Sometimes, I think my image and identity confuse people, because I almost always wear a tie, and for some reason, in our culture, ties are considered inherently masculine – which makes no sense to me. I mean, what could be prettier or daintier than tying a bow or ribbon around your neck, like a goddamn kitten? Do women even have anything that compares to this?
You might site a barrette, but that actually serves a utilitarian function, whereas my tie serves no function apart from being pretty. That’s literally all this does. Or you might note that women can routinely wear flowers in their hair, but let’s unpack that for a moment, because what you’ve really done is gone into another life form’s habitat, ripped off its genitals, and stuck them in your hair, like a goddamn war token. So really, what could be more masculine than wearing a flower in your hair?
(listen at https://soundcloud.com/yourfaultforlistening/kelly)
My kid’s in middle school now, and something’s been troubling me something awful, and it’s the question: “Am I failing to neglect my child?”
Here’s the thing: I’m a performing artist and have been for most of my life. I don’t have the life skills or experiences necessary to guide my child towards a life of prosperity and emotional stability. I can’t teach him to be a man or score with women, because again, those are skills and experiences I just don’t have. The best I can do is teach him how to pat away tears without ruining his eye makeup. That said … I’m still there!
Week after week, I hear other comedians talk about dead and absent parents, and broken homes, but I never had that. My parents are still alive, married, and middle class. And that shit is holding me back(!) from doing anything that might risk homelessness or unemployment. So then, I wonder, is my lack of substance abuse a form of child abuse? And I think, “yes.”
Sure, I’m queer as fuck, but I’ve never sucked a dick in front of my child. So, where are the scars? Where’s the irreparable damage? How will he gain the desperate need for constant approval from a room full of intoxicated strangers?
(listen at https://soundcloud.com/yourfaultforlistening/reingold)
I bought new clothes this week, because I had reached the point where I was selecting my underwear by how closely they matched my pants, which is one of the major pitfalls of adulthood, because we don’t outgrow our clothes so much as they simply cease to function as clothing.
But I didn’t just buy new clothes. I also bought a new carry-all, and I was spending time with one of my friends who looked at it and said, “Huh huh huh.” (I’m not exactly sure that’s what he said, but that’s what all heterosexual men sound like to me.) “You know that’s a purse, right?”
And I was stunned he’d say something like that to me, because here we were having brunch at a crepery with a one word name, my underwear matches my pants, and I’m wearing a hand-woven silk tie by Yve St Laurent, and you think I don’t know what a purse looks like? Are you kidding me?
(listen at https://soundcloud.com/yourfaultforlistening/rowan)
So graham crackers … those are a stoner invention, right? I mean, don’t you have to be a little high to think to yourself, “Dude! What if I take a Saltine and combine that with a snicker-doodle? My name is Graham. We’ll call’m graham crackers. Mind … blown.” Why?! Why would you do that?
Graham crackers are the first food in history to successfully be an equally terrible cracker and cookie at the same time. Matter of fact, I take back my original assessment. You don’t have to be a little high. You have to be the sort of high that causes you to wake up on your futon at two in the morning and decide to make French toast, but all you have in your kitchen is a bag of croutons and a carton of eggnog that’s already gone bad, and you still make French toast. That’s the level of stoner ingenuity that gave us the graham cracker.
Despite that fact, I’m glad to see marijuana continuing on its path to full legitimization. Personally, I believe all drugs should be legalized, since every man, woman, and child in this country is already on drugs. The only reason you judge anyone else’s drug use is because you either don’t understand the effects of the drug or the mindset of the people using the drug.
For example, maybe you keep a lot of late nights, but you also work a day job. Chances are you’re on caffeine most of the time. Or maybe you have a really sweet scrap metal collection, but you’re also afraid monsters live under your bed. Maybe you should smoke some meth. Or maybe you just really like to get in fights and throw up after having sex with strangers; therefore, alcohol. Personally, none of those drugs appeal to me, because I can’t personally relate. But then … there’s heroin.
I can very easily imagine myself curled up in the fetal position, with my head under a blanket, crying in the corner of a public restroom on some smack. That’s a drug that makes sense.
(listen at https://soundcloud.com/yourfaultforlistening/greysen)