possible lifestylez branding

So I'm on this no-news pattern presently where I don't pay any attention to the current events, because they're all too fucking boring or tragic or worse yet a combination of boring and tragic. Its for my mental health that I do this. In a week or so, I'll go back to reading a newspaper instead of just flipping to my art blogz or doing the crossword in ink like I've been doing.

That is all just to say that my idea of current events right now are entirely specific to what I have been currently thinking about... who I've been seeing, what art I've been viewing, what TV I've been watching and you get the idea. Making your own current events. I wish I could contribute right now a blog-post highlighting the queerest news items and trends, because I like that kind of analysis and at times I feel up to it, but I guess you'll just have to read towleroad.com for that.

Instead for my first ever queer/beer blog post, I present to you, the current events of my ever-insular, introspected waviness. whoaoaooaoaoooaaa!!

Mark Morrisroe by Mark Morrisroe. I've had this book (pictured above) on hold at the Boston Public Library for a week. Its non-circulating, which is annoying, but it does mean that I have to go to the beautiful BPL to thumb through its pristine pages filled with the most non-pristine art. Its the art of living, dying and tricking. Lying, dressing up, hoping, praying, fucking, all of it. To everybody who is justifiably totally over Jack Pierson, its time to get turned on to his best colleague back from their Boston days, Morrisroe. Morrisroe launched Pierson's moment for him and then died of AIDS before he could get all the good shows.

"Turn the TV off, I don't want Oprah to see this."
-Mark Morrisroe's last words (paraphrased)

Salem Massachusetts. I need a summerhouse in there. Guys, Salem is fucked. I have a supernatural sense that the geo-physiological landscape of Salem Massachusetts is eternally mega fucked from the events gone down in 1626. When they killed all them spooky womyn. Brian and I + two friends drove out there a week or so ago, and we had a really pleasant afternoon, but as soon as the sun set, all manner of creepy townies came out and started acting afoul. Loud, impassioned fighting in the middle of streets, creepy licentious mall cop inviting us into his office (this really happened!!!!), drug-addled gas station employees yelling at mild-mannered, law-abiding patrons (me). As far as I could tell, there is a giant red burning pentagram carved into the earth surrounding Salem and I NEED MORE.

See-through beach pants. This is going to be my look, summer 2010. I'm so SICK of opaque clothing! If you don't need to see my genitals, then don't look in that direction. Seriously, I also NEED a huge billowy white translucent pirate shirt, like one that Dave Gahan would wear circa 1991.

YOURS TRULY, DICKY SAM