Well, not being able to blog anything nice has not kept me from blogging anything at all. Ever. And yet, my Michele (with fun accents if he were Italian, which I know he thinks of at night) would love for me to talk about him until the ends of time. And I have many things to say. Good things. I think they are good things. Because they come from love, even though sometimes they are tethered to love with a ninja star or something... But at any rate, I just felt the need to put this piece up on my blog. It was inspired by him, as well as an amalgam of gay playmates, boyfriends, stylists, metaphysical foils, best friends, siblings, parents and progeny. And also this play, "Rip Me Open" that we are writing with Kyle J. and Brian M. I am excited.
I have been working with M-C-squared a lot... We just finished doing Grandmotherfucker & the Seducers, with Pat and Jack, an amazing show, which was hilarious, insightful, unpretentiously interconnected stand up by the four of us. I can say undoubtedly that this show has helped my stand-up comedy skills immensely. At Monday Night's Smut, I had this amazing set that surprised the hell out of me, as I was hung over on three hours of sleep from the Neo-Futurist benefit the night before and hadn't done my traditional afternoon and day-full-of-cigarette-breaks round of cramming for the show. I just did some jokes I had done before, and threw some new things in there, and just sort of talked. I didn't even stand, I just sort of lounged on the edge of my stool at my podium, with my notebook there for good luck (at one point, I was going to panic and glance down, but just continued into the next bit that came into my head, and started to make new sense out of old bullshit... it's weird forming my sets at Smut, cause it really harnesses my power for insight through filth, but really makes for a Non-Commercial persona... which is kind of what I want, I just fear that my life will somehow be dependent upon courting Catskills crowds).
Anyway, needless to say, things have been going swimmingly performance-wise. That's generally the only part of my life where things can go swimmingly. Ask some of the attendees of Smut on Monday to find out about how great things are in my personal life.
But I digress from the initial point, which is that I wanted to share this piece with the 5 of you (whoo-hoo, already 5 readers... I cannot believe it, where is my Random House book deal?). I first read it at Smut this past Monday, and even impressed my friend's "alpha-male" (her description, not mine) boyfriend. Apparently it's a situation everyone can understand.
You are my gay daddy, that's what you are.
You are the top to my jar all bottled up
Letting off steam I didn't know I could build.
Slaps from your thick flesh on thin skin have goaded me through ugly things.
You smelled the sweetness of my humiliation.
You smell my fear I think. Like a pit bull licking busted chops.
In all of my discoveries, I have discovered you.
Waiting in the room.
At the fireplace.
With matches. And a troubled face. Like your conclusion was my curfew.
And you reached it way before I had a chance to go out and play.
For the street lights to come on.
All the judgments I have learned not to hear in my head you make
Like the slightest blinking alarm piercing through the darkness.
I relearn all my womanhood with you nipping and tucking at me.
Just like mom used to do
Making me feel dirty
Just like dad used to do.
And I know my place
Because you create it and say, "Challenge!"
And I am left staring at my emptiness presented to me. I am ashamed and
I spring to action.
And the game continues although I am panting. I am sweating
I think I am having a heart attack. I am swearing at you. I hate you
And I want you to feel it. But you are not listening to me. You poke me for sulking and check your cell phone.
I am older than you or we are the same age
Growing in different directions
I am growing up and you are growing out and I keep finding new places
In the space we contain. New holes we knock in the wall. You push
And all of me that pushes back is the only part that makes a difference.
You are my gay daddy, and I am so much your bitch that I'll keep doing exactly what you say and never get laid for it. Never get the winnings I've earned.
Never fully succumb. Just keep caving slowly, crumbling into finer and finer powder laid out in razored rows for a nonplussed nose.
But see how fine I have become.
I like to feel ravished.
You know what I mean.
We both squirm in the face of each other.
High-pitched whimpers that want to be taken
Growls that want gravel and substance
A tickle that shakes our heads. No.
At the heart of our matter there is the betrayal, at the end of the day, with the purple and scarlet sky, kneeling at the feet of mushroom clouds, ducking the locusts in a pastoral scene of apocalypse. At the end of all things, when worse comes to worse.
And you would not.
In our natures we are twisting.
You are trying to make it up to me with seduction.
Wrapping me around your finger like ribbon
So I can feel beautiful and pink. Useable. Used.
You know how I like it.
How light and petty our heads swing back as we approach
As if to kiss
As if to butt heads in a field
You are running so fast I can't tell if I am moving or not.
But I am
Because you are smiling
And I want to make your nose bleed.
I would love to see you cry.
I would hold you, you know.
And find out if I could trust you. See the places where my mark cradled you.
And burn them in.
It's just the closeness of you
That makes me melt in from the center of my thighs.
Do you love me? Do you want to be me? Do you want to be in me?
Oh. You don't.
Do you love me?
Do you want to be me?
Do you want to be in me?