Memories and photographs. Look, here I am at twelve, cutting pictures of Robby Benson out of magazines. I went through a phase when I was in love with his character from One On One. I believe I was making some sort of twisted homo collage, because I was also in love with the dog in Lady and the Tramp. Look at my little left-handed scissors with the green handles. Later when Robby had heart surgery I had some troubling scar-tonguing fantasies, and I also learned that you can't recreate the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp with people because it's just not the same. And look, here I am wearing the gold sash I won, see what it says? COCKSUCKER OF THE YEAR 1993. How proud I look. I have a special talent for looking proud and humiliated simultaneously, it comes in handy in the realm of gay relationships. There's a whole funny story about how I won that sash, remind me to tell you. Here's one of me and my ex-boyfriend Derek from just a few years ago. I never noticed how tense my smile looks in this one, like I just swallowed something terribly bitter or sucked on lemons for about three hours straight. Odd. We broke up very soon after. Oh my god, check this one out. Yes, that is me, no joke. That's my ex-boyfriend Michael and I when we went to visit his family. Isn't he cute? Five and a half feet of sweetness and, as it turned out, infuriating emotional remoteness. How happy I look, I'm almost unrecognizably happy aren't I. Happiness changes your face into something alien and grotesque, all the lines in your face magically vanish and you resemble this sort of fetus. Phew, glad those days are over, those happy days.