would take place here. (By action I mean ~*~*~GAY SEX~*~*~.)
  4. A believable hero archetype that, while predictable, is still interesting. 
  5. In accordance with the previous sentiment, (or not) a badass friend or mentor that doesn’t bite the weenie. 
  6. (Unless [s]he is taking part in #3). 
  7. Someone has to be pregnant. Just because. 
  8. Just when you think the main character isn’t going to get what he, she or it (ROBOTS!) wants, THEY DO! I’m talking Edward Scissorhands level tears people. Get with the program. 
*THINGS I DISLIKE* 

(And should die in a hole)
  1. Trite, superfluous sentiment. Normally this occurs when the characters express /exactly/ how they feel. GAG. 
  2. The exposition 2’x4′. HEY! LOOK! LOOK! I DID THIS! MY MOM WAS AN ALKIE AND MY DAD BEAT ME! THIS IS USED TO EXPLAIN MY FETISH WITH AUTOEROTIC ASPHYXIATION IN A THROWAWAY SENTENCE! YAY! (Barf.)
  3. Unbelievable coincidence. That thing you need just happens to be here? Wowzer, what luck! This happened in the last paragraph! WHAT A COINCIDENCE! 
  4. Implausible wish fulfillment. In which, every chapter, the geeky male lead gets offered 10,000 blow jobs by each member of the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Pucker up, ladies! Either that, or [s]he’s too aloof for their own good. How’s the weather on planet douchenozzle? Cloudy with a chance of exasperated eye rolls and scattered groaning. Yee-ouch. 
  5. Breaking the rules of your predetermined universe instead of having your characters actually have to work for what they want and need because YOU’RE A LAZY SONOFABITCH. 

I feel like things like “basic grasp of grammar and syntax” go without saying, as they are pet peeves on most peoples’ lists. 
In any case, I’m thinking about actually writing the great Cagney&LaceyLaw&OrderERNurseJackieCrossingJordan fic. Bad idea?

Here’s hoping you’ll never read this:

Sometimes I dream about us,
doing us things.
Like shoe-fiving.

Your hair looks nice.
Everyone agrees.
I could say something dopey,

like “YOU COMPLETE ME”

and wipe the cry-liner
out of the crease of my lids.

I search for that song
I can’t think of.

I wonder why
my bag is so heavy.

I wonder if
I’ll get to thumb through your life
and ear mark the good parts,
so when I day dream about us

doing us things,

I can correctly assume
that you’d reciprocate
more than my desire
to call them “us things.”

It is weird.
Having to quell the

ACTUALLY I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU

energy.

ACTUALLY I DON’T HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU.
(Though sometimes I find that I do.)

ACTUALLY I DON’T THINK OF YOU NAKED.
(Not once.)

ACTUALLY I DON’T WISH WE WERE TOGETHER.
(Like that.)

CONSOLING EACH OTHER LIKE LOVERS DO.
(With hugs and tear wiping.)
(Then falling asleep during a movie
that neither of us were watching in the first place.)
(Calling you at three AM to say

HEY. I was thinking about you.)

but:

Sometimes I think about
the curves in your spine,
the absent wrinkles on your face,
and the words that drift out of your mouth.

I think about where you put your hands
how you choose what to wear in the morning,
what you do in your nothing moments,
and if you think of me sometimes.

I remember writing down
wishes
for us
when I was younger.

They sounded like crush wishes.
(They weren’t).

Here’s what:

I think I love you.
(David Cassidy)

I pretend we hang out all the time.
And you tell me secrets,
prefaced with
“DON’T TELL ANYONE THIS”
knowing I will anyway
and not caring besides.

I say things in a dull whisper
sometimes
but you listen
always.