an excerpt from my memoir “The Gay Road Less Traveled”
New Orleans 1997
Dear Diary, we lost Princess Diana this year. At Halloween, lots of the drag queens in New Orleans honored her by dressing up as the beloved princess, that’s what I initially thought, but as I looked closer at their outfits, all of them had blood and tire tracks on their dresses, and one queen had a steering wheel around her neck!
In the beginning there was House music
And House music had its own groove
And from this groove came the groove of all grooves
When one day some DJ’s declared
“Let this House be progressive”
And progressive house was born
“I remember she was crazy stupid thick”
“I don’t recall”
Sir, you cannot say No to the question until it’s been asked
Didn’t you serve 10 months in Riker’s Island in 2010? “I don’t recall”
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Augusten Burroughs, authors, book reviews, books, boston terrier, buy John's book, cute, dating, David Sedaris, dogs, ebook, essays, french bulldog, gay, LGBT, Mateo L'artiste, memoirs, new orleans, pets, queer, relationships, sex, short stories, writers
The Gay Road Less Traveled – John Jernigan
$3.99 on Kindle, the Kindle app is free for any cell phone
Artwork by Mateo L’Artiste, models Possum the Boston Terrier and Cricket the French Bulldog
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Artwork by Mateo L’Artiste , from my book The Gay Road Less Traveled – John Jernigan $3.99 on Kindle…the Kindle app is free for any smart phone by the way
@thejohnjernigan, Adele, breakups, cute, dating, depression, dogs, french bulldog, gay, heartache, LGBT, loneliness, love, Mobile, new orleans, Pensacola, pets, queer, relationships, sadness, sex, Someone Like You, St. Petersburg, Tampa Bay, true love
I used to listen to this song and cry and feel sorry for myself. Two years have passed since my breakup. I still haven’t found anyone like him, I still love him, and I still have the occasional cry for him. See the standing ovation for Adele at the end of this awesome performance.
@thejohnjernigan, atlanta, buy John's book $3.99 on Amazon, dating, funny, gay, LGBT, Life, Looking Hbo, NCIS New Orleans, new orleans, queer, relationships, San Francisco, Scott Bakula, sex, tampa, the Castro
@thejohnjernigan, atlanta, Blue Savannah Erasure, dating, depression, gay, LGBT, Life, loneliness, love, new orleans, Nightswimming REM, perspective, point of view, relationships, sex, Somebody's Baby Jackson Browne, St. Petersburg, tampa, the 80's
I have failed again at finding someone, my old friend’s depression and pessimism are my constant companions, I am often sad and lonely, maybe it’s time for me to fly…maybe I should move back to Atlanta. I am worried that I will always be alone.
“Well, just – a look at that girl with the lights comin’ up in her eyes.
She’s got to be somebody’s baby.
She must be somebody’s baby.
All the guys on the corner stand back and let her walk on by.
She’s got to be somebody’s baby.
She must be somebody’s baby.
She’s got to be somebody’s baby.
She’s so fine.”
“Somewhere ‘cross the desert
Sometime in the early hours
To the orange side
Through the clouds and thunder
My home is where the heart is
Sweet to surrender to you only
I send my love to you.”
remembering that night
September’s coming soon
I’m pining for the moon
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit around the fairest sun?
The bright tide forever drawn
Could not describe nightswimming”
@thejohnjernigan, boston terrier, buy John's book $3.99, daddyhunt, dating, dogs, french bulldog, french quarter, gay, gay dating, LGBT, lifestyle, new orleans, pets, queer, relationships, sex, silverdaddies, St. Petersburg, tampa, Tampa Bay, Ybor City
Do I have the energy and optimism to get ready and cross the bridge into Ybor City this beautiful spring night? Probably not, my future ex-husband isn’t likely to be there anyway 😦 Instead I’ll probably just curl up on the couch with my true loves, Cricket and Squeak.
I live on Central Ave. in St. Petersburg. St. Pete is actually the 4th largest city in Florida, between Tampa and Orlando. You can’t tell that from the queer nightlife. There is really only one gay club here, Georgie’s, and it’s very 1990’s. I can walk to Georgie’s from my apartment, and have a few times, but it’s just not cute. The problem with venturing into Ybor is that I have to be drunk/tipsy to deal with the ugliness, and then I’m faced with drunk driving over the bridge at 3 a.m. or hooking up with some random vodka-goggles dude…that ain’t cool, man.
Ybor City Chamber of Commerce description:
“Known as Tampa’s Latin Quarter for over a century, Ybor City is an exotic blend of aromas, flavors, sights and sounds. From the scent of roasting Cuban coffee early in the morning to the rhythms of Latin music late into the night, Ybor is a feast for the senses.
Choose from a variety of cuisine – Spanish, Cuban, Italian, Greek and French – just by strolling down La Setima, the main street of the Historic District. Share authentic tapas and a pitcher of Spanish sangria in a café atmosphere reminiscent of a Mediterranean village.
