Letters

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Dear Michael,
I am a 62-year-old gay man who really enjoys your blog.   It must be extremely hard work keeping up with your busy life as a musician/comedian/baker/advice columnist/etc.  Being the age I am, I enjoy your comments and responses to letters as it reminds me of some of my own feelings and experiences in my youth.
However, also, being the age I am, I also find myself sometimes more interested in what you are baking, than who you are baking with.  Have you ever considered publishing the recipes in the blog for the things you are shown baking?
Recently, I think I saw a banana cream pie go flying by in one of your pictures.   My aunt used to bake them and I haven’t had a taste of a good homemade one since she passed away.  How about it?   Come on, share your recipes.
Sincerely,
Rick W.
Rick,
I share my recipes from time to time, here on the blog.  I made a video showing how to make a Crisco/butter crust.  It’s on YouTube.  You can look for it.
As for banana cream, just use a vanilla custard recipe and then chop come bananas into it.   Chill it for at least 4 hours, preferably overnight.  Plop it inside a baked pie shell.  Cover with whipped cream.  You’re done.
It’s super easy.
Thanks for writing in.
Hey,
Very unique site! It makes you even more interesting. The plea to Obama video really cracked me up. Interesting conversation with the gay Asian who tries to isolate himself from the straight world; I like the way you gently try to get him to see past his defenses.

But you know, screeds of politics in binary straight/gay language make me wary. In my experience, the excoriations of the straight world don’t go on for long before the venom is turned on me, and I’m hearing one of the old familiar variations of “you’ll have to make up your mind some day”/”you know your gay side will win out”/”you don’t know what oppression is, because you have hetero privilege”/”you’re lucky, you can have twice as many dates”/”well if you’re not gay, get out of this club/bar/community center/dating site.”

I know well your Asian friend’s experience of being doubly hated (hell, even in the bi community there’s anti-polygamy prejudice; how would you like to belong to a despised minority within a despised minority within a despised minority?) In my personal experience, if someone is personally giving me shit for my sexuality, odds are overwhelming that he’s a gay man. Heteros tend to keep their prejudice to themselves.

Anyway, I just hope you’re not like that.

Atiq
If you are Bi, then I see you as fully Gay.  You just also happen to be fully Straight.  You are my brother and I will not turn my back on you.  You are always welcome in my community.

I know what you mean about internalized homophobia, but consider that some of the more obvious homosexuals in our flock get terms like ‘faggot’ flung at them from passing cars.  That’s not Gays doing that.  Perhaps you blend in better.

I am sorry that you feel despised.  I can assure you, we don’t all feel that way.

You’re a beautiful man.

I know you must suffer your own brand of oppression and isolation and I won’t pretend to know what that is, but I think we can both agree that you’re Queer.  LGBT means Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgendered.  You belong to my community.  I love you.

TuesDATE

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  So this is Brooklyn.

Me:  That’s right.  Oldest borough. You look cute.

Him:  Thanks.  Oldest borough?  You mean Manhattan, right? 

Me: I’m pretty sure Brooklyn is older than Manhattan.

Him:  That doesn’t make any sense.

Me: Um…   (short pause)  You have really nice hair.

Him:  I ought to.  I spent like 120 dollars at Kiehl’s the other day.  I hate when I do that.  That store is so easy to go crazy in there.  I went in there for eye cream and 120 dollars later, right?

Me:  Right.  I feel that way about my deli.  I go in there for Kim chi, and I wind up buying Kim chi and watermelon like a Rockefeller.

Him:  What do you use for eye cream?  Who’s a Rockefeller?

Me:  They’re like Donald Trump.  Pretend I said Donald Trump.

Him:  What about the eye cream?

Me:  Lotion.

Him:  What??

Me:  I use hand lotion.  Cetaphil, to be exact. They make a face lotion but I just use the hand and body lotion on my face too.  Why not?

Him:  Ew.  Doesn’t that clog your pores and dry out your skin?

Me: Nope.

Him:  I don’t believe you.

Me:  You shouldn’t.  I lie to people just for the sheer pleasure of it.  I like to see the moment of shocked betrayal when they find out I’ve been playing them for a fool.

Him:  Oh my god, do you?

Me:  No. That was a joke.

Him:  I don’t get it. 

Me:  It wasn’t a good joke, is why.

Him:  Why did you tell it? 

Me:  I had to try it out, to see.

Him:  Is that what your life is like?  Failure?

Me:  Um.  What?

Him:  I don’t mean it like that.  Wow.  That sounded bad – don’t blog about that.

Me:  I will, don’t worry.  That color looks good on you.  Really brings out your eyes.

