Hooray! I'm Gay!

Ok, so I'm not gay. But Sunday night I may as well have been. I was invited by my friends Maria and Kelly to go around the corner to see Erasure. And I WENT! Oh BOY!

Vincent Clarke & Andy Bell

Thinking back, the whole day was kinda gay.

I had an all day barbeque with just five hot chicks and myself on the deck of the lesbians apartment upstairs. Normally this would fit in to my hyper-hetero-quasi-polygamist M.O., but I did notice that when the time came to light the barbeque and all the women naturally deferred to my manliness to do it, I found myself completely disinterested. I was sufficiently content sipping on my strawberry margarita complete with fruit slices and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I didn't want to light no god damn fire. Besides, the wind was blowing outside, I didn't want to mess up my hair.

There was also a lot of talk about vaginas -- which is great. I always like that subject. It might be said that vaginas are one of my favorite subjects. Problem was, there was also a lot of talk about irritable bowel syndrome and sex with dolphins. Is that gay? It doesn't seem straight.

But going to Erasure as part of Andy Bell's guest list (no matter if I was once removed and was really Maria's guest) was definitely the topper.

Or no, I take that back, the topper was probably the fact that as I stood up in the VIP balcony and gazed down upon all the sweaty homo dudes and fag hags singing loudly and dancing gayly I think that I actually for a second may have actually wished I could be gay (damn you cursed weiner!). You would have too. If you would have seen the looks on those faces as Andy Bell churned out tune after faggy tune about being a boy in love and being a boy with his heart broken -- you would have wanted to be a part of that action too. Trust me you homos.

But there is more to it than just that. Anyone who knows me knows that there is little I enjoy more than seeing people having a good time (Unless they are enjoying a Michael Moore movie. I fucking HATE that).

As I gazed down upon all those queerbaits, I knew full well that 90% of them weren't raised in San Francisco and I began to imagine them in their terrible little towns, getting their new wave hair-dos, being harassed and bullied by insensitive assholes. I imagined them dating fat goth girls and really hot cheerleaders the former for company the latter for hairstyling tips but both really to just avoid being beaten up and severely mocked. I imagined all of the troubles and their feelings of isolation in towns where gay is NOT OK -- and then I magined their dreams of moving to San Francisco and finding a little place and a bunch of new cute oily boyfriends and I imagined them holding hands with their new crush for the first time IN PUBLIC --- proud to show off their new conquest -- I imagined their gay hearts beating out little deep house rhythms and being excited like I was when I finally convinced a girl to make out with me in public at the school dance.

No, fuck that..-- I didn't imagine it. -- I didn't imagine any of it. I could see it all very clearly on their faces and I have to say that it was a beautiful thing (sniff) -- it almost felt holy -- like a Sanctuary for gays. That's what I thought. I think I even made jokes about it.

There is nothing like seeing even one persons dream come true -- let alone a whole room full homo dreams.

And I thought all of this while Andy Bell pranced around in his sparkled underwear and feathers singing "give a little respect to-ooo-oooo-oooo meeeeeeeeee!

And I almost cried.

Then I danced like a homo for a half an hour.

Then I wanted to write a political peice about how being pro-war-on-islam is being pro-homo. But then, today I read Bill Whittles latest essay entitled oddly enough but not surprisingly "Sanctuary" and it's really about just THAT. I love his essays. There are few writers that can speak for me -- but he is one of them and he does it so well that I basically have given up going on about politics -- he does it so much better. He is soooooo pro-homo too.

Read it if you want. It'll take a half an hour at least -- but I'm not interested in debating with any of you about why I like it so much or why I agree with him. So don't even bother -- I would prefer to take my shirt off and prance around like a raging queen than debate with any of you.

In fact, I'm gonna do that right now! Weeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

Argue over there with all the morons in his comments section. Sheesh, what a total bum out.

Now, here's a picture I took of Allannah on the way to our little photo shoot the other day. Awe, such pensive melancholy.

That's all for now!

Don't get caught crying like a fag while listening to Depeche Mode!

The faggiest unfaggy straight hunk of manliness you know (as he hocks a loogie),
merkley???