piefolk – Page 4

Gandhi and 4 Questions

June 14, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Arpana restaurant. Miss Snow and I are checking on Kafka, our adopted Japanese man-child, who works in the kitchen. We have just finished a meal and have been invited to have our palms read by an Indian mysitc. There is an air of romance. We just came from Tiffany.

Him: I am a palm reader. You may ask four questions for 15 dollars.

Me: Okay. I believe you are a psychic because you have a magnifying glass made of Mother of Pearl. You got that near the ocean, didn’t you?

Him: Yes. In Florida.

Me: I knew that, because I’m psychic. Or perhaps it just reminded me of shells.

Him: What is your first question?

Me: Why do I have to lie to pepole? It seems like people don’t respect me, unless I lie a little?

Him: The universe doesn’t want you to lie. You will be very ashamed if you lie, and so you cannot be a liar. This is very important and I cannot stress this enough. There are layers of deception, and self deception and you’ve been peeling those layers back for a long time, and now you find the fruit of your labor. Enjoy anything sweet that comes your way, but do not try to lie. It is not in your nature.

Me: Really? I tell stories for a living, though.

Him: That is not the same as lying. You make a clear distinction in your work life, from your home life, and you have earned the right to say with conviction ‘I have integrity.’ Say it please.

Me: I have integrity.

Him: Integrity means wholeness. You know exactly who you are in this life and your opinion can not be swayed.

Me: Even so, just because you have a story, doesn’t mean you have to tell it.

Him: That is also true, but wisdom comes from a practice and a discipline. You must keep writing.

Me: I didn’t say I was a writer.

Him: You didn’t have to. What is your next question?

Me: How does a shepard become King?

Him: How does a King lose his kingdom?

Me: By being unkind to his servants.

Him: Get ready. You are going to be responsible for a LOT of money. A lot.

Me: I don’t want that. I only want un oueff. An egg. Enough. I only want enough money.

Him: Whether you like it or not, you have a tremendous amount of money coming to you. It can be a burden or a blessing depending on how you care for the money, and what you choose to do with it.

Me: I’d like to start a charity for abused LGBTQ people.

Him: That is a noble cause but it will not erase the pain you have suffered.

Me: I like remembering the pain I’ve suffered.

Him: Why?

Me: You’re the psychic, you tell me.

Him: You need to remember your pain so you can grow into a new man.

Me: Ding! Growing Pains is a great show.

Him: You are showing a smile again that betrays who you really are. You’re struggling to evolve and when you do the world will be at your feet.

Me: Sounds like I’m going to live in Tibet.

Him: You will leave the country soon.

Me: That is true.

Him: Do you have another question?

Me: I’ve been blythely telling everyone that all of human knowledge is inside all of us when we are born. Do you agree?

Him: It is true. But, unlocking that knowledge comes at a price, and as soon as you become aware of your power, you must wrestle the demons of your own fear.

Me: Forever.

Him: There is only forever, never, and now. Are you afraid right now?

Me: No.

Him: Then I hope the money you are getting will be spent wisely. What is more important than money?

Me: Time.

Him: You are wiser than I gave you credit for. Thank you for an eye opening session.

Me: Don’t I get one more question?

Him: I would rather you come back regularly, and talk to me about how things are progressing. Is that fair?

Me: As long as it doesn’t cost money next time.

Him: Friendship is freely given.

Me: How much do I owe you?

Him: 30. 15 for you and 15 for your fiance.

Me: Will you take 35?

Him: Most certainly. And don’t forget, there is a Goddess of Infinite Compassion – she is much older than the God you worship.

Me: Hey now. Don’t give away the milk for free, buddy.

Him: I saw you dancing, earlier, very graceful.

Me: Thanks, pal. Next time I’ll read your palm.

Him: Is that so?

Me: Yes. I have to get a magnifying glass first.

Him: Go to the ocean.

Me: And make salt.

Him: Yes. It is everyone’s right to make salt in the ocean. No government can control this.

Me: Gandhi.

Him: Yes.

Me: What a drama queen he was about his anorexia.

Him: You are a funny man.

Me: Ugh. I know. Don’t get me started

More information on Match Game Live and Summer Camp here.

Passive Aggressive, Part 1

May 31, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

To Be Continued…

I’m With Magneto

May 29, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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…)

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

Renegotiate

May 4, 2013November 7, 2014 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Sponsored by Girbaud Denim.

Him: Hey I’m back but I’m really sleepy.

Me: Then take a nap at my place, drunky.

Him: Allright, I’m heading over, but just to sleep.

Me: No. Come to think of it, don’t.

