Stop. Be still.

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tri vo studio

Him: Are you okay?

Me: No. Obviously.

Him: Stop. You look tired. Stop. Don’t. Don’t hug me. You always try to hug me.

Me: I need affection. Please hug me.

Him: Stop. Fine. Yes. Here. Hug me.

Me: Thanks. Let’s lie down?

Him: No, I’m not here for that. I’m here for you.

Me: I’m fine.

Him: You’re not.

Me: I am. I’m fine.

Him: No, Michael. You’re not. You’re not fine at all. Some very traumatic things happened. You’re trying to act like you’re fine, but you’re bouncing off the walls. Be still.

Me: I can’t. I don’t. I don’t have time for being still, not for one second. I have so much to do.

Him: Why am I here? Why did I come over here? Do you know?

Me: Kiss me.

Him: Stop. No. Stop.

Me: I need affection. Hug me again.

Him: Okay fine. What happened?

Me: Lots of stuff.

Him: How was LA?

Me: It wasn’t as nice as I’d hoped it would be.

Him: Are people mean?

Me: Uh. Some of them are, yes. Extremely.

Him: You mean at the Network?

Me: No. I mean other comedy types that I thought were my friends.

Him: How was the Network?

Me: They were nice enough.  I had no idea what I was auditioning for. I had to stay in my hotel room for three days straight while they grilled me about who I was. I was isolated. I quit my job, lost Alex over it, and I got so exhausted that I might have showed too much ‘realness’ in the final interview.

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Him: Wait, you lost Alex over it?

Me: He was terrified of being alone for six weeks. Maybe he just didn’t really love me to begin with, though? Soon as he said yes to moving in with me, the smiles stopped.

Him: He stopped smiling at you?

Me: Yes. He would look for reasons to provoke me. He wouldn’t smile. He wouldn’t eat food I made, even when I knew he’d skipped dinner. I got a few promotions, and career advancements. He wouldn’t show up to celebrate them.

Him: Wow.

Me: He left me right when I needed him most. He left during the hardest callback process of my life. Whywouldyoudothattosomeone?

Him: Michael. Slow down. Things are fine now, right?

Me: Sure?

(long pause)

Me: I hate this so much.

Him: Stop.

Me: Lie down next to me.

Him: Stop.

Me: That’s why you’re here.

Him: Stop. Stop pacing around. You’re crawling out of your skin.

Me: Why did he do this?  I hate this the most. I told him I didn’t want a relationship but he kept at it. He kept coming over.

Him: You need to be still. People play games. They don’t even know they’re doing it.

Me: Somewhere along the line he stopped smiling at me. Started making me beg for affection. Cruel. I had to work so hard for every morsel.

Him: That’s how us Asian boys act when we don’t get monogamy.

Me: I offered him monogamy.

(pause)

Him: You offered him monogamy?

(pause)

Him: What did he say?

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Me: He told me it was too late – that I should have wanted monogamy the whole time. That I should have known when I met him. I told him the next time he tries to change the mind of a grown man, expect it to take much longer than 8 months.

Him: Hm…  That doesn’t sound right. That sounds like an excuse. Maybe he’s just a kid? Maybe he doesn’t know what he wants?

Me: People are cat-fishing me now, online. They’re making up fake profiles in order to say cruel things. Why is everyone so awful?

Him: Stop. Be still. Okay. Lie down. I’ll lie down with you.

Me: Kiss me?

Him: No. Just lie here with me. I want you to be still. It’s okay to cry, but don’t move. Just be still. I’m going to touch your face a little.

(he touches my face. tears slip out of me. we are quiet for a long time.)

Me: (whispered) He tricked me. I don’t trust anybody now. He took that away.

Him: Stop. You trust too much anyhow.

Me: No. Not anymore.

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(long silence. i am still. my diaphragm shakes.)

Him: Stop.

(long silence. tremors build inside me.)

Him: Still. Be still.

(long silence. i control the tremors)

Him: Good. Still.

(i turn away. i am still. i breathe, but not too deep. he starts to snooze. he has no idea i’m still crying)

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-3

Jerk-aholic

IMG_3012 as Smart Object-1

Mallory Schlossberg is a writer and performer in New York City. She lives in Brooklyn, and blogs at www.schlossed-by-mallory.tumblr.com. You can follow her on twitter @ malloryschloss.

Me: I have to go after brunch. I have a lot to do. I have to work on my proposal, and I have to read a bunch of books for it.