Him: This is a one-of-a-kind garment.  The designer only made three of these.

Me:  So, it’s more like a one-of-three-kinds garment.

Him:  Um.  What?

Me:  You said the designer made three of them, so by logic, it can’t be one-of-a-kind.

(pause)

Him:  Um. It’s unique.

Me:  I’m sure you’re right.  The other two were probably lost in  a house fire, or the Holocaust, or got sucked into a temporal worm hole.

Him:  This shirt was 400 dollars, on sale.

Me:  Jesus.  That’s how much my guitar cost!

Him:  Really?

Me:  No, my guitar was a hundred bucks.  BUT.  That’s how much four of my guitars cost.  But you’d never be able to buy more than one of my guitar because it’s one-of-a-kind.

Him:  Is it?

Me:  Yes.  The manufacturer only made thousands.

Him:  Oh.  I get it.  You’re being a dick.

Me:  I’m being a dick.  You move really gracefully.

Him:  Really?  Thanks.

Me:  You’re welcome.

Him:  All these hipster types around here.  Ugh.  Makes me nervous.

Me:  Does it?  Why, I wonder?  It’s just a sub-culture, like hip hop, or redneck, or ivy league.  It’s just a small subset of a larger culture.

Him:  First of all – why do they want to stick out?  I just want to blend in and be accepted.  Second of all, if you look at them, they all have the same style which doesn’t make them unique at all.  There’s a conformity to the non-conformity.  It all looks the same to me.  I don’t get it.

(These cuddle bugs were all over each other on the C train.)

Me:  Well…  I don’t get hip hop culture.  But it’s a counterculture to the mainstream, right?  To me, it’s not appealing – the narrative that seems to arise from hip hop culture.  I think it relies heavily on misogyny. But on the other hand, it doesn’t bother me that other people participate in it.  I just don’t get it.

Him:  Shhh.  Don’t say that. 

Me:  What??

Him: You shouldn’t say that you don’t ‘get’ hip hop culture in public.

Me:  Why?

Him:  That’s racist!

Me:  Are you being ironic?

Him:  What’s irony?

(pause)

Me:  Me saying that I don’t keep up with hip hop, or respond to the narrative isn’t racist, darling.  It’s the same as someone saying that they don’t like bluegrass music or the culture surrounding it.  I will admit to being ignorant about hip hop, though.  I don’t follow a lot of it.

Him:  See.  You shouldn’t be ignorant.

Me:  That’s a reductive statement.  Everyone is ignorant about a whole shit ton of stuff.  Most people are ignorant of the nuances of expert level Scrabble play, for instance.  But, you don’t see Scrabble players getting offended by that ignorance.

Him:  What?  Scrabble?  Do you like my shoes?

Me:  Yes.

Him:  They’re vintage Kenneth Cole.  They cost a lot of money.

Me:  Mine too.

Him:  Who are your shoes?

Me:  Who?  Oh.  You mean who designed them?

Him:  Yes. 

Me:  They are from K-Mart.  I got them for free.  They were a costume in a play.

Him: Ew.  You’re an actor?

Me:  Yes.  I mention on the blog that I act and do comedy.

Him:  I only watch the videos.  I don’t like reading.  I like the pictures.  This might not work.  I don’t know about dating an actor.

Me:  Tell me about it.  I dated one. What do you do?

Him:  I work in the accounting section of a popular women’s fashion magazine.

Me:  Which one?

Him:  I prefer not to say. 

Me:  Is it a fashion magazine for lady CIA agents?

Him:  No.  I just prefer not to say.

Me:  Okay.

Him:  I know it’s okay.  It’s my prerogative whether I tell you exactly where I work or not.

Me:  Know what?  It’s getting late.  I have to be up early.  Let me walk you to the train.

(long pause)

Him:  No.  I’ll take a car.

Me:  What?  It’s six blocks.

Him:  I’ll take a car. 

Me:  I’ll call you one.  Jerk.

Him:  What did you say? 

Me:  I said you’re one-of-a-kind.

(Jerk.)

Revolution

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

(drawing by Dan Paul Roberts)

“The first thing they had to realize was that all of them were brothers; oppression made them brothers; exploitation made them brothers; degradation made them brothers; discrimination made them brothers; segregation made them brothers; humiliation made them brothers.”

– Malcolm X.

A few years ago the (then) members of Thin Skin Jonny made a video.   I make them say ‘Join the Revolution’ at the end.   It used to be the tagline for my blog.

What an idiot.

“Join the Revolution.”  Like I’m Stalin or something.   Ha.

