Back in 1995, when I first signed up for AOL, checking my inbox made me happy as a kid on Christmas morning.

“You’ve got mail!”

Those three little words were enough to make my day. Email was exciting. It was fast. It was new. Every message felt like someone had taken a moment out of their day to say, “Hey...I was thinking about you!”

Fast forward thirty years. After one too many corporate jobs and more than half a lifetime of emails, opening my inbox sometimes feels about as fun as cleaning a public restroom.

So many sales, scams, and spams. Somewhere along the way, the joy disappeared.

Lately, I’ve caught myself heading down the same road with Substack.

When I first joined and started posting on Substack in 2024, I subscribed to everyone who seemed remotely interesting. Friends. Artists. Historians. Journalists. Photographers. Smart people. Funny people. Thoughtful people.

At first, it was wonderful.

Then my reading list became...more aspirational than realistic.

Before long, I found myself feeling guilty for not keeping up. I’d made a rookie mistake. I’d turned Substack into homework. Somewhere along the way, I confused “I get to read this” with “I have to read this.”

Those are two very different things.

Every newsletter in my inbox represents someone who spent their talent and time to make something worth sharing. I want to read it because I’m genuinely interested, not because I feel guilty if I don’t.

A few years ago, productivity gurus couldn’t stop talking about “Inbox Zero.” Despite the name, it was never really about having zero emails. It was about reclaiming your attention from the endless stream of incoming stuff.

I think the same idea applies to Substack.

I don’t need to get to “Inbox Zero.” At this point in my life, I’d settle for “Inbox Sane.”

I’m not trying to subscribe to every brilliant creator on the platform. There are simply too many brilliant writers here for that. Personally, I’m trying to subscribe to enough people that I can actually appreciate what they’re creating.

So I’ve started pruning my subscriptions, and I’ll probably keep pruning.

• Not because the writing isn’t good.

• Not because I don’t respect the author.

• Simply because not every newsletter is meant for me.

There’s a huge difference.

I’d rather eagerly read twenty newsletters than dutifully skim a hundred. I’d rather leave a thoughtful comment because I genuinely have something to say instead of clicking the little heart out of guilt.

So if I quietly disappear from your subscriber list one day, please don’t take it personally.

• I’m not unsubscribing because your work isn’t worth reading.

• I’m unsubscribing because it is.

• I’d rather give twenty writers my full attention than a hundred writers a guilty skim.

Life is too short to turn joy into obligation.

More than thirty years after getting my first email, I’ve realized I’m not chasing an empty inbox. I’m chasing the feeling I had when AOL announced, “You’ve got mail!”

That’s how I want opening Substack to feel. Today and always…

Keep calm and read on!
Clint 🌈✌️

P.S. If you'd like to start fresh with your Substack inbox, I recommend this Reddit thread, which explains how to clear out all those old posts and declutter your archive.

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-16 = Barbara Stanwyck (1907-1990) = American actor, model, and dancer 🌈

• 07-16 = Chad Griffin (1973- ) = American political strategist 🌈

• 07-16 = Reinaldo Arenas (1943-1990) = Cuban poet, novelist, and playwright 🌈

• 07-16 = Tony Kushner (1956- ) = American playwright and screenwriter 🌈

MAN CRUSHES OF THE DAY

“Trees have a secret life that is only revealed to those willing to climb them.”
Reinaldo Arenas

“I love reading; it’s a great way to avoid writing.”
Tony Kushner

I've always loved NPR's Tiny Desk Concerts series.

There's something deeply satisfying about watching world-class musical artists create something magical behind a small, ordinary desk. They don't need a sprawling stage, elaborate lighting, or a million-dollar production to make something worth seeing and hearing.

It got me wondering: how much desk do I actually need? Apparently...not much.

Yesterday, I traded my bigger IKEA "desk" (which was just a 47” x 23” tabletop on a pair of adjustable legs) for something much smaller. My new tiny desk measures approximately 32” wide, 17” deep, and 29” high, but it fits the space perfectly.

Tucked into a corner of my little garage studio apartment overlooking the backyard, my new tiny desk gets less direct sunlight and offers fewer visual distractions, making it a surprisingly great place to settle in and focus.

As an added bonus, its small footprint is changing the form and function of the room.

After shuffling a few things around, I’ll be able to bring my digital piano back into the studio. I’ve missed having it nearby, and soon it’ll be within arm’s reach whenever the mood strikes to practice a few scales, learn a new song, or just bang out a handful of chords between projects.

The tiny desk reminds me that bigger isn’t always better. I don’t need a giant desk to get things done anymore. My new one has just enough room for my laptop, an external monitor, Bluetooth speakers, a webcam, a fan, an iPhone/Apple Watch charger, and a handful of tchotchkes that remind me of my favorite people and places.

That’s all I really need.

By taking up less space, my tiny desk is giving me more room to live, create, and enjoy the rest of my small-but-mighty home.

It’s funny how I spend so much of my life chasing more when sometimes what I really need is less.

• Less desk.

• Less clutter.

• Less stuff competing for my attention.

Turns out, just like those Tiny Desk Concerts, I don't need a lot of space to be creative and make something meaningful.

Keep calm and make it work!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-15 = Allison Brewer (1954- ) = Canadian activist and politician 🌈

• 07-15 = David Cicilline (1961- ) = American lawyer and politician 🌈

• 07-15 = Gavin Maxwell (1914-1969) = Scottish naturalist and author 🌈

• 07-15 = Jody Dobrowski (1981-2005) = British hate-crime victim 🌈

• 07-15 = Michael Lassell (1947- ) = American writer, editor and poet 🌈

• 07-15 = Olly Alexander (1990- ) = British singer 🌈

• 07-15 = Jim Rash (1971- ) = American actor, comedian, and filmmaker 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“There’s always something exciting about small change.”
Jim Rash

One of the more disappointing discoveries I’ve made since crawling out of my hermit cave and becoming a reasonably well-adjusted social butterfly is this: The vast majority of gay guys are flaky as fuck. Especially those living in Los Angeles County.

They're not necessarily evil or malicious. But far too many seem utterly incapable of making plans...or keeping them.

Last night, I had dinner plans with someone I'd been looking forward to meeting. We'd been chatting for about a week. I texted to confirm the night before, and he even gave me a detailed play-by-play of his day.

“I’ll text you when I get home.”

And then...absolutely fucking nothing.

• No text.

• No call.

• No carrier pigeon.

• No smoke signal.

Here's the thing: it wasn't the canceled plans that irritated me. Shit happens. We've all had to bail on something. It was the complete lack of communication.

Last time I checked, “Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule?” takes about ten seconds to type.

A few weeks ago, several old friends pulled the exact same stunt and earned themselves a one-way ticket to what I not-so-lovingly call “Friend Purgatory.” They are now one flake away from becoming people I used to know.

I've simply reached the age where I don't have the patience or time for chronic flakes.

Yes, life happens. Cars break down. Work runs late. People get sick. Dogs eat your homework. Fine. Whatever.

But we also live in an age where you can order dinner, summon a stranger to drive you across town, Venmo your roommate, stream drag queens lip-syncing for their lives, and argue with someone in Australia before you've even brushed your teeth.

You’re telling me you couldn’t send a text? Gurrrrl, please shut the fuck up.

What really fries my grits is when people pop back up acting like nothing happened.

“Hey! What’s up?” Oh, what’s up is you flaked, motherfucker.

And yes, for the record, I’m keeping score. Not because I’m looking for reasons to cut people out of my life. But because I’m looking for reasons to keep them in it.

Reliability matters.
Showing up matters.
Respecting another person’s time matters.

When someone disappears without a word, they're telling me everything I need to know. They're telling me my time isn't as valuable as theirs. And they're telling me they're a fucking rude asshole. No ifs, ands, or buttheads.

We’re not talking about forgetfulness. We’re talking about disrespect.

Ironically, life was easier when I was agoraphobic.

I wasn't exactly living my best life, but at least I showed up for myself. Even when I was anxious, depressed, and hiding from the world, I knew I always would be there.

Now that I'm happier than I've been in years and actually making the effort to rebuild a social life, I have zero interest in chasing people who treat plans like vague suggestions while they wait to see if something better comes along.

Years ago, I said something to an ex-boyfriend who had a habit of shutting down whenever conflict reared its ugly head: “I can be alone all by myself.” It still holds true.

