Those of you who live in Portland have probably already caught wind of the media blitz I have, once again, found myself in with regard to my ongoing small group dialogue project between members of the queer community and members of the Mars Hill Church. After this past week’s vandalism and threats (video below) Pastor Tim and I decided to go on OPB’s “Think Out Loud” today and talk about our experience together thusfar. It first aired this morning live at 9:00am and will air once more again this evening at 9:00pm, so tune in!

You can download the MP3 HERE.

If you care to catch up on everything that happened to get us here this week, follow the links and watch the video below:

Q Center’s Executive Director Speaks Out Against Threats of Violence
KGW News (NBC)
Fox 12 News
PQ Monthly (Article 1)
The Christian Post
PQ Monthly (Article 2)
The Oregonian
The Portland Mercury
KOIN 6 (CBS)
Rev. Chuck Currie

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 4/18/2012)

I went to see filmmaker Lee Hirsch‘s new documentary, Bully, this past weekend, and even now, days later, I still find myself deeply affected. When I say that, I’m speaking not so much about the film (although it was beautifully made and completely moving) but to the extreme heartache I have felt since watching it. I started sobbing about 30 seconds into the movie and didn’t really stop until the following morning. I cried for the parents who have lost their children to bullying, I cried for the bullied subjects in the film, and I cried for myself, having gone through an amplified version of all of this years ago.

Yesterday, after reading reports of yet another 14-year-old queer kid being bullied to death in America, this time in Iowa, the feeling turned once again from sadness to anger. My own growing-up-gay-in-the-Midwest story reads like some sort of fucked-up textbook for how LGBT kids come into the world, how we maneuver through, and often how we go out. The torture I suffered at the hands of my peers as a closeted child and then as an out teenager is one that is shared by many in the community. In reality I was quite lucky to have survived back then, although I almost didn’t survive the years that followed.

I took in violence as a young man like a sponge takes up water. It came in many forms, but I always did the same thing with it: I absorbed it and made it part of me, every mean thing anyone ever called me believed, every punch thrown my way shaped into my being. I spent years reacting to other people’s hate in a variety of colorful ways, living out the disappointment of everyone who had ever known me in real time. I was driven by uncontrollable rage, crippling fear, and a sense of mourning for the person everyone else thought I should be but whom I knew I would never become. Over time I grew used to the abuse, said goodbye to my sweetness, and let the violence take me over.

Even as an adult I am still dealing with this very old idea about myself and a world that says that I am nothing; that I somehow deserve to taste blood in my mouth, because I am not actually a person; that I need to hide in order to stay alive. To this day, when I encounter homophobia, my first reaction is often to fight; sometimes the motivation is to protect myself or the man I love, but sometimes it’s because I just want to see that look of surprise on the face of some mouthy jock who didn’t expect this particular weak, pussy-faggot to be scrappy and fight back. I’ve spent countless hours in therapy working on this very thing, but having spent my formative years defending myself both physically and emotionally, it’s sometimes hard to turn that survival reflex off.

Just this past weekend, as we walked by a group of meathead bro-dudes with tribal tattoos and spray tans, one of them mocked what I had said to my boyfriend as we passed, only he did it in full-blown sissy voice. I stopped. My initial instinct was to pull my keys out of my pocket, throw them at the back of his head, and scream something insane at him as I charged them from behind, but I chose instead to tell my boyfriend about what I felt like doing, did my best to shrug it off, and we kept on walking in the opposite direction. A few years ago this would have ended very differently for both of us. It’s no surprise, though. Bullies have been driving sweet, gentle queer kids to anger and violence for ages.

No one should be made to feel in danger or tortured by others at any point in their life. This is not some “rite of passage.” I believe we have an immediate responsibility as a people to take care of our young, no matter what our individual beliefs are about sexual orientation or gender. I encourage you to watch Bully as a first step, and to seek out ways of getting involved in making a difference for young people (particularly LGBT youth and young adults) in your community. Saying “kids will be kids” and dismissing the violence is too easy. So long as we turn a blind eye to the people who need us most, we will continue to have their blood on our hands. Together we can stop this. Nothing is ever as hopeless as it seems.

