The difference between how actors laugh in blooper reels
vs. how they laugh as characters? Baudrillard says: it is TV
that renders true. Let the fake laugh stand in for the real.
I got so high I thought I went insane, for a split second
is only interesting if you smoke pot or are insane.
What feeling that looks like. Miguel mocks me, saying:
you sound like you should be on a television show, meaning
my real life is so believable it should be art.
My ex was so good in bed I was embarrassed
how loud I was and how lazy: I convinced myself
he liked it and got him to agree. Now I masturbate
and think of our intimacy, how dirty.
When I meet a couple, I always imagine them
stuck together like insects, struggling
to get inside and outside the body. It’s true,
I want sex. But I never leave the house for it.
A History of Sex
My ex covered my mouth like Serrano’s
A History of Sex. It felt like he could break
my neck. I didn’t know, what was I
supposed to do? A boy, pretending a man
lay in bed with me. Pray. God won’t let you be
gay. Mom pulled me against her body.
In Man to Man: a History of Gay Photography
the models get more naked, more gay.
Page 77: Roger is perfect—sailor-shirtless,
then sailor-naked, only a hat to cover him.
Mapplethorpe hung a dick from the open fly
of a three-piece suit. Hujar captured a man
leaning back with his erection. Hervé Guibert
photographed fingers pressed—slightly blurred—
against a chest. I needed little more than that.
James Bidgood lit men into sparkle. Alex Aleixo
collaged a tatted god behind Liz Taylor. Duane
Michals cropped a torso with a treasure trail.
My grandfather was a preacher and prayed
over me. My mom’s breasts were warm as clothes
from the dryer. Warhol rendered men with primary
colors. When I had sex with my ex, I watched
planes cross inside the frame the skylight made.