Sometimes this is my reason for living:
Tag: michael martin
The Closet
Hey Michael,
First off, your site is amazing! Its really interesting to read, and funny too! Although I could spend the rest of this message praising your site, the real reason I’m writing is because I’ve got a problem.
I just turned 20 and I am in the closet (mostly), mainly due to the fact that I go to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. I just finished my sophomore year and at the end of the summer I will have to sign a document stating that the next seven years of my life will be devoted to the service of the Navy or Marine Corps. I know that I could be successful as an military officer, but I can’t help feeling that I am completely off my rocker for a few reasons.
First, even with the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, I feel like coming out this fall would just cause me more problems than it is actually worth. Many of the people at my school would give me a lot of shit and I’d rather not deal with that if possible. Second, I feel that I would be defending a country where many people believe that I shouldn’t have the same rights as everyone else.
Don’t get me wrong, America is a great place and overall should be defended. Surprisingly, I really like going to school at the Naval Academy and like most of the people there too. I just feel that I can’t talk to any of my friends about this since they wouldn’t understand the situation and I want to get input from different people before I make the final decision whether to sign or not. Thanks so much!
W.T. Door
Hey, W. T.
Thanks for your kind words. It’s nice to know people are reading.
It sounds like you’ve got two issues here. Allow me to order them for you?
#1: You want to know if you should pull the trigger and sign the contract on a military career.
Yes. You should. You’re there for a reason. You’ve spent all this time there for a reason. You’re good at this, and you’re drawn to it. That’s a great thing. It’s great to know at a young age what you’re good at and why. Most young men your age don’t have that blessing, to know what they’re passionate about/good at. You should sign the contract.
Part of your argument seems to be your reservations about whether or not you should be defending a country that won’t allow you the same rights as everyone else. I hear that. You’re probably angry. I know I am. I’m angry at Straight people in America for silently watching as a smaller faction of militant bullies deny Gays their civil rights.
Even so, part of what makes your narrative so compelling is that willingness and proclivity toward doing just that: defending a nation of people that still denies you your rights. There’s a real shortage of gay role models out there – people who will stand up and live an open, naked, unashamed life, and participate in the world that seems to exclude them. You should be one of those gay role models. You already inspire me as such, and I can’t wait to see what you’re capable of.
#2 You want to know if you should come out of the closet and conduct your military career as an openly gay homosexual.
Yes. Yes you should.
How can you possibly be the inspiring role model I already know you to be, if nobody knows you’re Gay?
I know it will be difficult. Possibly even fraught with peril. I grew up openly Gay in a very rural, difficult area of central Florida. It wasn’t easy. People resented me and ostracized me. I remember once getting hit in the head with a thrown rock, at my lunch table.
But, I worked harder. I was more charming, nicer, and harder working than straight boys needed to be. I never apologized for who I was, nor was I content to shrink up into a marginalized back seat, and wait for the Straights to decide what was what for me. For better or for worse, I threw myself into their society.
That’s what you should do, too.
I know. You must be thinking, hey, this is Annapolis – not your high school. True enough. But still, without people like you – how can we ever hope for a world where there is gender, race, or sexual orientation equality?
Doesn’t our fight deserve a few brave, open soldiers?
Ask yourself this:
Would you rather live your life as a positive gay role model? Or would you rather cower as a closeted gay workaholic who desperately hopes his true self doesn’t leak out around the edges at social functions? I think you know the answer.
You’ve already made a whole lot of brave choices in your life that led you to Annapolis. Now you have to continue that tradition. Do it for the brave openly Gay people that have come before you. Do it for your terrified brothers who live their lives in the closet. Do it for your country.
But most of all – do it for yourself.
Bryan
This is Bryan. He is a sweet boy. He is studying advertising here in New York City.
He wanted to help me make a pie.
What was I gonna do, say no?
Me: We’re making Banana Cream.
Him: Good thing that’s my favorite.
Me: Yes it is a good thing.
Him: I suppose it is.
Me: I suppose I agree.
Him: I suppose I do too.
There was a lot of supposing going on.
Me: So you’re a student?
Him: That’s right. I study advertizing at SVA.
Me: Sounds fun.
Him: It’s a lot of work. I work almost every day of my life. I have like, three jobs.
Me: Really? Me too!
Him: Oh?
