I have have been sick with a horrible hacking cough so hence small hiatus from this here personal blog. Be back when I’m back on my game.

But I saw this today and ya’ll just need to know about it. I been watching this ‘like a hawk in the sky, a bird of prey’ aka on repeat.

His music has strong powers. First I was like, “hey look a goofy looking white dude” but by the end of the video I was kinda in <3. Maybe for 2010 I should get married to this guy.

[via w33d]

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Well, here’s one and it’s worth a watch. This guy has some emoting to do about being a femme top. PREACH, SISTAH! AND DO IT IN SONG!

Femme tops want ur sex!!!!

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Did you know that stereotype that gay men all suffer from horrible relationships with their fathers? I didn’t think it was true. But then YouTube proved me wrong. Apparently it’s a huge deal to post your one’s own rendition of “Oh Father” online if you’re a gay man. I don’t 100% understand it. If I was going to cover a song and post it on YouTube, I would cover something more like “Banana Phone”, which is a little more my pace.

But back on topic, “Oh Father” has been trending really hard apparently, and I’ve just been oblivious. Some of the best below:

Midwestern emo goth gay version:

Weird homemade movie about child molestation and abuse:

Indie gay:

Midi gay:

If you had to cover a song and post it to YouTube, what would it be?

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But this time off, being broke a little too broke to fly away on vacation, has given me time to think. With all this gay marriage going around, we need to remember that the purpose of gay marriage is really to legitimize families. This includes your legitimizing your adopted kids, and we need to be responsible about naming them if we’re going to have them. I’ve been doing a bit of thinking about the whole process of pairing up, whether or not I want kids, and whether or not I would ever want kids enough to be a single father if I start to get old and still am not gay married. Also, in my refusal to blog about or see Bruno (because it looks stupid and boring, not because of GLAAD’s statement), I really needed a topic for this week.

I had a conversation last night with Erin of The Steeez and The Nudes last night about all the awesome names I could give my adopted baby.

Erin: I HAVE TO TELL YOU SOMETHING
decartes had a sexy fetish for… CROSS EYED WOMEN
why did i not know this in high school when i was reading him?????????
AHHHHH
me: that’s AWESOME
Erin: I KNOW FUCK
Erin: i’m naming my son rene
just in case he has bad eyes
me: I would probably name a child something like… hoyt or holden
Erin: fuck you. HOLDEN?
me: colby
Erin: COLBY
LIKE THE SHITTY CHEESE
name him TOME at least
name him Sheeps Tome Fitzpatrick
Grassy Meadow Tome Fitzpatrick
me: colby, middle name jack
I kind of always wanted to name a kid vestibule
vestibule fitzpatrick
Erin: OMG NO!!!!!!!! VESTIBULE??????? NOOOOOOOO
me: i think it’s awesome
Erin: I’m starting a nonprof called “colin can’t name a baby”
me: i’ll just name him pre-shredded sargento fitzpatrick
Erin: “Ourpassion Ischeese Fitzpatrick”
me: that’s awesome
Erin: why dont you just name it “data center linux fitzpatrick”?
me: omg, if it’s a girl, first name dot, middle name matrix
dot matrix fitzpatrick
Erin: you’re child will never, ever, ever, have sex
not even one time
me: i probably want a hippie name
like Zephyr
Aurora
Erin: i believe that “zephyr” was ruined as a word after in her shoes, the movie with biggie greek wedding and cammie diaz
Erin: “wagging her something head”
maybe not
but SOMETHING ruined zephyr
it may have been shakespeeeez but tevs, still a no
what about Wheat Germ Abraham Fitzpatrick
Kinda new, kinda jew
me: grape nuts fitzpatrick
L. Casei Immunitas Fitzpatrick
Kombucha Fitzpatrick
Erin: omg, wait
Novel Fitzpatrick
me: I LIKE THAT
Erin: WHY has no one named their kid that
me: Novel for a boy
Erin: it’s so bad it’s UNBELIEVABLE that it’s orig
Novel the boy and girl name…
Novel and
me: Crested Butte Fitzpatrick
Erin: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, nothing that’s too butt-y, people are already racist against you
me: Buttressed Roots Fitzpatrick
Erin: KSGBLSDGHLSDKGNSD
Archway Fitzpatrick
Erin: Dash Snow Fitzpatrick
Gauranteed Heroin Problem Fitpatrick
Problem Fitzpatrick
me: YES
Erin: DONT HAVE A DRUG BABY!!!!!!!!!!!
me: hahaha
problem fitzpatrick should be MY nickname
trouble fitzpatrick
Erin: OMG I GOT IT!!!!!!!
Lentil Fitzpatrick – your DAUGHTER!!!!!!!!
me: OMG I LOVE THAT
Erin: your daughter is so lentil
me: awesome erin
Erin: it’s not EXACTLY hippies, bc it has old school roots
your daughter Lentil is sooooo open minded and cool
i ask her what flannel to wear
me: she’s really a free spirit – like her daddy
Erin: i ask her if i can have a 3some with my bf