As an only child, I earned a PhD in entertaining myself long before smartphones existed. Solitude and I go way back.

I don’t need people in my life.
I choose to have people in my life.

But if showing up—or simply sending a damn text—is too much to ask, then I'll happily spend my evening homo alono with a good meal, a good movie, and my own delightful company.

Because I can waste my time all by myself.
Because I want to focus on the good guys.

Keep calm and be impeccable with your word, y’all!
Clint 🌈✌️

NEW + NOW SHOWING

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-14 = Arthur Laurents (1917-2011) = American filmmaker and playwright 🌈

• 07-14 = Charles Pierce (1926-1999) = American female impersonator 🌈

• 07-14 = Ferdinando II de’ Medici (1610-1670) = Italian aristocrat 🌈

• 07-14 = Graham Ackerman (1983- ) = American gymnast 🌈

• 07-14 = Jane Lynch (1960- ) = American actor 🌈

• 07-14 = Jim French (1932-2017) = American photographer (Colt Studio) 🌈

• 07-14 = Poliziano (1454-1494) = Italian scholar and poet 🌈

• 07-14 = Randy Boissonnault (1970- ) = Canadian politician 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“Truth is like fire; to tell the truth means to glow and burn”
Gustav Klimt

Before I discovered Substack, I started on YouTube.

Back then, the COLLIDE PRESS channel was mostly a place to promote art, designs, and merch created by me and the original COLLIDE PRESS crew.

Over time, something unexpected happened: I found myself drawn to making montages, mostly featuring vintage photographs of men.

All kinds of men. All kinds of photographs.

To me, they weren’t (and aren’t) just slideshows set to music. They were (and are) meditations on manhood and masculinity. On beauty, strength, vulnerability, friendship, identity, history, and all the messy things that come with being human.

Every montage is a way of preserving forgotten images while silently asking bigger questions about who we are and how we see one another.

Unfortunately, YouTube is a tricky place to post the kind of work I like to make.

The platform has never seemed to mind “The Male Gaze” when it’s directed at women. But “The Male Gayze” directed at men? That’s a whole other can of worms. And snakes.

Not long after my channel was monetized, I collected a trio of warnings and strikes for allegedly posting “sexually gratifying” content. The punishment left me unable to upload for more than a month. Because apparently vintage photographs of men on the internet is a threat to civilization.

And when YouTube isn’t policing bodies, it’s finding new and exciting ways to create headaches over licensed music and public domain recordings.

The fuckery finally convinced me it was time to pivot.

That pivot led me to Substack.

Looking back, it was one of the best creative decisions I’ve ever made. This community has been more welcoming, more thoughtful, and more supportive than I ever expected. So many of you made the journey with me, and I’m grateful every single day that you did.

Since then, I’ve grown as both a creative and a human being.

My life isn’t consumed by algorithms, upload schedules, and analytics anymore. I’ve built friendships. I’ve rediscovered hobbies. I’ve gotten out of the house. I’ve spent more time making art, writing, exploring, and simply living.

Honestly, I’m happier than I’ve been in a very long time. Healthier is in progress too.

But after doing a little self-inventory recently, I realized something.

The montages that built this community deserve more of my attention again.

So here’s my public promise: I’m rededicating myself to making more montages.

• For Substack.

• For YouTube.

• For you.

• For me.

Now, before anyone panics, no, I’m not returning to the near-daily upload schedule that nearly turned my brain into mush. That pace simply isn’t sustainable, and I have no interest in burning myself out all over again.

The goal isn’t more for the sake of more.
The goal is to make better work, more consistently.

Because I still love these forgotten photographs. I still love the stories they quietly carry. And I still believe that, paired with the right music, they can say something meaningful about what it means to be a man.

If you’ve been here since the YouTube days, thank you for sticking around.

If you found me through Substack, welcome aboard.

And if you enjoy my work, I would be honored if you’d share it, subscribe if you aren’t already, or consider supporting it however/if you’re able.

• Every share helps.

• Every subscriber matters.

• Every patron makes my creative life a little more possible.

I count my lucky stars that a bunch of vintage photographs, some music, a stubborn creative streak, and several algorithms or recommendations brought all of us together.

When I first started, I thought I was just making slideshow videos. Little did I know, I was building the foundation for a community. This community.

Thank you for being a friend, subscriber, and/or patron!
Clint 🌈✌️

P.S. I spent the weekend doing a little virtual housecleaning on both my Substack and YouTube channel. I tidied things up, pruned a few videos, and made it a little easier to explore. Feel free to have a look around at your leisure….

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-13 = Danitra Vance (1954-1994) = American comedian and actor 🌈

• 07-13 = Danny Lockin (1943-1977) = American actor and dancer 🌈

• 07-13 = Joan E. Biren (1944- ) = American photographer and filmmaker 🌈

• 07-13 = Mary Emma Woolley (1863-1947) = American educator 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“It's a privilege to be able to be involved with people as talented as the people I've had the luck to work with, and it's just been a great experience for me, and I'm glad that so many of the films I've had the luck to do were films that could be enjoyed by families together.”
Harrison Ford

I don’t usually celebrate when someone dies.

Death is the great equalizer. Rich or poor, asshole or saint, every one of us eventually reaches the same finish line.

But every so often, someone lives a life that leaves the world undeniably worse than they found it. When they go, I don't mourn their demise.

To me, Lindsey "Ladybug” Graham was one of those assholes.

So no, I won’t be shedding a single tear. I won’t be lowering my flag. And I sure as hell won't be pretending this sniveling, power-hungry motherfucker was some great American simply because he finally croaked.

Good riddance to that closeted cocksucker.

Cable news is already tripping over itself to describe him as a "statesman," a "patriot," and a "bridge builder."

Such complete and total bullshit. We all know Lady G won’t be remembered because he was brave. He will only be remembered as the ignorant but useful village idiot:

• Useful to racists.

• Useful to authoritarians.

• Useful to billionaires.

• Useful to a political party that decided cruelty wasn’t a bug. It was a feature.

Every time he had a choice between doing the right thing and kissing the nearest tyrant's ass, Graham reached for his ChapStick.

Lady G once warned America about Conald Chump. Then he spent the next several years surgically attaching himself to Chump's orange backside because, apparently, dignity was less important than staying on the guest list.

That’s not leadership. That's careerism with the soul of a fucking parasite.

Graham The Cracker stood shoulder-to-shoulder with politicians who demonized immigrants, winked at white nationalism, attacked voting rights, treated Black history like a threat, and turned LGBTQ people into convenient punching bags whenever the polls demanded another culture war. Fuck him and his “legacy” very much.

While he didn’t exactly invent hate, he helped market it to the willfully-ignorant and self-centered. He wrapped hate in nationalism and patriotism, sprinkled it with Bible verses, and sold it as "family values."

That's one helluva legacy. May Graham The Cracker rot in hell.

People love saying, "Don't speak ill of the dead." But why not? Lindsey Graham never seemed to have a problem speaking ill of immigrants, LGBTQ people, political opponents, or anyone else who stood in the way of his ambitions.

Death isn’t a magical PR firm that erases a lifetime of words and deeds. And Lady Karma can be a real bitch. When she stops being tardy to the party.

Death doesn't scrub away decades of cowardice. It doesn't erase every harmful vote. It doesn't transform an amoral faggot into a beloved elder statesman. (Yeah, I said what I said. And I mean it.)

If you spent your life making other people's lives demonstrably worse, history doesn't owe you a standing ovation. It owes you an honest accounting.

The fact is Lindsey “Ladybug” Graham chose power over principle. Cruelty over compassion. Cowardice over courage. Again. And again. And again.

So while others write glowing tributes, I'll simply say this: The Senate has one fewer shameless opportunist in its hallowed halls. May the rest of his morally-bankrupt colleagues come crashing down with the house of cards they built.

Keep calm and carry on!
Clint 🌈✌️

The Carolina Courier

Senator Lindsey Graham and The Madame Lady G

June is “Pride Month”, which means rainbows splattered on every corporate logo, drag queens reading to toddlers, and, in some corners of the internet, the resurfacing of long-standing tales of Lindsey Graham and his elusive alter ego. As a gay man myself, I find the annual ritual oddly entertaining, like watching fireworks on the Fourth of July or Joe B…

Read more

a year ago · 17 likes · 2 comments · James Bessinger

ICYMI = IN CASE YOU MISSED IT

• SUNDAY = Better Late Than Never, Right?

