Tag: alienation

Thanksgiving

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

 

Her: Can I have some more wine? I burned my finger and I want to take my mind off it.

Her friend: Know what’s good for a burn? Raw honey. It has antimicrobials that help the burn.

Her: Know what else helps the burn? Wine. Will you pour me some more wine?

Me: Know what else helps the burn?

(long pause)

Me: An unhappy childhood.

(pause)

Me: Because the burn doesn’t hurt compared to the childhood. You barely notice it!!!

Her: Ladies and Gentlemen, Michael Martin!!!

Me: Thank you. I’m here all week. Please tell your friends.

People Send Me Things

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

 

This set of photos comes from a lovely young man in London named Michael To. Pretty brave of you, Michael!

If you’re reading this and you’re feeling inspired to send me some photos, please do!

Look at that tattoo! I did some research – it’s the Chinese symbol for ‘Oh, I had no idea my ass was hanging out!’

Keep in mind – if you send me photos, it’s likely I might run them on my site.

Flexing. Flexing….

Michael made an Old English Custard pie.

Great lighting in Michael’s kitchen, right?

Michael is a handsome, brave guy. I’m sure he has other assets too.

Thanks for sending me things, Michael.

You can feel free to send me things too, Jerks.

A Special Man

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

erwin caluya

Her: Hey. I read that.

Me: What?

Her: That book. Are you reading Bossypants?

Me: Oh! Yes. I love it. I think Tina Fey is inspiring.

Her: Yes. It certainly seems like she’s carved out her own path. So what are you doing here, at a bar, in the middle of the afternoon?

Me: Ha. Good question. I was just thinking the same thing…

Her: Ah. But that’s not an answer.

Me: I’m waiting for a date.

Her: Oh. Very nice.

Me: That remains to be seen.

Her: Oh? First date?

Me: Yeah. First date. I’ve never met him.

Her: Is it a blind date?

Me: Sort of? I don’t think people do that anymore. I met him online.

Her: That sounds so exciting. The prospect of meeting a stranger online in real life. That’s not something someone from my generation does very easily. It seems scary.

Me: It’s not. You chat with the guys for a while before you meet up. Just to be sure they’re not a crystal meth addict or anything.

(pause)

Her: What do you do for a living? I’m sorry. That’s a cliche question. I’m not from New York, and when I come here I often wonder how people survive.

Me: Uh… I teach improv classes mostly, and do comedy gigs.

Her: Oh! I love improv! I just LOVE it. It’s magical.

Me: Really? Most people just tolerate it.

Her: No, it’s truly a wonderful thing. So glorious to see people working together, and agreeing. The spontaneity. There’s a real connection between the audience and the actors.

Me: That’s true.

Her: I really love it. I was very fond of a man who did improv – a long time ago…

Me: Did he? Was he good?

(pause)

Her: He was great. I like to think I’m kind of responsible. I took him to his first ever show at the Groundlings. He jumped up on stage with them and started playing.

Me: Wow. Really? Were they weirded out?

Her: No. You’d think they would be, but they weren’t. He was so good at it, even before he took any classes. He was such a natural.

(long pause)

Her: I was married to Phil Hartman.

(long pause)

Her: I was his first wife. He married a few times.

Me: Oh. Okay. Sorry. I thought…

Her: You thought I was the woman who shot him.

Me: For a second, yeah.

Her: No. I’m not. But I know her.

Me: I… That must be horrible. She must be very disturbed.

Her: She was very disturbed, and I can’t say that I’ll ever forgive her. But I’ve gotten to the point where I feel sorry for her. She was a very self-absorbed, very selfish woman. She was like poison for him, but he was so drawn to her.

Me: It can be hard being with funny people. Being their partners.

Her: I’ve heard that, but that was never the case with Phil. He was so loving, and such a wonderful man. He loved making people laugh. It was his reason for living.

Me: I get that.  I do get that for sure.

Her: I know you do. I love improv. I love people that can just do that. It’s a gift. You have a gift.

Me: I’m trying to think of something self-deprecating to say, but who am I to argue with Phil Hartman’s wife?

Her: Exactly. Except I’m someone else’s wife now.

Me: That’s good. So you’re happy?

Her: I am.

Me: Good. Hey –

Her: What?

Me: Did it hit you hard? When he was killed?

Her: Yes. Yes it did. He was my best friend, for a long time. Even after our divorce he and I were very close.

Me: I’m so sorry. He’s one of my idols. He was a great man.

Her: That’s a good way to put it. Can I tell you a secret?

Me: Okay.

