Pride

“Hi there! This seat taken? No? Cool if I...? Great, thanks! Gotta say, feels good to get off my feet, been working since 7 this morning, so a little bit of lager down the big belly would do me some good, right?... Haha, exactly, yes. Right... So what’s your racket? What’s your line of business, as it were? Advertising? Really? Like a Mad Man kinda deal? Oh, yeah? Wow, cool. Looks pretty glamorous! Or like, like... the husband in Bewitched! Little less glamorous, but heck: he had a hot witch wife! Ha, ha.... Excuse me? No, no: I said ‘witch.’ Yeah. No: no bad words coming out of me, no siree! No, no... Hmm? Me? I’m an accountant. Crunching numbers all day, no social skills, pocket protectors, wearing glasses... The whole nine yards!... Yes, of course I’m kidding! As you can see: I’m wearing contacts now!
Ah, nothing like that first sip of cold beer at the end of the day, eh? Makes you forget all your worries! You got any? Worries, I mean... Well, good for you! That’s just great, really. I’m happy for you. Yeah.
Ah, feels good. Yeah...
Makes you forget your worries.
Yeah...
Of course some people, like you, have no worries. That’s good.
But if some people had. Worries, I mean. Then a cold beer could make them go away for a bit...
Pardon me? Me? Worries? Oh, what made you think that?
I mean... It’s not a worry. It’s a... a bit of a thorn, but no biggie. Heck: not even a thorn, really. A bramble, at most. Just... I mean... You know...
Well, my only son just told me the other day he was gay.
No, it’s no problem at all. Really. I mean, I love him to pieces, always have, always will. Can’t even say I’m totally surprised, I mean he had posters of Freddy Mercury all over his walls by the time he was seven. Then he became a big fan of any films involving gladiators, so you know: I kinda knew. I didn’t care. And I still don’t, of course. But, it’s just... Well, no, it’s nothing. I mean, I was hoping for an heir, you know? Someone to carry on my name, but... well, hell: what has my family ever done in history? I mean why should our name live on? From what I’ve heard, my great-great-grandfather once met a guy who was apparently important. I can’t even tell you who or where or when, that’s how important my family is. Yeah... Plus, anyway: with all these new laws, my son might adopt a son and give him our name. I mean, okay: so there might be a kid named ‘Johnson’ in forty years, and he’ll be totally like... Asian or African or from wherever the adopting fad will be in those days.
No, no! I’m saying, hey: good for them! Cool! Well deserved and all.
But, you know what? There’s something I’ve always wondered, and don’t get me wrong, but... Well, our society is so freaking PC these days that I’m not even sure how to say it. I mean, I’d ask my son, but he’s such a drama queen that--
No, no... Sorry, no. I didn’t mean he’s a queen because he’s gay. That was a bad choice of word, really. I mean, even when I thought he was straight, I’d call him a drama queen and he always thought that was funny. I guess I understand why now... But he knows I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, a ‘drama king’ or a ‘drama prince’ just doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?
Anyway, so... What I wanted to say, or rather: ask, is... Well... what’s with the whole gay pride thing? I mean, okay: they’re gay and they shouldn’t be ashamed, I totally get that. But why be proud? I mean... I’ve never been proud of being straight. I mean I’ve never thought: I love to sleep with women! Woohoo! Let’s have a parade! I mean it’s just something that happened, right?
And, well... That’s kinda the flaw in their logic... No, no: ‘their’ is not a derogatory term, really. It’s just a pronoun, so let’s calm down.
What I mean is: so they’re gay, good for them. They say it’s not a choice, it’s biology or what-have-you. And I totally agree. But, see... If you don’t have a choice in the matter, how can you be proud of it? I mean... Should I be proud that I have green eyes? That I’m right handed? That I got brown hair? I don’t really give a shit, to be honest. That’s who I am and I carry on with my life.
What?...
Ah, yes, I know they’ve been persecuted and misunderstood, I totally get that. But still... Now they can say: ‘F- you, we’re gay, accept it or don’t. F- you either way you f’ing straight f-.’ And I do apologize for my language, I really do... Sorry. But you know what I mean, right?
So, you know, my son is gay. Okay. he’s happy as hell, and I’m happy for him. I’m just saying, what’s with the pride thing? Well, if you think about it, same think with ‘black pride’ or 'woman pride’ and of course also 'white pride.’ I mean... you were born this way. It’s good you’re okay with who you are, really that’s just fantastic, but ‘pride’ is just not the right word to use!
I guess the slogan ‘We’re gay and that’s okay’ doesn’t... Well, hold on: I think that sounds pretty damn good, no?
Yeah, I don’t know either.
Anyway, let’s have another drink. On me. Yeah, yeah, I insist!
And if that’s okay, I’ll tell you why my son’s boyfriend is a total jerk.”