Seriously though, besides the name, did you guys notice that René Descartes HAD A FETISH FOR CROSS EYED WOMEN? These sorts of bites of trivia are what I love for.

Back on topic — What would you name your gay adopted baby?

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However, the existence of this video did force me to ask a very important question. How is performance art changing with the advent of the internet? Is this just a tween crying out for attention?

OR

Could this be faked to make her look more “rolly polly” as the video titles it? I mean, somebody did make a fake, horrifying dildo video (NSFW!!!)… Is she making an important statement about body dysmorphia like Jenny Saville? Is this just the way that artists are transforming their work to keep up with current technology and social media?

Jenny Saville. Closed Contact #10, 1996.

It’s just so hard to believe in anything since the Internet started, guys.So I leave it up to you, give your response in this poll.

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I am kind of dying… I’m so happy it finally got edited. But it’s ridiculous and I forgot what I looked like back when I had hair and no tattoos… so it’s.. bittersweet?

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Oh George Ramirez! You’re MY American idol! (Sigh)

[via Videogum]

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So I was laid up most of the weekend in bed trying to get over my cold. Actually most of the evenings last week as well. So sorry if I sent any bizarre emails to anyone, I was really bored and on cough syrup. Besides that the only thing I really accomplished was watching a ton of TV online with my computer, rediscovering my love of a classic teen series The O.C. It’s become enough of an obsession where I’ve started referring to my O.C. time as “Hangin’ with Marissa Cooper” or “Hangin’ with the Coop,” not to be confused with the TGIF hit Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper. (starring Raven Symoné! Love her so much when she rides  a segway.)

And there are plenty of reasons I now love The O.C. and I think everyone should revisit 2005 or whenever this show was highly blogged about.

1. Being nostalgic about something from just 2 years ago is really entertaining. In my head.

2. As my bestie Eeez from Steeez has said in the past, Mischa Barton basically looks like a sexy version of E.T. I can’t take my eyes off her. See below:

The similarities are undeniable.

3. The amazing covers of popular nineties songs wich populate the soundtrack, my favorites of which are some weird pop emo cover of “Forever Young” and a cover of Bright Eyes’ “I Want A Lover I Don’t Have to Love.” I hadn’t thought about Bright Eyes in a while and hearing it on The O.C. made me find this little gem:

Love nostalgia for 2003 and sorostitutes who love Bright Eyes.

So should I get really into Bright Eyes now? Is it ok to be post-ironically  into the early 00’s? In case you want to join me, you can find the first season of The O.C. at hulu.com and the third season at theweb.com.

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Point is, I was listening to Guided By Voices‘ Bee Thousand the other day and really felt like maybe Robert Pollard was predicting the future. Normally I’d abhor posting song lyrics on a site, but I’m making an exception for myself because I think Guided By Voices may be the best ever (realize when you read this that I also fetishize low-fi production), and I don’t understand why the world doesn’t agree. Normally I think that posting song lyrics is for teenagers who have livejournals and check out people on Make Out Club back when it was basically a weird message board in 1998, a time when the Internet was young and we didn’t know better. You might as well consider this entry living at gmsc.livejournal.com.

After the jump, lyrics to the song that maybe predicted our current location in history, “Echoes Myron.”