Him: That makes sense. To compare it to?

Me: Yeah. I mean, but I like the book I’m reading now.

Him: Yeah.

Me: I’ve never had brunch before.

Him: What?

Me: I usually work on the weekends. And I never had somebody to have brunch with before.

Him: Well, baby, you’re havin’ brunch today!

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Him: So…what do you like to do in the summers?

Me: Um. . . I don’t know. I mean, last summer I worked on my show a lot. I did it twice.

Him: You don’t like, go to the beach?

Me: Well, I don’t know. The summer to me is just an extension of the rest of the year, except I’m wearing shorts. And I never really had anyone to go with. When I have free time, I take on projects, classes. I work on my show.

Him: I love going to the beach. I went to Fort Tilden last year.

Me: That’s the nude beach.

Him:  It is?

Me: Oh! That’s Vampire Weekend.

Him: It is?

Me: Yeah. I was supposed to see them in concert a few years ago, but I got the flu.

Him: They describe themselves as Upper West Side Soweto.

Me: Huh?

Him: Do you know what that is?

Me: No.

Him: It’s South African music. Upper West Side South African. That’s disgusting.

Me: Um, well, I like their music.

IMG_2985 as Smart Object-1

 Him: So, there’s something that’s been bothering me.

Me: Yeah?

Him: All you ever talk about is work.

Me: What do you mean?

Him: Like. What your’e working on. Your proposal. Your show. Improv.  It’s like, all you do.

Me:  I mean… I don’t get paid to do what I love. So it doesn’t feel like work. And it’s what I love. It’s what I like to talk about.

Him: But I mean, earlier. You told me you were reading a book for your proposal. Why don’t you instead tell me what the book is about.

Me: Okay. It’s called “My Boyfriend Wrote A Book About Me.” It’s about this woman whose boyfriend wrote a book about her. And then she tells stories about her life post-break up. It’s funny.

Him: See! That’s a conversation! I’m reading a book (I tune out.)

Me: Oh. Wow. Really?

Him: Yeah. I’m enjoying it.

Me: I don’t always talk about work. I work a lot. But it’s not work. I’m bothered that you said that.

Him: Well, I did. And I was really worried about this, but then I saw you and I knew everything was going to be fine.

Me: I love what I do.

Him: And that’s great – but listen. I have passions, too. I moonlight as a video game designer.

Me:  I’m not here in New York to teach SAT prep. And you have to realize you met me at a weird time because of the holidays. It’s going to be different soon – I won’t be around as much. I’m a really busy person.

Him: But you do work a lot. And I don’t want it to be – you come home, I come home, we have dinner, and then we have sex. I mean, sex is great, but I’m not going to remember sex. I am going to remember a picnic. I like picnics. Olives, bread. I want to make memories. Go to the park. Go to that movie theater in Dumbo and get a six pack.

Me: I need to get a bike. Want to help me get one?

Him: YES! See, I love that you asked me that.

Me: I also need to get my library card. Wanna come with me?

Him: YES! See, I like this. Doing stuff together.

Me: I’ve never really had someone to do these things with. So I guess I don’t know what I like to do. Besides comedy and art stuff. I’m just not used to this sort of…

Him: Mallory. You’re writing a book about dating OkCupid boys. Now your’e dating a man. Things are different.

Me: I want to go dancing.

Him: Let’s go. Let me get your coat.

Me: (I see someone I know) Hi! How are you! (back to him) That’s someone I know from improv.

Him: Oh. Okay… Cool.

Me: I still don’t like what you said before.

Him: What? I was worried about something, and we talked about it, and I feel so much better about it now. Let’s go. (he takes out his iPhone) I want to take a picture of us and send it to my mom. (Click) Ah, came out too dark.

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photos, tri vo

guest edited by samuel lindeman.

-4

 

L.A. Story #3: Where’s Your Voice?

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Him: It’s steep. I told you not to wear Converse, Michael.

Me: Eh. I’ve hiked the Adirondack trail in Converse. I bet I’ll be fine.

Him: I forgot to tell you how steep it is. Where’s my car?

Me: I don’t know?

Him: I took a photo of the street signs. It’s okay. I know how to find it. Don’t worry so much?

Me: I wasn’t – Fischer –

Him: I’ve been here for 6 weeks, Michael I know how to get around.

Me: Okay.

Him: Don’t walk over there! It’s really steep! What if someone came up and pushed you?