Watch the Bully trailer:

For ideas on how you can help put an end to bullying, visit stopbullying.gov.

For a youth help line, visit 121help.me.

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 4/6/2012)

I don’t do well with death. My coping skills are still lacking around anything related to loss in general, actually — but death, I just… can’t. It’s been this way since I was a boy. The idea that everyone I have ever loved will someday be taken from me (or I from them) terrifies me and is a concept I have largely refused to look at for as long as I can remember. Death, in my personal psychology, as in life, is the final frontier.

This week when I got the call from my broken-hearted mother that her sweet sister, who had fallen ill with a mysterious condition a few months ago, was being moved from hospital to hospice, I was overcome with sorrow. My usually manageable, small, wooden feelings about death and loss were suddenly made large, alive and uncontrollable. What I am most afraid of was here, once again, greeting me head-on in the living room. I turned back into the terrified child version of myself that lives inside me while my mother and I cried on the phone together. During the really hard parts I tried not to hear what she was saying, and instead focused on the sound of my own sobbing. It didn’t work. I took in every painful word.

My brain absorbs news like this in slow motion. It hits me in tearful waves, fades to the background, then jumps out again at the strangest times. I feel a deep connection to this planet by way of my family and the love we all share for each other, and I am sad that some of that love might be moving to another part of the universe. I’m selfish in this way. I want to keep all of you close forever. Anything else just seems too cruel to imagine and, well…This has been my reality for three days now.

A few years ago I was given a book called To Bless the Space Between Us, by John O’Donohue. I have pulled it out a few times over the years when I can’t find ways of relating to the world, and it has helped me form thoughts around some of the stuff I’m just no good at thinking about. This week was one of those times. In a passage about death from the book, O’Donohue writes:

“From the moment you were born,
Your death has walked beside you.
Though it seldom shows its face,
You still feel its empty touch,
When fear invades your life,
Or what you love is lost
Or inner damage is incurred.

That you would gather yourself
And decide carefully
How you now can live
The life you would love
To look back on
From your deathbed.”

I know my aunt has lived a life she loves to look back on, and I am proud to know her and call her one of my own. I go in and out of feeling like it’s just too hard to love, to be apart of, to care. There is some scared part of me that has always wanted to just get it over with now, push everyone away, be part of nothing, care for no one… But that doesn’t work, either. I’ve tried. Ultimately, the only comfort I can find in someday losing everyone I have ever loved is knowing that the people I love know how much I love them while they are here.

I encourage you to pull your people close and tell them how much they mean to you before the day is through. Love is what matters. The rest is just a distraction from the inevitable.

Follow Logan Lynn on Facebook: www.Facebook.com/LoganLynnPDX
For more by Logan Lynn on Huffington Post, click here.
For more on death and dying, click here.
For more on emotional wellness, click here.

I almost died four years ago this week, and tomorrow is the fourth anniversary of my younger brother Landon saving my life.

After a 16 year battle with drugs and alcohol I was taken over completely in 2007 and it nearly killed me. I locked myself in my house and began to smoke rock cocaine and drink vodka around the clock. I rarely left. This went on for months and I spent $67,000.00 on my addiction during that final year. I overdosed on two occasions, and I was headed for death. I wish I could say I was so messed up that it didn’t register, but it did. I knew what I was doing this time; I just didn’t care. No one could stop me.

On March 22nd, 2008 someone did manage to stop me, though. My little brother Landon burst into my living room with his wife Ashley unannounced to “get me help”. I had passed my lowest point weeks before and was spiraling toward the end by the time they got there. My entire junky setup was on display in front of me and there it was; the truth. ALL of it. There was a thick layer of cocaine smoke in the air and I remember yelling out something like “Don’t come in here if you’re pregnant” to my sister-in-law. I was in a state.