Tower to the skies
An academy of lies
And what goes up
Surely must come down
And we felt the mighty blow-up
With the walls coming down
Or something like that

Most of us are quite pleased
With the same old song
And all of a sudden I’m relatively sane
With everything to lose and nothing to gain
Or something like that

Man of wisdom and man of compromise
Man of weak flesh in an armored disguise
All fall down

If its right you can tell echos myron like a siren
With endurance like the liberty bell
And he tells you of the dreamers
But he’s cracked up like the road
And he’d like to lift us up, but were a very heavy load
And were finally here and shit yeah its cool
And shouldn’t it be – or something like that

Right, guys? So fuckin’ deep. If you couldn’t tell the first half of the song is about the Bush years, the fall of that regime, and how Obama wants to lift us up but it’s gonna be a hard job. Love you, Bob. You make great music.

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Really? In my world camo hats and beards and pretty homosexual. Who are these strangers IMing him all the time asking if he’s really gay? Because all you crazy strangers with no gaydar whatsoever need to stop this nonsense.

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Erin: how was wall e?
should i go see it?
me: omg
you would love it
i actually cried out “oh no” in a high pitched voice at one point
really loudly when I was too involved in the action
Erin: yesssssss
me: even though I have a lot of criticisms
it’s super cute and fun
like, REALLY cute
it’s majorly an erin movie
you will be obsessed after you see it
omg, it’s so cute
plus there are obese people who learn to live again

And now for the criticisms and these include numerous spoiler alerts.

1. I think Wall-E may promote abusive relationships. Through the entirety of the movie Eva treat Wall-E like total crap but he still comes begging back. She’s a career driven bitch who cares nothing about Wall-E and only about her “directive.” By the end of the movie, he convinces her to beleive in their love, but I find something about her sea change of emotions totally unbelievable. The message in this movie is kind of like an abused woman that if she could only love her husband/boyfriend enough he would stop hitting her and show his love in return.
2. I love that the obese people learn to live again and re-colonize earth and all, but I have a really hard time understanding how their softened, roly-poly bodies are able to adapt to both full gravity and the harsh wind and lightening storms on planet earth. A proper epilogue should show them all dying of starvation and disease 5 years later. I’m not sure I was really rooting for them to return to earth since it would obviously lead to their eventual destruction.
3. This last criticism is the way I feel about all Dreamworks/Pixar films and why I secretly tend to bar myself from seeing their movies in the theaters. There were several serious moments that they then ruin with slapstick comedy. The best example is when there’s this darkly romantic moment between Eva and Wall-E where they are watching these giant tankers burn on a barren landscape. The directors/producers immediately ruin this moment, which could be amazing had they stuck with the stillness and solemnity of the moment, by having Wall-E engage in some slapstick physical comedy trying to flirt with Eva. It’s retarded. Come on guys, this is a serious topic, I mean, there is a mass of floating bags the size of Texas floating in the Pacific Ocean right now, known as the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, and we shouldn’t be laughing about it.

Anyways, I totes recomend Wall-E as a fun date movie or something. Whatever. I’m so depressed now thinking about all the plastic in our oceans. I’m going to go suffocate myself in a plastic bag. Have fun at the movie.

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Both of us had the same difficulty with this. There’s just so much depressing music that we both love. Limiting our Muxtape to 12 songs made us both feel like the mixes had certain inadequacies. Needless to say, Hannah brough her A-game. Both of the mixes available after the jump.

First, I present you with Hannah’s saddest muxtape in the world.

And now, my effort to create the most soul crushing, yet reflective, mix of music.

We both really seem to have brought our A-game here. Hannah’s inclusion of Tom Waits’ “Take It With Me” is particularly suicide inducing. In retrospect, I would have loved to have included some Antony, old Neko Case, or some Casiotone For The Painfully Alone, but what’s done is done.

With the exception of Xiu Xiu, we have very little band overlap, which makes our mixes in combo particularly dangerous. I claim no responsibility for any cutting that might arise as a result of listening to these alone in your room. I do, however, competently support consuming entire pints of Haagen Dazs in a single sitting as an alternative response.

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But I do however, have the best safer sex PSA from France to show you all courtesy of my pal Erin. I’m kind of obsessed with it and watched it on repeat in bed today. It’s really super cute and shows exactly why the French are superior and allowed to be as snobby as they want towards Americans. Also, I relate to the main character, and it makes me emo.

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To fend off the cold, this week I made a video with good friend Justin in honor of Daniel Day-Lewis’ (”I Drink Your Milkshake”) win at the Oscars as well as my own discovery of the “No Homo” internet meme. Apparently people have been making “No Homo” videos since 2003? WTF? How did I never see these before.

