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 ARCHIVE

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 ARCHIVE

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

While my waking hours have been a wee ennui this week, my dreams have been wacky and wonderful.

Last night, I found myself back at one of my favorite clubs from my NYC business trip days: Splash.

If you were a gay man in Manhattan in the mid-’90s, you probably knew it. It was loud, sweaty, joyful, and unapologetically gay. The music was always pumping, the dance floor was always packed, and for a few glorious hours, the rest of the world disappeared.

As Pride Month winds down, maybe it’s no surprise my subconscious took me there. Lately, my dreams have been revisiting places and moments where I felt most like myself. Proud, loud, and surrounded by people who let me be exactly who I was…or was becoming.

I don't remember much about the dream beyond my awkward, white-boy dance moves and the endless '80s soundtrack.

I'm not much of a dancer. I have lots of enthusiasm.
Rhythm, on the other hand, is gonna get me.

The same goes for singing. I can’t carry a tune to save my life, but I’d still rather sing than lip-sync any day.

If I end up metaphorical roadkill on the dance floor or the stage, so be it.

This big boy is gonna bust a move and sing his heart out.

Truth be told, I never really stopped.

These days the dance floor is usually my living room, and the audience is nonexistent. I still dance while I’m making dinner, cleaning the house, or waiting for my montages to upload. I still sing along to just about every song that comes through my headphones and speakers, blissfully unaware and unconcerned, about whether I’m hitting the right notes or not.

Some joys are too good to outgrow.

That’s what I miss most about places like Splash. The freedom to take up space. To laugh loudly. To live proudly. To dance badly. To sing off-key. To be seen without apology.

Maybe that’s what my dream was trying to remind me.

Pride isn’t just about parades or rainbow flags. It’s about remembering what it feels like to be fully yourself. And carrying that feeling with you long after June is over.

Keep calm, love yourself, and dance on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-27 = Bianca Del Rio (1975- ) = American drag queen-comedian 🌈

• 06-27 = Emma Goldman (1869-1940) = Russian activist and writer 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“Everything is not serious. If you don’t like what I’m saying, change the channel - don’t look at me, don’t buy a ticket. You either get it or you don’t, and it’s fascinating because it’s usually intelligent people with a sense of humor who get it.”
Bianca Del Rio

The older I get, the more I forget.

And I’m starting to think that’s a feature, not a bug.

Recently, I started working on a personal archive project, digging through old journals, photographs, emails, videos, and boxes that haven’t been opened in years. My goal is to capture as much of my past as I can before the details slip away.

At first, I thought I was simply trying to remember. Now I’m not so sure.

Now, I’m realizing that I’m preserving two very different kinds of stories:

1. Some I want to remember. The friends who became family. The concerts that changed my life. Long conversations over coffee. Museums. Road trips. The ordinary moments that somehow became the landmarks of my life. Those memories remind me that I’ve lived a pretty wonderful life, even during the seasons when I convinced myself otherwise.

2. Some I want to forget. The heartbreaks. The disappointments. The regrets. The years when anxiety, depression, and grief made my world very small. The conversations I’ve replayed a thousand times, always imagining what I should have said instead.

I’ve carried some of these stories around for decades. They’re heavy. And I’m tired. So maybe it’s time to unpack a few of them and leave them on the page instead of carrying them around on my back all the time.

The strange thing is, I don’t think memory works the way I once believed it did.

It’s less like a photograph and more like a collage. The pieces may stay the same, but the way I arrange them keeps changing.

Every time I revisit the past, I edit it a little. I polish certain moments, soften others, connect dots I couldn’t see at the time, and sometimes assign meaning that only exists in hindsight.

Over the years, I’ve also built a collection of stories about myself.
Who I am, what I’m capable of, what I deserve, etc.

Some of those stories have carried me forward. Others have quietly kept me stuck.

One of the unexpected gifts of getting older is that I no longer feel obligated to believe every story I’ve been telling myself.

Some deserve to be framed. Others deserve to be filed away. And a few deserve to be kicked to the curb. Would you let a stranger talk to you that way?

Yes, I’m preserving pieces of my past. But I’m also deciding which parts of my past still deserve a place in my present and my future.

I can’t change what happened. I can’t rewrite history.
But I can choose what parts of it I carry forward.

Keep calm and tell me something good!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-26 = Sean Hayes (1970- ) = American actor and comedian 🌈

• 06-26 = Virginia “Ginny” Apuzzo (1941- ) = American activist 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I am who I am. I was never ‘in,’ as they say. Never.”
Sean Hayes

Several folks have reached out over the past couple of days after noticing a shift in the tone of my daily posts.

Thank you.

I genuinely appreciate the care and concern. It means more than you’ll ever know.

The truth is, there’s been a disturbance in the Force. My Force anyway.

One of my oldest friends lost his mother on Tuesday. I learned the news yesterday.

Although she and I hadn’t been close in decades, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong before I even knew she had passed. Call it intuition. Call it coincidence. Call it whatever you’d like. All I know is that I’d been carrying around an unexplainable heaviness for the past few days.

Miss Janice was one of my last remaining mother figures.

I was sixteen when my dad died. I was forty-nine when my mom died.

Between those losses, I was blessed with a handful of adults who quietly stepped into my life when I needed them most. They weren’t trying to replace anyone. They simply showed up. With big hugs, kind words, warm meals, a listening ear, and the reassurance that I would eventually find my own way.

Miss Janice was one of those lovely people. We first met when I was seventeen.

She was warm, funny, opinionated, generous, stubborn, wonderfully complicated, and endlessly fascinating. The kind of person who leaves fingerprints on your life without ever asking for credit.

As we get older, we know we’re going to lose people. That’s simply part of the seasons of life. But knowing something is inevitable doesn’t make it any less painful when it arrives.

Each passing pulls another thread from the tapestry of our lives. Little by little, the people who knew us as children, the people who remember versions of ourselves that no longer exist, begin to disappear.

And with them go family stories, inside jokes, shared memories, old traditions, and tiny pieces of the worlds we once called home.

It’s a strange kind of grief. Not overwhelming. Not all-consuming. Just...quietly cumulative.

Over the past twenty-four hours, I’ve found myself thinking about the three little words we say so often during the grieving process that they’ve almost become automatic: Rest in peace.

I’ve heard them thousands of times. I’ve said them hundreds. We write them in sympathy cards, type them in social media comments, whisper them at funerals, and offer them as a final blessing.

They’re familiar. Comforting, even.
But this week, they’re landing differently.

Maybe rest isn’t simply the absence of life. Maybe it’s the absence of fear. The quieting of anxious thoughts. The freedom that comes from letting go of regrets, old grudges, impossible expectations, and the relentless pressure to keep proving ourselves.

Maybe peace isn’t something we only find after we’re gone. Maybe it’s something we’re meant to cultivate while we’re still here. Peace of mind. A settled heart. The ability to lay our heads on the pillow each night knowing we loved well, forgave often, laughed freely, and did the best we could with the time we were given.

Perhaps rest in peace isn’t just a farewell. Maybe it’s also an invitation.

The past year has been one of healing for me.

Rebuilding my mental and physical health has been anything but a straight line. Most mornings, I wake up, sit down at my computer, and write. Writing has become both my compass and my therapy. It reminds me where I’ve been, where I am, and where I’m trying to go next.