Him: Haha. Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.

Me: Maybe.

Him: I’ll check on you tomorrow then?

Me: If you remember.

Him: I’ll remember.

Me: So will I. How’s the weather out there? Fair?

Him: Slightly chilly, but nice.

Me: Better to head home then. I have to txt a friend and ask about coming over to help.

Him: I hope you find a cool roomie.

Me: By the way, you shouldn’t stand someone up for a date and then sign on to Grindr. It’s poor etiquette. Dick move, I’d say.

Him: You just told me to go home.

Me: I need help. I’m not a flop house. You come over and sit. I cook. It’s not equitable. When it’s time to help you suddenly get tired.

Him: Fair assessment.

Me: Yes. Therefore I’m busy tomorrow. No date.

Him: That’s the rules we set from the start.

Me: Wrong. I was waiting for you to act like a team player.

Him: I’m the worst at that.

Me: Agree. You’re not dating material. Not even friend material. My friends do the dishes when I cook.

Him: You said it was fine to hang out, video games, and fool around, or cuddle. I agreed.

Me: I remember that. I’d like to renegotiate. I’m not satisfied with the arrangement anymore.

Him: I really don’t want to make you feel un-equitable.

Me: Okay, then. Let’s renegotiate?

Him: I feel like you may need more than I can give.

Me: Why? Cause I said let’s go on a date? That’s off the table. How about… do a dish once in awhile? How about don’t act like I’m a pariah if we’re in a gay bar? I don’t really need a boyfriend either; I just asked for a date.

(pause)

I’m not happy with you wasting my Friday night with your lame excuse last minute. People ask after my time, you know.

(pause)

Me: The best negotiations leave everyone happy. Make an offer.

Him: You jump moods very quickly and it’s tough to get my feelings through.

Me: You don’t speak your feelings. That’s all on you. I think it’s pretty clear how I feel. I asked you to take me on a date. What are your feelings?

Him: Not a lot. I wanted to send this quote from Girls but it’s kind of selfish. Let me find it.

Me: No. Speak for yourself. This is negotiation. Say what you want. Don’t be lazy and plagiarize another writer’s work. I literally had to cry about my hurt feelings to get a date. That’s not the start of a deeper friendship. You’re standing me up tonight, the night before our official dinner date, and signing on to Grindr. You didn’t even apologize. How passive aggressive can you be?

Him: I want nothing.

Me: Then you don’t get anything.

Him: I wanted something at some point. Now I don’t.

Me: Life is about tone and timing. That’s understandable.

(pause)

Me: We don’t seem to have a deal. I’m still fond of you. These small feelings will extinguish relatively easily. I’ll table my negotiation until after Mother’s day. Have fun alone.

Him: Many times that’s the best place to be.

Me: One thing I’m always saying is that the pair of eyes in the mirror belong to the best boyfriend in the world. It’s another way of reminding myself to go fuck myself. I suggest you do the same.

Him: I’m terrible at being on this side of anger.

Me: I’m not angry. Speak for yourself. It’s rude to speak for the other party negotiating. And, it doesn’t get anyone what they want. We were tender and sweet to each other. That’s a great thing. We needed creature comfort. I mistook that for us building a small relationship as friends. It’s my bad. Take care. I have to write this down.

Him: I still think of our relationship as small. Just much smaller now.

Me: Agree. You’re a fair weather friend. You show up when you’re horny, or lonely, or hungry and make me do most of the work. That’s not acceptable. That’s selfish and I won’t accept those terms. No deal.

Him: I’ll let you go. I’m sorry we didn’t read things the same way.

Me: Your cruelty is quite elegant, but don’t be sorry. I’m already adjusting my expectations. I really must go write something.

Him: Okay. Goodnight.

Me: One more thing: Neither of us are Girls, but one of us is in his 20s. Don’t let Lena Dunham speak for you. You speak for you. That’s good negotiation.

Respect

April 29, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

eryc perez de tagle

Have some fucking respect, please.

tri vo studio

Stop. Be still.

April 6, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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.

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?

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.

(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)

Jerk-aholic

March 31, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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!

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.

photos, tri vo

guest edited by samuel lindeman.

L.A. Story #3: Where’s Your Voice?

March 26, 2013March 26, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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.

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.

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)

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?

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.)

Piefolk Salon Party

March 20, 2013 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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.

naruki kukita

Tell the other fags --->

To Be Continued…

Tell the other fags --->

Tell the other fags --->

Tell the other fags --->

Tell the other fags --->

Tell the other fags --->

Tell the other fags --->

Tell the other fags --->

Tell the other fags --->