lazy bloggers speak out!

I am of course using the 'solidarity plural,' a device used to minimize any kind of responsibility and/or explanation for the excessive not-post-ery up in this piece.

Suffice to say, not having any jobs, moneys or general bringers-of-purpose-to-life is a BITCH. And I'm having this weird pathelogical aversion to climbing out of this hole-of-the-soul. Not that I COULD actually climb into a job. I see what people mean when they say pessimism is dangerous.

Perhaps that is why I got so drunk last night. Apparently, Wednesday night is the new official night to get drunk for no reason in my world. I went over to my b-loved Travis and Minnie's home for the beefy face-fucking I'd been secretly longing for. Obviously, I had to toast the savage beauty of these gouda-bacon-horseradish burgers with a bottle of wine. Obviously. And I ran into my old pal Lesbian Dreamgirl (she is a lesbian and my dreamgirl, though I'm sure the name works to describe how anyone would feel about this girl), who was having drinks at the Depot with some of her local friends. But showing up an hour-plus late and already drunk proved to be a slightly disasterous formula. So I drank a cocktail, talked with a fellow who kind of freaks me out, then checked out semi-dramatically, rocking my new 'leaving without saying anything because I am embarassed and don't want to deal with potentially false sentimentality.'

It works.

Speak of new things, I want to start concluding every entry with something called 'Culture Snack' which is just going to be my wee forum to tell yall about something I think is really awesome in the hope of passing it on to ye. It's my way of saying, 'Hey, skip all that self-obsessed bullshit - here's something that you may actually give a shit about.'

This edition of Culture Snack celebrates...
Tom Spanbauer. Which is cheating, but I just invented this feature. I read his In the City of Shy Hunters, a few months ago and I just finished The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon about two or three weeks ago. Here's why Tom is such an amazing writer:
1.) He is able to characterize people beautifully, accurately, hilariously and with a richness that so many writers - especially modern gay writers - cannot even touch. Whether they are prostitutes, performance artists, cowboys or waiters, he creates a legion of heartbreaking, unforgettable heroes. They make mistakes but they are all the more human for it.
2.) He reinvents the traditional love story - his characters develop strong friendships, which becomes a sort of cross between familial and sexual love - fascinating way to capture the human experience while defying cliche.
3.) He is equally comfortable with rural Idaho and the heart of New York City as settings.
4.) He is the first writer to make me want to get a commemorative tat
5.) Brilliant word-games of lines that make you want to murmur them to yourself while reading - a la, "Looking for who I was was who I was."
6.) The strange little morsels of knowledge and ideas implanted throughout his novels.

Anyway, that concludes our initial foray into the thrilling world of culture snack. Stay tuned. Or don't. Fuck you! I don't need your approval!