I Know.

I know you're reading this, you motherfucker.

You liar, betrayer, boyfriend stealer.

You guiled your way into my life, pretended to be my friend, then fucked my boyfriend behind my back.

My site logs have captured your IP address, your google search terms: I know it's you, fucker. I've hidden your name in this blog with white font like this: ASSHOLE, a white word. Highlight it and see what I think of you. I've hidden it for the search engines to mine, to excavate. It's all out there.

I KNOW.

You think I've forgotten? I've got a long memory and I've got a blog. You can read about the hurt that you've caused me, it's in here, it's all in here, among the archives. Read it! READ. IT. Giggle at how stupid I was. Snicker at my trust. Go on, laugh at me.

It was shitty for a long time, but I got over it. I moved on. I fucked other people. I fucked other people's boyfriends. I just had to know what it was like. I just had to get into your head, because I couldn't get into your head with a hammer.

You can keep coming back, but that white word? It'll be here forever, a nugget of iron pyrite in an ore of gold. I hated you. I forgave you.

I don't forgive you.

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Self-Googling is Masturbation - It's compulsive, I know, but I do it too most nights when I'm lonely.

Blog Gimmickry - Without putting up naked pictures of yourself, nobody will your blog.

I AM QUEER

When former NBA player Tim Hardaway said "I hate gay people," it was reprehensible, horrific because it's so so wrong to hate, you know, the mentally retarded. I am just so glad he's not talking about us fags. It's interesting how the word 'gay' has now become synonymous with 'stupid' or 'dumb' or 'unfashionable.' I am not sure why the Queers got so up in arms about this; Hardaway was just using the language of the streets.

At first, I thought that yeah, I can hear the irony in that. Gay people have become smug in the 21st century with our wit, our clothes and our nimble dance moves. We needed to be taken down a notch. What's better than to appropriate our word and use it against us?

Once, my boss, that sweet sixty year-old Japanese woman said to me, "Paul, that outfit's sooo gay," I got pissed. Granted, I was wearing a halter top, but that's beside the point. When little ole ladies are using what used to be street vernacular in their language, you know it's ingrained in the culture.

I have come to accept that there's nothing I can do about the use of the word 'gay,' just as I can't do anything about how 'beeeeeyatch' should be used. I think it should only be used on mothers who wouldn't let you wear nail polish.

I think we should stop using the word 'gay' to identify ourselves. We should use other words more, like 'homo' or 'queer' or even 'fabulous!!!' which I think is more meaningful, stronger, more in-your-face, like a fart in an elevator.

I'd like to be in a very long elevator ride down Sears Tower with Isaiah Washington, press the emergency stop button and let out a big wet fart. Do you think he'll make out with me afterwards?

And when people start using 'queer' like 'gay' (as they inevitably will), we'll move on to 'butt muncher.'

We'll always be one step ahead of everyone.

C'mon everybody! Who's with me? Tell Tim, tell Isaiah, tell 'em all: YOU ARE GAY. I AM QUEER.


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Never Lose Hope - A rant. All queers want to have is love and to be loved. Really.

Why Change? - Outright lies about those tortured beings, those wretched homosexuals.

Happy Valentine's Day

...and the Bees

Would you like to look into my underwear drawer? Come, lets!

My underwear drawer is the second one from the right. I am not really sure how this became the underwear drawer--I’m sure some people have their closets organized so that each item they are putting on is stored next to the one that should go on next: the ties are next to the dress shirts; the sweaters next to t-shirts; the jackets next to the feather boas. In my mind, the only thing that should be stored next to your underwear is your bong. I would put my sex toys in there too, but I don’t think I can fit a fireplug in my underwear drawer.

I’m a briefs kinda guy. I like to wear briefs because it’s comfortable and provides support, unlike boxers where I feel like my balls are waiting to bungee-jump off a bridge.

While I only buy briefs, half my underwear drawer is occupied by boxers. Every single one of these boxers was given to me by people I’ve dated in the last ten years for Valentine’s Day.

I guess that giving underwear these days is supposed to be a romantic gesture: a sweet gift that tells our lovers we would like to get a blowjob in the very near future. These gifts are supposed to seduce our lovers, so we give them a pair of silky underwear or a lacy peignoir or a clown suit. It’s a very subtle message, much like after cooking a well-prepared gourmet dinner, you give your lover some strawberry-flavored lube. And then you take out the whip.

All my boxers are festooned with romantic iconography, symbols of love and relationships: hearts, cupids, Dr. Phil. I’ve also noticed lately, that marketers have been trying to expand this gallery of tired old images. A couple of pairs had little bees on it, which I guess is supposed to invoke sweet thoughts of honey and honeycombs, but for me, only invokes thoughts of itching.

These two pairs were given to me by this one guy I dated who called me his "honey," which I thought would’ve been really romantic if he didn’t usually follow it with, "not tonight, I have a headache." He also had been cheating on me. Call me crazy, but I think he started calling me "honey" because he was afraid he would accidentally use the other guy’s name while we were having sex.

I have been with a few men in my life--okokok 241 men, jeez. So, I’ve been called a few pet names: "sweetie," "babykins," "shithead." My favorite has always been "shithead." That’s because I felt it was the most honest relationship I had been in, he called it like it was. He called a spade a spade, a heart a heart, and a club, something you whack your astronaut’s new girlfriend with.

But girls (and by girls, I mean all of you--lesbians, straight men, carnies. Yeah, you.), forget the underwear, there are only two things that should be in your Valentine’s repertoire: how to make a nice steak and how to give a good blowjob. If you’re vegetarian, then I’m sorry, but didn’t you know you were already eating meat? Then, learn to grill a steak, girl. Good luck.


Just so you don't say that I'm a tease, here are the pics of my underwear. The one to the right is my favorite pair, the blue one with the cute little devils. Yes dear, all gays love Satan.





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It Don't Smell Like Roses - I believed in the Happily Ever After. Boy, was I wrong.

Tug of War - To win the battle for supremacy in any relationship, one must be very very crafty.

Marquis de Sade

DJ Evil Twin is back! Check out these new remixes of Sade classics. Four of them are new, the others are mixes have appeared here before.




I am extremely proud of this project; I think it is some of the best ones I've done. These are all pop/dance mixes of the original songs, geared towards shaking your booty.

In the Soulful Mix of No Ordinary Love, I added a gospel vocal sample and a pulsing bass. The keyboards in Somebody Already Broke My Heart reminded me of Ciara's My Goodies, so I cut a small sample of that song into the DJ Evil Twin Hearts Ciara Mix. In the Deep Sea mix of Pearls, I added a deep house sample and the ping from The Killers' All These Things That I Have Done. I thought it added a bit of drama into the song. I went totally Old Skool with Cherish The Day by adding a lot of scratches, a metallic beat and a surprise sample in the breakdown.

As with my previous DJ project "Best Beths," I will be giving away 5 HAND-MADE (wow! ;P ) CDs to the first 5 people who request it. All you have to do if you're interested in it is to send me your mailing address and your blog URL so I can send it to you. You MUST have a blog.



DJ Evil Twin in MySpace!
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Best Beths - DJ Evil Twin remixes 11 songs by Beth Orton. Wow.

I AM the Evil Twin - Okokok, my secret identity is out, now read about why I'm eeeevil.

Recommended Sade CDs: