© by The Dirty Gentleman
Summer always seems like a fuzzy mess of dreams, each one overlapping each other in a blur of heat and exhaustion. Maybe it’s the haze or the maybe it’s the need to slow down, but I constantly long for moments of empty thought and slippery limbs. 
Dreams come in all shapes and forms, and when I stop trying to think or do too much of anything, they come all at once.
I close my eyes just enough and take a deep breath of warm air. Sometimes I have to let go of seeing in order to see.

© by The Dirty Gentleman

Summer always seems like a fuzzy mess of dreams, each one overlapping each other in a blur of heat and exhaustion. Maybe it’s the haze or the maybe it’s the need to slow down, but I constantly long for moments of empty thought and slippery limbs. 

Dreams come in all shapes and forms, and when I stop trying to think or do too much of anything, they come all at once.

I close my eyes just enough and take a deep breath of warm air. Sometimes I have to let go of seeing in order to see.

He

he does not know
how his lack of effort
moves me to tears
when I am alone

he does not know
how his forgiveness
requires nothing

he does not know
that his kindness
is stronger than words
and his hope is
more beautiful
than the sun setting
over the ocean

disgustingnovel:

The next night Jason and Brent returned. Crazy, beautiful, brilliant Brent and funny, awkward, nervous Jason came back. For the first time in over a year, I went out with the boys. It sounds like the start to a bad movie about fraternities, but the truth is that while I mostly had female friends,…




© by The Dirty Gentleman

Happy 4th of July you lovely queers, punks, drunks, lovers, fuckers, liars, thieves, unicorns, mermaids, painters, poets, and pirates. 

I love you all.

© by The Dirty Gentleman

Happy 4th of July you lovely queers, punks, drunks, lovers, fuckers, liars, thieves, unicorns, mermaids, painters, poets, and pirates. 

I love you all.

disgustingnovel:

I didn’t talk to Jane for three days. I picked up the phone at least six times, but I never dialed her number. I asked my roommates constantly if anyone had called, but even then I was careful. As carefree as Kelly appeared to be, I didn’t want to test that by asking about Jane in front of her….

There’s a book at Lillie’s. In a drawer. Here’s a hint. #dbi

There’s a book at Lillie’s. In a drawer. Here’s a hint. #dbi

Tags: dbi

People have been asking where they can get Dirty Boys swag recently, so I figured I’d post this again. I get more comments on this shirt, sometimes from people who have heard the podcast or come to a show, but whatever they say it’s always nice.
A friend got recognized in hers out in San Francisco last week, which was totally insane. I guess there are Dirty Boys everywhere.
Anyway, here’s the link to the store with shirts and flasks and shit.

-gny

People have been asking where they can get Dirty Boys swag recently, so I figured I’d post this again. I get more comments on this shirt, sometimes from people who have heard the podcast or come to a show, but whatever they say it’s always nice.

A friend got recognized in hers out in San Francisco last week, which was totally insane. I guess there are Dirty Boys everywhere.

Anyway, here’s the link to the store with shirts and flasks and shit.

-gny

Loving You

I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I shouldn’t admit that, and I’m honestly not looking for sympathy, but it’s the truth. I didn’t set out to write an autobiography, and I hope that’s not what this is becoming. I haven’t lived long enough or deep enough to make that worthwhile, but I suppose most of us haven’t.

What type of ego is it that makes us believe we’ve seen a grain of truth that others might have missed? That we personally have some insight that is worth sharing with the world? I suppose any time an author picks up a pen he’s channeling some of that, and maybe it’s not ego after all. In fact, we’ve all been told over and over again that it might be our job to shine. It might be our obligation to shout every revelation we have out to the stars and see what comes back to us.

For a long time I was something of an individualist. Not in the Randian sense of the word, but I read the existentialists and I was obsessed with human potential. What could I do, all by myself? It was each of us against the world, struggling to be a voice in a vast and lonely darkness.

Somewhere in time, however I read other things. I sat in meditation, and I began to wonder if in the middle of that ego driven world was a myth that was had to overcome. What if each of us was not in fact separate? What if I returned to at least the basics of my early liberal theology and remembered that if god is anything, she is love? I devoured Tich Nan Han, Annie Dillard, and Alan Watts, and it all became clearer and less clear at once. We do not come into the world, Watts says. We come out of it. We are not people in an expansive universe, we are the universe, exploring itself through touch, taste and sound by being human. Just as my chair and my desk are made up of atoms, the only thing separating them being space and time, so am I a part of everything. You and I are simply separate tendrils of existence, all connected to one beautifully complex thing whose only desire is to see more. To learn more. To be more.

And maybe that’s why we like stories. My story is in fact all of our stories. Of course our lives our different, our experiences too, but it takes the totality of human existence to tell it correctly. It’s not a very practical philosophy, but I’ve never been the most practical man in the world. Realizing that you and I are the same doesn’t make it easier when we fight and it doesn’t make the stranger on the train platform any more terrifying on a dark night. But there are occasions when it makes all the difference; when I can pause just long enough to realize I am fighting with myself. I am afraid of myself. I, that is to say all of creation, am constantly looking inward and pretending it’s something other.

