Gavin wrote to me last week and said that he wanted me to treat SBTVC like my diary. However, I haven’t kept a diary for years, for a vast collection of mostly sordid reasons.
When I was 15, I burned my entire lot of diaries in the fireplace in a dramatic display to “show my at the time boyfriend (who was 19) that my past didn’t matter to me, and all we had was our future,” which was not only certainly a line from at least one after-school special or made-for-TV movie, it was a pack of lies. The truth was, I had been fooling around with assorted prepubescent boys which I’d detailed in my diary, and I didn’t want him to find out.
And that leads us back to why I stopped keeping diaries. I stopped because I felt that I couldn’t be completely honest, even in in a diary, because I was afraid that someone would read it and hold me accountable for my thoughts or actions. Now that I’m older, I just treat the world and especially the stage as my diary (and I have a therapist), which makes diaries moot.
Most of my songs and jokes are about sex, cunnilingus, crotch melt, assholes (literal and metaphorical ones), death, and vomit because those are the nuggets of life that keep me up at night, wishing I had a diary to write about them in. Since I’m an artistic mess and I have to emote, I do it through music, and with humor, or something like it, whenever possible. I also love to get drunk and talk really deep and serious shit at parties with complete randos. The man I’m currently with is a much more private and sensitive person than I am, so I strive to protect him to a certain extent, but I’d love to talk about our personal life. Honestly, though, it’s not super interesting. We have sex about 1-3 times per week, depending on our work schedules. My favorite position is missionary, his is with me straddling him—what do they call that—cowgirl? I have a pretty stellar set of boobies, and his ass is so perfect, I’d eat an ice-cream sundae out of the crack of it, if he’d only let me.
See, I’m practically falling asleep over here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re already over at Gawker or TeeShirtHell or whatever you procrastinate with. Not to mention, if he read this, he’d be fucking livid. I think we have a pretty good understanding of each other, though. He realizes that there are sacrifices to be made for dating a hot, older chick with boundary issues, and I realize that there are sacrifices to be made for being in a committed relationship with a sexy, young, sensitive man.
So, I’ll try, Gavin, to make SBTVC a bit more of a “diary” for myself, but honestly, the diary-worthy shit that I do, I can’t write about, because it’d leave me in ruin. And the good shit I do isn’t what your readers want to read about. I also work with kids, so I can’t be too expressive because that scares some parents, and I honestly don’t enjoy scaring people. I more like giving them a little entertaining jolt. They’ll read this and report me to the president. If you or anyone wants to see me at my most vulnerable and honest, spilling my inner most emotion drippings, join me in therapy or catch me onstage.
Or maybe I’ll start a show where people must come onstage and tell the most honest, horrific and true, depressing and demented shit ever. Then afterwards, I’ll give them an ice-cream sandwich and a hug.