By Jeff Walsh
As the keyboardist for Faith No More, Roddy Bottum bent the stereotypical image of the "gay piano player." His melodic piano capped the band's monster hit "Epic," which until his piano solo is a rollicking metal-rap song. Bottum plays the melody at the part near the video's end where a fish is flipping around on the dirt.
By Jeff Walsh
Gina Gutierrez was born in San Francisco, and lived only an hour away from it throughout her teen years. In 1990, while a senior in high school, she was prominently featured in the educational film "Gay Youth." She then attended Hampshire College, in the queer-friendly Amherst, Mass. But now, Gutierrez is living in a small town in Puerto Rico. Her close-cropped or shaved head seen in the video, is now waist-length. Her "little boy body" in the video, as she calls it, is now more filled out.
By Jeff Walsh
"Are you taping, I hope?" Camille Paglia asks instantly upon answering the phone in her office in the Humanities Department at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia.
Initially, it seems like an odd question, until the rapid-fire magical mystery tour through Paglia's thought process on gay teens begins.
As I've slowly become more aware of the possibility that any of the girls I know could be more with me, I've almost wished that my feelings had remained obscure. When the dance teacher comes close to me to show me where my position on the stage will be, I can smell her sweet perfume and am thinking about how attractive she is. I looks at the beautiful asian girls in my class and almost feel sad as I realize how nice they look. So then I started wondering: What's the different between simply admiring a woman's beauty - and feeling jealous - and being... turned on by what one sees? I think I intuitively know the answer to this, but whenever it comes to sexuality issues I second-guess myself.
modernist fragmentation, re-interpreted
I haven't been on for a while, sorry.
On Thursday, my mom found me blacked out in my bathroom. No one comes in my room so I had been there for a while. She couldn't wake me up because I had overdosed on Lituims, and painkillers, not to mention I had been using weed. She took me to the hospital and I had to get my stomach pumped. You don't want that expierence, trust me.
My brother, Jack, he's a year older than me (18) and him and his girlfriend got busted for selling and possesion of coke, and some weed and stuff. They go to court soon.
my poem ~feb. 23, 2003
I can't feel; I can't breathe
My throat shuts off
The pain is numbed by the fact I want to die
My lungs burn as the water comes in
The slits on my wrists bleed
As the water turns a dark red
My eyes are open and stare at nothing
I wait for him, the angel of death
To take me to hell, at least it's better then this.
My letter to Stacy, former friend. She called me a slut on Friday for some stupid shit. I sent it in the mail yesterday.
9 slashs... on my arms...
Yet, I should not have let
your hands hold me close
or your words steal my heart