28 08 2010


All I hear is
No bing, pang or even simple blip would suffice
But no, all I get is cold and grating
What use am I?
A cat without a purr
Lady Gaga without her gay fanbase
A dildo without a vibration

The US army could locate weapons of mass destruction better than me and my defunct gaydar
Perhaps I wasn’t given the genes:
my father didn’t love me nor did he pass on the most important genetic material
(thanks, dad)
Or perhaps gaydar is acquired:
like battling other Pokemon for experience points and leveling up:
Aaron grew to level  7!  Aaron learned “Guys who wear purple have a high probability of sleeping with other men.”
or like Super Mario collecting coins
except instead of coins it’s Madonna albums:
“Got Ray of Light today!” (1up sound)
At least a flatline means there was once life;
but it’s a television set without even a cord to plug in
It’s Straight Night every night at Celebrities
and Davie street is just another breeders’ block.
And don’t get me started on hetero heaven that is the so-called Pride Parade.
Every coming out implodes my universe:
Clay Aiken:  WTF!  But he’s even more macho than Sylvester Stallone!
Elton John:  OMG!  I just thought he had a big wardrobe!
Ricky Martin: Well, even I knew that.  *shifty eyes*

What if I die alone?
My siblings will bring their other halves to Christmas dinners;
the empty seat beside me will never be filled.
Whenever a knight throws me a glance
I’ll assume it’s meant to strike the bubbly blonde bimbo behind me
There’ll be nights of making snide comments about the girls from Sex and the City
with no one to tell me I’m an idiot,
no one to leave a warm imprint next to me in bed while he takes a morning leak
no one to find utterly repulsive
no one to find utterly attractive

wait!  What was that?


I’m From Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

26 08 2010

I came across this site about a year ago and thought it was utterly fantastic, so I decided to contribute a story that happened to me.  I’m From Driftwood is a site featuring real-life stories from and about queer youth (and some older folks, too) and it also looks like they’ve expanded to include trans people and allies, which is cool.  A lot of the stories on the site are coming out stories, but I decided to write about something different.

Here’s the link to my story:

So much to be proud of

2 08 2010

It’s almost the end of the day.  I’m sitting at home, in my boxers, after a day of fun and generally being happy, which is a rare occurance (not to say that I always have miserable days, but that I’m usually neutral/meh on the whole).  I woke up bright and early at 11am to help my buddy Steve film some performers down at the Sunset Beach Pride thingy at around 1pm and do some interviews.  I knew I wasn’t going to make it to see the entire Pride Parade, which I figured was alright, but I managed to get down to Sunset Beach just before one, where the parade was still happening.  After texting Steve and getting no response about where he was, I decided to pass the time by watching the parade.  Might as well, right?

Now, I’ve been to the parade a few times, each year seeing more and more of it.  Even with the crappy view, I was able to see some pretty awesome things; MLAs all dressed up, various LGBT groups, and of course, super fabulous costumes.  But the thing that really made me so happy to be there was simply how many people were there.  They couldn’t all be gay, obviously, and a large number of people were straight, which amazed me.  It’s not that I think all straight people are bigots or whatever, but I guess I didn’t have a good grasp just how many great heteros there are in the world.  And heteros who bring their kids!  It’s probably stupid of me to be surprised and in awe of parents who bring their kids to the Pride Parade but maybe I’ve been reading too many stories about anti-gay groups who argue about “what their kids should and shouldn’t see” and how “indecent” the whole gay thing is, etc.  It’s small things like these that really make me appareciate living in such an awesome city like Vancouver.

And across the street from me: Asian ladies, not unlike my mother, which again, floored me.  I guess I assumed, again, that most, if not all, Asian/Chinese mothers like mine were homophobic or at the very least, uninterested in going to see a parade full of queers doing queer things.

Apparently not.  Those women were reaching out for mardi gras beads, smiling and taking pictures of the parade and seemed to be having a good time.  And if they can be here and and be happy, I don’t see how many, many more Asian mothers can’t do the same.  I see no reason why my mom won’t one day come with me to the parade and have fun, and maybe, just maybe, be proud of me.

When the parade was over, I went down to the stage area by Sunset Beach when I got a text message from Joe, my other friend helping out with filming, saying to go behind the stage.  I got there and plunked myself down in front of the stage with earplugs in (thank god I brought them).  We filmed a bunch of local acts performing and then finished up.  I went to get some food since I was eeeeeempty and saw that there were sizeable lines for the food stands around, which were mainly hot dogs and smokies.  The entire area around Sunset Beach was pretty crowded and it made me happy again that people were coming out to see and participating.

I’ll make this part short–I walked all the way to Japadog, got an Oroshi dog (yuuuuum!) and went back home, tired and happy.  My mom came home and we went out to one of the nearby restaurants for dinner and when I came back home, I felt the urge to dance.

Now, before you wonder what the hell’s gotten into me, I should say that I occasionally have tendencies to move a little, get my groove on, if you will, and I settle this by doing a little jig and that’s that.  But for some reason, I really wanted to move myself and go crazy and more specifically, do it in a club, which is even more unlike me, as I stay away from clubs like top 40 radio.  Maybe it was my inner gay coming out… whatever it was, I knew I needed a more serious dose of dance to cure it this time.

I set out to see what my friends were doing and I guess most were too busy to respond.  So instead of going down to the club alone, I held a dance party in my room, and man… it was great.  I danced for about 20-ish minutes, mainly to my recent purchase of the Scissor Sisters’ album Ta-Dah!, but I was also in the mood for some Madonna.  As my cat stared at me and probably wondered, “People who have seizures are supposed to be on the floor…” and even though I probably looked like an idiot, flailing around the small space of floor in my room with my mother just outside watching horrid Chinese tv, I felt great–I felt great to be dancing; I felt great to be living in such a wonderful city; I felt great to be myself.  Me, the gay Chinese boy who is a damn good pianist, can write in a whole bunch of genres, has directed a short film, can semi-speak three different languages (not including English, of course), and is an awesome boyfriend, if he were in a relationship.

There is so much to be proud of, in all of us.  And maybe once in a while, we need to be conceited and say, “I’m pretty fucking fabulous.”

And then dance our asses off.