Even so…

It feels weird to revisit. So Sophomoric, even.  Like some advertizing slogan they come up with to sell a product they don’t believe in…

“Nike – Just Do It.”   (What?  Just. Do.  What?  What do you mean?)

“Coke is IT.”  (Of course it is.  It’s one of two options.  Of course Coke Is It.  It’s the only choice half the time.)

“Join the Revolution.” (Really??  Should we?? Should we join a Revolt about Pie and Gayness, and Respect?)

Even so.  There is a revolution brewing.  I feel it.

We’re not going to stay in our Gay ghettos anymore.

Chelsea.  San Fransisco.  Miami.  They are out of date.

They have no more meaning to us.  We are you.  And you are us. Get used to us.  We are your Gay brothers, children, teachers, community leaders….

We’re coming out into the world.  And we’re going to infect you with our Gayness.

Sorry, straights.  I know you’re stressed out and important, and you have all those kids to worry about.  Sorry.

(I’m not at all sorry)

Digest this:  We (the Gays) are Brothers and Sisters and we are strong.  You will reckon with us. You will stop giving us your shame and judgement.  You will. You will stop. We won’t accept it anymore.

You.

Will.

Stop.

Thank you, Straights.

You guys are awesome.

We hate you and think you’re inferior.

Just kidding, we love you.

Jerks.

Shame

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  Thanks for inviting me.

Me:  This turned out to be a pretty good party, right?

Him:  It’s so much fun!

Me:  Did you eat your pie?

Him:  Not yet.  I will.  I hid it.  I know where it is.  I’ll eat it.

Me:  I worry you don’t eat enough.

Him:  Sometimes I don’t, but it’s under control.

Me:  Okay.  How are you otherwise?

Him:  Good.  I go to one of the best design schools in the country.  I have an internship 30 year-olds are trying to get.  I’m working on many different projects.

Me:  Ha.  Sounds like you’re talking to your Dad.

Him:  What?

Me:  For a second it sounded like you were talking to your Dad, just now.  Explaining your accomplishments.

Him: Could be.  My parents are really down on me.

Me: Really?  You’re so successful.  That’s crazy to me.

Him:  They constantly make me justify myself and they constantly make me feel inferior.  Like I’m somehow disappointing them.  I think I might hate them a little.

Me:  Stop.

Him:  No.  This is real.  This is something that is real to me.

Me: Okay, then.  (Pause)  Doesn’t sound like they recognize what a powerful young Homosexual they created.  They should realize they’re lucky.

Him:  They don’t.  I think I hate myself, sometimes, too.

Me:  What?

Him:  I think I hate myself sometimes.

Me:  No.

Him:  What do you mean, no?

Me: No.  That won’t do… That won’t do at all.

Him:  It won’t?

Me: No. We can’t have that.  We can’t have talented young Gays like you walking around hating yourselves.  The rest of us need you to be vibrant, and strong.  We all need each other.

Him: But they have a way of…  Well…    They have a way of tearing me down.  Even when I tell them I’m doing good in school and I’m kind of an over-achiever.  They always bring it back to me being Gay.  And I’m made to feel like I disappointed them, or that I can’t possibly make up for it.

Me: They’re using shame.

Him:  Shame?

Me:  Yes.  They’re asking you to feel ashamed.

Do you ever feel, around them, you can’t quite exactly be yourself?

Him: Oh yes.  All the time.  They make me feel like there’s a whole part of me I have to hide.  Especially when my extended family is around.  Like, they all know I’m Gay, but I’m not supposed to behave too much that way because it might rock the boat.

Me: Heavens to Betsy.  What would Aunt Miriam say?

Him:  Exactly.  And my brother is going on and on about all the girls he’s dating and I can’t exactly chime in and say, well, I was naked in a hot tub with two other boys last weekend and it was weird, can I?

Me: Well, you could.

Him:  My mother would have a fit.

Me:  Of course she would.  She’s shaming you.  She is using your own fears and insecurities about your sexuality against you.  She knows that, on some level, you feel bad about your lovely, unique Gayness, and she uses that shame to keep you in line.  Straight people have been shaming Gays for thousands of years.  It’s bred into their culture.  They don’t even know they’re doing it, sometimes… Them trying to shame us is almost second nature to them.

(pause)

Him:  That sounds a lot like what she does.  I have so much resentment of her.  I hate my Dad for going along with it.  They don’t treat me like they treat my brother.

Me:  We need to remove all this hate from your person.

Him:  Huh?  Maybe.  I hate my parents and I hate myself.