This week reminded me that healing doesn’t make us immune to loss.

It simply gives us healthier ways to move through it.

So if these recent posts have felt a little quieter, a little more contemplative, now you know why: I’m grieving.

Not in a dramatic, life-stopping sort of way. Just in the ordinary, deeply human way we all do when someone who mattered leaves the world.

The beautiful thing is that grief and gratitude make remarkably good traveling companions.

• I’m eternally grateful that I knew Miss Janice.

• I’m grateful for her kindness and sage advice.

• I’m grateful for the love she showed me when I needed it most.

Whether she realized it or not, Miss Janice helped shape the person I’ve become.

The best tribute I know for losses like these is to keep on keeping on. That’s what the people who loved us would want. Not for us to stop living because they’re gone, but to live a little more intentionally because they were here.

• By living well.

• By loving deeply.

• By offering kindness freely.

• And by searching for a little more peace while we’re still here.

Then, one day, when our own stories come to an end, perhaps someone will whisper those familiar words over us: Rest in peace.

Not because we finally found it. But because we spent our lives practicing it.

Keep calm and choose life!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-25 = Al Parker (1952-1992) = American adult film actor and director 🌈

• 06-25 = George Michael (1963-2016) = English singer-songwriter 🌈

• 06-25 = Larry Kramer (1935-2020) = American writer and activist 🌈

• 06-25 = Rictor Norton (1945- ) = American writer 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“You’ll never find peace of mind until you listen to your heart.”
George Michael

For the last year and change, I’ve been working hard, personally and professionally, to rebuild my life after several years of anxiety, agoraphobia, depression, and grief.

Most mornings, I wake up early, stumble to my computer, and get right to writing.

Writing helps me right myself.

Today, though, I woke up late and on the proverbial wrong side of the bed. Before my feet even hit the floor, I could feel it. That heavy emotional gravity that sometimes appears out of nowhere and threatens to pull everything into its orbit.

An emotional black hole.

I think I know what’s causing it, but for once I’d rather not overshare. A shocking development, I know. Sometimes things need to sit quietly for a while before they become public stories.

As a self-employed creative, motivation isn’t a luxury. It’s part of the job. Nobody assigns my work or tells me what to create. Every day begins with the same question:

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO MAKE TODAY?”

Some days the answer arrives before breakfast. Other days it hides out under the bed.

Over the years, I’ve learned that creativity isn’t an endless resource. It’s more like a well. If you draw from it constantly without replenishing it, eventually the water level drops. Keep drawing long enough, and sooner or later you’ll hit rock bottom.

The grind culture crowd would probably suggest working harder, waking up earlier, or finding a way to squeeze more productivity out of the day.

Maybe that works for some people. For me, the opposite is usually true.

Creative work requires fuel. Rest. Curiosity. Conversations. Books. Museum visits. Long walks. Music. Boredom. The occasional afternoon spent staring at the ceiling.

Those things aren’t distractions from the work. They are part of the work. They’re how the well gets refilled.

When I’m at my best, I remember this. I give myself room to wander, explore, and be inspired by something unexpected.

When I’m not at my best, I start measuring my worth by my output.

• How many words did I write?

• How many videos did I publish?

• How many subscribers signed up?

• How many likes did I get?

• How productive was I today?

It’s an easy trap to fall into, especially online, where everyone seems to be launching, building, scaling, growing, monetizing, and optimizing every minute of every day.

The truth is that some days simply aren’t peak performance days.

• Some days I’m tired.

• Some days I’m distracted.

• Some days my heart is carrying something heavier than my schedule allows for.

• And some days I’m just a day late and a dollar short.

And that’s okay. The work will still be there tomorrow. The inbox will survive. The algorithm will continue algorithm-ing.

What won’t survive is a creative practice that’s constantly asked to produce without being given time to replenish itself.

So today I’m giving myself permission to be a little slower than usual.

To write the words that come instead of forcing the words that don’t.

To trust that showing up imperfectly still counts as showing up.

Grinding harder isn’t always the answer.

Sometimes the answer is stepping away from the grind long enough to refill the well.

Keep calm and recharge on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-24 = Beanie Feldstein (1993- ) = American actor 🌈

• 06-24 = Christabel Marshall (1871-1960) = English educator and poet 🌈

• 06-24 = Herbert Kitchener (1850-1916) = British Army officer 🌈

• 06-24 = Pierre Commoy (1950- ) = French artist (Pierre et Gilles) 🌈

• 06-24 = Stacy Sykora (1977- ) = American volleyball player 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“All are lunatics, but he who can analyze his delusions is called a philosopher.”
Ambrose Bierce

Last Wednesday, I met a young man for lunch.

His smile lit up the restaurant. His eyes beamed with anticipation and hope. He was standing at the beginning of a new chapter, trying to build a life in a new state, find his footing, and connect with his tribe.

We cussed and discussed for hours.

The conversation was deep, flirty, and friendly. We skipped past the usual small talk and landed somewhere much more interesting. By the end of lunch, we both agreed we would like to hang out again soon.

As it turns out, “soon” meant a few days later.

We ended up spending all of Saturday together and had a blast at the diner, the art museum, and the leather store. We laughed, wandered, talked, shared stories, and enjoyed each other’s company in a way that felt refreshingly natural. Somewhere along the way, I developed quite the crush on him.

It happens.

Not often, mind you, but often enough to remind me that connection still matters.

What struck me most wasn’t his good looks, though he certainly had those. It was his open heart and mind. It was his willingness to be honest about where he was in life and the challenges he was facing. Calmly and sincerely. Despite carrying more than his fair share of worries, he approached the world with hope, kindness, and curiosity. My new friend’s light is very bright.

In my book, those qualities make someone a winner. And I’m cheering him on!

Then…life did what life sometimes does:

My new friend decided that Southern California wasn't where he needed to be right now. The decision may seem sudden, but it wasn't made lightly. I'm leaving a lot out to respect his privacy. But after much soul-searching, he realized that what he needed more than anything was the comfort of familiar faces, trusted friends, and a support system. So he chose to return home and regroup.

And yesterday morning, I had the privilege of driving him to the airport.

It was a bittersweet goodbye to our short-but-sweet bromance.

On one hand, I know it’s the right decision for him. Starting over is hard. Southern California can be wonderful, but it can also be expensive, overwhelming, lonely, and unforgiving. Not everyone finds their footing here right away. SoCal isn’t for everyone.

On the other hand, I was having so much fun getting to know my new friend.

There’s something beautiful about meeting someone who arrives in your life so unexpectedly and leaves such a meaningful impression in a remarkably short amount of time. Our friendship lasted only days in person, yet somehow felt more genuine than many connections I’ve spent years cultivating.

Maybe that’s the thing about some people.
They don’t need much time to matter.

Whether this turns out to be a friendship for a season, a reason, or a lifetime remains to be seen. My hope is that our story doesn’t end at the departure gate. I hope we continue cheering each other on from afar. I hope we stay in touch. I hope life brings our paths together again someday.

Only time will tell.

For now, I’m grateful. Grateful for the conversations. Grateful for the laughter. Grateful for the reminder that meaningful connections can appear when you least expect them.

