The problem isn't coming out gay.

My problem is always coming out bi. Everyone knows I'm gay (even people I don't know know me). The trick is going... "but wait, you, you I'll fuck" to people I find particularly tasty.

Then there's the whole inevitable "but I thought you were married and gay..." thing. So tedious.

I want a button.

"I'm gay and married.

Except for you, sweetass. Get over here."


***

Yeah, yeah, I'm all talk.

Anyway... so last night despite things being the chaos they've been, my fabulous family gave me some very precious, much needed writing time.

I cloistered myself away in the office, ate garlic pasta, drank, mantled over the keyboard a while, and emerged after some time to take some things to the washer.

Bec said, "I thought you were writing."

"I am writing," I said. "I've written two words. That's good, isn't it?"

"Only if they're 'the end,'" she said.


***


Rebecca's bloggin'.

Not the one I'm married to; the sevenling-writin', marathon-runnin', fellow mnemonic plague carryin' one.




- posted by Kate @ 10:45 AM