Invert(e)

Hore on Holiday

For Thanksgiving, I was gonna drop acid and go to the beach—alone, because I didn’t make plans, and didn’t pester anybody for invites until the last minute, which was more embarrassing than I thought it would be—but the day was supposed to be sunny, and Marshall Beach (formerly, Bad Boy Beach: don’t get me started on that) remains one of my favorite places on Earth, plus I hadn’t dropped acid in a year or two, so this plan sounded fine to me.

I was gonna go over to Pierre’s, after he actually called me and said I was welcome to share Thanksgiving dinner with him and his studly model brother, Andre, and his lovely ex-wife, Pam, with whom I used to work, and I kinda wanted to go because Invert(e), the book-zine, just came out and I can’t wait to show it around, particularly to Pierre, since so much of that piece revolves around him and his cock and his ass and his face and skin and his funny if slightly skewed sweet soul, even though he already heard me read the whole thing out loud at the San Francisco Public Library a year ago, for one of Michelle Tea’s Radar Readings, which are always such great events because God she’s talented, as a writer, and as a host, and as a curator, an all around lovely human being, but I digress.

I was gonna go without pot for the first time in six weeks.

Sacrificed Virgin Souls and Democracy Now! Headlines

Dinner was delicious.

We had cheese and chile tamales, refried beans, rice, guacamole, tostados, and chipotle salsa. I had iced tea and Ian had Coke.

We watched Keith on MSNBC while we ate.

For dessert we sacrificed two neighbor virgins then fucked like happy little bunnies in the mess of what was once alive and innocent. I ate their souls then downed an Alka-Seltzer chaser.

Here's a clip of the Democracy Now! headlines for today:

Velveeta anyone?

I love food and I’m not real fond of most exercise, so as each new year comes and goes it gets harder to stay in shape. We do take nice long walks down to the river every night after work. And I love sex, which if done well should burn a lot of calories. And I just bought a new jump rope. And Ian and I are starting to play tennis again on weekends. Again for me. It’ll be new for the Ian. But don’t let this fool you. I really don’t like to exercise.

After decades of smoking I quit in 2005 and, without much trouble, have been a non-smoker since. (In case you need help, that “without much trouble” included nicotine patches, a loving understanding husband, and many years of Bupropion, which when used for depression really sucks for most folks but as a smoking aide, hey, no panic attacks really helps…)

When Ian and I made the final decision that we would close the store I had a bit of breakdown and I cried cried cried. I cried because I was sad we would be closing the store but I also cried releasing all of the angst that the move to Ohio had caused us both. Then I walked down to Walgreens and bought a pack of cigarettes.

Man, oh, man, did those first couple cigarettes taste good! But not many after that. Long story short(er), five months later I’ve quit again. And without the patches or Bupropion this time. One or two bad days where I was no doubt a real asshole not being counted, it’s not been so bad. But I automatically gained weight the last time I quit. Will it happen again?

What the World Needs Now Is Blog Sweet Blog

What’s Invert(e)?

Well, Invert(e) is a hold-in-your-hands journal that Greg Wharton created to take the place of his online journal, suspect thoughts. That was a pansexual playground of authors and artists that colored outside the lines in whatever art they created. Invert(e), this blog, is similar but not quite the same. This time, “queer” as a word, concept, identity, social construct, religion, revolution is the theme on which artists are invited to vary.

Invert(e), the name itself, is a play on an old-time-y term for queers: invert. Uranians was another coined-to-name-queerlings-before-the-jury-pigeonholed-everyone-into-the-homosexual corral and those identity rustlers—the trannies, the fairies, the bi-all-means—threw open the gates. But it sounds like someone from Uranus, and we welcome them to blog here when not jetting back and forth between the Io9.com-esphere and Captain Jack Harkness’s bedroom.

But why a blog when there's already a journal?

Because Greg and I don’t have a house in realtime anymore where we can throw a party and invite everyone we’d love to have there. And even if we did, not everyone could come. (It’s much cheaper to commute in cyberspace these days.) So, here’s our new house party and you're invited to revel in the dancing on the kitchen table or the fucking in the closet or the fighting on the front lawn.

It’s kind of like a kinkier, dorkier, queer-er version of Hugh Hefner’s old Playboy After Dark TV series meets the rancid right’s Free Republic (NSFW or NSFRT—not safe for rational thinkers)—but without that embarrassing rancid right smell.

So, if you want to know the secret connection between Camille Paglia, South Ossetia, and the Jonas Brothers, Invert(e) is the place to read all about it and become enlightened. Or a great place to find the recipe for McCain-endorsement-free homemade lube to use on your next Manhunt.net outing. Normalcy makeover tips? Ms and Ms and Ms Bigfoot sightings from the astral plane? And photos confirming the plane was flown by Rachel Maddow? We’ve got it all here!