Tag Archives: lgbt

Gay Bomb

Friends,

I performed last night and ate shit as hard as I’ve ever eaten shit that I can remember. The bar was Bandera Negra and the show itself was called Just One Wish Before I Die…

Cool poster, tho, rite?

It was 8 Mile bad. I choked. I was high off brownies and acid. I was perhaps tired—I’d been playing out in the streets for the better part of the previous 36 hours, and there was miscommunication with the venue (my fault) re: what kind of event it was gonna be. But whatever, I’ll eat all that. It’s my fault, all of it.

I fuckin’ bombed. It hurt. I will come back from this; in fact, I already have. I was ready to play like half an hour later and was shredding along to the Stones, but the promoter stopped me because I guess he was too butt-hurt that the initial performance didn’t go as he thought it would.

Oh, and that goes back to the title of this post—it turns out it was a gay bar (which of course throws that poster into a more interesting light) and as I was arguing like, “Let me play now, look how many people are here!” I felt this weird dom vibe like they were more wounded and angry than just business would dictate, and they wanted me humbled. Like by not putting me on they were teaching me a lesson, but by not putting me on it just made it look more and more like I was taking the piss from everyone who had come out.

The place was packed after all, and I didn’t bail, I hung around and drank with people, and schmoozed with the friends I brought. We were cool by the time I left with me making song requests and such, but as soon as the doors closed to the outside public I’m like, “That’s my cue!…” and I bounced.

Just One Wish Before I Die

I’m beginning to think this show is cursed—my final party in Mexico City last season was also called the same thing, with a similarly cool poster to boot….

….and that party was a little under-attended for my tastes and I ended up having a particularly salty spat by using irreverent humor with a Jewish female friend whom I was trying to cheer up.

Maybe I’m putting too much pressure on myself, and this lyric, Just One Wish Before I Die is part of it. Too high-concept? Too dark? Too immature, drawn from a Motley Crue lyric as it is? Maybe all. Maybe more.

One of the bright sides to me bombing was that this other Canadian dude, Vince, saw me bomb just before leaving town on a bus. I have felt distance the last few days from Vince because this girl, Shayla seemed more into me than him and I have always made good account of myself in group settings where he’s been around and so seeing me humbled might have been good for both of us.

“I’m not gay. I told you; I’m a deeply closeted gay man.”
-Norm Macdonald (rip)

I’m also beginning to think I’m attracting a lot more gayness into my life than I otherwise that I would; more specifically, I am attracting it unknowingly, naively A lot of my friends whom I took to be women are actually trans women it seems. They’re still my friends, and I feel attracted to their feminine energy, but when I find out—found out—I felt really dumb and clueless. I take people at face value, and that goes for how they present. In the final analysis, I’m glad I’m so naive, because I’ve seen dudes who are so cynical and jaded that they assume every woman is a dude, and that kind of mistrust I think is toxic, whereas I just get an occasional surprise sometimes in my relationships (before things get to the bedroom of course, because I’ve learned to take my time and get to know people before sex….thank God).

Fuck it tho—even Iceberg Slim got fooled once, and I daresay I’ve handled my friend’s gender reveals cooler than that ice-cold motherfucker.

Speaking of Iceberg, one thing I did right: If you’re gonna fail, make sure you look is on point.

Stay black!

-AG

PS Left gay bar, went to mezcal bar, left with girls. They kept looking over at me promisingly as we walked to the night club.
I couldn’t get in with guitar. Got some tacos.
Walked through park on way home. Get accosted and approached by some junkie.
He approached me from behind and I waited for his hand to touch my shoulder.
I whirled on him and forcefully, loudly screamed into his face,”No me toques!”
This caught him off guard and he stopped pawing at me for a moment, I quickened the pace and he head-butted me, hitting me in the upper arm, then tried kicking my leg in retreat.
I guess he thought that this dandy walking through park carrying a guitar and amp was low-hanging fruit.
As he kicked, I lifted my leg, evading it like a choreographed dance, and stared at him as he shrunk into the shadows.
I crowed, loudly, like a rooster. Three times, drowning out the muttered, ineffectual cursing from the shadows.
Not even on your best day.
Not even on my worst night.
Ain’t found a way to kill me yet.

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The Truth That Makes You Squirm*

Friends,

This past Friday I attended a production at The Staircase called Slut (R)evolution, a one-woman show starring Cameryn Moore.