Me: Yup. I bake specialty pies for benefits and celebrities. I do comedy. I also do commercial acting.
Him: What’s that?
Me: Acting for commercials.
Him: Have you done anything I might have seen?
Me: No. Regional spots outside New York, and online stuff for boring companies that do things like make pressed aluminum. Exciting.
Him: I suppose.
Me: I suppose not. But I get by.
(Uh… This didn’t really happen. We didn’t really have a Lady and the Tramp moment with a banana. You’re imagining things)
Him: I cook and clean up after a guy who pays me to do that for him.
Me: Doioioioioioioing!
Him: What’s that?
Me: That’s the sound of me getting a boner thinking about you cleaning someone’s house and cooking for them, naked.
Him: I didn’t say naked.
Me: I have a very active imagination. Let me have my fantasy.
Him: I suppose I will.
Me: What’s your family like?
Him: My dad was a jerk. My mom worked her ass off every day to support him. He was a drunk to end all drunks.
Me: Was? Did he die?
Him: No. But he’s gone now.
Me: Oh.
Him: Yeah. It really motivated me to get up and do something with my life. Even if I have to work really hard to achieve it, like I am now.
Me: That sounds about right. I’m proud of you.
Him: You don’t even know me!
Me: Even so. I’m proud.
Him: Hm.
Me: Hold up. Where did that bootie come from?
Him: Ha. Do I have a butt?
Me: No, you have two of them.
Him: Heh.
Me: Usually you don’t see a butt like that on a guy your size.
Him: I did a lot of bike riding back in Jersey. 6 miles a day or so.
Me: Well. Remind me to thank the good people at Schwinn.
Him: Why?
Me: Doioioioioioioioing!!!
Him: Stop it, weirdo.
Me: Hm.
Him: I really like this neighborhood.
Me: Me too.
Him: I’m moving here in 10 days.
Me: What?
Him: I’ll be living a few blocks from here.
Me: Uh oh. That sounds like it could be trouble.
Him: It might be.
Me: Uh oh.
Him: Don’t get your hopes up. Jerk.
Conversations
Him: His face looks a little Aids Walk.
Me: Maybe, but if he’s in his early forties it’s quite possible that he’s just been binge drinking for 20 years. It might not be Aids Walk at all.
Him: Then again, it might.
Me: Yes. Well the only way to know is to ask.
Him: My butthole is both the fountain of youth and the BQE.
Me: Frequently renewing, and refreshing. Sometimes clogged. Always a good way to get where you’re going.
Him: OMG is that Sean Hayes?
Me: No, that’s a drag queen.
Him: I know, but is it Sean Hayes?
(pause)
Me: Looks like it.
Me: What are the three things gays enjoy most on a Sunday afternoon?
Him: Meryl Streep, Sauvignon Blanc, and Poppers Florentine.
Me: True… Meryl will take any movie it seems…
Him: And YOU’LL watch it, like a good homo.
Me: Also true!
Him: Ever since I started sleeping with other people of color I have to worry less about hiding my valuables in my oven when I get lucky.
Me: You hide your valuables in your oven?
Him: Just my passport and my wallet. White people are kleptomaniacs.
Me: We are?
Him: Yes. There’s a Winona Ryder inside all of you.
Me: I thought it was a bossy Jewish man inside of me.
Him: That was yesterday.
Me: If only.
Him: Whoops. You just farted.
Me: Yes. I’m rotten inside.
Him: That’s more than rotten. What happened to you?
Me: I don’t know. Something crawled inside me and died?
Him: Ugh. It’s TERRIBLE. You should check your underwear.
Me: I’m pretty sure I didn’t shit my pants, but it does feel like maybe there’s some parts of shredded pancreas or kidney I might have lost.
Him: Rough.
Me: I’m pretty sure I have two pancreases right? It’ll be fine.
Him: Light a match.
Him: You look nice tonight.
Me: Thanks! I showered and prepped myself. I might try to get lucky tonight.
Him: What’s ‘prep’ yourself mean?
Me: Oh, you know, shave, pluck the uni-brow, enema, cute outfit.
Him: Planning on bottoming?
Me: Not necessarily. But who knows who I’ll meet?
Him: You smell good.
Me: I just wiped vanilla extract all over my junk.
Him: SERIOUSLY?
Me: It’s a phase. I have to keep pushing myself to change and grow, and vanilla extract on my satchel is part of the process.