I looked like a dying man because I was a dying man. Ashley looked afraid when she saw me. My brother did, too. This made me feel afraid, and in that moment, my sweet brother’s fear and love and hopes for my future somehow reached me. He took me by the arm and put me in the car and we went to the hospital. When we got there he had to use force to get me to go in but he managed to get me into the building, admitted, and the rest is history.

The past four years have been the most wonderful gift. I have come back to myself, back to this world, back to my family; and I’ve found love and joy that I would have never found had I not made it through. There are still moments when who I was before shows up in my present day, but I am not afraid of that person. He was a person, too. A very sick, sad person who needed help.

The truth of my story is hard sometimes. I certainly wish I hadn’t done many of the things I did during my addicted years, but I am empowered by that same, scary truth. I am not ashamed of having overcome the circumstances of my life, and I am proud to be here today as a result of hard work and the goodness of others who have given me the opportunity to start over.

I saved my little brother’s life when we were young boys, and he returned the favor when we were grown men. Now, years later, I am still moved by his bravery. To stand up to me like that in my darkest hour; to come find me when I had shut him out; to physically maneuver me toward safety; that must have all been so scary…but he did it, and I am here today as a result.

Thank you, little brother, for showing up when I needed you. You got there just in time.

…and thank you to everyone who loved me then, who loves and cares about me now, and who keeps reminding me of just how lucky I am to be here. This world is beautiful because of you.

xo,
Logan

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 3/21/2012)

Like many of you, I was shocked Monday night when, on RuPaul’s Drag Race, Ru announced that one of the contestants, Willam Belli, had broken the rules and was being disqualified from the competition. (That’s right. I love TV. Deal with it.)

Oddly enough, I had scheduled an interview with Willam last week, before the bomb dropped, for a second installment of my HuffPost blog “Queer Celebrities Need Love, Too,” but after watching the show I decided to throw out all those questions.

My chat with Willam from yesterday (the day after all the drama) is below.

Hey, Willam. Tough night, huh? What happened, girl?

Well, I checked the Internet to find out why I was disqualified, and this is what my NancyDruPaul skills could come up with:

1. I was on heroin, and that’s how I was able to be so calm when Phi Phi yelled at me.
2. I went out drinking the night before, and that’s why I vomited onstage.
3. My favorite reason: I was on hormones to become a woman, and they found out during the lie-detector test — ’cause you can obviously see how delicate I’ve become, with all my soft features and this friggin’ man jaw.
4. I apparently slept with Pit Crew Jason, because he’s in my new “Chow Down (at Chick-fil-A)” video.
5. I enjoyed the Internet, or went shopping, or had sex with cast or crew.

The Internet thinks you’ve been really busy! Good times. You didn’t look very surprised when the announcement that you were being asked to leave the show was made. Had you been told in advance of the taping, or did you find out onstage?

Well, I was the one who admitted to the producers without prodding that I broke rules — multiple times, in fact. I wasn’t caught doing anything. One of the days just happened to be on a duet challenge, so I knew that it would be a going-down-in-a-blaze-of-glory moment should they choose to act on it (and they did). I’m glad they let me sing, though, because Latrice and I were the best, and her being partnerless in a duets challenge would’ve been weird. How about this: I’ll tell the world exactly what I did when I win the NewNowNext Award for Most Addictive Reality Star. I’ll announce it right up onstage. So go vote, or else the world may never know (cue ominous music).

Deal! Honesty is a pain in the ass sometimes. Good work, though. Better to out yourself than be outed. I do love a drag queen who can plug, as well. Speaking of drag queens, had you not been eliminated, who would your biggest competition have been for that final spot?

Jiggly Caliente.

Riiight. Well, who are you rooting for now?

Michelle Visage (#hausofvisage).

Way to plead the fifth creatively, love. How are people taking the news so far? I’m sure you’re getting blasted with questions.

