By Jeff Walsh
Sitting in the president of Atlantic Records' Los Angeles office, during a day-long string of interviews, Extra Fancy lead singer Brian Grillo finally realizes how far he's come four years after the birth of his band.
"It is so incredible in here. It just hit me that I'm sitting in the president's office looking all the way as far as Santa Monica, and I have the whole office to myself," Grillo says. "It's almost as big as my whole house."
By Jeff Walsh
In a recent phone interview, Brent Calderwood reflected back on his years of being openly gay and politically active. From the time his picture appeared on the front pages of area newspapers, to his stint as senior editor at insideOUT magazine, and then his freelance writing career. Of course, there was also his run as a media mogul, speaking on gay issues on radio shows and on the nationally-syndicated Gabrielle Carteris talk show.
By Jeff Walsh
No one will have to remind Kelli Peterson that high school is a time she won't forget. And even if this 17-year-old did forget her senior year, she can just look back on the newspaper and local television clippings, and -- of course -- there was also that MTV News segment.
Peterson, who has been an out lesbian at East High School in Salt Lake City, UT for two years, decided to work on starting a club for gay students last winter.
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.
Yet, I should not have let
your hands hold me close
or your words steal my heart