Him: Really?
Me: No. I’m just weird.
Me: Hey, you look really good.
Him: Hey, wow. I can’t go to Williamsburg without running into you.
Me: I like running into you. I miss you.
Him: I know. I miss you too.
(pause)
Him: (clears throat) So, there’s free BBQ if you buy a drink.
Me: I know. It’s just about the best thing in the world, right?
(pause)
Me: You look pretty. Oh my God, look at you smile. Look at that smile!
Him: Stop. We don’t talk like that anymore.
Me: We can if we want to.
Him: I don’t want you to.
Me: Okay.
Him: I think we’re going to go do Karaoke in K Town.
Me: Sounds fun.
Him: It’s extremely Asian.
Me: Just like me. I’m extremely Asian. Just kidding. I’m white.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: Apparently it means that I’m a klepto. Can I have a hug, before you leave?
(long pause)
Him: Okay. But then I gotta go.
(long pause)
Jerk.
Hallelujah
Dan Paul and Robbie came over for some singing.
We covered a Leonard Cohen song.
Enjoy the holiday, Jerks.
Question
So I’m reading your blog entry on what homos dwell in what hood and I think you’re partially right. I’m a middle management gay in Hells Kitchen, but I’m only mildly cunty and only at work or when dealing with someone in the real estate business. Also, I believe Mr. Sondheim lives in Midtown East (like Turtle Bay-ish) which is technically above Grammercy. I only know this because I used to live in that neighborhood and I’m pretty sure he and I were the only two homos there. Except for when he had one locked in his dungeon. I think he was next-door neighbors w/ Katherine Hepburn. If we meet, remind me to do my impression of Katherine Hepburn starting a car.
Anyways, I gather from some of your blog posts that you are an improver of some sort? And perhaps you teach as well? I just started level III and it’s kicking my ass. I feel remarkably exhausted and unfunny at the end of each class (I’ve only had 2 so far). This is a change from the previous classes I took where I always left feeling some sort of “performance high”. Ugh…it’s just not as fun. And it’s not the teacher’s fault. I like him and everything he says makes sense. He’s supportive and everything. While I understand that no two classes are alike, I’m wondering if this is common. I’m not sure that you can speak to it, but I don’t have any friends that have done this kind of stuff.
And if you know nothing of improv and I’m confusing you w/ another blog, please feel free to direct some Hells Kitchen-esque cuntiness at me.
Thanks,
Timmy
Hey Timmy,
First things first. Thanks so much for writing in. I love getting letters from fans, frienemies, and ass wipes. You seem like a nice guy. Sweet and genuine.
Okay, on to your letter:
I’m a middle management gay in Hells Kitchen, but I’m only mildly cunty and only at work or when dealing with someone in the real estate business.
Ha. Right. And I’m getting pregnant this year, after I learn to levitate. I don’t believe you. Gays are cunty with each other in crowds. Fact. It’s very rare that I go to a Gay bar that has zero snark. The Metropolitan can be cunt free, but usually that’s in the day times, during the BBQ parties, before everyone gets wasted. Cunty is a language we speak to each other. Generally it works like this: two or three gays group together and then snark all over pop culture, politics, or other gays across the room. Are you sure you haven’t participated in this phenomenon?
Also, I believe Mr. Sondheim lives in Midtown East (like Turtle Bay-ish) which is technically above Grammercy.
Thanks for fixing the set up of my joke. Jerk. 🙂
If we meet, remind me to do my impression of Katherine Hepburn starting a car.
Or playing checkers, or threading a needle while chatting with someone – this could be an entire web series. Funny idea. I wonder if you can change it to M. J. Fox? Everyone has a Kate Hepburn impression, is my only concern. Not that that should stop you.
I just started level III and it’s kicking my ass. I feel remarkably exhausted and unfunny at the end of each class… I’m wondering if this is common.
Yes, darling. This is as common as say, Old Navy, or HPV. Extremely common.
Level three is a crucial point in the development of an improviser. Most of the schools take level three (of five, usually) as an opportunity to challenge the students to see improv as more than ‘fun.’ They’re most likely starting to try to get you to train your brain to recognize games or patterns that emerge in scenes. When I teach I challenge my students to step outside the scene for a brief brief moment when the scene gets its first big laugh. I want the kids to say to themselves, hey, what happened that got that big hearty laugh? How can I heighten that? How can I repeat the pattern? How can I make the funny ‘problem’ worse instead of fixing it and breaking the pattern?