So if I ask myself again, what am I doing here writing these words down, maybe the answer is simpler than I expected. Maybe if I wonder about connection and struggle, if I question my ability to communicate and thus escape my loneliness, it’s much clearer. I’m writing this for the same reason I wrote letters in college. I’m writing for the same reason I got drunk and walked the street naked with old friends, and the same reason I kissed a girl in the rain and mud.

I do love you, you see. We are separate parts of the whole, cut off by our thoughts and our experience as a sensing creature, but we are one. And for all of my life I have been desperately trying to feel the truth of that in my bones and my blood. I’ve been struggling to look through the myth of our being separate, and experience instead the reality of our connection.

But of course, loving you maybe easier than loving myself…

GNY

(note: this is from a longer piece I’ve been working on for a while. It’s not my typical QNY fodder, but I wanted to share it anyway. Hope you don’t mind.)

disgustingnovel:

I’ve been getting some lovely photos of people reading DBI recently. Thank you all so much for sharing!

disgustingnovel:

“What the fuck? You talk about wanting to hit on Kelly all day and then when she finally shows up you’re balls deep in Jane on your bed. What is wrong with you?” Rachel was waiting for me outside my room, standing in the kitchen with her hands on her hips like my mother.

“Do you mind not…

Hey kids, chapter five is up! Things start to get intense for our heroes…

disgustingnovel:

Chapter Five is up tomorrow, but in the mean time, if you’d like a copy of the book, I left one behind the Big Buck Hunter at Doc Holidays last night. If might still be there.

disgustingnovel:

Chapter Five is up tomorrow, but in the mean time, if you’d like a copy of the book, I left one behind the Big Buck Hunter at Doc Holidays last night. If might still be there.

disgustingnovel:

I just got a new box of books in! I’ll have to hide a few more. I’ll post the locations on Twitter @quickiesnewyork.

If you want me to hide one in your favorite NYC bar, let me know. I might!

disgustingnovel:

I just got a new box of books in! I’ll have to hide a few more. I’ll post the locations on Twitter @quickiesnewyork.

If you want me to hide one in your favorite NYC bar, let me know. I might!

Awake

We didn’t sleep all night.

It was hot, but we found our bodies touching over and over again, each time lasting longer than the time before. She pulled away when I caressed her arm, and I rolled over when her knee slid too high up my thigh. Early in the morning I watched, not feeling connected to my body or actions, as I leaned in and kissed her bare shoulder. When she turned to her back, her legs parted and her hand on her stomach, I didn’t look away.

When my hand replaced hers, neither of us moved it. When my fingers traced the edge of elastic neither of us said a word. Her leg pushed against mine, her hand felt my skin with intention, and I didn’t stop. She moaned when I touched hair, and she parted her thighs wider, seemingly holding her breath as I leaned forward until my hand was hovering above her wet skin. I kissed her cheek, my fingers barely tracing her, and she opened her eyes.

“Kiss me,” I whispered.

When her lips touched mine, my hand dropped, fingers opening her even as our tongues did the same. I pulled her to me, kissing her harder as she struggled with my boxers, pushing them down until her hand was around my cock. We moaned and squirmed, losing our few items of clothing until finally our sweaty bodies were just skin against skin and it was too much.

“I want you,” I said, climbing between her legs and pinning her arms above her head. “Now.”

“Yes,” she said, lifting her hips off the bed. “Yes, yes, yes.”

It took effort to penetrate her, and I finally had to reach between our legs and guide myself inside her. But when it was done, when we were as close as it was possible to be, time held still right along with us. I stared into her eyes, she slid her hands down to my ass, and then finally we kissed once more before we started to fuck.

She came within minutes, her legs wrapped around me body, her teeth pulling on my lip, and my cock buried inside her. I breathed her orgasm, never letting go of our kiss, even as she shuddered beneath me. I slowed down only enough to feel her around me, clenching and trembling as she came, and then I was fucking her once more, needing to join her in her release more than anything I had needed before.

When I came she was laughing, her body still in convulsions as I closed my eyes and arched my back, thrusting inside her over and over again as my orgasm ripped through me. My toes tingled, my hands went numb, and it felt like every ounce of life, soul, and heart filled her at the same time. I gave over completely, letting go of the world, and for a few glorious seconds I didn’t exist.

We kissed for a long time, my body growing soft inside her. Her giggles spread to me as I pushed her hair from her face and stared at her knowing eyes. She was prettier than should be allowed, and I loved her impossibly.

“Do you feel guilty?” I finally asked.

“No,” she whispered, touching my lips. “I feel stupid.”

“Why stupid?”

“Because, you silly boy. If we had done that earlier, we might have fucking slept.”

-gny

tdgpresents:

Last night we wrote our letters and prepared our salacious parcels.

It was a really lovely evening. I think you’ll enjoy what’s coming. 

tdgpresents:

Last night we wrote our letters and prepared our salacious parcels.

It was a really lovely evening. I think you’ll enjoy what’s coming.