Johnny’s Closet has a Backdoor

And he’s thankful for it

I opened a blog last month with the intention to unload and express the old fashioned way, like cursive on a journal and ink on a sketchpad but a lot less messy. I got to read a few other blogs and felt a quiet kinship; it's been a pleasant surprise, this blogosphere thing. It's like finding out that my closet has a backdoor that leads to a free city that is part Secret Garden, part Narnia, and unapologetically gay. I could hop out of this backdoor to stretch my legs from time to time.

I have blogged under my real name at some point. However, I felt like I had so much to write about but couldn’t. I was going through funny or hot or interesting experiences but had no faerie friends to share them with. I wanted to write about that time I slept with this Sprite TVC dude who consistently stole my underwear after every tryst, how I wore my crummy beaten up bacon underwear which he stole anyway, and how that led to my realization of the liberating breeze of occasionally going commando. I couldn’t blog about it then. My friends and classmates and relatives had access to my previous blogs where I wrote as a straight guy. How fucked-up boring those blogs were. I’ve been living mostly as a straight guy and straight people can be absofuckinlutely boring most of the time. I could almost concede to the fact that their sole purpose on this planet is procreation and taxes.

I’ve met several bloggers already, but mostly before I even knew they wrote blogs. Days after being partnered, I found out that my sidekick carried a blog that shows his insightfulness and fascinating wit, giving him 5-digit pogi points that I had to factor into the pogi point matrix (painstaking but worth it). I’ve been good friends for a couple of years now with J, the person who introduced us, and it turned out he blogs too. I’ve hung out with J’s tropa a few times and I enjoyed their company before finding out that the entire group had some sort of blog. I met sidekick’s faerie friends and instantly liked them. They blog, turns out. Jessica Zafra’s Twisted series has been my staple lavatory literature even before I found out about her blog. Jessica Zafra regulates my bowels better than fiber and curdled milk, God bless her.

The pink blogosphere’s gravity is throwing the Earth out of orbit. Or maybe it’s just me that has unconsciously gravitated towards it. Why not? It is a free city that is part Secret Garden, part Narnia, and unapologetically gay.