I’m With Magneto

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Tri Vo Studio

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. Then…)

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Me: Aw, Jeez… 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; me 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 LGBTQ.

Him: Singer really pushed the homosexual imagery hard – all  that man on man fondling! Long, deep eye contact…

Me: He did. I got really emotional. Certain lines they delivered seemed to be speaking directly to Us. Almost like Singer wanted Us to hear his advice.

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, the hero, 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.

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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?

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.

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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., becaue 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. And by the way, you’re right: you are absolutely smarter than 99% of people.

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Him: 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. It’s not just women. You hurt my feelings all the time, too. I have women in my life I love and respect.  But, I think I get what you’re driving at.  They seem to be wired differently than us. However, 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: Lesbromolia.

(Pause. No laughter.)

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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.

(Long pause)

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

(pause)

And be nice to girls.

Him: No.

Me: Yes.

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Respect

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Have some fucking respect, please.

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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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Jerk-aholic

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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.

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 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.

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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)

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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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Piefolk Salon Party

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Once or twice a month we have a salon party. I invite notable New Yorkers over to my place and we bake and podcast in the afternoon. Then, we serve the pies to our guests that evening. Artists, singers, poets, comics, essayists – storytellers of all types are invited. It’s a big hearted affair.

video by naruki kukita

It used to be ‘gay men only.’ But, I’m expanding the mission statement. Lesbians, trans folk, cis-boys and girls, straights, bulldykes, bears, otters, radical faeries, log cabin republicans, and homos. Anyone feeling a little ‘queer’ that day can come share, as long as you’re willing to play nice, show some kindness, and make our hearts shine.

Straight boys can expect some light hazing.

Big thanks to Naruki for this surprise video.

Love for all you boys and girls. And gurls.

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naruki kukita

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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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-3

Barbara Mensch

South Street

Lately I’ve been fascinated with the South Street Seaport. I’m a big reader, so when I picked up this book I was drawn in immediately by the historic and architectural richness of the area. The seaport is an enigma, of sorts – traditionally tied to the Fulton Street Fish Market, commerce, industry, and even organized crime.

I’m also getting fascinated with the author of the book. It would seem that Barbara is more than just a writer. Indeed, she’s been exhibiting her photography for decades in Manhattan galleries.

Here’s just one of the images from her site. Check her out. This book is riveting, as are the photographs she presents. It’s worth a look.

Vinny An Unloader

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Letters

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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.

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(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!

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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.

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