• MONDAY = Cleaning Up My Act

• TUESDAY = Flat Tire + Taco Tuesday

• WEDNESDAY = On Self-Reflection

• THURSDAY = Co-Working With A Friend

• FRIDAY = On Altercations + Conflicts

• SATURDAY = On Bots + Buttheads

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-12 = Cheyenne Jackson (1975- ) = American actor and singer 🌈

• 07-12 = Elsa von Freytag-Loringhoven (1874-1927) = German artist 🌈

• 07-12 = Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) = American writer 🌈

• 07-12 = Kyrsten Sinema (1976- ) = American politician 🌈

• 07-12 = Max Jacob (1876-1944) = French poet, painter, writer, and critic 🌈

• 07-12 = Michelle Rodriguez (1978- ) = American actor 🌈

• 07-12 = Richard Simmons (1948-2024) = American trainer and actor 🌈

• 07-12 = Stefan George (1868-1933) = German poet and a translator 🌈

• 07-12 = Van Cliburn (1934-2013) = American pianist 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”
Henry David Thoreau

For all the incredible technology we’ve invented, it shouldn’t surprise me that we’ve also managed to create an endless supply of fakes, frauds, and other assorted fucktards.

And yet...I’m still amazed at how low they can go, how tricky their dickie is.

Every day there's a new email claiming my account has been suspended. A text insisting I owe unpaid tolls. A phone call informing me that the IRS is moments away from sending a tactical team to seize my IKEA furniture.

The creativity would almost be impressive if it weren't so damn annoying. And so damn dangerous.

That's why I try to stay on high alert for fuckery.

Case in point: yesterday I received a text reminding me about an appointment I supposedly had across town.

The address looked legitimate. The message sounded professional. For about half a second, my brain wondered, “Did I forget something?”

Then common sense kicked in. I didn’t have an appointment.

• Delete.

• Report as spam.

• Block the number.

• Done.

Granted, blocking these clowns feels a bit like trying to hold back the ocean with a beach towel. They'll just spoof another number tomorrow and try again. Their entire business model depends on catching us when we're distracted, stressed, tired, or simply not paying attention.

They don’t need everyone to fall for it. They only need a few people.

So here’s my friendly reminder: don’t make it any easier on them!

If you receive an unexpected text, email, or phone call asking you to click a link, confirm personal information, send money, or panic immediately, simply pause for a second.

Take a breath and ask yourself if it actually makes sense.

• Did you really schedule that appointment?

• Are you actually expecting that package?

• Does your bank text you from random phone numbers?

• Probably not.

When in doubt, don't click the link. Open the company's app yourself. Type the website into your browser. Or call the customer service number listed on your card or statement. Taking an extra minute can save you hours of frustration and possibly thousands of dollars.

The internet has made our lives easier in countless ways. Unfortunately, it's also made life easier for scammers and spammers.

I know it’s annoying. I know it’s exhausting. Some days it feels like we’re all doing unpaid QA (Quality Assurance) work for the internet.

But every scam you recognize is one that fails.

Every spam message you report makes it a little harder for them to reach the next person.

Every suspicious link you refuse to click is one less opportunity for some digital parasite to profit from someone else’s trust.

• Your attention is valuable.

• Your personal information is valuable.

• Your time is valuable.

Please treat them that way.

Keep calm, stay vigilant, and don't let the bots and buttheads win!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-11 = Dorothy Wilde (1895-1941) = English writer 🌈

• 07-11 = Esera Tuaolo (1968- ) = American professional football player 🌈

• 07-11 = Giorgio Armani (1934-2025) = Italian fashion designer 🌈

• 07-11 = Jack Wrangler (1946-2009) = American adult actor and filmmaker 🌈

• 07-11 = Leisha Hailey (1971- ) = American actor and musician 🌈

• 07-11 = Tab Hunter (1931-2018) = American actor, singer, and author 🌈

• 07-11 = Vito Russo (1946-1990) = American activist and author 🌈

• 07-11 = Yul Brynner (1920-1985) = Russian actor and dancer 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I’m not on earth to win a popularity contest. I’m here to be the best human being I possibly can be.”
Tab Hunter

Like most people, I don't wake up looking for trouble.

I'd much rather spend my day talking about art, history, tacos, or whatever random rabbit hole my undiagnosed ADHD brain decides to tumble down next. Altercations and conflicts aren't exactly on my to-do list.

Unfortunately, we seem to be living in the Age of Assholes.

Ever since Dick-Tator Chump slithered back into power, it feels like every bigot, blowhard, and bully has been emboldened to act like a fucking fool.

Whether it's politicians punching down, internet trolls desperate for attention, or everyday jackasses trying to intimidate strangers, we're constantly forced to decide how, or if, we'll respond.

Everyone has their own approach. But mine is really simple: I bully bullies back.

Now, before anyone clutches their pearls, let me explain.

I'd much rather be a teddy bear. I'm friendly. Patient. Kind. I'll give almost anyone the benefit of the doubt.

But too many people mistake my kindness for weakness.

Which is a big, big mistake. At least when they do it to me.

Because underneath all this fluff is the gruff of a grizzly bear.

Sunday afternoon, I was in Little Tokyo waiting on a friend when some dude decided to puff up, posture, and try to intimidate me. Like we were back in fucking high school.

Newsflash to all the basic bitches: I graduated a lonnnnnng time ago. And if you want to play bully with me, you'd better come prepared to lose.

Maybe he thought the tall, chubby gay guy would make an easy target. Or maybe he was having a bad day. Or maybe he was just a motherfucking, homophobic asshole.

Whatever the reason, he picked the wrong motherfucker.

Instead of shrinking or pretending nothing was happening, I stood my ground.

Actually, I did a little more than that. I got loud. Really loud.

Like, “Everyone stop eating your ramen!” loud.

Within seconds, hundreds of people were looking our way.

Funny thing about bullies: they love an audience right up until the audience starts turning on them. Amazing how quickly this dude's swagger evaporated once everyone was watching. And starting to point and laugh. And just like that...he ran away with his dick tucked between his legs. Good riddance!

Thankfully, it never became physical.

I'm grateful for that because, despite what action movies would have us believe, getting punched hurts. But once someone decides to hurt me or the people I love, my instinct isn't to curl into a ball. It's to fight the fuck back. By any means necessary.

Not because I enjoy fighting. But because I’ve watched too many assholes, from playground bullies to politicians, rely on intimidation to get what they want. They expect fear. They expect compliance. They expect decent people to stay quiet. I don’t roll over or remain silent. I push back. And I give as good (and as bad) as I get.

Sometimes all it takes to stop a bully is someone who's willing to stand their ground.

Now, I'm not suggesting every disagreement deserves a public shouting match. Most don't. Choosing your battles is still one of life's most underrated skills.

But there are moments when speaking up isn’t just appropriate. It’s necessary.

To me, kindness and courage aren’t opposite ends of the spectrum. In fact, I think real kindness requires courage. It means treating people with respect while refusing to let anyone walk all over you.

So here’s today’s friendly reminders:

• Be kind.

• Be patient.

• Be compassionate.

• But don’t ever let anyone take advantage of you, boo.

I don’t go looking for fights. But I also refuse to spend my life making myself smaller so someone else can feel bigger.

Bullies don’t deserve our fear. But they deserve some just deserts.

Keep calm and roar on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-10 = Alec Mapa (1965- ) = American actor, comedian, and writer 🌈

• 07-10 = Alexandra Hedison (1969- ) = American photographer and actor 🌈

• 07-10 = Angel Haze (1991- ) = American rapper and singer 🌈

• 07-10 = Fiona Shaw (1958- ) = Irish actor and director 🌈

• 07-10 = Jerry Herman (1931-2019) = American composer and lyricist 🌈

• 07-10 = Marcel Proust (1871-1922) = French novelist 🌈

• 07-10 = Neil Tennant (1954- ) = English singer-songwriter 🌈

• 07-10 = Nick Adams (1931-1968) = American actor and screenwriter 🌈

• 07-10 = Nikola Tesla (1856-1943) = Serbian-American engineer 🌈

• 07-10 = Zoe Dunning (1963- ) = American naval officer and activist 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I have a lot of friends who get up most mornings and go to jobs they absolutely hate. I don’t think that’s what life is about and I’m so fortunate that I actually love what I do.”
Jerry Herman

Who knew the secret to getting more work done wasn't buying another planner, downloading yet another productivity app, or convincing myself that this would finally be the week I transformed into one of those annoyingly productive "morning people"?

