Happy Sunday.
It’s not exactly a ‘blooper’ reel. I just had all this footage lying around that I pieced into a video.
It’s a weird. I put a bunch of strange stuff together. There’s popular comic, Ben Lerman, a homeless incontinent man, and me noodling around on a PIEFOLK shoot.
It was a weird day, today. I posted a weird video.
Sue me.
Or don’t.
I don’t care. Jerks.
Him: This bar is crowded. Wow.
Me: Yeah. I remember when there used to be like, 60 people here, tops, on a Friday night. It’s become a destination. Or a bunch of Gays have moved to Williamsburg, maybe.
Him: What about Williamsburg would attract a lot of gays?
Me: Just a certain type of Gay, I guess. Different types of Gays live in different neighborhoods, it seems…
Him: Really? I’m oblivious I guess.
Me: Yeah, I think so. You’ve got a pretty face, by the way.
Him: A compliment. I bet you say that to all the boys.
Me: I do, yes.
(pause)
Him: What?
Me: I compliment boys, when I go on a date with them, yes. At, least, if I want to try to kiss them later, I do.
Him: That doesn’t make me feel special.
Me: I know! Imagine how I feel! I told you you’re pretty and I was made to suffer for it.
Him: I don’t want to feel like you’re just complimenting me because you’re going to try to kiss me later. I don’t want to feel like there’s an agenda attached to it.
Me: You’re right. Next time I have a stray thought about you being attractive, I’ll keep it to myself.
(pause)
Him: So, different Gays live in different neighborhoods?
Me: That’s right. I think so, at least.
Him: Okay. This is a fun game. What kind of Gays live in Hell’s Kitchen?
Me: Middle Management Gays, Chorus Boy Gays, and Fashion Fags.
Him: Hm… That explains the attitude.
Me: Exactly. To them, cunty is a sport. If you’re not playing the cunty game, you’re not feeling well that day. It’s a language that they speak.
Him: I know. I’m fluent.
Me: Aren’t we all? But do we have to choose to communicate that way?
Him: Some of us think it’s fun. Upper East Side?
Me: Retired Journalist Homos, Antique Store Fags, Trust Fund Queers that don’t know how cool Tribeca is.
Him: West Village?
Me: Graphic Design Homos, Young MTV Exec Pansies, Elderly Queers with Rent Control.
Him: Williamsburg?
Me: NYU Poofs, Wanna Be Art Fags, Assholes With Pie Blogs.
Him: Ha. You are an asshole.
Me: Thanks. You’re super charming.
Him: Do you say that to all the boys?
Me: Only when I’m lying.
(pause)
Him: Bushwick?
Me: Actual Art Fags, Small Business Owner Homos, Gay Bait with Bed Bugs.
Him: Wow. You’ve got it all figured out, huh?
Me: Obviously not. I’m a homo of a certain age, and I live next to a highway.
Him: What do you DO for a living?
Me: I waste other people’s time.
Him: What?
Me: Just kidding. I do comedy. Which is frivolous. It’s entertainment. Which is a waste of time.
Him: Oh I don’t think so.
Me: Me neither. I just like the way it sounds coming out of my mouth. ‘I waste people’s time for a living.’ I love your hair. You have amazing hair.
Him: Gross, I haven’t washed it in a while.
Me: Sorry. You’re right. Your hair is disgusting.
Him: NO! That’s not what I meant!
Me: I know. I’m just reacting to your sarcasm in a literal way. It’s the only weapon people have against sarcasm. I’m really sarcastic, and the only thing that penetrates that sarcasm is when people take it (faux) seriously.
Him: Really?
Me: Drives me up a wall. Maybe it’s the lighting in here, but man, your skin is wow.
Him: Shut up. I have a zit.
Me: Third time. That’s the third time.
Him: Third time what?
Me: Third time that I’ve complimented you and you’ve told me to shut up or rebuffed me in some way.
Him: Sorry. I’m just not used to people going around giving compliments to each other.
Me: Not even on dates?
Him: No.
Me: That makes me sad.
(long pause)
Him: Let’s just play our name game.
Me: Okay.
Him: What kind of Fags live in Gramercy?
Me: Stephen Sondheim.
