I was born during Miami Vice in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Once high school was over, I made the move to New York City for college and to be two hours away from Scranton. Six years later, I am living in Brooklyn and working in Manhattan. There was a year teaching in Japan somewhere along the way, too. My wanderlust is insatiable. I love ghost stories, Joan Didion, cooking and running. 'Co będzie Twoją przygodą?' means 'What will be your story?' It's tattooed on my arm and my brain. You can reach me at email@example.com. (P.S. Thanks to Kareem for getting me in touch with TNG)
Recent Posts by Jude:
Most boys might go to a baseball game and return home wanting to be the next Derek Jeter. But in my case, every Sunday brunch and cocktail party left me desperate to be a waiter, to get paid for being charming and looking almost painfully urbane. In New York, they are their own species, an army of radiant, flawless complexions and high, tight asses. Sure, I came to this city wanting to be a writer, but by being a waiter I was really just one letter off. The position would make me grow four inches taller, give me poise and a smooth gait, ready to bring out your appetizers and top off that glass of merlot.
Co będzie Twoją przygodą?, Culture, Film »
Pornography: A Thriller is as much of a thriller as Nana’s favorite episode of her favorite CBS crime drama. As pornography, it doesn’t even measure up to a preview section of the Sean Cody website. And whatever it is exploring in its Lynchian theme of reality blurring with fantasy was already artfully machete’d by its heterosexual counterparts ten and fifteen years ago. But even though gay culture itself is traditionally marginalized, gay artists have always been at the forefront—the ones pushing boundaries, thinking outside the box and setting trends for everyone else to copy. Gay audiences don’t need gay versions of anything.
Co będzie Twoją przygodą?, Culture, Ideas »
The first time I had sex in the apartment I shared with Lorena, she complained that I had contaminated it with my “sin.” While she may have been saying this in jest, it made me wonder about the stigma of gay sex she had learned. And why choose to live with a gay man, if she had a legitimate fear of contamination?
Co będzie Twoją przygodą?, Ideas, Personal Narratives, Sex »
Lately, I have found myself going to a lot of industry fairs. It started when the gallery Guillermo works for asked him to help run their booth at SCOPE Art Show, held in Lincoln Center earlier this month. There was bad art, good art and an excess of overpriced beverages to choose from. His boss even brought us to an afterparty at The Standard Hotel in the Meatpacking District, which made me feel a little more glamorous than I normally would on a Thursday, but when she got into a screaming match with the bouncers outside about having to wait in line for the elevator, I had the realization that I am actually not Serena van der Woodsen, but a 24-year-old gay guy from Pennsylvania. But what is Serena van der Woodsen if not a 24-year-old gay guy, anyway?
Decked out in our usual, pitiful, do-it-yourself formal attire, Guillermo and I stood together in the lobby of The Met before the show, looking around. This was where all the greats performed, where Aida was entombed with Radames and Madame Butterfly took a sword to her throat each night and matinee—where Diana Ross fondled Lil’ Kim’s titty during the 1999 MTV Video Music Awards and Britney Spears stumbled around with a python two years later.
My cousin James was mysteriously absent from Christmas Eve dinner this past December. We would learn that he had surprised his girlfriend with a cavalcade of packed suitcases and two tickets to Rome, where he would ultimately propose to her in a romantic little cranny of the Coliseum. I overheard Aunt Lucille telling my mother all about it, my mouth full of kielbasa and a half-empty glass of homemade krupnik in my hand. I thought about the previous Christmas I had spent in Japan with Guillermo, how we had proposed to each other at the foot of Mount Fuji, and how we never even told anyone about it.
The first movie Guillermo and I ever watched together was The Birds. We sat on folding chairs in his kitchen, long before it would ever be our kitchen. At the beginning, the main character (played by the epic Tippi Hedren) is in a pet shop buying lovebirds. I’d heard about these birds throughout my life, usually referring to me and a girl on the playground, but now realized I’d never actually seen what they look like. They’re multicolored, no taller than the average pigeon, and can only be sold in pairs. The shopkeeper tells Tippi what the French call them: les inséparables. And as she did, Guillermo took hold of my hand and smiled. I counted each tattoo going up his arm, and down the other, and the two I knew were inside his shirt on each shoulder. We each have exactly seven.
Guillermo and I basically began living together that weekend we first met. It was only until the end of this past summer, when I returned from my year in Japan, that we made it official. We were attached at the hip from the very beginning of our relationship, which didn’t make continuing it on opposite sides of the world any easier. For the record, I have never lived with a boyfriend before.