Author Archives: Joel Derfner

Okay, so I’m having this reading tomorrow at Barnes & Noble. It’s my first public appearance as a haiku author, and while I have some idea of what I’m going to do, or at least how to fake it, I’m still kind of freaking out and nervous and excited and proud and brimming with all sorts of emotions about the whole thing.

And E.S. isn’t coming.

He says he’s “on overnight call” at the “hospital” and has to stay there to “take care of” his 17 “patients” who are “mentally ill.”

This all sounds like hogwash to me. His priorities are obviously drastically misplaced.

So my question to you is: how should I punish him?

N.B.: This is today’s second post.

Oh, all right, I might as well.

The person who has never been seen in the same room as I has been interviewed at Gothamist by the lovely and talented Rachel Kramer Bussel.

I must say, though he’s not a bad-looking guy, I think I’m much funnier than he is.

On Saturday night E.S. and I went to Margaret Cho’s Assassin; it was the first time we’d ever seen her live, and we shrieked with laughter through the entire thing.

Far more deeply satisfying, however, was going to the bathroom before the show started and seeing a man with whom I’d gone on a date over three years ago and who was the subject of my very first blog post ever. I had a great time on the date. He, evidently, did not, as evidenced by his rejection of me in an email in which he did not capitalize the first-person singular pronoun.

And on Saturday, he looked terrible. He hadn’t gotten fat, but his face was so lined and haggard and droopy as to suggest years spent wandering in the desert in search of the Promised Land.

Far be it from me to suggest that he had the Promised Land within his grasp and that his present desiccation is merely the natural result of his failure to do anything about it when he had the chance.

I feel kind of lame using this blog as a platform for publicity whoring, so I’m going to do my best to keep it to a minimum.

That being said, this coming Thursday, May 26, at 7:00 p.m., I’ll be doing a Gay Haiku reading/Q&A/book signing at Barnes & Noble on 6th Avenue at 22nd Street in Chelsea.

The event should last for about a half hour. Given that if I read for twelve minutes I would go through the entire book, I obviously need to mix it up a little bit. (I can’t believe I just wrote “mix it up,” but I did. Soon enough I’ll be saying things like “bling” and then all will be over.) So I’m not exactly sure what’s going to happen. Perhaps I’ll have a meltdown in front of everyone and curl up in the fetal position and my psychiatrist boyfriend will have to hospitalize me on the spot.

So if you’re interested in seeing that, come to Barnes & Noble at 6th and 22nd on Thursday at 7:00.

Also, Carolyn McCormack didn’t look a day older than she did on her first appearance on Law & Order in 1990.

Whatever she’s taking, I want some.

Cons of teaching three step aerobics classes and one body sculpting class in a day:

1. By the end of the day your scapular muscles will be so tight as to keep you in constant agony and force you to swallow twelve aspirin between midnight and 8:00 a.m. the next morning.

Pros of teaching three step aerobics classes and one body sculpting class in a day:

1. Carolyn McCormack, who plays Dr. Elizabeth Olivet on Law & Order, will come to the body sculpting class. You will be so thrilled that during class you will say things like, “You can do these pushups on your knees or on your nose” instead of “on your toes” and then have to correct yourself. You will rush up to her afterwards and stutter breathlessly that you love her work. She will thank you and tell you it was a great class.

I wonder how many classes in a row I’d have to teach before Chris Meloni came to one of them.

But the agony my muscles would suffer would be worth it, just to see him exercise his glutes.

Not too long ago I started keeping a blog over at a web site called Plenty, the online arm of a magazine about how to live an environmentally friendly life without becoming a total freak.

Those of you who know me will doubtless be incredulous that I am keeping a blog about the environment. You won’t be the only ones. I myself am pretty incredulous, as I hate the environment. However, the way I feel about the environment is not too different from how Winston Churchill felt about democracy; that is, that it was the worst form of government except for every other form of government. Not that the environment is the worst form of government except for every other form of government. Oh, you know what I mean.

In any case, Being Green is intended to chronicle my attempts to live at least a mildly sustainable life without ever eating tofu or hugging a tree. Take a gander, and see what you think.

Friday night, on the subway home from E.S.’s apartment, I was subjected once again to the homeless guy who tells Michael Jackson jokes. These are never, ever funny. He asks questions like, “Why does Michael Jackson always arrive late?” and, even though no one evinces any interest in the answer, follows quickly with “Because he likes to come in a little behind.” Then he jingles the coins in his cup three times and goes on to another joke, about what Michael Jackson and a Catholic priest have in common, or what Michael Jackson ordered from the Chinese restaurant.

But the thing is, Friday night there were three people sitting together on the subway car eating it up. They laughed harder with each joke he told. I hated them and wanted terrorists to have planted a bomb on the car just so that they would be fatally pierced by the shrapnel.

And then they left the car without giving the guy any money.

I was so offended by the behavior of everyone involved that I got off the subway immediately and inhaled two slices of pizza, thereby ruining my diet.

Which just made me hate them all even more.

Everyone must go immediately to Gay.com or Planet Out and look at the divine Gay Haiku slideshow.

The photographs made me laugh out loud at the haiku, which is quite a feat, given that I wrote the damn things.

I’m trying to figure out why it is that I haven’t found a single contestant on Top Model truly compelling since Yoanna from season two, which was the first season of the show I watched.

And why it is that I haven’t found a single contestant on American Idol truly compelling since Fantasia Barrino and Jennifer Hudson from season three, which was the first season of the show I watched.

The parallel is frightening. Am I destined never to be excited by a reality TV show after my first time watching it?

Of course, it could be worse; I could feel the same way about sex.