Drawing by Brendan Lahey
Hey Michael,
Before we get into me, let’s talk about how amazing PIEFOLK is. It deserves to always be spelled in caps and in bold letters because it makes me smile. Your food is delicious and the friends you cook with seem like a great bunch. Thank you for being as sarcastic and funny as always and bringing joy to my RSS feed.
Now, what I’d love some insight on is my initiative with guys. I seem to always be the one to put forth effort into wanting to hang out and make plans. I’m not one to play games and maybe that’s here the problem lies? I don’t want to do some dance of withholding emotions in lieu of just saying what I’m thinking/feeling. At first I thought maybe I was just too available, even though that’s a subjective opinion but I feel maybe I just make time for people I think are worthy of it and maybe I shouldn’t hand out my free time so easily? Another thought of mine is maybe I’m not so secretly attracted to the guys who aren’t as up front about how they feel and like to play games and lead me on. Maybe I just have too many questions and am in my head too much?
Hit me with your best remedy for a summer of less time given away to those not interested and possibly your thoughts on how to avoid the pattern in the future?
J
J,
Thanks for all your nice compliments. It’s really encouraging to hear people talk like that about my site. Thank you. Sincerely.
Okay, so you pride yourself that you’re not the type of person to play games. Great, that’s refreshing to hear. But most people like to play courtship games. They like the subtle mating dance that seems to go along with dating someone. It’s okay for you to opt out of that, but that just means you’re going to have to search a little harder to find the person you’re looking for: another person who doesn’t play games.
Are you making yourself too available? I’d suspect that you’re probably telegraphing your availability too much, too soon after meeting someone. Mind you, that’s only a feeling I’m getting after reading a letter. But you might be sending out ‘I like you – let’s give this a try’ vibes that are being interpreted as being more needy than you intend them to be. You don’t want someone to feel like they’ve nailed it down by the end of the second date. Because most people want more of a challenge than that. They want to discover they like you slowly, over time.
It could be that you’re really good at pinpointing the type of person/personality that you gel with, but if you really want to keep from screwing the pooch, err on the side of making yourself the commodity. Make the other person prove to you that they would be a good boyfriend. Take a month and play the field. Kiss as many boys as possible, and see who’s calling and what your options are.
Why zero in on one person and make them the object deserving all your affection? Make the person that eventually gets all of you prove they deserve it. Remember. You’re the commodity. You’re the hot ticket item. I’m not saying to act arrogant (I’ll take care of that for both of us), I’m saying to act confident. You’re a strong, vibrant young man.
When it becomes apparent that the right young man has manifested in your life, take a deep breath and take it slow.
Until then, play the field.
Jerk.
xoxoxoxo,
Michael
Little known fact: I’m dating everyone.
It’s true. It’s evolved into my motto for 2011.
I’m dating everyone.
I was in long term relationships for pretty much all of the aughts, and I’m taking a breather this year. I’m feeling emotionally worn out, to be honest, and I’d like to focus on my work.
Is that okay with you? More in a second. I’m going to talk about chocolate for a second, and then juxtapose it with a poop joke.
Chocolate covered pretzels are super easy.
Just temper a buncha chocolate. That means add heat to it, in a double boiler. Use a double boiler so you don’t scorch the chocolate.
If you don’t have a double boiler you can make one with a metal bowl and a pot of water.
Figure it out. I’ll wait here while you do fifteen seconds of internet research to find out about Double Boilers.
So, yeah, I’m Dating Everyone. Did I tell you? I told you? Good. I am.
It’s become the thing I say when people condescendingly ask me why I don’t have a boyfriend.
‘I’m Dating Everyone,’ I say. And yes. I’m smug and arrogant when I answer the question.
“At your age, with your personality etc. I can’t imagine you having to be single? Don’t you have a boyfriend?“
No. I don’t. Nor do I want one.
I don’t like your implication, that people have to either be coupled up or cower in fear of being forced to live out their golden years with nothing to support them but their own thoughts and musings. Perish the thought I actually get some peace and quiet in my retirement. Just kidding. I’m never retiring.
My grandmother’s single. She seems to be having a good time of it. She’s been single for 20 years since my Grandpa died. She likes to do puzzles.
Do you honestly think everyone is wandering around, desperately trying to find the ‘missing half’ of themselves that will make them whole? I hope not. Sounds like a good way to waste time you should have spent pooping and writing shows, and baking for lovely people.