The news is good! But it is nice to know my solo works got almost as much attention as my disqualification just 24 hours before. “Chow Down (at Chick-fil-A)” was posted by HuffPost and lots of other mainstream media outlets, based on the fact that it’s a current issue and it’s truly a protest song. Granted, it’s not like some “we shall overcome” shit, but it does have a message that I think is lacking in my generation of gays, about speaking up more, activism, and volunteer efforts. I do not need a 90-year-old Baptist billionaire judging who I get with when his spicy chicken sandwich gave me the bubble guts for two days.

Yeah, down with Church of Christ mall chicken! I couldn’t agree with you more about wanting our generation of queers to rise up and make the world a better place. Thank you for messaging that out! Overall, are you glad you decided to do the show?

Yes. Of Course.

That’s good to hear! I’m glad you did the show, too. We were rooting for you at my house. What are you up to now?

I’m working on a video with Chi Chi LaRue for “Trouble,” my dance single, and prepping to shoot a film all about the ’90s porn scene, Joey Stefano, and Chi Chi LaRue in Los Angeles. The writer, Chad Darnell, is in the process of securing funding now, and I’ll be playing porn legend Geoffrey Karen Dior, with Missi Pyle (recently seen in The Artist) as Sharon Kane. I’m also appearing in Neighborhood Watch this summer, opposite Ben Stiller and Billy Crudrup, July 27.

I love Chi Chi! Condragulations! Sounds busy! If you could change one thing about your time competing, what would it be?

I would have liked a stand-up comedy challenge.

Who was your favorite judge, dear?

I can’t pick one. Kelly for telling me to “fuck off” because of my body, and Pauley Perrette for co-signing the accolades. BillyB and Santino for their candor. Cassandra Peterson and Pam for even bringing their iconography into the same room as us. Ross Matthews and Loretta were everything. Loretta dished on her understudy for Dreamgirls back in the day on a break, and it’s not printable, but she’s hilarious. RuPaul is, of course, my fave if it came down to it. Michelle was a tough critic, but it always was clear it was coming from the right place. She’s the biggest supporter of all queens.

I think you are hilarious, and I wish you all the best, Willam. Anything you’d like to leave us with?

“Trouble,” my dance single, is now available on iTunes, along with “Chow Down (at Chick-fil-A)” and “The Vagina Song.” You know, it’s weird. I played hookers on television shows for all those years, and now I’m pimping myself. Lateral move, much?

Well played, queen. Well played.

Now…watch Willam’s video for “Chow Down (at Chick-fil-A)”:

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 3/8/2012)

Most of the working musicians I know have been paying close attention to the real-life drama unfolding in the file-sharing world lately. That’s not to say all of said working musician friends agree with what I am about to say here, but the majority of them do (whether they will publicly admit it or not). Between the outcry around proposed government anti-piracy initiatives, the recent Megaupload arrests, and multiple file-sharing sites shutting down or drastically (and rapidly) adjusting their policies in the days since, there is a full-blown, game-changing spectacle underway.

The music industry has been ravaged by the digital age, the primary culprit being illegal file sharing on websites with practically zero regulation. The past two decades have been something of a Wild West on ye olde Interwebs. No rules, no accountability. By the time the music industry reacted to what was happening, it was too late.

While performing at and attending the CMJ music conference in New York City in fall 2009, I learned that at that time, 91 percent of all new music was downloaded illegally over the Internet instead of purchased. Since then, things have only gotten worse. Record stores are closing, music rags are shutting down, and the glory days of rock and roll are over… which I actually don’t give even half a shit about. In fact, I’m glad the music industry got destroyed. It was fucked-up anyway, so who cares? Poor (filthy rich) record executives making hundreds of millions of dollars on the backs of artists. Boo-hoo. I’m crying for you. Really. I am.

My beef is not that I feel bad for record labels or the talentless hacks who run them. I think it’s good that the overall priorities in the entertainment industry have been forced to change and that the powers that be have had to reexamine what it means to be of value to their consumer base. What pisses me off is having over 91 percent of my personal intellectual property stolen, often before it even has the chance to be finished and released to the world. As a professional musician, a lot of time, hard work, and money goes into making a record. As an independent musician, that money comes directly out of my own pocket. Being a starving artist honestly isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anymore, people, and getting ripped-off has always sucked.

