I’m too gay for the straight scene.
I’m too flabby for the gay scene.
I’m too downtown for uptown.
I’m too uptown for downtown.
I’m too trashy to fit in with other journalists.
I’m not trashy enough to fit in with other gossip writers.
I’m too new school for print.
I’m too old school for web.
I’m too messy to sit at a table.
I’m too prissy to sit at the counter.
I’m too young for theater.
I’m too old for nightclubs.
I can’t drive, play sports, flaunt fancy clothes, work out, lay in the sun, cook, or make small talk.
I float through every scene, looking for connections while fully knowing my place is somewhere on the outskirts.
I’m everyone’s second best friend.
And I’m here, I’m still here…