And pooping, darling. And all that pooping. Everyone knows, people in relationships don’t poop.
It implies that you’re not good enough on your own, and most of you are!
The rest of you, I dunno… Get a boyfriend, I guess. Quickly.
But for me, that person will either turn up or he won’t. I’m not looking.
I don’t like the implication that at my age I should really settle down. And if you ask me, I’m Dating Everyone will be what you hear, with varying degrees of smugness attached to it, depending on how I’m feeling at the moment.
Isn’t that precious?
No. It’s not.
It’s arrogant. I think arrogant behavior can be funny, though. I’m really arrogant and humble and arrogant. And grateful. I feel grateful pretty often.
I feel really arrogant sometimes too, when I’m onstage or when I’m writing my blog and things are going well. I feel arrogant sometimes when I’m directing or coaching comedy and I’m getting through to the actors. I also feel humble in those moments. If I nail an improvised song, or a written sketch at Maude Night, or an audition, I feel arrogant. Bulletproof.
But there’s always a humble part of me that knows that the important ingredient, the x factor that makes any actor special, just comes and goes whenever it wants. If I practice more and work more, it comes more often, but it still can leave whenever it feels like it. That makes me feel humble. And arrogant. And humble.
And sometimes shy. Don’t ask. That’s a whole other can of worms.
I’m not sorry for being humble or arrogant. It’s part of the process I go through to do comedy and music. It sucks a little, but I don’t think I would trade it for anything at all. It doesn’t suck a lot more often. I have talented friends who care about me, and I get to share the stage with the best comedy minds of my generation. I get that. That’s what luck and hard work and life has given me. It’s a gift and it’s mine, and it’s not for anyone else but me. And that makes me feel humble. And arrogant.
I’m pretty sure I’m not harming anyone by trying to make people laugh, except the feelings of my closest friends, once in a while, when I think I’m being funny (and I am) but I’m also inadvertently acting like a Jerk.
And my friends know that about me, and don’t make me apologize for it. I don’t have a whole lot of close friends, but the ones I do have are excellent human beings. I could have done much worse.
Darling, see what happens? I start talking about my favorite subject (poop) and I get off topic.
Chocolate Covered Pretzels. Temper the chocolate. Drizzle the pretzels. Toss. Refrigerate. You’re done. Take them out after 10 min, or they run the risk of getting ashy looking, like the Elderly.
You’re a superstar! You made candy! Share it with your friends!
But don’t ask me who I’m dating. It’s arrogant, but I’m still going to say it: I’m Dating Everyone.
Ever so humbly, that is.
Jerks.
Here’s some photos that were too racy, or weird, or extraneous to make it into the entries they were intended for. Plus, here’s a conversation I had yesterday about our fair Lady Gaga.
What?
The post is called Odds and Ends. Get off my back.
I’m kidding. Stay there.
Him: Typical you.
Me: What?
Him: You cozied up to that man at the bank.
(short pause)
Me: I sure did, didn’t I? I didn’t even need to. I was just showing off.
Him: Why did you do that?
Me: Practice?
Him: That sounds about right.
(Pause. We look at each other. He looks the same as ever. He’s different though.)
Him: What else is new?
Me: I have a house guest. I have an amazing house guest.
Him: Oh yeah?
Me: That’s right. A very talented young man. His boyfriend, as it turns out, is very unkind, and likes to act abusive.
Him: Oh! So you’ve taken on a ward.
Me: Sarcasm will get you everywhere. No, it’s not a ward. He’s just sad and sweet… he needed to stay with me for a few weeks. He’s young.
Him: Of course he is.
Me: Stop. He plays Gaga a lot. Around the house.
Him: Does he?
Me: Don’t say it in that tone of voice. I mean. Okay… Say it in that tone of voice. But I’ve been thinking about her, lately.
Him: I don’t believe that at all.
Me: I have. Listen – I don’t consume her product, but I kind of like her message, or her politics or whatever…
Him: Well we all consume her product. It’s pop culture, and she’s at the top of pop culture right now.
Me: Fair enough. But I wouldn’t seek her out if i wasn’t inundated with her right now. Not as an artist. But as a person – maybe I would.
Him: I’m not sure I can forgive her for… that… travesty.
Me: Born This Way?
Him: Yes. I’m not sure I can forgive… that.