Sometimes people enter our lives for only a moment.

And sometimes a moment is enough to leave a lasting mark. For good.

Keep calm and defy gravity!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-22 = Bob the Drag Queen (1986- ) = American drag queen and comedian 🌈

• 06-22 = Gwen John (1876-1939) = Welsh artist 🌈

• 06-22 = Jai Rodriguez (1979- ) = American actor and tv host 🌈

• 06-22 = Jennifer Finney Boylan (1958- ) = American author and educator 🌈

• 06-22 = Jimmy Somerville (1961- ) = Scottish singer-songwriter 🌈

• 06-22 = Peter Pears (1910-1986) = English tenor 🌈

• 06-22 = Václav Fischer (1954- ) = Czech-German businessman and politician 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I believe now that love is letting people in. Love is bigger than all of us.”
Jimmy Somerville

Happy Father’s Day to all who celebrate!

Whether you’re a dad, daddy, stepdad, grandfather, mentor, or father figure, today is a reminder that none of us got here entirely on our own. We’re all sons (and daughters) of men who, to varying degrees, helped shape the people we’ve become. Some did it through wisdom and encouragement. Others taught us through mistakes we’d spend years trying not to repeat.

My own father died when I was sixteen, which means I’ve now spent far more of my life without him than with him. Our complex relationship is forever frozen in time, so Father’s Day is bittersweet for me. It’s a day filled with memories, questions that will never be answered, and moments I wish we could have shared.

But it’s also a day of gratitude.

Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to encounter a handful of men who stepped into fatherly roles when I needed guidance, support, or simply someone to believe in me. They weren’t trying to replace my dad. Nobody could. They simply showed up when it mattered, offering a kind word, a listening ear, a gentle nudge, or a much-needed kick in the pants.

Looking back, I realize that fatherhood isn’t defined solely by biology. Sometimes it’s found in the people who teach us, protect us, encourage us, and help us find our footing in the world.

So today I’m remembering my father with love. And I’m honoring all the dads, daddies, fathers, and father figures who made an impression on my life, in ways big and small.

Some are gone. Some are still kicking. All of them left their mark.

Happy Father’s Day, gents. Thank you for helping us become who we are.

Keep calm and love on!
Clint 🌈✌️

ICYMI = IN CASE YOU MISSED IT

• SUNDAY = Boy George Helped Me 'Man Up'

• MONDAY = An Old Friend Is In Town

• TUESDAY = Going With The Flow

• WEDNESDAY = Sweet Dreams...Are Made Of This

• THURSDAY = We're Only Human

• FRIDAY = Pride: The Good + The Bad + The Ugh-ly

• SATURDAY = Flexibility Training

FROM THE ARCHIVE

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-21 = Faisal Alam (1977- ) = Pakistani-American activist 🌈

• 06-21 = Kate Brown (1960- ) = American politician 🌈

• 06-21 = Lana Wachowski (1965- ) = American filmmaker 🌈

• 06-21 = Meredith Baxter (1947- ) = American actor and producer 🌈

• 06-21 = Rebecca Black (1997- ) = American singer-songwriter and DJ 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“Every once in a while, when the audience is expecting to see one thing, you have to show them something else.”
Conrad Hall

Well over a month ago, I made plans to attend a queer artist convention today with an old friend of mine.

Unfortunately, my friend has been going through some stuff lately. The kind of stuff that makes a person retreat from the world for a while. Texts go unanswered. Calls go to voicemail. Radio silence.

He does this every now and then.

What he doesn't usually do is disappear when we already have plans on the books.

After a week of hearing nothing, I decided to make other plans with a new friend.

What started as a simple trip to the museum has gradually evolved into a full day out: brunch at one of my favorite spots, followed by a visit to my favorite museum with one of my new favorite people. It’s the perfect excuse to eat well, cuss and discuss whatever comes to mind, and wander through the galleries, getting my art fix.

Not a bad consolation prize.

The whole experience has reminded me that life rarely unfolds according to the script we write in our heads. Plans change. People change. Circumstances change. Sometimes through no fault of our own.

The older I get, the more I realize flexibility isn't just a useful skill. It's a survival skill.

Years ago, a canceled plan might have ruined my entire day. Maybe even my entire weekend. These days, I try to look for alternatives instead. If one door closes, I go looking for another one. Preferably one that leads to art, good food, and good company.

I'm also learning not to take these things too personally. Slowly but surely.

That can be easier said than done.

After nearly thirty years in Los Angeles, I’ve developed trust issues when it comes to making plans with other people. Experience has taught me to be cautiously optimistic, even when someone agrees to a specific time and place. Around here, plans are more like suggestions than commitments.

Even really good friends have a tendency to flake in the City of Angels.

It's one of my least favorite aspects of living here. The traffic is still public enemy number one, but the flakiness isn't far behind.

Still, I've discovered that disappointment and opportunity often arrive together. When one plan falls apart, another has room to take shape. Sometimes the new plan turns out to be even better than the original. Sometimes it doesn't.

Either way, there will be art.

And there will always be another silver lining waiting to be found, or made.

Keep calm and get your art on!
Clint 🌈✌️

NEW + NOW PLAYING

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-20 = Allan Bell (1947- ) = Manx politician 🌈

• 06-20 = David France (1959- ) = American filmmaker and journalist 🌈

• 06-20 = Donald Vining (1917-1998) = American diarist 🌈

• 06-20 = E. Lynn Harris (1955-2009) = American author 🌈

• 06-20 = Edie Windsor (1929-2007) = American activist and tech manager 🌈

• 06-20 = Errol Flynn (1909-1959) = Australian-American actor 🌈

• 06-20 = John Beresford Fowler (1906-1977) = English interior designer 🌈

• 06-20 = John Mahoney (1940-2018) = English-American actor 🌈

• 06-20 = Vikram Seth (1952- ) = Indian novelist and poet 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“It isn’t what they say about you, it’s what they whisper.”
Errol Flynn

“The public has always expected me to be a playboy, and a decent chap never lets his public down.”
Errol Flynn

I met up with a new friend for lunch yesterday. We met on Scruff, had a nice chat, and decided to meet up in person. Easy peasy. No stress. No mess.

My new friend is a handsome devil, and y'all know how much I love me some eye candy. He's also smart, thoughtful, and a recent arrival to Southern California, so we had plenty to talk about during our "getting to know you" lunch date.

Even though we met through a hookup app, we weren't there to hook up. We were there to gab and grub. During our conversation, he mentioned having been married to a woman and having relationships with men too. Naturally, my curiosity kicked in.

I don't know why it matters to me, but I've always been fascinated by how we label ourselves: Gay. Straight. Bi. Pan. Queer.

The LGBTQ community has an ever-expanding collection of labels and identities. Some people find comfort in them. Some find community through them. Some spend years searching for the one that feels like the perfect fit.

So I asked my new friend how he identifies.

His answer stopped me in my tracks: “I’m human.”

That was it.

No long explanation. No dissertation. No curated identity statement.

Just “I’m human.”

And by every piece of evidence available to me, he certainly is. As am I. As are you. As is everyone we know, regardless of race, gender, gender identity, sexuality, religion, nationality, political affiliation, or any of the other categories we use to divide and sort ourselves into groups and tribes.