Even when I was on a major label, I got totally screwed because so much money was put into the recording, printing, PR, and distribution side that trying to recoup from consumer sales based on that 9 percent of people obtaining the album legally was almost impossible. Everyone had the record months before it came out anyway, because of file sharing. The week before it was released, one site that posted download counts on files reported over 18,000 illegal downloads of my record before my lawyer had them take the file down. That alone comes out to $180,000 — for my songs — of which I saw $0. My record deal was a 90/10 split at the time, but guess what 90 percent of $0 is? You guessed it! Still $0.

Think of it this way: if you were a painter and were putting the finishing touches on your pieces for a show, wouldn’t you be upset if someone broke into your studio, took your unfinished paintings, and hung them in their public gallery without your permission? Let’s say you had some finished work hanging for sale in your own space, but every time someone saw something they liked, they removed it from the wall, tucked it under their arm, and left without paying for it? What if 100 people came to your show opening and 91 of them decided to steal one of your paintings off the wall? Then what? Paint faster to keep up with the demand? Really focus in and cater to those remaining nine do-gooders so you can pay your bills and eat? Is it really up to those few people who still believe stealing is wrong to support the entire industry? It surprises me that honest, everyday people who tip servers well and are willing to pay hundreds of dollars for a pair of jeans think it’s perfectly fine to steal music — and not just a little music, but tons of it. Something’s off here. Way off.

I know this is the part where all the kids and hipsters start to roll their eyes and say things like, “You just don’t get it, grandpa,” and, “It’s freedom of speech,” but I don’t actually believe that stealing my intellectual property is your constitutional right. Sorry, everybody. I get that you are used to consuming music like it’s chewing gum, but those days are numbered. I’m glad that file sharing companies are getting shut down, and I’m happy that the people who have been stealing from me and my fellow record-makers all these years are going to pay for their crimes (or at least stop doing illegal piracy facilitation business as usual). Organizing a $180,000 heist would get you sent to prison in real life, so what’s the difference?

Next time you hear a song you like, I encourage you to purchase it instead of stealing it. Supporting independent musicians just feels better than robbing us of our livelihood. I promise! Hell, you could even go to your favorite local record store, buy a CD, and look at the cover art for hours. You know, for old times’ sake.

Fingers crossed that your favorite record store is still around…

(Originally published on The Huffington Post on 2/14/2012)

My mom has been taking a Tao Te Ching class recently, and she posted the following quotation from William Martin’s book A Path and a Practice on her Facebook page today, which struck me:

So we become silent. We stop looking for approval. We cease taking offense at the opinions of others. We no longer complicate our thinking or our lives. We do not seek the spotlight but instead become a simple part of all that is. We can be loved or shunned, make a profit or suffer a loss, be honored or disgraced, and never lose the treasure of our being.

OK. Yes. That sounds amazing. But… how?!

We become silent.

How is one ever truly silent? I’m not talking about staying quiet or not using my voice for an extended period of time, but actually finding a completely still place within where there is only me — no sound, nothing. Where has that place gone? Much of the time the noise I battle in my own life is an inner static. I just can’t ever seem to shut up about me, about you, about my boyfriend, about my job, about my dog, about music, about the government, about money, about the queer community, about what total strangers are doing at the store — and this is all happening inside my head all day long, 365 days a year. It’s exhausting, and moreover, it’s loud.

We stop looking for approval.

I have basically spent my entire life up to this point doing this and only this, attempting to accomplish it in a variety of ways over the years, with mixed results. I realized very early on that I was different and that my particular kind of different was not the type that most people around me took kindly to, so I started figuring out ways of getting people to value my existence externally, and I just never stopped doing that. I have looked for approval from my friends, family, God, record labels, men — you name it. I chased a professional dream down a path that has led me to here and now, in this very moment, still seeking your approval, hoping that what I write is good enough for you, that my thoughts are interesting enough, and worrying that you might not think I’m worth anything once you know how desperately I need you to think I am.