Apparently, all I needed was another human being.

Yesterday afternoon, I headed over to my friend Ray's house for our first co-working session. He and his husband graciously let me invade their dining room, where Ray worked at one end of the table while I claimed the other. His husband was upstairs in his home office doing his own thing.

We spent a few minutes catching up, cussing and discussing everything except work. Then we opened our laptops and got down to business.

For the next couple of hours, we mostly sat in comfortable silence, breaking it only to ask a question or crack a smart-ass comment. Somehow, I accomplished more in those two hours than I had in the previous two days.

The idea was born over brunch last week. Since we're both independent creative types, we're also both pro-level procrastinators. Left to our own devices, we'll sit down to write, reorganize our desks, answer a couple of emails, and somehow end up reading about the inventor of the paper clip.

So I suggested we become “accountability buddies.”

Ray, being the delightfully goofball that he is, asked, "Won’t that hurt something?"

After kicking around a few ideas, we landed on something simple: co-working together a couple of afternoons each week. No meetings. No brainstorming sessions. No inspirational TED Talks. Just two friends sitting at opposite ends of a table, quietly working on our own projects.

Turns out, that's exactly what our easily distracted brains needed.

It's surprisingly hard to disappear down a YouTube rabbit hole when someone across the table is actually getting stuff done. Productivity, it seems, is mildly contagious.

Co-working is also social without being socially exhausting.

After spending so much time working alone over the past few years, I forgot how nice it is just having another person nearby. We don't have to entertain each other. We simply exist in the same space, get our work done, and occasionally interrupt each other with something completely unimportant.

An unexpected bonus? It kept me away from the endless rabbit hole otherwise known as "the news." Left to my own devices, I would've spent half the afternoon following the latest clusterfuck in Iran and the daily shitshow in Washington, D.C.

Our illustrious Chump-in-Chief always seems to have another headline in mind, but I decided my attention was better spent finishing my own work than feeding the outrage machine.

And unlike renting office space or buying an eight-dollar latte just to justify occupying a table at a coffee shop all afternoon, our DIY co-working arrangement costs next to nothing. Just a little gas to get me to his place. Or him to mine.

Honestly, I think we may have accidentally stumbled onto a real, reproducible life hack.

Keep calm and carry on!
Clint 🌈✌️

NEW + NOW PLAYING

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-09 = Anthony D. Romero (1965- ) = American lawyer and ACLU director 🌈

• 07-09 = David Hockney (1937-2026) = English painter and photographer 🌈

• 07-09 = Dorothy Thompson (1893-1861) = American journalist 🌈

• 07-09 = Henry Geldzahler (1935-1994) = Belgian-American curator 🌈

• 07-09 = Kelly McGillis (1957- ) = American actor 🌈

• 07-09 = Marc Almond (1957- ) = English singer-songwriter 🌈

• 07-09 = Mathilde Krim (1926-2018) = Swiss medical researcher 🌈

• 07-09 = Minor White (1908-1976) = American photographer 🌈

• 07-09 = Oliver Sacks (1933-2015) = English-American neurologist and author 🌈

• 07-09 = Vanessa Selbst (1984- ) = American poker player 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“As you get older, it gets a bit harder to keep the spontaneity in you, but I work at it.”
David Hockney

“You must plan to be spontaneous.”
David Hockney

“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet
and the winds long to play with your hair.”
Khalil Gibran

VINTAGE PHOTOS

Read more

A couple of months ago, I started seeing a therapist.

I think I mentioned that before, but if not...surprise! Apparently, even people who write a couple thousand words a week can forget to mention the important stuff.

I’ve never been anti-therapy. But I have been pro-avoidance.

For years, my coping strategy was simple: stay busy. Start another project. Write another blog post. Edit another video. Rearrange the furniture because it's amazing how much easier it is to move a sofa than unpack 30+ years of emotional baggage.

Unfortunately, emotional baggage is like glitter. Once it gets into your life, you're never completely rid of it.

My therapist is one of those rare people who sees right through my bullshit. But in the nicest, most empathetic possible way. Every week he shines a flashlight into another dusty corner of my soul and asks, "So...what's hiding over here?"

My first instinct is usually, "I don't know. Let's throw the tarp back over it and never speak of it again."

Instead, he gently reminds me that avoiding the mess doesn't make it disappear.

Apparently, healing requires unpacking all those old emotional boxes I've spent years shoving into the back of the closet and pretending weren't there.

Unhealthy things rarely survive, much less thrive, once they’re brought into the light.

I've spent most of my life avoiding uncomfortable feelings.

• Anxiety? Distract myself.

• Grief? Work harder.

• Loneliness? Convince myself I prefer being alone.

Our brains lie, cheat, and sometimes steal when they're trying to protect us.

Therapy has become the slow, occasionally uncomfortable process of separating those unproductive stories from actual reality.

Some of those stories came from growing up the gay, agnostic kid in a Southern Baptist family. Some came from friendships that taught me what loyalty looked like...and, occasionally, what betrayal looked like too. Some came from romantic relationships that were wonderful while they lasted. Others came from romantic relationships that should've come with warning labels.

Every relationship or situationship left fingerprints. Some left scars.
All of them helped shape the man I am today.

For a long time, I became whoever I thought others needed me to be. People-pleasing wasn’t just a personality trait. It was a full-time job. I collected approval like some people collect baseball cards or stamps.

The problem is that when you spend enough years trying to be who everyone else wants you to be, you eventually lose sight of who you are. And what you want.

Apparently, finding my way back to me takes fifty-three years, a therapist, and an embarrassing number of tissues.

These days, I'm learning that healing isn't pretending the past never happened. It's understanding why it still echoes. Why criticism stings longer than it should. Why I apologize for things that aren't my fault. Why my first instinct is to assume someone is upset with me when they're probably just busy living their own lives.

My brain has an incredible imagination. Unfortunately, it often writes fan fiction about worst-case scenarios.

The good news is that healing isn’t about becoming a different person. It’s about becoming more yourself. The version that existed before fear started calling the shots. Before shame became the loudest voice in the room.

Therapy isn't always comfortable. Some weeks I leave feeling lighter. Other weeks I leave feeling like my soul just went through a commercial-grade pressure washer.

I'm finally realizing that dealing with the past isn't the same as living in it. Feeling your emotions isn't the same as drowning in them. And healing isn't a destination. It's simply deciding you're tired of running from yourself.

Some days that's easier than others. But for the first time, in a long time, I feel like I'm finally headed in the right direction.

Thank you for being a friend!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-08 = Peter Orlovsky (1933-2010) = American poet 🌈

• 07-08 = Philip Johnson (1906-2005) = American architect 🌈

• 07-08 = Silvia Modig (1976- ) = Finnish politician and journalist 🌈

MAN CRUSHES OF THE DAY

“A rainbow comes pouring into my window, I am electrified.
Songs burst from my breast, all my crying stops, mistory fills
the air.
I look for my shues under my bed….”
Peter Orlovsky, “Frist Poem”

“You’re going to change the world? Well, go ahead and try. You’ll give it up at a certain point and change yourself instead.”
Philip Johnson

Last night, I took the trash out before bed and happened to glance over at my car. That’s when I saw it:

One of my tires was flatter than my dating prospects on a deserted island.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

After more than eight years of driving this car, I’ve finally earned my first flat tire.

Honestly, that’s a pretty impressive streak, especially living in Los Angeles. Between potholes big enough to qualify for their own ZIP codes and random road debris that seems to materialize out of thin air, I’m amazed all four tires survived this long.

I don’t know what got me, but something finally won.

The silver lining? The tire had the good manners to go flat while the car was parked. It could’ve waited until I was doing 75 on the freeway during rush hour. Instead, it quietly waved the white flag in my driveway.

So this morning, I found myself sitting at the tire shop after getting towed over by AAA. Thankfully, the whole process was easy, breezy, and beautiful. Well, handsome, thanks to Miguel, my friendly tow truck driver.