The more I thought about it, the more profound his answer became.

Labels can be useful. They can help us describe our experiences. They can help us find people with similar backgrounds and interests. They can help us feel seen when we've spent years feeling invisible.

I certainly understand their value. For much of my life, finally being able to say, “I’m gay,” felt liberating.

At 53, however, I’ve come to realize labels can be used as both bridges and fences.

Sometimes labels encourage us to focus more on our differences than our similarities. Sometimes they tempt us to place people into neat little boxes when human beings are anything but neat.

Life is messy. People are complicated. Most of us are works in progress, figuring things out as we go.

The older I get, the less interested I become in putting people into categories and the more interested I become in understanding their stories.

• What makes them laugh?

• What keeps them awake at night?

• What breaks their heart?

• What gives them hope?

• What lessons have they learned the hard way?

Those answers tell me far more about a person than any label ever could.

My new friend reminded me of something simple that's surprisingly easy to forget:

• Before we’re gay or straight…

• Before we’re Republican or Democrat…

• Before we’re Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Mormon, atheist, or anything else…

• Before we’re young or old, rich or poor, native or newcomer…

We’re human. Flawed. Confused. Hopeful. Imperfect.
Trying. Learning. Growing.
Doing the best we can with the time we’ve been given.

And in a world that seems determined to divide us into smaller and smaller camps, maybe remembering our shared humanity isn’t optional. It’s fundamental.

Keep calm and human on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-18 = Agnes Goodsir (1864-1939) = Australian artist 🌈

• 06-18 = Raymond Radiguet (1903-1923) = French novelist and poet 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I used to think anyone doing anything weird was weird. Now I know that it is the people that call others weird that are weird.”
Paul McCartney

For the majority of my life, I’ve felt like Julie, the cruise director from The Love Boat. Always arranging things for other people, planning like a fiend, checking and double-checking calendars and schedules, and making sure everyone gets where they’re supposed to be when they’re supposed to be there.

While there’s certainly something to be said for being organized, there’s also a downside. In the mad dash to keep all the plates spinning, I usually end up stressing myself out. Somewhere along the way, I started believing that if I planned enough, anticipated enough, and managed enough, everything would go smoothly.

Spoiler alert: Life doesn’t work that way.

Lately, I’ve been trying something different. I’m working on "letting go and letting God," as the self-help gurus might say. It’s not easy for someone whose default setting is "control the controllable and then try to control the uncontrollable, too." But I’m discovering that some of life’s best experiences happen when I loosen my grip on the itinerary and leave room for surprises.

Yesterday, my visit with Jess turned out to be a perfect example.

The only thing I had planned was to drive up to Long Beach and spend some time with him while he was in town attending an AR/VR convention. I figured we'd grab a meal, catch up, and call it a day. What I didn't expect was that he'd be able to score me a guest pass and bring me along for the ride.

Suddenly, I found myself stepping into a world I knew very little about—a fascinating blend of technology, creativity, and imagination. Everywhere I looked, friendly, smart, talented people from around the world were exploring new ways to create immersive experiences and push the boundaries of what’s possible. It was exciting, inspiring, and completely unexpected.

Some of the guys were really, really hot too. Eye candy is so dandy!

Had I been focused on sticking to some carefully-constructed schedule, I might have missed the opportunity altogether. Instead, I simply said yes.

The lesson I keep learning lately is that not everything worthwhile can be planned.

Some of life’s best moments show up disguised as last-minute invitations, chance encounters, or unexpected opportunities. They rarely appear on a calendar weeks in advance. They simply present themselves and ask whether you're willing to be flexible enough to follow where they lead.

I’m not suggesting that we throw away our planners, ignore deadlines, or abandon responsibility. Trust me, my color-coded calendar isn’t going anywhere. But maybe there’s a middle ground between complete control and complete chaos.

Maybe we can make our plans while holding them a little more loosely.

Maybe we can leave a little white space in our schedules for serendipity and surprise.

Maybe we can stop assuming that every worthwhile experience has to be orchestrated and trust that sometimes things happen by design rather than by force.

Yesterday reminded me that when I stop trying to direct every scene, I get to enjoy the scenery and the show a whole lot more.

Keep calm and get your flow on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-16 = Henry Paget (1875-1905) = British nobleman and eccentric 🌈

• 06-16 = Jaime Manrique (1949- ) = Colombian-American writer and educator 🌈

• 06-16 = Jenny Shimizu (1967- ) = American model and actor 🌈

• 06-16 = Joe McElderry (1991- ) = British singer and model 🌈

• 06-16 = Lou Sullivan (1951-1991) = American author and activist 🌈

MAN CRUSHES OF THE DAY

“I think there are some people who are just kind of born to create drama and then capitalise on it.”
Eddie Cibrian

“It’s the game of life. Do I win or do I lose? One day they’re gonna shut the game down. I gotta have as much fun and go around the board as many times as I can before it’s my turn to leave.”
Tupac Shakur

Looking back, my high school years were mostly okay.

Sure, there were a few bullies to contend with. I was wrestling with my sexuality and doing everything I could to keep it a secret. And there was the small matter of my father dying during my junior year.

So no, my high school experience wasn't exactly a John Hughes movie.

Even so, I didn't hate high school as much as most people seem to.

Part of that was because during my senior year I applied for and was accepted into a district-wide internship program. About thirty of the top students from across the school district were brought together to learn professional skills before being placed in what were essentially our dream jobs.

For a kid who often felt like he didn’t quite fit in, this program was a game changer.

And through it, I met Jess.

Jess is a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Canadian who somehow managed to become my brother-from-another-mother almost immediately.

We met way back in 1990.
Thirty-six years ago.
That number feels impossible to type.

Over the years, life did what life does. We graduated. We moved. We built careers. We fell in love. We lost people we cared about. We moved again. We collected stories, scars, and a few gray hairs along the way.

We stayed in touch, but like many longtime friendships, there were stretches when months or even years passed between visits. The funny thing about certain friendships is that time doesn't really matter. When you reconnect, you just pick up where you left off.

I knew Jess was coming to town this month. The problem is that I forgot to put the details on my calendar. I assumed he'd text me a few days beforehand like a civilized human being.

Instead, I woke up ridiculously early this morning to a message letting me know he'd arrived safely in Long Beach last night.

Ah, straight boys.
Good thing I love this motherfucker.
And his lovely wife and kids, too.

Today, though, it’s just me and Jess. We’ll probably spend the day catching up, cussing, reminiscing, and maybe playing tourist for a few hours.

So once I hit “publish” on this piece, I’m jumping in the shower and getting my butt down to Long Beach.

• Will he even be awake? Who knows.

• Will he be annoyed when I show up? Possibly.

• Do I care? Not even a little.

Jess and I talk more regularly these days, but it's rare that we get to spend time together in person. In fact, I haven't seen him face to face since before I disappeared into the cave back in 2021, so this reunion means a lot to me.

Jess knew me before the gray hairs. Before the career twists and turns. Before social media. Before smartphones. Before Los Angeles.

Our kind of friendship is a rare gift.

Life gets busy. People move away. We tell ourselves we'll get together "soon." Then suddenly decades have passed and everyone has a few more wrinkles and a lot more stories.