Me:  I don’t care about your parents, but I won’t have you hating yourself, young man.  That won’t do at all.  Who do you hate more, yourself, or your parents?

Him:  Oh!  My parents.  They’re really awful to me.  They make me wish I wasn’t Gay or wasn’t here, even.

Me:  That kills me to hear.  All the more reason, then, to remove your own self-hatred, right?  Then you can direct all of your anger where it belongs.

Him:  At my parents?

Me:  Or just bigoted Straight people in general.  Three things need to happen, in order for a person to experience shame.  What are they?

Him:  Dunno?

Me:

1) It must be agreed upon that certain sets of behavior are shameful, in this case exhibiting your homosexuality.

2) Someone must identify that set of behaviors and invoke shame upon the other person.  This is done very blatantly, like yelling at someone, or very subtly, like avoiding eye contact or withholding affection.  This is the type of shaming it sounds like your parents are doing.

Him:  Okay.  They do that, yes.

Me: 3)  Someone must accept shame.  The other person must decide to act in a shameful manner.  Do you find yourself leaving the room?  Acting contrite?  Trying to make up for your ‘Gay outbursts?’

Him:  Yeah.  That happens a lot.  But what can I do when they’re making me feel ashamed?

Me:  You just took all the power away from yourself – They’re making me feel ashamed, you said.  Who’s emotions are they?

Him:  Mine.

Me:  Exactly.  So who’s in charge of those feelings?

Him:  Me.

Me:  Exactly.  So who makes you feel a certain way?

Him:  Me?

Me:  You.  Now you took the power back.

Him:  But how do I keep from feeling ashamed?

Me: Identify and address it when it happens.  Say something about it.  Say, “I can feel you trying to make me feel ashamed, but what you don’t understand is that I’m the opposite of ashamed.  I’m proud that I act, live and love the way I do, so I can’t accept your shame.  It’s not my shame, it’s yours.”  Just give the shame right back to them.

Him: I can do that?

Me:  You can do that.  Try it sometime.  Feels good.

Him:  Sounds hard to train yourself to feel and act that way.

Me:  It requires vigilance.  You have to keep reminding yourself.

Him:  I’ll give it a shot.  Do you think I still have time left to change my behavior?

Me:  How old are you?

Him:  Nineteen.  It might be too late.

Me:  Nineteen??  You got nothing but time.  We only have the rest of our lives.  We’ll get it right.

Him:  Thanks. 

Jerk.

Letters

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

(Guess I’m buying LEVI’S from now on)

Hi Michael,

I appreciated how you handled J.S.’s email.  It was just refreshing you called out his out-dated and insensitive comments.  You did hit a bullseye on that there are guys who still believe in “some gay hierarchy.”  But “entitled” people aren’t the only group of people who think that.  I confess that at times, typically when I feel alone and lonely, I am guilty of having a feeling, however flitting, that my pathetic state is because I was born Korean, earning me a spot at the bottom of the gay hierarchy. I know there are a lot of things wrong with my prior sentence. But anyway, the point is, that for me it was a nice reminder of how so easy it is to fall under the lies of self-loathing. 
Anyway, you seem like a cool guy to get to know and to bake with!  
Take care,
Jake
P.S. I made the spread of food for my party a couple of weeks ago.  I thought I might share that picture, just in case you are auditioning potential guest to bake with.
Jake, you can bake with me any damn time.  You have a great skill set and I’ll bet you’re the cutest thing ever.
We have to get over our racist notions in the Gay community.  We, who understand discrimination more than anyone in this day and age, must be able to rise above racism and misogyny.  If we cannot conquer those things, we cannot become truly unified.  Jake, I challenge you to sleep with an Asian boy or two, so you can see the power of your own attractiveness.   I love you.  You are my brother.
Dear Sir,

Hot damn!

I just stumbled across your website. I’m can’t remember how, as I’m
still in a bit of a shock and unable to collect my thoughts. But, Sweet
Jesus, everything you are doing with Piefolk.net is adorable and sexy
and friendly and good-natured and deliciously gay and also generously
satisfies some human appetite or another. You’ve really made my day.

I grew up in Astoria and moved to Chicago for school, but, oh, had I
known that there would be more to New York in the 2010s than (still
further) rapid rent-rising and character-bleaching gentrification, e.g.
sensual, socially progressive pastry cookery, I’d have stayed. I’d have
stayed.

To make you share in my disappoint that I didn’t, here’s a photograph of
my adoring face. Aren’t I somewhat cute? Yes, I can sometimes force
myself to think so too.

