piefolk – Page 19

Bryan

May 31, 2011June 1, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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

May 30, 2011May 30, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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

May 29, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Dan Paul and Robbie came over for some singing.

We covered a Leonard Cohen song.

Enjoy the holiday, Jerks.

Question

May 28, 2011May 29, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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

May 27, 2011May 27, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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

May 21, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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

May 20, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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?

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

I’m Dating Everyone

May 19, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Little known fact: I’m dating everyone.

It’s true. It’s evolved into my motto for 2011.

I’m dating everyone.

I was in long term relationships for pretty much all of the aughts, and I’m taking a breather this year. I’m feeling emotionally worn out, to be honest, and I’d like to focus on my work.

Is that okay with you? More in a second. I’m going to talk about chocolate for a second, and then juxtapose it with a poop joke.

Chocolate covered pretzels are super easy.

Just temper a buncha chocolate. That means add heat to it, in a double boiler. Use a double boiler so you don’t scorch the chocolate.

If you don’t have a double boiler you can make one with a metal bowl and a pot of water.

Figure it out. I’ll wait here while you do fifteen seconds of internet research to find out about Double Boilers.

So, yeah, I’m Dating Everyone. Did I tell you? I told you? Good. I am.

It’s become the thing I say when people condescendingly ask me why I don’t have a boyfriend.

‘I’m Dating Everyone,’ I say. And yes. I’m smug and arrogant when I answer the question.

“At your age, with your personality etc. I can’t imagine you having to be single? Don’t you have a boyfriend?“

No. I don’t. Nor do I want one.

I don’t like your implication, that people have to either be coupled up or cower in fear of being forced to live out their golden years with nothing to support them but their own thoughts and musings. Perish the thought I actually get some peace and quiet in my retirement. Just kidding. I’m never retiring.

My grandmother’s single. She seems to be having a good time of it. She’s been single for 20 years since my Grandpa died. She likes to do puzzles.

Do you honestly think everyone is wandering around, desperately trying to find the ‘missing half’ of themselves that will make them whole? I hope not. Sounds like a good way to waste time you should have spent pooping and writing shows, and baking for lovely people.

And pooping, darling. And all that pooping. Everyone knows, people in relationships don’t poop.

It implies that you’re not good enough on your own, and most of you are!

The rest of you, I dunno… Get a boyfriend, I guess. Quickly.

But for me, that person will either turn up or he won’t. I’m not looking.

I don’t like the implication that at my age I should really settle down. And if you ask me, I’m Dating Everyone will be what you hear, with varying degrees of smugness attached to it, depending on how I’m feeling at the moment.

Isn’t that precious?

No. It’s not.

It’s arrogant. I think arrogant behavior can be funny, though. I’m really arrogant and humble and arrogant. And grateful. I feel grateful pretty often.

I feel really arrogant sometimes too, when I’m onstage or when I’m writing my blog and things are going well. I feel arrogant sometimes when I’m directing or coaching comedy and I’m getting through to the actors. I also feel humble in those moments. If I nail an improvised song, or a written sketch at Maude Night, or an audition, I feel arrogant. Bulletproof.

But there’s always a humble part of me that knows that the important ingredient, the x factor that makes any actor special, just comes and goes whenever it wants. If I practice more and work more, it comes more often, but it still can leave whenever it feels like it. That makes me feel humble. And arrogant. And humble.

And sometimes shy. Don’t ask. That’s a whole other can of worms.

I’m not sorry for being humble or arrogant. It’s part of the process I go through to do comedy and music. It sucks a little, but I don’t think I would trade it for anything at all. It doesn’t suck a lot more often. I have talented friends who care about me, and I get to share the stage with the best comedy minds of my generation. I get that. That’s what luck and hard work and life has given me. It’s a gift and it’s mine, and it’s not for anyone else but me. And that makes me feel humble. And arrogant.

I’m pretty sure I’m not harming anyone by trying to make people laugh, except the feelings of my closest friends, once in a while, when I think I’m being funny (and I am) but I’m also inadvertently acting like a Jerk.

And my friends know that about me, and don’t make me apologize for it. I don’t have a whole lot of close friends, but the ones I do have are excellent human beings. I could have done much worse.

Darling, see what happens? I start talking about my favorite subject (poop) and I get off topic.

Chocolate Covered Pretzels. Temper the chocolate. Drizzle the pretzels. Toss. Refrigerate. You’re done. Take them out after 10 min, or they run the risk of getting ashy looking, like the Elderly.