Today feels like a happy surprise.

The videos can wait. The emails can wait. The to-do lists can wait.

One of my oldest friends is in town.

And it’s about damn time we caught up in real life…about our real lives.

Keep calm and carry on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-15 = Adah Isaacs Menken (1835-1868) = American actor, painter and poet 🌈

• 06-15 = Bif Naked (1971- ) = Canadian singer-songwriter and actor 🌈

• 06-15 = Neil Patrick Harris (1973- ) = American actor and singer 🌈

• 06-15 = Simon Callow (1949- ) = English actor and director 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“It’s easier for me to flirt with girls now that girls know that I’m gay. It almost makes it a sexier encounter than if I was trying to pretend that I was straight.”
Neil Patrick Harris

Like a lot of creatives, I tend to start more projects than I finish.

At this point, I have enough abandoned projects to fill a small cemetery. Maybe a large one. There are entire neighborhoods in my creative graveyard.

Unfinished essays. Half edited photo shoots. Screenplays that made it to page thirty seven before wandering off into the wilderness. Book ideas. Business ideas. Art projects. Websites. Collections. Experiments.

For at least a little while, each one felt like the thing.

You might know the feeling. The spark arrives, and suddenly you’re convinced you’ve stumbled onto your next great obsession. You spend days, weeks, and sometimes months consumed by it. You tell your friends about it. You buy supplies for it. You create folders for it. You make ambitious plans for it.

Then, almost as suddenly as it appeared, the spark fades.

Maybe I ran out of interest.

Maybe I ran out of steam.

Maybe I reached the point where the work stopped being play and started feeling like work.

Or maybe another shiny idea wandered by and stole my attention.

Whatever the reason, the project eventually joined the ever growing graveyard.

For years, I viewed these unfinished efforts as evidence of my personal and professional failures. Disciplined people finished things. Successful people finished things. “Real” artists finished things.

The older I get, however, the more I’ve started seeing things differently.

Every unfinished project taught me something.

The abandoned screenplay taught me how to write dialogue.

The half completed photo series taught me what kinds of images actually excite me.

The forgotten essays helped me find my voice.

Even the spectacular failures served a purpose. Sometimes the lesson was simply, “You don’t enjoy doing this nearly as much as you thought you would.”

That’s valuable information.

Not every creative effort is meant to become a finished product. Some projects exist to teach us a skill, reveal an interest, or occupy our attention during a particular season of life.

Their purpose isn’t always completion. Sometimes their purpose is growth.

That realization doesn’t mean I’ve stopped wishing I finished more things. There are projects in that graveyard I’d love to resurrect. Ideas that deserved a little more patience. Stories that might have become something meaningful if I’d stuck with them a bit longer.

Still, I no longer view the graveyard with shame.

Instead, I see it as an archaeological record of my curiosity.

Every unfinished project represents a moment when I got excited enough to try something. A moment when I followed an idea instead of ignoring it. A moment when I was willing to experiment without knowing whether the effort would lead anywhere.

Not all of those journeys reached their intended destination, but every one of them took me somewhere.

And who knows? Maybe some of those unfinished projects aren’t dead after all.

Maybe they’re just waiting patiently for me to wander back someday, shovel in hand, ready to do a little creative grave robbing.

Keep calm and carry on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-12 = Brian Anderson (1976- ) = American skateboarder 🌈

• 06-12 = Djuna Barnes (1892-1982) = American writer 🌈

• 06-12 = Egon Schiele (1890-1918) = Austrian soldier and painter 🌈

• 06-12 = Henry Scott Tuke (1858-1929) = English painter and photographer 🌈

• 06-12 = Jim Nabors (1930-2017) = American actor and singer 🌈

• 06-12 = Scott Thompson (1959- ) = Canadian actor and comedian 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I had a liver transplant, then I had a pacemaker put in, then I had a new knee put it, then I had a heart valve put in. I’m almost brand new. I have a lot of new parts.”
Jim Nabors

One of my favorite pastimes as I get older is the post-lunch siesta I take almost every day. Truth be told, I’ve been doing this since my early thirties. Back then, a quick 15- or 20-minute power nap could work wonders. These days, in my early fifties, those naps have a tendency to stretch a little longer. Usually an hour or two at most.

Yesterday, though, was an exception.

At around 1:15 p.m., I decided to lie down for what I assumed would be my usual “disco nap.” I closed my eyes fully expecting to wake up refreshed, recharged, and ready to tackle a few chores before dinner.

Instead, I woke up at 7am this morning. Foggy and groggy.

Not 7pm. 7am.

Somewhere along the way, my body apparently decided that the chores could wait. As could dinner, television, email, and my nightly doomscrolling session. It simply pulled the plug on the entire operation and sent me offline for the rest of the day.

Needless to say, I woke up feeling more than a little dazed and confused. I actually had to check the clock twice to make sure I hadn’t somehow slept through an entire day and wandered into an alternate timeline.

The weirdest part is that I don’t feel sleep-deprived. Sure, I’m still recovering from being sick last week and trying to get back to normal, but sixteen-plus hours of sleep feels a bit excessive. That’s not a nap. That’s a coma.

The experience left me with two questions.

1. What the actual hell?

2. If my body requires that much sleep, what is it trying to tell me?

Maybe I’ve been pushing harder than I realized. Maybe my immune system is still doing some behind-the-scenes repair work. Or maybe my body simply staged a hostile takeover after years of me insisting that caffeine could solve every problem.

Whatever the explanation, I’m choosing to view it as a reminder that our bodies often know what they need better than we do. Apparently, mine decided it needed to power down completely and install several operating system updates overnight.

Still, I’d appreciate a little warning next time.

A sticky note, perhaps. An email. Or even a pop-up notification.

“Dear Human: We will be shutting down for scheduled maintenance at 1:15 p.m. Please save your work, cancel your plans, and stop pretending you’re going to fold that laundry today.”

Keep calm and stay rested!
Clint 🌈✌️

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION

• The Forgotten Generation: How Ageism Impacts LGBTQ+ Relationships
  (Tom Buett, LMFT + Joseph Winn, LICSW)

• From Goth Twink To Tattooed Hunk w/ Hogan McLaughlin
  ( @ That’s A Gay Ass Podcast)

• Brian And Judson Hookup With ‘Blue Film’ Writer-Director Elliot Tuttle|
  (Dads + Daddies)

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-11 = Elle Pérez (1989- ) = American photographer 🌈

• 06-11 = Mario Silva (1966- ) = Portuguese-Canadian scholar and politician 🌈

• 06-11 = Renée Vivien (1877-1909) = English-French poet and author 🌈

MAN CRUSHES OF THE DAY

“I do actually like Los Angeles. Partly because I was told I wouldn’t.”
Hugh Laurie

“No sooner does man discover intelligence than he tries to involve it in his own stupidity.”
Jacques Yves Cousteau

Several of my dearest friends have been going through various trials and tribulations lately. Like much of the world, they're struggling. Hard.

As someone who's long been known as a bit of a "fixer," I've had to face a difficult reality: I'm struggling too. While working on “fixing” myself, I’m learning to walk a new and very fine line. That includes putting on my own oxygen mask first.