Me: I’m four feet away from the edge. Also, if someone pushed me that person would be a murderous sociopath. I prefer the company of narcissistic sociopaths, personally.

Him: This is way deeper than it needs to be. Look at the canyon!

Me: I’m looking. It’s beautiful.

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Him: Look around – do you see any recognizable faces?

Me: Yeah. Everyone sort of looks like everyone else. Part of that is conformity, probably. Part of that is surgery, probably.

Him: Do you know that to be true?

Me: I’ve been in town four days, three of which I was sequestered by Network.

Him: So you’re just making blind assumptions.

Me: I’m just making jokes.

Him: Well, people could be listening.

Me: Good. I think my jokes are funny, sometimes.  Maybe they’ll give me a dollar? You’ve only been here three weeks, by the way.

Him: Doesn’t mean I’m not careful what I say and when.

Me: Let’s yell really loud into the canyon and listen for the echo.

Him: OMG no! Is that Aubrey Plaza?

Me: No. Aubrey is prettier than her. Also, she’s gabbing away. Aubrey listens and judges.

Him: How do you know?

Me: I might’ve been on an improv team with her, once upon a time.

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Him: REALLY?

Me: Who can remember? Ancient history.

Him: Introduce me to her!

Me: She’s not here! But that’s Gus Van Sant.

Him: Let’s get a photo with him.

Me: I’m joking. That’s not him. He lives in Williamsburg. That’s a Pilates instructor that takes screenwriting classes on Thursday afternoons.

Him: Michael, people could be listening to you!

Me: They should be listening to you. Are you singing?

Him: I don’t sing anymore. I want to write television and that’s the only thing I care about.

Me: You have a lovely voice. Frank and I had our eye on you. You probably would have made a team.

Him: You’re not my teacher anymore, Michael. This is Los Angeles.

Me: Yes.

(pause)

Me: It certainly is, Fischer.

(pause)

IMG_5007

Me: Even at Peg’s apartment you wouldn’t sing. Even just in front of the dogs.

Him: I don’t know about my voice. It has problems.

Me: It’s a legit musical theater voice. You have a great voice. I want to hear you sing my songs.

Him: Could we make money selling songs?

Me: We certainly could.

Him: How’s that done?

Me: I imagine you go over to Gaga’s house and sing her a song you wrote on your uke.

Him: That’s too twee. Also she writes her own.

Me: That’s true. Gaga has actual writing talent. But quite a few pop stars don’t.

Him: People could be listening.

Me: Fischer.

Him: What?

Me: You’re my friend.

Him: So?

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Me: So, I know this is L.A. but let’s just pretend this is New York, for a sec? Let’s just pretend, Fischer, that it’s totally okay to just talk without getting incredibly paranoid Stephen Spielberg might be listening to us. He has bigger problems than two homos talking philosophy. Trust me.

Him: It’s not the type of conversation you have on Runyon Canyon.  I think that’s Omarosa.

Me: It’s not. It’s Michelle Obama.

Him: Really?!

Me: Who cares?!

(pause)

Me: I think it’s Serena. No – Beyonce. No – Miley. It’s Miley.

Him: Don’t walk so close to the edge!

Me: Why did you stop singing? Where’s your lovely voice, Fischer?

Him: I don’t. I don’t want to perform.

Me: If you want to sell a song, you gotta sing a song.

Him: I just want to write.

Me: All the best comedy writers I know perform all the time.

Him: I don’t have to. Don’t walk so close to the edge!

Me: You’re right. I’m going to run the rest of the way.

Him: What? Why?!

Me: We have to remind ourselves to do brave things, sometimes, Fischer. Otherwise we wind up moving to Hollywood with a beautiful voice – and then become too shy to even sing.

Him: What? Stop! Don’t!

Me: See you at the bottom of the canyonnnnnnnnn!

(I run away, singing, and flailing my arms. Fischer looks mortified. Paris Hilton is amused, then annoyed. Also, she wasn’t there at all.)

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L.A. Story #2: Take Your Time

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Hand Made Whipped Marshmallow Ganache with Graham Cracker Crust – by Jocelyn Guest

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Me: Tao Yan! Thanks for answering! You sound so pretty.

Him: Oh, brother.

Me: You do!

Him: People don’t sound pretty.