Browse eclectic shops and art galleries or visit one of the museums. See a “hand-rolled cigar” being made or just relax and “people watch” with a cup of Ybor’s famous cafe con leche.
Listen to the music of the night – jazz, blues, salsa, reggae and even hip-hop emanate from a selection of pubs, patio bars and nightclubs. Ybor is alive with a variety of entertainment that makes it one of Florida’s top-ranked nightspots.
Founded by Vicente Martinez-Ybor as a cigar-manufacturing center, Ybor City today is one of only two National Historic Landmark Districts in Florida. Red brick buildings, wrought iron balconies and narrow brick streets give it an old-world charm that is a refreshing change of pace from the beach and the mall.”
Oh it’s an exotic blend of aromas all right. Having lived in New Orleans, I can say Ybor ain’t no French Quarter. It is fairly dirty and sleazy and dangerous, in parts, but that old Nawlins magic ain’t happenin.’ Oh jeez, maybe I’ll get on the interwebs and find a husband on daddyhunt or silverdaddies 🙂 (JK)
JK: just kidding for older folks
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Christopher is Anne’s darling gay son. He has become an accomplished author in the past decade. Light Before Day is my favorite of his books, but all six of his offerings are really good, high quality reads. By the age of 30, Christopher Rice had published four New York Times bestselling thrillers, received a Lambda Literary Award and been declared one of People Magazine’s Sexiest Men Alive. His first supernatural thriller, THE HEAVENS RISE, was nominated for a Bram Stoker Award. His first novel, A DENSITY OF SOULS, was published when he was just 22. The controversial bestseller was greeted with a landslide of media attention, much of it due the fact that Rice’s mother is a legendary vampire chronicler who shares his last name. He served as a contributing columnist to The Advocate for many years and his additional criticisms and witticisms have been featured in The Washington Post, Salon.com, The Daily Beast and his own Facebook page, which currently hails over 140,000 subscribers. The Hetrick Martin Institute honored Rice with an Emery Award for his activism on behalf of LGBT youth, and the New York City Public Advocate’s Office invited him to be their keynote speaker during their annual Gay Pride celebration.
“Adam Murphy, a twenty-five-year-old journalist, is chasing a career-making story of a serial killer preying on young gay men in West Hollywood when he is abruptly fired by the magazine that employs him. He soon learns his former lover has disappeared, but what he’s about to uncover is far more diabolical than he could ever have imagined. Light Before Day is a riveting and complex mystery set against the gothic landscape that Rice has made his own.”
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The full moon, tides, whatever have me feeling a certain kind of way. I settle in on the couch and catch up on my shows, watching Scandal, the Good Wife, Suits, Justified, 2 Broke Girls, Mystery Diners, and the Goldbergs, intermittently crying. I am painfully aware that instead of living my life to the fullest, I have my adventures and live vicariously through my television, a sad imitation of life.
I like some friends’ posts on facebook, and friend request a few people. I play Candy Crush and Triviador. I watch some youtube videos of French bulldog and Boston terrier puppies. I make an attempt to finish reading MaddAddam, but my mind is racing, cycling, restlessly pessimistic.
I go back to facebook. I see that Mike J, who I briefly loved/thought I loved when I was very young, is in a relationship. I see that Don (who I had a crush on for years when I lived in Pensacola, that he never knew about, and actually never really met me) is in a relationship. I realize that there are probably a dozen or so good quality men that I am friends with on facebook, who I would love to explore a relationship with. There are honestly probably 50 or more distinguished gentleman out in the world that I have squandered my chances with, either by sleeping with them once or just not being mature or patient enough or too ADD to give love time to bloom? (bloom sounds corny, but yeah bloom).
I have a profile on a few of the dating websites, but have never had any luck there. A few different Saturday nights I have had a few drinks and walked to Georgie’s in search of Mr. Right…who definitely wasn’t there. Twice I have braved the bridge and gone hunting in Ybor (dangerous as I need some alcohol in me to be comfortable in a club) driving back at 4 a.m., unsuccessful, frustrated, and certain to get a DUI if pulled over.
I have the capacity to love and I am so so tired of being lonely. I am ready for my Knight in Shining Armor, please. I want to love again, to find my special someone, but it’s getting late, and the lights are starting to dim on my dreams.
Squeak is in dreamland, yelping and twitching. Careful not to wake the snoring 30-pound bulldog on my stomach, I scoot down the couch to her, rubbing her belly and calming her down. I whisper to her that everything will be okay, that we’re safe, that we’ll be fine…though I am no longer sure that is true.