I’m learning how to be there for the people I love without losing myself in the process. I’m learning how to offer support without taking on burdens that aren’t mine to carry.

Thankfully, with the help of some sage advisors and a gifted therapist, I'm finally learning a few lessons and putting guardrails in place to help me avoid some of my biggest pitfalls.

After a great deal of thought, care, and more than a few difficult conversations, I'm beginning to find a path forward, one that allows me to support the people I care about while also taking care of myself.

Sorry to be vague, but I'm a protective (and proud) mama (and papa) bear. Nobody messes with my dears, nears, and/or queers without risking having their face eaten. So out of respect for everyone's privacy and mental health, the details of them and their struggles will remain private.

What I will share is this: acceptance and kindness matter more than we often realize.

Most people are carrying struggles we can’t see and know nothing about. So a little patience, a little compassion, and a little grace can make all the difference. Not just for strangers, but for our families, our friends, and ourselves.

And while you’re extending all that acceptance and kindness to others, please don’t forget to extend those gifts to yourself too, boo.

Thank you for doing your part to make the world a little more livable and a lot more lovable.

I hope you and yours feel seen, supported, and loved despite whatever challenges you're facing. And if you're struggling, please don't do it alone.

Keep calm and keep it together!
Clint 🌈✌️

P.S. If you or someone you know is going through it, help is available 24/7/365:

US/Canada: 988 (988 Lifeline)
UK/Ireland: 116 123 (Samaritans)
Australia: 13 11 14 (Lifeline)
New Zealand: 1737 (New Zealand Telehealth Services)
Worldwide Directory @ Befrienders Worldwide

NEW + NOW PLAYING

MORE IN MEN + MONTAGES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-10 = Dustin Lance Black (1974- ) = American filmmaker 🌈

• 06-10 = Frederick Kovert (1899-1949) = American actor and photographer 🌈

• 06-10 = Frederick Loewe (1901-1988) = Austrian-American composer 🌈

• 06-10 = Maurice Sendak (1928-2012) = American author and illustrator 🌈

• 06-10 = Violet Oakley (1874-1961) = American artist 🌈

MAN CRUSHES OF THE DAY

“The world is twice as crazy as it’s ever been.”
Maurice Sendak

“If you do something with acceptance and kindness, you can create a true friendship.”
Dustin Lance Black

Yesterday, Madonna, the original "Material Girl," released a new music video, I mean "film," to promote the release of her new album, CONFESSIONS II.

YouTube, apparently convinced this was something I needed to see, placed it squarely at the top of my feed. Since I hadn't paid much attention to Madonna in over a decade, I almost kept scrolling. But curiosity got the better of me.

After all, this is Madonna we're talking about.

For more than forty years, she's been one of the most celebrated and criticized entertainers on the planet. Even people who don't consider themselves fans know the songs, the looks, and at least a few of the controversies.

Like millions of gay men my age, I grew up with Madonna's music as part of the soundtrack of my life.

So I clicked.

Partly because I was curious. Partly because nostalgia is a powerful drug. And partly because, every once in a while, it's fun to revisit an artist who once occupied such a large space in your musical world.

Personally, I was willing to give the 67-year-old Queen of Pop a chance right up until the moment a group of dancers appeared with lasers apparently shooting out of their bits and butts.

At that point, I found myself asking a question that I suspect eventually catches up with all of us: Am I too old for Madonna…or is she too young for me?

It's a strange question to ask about someone whose music accompanied so many chapters of my life. I sang along to "Lucky Star," "Borderline," "Keep It Together," "Like a Prayer," "Vogue," and countless others. Even later albums like Ray of Light and the movie soundtrack to Evita had a special place in my CD collection. Back when I had a CD collection.

I remember like it was yesterday dancing the night away at Splash Bar in NYC when the “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” (Miami Mix) came out. What a night to remember!

But somewhere along the way, all the constant reinvention started to feel less exciting and more exhausting.

When Cher reinvented herself with "Believe" in the late 1990s, she did it with her tongue firmly planted in her cheek. I danced and sang along because the song was terrific and because Cher seemed to understand both the absurdity and the fabulousness of it all. She welcomed us all in on the joke. And the journey.

Madonna, in my opinion, has always taken herself way too seriously. Watching her seemingly position herself as Sabrina Carpenter's older sister when she's old enough to be her grandmother feels a bit desperate. To me anyway.

Then again, perhaps that's part of Madonna's appeal.

She has spent her entire career refusing to play by anybody else's rules, including society's expectations about what women are allowed to do after a certain age. And honestly, I admire that.

I just don't necessarily want to watch it.

I came of age during Madonna's first two decades. That's the Madonna I love. Give me the early hits all the way through Ray of Light, and I'm a happy camper. I listened off and on through the mid-2000s, but after that I mostly stuck with the old stuff.

Whenever I've sampled her newer music, I've quickly realized something that took me years to accept: I'm not her target audience anymore.

And that’s okay.

I’m comfortable with my getting older and my changing tastes. And I really don’t feel the need to have lights shining out of my crotch to command attention. Anymore. 😜

Still, credit where credit is due. Madonna and the Maverick machine know how to generate headlines and attract sponsors. Her latest partners include fashion house Dolce & Gabbana and the hookup app Grindr. Cool, I guess.

Please don't misunderstand me. I don't hate Madonna. Quite the opposite.

I love a great deal of her work, which is probably why the last couple of decades have been difficult for me to watch and, occasionally, to hear.

But maybe that's the bargain we make with artists who stick around long enough. They keep changing. We keep changing. And eventually, somewhere along the way, we discover that sometimes we're no longer sharing the same dance floor.

Keep calm and dance on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-09 = Bülent Ersoy (1952- ) = Turkish singer and actor 🌈

• 06-09 = Cole Porter (1891-1964) = American composer and songwriter 🌈

• 06-09 = Parinya Charoenphol (1981- ) = Thai boxer, model and actor 🌈

• 06-09 = Scott Kennedy (1965-2013) = American comedian and activist 🌈

MAN CRUSH(ES) OF THE DAY

“He may have hair upon his chest but, sister, so has Lassie.”
Cole Porter

Last week, before I got sick, I got a quote to sell a bunch of my old camera gear. The online quote was fair, the process seemed straightforward, and I planned to ship everything out on Friday.

And then I got sick.

The camera gear sat untouched while I spent the weekend feeling like I'd been hit by a bus. Or a truck. Or possibly both.

Meanwhile, I was being bombarded with emails from the company's AI bot.

I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but after nearly twenty years working in corporate jobs where receiving hundreds of emails a day was considered “normal,” I don't have the healthiest relationship with email.

My inbox and my emotional state have always had a suspiciously close relationship. The PTSD is real. The scars are real. The struggle to give a single fuck is sometimes very real.

As a result, if anyone, human or artificial, sends me more than a couple of emails a day, I get a little twitchy. And sometimes a little bitchy.

The modern world is overwhelming enough already. Every app wants your attention. Every company wants engagement. Every platform wants notifications turned on. Every business wants to “circle back.” I miss the AOL “You Have Mail” days where only your dearest and nearest even knew my email address.

That's probably why I've developed such a deep appreciation for simple, thorough communication. Tell me what I need to know. Tell me once. Then leave me alone.

