To be totally honest with you, right now I’m sitting in my
bedroom home office while my friends bring vintage soul music and hyper-cute drag performance to the Pride party of a newspaper company that let me go two weeks ago. It’s the anti-cute. I should be out celebrating the death of DOMA in the crush of the Castro and I’m in a huff, alone.
On the day of my dismissal, the company ousted my paper’s executive editor of 30 years with nary a severance package or grace period to save his email contacts. Then they lied to the staff about it, and told me that my section (I was the culture editor) was “superfluous.”
I’m a little sad that my hella cute and talented friends are throwing their promotional weight behind the forces of culture corporatization. I considered forbidding my roommate, in fact, from using my full-length mirror to check out his DJ outfit.
But now, staring at my blinking cursor, I realize again that there are few alternatives left to us, media-wise. Also, that tomorrow morning I’m launching something that maybe one day will compete with the boring institutions of old, money-grubbing white guys.
The fact that current journalistic institutions are fucked has been creeping up on me over the past years, at an intensified rate since the nearly 50-year-old independent alternative weekly newspaper that kickstarted my writing career was bought by a Canadian corporation that also dabbles in building $3 billion oil refineries outside of Vancouver. Our new overlords encouraged us to blog faster, to consider how my local style column struck potential advertisers that they had no clue how to sell to, and look the other way as they continued their (in-progress!) campaign to buy San Francisco’s media landscape.
AHDM4U was born when my friend, guru, music video director, and writing protégé Kelly Lovemonster and I took a trip to LA a few months ago. On that trip we witnessed the first SoCal implementation of a hella successful queer SF dance party. We scheduled a private shopping appointment with a ridiculously hip (it’d just hosted the filming of a Gucci Mane music video and houses a Japan-famous teacup poodle named Casio) clothing boutique in an abandoned Hollywood Boulevard department store. We swam in a swimming pool belonging to one of Lady Gaga’s producers. Lived honey.
We realized that we were members of an amazing 2013 culture that lives through, not despite of, the Internet, and is basically defying media’s attempts at profiting off it – hence the withering of traditional journalism and stuff. Fine, Vice. Whatever.
Kelly said we could make my dream publication, I said let’s go.
Listen cuz I want an excuse to do a video interview with queer Baltimore rapper DDM and then turn around and chat with Sarah “Sass” Biscarra-Dilley about pre-Christian queer Native culture (both in this first, modest issue.) I want Kelly to write party guides and craft the shit out of twerk videos and spread his light. I think the world wants us to do that too.
We’re not gonna be Vice yet. I’m hoping for a publication that’s a little more chill when it comes to the whole misogyny thing, tbh. But next year, I want to have the Pride party my friends whore themselves out for. And I want to have a place to hype the mega-talented revolutions of human beings that form my circle of friends-of-Facebook-friends.
For now, expect lil’ web issues to come out every other week (‘til we get more advertisers HEY). Soon, real cute merch. Later, parties and print and … well I dunno, it’ll sort itself out.
I’m ready, you ready?
Photo by Allen Jordan