Mood

Blog, meta, novella: the weight, writing

The project I’ve spent the last six months on, The Weight of the Impossible, deals with a fifteen year old protagonist, Zach, who is a junior level competitive figure skater. As all teens do, he has a very particular lexicon. I found a graphic (on Twitter, I believe) which lists Generation Z terminology and jokingly posted it to my Facebook, saying: “Lo, the language of my protagonist. Though he says ‘fuck’ a lot more.” I decided to go through that graphic and write the Zach version. For the lolz, as Millennials might say.

zach lingo

 

Bros

Blog, writing

Some Dude, reading my book: It’s so nice to read a book about dudes being close.

Me: Oh, thank you. I wanted to discuss emotional and sexual intimacy between men.

Some Dude: What’s better than this, two men being bros and getting boners around each other.

Me: Uh, yeah . . . ?

SD: Or two bros being bros while kissing. That’s so awesome. Bros can be bros and kiss.

Me: Uuh . . . ?

SD: And that whole chapter where the one dude gets on top of the other and there are orgasms? Totally bros just being bros and having a little fun.

Me: . . .

Me: One of them is gay and the other is questioning his sexuality. It says that in the text. Everything is an overt expression of sexual desire between them. The orgasm scene — they are having sex! Not “bro” sex! Sex-sex! They even argue about the definition of sex before agreeing what happened was sex! There are graphic descriptions of sex acts . . . They touch penises for god’s sake, do you need any more evidence to prove this wasn’t just bros being bros???

SD: But they were touching penises in a bro way.

Me: . . .

Me: SIGH.

SD: When the one guy starts doing the butt stuff to the other, that’s not sexual, it’s just bros being bros.


I wrote this because some people have the special ability to erase or ignore queer relationships and sexuality in literature and media, even when it is presented in a blatant, explicit manner.

HonorĂ© de Balzac’s Fifty Cups of Coffee – The New Yorker

Blog

No. 29: I drink fifty cups of coffee every day to be the founder of realism in European literature—but at what cost?

No. 30: Maybe someone else can be the pioneer of this movement.

No. 31: Yeah! Let’s call this hypothetical person something French, something French like “Flaubert.”

No. 32: Oh, I can’t take that chance, what if this “Flaubert” never exists?

FUCKING DYING OF LAUGHTER.  

HonorĂ© de Balzac’s Fifty Cups of Coffee – The New Yorker