I became mesmerized by the album cover — a masterpiece right out of Microsoft Paint. The art style made me feel like Sidney Gish got me without even having listened to any other song. From that point on, No Dogs Allowed was in my ears at all times.
Everybody’s coming out is different. Queer realization can hit you like a bus or creep up over time — maybe even a combination of both. There is no right way to go about it.
After my dad left, my mom couldn’t listen to love songs, especially sad ones. One that always got to her was “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac, and for the longest time I couldn’t understand why. But I think I get it now.
Sweet hummingbird, you are free — and so is he. Maybe there are days when you look at the beautiful artifacts of your love, cast in illusions. You observe the convictions immortalized on parchment, now lost to time. You observe them once more before you seal them into a box with a key — and then you don’t observe anymore. You set flight.
I like being out at night. I like the way buildings look when they’re empty, and I like to see which windows are still lit up. I like lying in the middle of the sidewalk and listening to music. I like seeing which doors are still unlocked, and I like to look inside. I like who I am at night, when no one is around to see.
You teach me that some love stories are viscerally beautiful up until the very moment of their end, but that does not mean they are meant to last. They are meant to be experienced only as a precursor to the other things life has in store for us.