I’m not doing a recap on the year. You lived through 2017. You already know what’s up. Let’s move right along.
I did take a chance and submitted my work into a (queer) magazine with hopes of getting things published. Guess who the fuck got his first rejection letter? Yuuup.
I don’t get em’ often, so anytime I do get one the event becomes a national (and mostly personal) travesty.
I’m not gonna be that sour loser who just believes his work is the best. I think “best” is entirely relative. Here’s what I know:
I know I love what I do, and after the first night of receiving the rejection letter I stayed up and plotted new ways to do the work that I know I love doing.
I didn’t “come out” so that I could hold hands with some boy who didn’t love me or himself. Fuck that shit.
I came out and left the world I knew so I could do this work I couldn’t let the thick layer of shame prevail when I wrote about life and sexuality. I’ve been writing about love and life and sex and all those things in between since 2011, and I had been writing for hobby years before that.
I love creating shit that is queer, and brown, and sexual, and thoughtful, and funny, and real, even if it’s absolutely wrong. People don’t do real shit anymore. Some mornings I’m up before the sun, designing new ways to do the work I love. I’m studying as many masters as I can, ingesting as many books, talks, podcasts and etc. as time allows.
I love the work I get to do with my time alive.
So when failure hit, it shook me all the way the fuck up.
I skipped sleeping. I hardly ate. I’m that kind of crazy.
A friend of mine insisted I come out to visit her in Colorado.
I went to unclog, if you will. See some mountains, breath some rarefied air. Didn’t smoke legalized marijuana. I don’t smoke. Visited book stores. Reminded myself the world is absolutely mesmerizing as it is. I am too. I drank a bunch. I threw up a dozen times on the flight back. It was excellent.
I have returned, and I look forward to putting out even more work and finding even more ways to do work that I thoroughly enjoy.
I appreciate all the folks who keep up with (or accidentally stumble into) the work I produce. I hope everyone manages to find work in this life that they are willing to fail at and still show up to do the next morning.
It might not be glamorous, but it’s real. May you all go do some real shit.