Ok, I’m going to calm down now. Andrew Sullivan (although is addressing depression, not anger, we all know they’re cousins) is always making me feel a little bit better about the world.

I beg my gay brothers and sisters: do not let them drive you back to the “psychosis and depression” of the closet. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Know that your love is real; cherish it; hold your spouses closer; build your families; take care of your kids; live your dream.
What the Christianists want is …

So, this week I received an email from my dad’s brother (the significance of that is here, here and here) who I haven’t seen in 25 years. I called him about ten or eleven years ago but I might have been drunk. Those early twenties were a bit jangly. But he found me through the blog and wrote and I wrote back and we’ll see how it plays. It’s hella weird. I spent a day or so with a sick fucking knot in my gut alternating between a profound sense …

Brad said to me a few weeks ago, “When there’s nothing on the blog I just assume things must be going well.” Not true really. I’m writing here when things are going well. If I write about the shitty things it’s because they’re not shitty anymore. I can only write about them then. Post-shitty. So, here I am, post-shitty. Post the shittiest I’ve been in years. Probably 5 five years. It was dark. I was hanging out with the dark friends in that cramped and moldy dark place they like …