Me: Oh stop it. Ultimately that song is good for the world.
Him: Disagree.
Me: Stop.
Him: Disagree! I think the message of that song…. UGH!!! That song! They hyped that song. That song could have been so good.
Me: It’s a good song! I mean. It’s not. But it’s good! It serves a good purpose.
Him: The message is thin. It could have been so intelligently done.
Me: No. It couldn’t have.
Him: What do you mean?
Me: That song’s not for you. It’s not for intelligent Brooklyn ultra-liberals who’ve already come to terms with their gayness and learned to love themselves. It’s not going to reference the counter culture or some esoteric intellectual mode of thought. It’s for a gay boy in Columbus, OH who just got kicked out of his Mom’s house for being Gay and now works at a thrift store. That’s who the song is for. So he doesn’t kill himself. You’re welcome.
Him: I’m welcome?
Me: Yes. You’re welcome. She kept a kid from killing himself. Or she tried to, and she showed other people it might be a good idea to try to stop gay kids from killing themselves. So, you’re welcome. I think she’s doing good for the world.
Him: It’s just that song.
Me: You’re right. It’s not great. But it is ‘GREAT.’
Him: Disagree.
Me: Ugh. What about the speech she gave at the March on Washington? What about how every time she goes on late night television she mentions Marriage Equality?
Him: It’s the song. I like her, but that song.
(long pause)
Me: It’s woefully bad. But I love her. She’s good.
(long pause)
Jerk.
Q: What’s sexier than an AIDS Walk?
A: A wet AIDS Walk. A wet, soupy AIDS Walk.
Even so. Last week I whined and pleaded and bothered and shamed people into sponsoring me. It worked. My family and friends and some nice people from the internet helped raise 950 dollars for AIDS patient services.
I caterwauled about it on Facebook all week. It paid off.
It was inspiring. 45,000 people walked, raising 6.2 million dollars.
That’s a staggering number. That’s amazing. Good job, 45,000 people.
I am way ahead of you. You were about to ask whether or not the guy from the EZ PAWN subway ads was there. Yes. Yes he was. A-List celebrities like him always turn out for charity events.
It’s cool to know that he’s a philanthropist, on top of providing the extremely useful service of making it EZ to PAWN things.
I couldn’t help but notice something: an abnormally large percentage of the AIDS Walkers were ethnic minorities. This was surprising to me.
I had this idea that there was going to be a bunch of middle class white people there, basking in the East coast liberal glow of their own kindness and charity. I expected to hear people saying things like, “Oh, my husband and I just took the train in from Connecticut – our daughter is a lesbian doula in Williamsburg and we wanted to support her.”
That was not the case. There were plenty of white people there, but by and large, I saw a disproportionally large amount of ethnic minorities. Maybe it was just the groups I was walking with – or maybe whitey needs to step it up next year?
I will say this, though. I could do without hearing things like, “Damn. Why they gotta be so many faggots up here?”
Don’t be naive. It’s the AIDS Walk. Aside from pushing a secret, evil agenda, faggots love nothing more than AIDS. Were you asleep in the late 80’s when all the faggots were trying out the stylish new disease everyone was talking about? Were you not paying attention when those faggots were responsible for the fashion revival of the hospital gown? Yes… faggots love AIDS. AIDS and Lady Gaga.
Were you raised as a mole person under the subway tunnels of New York city? is that why you don’t know what a bozo you look like, using the word ‘faggot’ at the AIDS Walk?
I mean. Thanks for helping out with the cause and all, but don’t be such a bigot. Just try. Just for one day. Not to be an uneducated fool. I heard the word faggot at least five times. And only two of those times were ironic, where one homosexual was saying to another: ‘Hey faggot.’
Knock it off, otherwise charitable, awesome people. You look foolish.
All in all the experience was uplifting, though. Most people were smiling and happy. There was a charge in the air.
Congrats to everyone that participated – walkers and sponsors. You guys are awesome. Now I’m going to get back to what I’m good at – annoying people with my gayness. And baking. And finding complicated boys to infuriate me.
I’ve got some good pies planned for the next few weeks.
A big, humble, thanks to everyone who sponsored me.
To everyone else….
Thanks for gawking.
Jerks.