Call me “sensitive,” my fuck budget can’t handle all this noise.

So over the course of three days, this camera reseller's automated system sent me more than a dozen emails. Some reminded me to ship my gear despite the fact that I had already told them I was sick and wouldn't be sending it until at least today. Others warned that my quote might expire. Some offered helpful tips. And a few appeared to exist solely because another email had already been sent.

They were follow-ups to follow-ups to follow-ups. If AI was so fucking smart it would know I’m not the one to be spamming. Every automated message pissed me off just a little bit more until I finally decided I was done.

Long story short: I won't be doing business with these assholes anymore.

There are plenty of companies that buy used camera gear. Surely one of them has figured out that sending fewer emails is sometimes the best strategy.

Which brings me to AI as society’s latest cure-all-that-ails-Wall-Street.

Businesses love talking about the cost savings of AI. Usually that means fewer employees, faster responses, more automation, and greater efficiency.

Some of those benefits are real. But I hope companies are also measuring the costs.

Not the software subscriptions. Not the server bills. The human costs.

The customers who quietly disappear. The prospects who unsubscribe.

Just this past week, I read a story about a company that reportedly discovered the financial downside of unlimited AI usage when an unexpectedly large bill arrived:

Uncapped Claude AI Use Leaves Firm With $500M Bill (MSN)

Oops. It's a reminder that AI isn't magic. It’s a tool. And tools cost money.

The irony is that many businesses are adopting AI in the name of improving customer experience. But customer experience isn't simply about speed. It isn't about volume. It isn't about maximizing touchpoints. It isn’t about jargon or trends.

It's about building trust.

And judging from my overflowing inbox, AI ain't exactly nailing that part.

I realize this makes me sound like some old guy yelling at windmills. Don Quixote is a classic for a reason. Every generation gets its turn. For the record, AI (and my neighborhood’s peacocks) can get off my lawn too!

But I can't shake the feeling that we're racing toward a future where every company communicates through AI, every customer service interaction starts with a chatbot, every marketing email is written by an algorithm, and every response is optimized for engagement rather than usefulness.

And frankly, I'm already exhausted by it.

Maybe AI will eventually settle into a sensible role. Maybe businesses will figure out where it genuinely adds value and where it simply creates noise.

I hope so.

Because right now, every time I read another brainless “think piece” about how AI is going to revolutionize everything, my first thought isn't excitement.

It's wondering how many emails I'm going to have to delete.

Keep calm and stay human!
Clint 🌈✌️

P.S. I’m well aware that Substack, my main platform, uses a ton of AI for its support forums and such. If you’ve gotten stuck in that holy hell, I’m sorry. I wish I was able to provide more support personally. But not only don’t I understand all of the features, I don’t have enough hours in the day to be a full-time customer support person. So I have to rely on what’s available. If you have problems, I will do my best to find a FAQ that addresses your issue.

P.P.S. Despite my cranky post above, I’m feeling a lot better today and hope to finish the montage I started last week. Today or tomorrow. Thanks for your patience!

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-08 = Donna Deitch (1945- ) = American filmmaker 🌈

• 06-08 = Kim Stolz (1983- ) = American model and tv personality 🌈

• 06-08 = Marguerite Yourcenar (1903-1987) = French novelist 🌈

• 06-08 = Mary Bonauto (1961- ) = American lawyer and activist 🌈

GIRL CRUSHES OF THE DAY

“Part of my act is meant to shake you up. It looks like I’m being funny, but I’m reminding you of other things. Life is tough, darling. Life is hard. And we better laugh at everything; otherwise, we’re going down the tube.”
Joan Rivers

“The one hit song that I have tremendous gratitude for is ‘Boots,’ because it has a life of its own. It’s like being identified with a brand name.”
Nancy Sinatra

Not long after I hit publish on Friday’s post, I was hit by something else: a wave of exhaustion.

At first, I thought maybe I was just tired. It was a busy week, and sometimes the body demands an unscheduled afternoon off. But this felt different. Within a few hours, I had gone from mildly fatigued to completely wiped out.

The result was a weekend that looked nothing like the one I had planned.

For most of the past 48 hours, I have alternated between sleeping, running to the bathroom, staring blankly into space, and wondering how it was possible to feel both exhausted and restless at the same time.

Even now, I’m not quite back to normal. Better? Yes. Fully recovered? Not yet.

So today is a recovery day. Because nobody, especially me, wants to face a relapse.

One of the things I dislike most about being sick isn’t the symptoms themselves. It’s the way illness barges into your life and starts rearranging your schedule without your permission. Plans disappear. Projects get postponed. To-do lists stop moving. The calendar suddenly becomes a list of things you aren’t doing.

And while I don’t love being sick, I really don’t love canceling plans with friends.

I had been looking forward to seeing people this weekend. As I get older, I’ve come to appreciate that those opportunities are more valuable than I once realized. Time with friends doesn’t happen automatically. It requires schedules to align, invitations to be accepted, and everyone to show up.

So when I had to send those disappointing texts and say, “Sorry, I can’t make it,” I wasn’t thrilled.

The upside is that good friends understand.

Nobody demanded proof of my illness. Nobody accused me of faking it to get out of social obligations. They simply wished me well and told me to rest.

The truth is that I have a long history of trying to negotiate with being sick. I tell myself I’m feeling better than I actually am. I convince myself I can power through. I start doing normal activities too soon, only to discover that my body has very different opinions about my recovery timeline.

Experience has taught me that healing is one of those things that can’t be rushed by sheer force of will.

If you’re sick, you’re sick. The body gets the final vote.

So instead of trying to reclaim the weekend that got away, I’m accepting the reality of the situation. Plans can be rescheduled. Work can wait another day. And as for the rest of the world? It will continue spinning without my active participation for a day or three.

And with any luck, a little extra rest today means I’ll be back on my feet tomorrow instead of spending next weekend repeating this one.

Being sick is ick.

But learning when to stop and recover is probably a lesson worth relearning every now and then.

Thank you for being a friend!
Clint 🌈✌️

ICYMI = IN CASE YOU MISSED IT

• SUNDAY = Breaking It Down vs. Breaking Down

• MONDAY = Get The (Pride) Party Started

• TUESDAY = Somewhere...Over The Rainbow (Flag)

• WEDNESDAY = Insubordination @ '60 Minutes'

• THURSDAY = All I Really Need To Know...

• FRIDAY = On Second Thought...

• SATURDAY = Happy Birthday, Mr. Fierstein

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-07 = Anne McClain (1979- ) = American engineer, officer, and astronaut 🌈

• 06-07 = Beau Brummell (1778-1840) = English cricketer and fashion designer 🌈

• 06-07 = Dean Deblois (1970- ) = Canadian filmmaker and animator 🌈

• 06-07 = James Ivory (1928- ) = American filmmaker 🌈

• 06-07 = Nikki Giovanni (1943-2024) = American poet, writer, and activist 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“I was in New York one day, and this guy ran off a bus, grabbed me, and told me that Maurice had changed his life. I’ve also had it many, many times in England.”
James Ivory

About eighteen months ago, I stopped including full frontal nudity in my montages.