On the ride over, I kept repeating the same little mantra:

• “Hopefully it’s just a patch.”

• “Hopefully my wallet survives.”

• “Hopefully this doesn’t become ‘Flat Tire + Taco Tuesday + Financial Ruin.’”

Well...

• The good news? I made it here safely.

• The bad news? All four tires need to be replaced.

• The other bad news? They’re backed up, so I’ll be waiting awhile.

• The other good news? The tires aren’t cheap, but they are reasonable.

Oh well. I’ll consider it all a win. And once the car is roadworthy again, I’m rewarding myself with some Taco Tuesday goodness.

A few years ago, something like this would’ve ruined my entire day. I would have convinced myself it was the first domino in a long line of expensive disasters:

• Flat tire today.

• Transmission tomorrow.

• Engine next week.

• Living under an overpass by Labor Day.

My anxiety has always been incredibly creative and overactive. It can somehow take one minor inconvenience and spin it into a full-blown catastrophe before I’ve even finished my breakfast.

These days, I'm a lot less reactive and a lot better at “going with the flow.”

• Stuff breaks.

• People help.

• Tires get replaced.

• I eat Mexican food.

I’m not chasing a life where nothing ever goes wrong. That’s fantasy. I’m just trying to become the kind of person who can roll with the punches, appreciate the people who show up when I need them, and remember that sometimes the best part of a bad day is the lunch that follows.

Besides, if the biggest inconvenience I have this week is buying a new set of tires and being forced to eat tacos afterward, I would say the universe and I are getting along just fine.

Day by day, I feel closer to fine. How about you, boo?

Keep calm and get your tacos on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-07 = Bruce Bellas (1909-1974) = American physique photographer 🌈

• 07-07 = George Cukor (1899-1983) = American film director 🌈

• 07-07 = Gottfried Von Cramm (1909-1976) = German tennis player 🌈

• 07-07 = Kirsten Vangsness (1972- ) = American actor 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“You can always land on your feet if you know where the ground is.”
George Cukor

Growing up, cleanliness was next to godliness in our house.

We weren’t religious, but we did worship at the Church of Pine-Sol.

Every Sunday, I had my sacred chores to do: dust my mom’s collection of tchotchkes and scrub my dad’s bathroom. The goal was simple: don’t break anything, and don’t leave behind any dirt, dust, grease, or grime. Sometimes I think my parents had me to be their unpaid maid.

That upbringing stuck with me. For most of my adult life, I’ve kept a reasonably clean home. Sure, life happened. Dishes piled up. Laundry started reproducing when I wasn’t looking. But eventually I’d get things back under control.

Then COVID happened.

Like a lot of people, my mental health took a beating. I couldn’t invite people over, so I mostly stopped cleaning. Days blurred into weeks. The outside world became something I watched through a screen or window. Somewhere along the way, I started keeping things “just in case.” Empty and full boxes multiplied. Half-finished projects took over every available surface. Clutter quietly became my new normal.

I don’t think I would have have called myself a hoarder at the time. But looking back? Yeah, maybe I was just a little bit of a hoarder. Okay, maybe more than just a little.

Moving last summer, with much help from my bestie , forced me to part with much of the clutter I'd accumulated over the years. The boxes are mostly gone, but the habits that created them have been harder to unpack.

Chaos has a funny way of becoming invisible when you live with it long enough.

When nobody else sees the mess, it's easy to pretend it doesn't exist. But I see it.

Every time I stepped over another pile or relocated something from one flat surface to another, I told myself, "I'll deal with that later." Turns out, "later" was just another name for Future Me, and that poor bastard has been buried in his own unfinished business for years.

Last Friday, I finally had a reason to break the cycle.

A friend was coming over for a movie and music night, so I cleaned like the health department was making a surprise inspection. By the time he arrived, the place wasn’t perfect, but it was the cleanest and tidiest it’s been in months.

The funny part is I'm pretty sure he didn't notice or give a fuck.

But I did. Not because I was embarrassed, but because I know how I like my home to look and feel. I wasn’t raised in a barn, even if my apartment has sometimes told a different story.

Before I started cleaning, YouTube recommended a video by Garret Watts, a handsome creator I'd never heard of before. On his second channel, Garret Unhinged, he posted a long-form video about cleaning up his messy house and facing some of his own inner demons.

Garrett’s video is less a cleaning video and more a reminder that sometimes the first step toward feeling better is simply picking up the first thing off the floor.

We don’t reinvent our lives with one bold, cinematic decision. We reinvent our lives by taking out the trash. By folding the laundry. By vacuuming the floor. By washing the dishes before they qualify as biohazards. Then you wake up tomorrow and do it again.

Personally, “cleaning up my act” means taking better care of myself and my surroundings. Professionally, it means showing up more consistently. Writing more. Creating more. Spending less time waiting for motivation to arrive like it’s Madonna at a sold-out concert.

For me, order helps create momentum.

A cleaner desk makes me want to write more. A cleaner apartment makes me want to invite friends over more. A consistent creative routine makes me want to create more.

It’s all connected. And interconnected.

For the record, I'm not chasing perfection. I already know that's a losing proposition. I'm just trying to become the kind of person who washes his dishes because they're dirty, not because he's run out of clean ones.

One small mess at a time. One small win at a time….

Keep calm and keep cleaning!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-06 = Ethel Sands (1873-1962) = British painter and socialite 🌈

• 07-06 = Frida Kahlo (1907-1954) = Mexican artist 🌈

• 07-06 = Glenn Scarpelli (1966- ) = American actor and singer 🌈

• 07-06 = Leonard Matlovich (1943-1988) = American veteran and activist 🌈

• 07-06 = Merv Griffin (1925-2007) = American tv host and media mogul 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“The Air Force pinned a medal on me for killing a man and discharged me for making love to one.”
Leonard Matlovich

First things first, forgive the tardiness of this post.

I usually publish first thing in the morning. Today, however, I was too busy having an actual life. So instead of writing this over breakfast, you're getting it just before I sit down to dinner.

This three-day holiday weekend, I got busy living my life.
Out loud. Out proud. And, most significantly, out of the house.

Back when I was too scared to leave my house, I never imagined I’d have a weekend filled with friends, new and old, making memories to last a lifetime.

These days, my social calendar has gone from a barren wasteland to something that actually requires coordination and planning. Lunches. Happy hours. Holiday parties. Coffee dates. Somewhere along the way, I’m becoming a social butterfly again.

Who is this person? Who am I becoming? Only time will tell…

And in time, I will find my balance and my footing again. After years of anxiety, depression, grief, and agoraphobia, it’s easy for me to overcorrect. When you’ve spent as much time alone as I have, every invitation feels like something you don’t want to pass up.

So yes, I may be overbooking myself just a little.
And, for now, I’m okay with that.

I’m reconnecting with people I haven’t seen in years, strengthening friendships that somehow survived my years-long disappearing act, and making new memories with folks who probably have no idea how much these moments mean to me.

I’m rediscovering something I forgot: community doesn’t just happen. It takes showing up. It takes saying yes. It takes leaving the house, even when the couch is making a compelling argument.

This weekend reminded me how quickly life can change.

A couple of years ago, weekends like this felt like relics from another lifetime. While everyone else was making plans, I was mostly trying to convince myself to go outside long enough to check the mail.

Holidays had become something I watched other people enjoy. Mostly online. Now I’m the one making plans. Funny how that works.

We spend so much time believing our current circumstances are permanent. We assume that loneliness will last forever. That sadness is who we are. That we’ll always be the person who’s too scared, too tired, or too broken to participate.

• Then one small change leads to another.

• One coffee date turns into a friendship.

• One invitation leads to another.

• One weekend becomes a social calendar that’s suddenly a little too full.

Frankly, it’s a wonderful problem to have.

I’m still learning the balance between saying yes to people and saying yes to myself.

My introverted batteries still need regular charging. But I’ll happily take the occasional scheduling conflict over wondering whether I’ll ever have a social life again.

So thank you for your patience while I was busy making new memories instead of writing about old ones.

And thank you for cheering me on over the past few years. So many of you celebrated the little victories, back when simply leaving the house felt like climbing a mountain.

Turns out those little victories have a way of adding up.

Better late than never, right?