Yesterday when Hank Chen came by to talk about the AIDS WALK, we wound up answering one of the write-in questions from his vlog.
We then sang a sweet song I wrote to a dejected Gay boy on his birthday.
Feel better D.
Happy Sunday, Jerks.
Hank Chen, a friend of mine and a video blogger wanted to do an entry with me and put it on his YouTube channel. We did it!
I made jokes about how selfish the Aids Walk is, and how self absorbed Aids patients are. Here’s the footage:
Thanks to Hank for a fun afternoon.
Click here to sponsor me for the Aids Walk!
Jerks.
Him: Are you busy? Are you around?
Me: Yeah. I’m here. I’m around. I just got back from a writer’s meeting with my team. What’s up?
Him: I just saw The Normal Heart on Broadway.
Me: Are you crying? Oh. Larry Kramer’s play. Right?
Him: Yeah. It was so moving and so real, and it’s so real. They still have AIDS, Michael. People are still dying of AIDS.
Me: I know. And nobody wants to talk about it. And everyone wants to spread this feel good message about how HIV is livable and more like an annoyance than a disease. And that’s true for some people. But it’s still killing some people too. A lot of people.
Him: They don’t write plays like that anymore, huh?
Me: No. Now it’s all about sexy teenagers who wanna doink each other, or alienated middle-aged people who have secret angers and hatreds brewing under their polite veneers. They used to write plays that pulled your heart out and stomped on it. Now they mis-cast things with television stars and turn romantic comedies into musicals.
(Pause. He starts to cry again.)
Him: Oh, no. OH. NO. It’s so short. It’s too short. Life is so short and everyone is holding on by a thread.
Me: You’re right. That’s true. And it’s precious. And we have to fight for it sometimes. And people are beautiful, but they say ugly things, and they hate themselves, and they hate you for loving yourself.
Him: I don’t know about all that. I’ve been crying for an hour. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I’m lonely.
Me: You are. You’re lonely, and beautiful. My God, you’re beautiful. I knew the very first time I set eyes on you that I was looking at an exceptional human being. You’re kind, and big-hearted. There is nothing inside you except a bright light that everyone can see. Everyone sees it.
Him: Not everyone.
Me: Everyone. The people who don’t get you still see the light, but they are jealous of it. You are lovely. And you are very much loved. And you’re kind. And you are my brother. I love you. Remember those Korean tourists at the bar? I introduced you to them.
Him: Yeah.
Me: I told them: ‘Speak of Koreans. I’m about to introduce you to the most beautiful Korean on the planet. Please keep your tongue in your mouth and guard your heart carefully.’
Him: You’re weird and nice – and that’s not true.
Me: It was true. In that moment it was true. And they agreed with me. I think you’re the most beautiful guy.
Him: Thank you. I’m still crying.
Me: Are you going to Five Napkin Burger?
Him: Yes.
Me: Man. Five Napkin Burger is your middle name. Are you going with friends?
Him: No. I’m not good at this. I’m not good at being lonely, and yet I feel like I need to be alone.
Me: It gets easier. Lonely gets easier. If I was there I would give you a big creepy hug.
Him: Hahahaha!! You would. You’d give me a creepy hug and say nice things.
Me: I’m a nice guy weirdo creep sweetheart. It’s how I roll.
Him: I’m glad I know you.
Me: I’m very grateful to know you too. Can I say one more thing?
Him: Yes.
Me: Don’t get mad.
(a long pause)
Me: I’m 99% sure there’s no God. I can’t prove it, but I don’t believe there’s a God. At least, not like the one they write about in Bibles and Korans and Torahs.
Him: I think there’s a God.
Me: I know you do. And I don’t. But. If. If there was a God. If there is a God. I KNOW FOR A FACT she loves the shit out of you. She does. She loves you.
Him: Hahahaha. She’s a girl, you think?
Me: No. I think She’s you and me. I think God is you and me, darling. God is the good things we can see in each other, and the beauty we can share with the world. That’s it. That’s all that God is. Wear a condom.
Him: I will. I do. (pause) I’m going to eat Five Napkin Burger.
Me: I wish you lived in Brooklyn.
Him: Me too.
Me: One more thing…
Him: Yeah?
Me: Click here to donate to the AIDS WALK.
If you can. Just if you can. If you have the extra money. Okay?
Jerks?
PIEFOLK 