Benched

Hey, there! Mind if I sit down? You’re sure? Thanks...
I see you’re enjoying the afternoon, getting a bit of cool bench action, here, hitting the rays, watching the peeps and so on... Ha, ha. Don’t worry, I’m not a weirdo. Well... I guess that’s what all weirdos say, but really: I’m not one. Scout’s honor. Yeah... Ha ha. Lovely day, isn’t it? Yeah. Yeah... I see you got a ring on your finger, there. Married, then? Oh, yeah? Lovely, lovely. Good for you. Marriage is one great thing. Awesome wholesomeness and what have you... Me? No, no. Not married, no. No, no, no, no. No. Ha ha. No. Nope, no no. No. Definitely not, no...
Not that I’d mind, of course. But no. Haven’t found the right lady yet. Who’s single and got thumbs? This guy! Yeah... I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had many girlfriends, but... I don’t know... They were all sort of... Well... totally fucking crazy. I’ve gotten into the habit of calling myself a ‘self-labeled pride-less psycho magnet.’ Haha. Yeah, no: no pride, not anymore. I mean... At some point you gotta realize that pride is pretty goddamn pointless. What do I have to be proud about? I’m an overweight, late-thirties loser with no accomplishment whatsoever. Shit, I’m a waste of space, really. I’m sucking up the oxygen from the worthy people, you know? I mean, no, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I’m scum or that I’m totally repulsive, but hey: I’m no spring chicken, and I’m no looker either. I know, I know, supposedly looks don’t matter. But that’s complete bullshit and you know it and I know it and they fucking know it. Yes: ‘they.’ The women... Man oh man...
Can I tell you something? Something pretty personal. Something I haven’t told anyone, ever, but... Well... Beautiful women make me sad. They really do. I mean there they are walking about, living their lives and I see them and I fall in love instantly and I think: ‘Wow, it would be amazing to kiss her lips. It would be amazing to caress those legs. It would be amazing to fall asleep next to this woman every night.’ And of course,  I mean we’re men, here: ‘Wow, I’d love to fuck her brains out.’ But of course that never happens. Because they’re a different breed, a different race, a difference species all together! They glide by, knowing men and woman alike want them and they know they’re at the top of the proverbial food chain and unless you’re some toned asshole, or some rich asshole, or just some asshole, you’ll never find out what color their panties are. And that’s totally fucked. I mean, for example... There’s this bar I go to sometimes and there’s this really cute waitress there. I don’t wanna say gorgeous or beautiful, but just super cute, she just looks... well... tight. I don’t mean her poon, you know, I mean her body. You know? She’s... she’s petite and fit, right? I know, I kinda sound like a Google’s search result of '1001 perversions,’ but you know what I mean, yeah? Anyway, I say hello when I go there and she says hello and I always want to talk to her but I never do. You know why?... That’s right, you said it: 'cos she’s a fucking waitress! I mean a guy chatting up some waitress, her freak radar goes ape-shit, her defensive walls go up and at best she politely smiles at you. At worst, she calls the bouncer and his biker friends and you end up in the hospital with broken legs and your dick shoved so far up your ass they gotta perform a tonsillectomy to get it out. You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s fucked. How many creeps chat up this waitress every night? My estimate is a baker’s dozen. At least. And anyway, a woman like that has to have a boyfriend, you know? I mean a girl like that can’t be single and-- what’s that?... Yeah, okay, sure: she could have a girlfriend. Point is: she’s taken, unavailable. Plus, you know what? I lied... I said she wasn’t gorgeous or beautiful. That’s a total lie I tell myself so I’ll fall asleep without weeping. She’s pretty damn stunning. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Were she a blind single desperate nympho, I’d still find a way to fuck it up. Yeah, it’s fun to be me...
Excuse me? Oh, no, no. Surprisingly, no. My girlfriends have always been super hot. Or least above average. On average.  At least that’s my opinion, which at the end of the end is the only one I care about, you know? But I’ve always felt the girls I was with were out of my league, but they seemed to like me enough. But you know... As soon as a girl likes me, I figure she’s full of shit because I know there’s no way a girl like that would like a guy like me. So I don’t trust her. Yeah, no, really: it’s fun to be me.
Shit, talking about that waitress and that bar made me thirsty. Want a drink? No, I know there are no bars around here, but I always carry a fifth of bourbon in this here pocket. And one of rum in that pocket, here. Yeah, well... My father used to say: 'There are 'the glass-is-half-full kinda people and there 'the glass-is-half-empty’ kinda people but that doesn’t matter because trouble only starts when the bottle is half empty.’ Ha! So, yeah. Bourbon for me. Want rum? no? You sure? You can have the bourb’ I’ll go for the Jamaican fire water if you want. No? You sure? Suit yourself. Don’t mind me...
Oh, yes: That hit the spot! Anyway, what was I saying?... I don’t know either!
Huh?... Oh, yeah: some of my girlfriends were hot. Yeah. Weird. I was with this one girl, really great body, amazing in bed and all... And God she loved me. I mean it was scary how much she loved me and how quickly she decided that she did. But she did. And she showed it... Every time she came over, she brought me a little gift and she cooked for me and when she was looking at me, I could see love in her eyes like I’d never seen it before. Or since. I mean, it was absolute devotion. But at the end of the day that wasn’t enough for me. I mean... the love and devotion, she was like a cooking puppy that I fucked. It’s cool, but just not enough, you know? Yeah...
So I broke up with her and she wept. I mean literally. I had never seen anyone weep before. It was weird. And lemme tell you something else: that got me hard. I almost proposed a good- bye fuck, but I kinda had the feeling that would not be the right thing to say at that particular point in time. But I’m sure I coulda gone away with it, somehow.
Funny thing is: she still calls me and wants to see him. I was a dick to her and she still likes me. So, yeah... Being an asshole always work. That’s fucked up. I’ve written poems for girls, I’ve wined and dined them, I was gentle and affectionate... And I got dumped. Because I was too kind or too gentle.
Fuck... Seriously... I’m gonna turn into a raping cannibal and then I’ll get all the poon I want!
Haha, no, no: don’t get nervous, I’m only kidding. I couldn’t rape anyone, I don’t have the stamina. I even had a girlfriend who asked me to pretend I was raping her and I couldn’t do it, so you know: I’m cool, don’t worry.
Shit, bourbon on a summer afternoon is nice. You’re a cool dude, man, I’m glad I ran into you. I’m sorry I’ve been rambling a bit, but you know how it is... Yeah? You gotta go, really? back to work? Well... Shit... Good luck, man. You sure you can’t stay a bit longer? No, no, I understand, you gotta go. Work calls! Yeah, you take care, too, buddy. Bye! No, no, don’t worry about me, I’ll be here with my drinks and my thoughts, perfectly happy to be on my own.
Yup.
All on my own.