Now witness the glorious union of two internet memes.

And yes… I did end the segment with bad emo music. Because no clip of mine is really complete without that.

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I’ve always had a problem going out. Despite my being positive that most, like me, wouldn’t dare approach others at a party or bar (or in a public setting, for that matter), I think I’ve been proven wrong. Usually aided with loads more alcohol than I consume, gay guys at the few bars I frequent seem to have little to no trouble making light conversation with others. I, on the other hand, am so self-conscious, so ready to edit my words and actions at a moment’s notice, that the idea of making small talk with a dude (sober or not) is so clearly an unnatural, put-upon facade meant to get one’s number [or tushy], I can’t fathom that either parties would tolerate such silliness.

Apparently, I’m wrong.

I’ll admit that I have a somewhat poor self-image, not likely helped by my unshakable Jewwy neuroses and inner elderly Black lesbian (for real). That said, I’ve been called cute on numerous occasions, most people like me, and I make an excellent boyfriend. So why can’t I merely gather the ballz to approach cute dudes on the subway or in a bar?

Please offer your suggestions in the comments.

Note: I’ve already tried doing this, but apparently I wasn’t as pretty as the lady in the video:

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On the way we formed an emo band. Here’s the cover of our first album, titled “Emperor Palpatine.”

It’s about having a broken heart but then finding refuge in the solitude of nature. The splendor of the Connecticut skyline really speaks to that, but you’d know that unless you were an insensitive jerk who didn’t cry during Titanic or The Last Unicorn.

We shot some inserts to go with the album as well.

We have a couple hit singles coming soon, “My Tears Are Frozen” and “I Am Happy But Can’t Stop Weeping (Because I Am Recovering From Bell’s Palsy and My Body Can’t Tell The Difference Between The Signals Being Sent To My Salivary Glands And Tear Ducts).” We’re only releasing on vinyl though; it’s an eighty dollar box set.

We never found a clam bake. We ended up eating at a small oyster house called Elm Street Oyster House, after getting lost. The meal was unremarkable with the exemption of our total fox of a waiter, Bobby, who was clean cut, dressed well, and very, very WASPy looking. I always assume WASPy Conneticut guys are kind of like the male equivalent of Catholic schoolgirls, clean and upstanding in public but nasty pigs in bed.

Thank god for iPhones and Google maps or else we would have never found a decent New England seafood house. Apparently we found the only one in Greenwich because otherwise the town is full of upper class, white America’s favorite cuisine. Pan Asian.

A couple times we got close to getting lost and it was right when the iPhone was running out of batteries. And on that note, a short piece of fiction:

It was dark all around and the trees blotted out the moon. The gang and I had been on a day trip to look at the castles in the New England countryside and had somehow taken a wrong turn. It hadn’t seemed to bad. The neighborhood was nice and the houses were monstrous. Usually you don’t expect to find crime in these sorts of neighborhoods.

I had started to feel nervous as dusk approached and I noticed more and more children standing by the side of the road, thowing us menacing looks. All of these children had brown hair, blue eyes, and outfits from LL Bean. Since dusk however, we hadn’t seen a soul. Hell, we couldn’t even see beyond our headlights in this dark.

A small electronic blip rang from the back of the car where Charlie was navigating.

“Shit,” said Ben, ” The iPhone is running out of batteries. Quick , get a pen and write down the directions from the list on Google maps.”

“Too late. It’s just died,” Charlie replied, his voice quavering with hidden fear.

I tried to calm everyone down. “It’s fine. We’ll figure our way out of this. I remember the address was 11 Elm Street.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t West Elm Street.”

“Yeah.”

After 15 minutes, Michael started squirming. “You guys…. I really have to go to the bathroom. Can we pull over? I’ll just find a spot near on of these manicured hedges.”

Ben pulled the car over and Michael wandered into the thick blackness. After 15 minutes, we started to get nervous. After a half hour, we knew something had happened to him. That’s when we first heard a scratching at the window.

I can’t describe what peered up and into the car from the left front window. I can try. It was slimy, had a beak, blue eyes. It had a stinger on it’s butt and two clear wings, that may or may not have been vestigial, and was wearing a dress from Coldwater Creek. Michael’s shoe was in it’s mouth, and a tentacle clutched a severed hand.

Ben hit the gas and we never returned to Greenwich or spoke of that horrid night again.

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