Keep this up, dude! Also, do you have any tips on making an awesome
peach cobbler, my favorite sort of pastry? Or maybe if I pay a trip to
the folks back home sometime this summer, I myself could submit to your
glorious baking master-class?

My sincerest Internet affections,
Gene

Gene,
First of all, flattery will get you everywhere.  Yes.  Everywhere.  No, you’re not ‘somewhat cute.’  You’re what we in the blogging community call ‘boner city.’  That’s a scientific term for a city full of boners, where everyone is so aroused that they’re constantly having to dodge each other on the subway for fear of rudely poking one another with their boners.  See what you did?  You aroused all of New York City.
Can you ‘submit’ yourself to my baking class?  I see where you’re going with this, and yes.  I’ll tie you up and keep you in my closet for a few days, with the cookie cutters, rolling pins and flour sifter, if that’s what you really want.  But you strike me as more of a screw-him-on-the-baking-table sort of guy.  It’s your choice.
No discounts, however, on the class.  Unless you have a twin.  We have group rates.
You were nice to flatter me and I think you’re super cute.
You’re all super cute, Gays.  Don’t forget it.
Jerks.

TuesDATE: Mutant and Proud

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Me:  What is this theater?  A speak easy?

Him:  It’s the closest one to my house.

Me:  There’s no sign.  I had to circle the block three times to figure out where it was.

Him:  They’re doing construction.  I bought a bunch of snacks.  You’re stressed out.  Let’s have fun.

(We watch the movie.  We do have fun.)

Me:  Thank you.  You’re being nice and I’m being horrible.  Thanks for the movie and the snacks.  Sweet boy.

Him:  It’s okay.  You have an emotional investment in the franchise.  I do too.  I’ve been reading X-Men since i was a kid.

Me:  Me too, since I was 8 years old.

Him:  What did you think?

Me:  I can’t but love it.  I have to.  It’s about us.  It’s about Gays.

Him:  Singer really pushed the homosexual imagery hard!  All of that man on man fondling and long deep eye contact.

Me:  He did.  I got really emotional about a lot of it.  Certain lines they delivered seemed to be speaking directly to Gays.   Like Singer wanted the Gays to hear his advice to them.

Him:  ‘No, no.  We don’t hurt our own kind.’

Me:  YES!  ‘Mutant and Proud.’

Him:  That was clearly the underlying moral of the movie. 

Me:  I know.  ‘You didn’t ask, so I didn’t tell.’

Him:  Also, it was implied that the good guy, Charles Xavier, has big flaws.  He invades people’s minds even after he has promised not to.  He pressures Mystique to ‘cover’ her true form in public.

Me: Covering is a real problem right now in the Gay community.  The pressure for us to mute ourselves can be felt any time we hang out with straight people.  It’s not fair, and they don’t even realize they’re coyly asking us to do that, when we’re with them.

Him:  They always do that.  They all always do that.

Me:  They frequently do that.  But not all of them, and not always.

Him:  How many of your comedy teams have pressured you to smooth out the gay around the edges?

(Man. I really want a Dunkin Donuts franchise where I can sell white trash Jerks Mtn Dew Coolattas)

Me:  All of them, at one point or another.  But that’s comedy.

Him:  I’m with Magneto.  I’m a separatist. 

Me:  No, you’re not.  You’re not willing to kill or maim or terrorize people in order to gain your equality.

(long silence)

Me:  Stop.  Don’t look at me like that.  You’re not willing to do that.

Him:  I agree with the philosophy.  By any means necessary.  It boils down to Xavier/Magneto being Dr. King/Malcolm X. 

Me:  I know.  But what makes one argument compelling is that the other exists.  One side of the argument is not compelling without the opposite point of view.  It’s useless to say that you agree with Dr. King or Malcolm X.  You know in your heart that they are both right.

Him:  I don’t care anymore.  I’ve found a way to be completely homo-social.  I only associate with Gay people except for my mother. 

Me:  That’s very narrow.

Him:  I’m Chinese-American and Gay.  What can I do?  There’s a whole world out there that hates me for one reason or another.  I’m not going to devote my  life to fighting for the respect of people that aren’t as smart as I am.

Me:  That’s your right, but you live in the world.  You have straight people around you, and you must interact with them.

Him: I do it as little as possible.  My mother is my only female friend.  I don’t understand women and they get offended almost every single time I have to interact with them.  Their feelings are so sensitive and I don’t have time for that.

Me:  Stop that.  I have women in my life that I love and respect.  But I think I get what you’re driving at.  They seem to be wired differently than us, but if we’re to demand respect from Straights who are wired differently, then we must manifest the generosity of spirit to return that respect.  Or screw up the courage to offer the respect first.  Certainly, we have to rise above misogyny if we want our own equality.

