John Paul Brammer

The popular LGBTQ advice columnist and writer presents a memoir-in-essays chronicling his journey growing up as a queer, mixed-race kid in America's heartland to becoming the "Chicano Carrie Bradshaw" of his generation.

How to Come Out in a Walmart Parking Lot and Other Life Lessons

Hola Papi

Daniel Lindquist

I could have both lives; the reality, of course, was that I had neither.

But I didn't want to find out, because finding out would remove the possibility of what if.

Sometimes, Addicted, you have to just let a person roll down to the mouth of your driveway, turn their blinker on, and go.

What if, Loveless, memory is an act of creation? Our brains don't hold perfect records of the things that have happened, a Rolodex we can cycle through and call upon for official accounts. Maybe remembering is the same thing as imagining.

I'm not sure that person exists at all. I think there are simply important people in our lives. They don't always stay important. They don't always stick around. But the point at which we meet them, the point on the grid where our lives intersect, is a sacred thing. 

But that's one thing about life, Unapologetic. Things can always, always get worse.

That was me: a weird-ass tree that had groWn up, around, and in spite of Cache, in spite of Dillon, bending myself around obstacles ever after they had long disappeared. 

Here is the difference between two animals: wolves howl at the moon and people make up stories about the moon. We can't live without stories. 

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