Thank you for being a friend!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-05 = “Captain Moonlite” (1842-1880) = Irish-born New Zealand bushranger and Australian folk figure 🌈

• 07-05 = Cecil Rhodes (1853-1902) = British imperialist and magnate 🌈

• 07-05 = Hein Vos (1903-1972) = Dutch politician and economist 🌈

• 07-05 = Jean Cocteau (1889-1963) = French poet, artist, and director 🌈

• 07-05 = Megan Rapinoe (1985- ) = American athlete and activist 🌈

• 07-05 = Wayne Besen (1970- ) = American journalist and advocate 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“What the public criticizes in you, cultivate. It is you.”
Jean Cocteau

Happy Fourth of July to everyone celebrating America’s 250th birthday!

And to anyone wondering why your neighborhood suddenly sounds like it’s being invaded by a small army...I’m sorry.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always had a complicated relationship with the Fourth of July. I love a good barbecue. I enjoy spending time with friends. I appreciate a three-day weekend as much as the next overworked American. And I will never say no to potato salad. But I’ve never understood why we’re all expected to transform into unpaid ambassadors for the Department of Patriotism every July.

• Flags on every porch.

• Red, white, and blue everywhere.

• Country songs about dirt roads, Jesus, pickup trucks, and freedom.

• Half the neighborhood recreating military battles with illegal fireworks.

Frankly, it’s all a bit...much.

Maybe it’s because I’ve always been suspicious of anything that expects everyone to feel exactly the same way at exactly the same time.

• Stand.

• Salute.

• Sing.

• Wave.

• Cheer.

• Don’t ask too many questions.

As a gay kid growing up in the Bible Belt, I learned pretty early that whenever everyone is expected to think alike, someone inevitably gets left out of the invitation.

That experience left me with a lifelong allergy to tribalism.

• Political tribes.

• Religious tribes.

• Sports tribes.

• Brand tribes.

• Even LGBTQ+ tribes, if I’m being honest.

In my opinion, the moment your identity depends on believing your team is always right and everyone else is the enemy, you’ve stopped thinking for yourself. You’ve outsourced your personality.

I know. I know. “It’s just a flag.” “It’s just fireworks.” “We’re just celebrating our country.”

Sure. Whatever lies you need to tell yourself.

Propaganda rarely announces itself. It doesn't arrive wearing a name tag. It slips in through the front door, disguised as tradition, wrapped in hamburgers, beer, fireworks, and a soundtrack catchy enough to keep us from asking uncomfortable questions.

Propaganda is one way patriotism can drift toward nationalism. Pride can become superiority. Love of country can become the comforting illusion that “one nation under God” is uniquely righteous while the rest of the world is just trying to catch up.

History has heard that imperialist bullshit before:

• The Romans were spreading civilization.

• The British were spreading order.

• The French were spreading enlightenment.

• America has spent generations telling itself it’s spreading freedom.

Funny how every empire has a marketing department.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a lot about America. I love our messy commitment to free speech, even when it gets abused. I love our creativity, our generosity, and our stubborn optimism. I love that this country has given millions of people, including me, opportunities they might never have had elsewhere.

But I also believe loving something means seeing it clearly. It means acknowledging slavery alongside liberty. Jim Crow alongside democracy. The AIDS crisis alongside medical innovation. Japanese internment alongside constitutional ideals. Progress alongside backlash. Hope alongside hypocrisy.

The light doesn’t erase the dark.
The dark doesn’t erase the light.
Both are part of the story.

To me, healthy patriotism requires seeing the dark and the light. Not pretending our country is flawless. Not insisting it’s irredeemable. Simply loving it enough to tell the truth, even when that truth is problematic.

Because countries, like people, don’t grow by pretending they’ve never made mistakes. They grow by learning from them.

So tonight I'll enjoy the fireworks. My lizard brain always loves a good light show. I'll laugh with friends, eat something unhealthy, and take a moment to remember the countless sacrifices that have shaped this country over the past 250 years.

Not just the soldiers who fought for our independence, but everyone who kept pushing America a little closer to its own ideals. The abolitionists. The suffragists. The labor organizers. The civil rights leaders. The LGBTQ+ activists. The immigrants who built new lives here. The ordinary people who believed this experiment was worth improving, even when it fell painfully short.

I’ll also remember that the greatest expression of freedom isn’t waving a flag. It’s having the freedom to ask whether we’re living up to what that flag is supposed to represent.

That’s a celebration worthy of Independence Day.

Not blind pride. Honest pride.

The kind that isn’t afraid of the dark or the light.

Keep calm and keep cool!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-04 = Edmonia Lewis (1844-1907) = American sculptor 🌈

• 07-04 = Stephen Boyd (1931-1977) = British actor 🌈

• 07-04 = Steven Cojocaru (1970- ) = Canadian fashion critic 🌈

• 07-04 = Stephen Foster (1826-1864) = American composer 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I don’t know what goes into being a star. Perhaps it is the capacity to explain the character and story to any audience, in any language, in any country.”
Stephen Boyd

I don’t often find myself agreeing with Herbert Hoover. His response to the Great Depression was so ineffective that historians regularly rank him among America’s worst presidents. But on this point, I think he got it right.

America is an experiment. Or at least it was supposed to be.

Not a promise of perfection. Not a guarantee of prosperity. An experiment. A bold, messy attempt to prove that people with wildly different backgrounds, beliefs, and ambitions could build a nation rooted in life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Experiments don’t always succeed. Sometimes they reveal uncomfortable truths.

As America celebrates its 250th birthday tomorrow, I can’t help wondering whether we’re honoring the experiment...or pretending it hasn’t gone spectacularly off the rails.

Instead of using this milestone to reflect on where we’ve been, where we are, and where we hope to go, we got Conald Chump’s version of America: all spectacle and no substance.

Freedom 250, not to be confused with the official America 250 celebration, feels less like a tribute to the nation than a birthday party for a wannabe dick-tator. Instead of reflecting on our history, we’ve been handed a carefully choreographed production featuring oversized flags, military pageantry, campaign slogans masquerading as patriotism, and enough self-congratulatory bullshit to make even a narcissist blush.

Fireworks can be impressive. But the message behind them is usually less inspiring.

The Founding Fathers were brave and brilliant. But they were also deeply flawed.

Many spoke passionately about liberty while enslaving other human beings. Women had virtually no political rights. Indigenous people were displaced and erased in the name of conquest and expansion. Equality was reserved only for a privileged few.

Let’s not pretend otherwise. But let’s also acknowledge what they accomplished.

Despite their many contradictions, the Founders created something extraordinary. They didn’t claim to have built a perfect nation. They built a framework for one. A Constitution that could be amended. A government with checks and balances. A system designed to limit power instead of concentrating it. A peaceful transfer of power that became the envy of the world.

They understood something we’ve forgotten: Democracy isn’t a destination. It’s an ongoing negotiation. The Declaration of Independence didn’t describe America as it existed. It described America as it could become.

“All men are created equal” wasn’t a statement of fact in 1776. It was an aspiration.

Every generation since has been challenged to make those words a little more true. To widen the circle. To make “We the People” include more people than it did before.

That’s the experiment. Not whether America can become richer. But whether America can become fairer.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped measuring success by how many people had a seat at the table and started measuring it by how much money the ruling class had amassed.

Even worse, we started confusing capitalism with democracy.

They are not the same thing!

Democracy gives every citizen a vote.
Capitalism gives every dollar a vote.

And when wealth becomes concentrated in fewer and fewer hands, those dollars begin speaking much louder than the rest of us.

Today, nearly a thousand American billionaires control more wealth than most of us can even comprehend. Elon Musk’s fortune alone is so enormous that it has become almost abstract. When one person can spend hundreds of millions influencing elections without noticeably affecting their bank account, we’re no longer talking about free markets. We’re talking about oligarchy.

Before somebody rushes into the comments screaming, “Move to Cuba!” let me save you the trouble.

I’m not arguing against markets. I’m arguing against worshipping them.

One possible alternative is democratic socialism. Contrary to what its critics often claim, it isn’t about government owning everything. It’s about recognizing that some things are so fundamental to a healthy society that they shouldn’t be treated as luxury items reserved for whoever can afford them:

• A living wage

• Affordable housing

• Healthcare

• Public education

• Clean air

• Safe drinking water

• The ability to retire before your obituary appears

These aren’t extravagant demands. They're the bare minimum for any society that claims to value human dignity.

