FIRST OF ALLL … . . HAMMMM! LET THE TRUTH BE SPOKEN BEAUTIFULLY marc4marc: I’m working really hard to understand the logic behind doing this Interview Magazine underwear shoot with straight models like River Viiperi on grindr.  Jk, I understand the logic—I just don’t want to. Like, I get it. I’m a gay man. I have man lust. For men. And if you frame a product as silly as super expensive underwear with a dude I can desire then I’m gonna pay attention and if you frame it in a way that I can almost imagine that I could sleep with said dude then I’m going to really pay attention.  But here’s the thing: I’m tired. I am so so so tired of being gay baited by every industry every time I turn around. I get it capitalism, I do. You’ve discovered what you always wind up discovering in the end. That niche markets that have been previously alienated were actually untapped dollars the entire time. In this particular case maybe a great deal of untapped money. But if you want my money then you really ought to understand that desire is exhausting.  Trust me, capitalism, I get it. I get the affective circuit achieved between money and desire. But what marketers don’t seem to understand is that I have been locked into a dangerous relation with my own desire since I was in third grade. The slight of hand you’ve produced here (and elsewhere) doesn’t titillate me—it makes me wary. It makes me feel like I’m in middle school again; always sneaking glances.  I don’t want to see more straight men. I don’t. I’ve desired enough straight men for this lifetime. If you want my money, if you want my consumable affect, you’ll have to dig way down deep and monetize a genuinely queer narrative. No more pretending, no more bait and switch. Find that weird queer kid you have writing ad copy and promote him to art director. Not another Reichen or some “A-Lister” who apes the dominant narrative. Bring me your Juliana Huxtable’s, your Suzy’s, your Josh’s, your Kyle’s, your Kim Funk’s. Give me your most corrosive queer elements. They’re there already, working in your offices—passing you on the street. But don’t do this anymore. Trust and believe: I’m tired.  I know you can do it capitalism. I believe in you. 

FIRST OF ALLL … . . HAMMMM! LET THE TRUTH BE SPOKEN BEAUTIFULLY

marc4marc:

I’m working really hard to understand the logic behind doing this Interview Magazine underwear shoot with straight models like River Viiperi on grindr. 

Jk, I understand the logic—I just don’t want to. Like, I get it. I’m a gay man. I have man lust. For men. And if you frame a product as silly as super expensive underwear with a dude I can desire then I’m gonna pay attention and if you frame it in a way that I can almost imagine that I could sleep with said dude then I’m going to really pay attention. 

But here’s the thing: I’m tired. I am so so so tired of being gay baited by every industry every time I turn around. I get it capitalism, I do. You’ve discovered what you always wind up discovering in the end. That niche markets that have been previously alienated were actually untapped dollars the entire time. In this particular case maybe a great deal of untapped money. But if you want my money then you really ought to understand that desire is exhausting. 

Trust me, capitalism, I get it. I get the affective circuit achieved between money and desire. But what marketers don’t seem to understand is that I have been locked into a dangerous relation with my own desire since I was in third grade. The slight of hand you’ve produced here (and elsewhere) doesn’t titillate me—it makes me wary. It makes me feel like I’m in middle school again; always sneaking glances. 

I don’t want to see more straight men. I don’t. I’ve desired enough straight men for this lifetime. If you want my money, if you want my consumable affect, you’ll have to dig way down deep and monetize a genuinely queer narrative. No more pretending, no more bait and switch. Find that weird queer kid you have writing ad copy and promote him to art director. Not another Reichen or some “A-Lister” who apes the dominant narrative. Bring me your Juliana Huxtable’s, your Suzy’s, your Josh’s, your Kyle’s, your Kim Funk’s. Give me your most corrosive queer elements. They’re there already, working in your offices—passing you on the street. But don’t do this anymore. Trust and believe: I’m tired. 

I know you can do it capitalism. I believe in you.