Me: You do. I love your voice. I can picture you in my head, now. I was forgetting what your face looked like – scary. Now it’s so clear in my mind. You’re the prettiest guy I ever…

Him: Michael. Please don’t –

Me:  See, now, see – thing is, I’ve had a lot of time to think, and I think we should just think about that fight as an accident, right? Like an emotional accident. Forgive and forget, right?

(long pause)

Him: I can’t do that.

Me: Stop. I forgave you the next day. It’s not the first time a boyfriend has Sherlock Holmes’ed my phone.

Him: Sherlock Holmes’ed?

Me: When you look through someone’s phone. Because Sherlock Holmes is always looking for clues and schmausing around where he wasn’t invited.

(long pause.)

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Me: I already forgave you for that. We’ve all read Anne Frank’s diary, after all. It’s the modern equivalent.

(long pause)

Him: …….. yay….   you made a joke…..

(long pause)

Me: Come home?

Him: You’re not even home. You ran away to L.A.

Me: It was a job interview! They had me sequestered in a hotel for three days and wouldn’t let me talk to other people. It was bizarre and kind of scary. I missed you the whole time.

Him: You fucked that guy, and you told me you didn’t.

Me: No. I didn’t.

Him: Yes you did.

Me: I didn’t.

Him: Yesyoufuckingdid!

Me: NO. I forgot to mention the awkward-grope-of-a-non-fuck we had. It was late, and we’d both been socializing a lot that night. Boners were hard to come by. It was more like rolling around.

Him: The rule was you have to tell me everything.

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Me: Untrue. Stop grandstanding. I love you. Please, just let it go and love me back?

Him: You were supposed to tell me everything!

Me: According to what conversation? We talked about this a million times and set forth a million ways for it to work! You said you’d want to know every single detail, and I thought a kiss-and-tell model would be un-weildy.

Him: And look what happened. You’re gone, and I’m dealing with your mess.

Me: Stop it. We had an STD scare. Stop making it a huge thing. Seriously. I’ve been a fag for 20 years. This is level 3 panic mode. You’re giving me a 9.

Him: You hurt me!

Me: You don’t know this, because I was busy calling you a thief, and a liar, and just generally awful the night I found out you betrayed my trust – but me and Kyle didn’t even have sex.

(pause)

Me: Sorry. The word ‘betray’ sounds biblical. You just had a lapse of judgement, probs.

(long pause)

Me: You read what you read, Sherlock. You think you know what went down? Judge, jury, executioner?

(pause)

Me: I didn’t fuck him.

(long pause)

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Me: We were tipsy. We could barely even get our clothes off. It was a mistake.

Him: I told you about Skinny Guy, and you told me about Montreal Jimmy.

Me: And we had a threesome with Art World Guy, don’t forget.

Him: Exactly. Things were getting out of control.

Me: Stop. That’s your fear talking. That’s not so much indiscretion. I fucked up cause I didn’t tell you about one thing that was ultimately a debacle. You’re using this as an excuse to try to leave me because you feel abandoned. I’m coming back in a week, whether I book this gig or not.

Him: This won’t work for me. You don’t believe in monogamy.

Me: Maybe I don’t, but I believe in you and me.

Him: What’s that supposed to mean?

Me: It means I’d be monogamous for you, if you wanted to settle down. Pay a mortgage. Grab a foster kid and see if we’re good dads? Start a business?

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(long pause)

Me: We have a few weeks until March 1st. Will you think about it?

(long pause)

Me: You’re the first person I’ve been able to give my heart to in a long time. This is awful, being away from you, having you break my heart when I’m trying to book the best gig of my life. Just come home.

(long pause)

Me: Will you think about it at least? I need you on my side. I love you so hard. All this bickering lately will settle down once we live together. I’ve been through this phase of a relationship before.

(long pause)

Me: Think about it?

(long pause)

Him: Okay.

Me: Take your time. I’ll be home soon.

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20130213-215851.jpg

-3

Letters

piefolk_tkha42

piefolk_tkha38tommy kha

Hi Michael, 

 

I’ve been following you on piefolk for a few months now, and I see that you reply to some fan mail. Just wanted to let you know you’re hilarious and awesome for putting it together. 

Your blog’s been more than just soft core, its posts especially like No Straight Potential that remind me how big and limitless the world is when I’m down. 
I’m 19 and attending UCLA right now and I imagine the east coast to be a wonderful place full of the hottest comedians. 

If ever I get the chance to visit new york city.. I’d love to get a picture with you (as naked as possible) 

 

Thanks for amusing me many a evenings. 
Chris W

Thanks Chris.