Him:  I am an oppressed minority.  Two times over.  I’m not going to start respecting first. I’m not going to start living by their rules. I just want to be left alone.  Give us our own country, and one for the Lesbians.  Indiana.  Nobody wants to live there.  Let us have it.

Me:  Step one: rename!  Hey, if you don’t start first then nobody will start respecting anyone.  That’s how respect works.  It’s a two way street.  We don’t have to live how they tell us, but we must start respecting first, because they have the power.   Here’s a better question.  How do we take the power?

Him:  We start riots in the street.  Burn down their houses.  Make it so they’re so afraid they have to turn on fire hoses and shoot us with rubber bullets. And we make sure there are plenty of cameras around when they turn on the fire hoses.

Me:  Maybe.  That might need to happen.  This is America.  It seems like major social change has only ever come at the cost of much anguish and bloodshed.  Are we ready for that?  I’ve always hoped that some sort of amazing Gay Gandhi would come along and show us how to peacefully get what’s ours.  We’re not organized enough for that, yet.  But there’s change brewing.  You can feel it?

Him:  Yes.  But I don’t care. I’m with Magneto.  I’m an evil mutant.

Me:  That’s okay.  I love you anyhow.

Just remember:  We don’t harm our own kind.  And use a condom.  And clean out, if you’re going to bottom.

Jerk.

The Dodos

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

This is The Dodos.  They are nice boys.  They are talented boys.  They are world class musicians.  They are rock stars.

Meric Long is the guitarist/lead singer.  Logan Kroeber is the guy with the drum kit, and sings too.  They quit their jobs and became rock icons in 2006.  They have since toured the country with national acts like Les Savy Fav, Peter and the Wolf, and The New Pornographers.

But right now, they’re not doing that.  Right now they are headliners.

And they fucking eat the audience alive.

They have a new album out.  It features a woman who I consider to be the best alt/dark country artist in the world right now.  Her name is Neko Case.

Logan is younger brother to a good friend of mine, Gavin Kroeber.  We met a few years back, and Gavin asked me to take Logan on a bike, skateboard, roller blade ride with him and his girlfriend.

Him:  Jesus.  You’re a speed demon on those blades.

Me:  I am?

Him:  Yeah. You’re all about the forward motion.

Me:  Yes.  That’s very true.  Should we fuck around on this concrete softball court?

Him:  Okay.  That might be nice.  Michelle is probably tired.

Me:  That’s not very forward thinking.  Just because she’s a girl?  She’s on the bike.

Him:  No.  Because she suffered a real loss.  Remember.  I told you about that.  Two days ago.

Me:  Oh.  Right.  Oh no. I’m being insensitive.  I’m self absorbed.  I do that sometimes.  I have me on the brain. I’m sorry.

Him:  It’s okay.  That’s just how you’re built.  You don’t have to apologize.

Me:  I talked to her about it a few days ago.  I said something really idiotic about how I just lost my aunt to Alzheimer’s.  It probably sounded corny.  I was really busted up about it. But this. This I can not imagine.

Him:  No.  I’m sure she appreciates that you trying to relate.

Me:  I felt stupid.  That’s not what grief is about.  It’s impenetrable.  Having someone say ‘I know what you’re going through’ does nothing.  It’s meaningless.  Nobody knows what you’re going through, not in the moments of grieving something.  That’s all yours.

Him:  Yeah, I know.  I think if we just slow down a little and let her go through what she needs to go through she’ll be okay.

Me:  You’re really good.

Him: What?

Me: You’re really good at this.  You just alerted me that I needed to be more sensitive without making me feel ashamed.  You’re really good.   You’re a good man.  She’s lucky to have you.

Him:  You’re very kind to say so.

Me:  Later I’ll take you down to the Hasidic area of Williamsburg.  It’s the only place in the world I’ve ever felt invisible.

Him:  Invisible?

Me:  They don’t acknowledge you if you are not one of them.  Sometimes, I wish Gays could get away with that.

(pause)

That was a joke.  Kind of.

Him:  I’m going to do some skateboarding in this concrete softball court.

Me:  I’m going to do Gay little rollerblading turns.

Him:  Yes you are.

Merick.  Logan.  You guys have become powerful artists.  Wield that power guys.  I remember when you would play Pete’s Candy Store for 20 people.  Now look at you.  Sold out crowds?  Hundreds of people?  Yes.

