C.R. Knight: I Hate Being a Sissy

Yeah I said it.  I hate being a sissy! No matter how much we sugar coat it, glamorize it, mesmerize it and fantasize it, it is still the worst.  I've grown to accept who I am, as much as I have tried time and time again to change myself to something more mainstream, but it never works. Its like fixing a leaky pipe with a band aid.  It's a temporary fix.  But at the end of the day, I am still gay!

I can't live my true self out in the open without residing in a major gay city and even then, it is limited to certain areas.  The world doesn't want homosexuals in it. While, there would be a huge missing if we weren't.  Who would do the hair and make up?  Who would decide on the latest fashion trends and fads?  Who would come up with the most creative ad campaigns and music videos?  What a great portion of the world doesn't know is that there is likely a homo making decisions that shape their world. Yet their ignorance allows them to hate.

While I embrace individuality, I hate when gay men do outrageous things drawing attention to themselves making it harder for the rest of the population to breathe easy.  Drag queens, I will never understand.  There is this hunger to dress and act like a woman, but it still gets trapped within a community of misfits who sit around heckling at their bafooned antics.  What's the point?

And then there is that fucked up STD that there is no cure for, yeah HIV that's it.  Whoever created that virus knew that they would soon infect and erradicate a good portion of the gay community.  Little did they know that two timing men, who like a bit more than the traditional vagina monologue every now and then, would dip or be dipped into an infected man and pass it along to his lady friend.  Its all fucked up.  People just don't care.

I just hate being a sissy!

Good Knight!

My Fat Ass Mama by C.R. Knight

 I like cheese doodles, Coca-cola, lemon heads and Snickers.  That's right, junk food.  I was practically raised on it.  How was I supposed to know that because of all the compounded sugar that I've eaten over the years, that I would some day be overweight?

Let me tell you about my fat ass mama.  My fat ass mama used to carry a big purse always stocked with some sugary sweet or salty snack.  I grew up an only child and pretty much always got what I wanted.  I remember waking up on Saturday mornings to watch my favorite cartoons while chomping on sometimes two or three bowls of cereal.  Mama would sometimes yell at me if there was no milk for her when she woke up.  Crunch Berries and Apple Jacks provided me with a healthy well-balanced breakfast. NOT!  I would wonder why I had to see the dentist several times a year.  It was so that he could drill holes in my mouth to fill my cavities.  I remember having a cherry jolly rancher.  Actually I had a whole bag of them, they were only five cents a piece and I had a dollar!  I took that dollar and told the China man to fill my bag with red and green.  Cherry jolly ranchers are the best!  So there I was, tongue all red from having sucked on a few pieces and then my cousin Leroy dared me to bite it.  So I did and that was when one of my back teeth shattered.  It was so painful.  The only thing the dentist could do was drill it down and cover it with a crown.

I have no problem admitting that I am morbidly overweight especially since I have someone to blame it on.  Two of my friends (skinny bitches) and I went to see Precious.  Big mistake!  I knew that was a movie that I should have either waited for the DVD or gone to see alone.  As always, I packed a lunch.  Movies are expensive enough as it is without adding six or seven dollars for buttered popcorn and a drink.  And besides, I wanted the leftover lasagna that I had in the fridge. Thanks to my fat ass mama, I've been sneaking food into the movie theater since I was eleven years old.  She didn't care about the people around us squirming when she pulled out pickled pigs feet and barbeque pork rinds.  I was so embarrassed.

After watching Precious, I waddled behind my two skinny friends and just as I had expected, the taunts started.  Mostly from immature little black boys with no home training.  I tried my best to ignore them, but it didn't work.  I rushed home to cry into my pillow as I have often done before.  Its time to change.  Ever since my fat ass mama died of diabetes, I've decided to lose weight.

We shall see.

What makes a serial killer?

It's been a roller coaster ride of a year.  I can't believe it's almost over.  So, I've been working on THE NOVEL and so many things have been coming out of me.  It's truly amazing how the brain works.  My very good friend Karen Minors, (author of "It Is What It Is"),  were having a conversation about our journeys in writing and she suggested that I take a look at documentaries about serial killers.  Initially, I thought to myself, why?  But after watching a few Youtube videos, I was mentally blown away.  The things these people did.

Watching these videos allowed me to dive deeper into the lead character of my upcoming novel.  I'm pretty sure that when people read this novel, they will wonder what was roaming through my twisted mind, but I go to very dark places sometimes.

Check out my one of my favorite serial killers.  Jeffrey Dahmer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMlLYYO4DS0

What's Your Secret? C. R. Knight

Dear Diary:

Sometimes I wonder why I even sit still long enough to tell you anything.  I was so pissed at myself for reading 58 pages from a diary from 2001.   My life was a f&cking mess back then.  My third grade English teacher was the one who insisted that we all keep a journal.  I did for a while back then, but I got bored.

The secrets I write on these pages are wicked.  Everybody has something that they don't want others to know.  We have all done something that we are ashamed of or embarrassed to share.  Without saying any names, I've decided to come clean...  Back in 2001, I went away on a weekend trip with a very close friend's boyfriend.  Back then, I came up with every reason why it was okay, but I knew the entire time that it was wrong.  He lured me to Las Vegas with a first class plane ticket and a chauffeured Town Car.  I was young.  Youngins love that crap and older men know it.  I will never forget getting away with that.

I've decided to ship the rest of my diaries to my mother because I seriously want to bury some of those deep dark secrets.  It's time for new discoveries.

Good Knight.