We cease taking offense at the opinions of others.

This part truly offends me. I will not legitimize it with words.

We no longer complicate our thinking or our lives.

I spend hours every day over-thinking things. From the small stuff to the big stuff, my inner thought process of choice has always been circular, and it leaves me dizzy and paralyzed much of the time. The stories I create in my head to help explain the unexplainable or more difficult parts of my life cause me to react, and my reaction to the reaction is to try and figure out what caused me to react in the first place. It’s in a loop, and it’s endless.

We do not seek the spotlight but instead become a simple part of all that is.

All my life I have been notoriously attention-seeking, which I’m sure is a direct result of my not feeling worthy as a kid or feeling like I had to act like someone else in order to be liked, but the truth about me is that I am actually very shy. Anyone who knows me in real life already knows this, yet there is something inside me that is constantly pushing me toward the spotlight. My boyfriend recently said to me “It’s like you are always talking out into the world, but then you are shocked when the world talks back,” and I think he’s right. There’s something in me that needs to be seen and valued, but I am just as uncomfortable receiving either now as I ever have been.

We can be loved or shunned, make a profit or suffer a loss, be honored or disgraced, and never lose the treasure of our being.

I struggle with this. I think mostly because I am still trying as a 32-year-old man to get to a place inside where I actually do treasure my own being. That reads sadder than it sounded in my head, but growing up gay in the bigoted Church of Christ didn’t help me develop self-worth as a child, and I spent over 20 years being internally cruel as a result of God’s “plan for my life,” so it understandably takes some time to do… or undo. Whichever it is, I am still working on it.

My mother is very wise (much wiser than she fancies herself), and we have spoken about this many times over the years. She thinks the only way I will come to a place of accepting what is unacceptable is by working to rid myself of this feeling I have of separateness from the rest of the world, something I’ve guarded fiercely over the years as a central means of my own self-protection. She says this process of letting go involves coming face to face with the impermanence of everything; accepting that the world is always changing and that I cannot stop it; sitting with fears, and letting myself truly accept the inevitabilities of my human experience instead of spending all of my energy on trying to fit everything into the story I continue to craft for myself.

This storytelling has no doubt forever been at the root of my misery, feeding lines to my suffering and choking out the realness of my life, my love, my time with all of you, my humanity. What am I still so afraid of? Hasn’t the worst come and gone already, or is there more to come? What would happen if I just decided right now that there is nothing to fear; that no matter what happens to me or the people I love, we will be fine; that everything is perfect and just as it should be, no matter how the story plays out?

I hope I get there sooner than later, and I’ll be sure to let you know when I do. In the meantime, deep breaths…

(Originally published on The Huffington Post on 2/2/2012)

As you probably have heard, the Washington State Senate passed a marriage equality bill Wednesday night, clearing the way for a vote in the House, which looks poised to legalize unions for same-sex couples throughout the state. This means that if I walk out of my house in Portland, Ore. and drive across the I-5 bridge to Vancouver, Wash. (less than five miles away from my front door), I am now considered equal to my heterosexual counterparts and can legally marry the man I love, but once I drive back over that bridge to my house in the state I pay taxes to, I become a second-class citizen once again and cannot.

Well, fuck that, Oregon — and fuck that, America! How can people hate me and my love so much? All my life I have just wanted to be myself. I have wished for others to respect me as a human being in return for respecting them, but instead, I have been made to feel like something less than by my country, by my fellow man and, once again, just moments ago, by my home state.

I smell freedom across the I-5 bridge to Washington, and I want it. I deserve it. I am thrilled for my brothers and sisters in our neighboring state, but being able to see equality now just over the river has added insult to injury. Equality is mine to have as a citizen of this country and is, quite frankly, no one else’s to give. Marriage discrimination, as with any form of discrimination, is truly a cancer on our society. It destroys everything we work so hard to protect, and it weakens us. It strips away our freedom and is just plain un-American.