Bang Bang

Tom, Dick and Harry,
BFF, for real, for sure.
See them run in the backyard,
young and carefree
and oh so innocent.
Laughing, screaming,
shouting and oh so rarely crying.
Bang bang! You’re dead!
No, you’re dead! I shot first!
bang bang,
what fun they’re having, those little
cowboys and Indians,
those cops and robbers
‘Bang,’ I said.
Ok, I’m dead.

Tom, Dick and Harry,
growing up, growing pains
growing gains, many strains
but friends forever
nothing comes between them
Look at my new toy!
It’s so shiny!
Here, you can borrow it.
What’s mine is yours.
You’re the best!
They're the best.
Carefree and happy.
Kids, simply.

Tom, Dick and Harry
still together after all these years
Same schools, same friends
same everything.
Then, in comes Mary
sweet, innocent, and smelling of
morning dew.
Tom falls for her,
but so do Dick and Harry
I saw her first,
No, I saw her first.
You can’t have her.
She’s mine.
What are you gonna do about it?

Bang bang through the school.
He was so normal,
He was loved and intelligent
What compelled him to do such a thing?
We are deeply shocked
We are painfully saddened
I blame the music
I blame the TV
I blame the parents
I blame someone.
Anyone but me.

bang bang

why did you do it?

bang bang

are you happy now?

bang bang

were you ever?

bang bang

we should have seen it coming.

Yes,
but why didn’t we?

(Written in April 1999)

Last Night

Last night I sold my soul to the world
and as the cold eye was staring at my flaws
my thoughts were flushed out
and my future was etched in copper

last night the world saw the real me
the one I had hidden for all those years
A me no one but me knew it could be me,
A me I will never again be

Last night it all came unravelling
the scarlett of my shame
and the anger of my being
Nothing will ever be the same

And I danced and I cried
and I laughed and I drank
But I can't help but wonder:
who can understand?

Last week my world came crashing down
and as my head hit the boards
my dreams came tumbling out,
colliding with the judging stares.

Last week, reality came knocking and
all the nightmares were given birth
to a future I never wanted to be,
A future I want to again never be

But I did dance and how I did cry
But didn't I laugh? I did drink
And I can't help but wonder:
Can I understand any of it?

Tomorrow the world will know
and as you stare at my emptiness
your thoughts will run wild
and my future will be yours

Tomorrow I will be me,
for the first time,
for ever.
Tomorrow you will see me
and nothing,
no nothing,
will ever
be
the same.