Not because I’m a prude. But because I realized I might get demonetized by Stripe, the credit card processor that powers subscriptions on Substack.

As far as they’re concerned, there’s very little difference between erotica and pornography. When the company that processes your payments doesn’t like the kind of content you like to make, you have to pay attention. So I adapted.

Since I still appreciate the male form in all its glory, my NSFW videos became a lot more focused on pecs and glutes. There are worse compromises in life.

Well, as of Monday, that’s going to change. Again.

Not dramatically. Not recklessly. But enough that I wanted to give everyone a heads up and ask for your help in making this experiment a little safer:

It’s a calculated risk. But so is everything about being an independent content creator.

One of the things I love most about COLLIDE PRESS is that it’s always evolving. I’m constantly tinkering with it. Testing things behind the scenes. Paying attention to what resonates and what falls flat.

• What should I cover?

• What shouldn’t I cover?

• What deserves more attention?

• What can I leave out?

Lately, I’ve been looking at audience feedback and performance statistics with fresh eyes. What I’ve realized is that both my Substack and YouTube channel have been treading water for a while. They’re not failing, but they’re not growing either.

I’m proud of what I’ve built here, and deeply grateful for everyone who reads, watches, subscribes, and supports my work. But appreciation and ambition aren’t mutually exclusive. I love what COLLIDE PRESS has become, and I think it can become even more.

That’s why I’m experimenting.

I want to reignite some of the energy that made this work exciting in the first place. I want to challenge myself creatively. And I want to give people more reasons to share, subscribe, and support my work.

After looking at the numbers, I’m reasonably confident that a little extra skin may help some people discover COLLIDE PRESS.

But the nudity isn’t really the point. The point is freedom.

For the past couple of years, I’ve struggled with the overzealous rules and regulations on YouTube. It’s caused me to second-guess everything I do. Every upload comes with a new round of questions and possible threats. What will get demonetized? What will trigger a copyright claim? What invisible rule am I violating this time?

Over time, that uncertainty has shaped my decisions. The constant fighting with AI bots over stupid shit has exhausted parts of my brain and creative process. So I have started censoring myself before anyone else has the chance.

As a result, I find myself writing more and editing less. Leaning into the things I can control instead of obsessing over the parts and platforms I can’t.

My goal isn’t to become more provocative for the sake of being provocative. My goal is to find a healthier balance between caution and creativity. To take a few smart risks. To trust my instincts a little more. And to stop sanding off some of the interesting edges before I hit publish.

Skin ain’t sin after all. We’re all born naked. So what’s the big fucking deal?

Whether this experiment pays off remains to be seen. That’s the thing about risk and reward. You don’t get one without the possibility of the other.

In the meantime, thank you for reading, subscribing, sharing, commenting, and supporting my little corner of the internet. COLLIDE PRESS continues to evolve because of you…and I’m excited to see where the next chapter takes us.

Thank you for being a friend!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-05 = Andrew George Scott (1842-1880) = Irish-Australian folk hero 🌈

• 06-05 = Spalding Gray (1941-2004) = American writer, actor, and monologist 🌈

• 06-05 = Chad Allen (1974- ) = American actor and psychologist 🌈

• 06-05 = Federico García Lorca (1898-1936) = Spanish writer and director 🌈

• 06-05 = Geena Rocero (1983- ) = Filipino-born American model 🌈

• 06-05 = Gustáv Slamečka (1959- ) = Czech politician 🌈

• 06-05 = Johannes von Thurn and Taxis (1926-1990) = German businessman 🌈

• 06-05 = John Maynard Keynes (1883-1946) = British economist 🌈

• 06-05 = Laurie Anderson (1947- ) = American performance artist and musician 🌈

• 06-05 = Lisa Cholodenko (1964- ) = American writer-director 🌈

• 06-05 = Suze Orman (1951- ) = American financial advisor, author, and tv host 🌈

• 06-05 = Tony Richardson (1928-1991) = English film director 🌈

• 06-05 = Troye Sivan (1995- ) = Australian singer-songwriter and actor 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“To see you naked is to recall the Earth.”
Federico Garcia Lorca

Way back in 1990, when I was graduating from high school, a dear friend’s mom gave me a copy of Robert Fulghum’s All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten.

At the time, I probably didn’t appreciate what a thoughtful graduation gift it was.

Most graduation gifts are about the future. They tell you to dream bigger, work harder, climb higher, and become more. Fulghum’s book did something very different. It suggested that the most important lessons in life weren’t waiting for me somewhere down the road. They had already been taught to me years earlier.

• Share.

• Be kind.

• Clean up your own mess.

• Say you’re sorry when you hurt someone.

• Pay attention.

Those lessons sounded simple, almost embarrassingly simple. Yet the older I get, the more convinced I am that simplicity is often wisdom wearing comfortable clothes.

Fulghum’s book was a collection of personal essays about a life that looked very different from mine at the time. He wrote about family, faith, community, growing older, and finding meaning in ordinary moments.

Our experiences weren’t the same. Our backgrounds weren’t the same. In many ways, we inhabited entirely different worlds. And yet, the book spoke directly to me.

That’s one of the things I’ve come to admire most about great personal writing. The more specific a writer becomes, the more universal the message often feels. Fulghum wasn’t trying to represent everyone. He was simply telling the truth about his own life. In doing so, he gave readers room to see themselves in the story.

As a young writer, I didn’t fully understand why his essays worked so well. I just knew they did.

Years later, after writing hundreds of essays myself, I think I understand it a little better.

• People connect to honesty far more than expertise.

• They remember stories more than arguments.

• They respond to vulnerability more than perfection.

Fulghum wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He wasn’t building a personal brand. He wasn’t optimizing content for algorithms. He was simply paying attention to the world around him and sharing what he found there. Which turns out to be a durable and evergreen formula.

The book has stayed with me for more than three decades now. Not because I can quote every essay or remember every story, but because it quietly shaped how I think about life and writing.

The essays taught me that ordinary experiences are worth examining. That small moments often reveal larger truths. That humor and humanity belong on the same page. And that a writer doesn’t need to have all the answers to say something meaningful.

Most of all, Fulghum taught me that timeless wisdom doesn’t always arrive in grand revelations. Sometimes it shows up while watching people, making mistakes, cleaning up messes, and trying to do a little better tomorrow than you did today.

Looking back, I learned far more from that book than I realized at the time.

Not everything I need to know, of course. Life is far too complicated for that.

But a surprising amount.

And if I had to add one lesson to Fulghum’s original list, it might be this: Pay attention to the books that stay with you.

Books often teach you something long after you’ve finished reading them.

Keep calm and read on!
Clint 🌈✌️

FROM THE ARCHIVES

BORN THIS WAY ON THIS DAY

• 06-04 = Angelina Jolie (1975- ) = American actor, filmmaker, and humanitarian 🌈

• 06-04 = Clare Atwood (1866-1962) = British artist 🌈

• 06-04 = Val McDermid (1955- ) = Scottish author 🌈

• 06-04 = Wu Tsang (1982- ) = American filmmaker, artist and performer 🌈

MAN CRUSH OF THE DAY

“The world does not need tourists who ride by in a bus clucking their tongues. The world as it is needs those who will love it enough to change it, with what they have, where they are.”
Robert Fulghum