Her: The night that he died, I had a dream. I hadn’t thought about him for such a long time. But in my dream I was getting ready to go somewhere, and I was late. And I was annoyed. And my husband was nowhere to be found. And suddenly Phil appeared in my bathroom, where I was putting on my makeup. And I was shocked. And flustered. And he was the last person I wanted to see. But then he put his hand on my shoulder, and all I felt was calm, and warm. I felt loved. And he said, “So many people love you. I love you. And this is all gonna be okay.”

Me: Wow.

Her: I had this dream almost exactly the time he was shot. Very near to that time.

Me: Wow.

Her: I feel like it was him visiting me, one last time. I feel like he wanted me to know that he loved me. And I do. I know he loved me.

Me: That’s amazing.

Her: I feel like a shot. Should we get a shot? What do you drink?

Me: Bourbon. But I don’t –

Her: Can we have two bourbons? I have to leave to make dinner with my husband, but can we?

Me: Yeah. We can.

(pause)

Me: Hey. Thanks.

Her: What?

Me: Thanks for being open. That felt really good. Thank you.

Her: Thank you.

Me: For what?

Her: For being funny. Thank you.

Me: I wasn’t being funny.

Her: I know. But thanks for being a funny person.

Me: You haven’t seen me perform. What if I’m not funny?

Her: I know – but what if you are?

Me: That’s even more scary.

Her: Exactly. That’s even more scary. But that’s a whole other conversation.

The Lonely One

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

I like seeing the middle aged Chinese man in the window when I’m walking home at night. He’s usually cooking in the blond lady’s kitchen. Pots and pans and sieves, all hanging around him as he tends to this or that.

I used to work as a local barkeep. The middle aged Chinese man was a regular customer, drinking whiskey and craft beers. He worked in IT, odd hours, which meant he could do things like hang out in local dive bars until very late. He knew lots of little facts about a lot of things and he was respectful. He tipped well, and brought in food he’d made at home. I probably bought him more drinks than I should’ve.

At the time he was single. And lonely. He walked with a limp, and carried a cane. My boyfriend, who also worked at the local bar, used to sit with him until very late. We drank beer, and ate his homemade beef jerky, or scallion pancakes.

Sometimes we would talk about him at home. I would worry. He seemed alienated. My boyfriend would shake his head at me and then touch my face.

“You think about other people too much,” he would say to me. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

That was lifetimes ago. I don’t work at the local bar anymore, and I barely even nod at the middle aged Chinese man as he walks down the street with his cane, and his girlfriend.

Still. I see him. I monitor his happiness. He lives in the apartment building next to mine now, with the blond lady who’s lived there forever, quietly assembling an impressive kitchen. Pots and pans and sieves – all hanging around them, as they tend to this or that.

I’m not a big part of their life or anything.

But I like seeing the middle aged Chinese man in the window, when I’m walking home at night. I like seeing her come into frame, from time to time, and peek over his shoulder. I like seeing him fish out a morsel or a scrap for her to savor. I like seeing them happy, together.

Even if I’m the one who’s lonely now.

WednesDATE: Alienation

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by tri vo

Him:  How’s your night going?

Me:  Not bad.  I had a show earlier, and I met a few of my idiot friends out here for a night cap.  All in all, a decent showing for a Friday night, I guess…

Him:  What?  Why idiots?

Me:  Oh, I just call my friends idiots.  It’s a compliment, sort of.  They’re funny people, and we usually wind up acting like idiots.

Him:  I spent the evening alone.

Me:  I’m sorry to hear that.  Wait, by choice?

Him:  No, just out of a lack of things to do.

Me:  Oh, right, well then I’m sorry to hear that.

Him:  Are you looking for a boyfriend?

Me:  What?

Him:  Are you looking for a boyfriend?  Like, someone to settle down with?

Me:  I dunno.  I feel lonely sometimes.

Him:  I feel lonely all the time.  Completely alienated.  Even in a crowd.  Maybe especially.

Me:  I think I understand what you mean.  The world has become more alienating, somehow, as we increase our inter-connectivity with social media.

Him:  Haha…  Blame Facebook.  (pause) Yeah.  Facebook’s depressing.

Me:  How do you mean?

Him:  I wake up and check Facebook, and after a certain point i get depressed.

Me:  Can you say why?

Him:  It’s too much, maybe.  All these links and photos.  I saw pictures of my friends having a picnic, and I immediately got nostalgic.  I used to just GO on picnics.

Me:  Haha…  I can see your point.  Facebook has turned us all into voyeurs of the mundane.

Him:  I think it’s evil.  We used to call each other on the phone and catch up with each other, and now, instead we visit a friends Facebook page to scratch the itch of catching up with old friends.  But it’s not interactive.  It’s the illusion of interaction. 