Capitalism has accomplished incredible things. It has fueled innovation, rewarded entrepreneurship, and lifted millions of people out of poverty.

It has also rewarded greed, encouraged monopolies, weakened labor unions, hollowed out the middle class, and convinced countless Americans that their value as human beings is measured by the size of their paycheck.

Capitalism is a remarkable servant. It’s a terrible master.

Meanwhile, we’ve turned billionaires into celebrities and celebrities into billionaires.

While I’m not a fan of her music, I have nothing against Taylor Swift. But watching the internet collectively obsess over every detail of a billionaire’s wedding while millions of Americans worry about making rent feels...off.

Not because joy is frivolous. But because distraction has become an industry.

We’re arguing over celebrity guest lists while corporate lobbyists rewrite legislation. We’re debating designer gowns while billionaires quietly buy newspapers, social media platforms, politicians, and public opinion.

It’s easier to sell fairy tales than fairness. Maybe it always has been.

Freedom isn’t free. Maybe it never was.

Democracy requires participation. Curiosity. Compromise. Accountability. It demands that ordinary people stay engaged, even when they’re exhausted. It asks us to defend institutions we didn’t create and rights we may never personally need.

Capitalism asks a much simpler question: What’s profitable?

Those aren’t the same values.

One creates citizens. The other creates consumers.

One measures the common good. The other measures quarterly earnings.

So here we are.

Two hundred and fifty years into what Herbert Hoover called “a great social and economic experiment.”

• We’ve allowed extraordinary wealth to become extraordinary political power.

• We’ve confused nationalism with patriotism.

• We’ve mistaken consumer choice for civic engagement.

• We’ve let billionaires convince us that what’s good for their portfolios is automatically good for America. It isn’t.

The American experiment was never supposed to produce kings.

• Not hereditary kings

• Not corporate kings

• Not political kings

• Not trillionaire kings

Democracy is still worth fighting for because it belongs to all of us.

Capitalism deserves a seat at the table. But it should never own the table.

So yes, enjoy the fireworks. Wave the flag. Celebrate America’s 250th birthday.

Then, when the last rocket fizzles out and the smoke clears, ask yourself: Are we still trying to build a more perfect union? Or have we settled for building more billionaires?

Keep calm and follow the money!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-03 = Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech-Austrian author 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.”
Franz Kafka

If people-pleasing were an Olympic sport, I would have a closet full of gold medals.

I spent decades trying to keep everyone happy. Family. Friends. Coworkers. Complete strangers. Even random people on the internet who were clearly committed to misunderstanding me.

It’s an exhausting hobby. I do not recommend it.

Growing up agnostic in a Southern Baptist family, I always felt like the odd duck. While everyone else seemed certain about God and Jesus, I quietly collected questions instead of answers.

I wasn’t trying to start a theological cage match.
I just couldn’t pretend certainty when I wasn’t certain.

Then there was the whole “gay” thing.

Before I even had the words for it, I knew I was different. Like a lot of LGBTQ folks, I learned to read the room, keep the peace, and become whatever version of myself made everyone else comfortable.

The problem is, after a while, I forgot what made me comfortable.

People often confuse people-pleasing with kindness. They are not the same thing.

Kindness comes from generosity.

People-pleasing usually comes from fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of conflict. Fear that if someone doesn’t like you, the universe might implode.

For years, I said yes when I wanted to say no. I apologized for things that weren’t my fault. I overexplained every decision like I was lip-syncing for my life.

No matter how accommodating I was, someone still thought I was rude. Or crude. Or both. No matter how generous I was, someone always wanted more. A lot more.

I’ve tested this theory extensively. If not scientifically.

One of the unexpected gifts of getting older is realizing that disappointing people isn’t always a failure. Sometimes it’s proof you’re finally respecting yourself.

These days, I’m better at setting boundaries. Not perfect. But better.

I decline invitations without writing a three-paragraph apology. I don’t answer every text the second it arrives. And every now and then, I simply say, “No.”

• No elaborate excuses.

• No fictional scheduling conflicts.

• Just...no.

It still feels a little weird. Fifty-plus years of programming doesn’t disappear overnight. Every so often, that little voice asks, “What if they’re mad at you?”

Maybe they are. Oh. Well. I’ll live.

One thing I’ve learned is that people who genuinely care about you usually respect your boundaries. The ones who complain the loudest are often the ones who benefited most from you not having any. Funny how that works.

Personally, I’m still a work-in-progress. I still like helping people. I still want to be kind.

But I’m finally learning that kindness doesn’t require self-sacrifice. You can be compassionate without becoming a doormat. You can be generous without running yourself ragged.

For most of my life, I thought being a good person meant making everyone else comfortable.

Now I think being a good person starts with being honest about who you are, what you believe, and what you need.

Some people will love that version of you. Some won’t.
Either way, they’ll be reacting to the real you.

And after a lifetime of trying to be everything for everyone, that feels a whole lot more authentic than collecting yet another gold medal in people-pleasing.

Keep calm and keep strong!
Clint 🌈✌️

READING RECOMMENDATIONS

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-02 = Bruce Nugent (1906-1987) = American writer and painter 🌈

• 07-02 = Charles Laughton (1899-1962) = British-American actor 🌈

• 07-02 = Daniel Kowalski (1975- ) = Australian freestyle swimmer 🌈

• 07-02 = Johnny Weir (1984- ) = American figure skater and tv personality 🌈

• 07-02 = Liane de Pougy (1869-1950) = French dancer and courtesan 🌈

• 07-02 = Pierre Cardin (1922-2020) = Italian-French fashion designer 🌈

• 07-02 = Sylvia Rivera (1951-2002) = American activist 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I have a name, I have to take advantage of it.”
Pierre Cardin

Growing up, I mostly stayed away from boys and men.

Partly because I was attracted to too many of them.
Partly because too many of them were bullies and buttheads.

It seemed easier, and safer, to keep my distance.

But as I started coming out to myself in high school, I realized something was missing from my life: Guy friends.

I wasn’t looking for boyfriends.
I was looking for “just friends.”

For someone who grew up seeing other men as either a crush or a threat, learning how to build genuine male friendships was both hard and healing.

Over the years, I’ve collected an amazing group of guys I can laugh with, vent to, celebrate with, and occasionally go out and get in trouble with. They are my brothers from other mothers. Our benefits are emotional, not physical.

Not that there's anything wrong with getting physical. I just prefer to save that for my “friends with benefits.” I've been lucky enough to have a few over the years. At the moment, I'm accepting applications and holding auditions. 😈😎

The phrase "friends with benefits" tends to make some folks clutch their pearls. But we're all grown-ass adults here. Personally, I've always thought the friendship deserved top billing. At their best, these physical friendships are built on honesty, trust, respect, and clear communication. The benefits are just that: benefits.

I don’t know about you, but not every connection has to become a soulmate audition.

Sometimes two people genuinely enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes they enjoy each other’s bodies too. With any luck, everyone leaves happy, nobody gets weird, and the friendship lives long and prospers.

As I’ve gotten older, my circle of “just friends” has become one of the greatest blessings in my life. Along with my sisters from other misters, my brothers from other mothers are the people who keep me grounded, remind me who I am, and show up when it matters.

I haven't been quite as successful with my roster of “friends with benefits.” Honestly, at my age, it's less of a roster and more of a wish list. But I'm learning that every kind of connection is worth investing in, so I'm keeping my eyes open for contenders.

Life has taught me that intimacy comes in a lot of different forms. Some people feed your soul. Some people feed your funny bone. Some people scratch an itch that doesn’t necessarily require a lifetime commitment.

The older I get, the less interested I am in forcing every relationship (or situationship) into the same box. Some people are meant to be lifelong friends. Some are meant to be lovers. Some are meant to be both…at least for a while.

Not every connection has to last forever to be meaningful.

Sometimes the greatest benefit isn’t the sex. It’s finding people who make life a little less lonely, a little more joyful, and remind you that there are countless ways to love and be loved.