We are entering into a political vortex this year, with campaigns and agendas flying by every which way. I encourage you to stay focused on equality. Keep fighting to be yourself. Demand respect as a human being, and in return, respect others. Do not let your country make you feel less than any longer, because you are not. You are exactly who you are supposed to be, and don’t let the state of Oregon or any other bigots who “aren’t ready” for marriage equality tell you otherwise.

This is your country, and your love is just as beautiful as anyone else’s love. The end.

We are going to win this. All of us. Any day now…

To get involved in the LGBT community where you live, click here. Change starts with you.

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post – 1/25/2012)

I grew up in a house without pets and never had any animal friends, so I didn’t know that I liked them until I was an adult. When I was in my early 20s I met a small Australian Border Collie named Isabel. She was a ginger like me and took to me right off the bat. I was resistant to her love at first, as I had grown up thinking dogs were dirty and smelly and ate their own poop (which they sometimes are and generally do). Isabel peed on my brand-new, silver, Prada sneakers the first time we met, so it was a rocky start, but she was persistent, and she adored me to no end. Eventually, the feeling was mutual, and I relished how easy it was to interact with another living being on such a basic level. I didn’t mind how dirty and smelly she was because she was such a good listener. I could tell she really was glad I was there when we were hanging out, and she didn’t want anything from me other than for me to spend time with her. We were kindred spirits (aside from the dirty, smelly bit), but Isabel was not my dog, and when I moved out of the house I was staying at with her human, we didn’t see much of each other again.

A few years later, another close friend got a hamster-sized teacup Pomeranian puppy named Dutch (who was also a ginger beast), but my friend was traveling a lot, and this new baby was a particular brand of high maintenance that wasn’t a great fit for her. When he was just 3 months old, he was kidnapped from the front yard by neighbor kids, and it took nearly three weeks for a private investigator to locate him. Whatever happened to him during this experience left the poor dear a bit fearful and needy, which I could really relate to at the time, so I offered myself up as the official dogsitter and brought him home with me.

I had never been around such a tiny creature before. He was so quiet and sweet. All this dog wanted to do was be held and reassured that everything was fine now, which I was happy to do for him. In some way I am sure I was doing this for us both, or we for each other. Our bond was strong and fast, and when my friend came home from her travels, I had a long talk with her about how her newborn dog and I had fallen in love and probably needed to just stay together. I said I would be happy to keep him for her if she was still feeling stressed about his needs. I think she could tell that I also had needs in the moment, namely something to look after, love, and be loved by. After much consideration she agreed that, with all the travel, it might be better for him to stay with me. I burst into tears and thanked her, my heart suddenly unbroken. Dutch spent the night with her that evening, and the next day he came to stay with me permanently.

I was living in a place that didn’t allow dogs back then, but I figured that because he never made a sound, it would be fine. Of course, I was wrong. The little devil found his voice while I was at work one day just after his first birthday, and my landlord busted me for having him. We moved out shortly thereafter, into a place where he could be free to speak when he wanted, and where I didn’t have to smuggle him out to do his business three times a day. This place had a yard, and he was so happy there. I spent hours upon hours watching him run around in circles amongst the trees. He was so energetic at that age, and I was thrilled that I had suddenly been thrust into motherhood. He went everywhere with me, and it was the first time in my life that I felt like I had a purpose, something to get out of bed for in the morning. Keeping this cute thing happy and alive kept me feeling happy and alive, and I promised Dutch (and myself) that from that moment on, nothing bad was going to happen to him again.

In 2005 my world fell apart, and I relapsed into a severe addiction that I had been struggling with since my teens. For the next two years I was actively using, and my world got progressively worse, as did Dutch’s world (which I was responsible for). I was sick, far too sick to take care of myself, much less this small creature who needed so much. Of all the things I regret about my years of being unwell on drugs, this is the one I have the hardest time accepting.