Level three is frequently amazing and fun, but it certainly puts students in their heads. Don’t worry about that exhausted feeling. It’s just you training your brain to exploit spontaneous funny patterns or ‘games.’ And it’s work. And you can do it. Trust this: eventually your brain ‘gets it’ on a reflexive, instinctive level, and you find the joy again. You just have to push through it and get there. Sometimes students can stay in their heads for years, but most people have an uncomfortable six months or so.
I encourage you to start thinking of class work as just that. Work. If you’re to be an improviser (don’t say improver, we don’t do that in New York) you should be a great one. I say that selfishly – I want there to be more gays out there elevating the art form.
I’ll also take the opportunity here to encourage you to join a practice group, or form one with people you like and respect from your classes. It’s an opportunity to get shows and rehearsals in there that you’re just doing for fun. That way you won’t feel shortchanged when you’re exhausted from class. Also, you develop relationships with like minded, bright, funny, talented people.
I hope I run into you somewhere down the line. I love seeing brave homos entering the straight white male driven comedy industry. Please consider me open and available if you have any more questions.
And hey. Consider taking my musical improv class.
Jerk.
Spicy Mexican Hot Chocolate Pie
This is Dan Paul Roberts. He’s a gay recording artist and sex symbol.
He wanted to make a pie.
I wanted to perfect the Mexican Hot Chocolate Pie that I took to B.D. Wong’s New Year’s Party.
Boom. I just named dropped. It was fun.
You should try it.
Name dropping is the funnest, most bestest thing in the world, except for pooping.
Everyone knows that pooping is the greatest human pleasure. Duh.
Dan Paul came over late last night. We whipped up a crust and then blind baked it.
He told me how he moved to the city, and formed a band called She Dick.
They took the downtown scene by storm, and they garnered a following.
Him: I feel good about life. I’m not doing She Dick anymore, but I’m working on an album with people I love and respect a lot and it’s going well. I want to do mainstream gay pop. The time has come for gay pop stars to start infiltrating the pop culture.
Me: As part of our evil agenda – I agree.
Him: Exactly.
Me: Well. There’s Adam Lambert.
(pause)
Him: Yes. Him. (pause) Well, I’d like to do it differently.
Me: He does seem like he’s being misdirected by someone. Maybe his manager.
Him: Who knows?
We tempered the chocolate and added it to the creamed butter/sugar mixture.
Then we whipped in two raw eggs, one at a time, for about five minutes each.
Then I spiced that shit RIGHT.
Cayenne pepper, cinnamon, and smoked Hungarian paprika. Fuck yeah.
Him: I was trying to have a relationship for a minute, with a sweet, enigmatic, kind boy. But he wouldn’t have any of me.
Me: Ha. Sounds familliar.
Him: Now I think of my life as building a family. I’m building a family of people around me whom I love and support. Some of them I have ongoing physical relationships with, some not. I love my friends like family.
Me: Brothers.
Him: What?
Me: I have brotherly feelings for a lot of the Gays in my life. It’s a good feeling to take emotional responsibility for someone else. Not in a controlling way. Just in a supportive way.
Him: Interesting. Brotherhood.
Me: It’s important. The rest of the world hates us. We only have each other.
Him: Is that true? Does the rest of the world hate us?
Me: Did you grow up in a world that taught you to be ashamed of yourself?
Him: Hm.
Him: I experienced a sexual liberation a while back.
Me: Oh? Can you speak to it?
Him: Yeah. Well…. I guess it’s just that, I thought – if I’m to be a sex symbol I need to learn how to wield my sexuality.
Me: Yes. And how did you learn how to do that?
Him: A lot of it has to do with eliminating shame.
Me: I couldn’t agree more. It’s the weapon they have against us. They can try to make us ashamed of our unique, glorious sexuality. But they can only succeed if we let them.
Him: Right!
We put finely ground coffee beans on top of the whipped cream.
It mixed really well with the spice and the chocolate.
What wonderfully domestic little homos we were.
Please enjoy the Mexican Hot Chocolate Pie.
Jerks.
SaturDATE
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.
Couple Things
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
PIEFOLK 