By Jeff Walsh
Scott Silverman is gay, despite his unkempt hair, T-shirt and jeans (which runs contrary to his living near San Francisco's Castro district for five years), and despite references in his stand-up comedy act about how much he wishes he were a smart, hot woman like Shirley Manson from the band Garbage.
By Jeff Walsh
Her book is called "The Accidental Activist," and Candace Gingrich is making the most of this accident. Her book tracks her Speaker of the House brother Newt like a lesbian version of the documentary Roger & Me, in which a laid off auto worker tried to meet the head of General Motors. But for Candace, she actually meets her brother. He doesn't say anything of merit, though. Just flip remarks about her busy speaking schedule and an offer for a face to face meeting he wouldn't honor.
By Jeff Walsh
I was at a loss when I interviewed Dan Renzi, this season's hot young gay guy on Real World V, taped in Miami. Having just moved to San Francisco, I don't yet have a TV. But I have always been a fan of the show since its inception, despite the constant debate on whether it's actually 'real' or just bullshit. Who cares? We all know how it works, believe what you want.
All Dancing in a circle
Throwing their limbs
Tossing their hair
Must be a dream
No way they can be real
Or maybe it is I
Laying here in the middle
Haven't seen Clea DuVall pictures in almost 12 hours...
and already I have the symptoms of a QGA (queer girls anonymous) trying to get off an insanely hot supposed-lesbian's blindingly beautiful features.
What will happen next?
Quick, I need another dose!
I'm new. There's nothing much I can tell you except I'm bi. It's cool. I've mostly accepted myself. I wish my family can say the same. They don't really accept it. That's alright though. They'll come around eventually. I'm 18. I'm graduating this year. I don't really have plans for after that. I don't have a significant other though. I wish that I did sometimes. No one at my school really pays me any mind.
What gives *you* the fucking right?
Happy Tuesday. I'm cheerfully ignoring Boccaccio this hour, having made it through French class despite being unprepared. It turned out that we were talking about Rimbaud and Verlaine -- I can do gay at the drop of a hat!
It is me the one who tends to toy with others emotions. I live in a small town in GA and it sucks. My friends call me Felix because they say my personality is like a cat's. I will be you slave as long as you pleasure me. I am only out in the night looking for prey, a lover if you like. So who wants to have fun?
Late last night I was temped into getting drunk again and behold I drunk my vodka. The liqure began to ramm my brain with it's dizziness spell, my body relaxes, and drifts away to sleep, forgetting the previous worries. God the dream was so morbid. I drift around, in a blink light, I saw myself with a limp left arm (possiblity of wanking to much to porn till the muscles gave out). Damn pass me the muscle relaxer! I walk around with this other dude, possiblity a son, or a good friend that I never had. There was alot of doors that led me anywhere. I dont remember what but it was wicked.