Kaden, Roch

dearest ones, andy pink, live from nyc, in the borough on manhattan, i am still reeling with giddy happiness! —

i think kaden deserves some treatment: i dated kaden when i was in rochester, a place i don't write about all that much, not sure why, it was a glorious 8 years toiling away on my coursework and dissertation, and i will never forget the pod, with me and lisa and leanne, and my trips with peter and dinah, and dan humphrey, and pat, and cat zuromkis, lucy curzon — i love all of these people, working at eastman school of music at the university, teaching "technology, self, and society" and "sexuality, self, and society" — especially the latter, as those boys in the class were so curious and genuine, very different from the kids in "gay, lesbian, and queer culture" at berklee. anyway, kaden i dated for some time (open relationship, not that either of us cavorted with men outside of the university), but we went to muther's together a lot, i was by far the best dancer of the posse, and would drink modestly, like 3 rolling rocks a night, friday, saturday, and often sunday nights — muther's had drag shows 7 nights a week, but we limited our consumption and flirtation to the weekends, including sundays. once i gave a blowjob to the coat check clerk behind the fabrics. why didn't he become the love of my life?

kaden and i met at the university, first yr, we were in the colloquim together, with douglas, who drooled over kaden who was much better looking than me. kaden was impressed with my facility with theory (it was high scandal that i, at the age of 22, was the smartest kid in the program, vcs) — and we went to muther's and we would make out something fierce on the dance floor and in the smoking alcove outside. i never blew him at muther's — i'm sure i could have — but we did that at my apt (where we usually had sex), ice cold but we warmed each other with our bods. what did kaden and i do together? — mostly read and write, we did it together at the barnes in pittsford, i would drive him, as he did not have a car, and so most of our relationship was intellectual, he was smart, had gone to yale, and knew his stuff, though i was considered the sujet suppose savoir in our relationship. the sex was good, he was cut, and had beautiful tits, and a nice thick cock. we bonded over marxism.

dear kade,

you are likely still at u chicago (i should look you up), possibly in the comp lit dept, i'd like to see a photo of you. we had a fun time in rochester, i remember that you were a very direct person, explicit and literal, as am i, though i'm trained in the arts of subtley too, but we had a lot of fun, we were absurdist in sensibility (we drove all the way to connecticut for krispy kreme), and the sex was good, even if i didn't part with my anal virginity with you. i think our studies of marx were smart, and though you picked the wrong advisor, douglas, and did queer rather than deconstruction, i still loved you, though i warned you about douglas and his patchwork pants (and aids). i'm not sure why it didn't work out with us for longer, i left first for montreal, and you could have followed me, but you stayed and got a better job than i ever could: u chicago. that's a fine job. you were also better at languages than i ever was (except english, which i am exquisitely talented in), and so comp lit makes sense. your diss — queer renoir — was weird, i only skimmed it, but i'm glad douglas liked it as he sniffed around and determined who he liked by the color of their penis. in the end we were not meant to be — i think grad school boyfriend are intended to depart from each other, if only because one gets a job at x and the other at y. i'm okay happy at snhu right now, though i hope to move back to suffolk if they will have me; i think emerson is out of reach. i wish you the best, i was certainly in love with you (that happened quickly, in seminar), but i always fall in love, i'm a lover and a trouboudar, and there's really no changing that. xoxo love michael

the pick below is a hard won drawing i did of me and rich. he is shorter than me (by like two feet), so i hope he doesn't mind the rendition that i have presented to him. if it is not rich, or if he has become sick and tired, or defensive about my lovestruck awe of him, then so be it: i miss you already.

andy pink, writing like he's meant to write,

peace, and love: michael

me and rich laying down, horizontally, on top of each other, as stick figures, on an orange folder, marked by a sharpie