Me:  Yeah.  I get where you’re going.  I try to keep my social media time as low as possible.  And I try to isolate what I think Facebook is good for, and just do that.

Him:  Like what?

Me:  One liner jokes and self promotion.

Him:  But that’s the problem.  Everyone’s like that now, and NOBODY’S looking for a boyfriend.

Me:  Haha…  I guess you’re hunting for one?

Him:  Yeah.  I’m really lonely.

Me:  I don’t like the idea of saying I’m looking for a  boyfriend.  I feel like it’s similar to saying ‘I don’t feel complete without being validated by somebody else.’

Him: Ugh.  That’s how everyone feels.  I just really want a boyfriend.  I don’t care if it’s not a popular point of view.

Me:  That’s pretty clear.  It’s been my experience that people fall in love when they’re ready to do it – when the meet the exact right match for it.  There’s no use putting it on a timetable, or trying to manufacture it.

Him:  Why not?

Me:  I dunno.  Don’t you think that there’s already a lot of pressure, without adding expectations?

Him:  It’s just that…  New York men are just looking for the next person to have sex with.  Nobody wants to settle down.  I liked it better in Berlin.

Me:  You lived in Berlin?

Him:  Yeah.

Me:  Of course you did.

Him:  In Berlin, everyone wants to have a boyfriend.  Then when they’ve been in a relationship for a little while, they start looking to ‘trade up.’

Me:  Sounds like Boyfriend Hopscotch.

Him:  Haha…  I guess so.  But I prefer it to this…

Me:  May I make an observation?

Him:  Okay. 

Me:  I think you might be depressed.

Him:  You might be right.  Aw.  That’s so disappointing.

Me:  What?

Him:  You’re not looking for a boyfriend.  But you’re going on a lot of dates.

Me:  I’m meeting a lot of people, and writing about it.

Him:  Yeah.  I guess.  Pardon me.  I have to check my phone.

Me:  Did you get a txt?

Him:  No.  I just want to check Facebook.

Me:  Ah.  Right.

Him:  Don’t put this on your blog and call me a Jerk.

Me:  I wouldn’t think of it.  This conversation barely qualifies as interesting.

Him:  Wow.  Now you’re being a Jerk.

Me:  I have my moments.

Advice

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

illustrations by lex millena

Hey Pie Guy,

My name is Kevin, and I wanted to write to you for a while now.  I’m having a problem and I wanted some advice – or maybe I just need to tell someone about it. 

I feel ugly all the time.  I’m not sure why this should be – I go to the gym a lot and in the past few years I’ve managed to carve out a pretty decent looking body.  I have nice arms and some semblance of abs, even.  But, I can’t seem to get guys my age to look at me, or hit on me. 

I should say that I’m 24 years old and Chinese American.  That shouldn’t make a difference, but it certainly does – at least where I live in Atlanta.  When I go out to gay bars, the only people that hit on me are creepy guys that are 15-20 years older than me.  I want to sleep with guys my own age, but they don’t look at me when I go out, and if I talk to them at the bar they seem mortified, or annoyed somehow.

I’ve had guys my own age even say ugly, racist things to me.  This cute, fratty looking guy was really drunk one night and when I went up to him to say hi, he sneered and said something to the effect of ‘me no want sucky sucky long time.’  I left immediately.  I’d never had someone call out my Asian identity like that in such a brutal, cruel way.  I left feeling inadequate and ashamed of myself. 

I tried asking out another guy that I thought was cute.  He told me I was very attractive, but he was a bottom only.  I said that’s okay cause I’m versatile and he laughed.  I was confused.  Then he said that he didn’t think he could let an Asian guy top him. 

I just don’t get it.  My penis is above average.  I’m a pretty attractive guy.  I take care of my body and it shows.  Why can’t I get people my own age to look at me as a viable sex partner?  Sometimes when I go out I get horny or drunk enough to go home with a guy who’s 40ish – but then I always go home feeling worse about myself than when I started.

I’m beginning to feel alienated and depressed.  I don’t know what to do. 

Thanks for reading this letter – I feel better just verbalizing these feelings.  You don’t have to answer, but I’d like to hear your thoughts. 

Thanks,

Kevin

Hey Kevin,

Thanks for writing in.  I’m upset and kind of angry to hear about the insensitive, racist things you’ve had to put up with.  That sucks.  I wish I could say that you’re just having a run of bad luck, and in a way you are – but I was also a bartender for years in a gay bar, and I can honestly say – racism is alive and well in the gay community.

