Walk It Out

It's been far too stormy the past couple weeks. In more than one respect. And for all the rollercoastering (book-ended by intervals of ennui), I have been too rung out to post anything.

But as I sit here in a hotel room in New Kingston, overlooking the Caribbean (on yet another business trip), lots of things struck me and I wanted to post this.

First of all, my beloved Karamale took down all his great archived content from his now defunct old blog (curse him), the farewell post of which had this video. I used to visit the video there now and then when I needed a pick-me-up. So here it is, restored to the near-blogosphere.

And secondly, I think the out-of-control world can heed its advice right about now. In all its fabulous, gay living color glory.

[Gwen Verdon, dancing a piece choreographed by Bob Fosse. Music by UNK. Genius by the kids at Diamond Creative.]

No, I Can't.

I've deleted Andrew from my blogroll.

I just can't bear to look at his site anymore.

For years, lots of blogfriends have shit-talked about him and I always stood up for him. It isn't about partisanship or anything, because I never had a problem reading all points of view. But even I think he's gone completely nuts now, and it's painful and disappointing to see it on full display.

Oh well.

The Face of a Retarded Brat

From the John Waters classic, Female Trouble.