Category Archives: alchemy of emoshunz

Everytime your name was brought up, I would act all nonchalant in front of an audience

I’m a champ at frontin’. Between me and my circle of bitchin’ friends, you’d think females have gotten past that pathetic thing called feelings, attachment, and hurtin’ [wanna check into the heartbreak hotel, sorry we’re closed]. Posing is an art, damn. Sometimes even I’m shocked when one of my friends starts a minor breakdown [except for JY, obvs, because let’s be serious, that act only fools fluffy haired music nerds who dangle their legs over the L train platform at Bedford Ave.]. Obviously, we also totally judge those girls who are constant MESSES over their emotional melodrama.

Is there a medium to this? Since I think both extremes are kinda taboo. How does one strike a balance between exploding with emotions left and right and burying all skeletons beneath a pristine cover of  charm and wit?

I remember maybe four years ago, this dude that I was dating told me that he  didn’t think I’d be phased by anything. Of course, at the time, I was all like, you damn skippy, son. You ain’t shit, now rub my belly. And then of course I was phased when we stopped talkin’ and whatnot. Actually, I was major upset; admitting this years later is the maturation of Jaezeezy.



C’est alors que je me couche
Pour te prendre dans un rêve,
Mais un autre cauchemar surgit
Qui a une queue et une tête,
Quelque chose comme la vie
Et c’est là que tu finis
De me détruire.

jolie, c’est tout

If you’re scared…just say you’re scared.

“I read your column every Sunday when it comes out. I can’t wait for your book to come out” – Brown Sugar aka most quotable movie ever made. After Clueless.

BASICALLY, my faggotry in a nutshell. Yes. Defining.

Have you ever

been on an extended flight where your mind is just BRIMMING with thoughts on your trip and life in general, but you couldn’t write it down because your fountain pen has run out of ink and when the kind stranger next to you offers you a pen, you’re too flustered to be a big homo with your leatherbound journal, because he’s like a totally suave italian gentleman whose musky scent was distracting you from having an intelligent thought, so instead you fill out the customs form and promptly return the pen and now, because you’ve been sick and jetlagged, you are scrambling to gather any remaining ideas in your head into a post, but also regretting cutting down the convo with handsome stranger because you were feeling about as sexy as a walrus who’s just been shot and feeling like a tool on both counts.

anyway, I’m back.

“How could you be constantly synthesizing an orgasm based on dozens of shots? You’re looking for the one photo out of 100 you swear is going to be the one you finish to, and you still don’t finish. Twenty seconds ago you thought that photo was the hottest thing you ever saw, but you throw it back and continue your shot hunt and continue to make yourself late for work. How does that not affect the psychology of having a relationship with somebody? It’s got to.”

This reminds me of someone I know.

“When I meet somebody, I’m in a situation in which I can’t run it because another person is involved. That means letting someone else talk, not waiting for them to remind you of something interesting you had in mind. What that explains is that I’m more comfortable in my imagination than I am in actual human discovery.”

This reminds me of me.