To celebrate the twentieth anniversary of The Insafemode Blog, I'm putting out three volumes of highly edited books that tell the Insafemode story in a somewhat conventionally narrative flow.

I've just launched a campaign to fund the printing of the first book "All My Exes Live In Sex Flicks."

This book starts with "Slow Flashes", as series of ( Read more... )

Jim, my roommate Byrne, and several other people in the poetry community seem to have the mistaken impression that I hate all Gay People. "And I don't mean you're self-loathing. It's just other Gay People you hate. I mean, if I were to make a pie chart of The Gay Community where the red part was people you hated, and the black part was people you ( Read more... )

In an IM conversation with Dmitri, I mention that I am catsitting for Ben while he's away, and that I'm in the midst of reorganizing the apartment.  Dmitri says "You make such a good wife." Me? A wife? I have a beard, and it's not a woman with self-esteem issues, it's facial hair. Ben is the one who wears eyeliner.

And so it is that I spend ( Read more... )

It's been 2:18 for over a month now. I get up at 2:18. I sleep at 2:18. Life at Zuzu's is consistently 2:18.

The last time it was 2:17 was when Renee Francois, a French student (quel suprise), moved in. Renee has the peculiar habit of launching into showtunes during the midst of conversation:

"Hey, Francois, how's the new job?"

"It's good for my brain ( Read more... )

If love were a two-way street,
I would be a pedestrian
Crushed into a bloody paste
Beneath the wheels
Of a large red truck.

---Robin BlackburnWhile my friends were fantasizing about being astronauts, doctors, rock stars, or Teen Wolf, I was harboring dreams of my own. I wanted to be a firetruck. Not one of those ladder-climbing masochist firemen. ( Read more... )

Every hack psychologist and creative writing teacher will tell you that writing is therapeutic. I feel it’s my job as an author to tell you they’re full of shit. Reliving Ryan’s death has never brought me an ounce of peace. I feel like I’m Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day. Only instead of aiming to seduce Andie MacDowell, I’m trying to kill ( Read more... )

Maybe I’m in the minority (and I don’t just mean because of the gay thing), but I don’t find rape confessions to be a big turn on. Sex was no longer on my mind, in fact it wasn’t even in the same zip code as my mind, as I held Ryan sobbing in my arms. “I’m so sorry. I know this isn’t” sob “what you planned on tonight ( Read more... )

My mother used to call the Catholics vampires because were so fixated on drinking the blood of Christ. "The only reason they chose wine to represent His blood was to give them an excuse to be alcoholics ( Read more... )

Ryan and I had known each other since he was thirteen and I was sixteen. The fact that we never had an inclination about each other is further proof that something in Cranberry Lake air jams the fuck out of gaydar ( Read more... )

It wasn't that I was ugly, it was just that when I first started whoring over AOL, I didn't have any pictures of myself on my computer. I knew what I looked like. Most people on AOL just assumed that if you didn't have a picture on your computer then you were some hideously deformed freak with a tuna casserole where your face should be. After a ( Read more... )