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Bianca was New Orleans royalty when I lived there. Now she’s taken over the Big Apple. She’s funny as shit, irreverent, sharp tongued, but ALL TEA NO SHADE…she’s not a bitch, instead a likable, talented, smart and youthful (ish) lady. She is a role model to young whatever ethnicity she is? drag queens everywhere. Bianca is on the new season of Rupaul’s Drag Race, and won the first challenge already! Condragulations, I hope you win it all, 504 ya heard?
an excerpt from my book, available on Amazon for $3.99:
There are a few things that hustlers invariably do whilst on the stroll. Obviously all the strippers at the Corner Pocket or insert gay go-go bar name here schedule “dates” with admirers after work, and I always knew that. My decidedly sleazy friend Dale educated me on how to spot a hustler, as he quite often used their services when vacationing in the Big Easy. #1) The easiest way to spot a hustler is whenever you’re looking at them, they’re looking right back at you, always. That eye contact and nod and smile can all seal the deal. Let me see, let me see, well shit, John you sure were making hella eye contact and nodding and smiling like a hooker, now weren’t you? #2) Hustlers work all up and down Bourbon, discreetly advertising their wares and attempting to catch a man, in a gay club or straight club, standing on a corner, wherever. Once they’ve caught a man’s eye, they will invariably leave that establishment and head down into the seedy gay part of the quarter, maybe Lafitte’s, oh, that’s where I led Charles. #3) A hustler’s chest and stomach will almost always be visible, he will be shirtless or something, a walking advertisement for product. This tell is irrelevant to my pickup, I would never take my shirt off, just paying the how-to-pick-up-a-hustler educational tutorial forward, I’m altruistic like that.
an excerpt from John’s book, The Gay Road Less Traveled, available on Amazon for $3.99.
I’m learning as I go as to how the bathhouse works, while trippin’ real real hard. We pay $17 each to enter. What is expected and normal is to rent a locker for $10. You put all your clothes in this locker and walk around naked, in a towel. There are also little rooms for rent ($25) that lock, with little half bed/bench combos. Kevin & Chris pay for their lockers and are given keys. The attendant asks for my $10. I decline. The attendant says I have to get a locker, where else am I going to put my clothes? I primly tell him that I’m keeping my clothes on. I distinctly remember the aura and color of red coming off of this guy as he argued with me. Chris tells the attendant he is sure once I get inside I will want to come back out and get a locker. Now I had dropped acid a good 20 times in my life, but never like this. Not sure if it was because I was tired after the long weekend, or because it was 2 hits, or maybe the acid was industrial strength, but I proceed to have a kind of out-of-body experience.
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One of my greatest loves, Nina Simone. Favorite of her songs include Sinnerman, Lilac Wine, Ain’t Got No/ I Got Life, Feeling Good, My Baby Just Cares for Me, Mississippi Goddam, I Put a Spell On You, Please Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood and Sugar in My Bowl (which I still want).
Nina Simone (February 21, 1933 – April 21, 2003) was an American singer, songwriter, pianist, arranger, and civil rights activist widely associated with jazz music. Simone aspired to become a classical pianist while working in a broad range of styles including classical, jazz, blues, folk, R&B, gospel, and pop.Her musical style arose from a fusion of gospel and pop songs with classical music, in particular with influences from her first inspiration, Johann Sebastian Bach and accompanied with her expressive jazz-like singing in her characteristic contralto.
A civil rights message was standard in Simone’s recording repertoire, becoming a part of her live performances. Simone performed and spoke at many civil rights meetings, such as at the Selma to Montgomery marches.
Simone’s bearing and stage presence earned her the title “High Priestess of Soul.” She was a piano player, singer, and performer, “separately and simultaneously”. On stage, Simone moved from gospel to blues, jazz, and folk, to numbers with European classical styling, and Bach-style fugal counterpoint.
An excerpt from my book, The Gay Road Less Traveled, available on Amazon’s Kindle.
Johnny wakes up and runs to the living room to see his gifts. The entire couch is covered with toys, there are some more on the floor and he has a huge stocking full of candy. He sees Stretch Armstrong and his nemesis, Stretch Monster, a big Godzilla-like monster, the Millennium Falcon, the Death Star, every Star Wars figure out, a Rubik’s cube, a Magna Doodle, a Sony Walkman, a Legoland space ship, all of the Superfriends, the Hall of Justice and the Legion of Doom, G.I. Joe, and of course Superman, Batman, Spiderman, Aquaman and Shazam underoos. Johnny looks at all of his presents, not realizing his mother makes $6000 a year as a teacher’s aide, that his grandparents are on a fixed income or that there is approximately $400 worth of toys in front of him. Johnny doesn’t realize how much he will cherish these toys in the next year (Stretch was his constant companion, until he starting leaking gross gel from his stomach, and his life-long loves of R2D2 and Chewbacca were born on this early morning). Like the honey badger, Johnny don’t care. He looks at all of his toys and candy, with his mother and Granny standing there all happy and proud, and says “This is it? This is all I get?” Johnny stamps his feet and shakes his head, No, crosses his arms and starts to whine about the unfairness of it all.
Johnny’s mother starts to cry. Johnny’s Granny curses, then goes and smokes one of his grandfather’s cigarettes on the back porch, muttering something about a “bag of switches.” Johnny settles in to play with all of his fantastic toys, clueless, oblivious, spoiled rotten and ruint, while his mother cries and his Granny talks herself down from committing some child abuse.