In many ways, I wouldn’t have had the courage to start my own comedy band if I hadn’t become obsessed with your album Beware of the Maniacs. I’m grateful.  Thanks for the tickets, and for hanging out.  See you when I see you.

xoxoxoxo

Jerks.

ThursDATE: Don’t Compliment Me

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  This is pretty nice.

Me:  What?  This apartment?

Him:  Yeah.  It’s pretty nice.

Me:  Oh.  Jeez.  It’s small, and it’s in a building that was built before World War II, but thanks.

Him:  Still.  By New York standards…

Me:  You’re right.  Anywhere else in the country, this would be meh, but in New York it’s a palace.

Him:  Let’s not go that far.

(Pause)

Me:  I can’t believe you’re here.

Him:  Why not?

Me:  I didn’t think you liked me, when I was flirting with you at Metro.

Him:  Really?  I couldn’t tell if you were flirting or not.

Me:  REALLY?  I thought I was laying it on thick.  I had my arm around you, and it was 200 degrees out.

Him:  Yeah, but you kept touching everyone.

Me:  Awcrap.  Yeah, I’m a Jerk that way.  I have to make sure everyone knows I like them.  Plus it was a lot of my friends there and I like making connections and introducing people, etc.

Him:  Yeah.  You were really working on that crowd.

Me:  I have my moments.  But seriously – you couldn’t tell I was flirting with you, hard?

Him:  Maybe.  I’m not used to people flirting with me.

Me:  Really?  You’re extremely pretty.

Him:  Don’t.  I don’t like that.

Me:  Compliments?

Him:  I don’t want to be called pretty.  Why can’t you say that I’m hot?

Me:  You are hot.  And handsome.  And pretty.

Him:  That’s okay.  I can be pretty sometimes, but sometimes I get to be handsome too, okay?

Me:  Okay.  That’s easy ’cause it’s true.

Him:  You’re weird.

Me:  Tell me something I don’t know.  My family’s been saying that for years.

(Pause.  I look at him.  He’s pretty.  I suppress the urge to say so.)

Me:  Well…  I mean…  I had to move all those people all the way across the bar in order to stand next to you.  Then I had to think of a lame reason to start talking to you.  Then for some odd reason I put my arm around you even though it was the hottest day ever = I was definitely flirting with you.  Plus your friend was giving me the stink eye.

Him:  He’s really protective of me.  Sorry.  I don’t get people flirting with me much.

Me:  That’s hard to believe.  You’re super pretty, er, good looking.  Maybe you’re going to the wrong places.  Seems like Metro is a good place to go if you’re an art fag who wants to roll his eyes at other art fags and judge everyone for not being cool enough.

Him:  It’s not like that when you’re Asian and gay.  People don’t flirt with you.

Me:  Not true.  I’m flirting with you RIGHT NOW.

Him:  Yes, but we already established that you’re weird and not the normal type of Gay.

Me:  Thank god.

Him:  Thank god. 

Me:  Just kidding.  There’s no god.

(Pause.  He eyes me, suspiciously.)

Him:  But most people who flirt with me are much older and want me to put on high heels and panty hose.

Me:  Ha.  I wait until the third date to ask people to do that.

(Pause)

Him:  I hope you’re joking.

(Pause.  I consider telling him I’m joking, but then I think it might be funny if I just say nothing.  It’s not.  It’s just awkward.)

Him:  Anyway.  No.  People don’t flirt much.

Me:  I find that odd because you’re very attractive and smart and your butt is wow.

Him:  Gays are awful to Asians.  You’re full of compliments, aren’t you?

Me:  Yes.  I’m doing it on purpose.  When I’m on a date I try to find things that are true and positive to say about the other person.  It’s called ‘dating.’

Him:  Are we?  Is this a date?

Me:  I dunno.  Maybe we’re just sitting on my couch and I’ve got this Lost in the Trees Pandora station on for no reason.  That’s a nice tattoo.

Him:  You’re doing it again.

Me:  I am?

Him:  Compliments.  I don’t do that.  You shouldn’t do that too much.

Me:  I shouldn’t?

Him:  People take advantage.  You can’t show them your good side at first.  You have to show them that you’re tough, or they’ll take advantage.

Me:  They will?  Are you sure?

Him:  I’ve had a hard life.  Things have been tough.

Me:  You seem a little angry.

(Pause)

Me:  I know what you mean, I think.  People act like assholes a lot.  But you can still be nice to strangers.  Sometimes it leads to amazing places.

Him:  I’m not sure I believe that.  I’m glad you think that though.  Life hasn’t been kind to me.

Me:  I’ve been through rough patches too, kiddo.  But we have to make the best of what’s in front of us.  Do you think I’m good looking?