‘More Than Soft Core’ is going to become this year’s motto. No, wait – Turn It Yes is this year’s motto. Oh well. Maybe next year I’ll be more than soft core.

Both coasts have nice people, but if you come visit I’ll definitely show you around the comedy scene a bit, and photograph with you.  Next time capitalize PIEFOLK when you write to me, Jerk.

You’re beautiful, brother.

piefolk_tkha14

(From Tumblr)

beverlycrusher asked: So listen, I make aprons, and I’ve read your site forever and it makes me want to make you an apron. Is that a thing? Is that a weird thing? I’m not entirely certain.

It’s a thing. Paulo Raymundo already made an apron for me, and he’s a fancy designer. I would be flattered and giddy if you made an apron for me. Contact me at piefolk@gmail.com for more dialogue about this. You’re lovely!

piefolk_tkha30

vaccinium asked: Hey! You probably don’t remember me, but we spoke a few times on a website that’s now shut down; Dlist. That was not too long after I had started telling people I’m gay, and reading through your blog helped me a lot in relation to feeling less isolated in my sexuality. Also, you’re an amazing guy in general, and reading your posts just gave me this great feeling, knowing there are considerate people like you in the world 😛 Anyway, I was wondering, why have you started updating tumblr again?

Good question. I quit my temp job recently to pursue ‘being myself for a living.’ That means more tumblr posts, and social media in general.

I’m glad you’re feeling less alienated. It hurts my heart to think about gay people suffering in isolation. Don’t let other people make you feel ashamed of being yourself. Just go be yourself as hard as you can. It’s the best gift you can give – to yourself and the world.

piefolk_tkha32

-2

No Straight Potential

Screen Shot 2013-02-15 at 1.05.31 AM

I was feeling lonely in LA.

Some blog followers and former students pointed me to these guys.

They were very sweet to me, and we played cards all night long.

Gays helping gays. The most beautiful thing in the world.

That, and the Asian kid from Walking Dead. He’s also beautiful.

If you’re feeling lonely, I suggest you invest in your community.

Maybe that’s starting a gay poker game.

Maybe that’s joining a gay improv theater.

Maybe that’s auditioning for a community theater play, or doing a stand up open mic.

Point is, once you start saying yes to yourself, and other people, the world opens right on up.

Invest in yourself. Invest in your community. Side by side. All together. In harmony.

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-1

Starbucks, Part 2

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Him: Ew. I can’t believe you took me to Starbucks.

Me: You’re welcome.

Him: Did it sound like I was thanking you?

Me: Oh, no – not by any means. But I did pay for your Chai tea.

Him: Wow. I guess you want a hand job now or something?

Me: Uh. No. That’s fine.

Him: I give good hand jobs.

Me: That’s great.

Him: Oh, sorry – maybe you want to go have procreative sex with a woman instead.

Me: I can assure you that I don’t want to do that. Well… Maybe…

Him: EWAREYOUSERIOUS?

Me: I mean, I don’t necessarily want to have sex with a woman. I’ve just been feeling a tug toward raising a kid lately. It’s not even a real thing. I don’t have the money I would need to raise a kiddo.

Him: Let me guess, you work with straight people too.

Me: I work with a mix of people, but yes, they’re mostly straight.

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Him: Ew.

Me: Ew?

Him: Ew, I find that distasteful. Everyone I work with is gay, on purpose.

Me: What?

Him: We only hire gay people. Plus, one black lady we thought was a lesbian but just had a short haircut.

Me: You only hire gay people to work in your graphic design department?

Him: That’s right.

Me: That’s illegal.

(long pause)

Him: I suppose you work alongside straight people.

Me: I do.

Him: Shudder. Did you like that? I’m announcing my shudder.

Me: I…

Him: How can you do that? How can you work with them?

Me: I have to? I do comedy. I don’t know of many comedy venues that are solely LGBT.

Him: You could be a drag queen.

Me: With these shoulders? Hardly.

Him: Hahahahaha! You said something funny! I’m surprised.

(long pause)

Me: Thanks.

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Him: I can’t do it. I can’t work alongside them. No. No, thanks. They’re so privileged  and they don’t even know it. They’re awful.

Me: They’re wonderful.

Him: Don’t they say condescending things?

Me: No. They’re usually supportive.

Him: What about when you mention gay rights?

Me: I don’t think very many of them are connected to the issue.