Keep calm and keep shining!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 07-01 = Charles Laughton (1899-1962) = English-American actor and filmmaker

• 07-01 = Dom Orejudos (1933-1991) = American artist (Etienne)

• 07-01 = Farley Granger (1925-2011) = American actor

• 07-01 = Kiyoshi Kuromiya (1943-2000) = Japanese-American author and activist

• 07-01 = Louis Joseph (1654-1712) = French military commander (Vendôme)

• 07-01 = Orlando Cruz (1981- ) = Puerto Rican professional boxer

• 07-01 = Scotty Bowers (1923-2019) = American marine, author, and pimp

• Happy July Birthdays!

MAN CRUSHES OF THE DAY

WATCH SCOTTY AND THE SECRET HISTORY OF HOLLYWOOD (2017)
Full Film Free On YouTube

Several subscribers have messaged me lately, a little lost in the sauce about how Substack works. And, frankly, I don’t blame them. Because it can be more than a little confusing. I’m not even sure I’m using it “correctly” some days.

Long story short, Substack is a blog, newsletter, and social platform all in one.

For me, it’s where I publish my blog, send newsletters, share my videos, and, thanks to the support of my paid subscribers and patrons, help keep COLLIDE PRESS going and growing.

Not long after I joined, Team Substack introduced a feature called Notes. Think of it as Substack’s version of Twitter/X, only with fewer bots and trolls looking to pick a fight with strangers on the internet before breakfast.

I’ve been a pretty inconsistent Notes user so far. Every now and then I’ll share a random thought, post a link, recommend something I’ve enjoyed, or offer a quick behind-the-scenes glimpse into what I’m working on.

But lately, I’ve been thinking I should spend a little more time there.

Not because I’m chasing the latest social media “growth hack.”

Quite the opposite.

No, I’m looking for a “productivity hack.” Something to add to my motley mix of content and posts.

Writing a quick Note takes a fraction of the time it takes to research, write, edit, and publish one of my daily blog posts or put together one of my video montages.

While I have no intention of posting less here, Notes feels like the perfect home for all those brain farts, jokes, photos, recommendations, and fleeting thoughts that don’t necessarily need 500 words to make their point.

As a bonus, it gives people another way to discover me and my work without requiring them to subscribe first.

Lately, I’ve caught myself disappearing down research rabbit holes that go much deeper than I intended. One interesting article leads to another. Then another. Before I know it, I’ve spent hours learning fascinating things that may or may not ever make it into a blog post or video.

I love learning. I just don’t always love how much it slows me down.

I’d rather spend more of that time creating the montages I love making, the ones my paid subscribers and patrons have so generously supported over the past few years.

So don’t be surprised if you start seeing me pop up in Notes a little more often. Think of them as the bite-sized companion pieces to the longer stories I share here.

If you’re already on Substack, stop by and say hello.

In the meantime, here’s a couple of my favorite recent Notes:

Keep calm and get your Notes on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-30 = Alan Joyce (1966- ) = Australian business executive 🌈

• 06-30 = Ben Patrick Johnson (1969- ) = American voice actor and author 🌈

• 06-30 = Ilene Chaiken (1957- ) = American producer, director, writer 🌈

• 06-30 = Paris Barclay (1956- ) = American director and producer 🌈

• 06-30 = Reginald Brett (1852-1930) = British historian and politician 🌈

• 06-30 = Willam Belli (1982- ) = American drag queen, actor, singer-songwriter 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“The search for the truth is not for the faint hearted.”
Vincent D’Onofrio

Once upon a time, I thought you were either gay or straight.

Baby Clint was a basic bitch who thought basic thoughts.

Thankfully, I’ve evolved over the years.

Like a lot of people who grew up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, my understanding of sexuality was pretty limited. There were two boxes: gay and straight. You were one or the other, and that was that.

Then I got older and discovered that human beings are gloriously inconvenient and messy as fuck. Many of us refuse to fit neatly into tidy little categories.

Some are bisexual. Others are pansexual. Some identify as queer. Some as asexual. Some reject labels altogether. Some discover a new truth about themselves at sixteen. Others don’t figure it out until sixty.

Life has a funny way of reminding us that one size rarely fits all.

For years, I assumed every gay man experienced attraction the way I did. Then I started meeting people whose preferences and “types” couldn’t have been more different. Twinks. Bears. Otters. Jocks. Geeks. Leather guys. Silver foxes. Masculine men. Feminine men.

The same goes for relationships. Some couples are happily monogamous. Others thrive in open relationships or polyamory. What works beautifully for one couple might be a disaster for another.

The older I get, the less interested I am in what’s “normal.” I’m much more interested in what is honest, consensual, and kind.

One of the greatest gifts of getting older has been trading certainty for curiosity.

I no longer assume I know someone’s story just by looking at them.

The rugged biker might be married to another man. The masculine football fan might identify as bisexual. The soft-spoken church organist might be kinkier than everyone else at Sunday brunch combined.

People contain multitudes. Labels can be both liberating and limiting.

For some, labels provide language for feelings they've carried their entire lives and help them find a sense of identity and community. For others, labels feel like just another box they don't want to climb into.

Both perspectives are valid.

At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to figure ourselves out.

Some of us have the roadmap. Others are taking the long way around.

And that’s okay.

People are wonderfully complicated. Wonderfully diverse.

Thank good orderly direction for that. Because variety truly is the spice of life….

Keep calm and smell the roses!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-29 = Henry Gerber (1892-1972) = German-American activist 🌈

• 06-29 = Egon Von Fürstenberg (1946-2004) = Swiss socialite 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“It doesn’t get better than making people laugh and also making sure people don’t go hungry.”
Colin Jost

One of the greatest gifts of getting older is realizing that family isn’t always defined by DNA. Sometimes, it’s defined by who shows up, by who chooses us, and by whom we choose in return.

Last night, I had the pleasure of sharing dinner and drinks with two of my new favorite people. While we haven’t known each other all that long, John and Joey have already become dear friends. They’re a married couple whose relationship I truly admire and whose love story warms my heart. Their adorable, energetic little dog is an added bonus to our friendship.

After a delicious Mexican dinner, we drove down the block to the bar where they first met more than 30 years ago. Thirty years!

In a world that often celebrates what’s new and shiny, there’s something deeply comforting about seeing two people still choosing each other after three decades. They’re still laughing together, still finishing each other’s stories, and still writing their happily ever after, one day at a time. It’s the kind of love story that quietly restores my faith in love and long-term relationships.

This morning, I’m heading down to Orange County to spend time with two of my chosen brothers, who also happen to be newlyweds. They now call Alabama home but are back in California for a quick visit, and I’m grateful our schedules lined up long enough for some quality, in-real-life face time. Way better than FaceTime!

Later tonight, I’ll be catching up with another friend over dinner and whatever adventure the evening brings. Maybe we’ll do some Netflix and chill...minus the Netflix. I’ve never quite clicked with most of their original productions. Too many of them feel like they were assembled by bots instead of artists.

Thankfully, good conversation doesn’t require a streaming subscription.

The only disappointment this weekend is that I won’t get to see my sister-from-another-mister, Miss B, who’s visiting from Portland. Sometimes calendars, geography, and life simply refuse to cooperate.

I’m bummed we couldn’t make it work, but that’s the beauty of real friendships. They survive busy schedules, missed opportunities, and the miles between visits. Miss B and I will pick up where we left off the next time one of us lands in the other’s city. And over FaceTime as needed.

Weekends like this remind me how fortunate I am. My chosen family and dear friends have become some of the greatest blessings in my life.

Not everyone we love shares our last name. But some share our values and some of our history. Some simply arrive exactly when we need them most.

However they find their way into our lives, they’re my dears, nears, and/or queers.

And this weekend, I get to spend time with quite a few of them.

Keep calm and keep shining!
Clint 🌈✌️

ICYMI = IN CASE YOU MISSED IT

• SUNDAY = Father's Day + Father Figures

• MONDAY = A Man For All Reasons...

• TUESDAY = Look For The Good

• WEDNESDAY = A Day Late + A Dollar Short

• THURSDAY = Keep On Keeping On

• FRIDAY = The Stories We Tell Ourselves

• SATURDAY = I Wanna Dance With Somebody...

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-28 = David Kopay (1942- ) = American football player 🌈

• 06-28 = Mike White (1970- ) = American actor and filmmaker 🌈

• 06-28 = Sunil Babu Pant (1972- ) = Nepalese politician and activist 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“As long as the world is turning and spinning, we’re gonna be dizzy and we’re gonna make mistakes.”
Mel Brooks