Him:  Duh.  I’m here aren’t I?

Me:  I’m flattered.  Maybe we should take our clothes off and have crazy Gay sex?

Him:  Nice try.  Maybe we should keep our underwear on and cuddle until we fall asleep.

Me:  I’ll take it.  Maybe next time we have a date we’ll have sex?

Him:  Maybe you’ll wait until I’m ready.  Jerk.

(Maybe I will!)

Ancient Chinese Secret

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Hey

So, I’ve been reading your blog… and am left with so many questions… it’s kind of like I feel after reality TV… like the bachelor…

1. do you have sex with everyone you invite back to the fantasy suite to make pies or is that just for the camera? What’s real and what’s not? 🙂

2. Who’s the third person taking pics? And does it turn you on to have someone watch?

3. what do you like about Asian men? aren’t they usually kinda effeminate with small willys… or maybe you like that… Just curious. Of course, normally this would be none of my business, but I’m a fan, so I guess I feel a little entitled.

Anyway keep “Baking Sweet Love” and I’ll keep reading… and if you use that tag line make sure you credit me… actually you don’t have to do that… it’s all yours… just bake/name a pie after me and eat every delectable crumb with your next concubine… actually eat it off your next conquest and put it in your blog.

J.S.

Hey J. S.

I was conflicted about whether or not to answer this letter. I didn’t know whether or not to give credence to this progression of ideas you set forth.  I decided to address it.

I hope you know I appreciate your reading, but you said some stupid shit, and I’m gonna go off on it. Okay?

1. do you have sex with everyone you invite back to the fantasy suite to make pies or is that just for the camera? What’s real and what’s not? 🙂

It’s not a fantasy suite, but that’s flattering.  It’s a kitchen in a pre-war apartment building in Brooklyn.  As for the guys, no.   I don’t have sex with all of them.  And no, I won’t say which.  I like my blog to be slightly mysterious, like LOST, but instead of a polar bear there’s rhubarb.

However, this I can assure you: they ARE all real.  None of them are cylons.

Probably.

2. Who’s the third person taking pics? And does it turn you on to have someone watch?

Different people.  Friends of mine, or occasionally professional photographers.  Depends.  Sometimes me and the baking assistant just photograph each other.  Does it turn me on?  Depends on who’s behind the camera, I guess?  There’s an element of voyeurism, for sure.

3. what do you like about Asian men? aren’t they usually kinda effeminate with small willys… or maybe you like that… Just curious. Of course, normally this would be none of my business, but I’m a fan, so I guess I feel a little entitled.

No.

It’s obvious you feel a LOT entitled.

Are you drunk?  Why would you ask me that?   It’s obvious, I assume, that I am both very respectful of and attracted to Asian men?  Why, in 2011, would you propagate such a ridiculous stereotype? Seriously.  You sound like my grandpa.

Effeminate?  Small Willies?  Come on.  You’re talking about BILLIONS of the world’s population.  You sound foolish.

Do you have some sort of late-80’s early-90’s idea of homosexuality?  That there’s some Gay hierarchy where masculine, uber hung, over worked out white and (light skinned) Latino guys sit at the top?  Get over it, dude.  Times are changing, and they’re changing faster than Whitey wants to admit.

I’ve met guys like you before.  You think it’s ultra post modern to say shit like this in Gay bars or at parties.  You don’t see why people sometimes take offense.  You think the world is too uptight and you ‘don’t see why people can’t just loosen up.’

You’re almost certainly white.

You’re being insensitive.  Extremely.  Racist, even.

It’s okay.  It’s not you.  It’s the world you grew up in.  But, I know you know that’s not the right way to be.  So knock it off, okay?  It hurts people’s feelings.   Think about it.  You don’t want to live in a world where it’s okay to say racist crap to strangers, do you?  Don’t be that guy.  Please?

It might be hard, but you can reprogram yourself.  You can stop thinking about people in such a small scope.  It’s scary, but once you start doing it, the world really opens up.

Here’s the good news:

There is an Asian out there for you. Really. There’s a masculine, big dicked Chinese dude out there who’s just as much of a douche as you are.  Stop! Don’t argue!  There is. I just know it.  He’s doing the PX90 workout right now, dreaming of the day he meets you and screws the daylights out of you.  The two of you will pull a rickshaw off into the sunset. He will tell you his Ancient Chinese Secret.

But, yeah, you shouldn’t say that kind of crap in an email.    Makes you look like a stupid fool.  And you’re not a stupid fool, are you?  Well of course you are.  We all are. But don’t be that kind of stupid fool.

Jerk.