Him: Right. And I suppose you don’t remind them of the reality? That most teen suicides are gay teen suicides? That, in most states, the family will take an inherited estate away from a long term gay partner? That there’s still no such thing as federal immigration equality when dealing with international gay marriage? That they still beat, intimidate, and lynch us all across the country?

Me: That’s not water cooler talk.

(pause)

Me: It’s worse in some countries.

Him: Yeah, it is. In Jamaica they’ll straight up kill you, and not go to jail, but is that something I should be thankful for? Should I thank the straight police officer for not lynching me on my way to work? And what about adoption rights? Statistically, it’s more difficult for gay men to adopt children than any other minority group – and that’s a world wide statistic. Never mind the countries where if you’re admittedly gay, adoption is simply out of the question.

Me: Isn’t it a little easier if you’re interested in adopting a non-white baby? Can’t you foster to adopt?

Him: Yes. You can take an AIDS baby from Africa, or a kleptomaniac ten year old from Appalachia if you want. You can have anything the straight people don’t want. You can cut their hair. You can cut their lawn. You can decorate their house. But then you have to get out.

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Me: I…

Him: You have to get the fuck out! They don’t want you. They think you’re disgusting. Because your love isn’t good enough. Your love isn’t worth as much – or anything! You don’t get to have the same basic rights and protections they do because they think they’re better than you. No. No thanks. I won’t do it. I won’t work alongside them. Bad enough I have to look at them on the subway.

Me: Hey. I get it. I have anger too.

Him: Anger? Anger. Fuck your anger. That doesn’t even begin to cover my outrage. I’m livid. I’m crawling out of my skin I’m so disgusted with them.

Me: They don’t all believe those things you said.

Him: Most of them do.

Me: How do you know?

Him: LOOK AT THE LAWS THEY MAKE AGAINST US. Are you an idiot?

Me: Only professionally.

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Him: Well, I don’t know what I can do to help you.  If you can’t see what’s right in front of your face then ‘professional idiot’ might be the best move for you.

Me: Hey –

Him: No. Go hang out with your masters. Go lick the boot pressed firmly against your neck.

Me: That sounds pretty dramatic.

Him: What do you want from me?

Me: I just want to talk.

Him: Well are you happy? We talked. Thanks for the shitty Chai. I’m leaving now.

(pause)

Him: Jerk.

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Gay Dogs

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My pal Eliot Glazier was nice enough to ask me to voice-over a comedy short.

It’s very funny – so is Eliot.

Thanks, buddy!

piefolk_tkha51

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Interview with Hank Chen

March 2, 2011 PiefolkLex Millena

Remember three or four months ago when I was accused of being racist by five uber-hipster undergrads in rural England?

No?

Remember? They had a shittily-formatted blog with half-baked ideas about how i’m racist. They used the fact that I sometimes feature people of color (and the fact that sometimes I don’t) to extrapolate a systematic and insidious racism that I’m participating in and possibly orchestrating?

No? You don’t remember? It was a few months ago. Here, I’ll remind you – I reacted to it immediately and my comedy friends who know and love me came to my rescue and shouted them down on their own blog. Nobody else commented or supported them. Remember?

It was such a small thing. Maybe I shouldn’t expect you to remember. It was for a class project, and I’m pretty sure they failed. I contacted their professor. Do you remember this at all, dear reader?

No?

Well Hank Chen does. And, he wants to talk about it for 11 minutes.

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eryc perez de tagle

I’m giving Hank a lot of shit, but it’s good natured. I’m glad he’s outspoken and wants to talk about things like this. I’m glad his readers (for the most part) have decided to side with me on this issue. Hank, thanks for having me on your vlog to talk about this important event that nobody cares about.

It’s important to start a dialogue about these things. Hank is very brave to do that.

Carry on Rice Queens, Potato Queens, Kinksters, Fetishists, Monogamists, Polyamorists, Straights, Bis, Gays, Trannies, Lesbos, Curry Queens, Bean Queens, Plushies, Spankers, Barebackers, Stressed-Out-Neo-Victorian Gays, Old School 70’s Gays, Twinks, Bears, Blesbians, Radical Faeries, Log Cabin Republicans, Gay Jews, G’Atheists, and Poodle Fuckers.

I made the Poodle Fucker thing up, but you get the idea. Carry on.

And don’t let anyone shame you for speaking your mind.

Unless your ideas are stupid.

Then, keep your mouth shut, Sarah Palin.

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