However – I do think that there’s a lot of dialogue right now that counters that point of view.  I know that there’s a growing number of people in the gay community that think the idea of a racial sexual hierarchy is absurd.  I also know there’s a long way to go before Asian homosexuals can feel like the playing field is level in the gay dating world.  All you have to do is look at mainstream gay porn to see that Asians are an invisible minority.

I want you to know that you’re not alone, Kevin.  I want you to know that I feel depressed and alienated too, a lot of the time.  You’re not the only person that gets weirdos who are decades older than you hitting on them.  I wonder if you’d have better luck meeting gay guys on OkCupid or joining some sort of gay sports team, or club?  People are frequently at their worst when they’re hammered, and gays your age tend to drink until they’re wasted.

I do want you to know that there are plenty of people out there that find gay Asians attractive – that think of them as people, and not just asexual, bottom-only playthings.  Thanks for sending me photos of you – I can attest that yes, you are a very attractive guy, and if you lived in NYC I’d certainly hit on you.  The only advice I have is keep at it, Kev.  Try online dating too, and being social in non-alcohol related settings.  That might clear things up, a little.

One more thing.  Try to keep this in mind:  If someone says something racist, or callous to you in public?  That’s just them showing the world they’re an asshole.  Try not to let it get to you.  If you walk home ashamed of yourself or angry, then you let a worthless asshole steal your joy and ruin your night.  Don’t do that.

Be proud of yourself, Kevin.  You’re a very beautiful man.  You’re smart and sexy and wonderful.  Keep your head up.  Be proud.

Jerk.

The Ramble

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

ImageHim:  Hey.  ‘Sup.

Me:  Oh Jesus…

Him: What?

Me:  Nothing.  I just…  Hi.

Him:  Hi.

(a long pause)

Image

Him:  So, what’s up?

Me:  I’m just on a walk.

Him:  Cold day for a walk.

Me:  Well, I like walking in the cold.

Him: Is that so?

Me:  That is so.

(a long pause)

Image

Me:  No.  It isn’t so.

Him:  Ha.

Me:  It’s not what you think.

Him:  What do I think?

Me:  I think you think that I’m here to…  hang around in the park.

Him:  Hang around?

Me:  Stop.  You know.

(he glances at his crotch)

Him:  Maybe I do.

Image

Me:  Don’t do that.  I’m here to write about this.

Him:  Are you serious?  What do you mean?

Me:  I’m covering The Ramble for a lifestyle piece I’m working on.

Him:  Really??

Me:  Yeah.  Really.

Him:  Awman.  I gotta leave.

Me:  No, wait.  I’d like to ask you some questions, if you don’t mind.

Him:  I don’t know. 

Me:  Come on.

(long pause.  i glance at his crotch.)

Image

Him:  Okay.  But you can’t identify me.

Me:  You haven’t introduced yourself.

Him:  Good point.

Me:  What’s your name?  Just kidding.  What do you do for work?

Him:  I’m a prep cook at a restaurant.

Me:  What type of restaurant?

Him:  A hotel.

Me:  Faggy.

Him:  Shut up, I’m not…  Only a few of my friends even know I’m gay.

Me: Is that important to you?  That you pass for straight?

Him:  I guess so…  I guess.  I don’t like it when people think I look like a sissy.

Me:  Hm.

Image

Him:  I’m not ashamed of being gay.  But I don’t want everyone to know about it.  I don’t want to have to shout about it.

Me:  Okay.  How often do you come here for sex?

Him:  What? 

(long pause)

Him:  I don’t know.  Once a week.  Sometimes twice?

Me:  So the majority of your sex life happens out here, in the wild?

Him: Well, in the summer time, sure.  In the winter…  sometimes I go home with somebody.

Me:  Okay. 

Him: Is that weird?  I think it’s thrilling.  Like hunting…

Me:  Do you think it’s weird?

Him:  No, but I can tell you do.

Me:  No.  I don’t.  I don’t think it’s weird at all.  But I do think there might be a connection between your self-consciousness about people knowing you’re gay, and you conducting your sex life anonymously.  I mean… Don’t you think?

Image

Him:  No.  I don’t think about it that much.  It’s such a small part of who I am.

Me:  Really? 

Him:  Yeah.  Really.

Me:  Well… Sounds like you’re really good at compartmentalizing.

Him:  So?

(long pause)

Image

Me: So…  more power to you, I guess.

Him:  Hey.  You’re a decent guy. 

Me:  Thanks.

Him:  Wanna go behind those trees and blow each other?

Me:  I do not.  Thanks for chatting though.  I have to leave.

Him:  Don’t identify me.

Me: I don’t know who you are.  You never said.

Him:  Fair enough.  Jerk.

Image