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At the risk of over-simplifying the subject matter, the performance was an exploration of her sexual development, and showed the progression through sexual awakening, becoming a lesbian, slutting it up in college and becoming straight again (sic.).  I stuck around for a few minutes after the show and spoke briefly with her, and when she asked me what I thought I kind of blurted out that I was extremely uncomfortable for the whole hour and a half.  Rather than be put off or insulted she seemed to take it in stride and asked me why.

My response wasn’t very eloquent and I said something (only half-honest) about the subject matter (BDSM) being very racy for my vanilla sensibilities.  But in reality it wasn’t that at all; free and open access to internet porn has more or less taken the edge off seeing extreme sex, let alone hearing about it.  Rather I felt uncomfortable by just how vulnerable Cameryn made herself.  She really laid herself bare for all to see, and save for a few uneasy laughs at the beginning I was mostly dead quiet throughout the show. It’s hard for me to say what the exact cause of my discomfort was but here were a few things that made me uneasy:

The Backlash Against the Commodity Status of Female Sexuality

Traditionally a woman’s virginity has been viewed as a symbol of her virtue, and while things have relaxed to the point where women can breathe a little bit and have some of that sweet pre-marital, even that has imposed limits.  After all, many of us likely have a number in our heads of how many men is acceptable for a woman to be with (a symptom of our society’s obsession with quantification among other things), and where does that leave women who go past that number?  There is an amorphous, poorly-defined line which seems to widen and narrow arbitrarily which a woman must walk if she wishes to explore her sexuality without being seen as a slut by others.  The solution of course (like the solution to so many things) is for a woman stop caring about what others think, because its none of their business who she has sex with.

However, some women instead react to the pressure by becoming the insatiable sluts they have already been pre-judged to be,

eminem the way i am

“I am whatever you say I am; if I wasn’t then why would I say I am?”

and even go so far as to delude themselves into believing that they are being liberated.  This is not me just making this up; Moore makes a similar assertion in her show when looking back on earlier promiscuity and how she justified it at the time as more than simply rebelling against her father.  Speaking of her father..

The Shame of Your Parents is a Motherfucker

The one time which she explicitly mentions her father is when she talks about overhearing him and her mother fighting about the crowd she had chosen to hang out with as a teenager.  Being raised a Mormon, hanging out with dudes who wore make-up apparently said a lot about her own sexuality, and she recalls hearing her father yell to her mother that she was “just a fat slut.”  She then laments that this was before she was even sexually active.  Or particularly fat.

Its funny how people’s expectations of you, particularly those of caregivers, can really influence  the course you pursue.  And when these expectations are in place alongside stringent moral standards regarding chastity, well I can only imagine the result is overwhelming for some people.  For my own part, I have often thought, “What if I had been born a girl?”  For starters, I used to drink quite a bit and go out to clubs and parties, seeking the attention of the opposite sex and looking to get laid.  I can only imagine how if I had been a girl I might have been much more successful in all of those endeavours to my own detriment.  It occurs to me that were I a girl I might have just been a fat drunk slut like so many others, but fate saw fit to give me a penis, and so society and I both regard me with a gentler eye.

Everyone is Just a Different Aspect of You

There is no artful way to say it, so I will just come out with it: I don’t find Cameryn Moore particularly physically appealing.  Furthermore, her attitudes toward toward sex, though some would call them progressive or liberated, unpleasantly remind me of an emptier time in my life where I didn’t place a particularly high value on my own sexuality and sought to just sleep with girls for the sake of bragging rights.  I will say that she is a gifted performer in that she is able to make herself completely vulnerable, but watching her show was like watching Requiem for a Dream; I saw it once and I don’t need to see it again.

In its own way, her detailing of her sexual misadventures and misuse of herself was like watching a WorldVision infomercial or a documentary about a bloody war.  Its like, “Here’s the society we enable and what we reduce people to.  A generation, nay, a society of people who don’t value themselves and aren’t valued by anyone else.”  In our own way, we are all fat sluts but we maintain a narrative that things are going according to some plan in the vain hope that we can convince ourselves of this by convincing enough of the others around us.

168308_10150174071983289_8215449_n

Cameryn Moore made me doubt the validity of my own self-affirming narrative and I am still having trouble forgiving her for that.

***

If you get a chance to see Slut (R)evolution you definitely should.  You may not be as troubled by it as I was, but if you are … well we all need our conceptions shaken up from time to time.

Best,

-Andre Guantanamo

*“Find the truth that makes you squirm” was a piece of advice I read in a Men’s Health investment guide a few years back.  The logic was that when doing a financial self-assessment you don’t want to lull yourself into a false sense of security, but rather address the areas of your finances which might not be secure.

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