Over the course of the very last few months before I got clean, I lost all control, and Dutch was left alone many times. I would stay up for days, then sleep for days, during which time he was on his own in the house — going hours without food, finding himself with no choice but to use the bathroom indoors (something he knew was wrong and I’m sure was terribly traumatic for him), and receiving no affection from the only person he had in his life. There were times when I could hear him crying in the other room, but I was so far gone that I could not (or would not) move. These are the cries that haunt me in my sleep to this day. There were instances when I just left him alone in the house for days, with an open bag of food and a handful of giant bowls of water. These are the names of failures I will have strapped to my back forever.

It’s awful that I hurt so many people during my unfortunate years, but the neglect and meanness suffered by this small, innocent creature who had grown to trust me after being so terribly hurt by humans is something I will never forgive myself for. I was supposed to protect him, not forget about him. I was supposed to love him, not yell at him for crying. I had terrible people around me at the time, so he had terrible people around him at the time. He needed me so badly then, and I had completely failed him. Luckily, my dear friend came and rescued him before this went on for too long. She loved him up the whole time I was in the hospital and looked after him until I was worthy of being his parent again. I have spent every minute of every day in the four years since trying to make it up to him, and I will continue to do this until his time on this Earth is through.

After we were reunited it took some time for Dutch to get to know Mommy again. I was different now — clearer. I’m sure this change in energy was scary to him, as the change in energy had been when I relapsed. I pushed through my deep shame over having been unfit and tried every way that I could to let him know I was back, that I was sorry, and that it was safe to relax now (again). Eventually, he began to trust that I was me. I watched as his guard fell and rejoiced as his spirit came back, bringing pieces of mine back with it. His graciousness and big, deep love touched me and gave me new hope for the world at a time when I really needed some. It was a beautiful gift and taught me a lifetime’s worth of lessons about forgiveness and compassion. And so, an 8-pound holy terror became my most treasured teacher.

Over the next few years we toured all over the U.S. together, and he was there with me when no one else was around. He was my connection to the outside world while I was on the road, always eager to get me out of the tour bus or hotel room so that he could mark his territory in as many places as I would allow. I got to spend most of my time with the little dude in tow, and it made the loneliness of touring not so lonely. He made me laugh, he got me in trouble with hotel staff, he made me proud, and he let me dress him up in all kinds of ridiculous outfits. It was perfect.

Dutch is 10 now, and he is officially an old man. It remains clear to me that he is much wiser than I will ever be, and much more evolved. A couple of weeks ago he started drinking water compulsively and was acting kind of freaked out. He began having accidents indoors (something he rarely does), and he wasn’t taking treats (something he never does). He just wanted more and more water. His thirst was unquenchable. My boyfriend and I have taken him to the vet a couple of times in the weeks since, and I have called the emergency dog nurse at least 100 times in between my own attempts at Internet diagnosing him. This past weekend we did extensive blood work on him after he was acting very strange and not moving at all. The results came back today, and he has diabetes, so he will need shots of insulin every day for the rest of his life.

I know that my sweet boy has officially entered into his final act on this planet, though it is almost too painful to really look at. All of this regret is on the surface again, and a feeling of wanting to make sure he is comfortable and happy for the rest of his days is front and center. If I could speak Dog for a few minutes, I would tell him how much I love him and how very much he means to me; I would find Dog words to make him know how special he is, and how much I will miss him when he is gone; I would let him know what’s going on with his body now so that he isn’t afraid during the treatment, and I would explain why he isn’t in trouble for going potty in the house since he’s been sick, so that he could stop feeling bad about it; I would thank him for trusting me all of these years, and for letting me earn that trust back when it was broken; I would ask him to trust me once again through his being sick, and I would let him know that I will be here with him every day until the end so he doesn’t worry.

A couple of years back I had a dream in which a woman with long hair gave Dutch to me in a basket. He was miniature, like when he was a baby, and he had a full coat of hair. The woman said to me, “He will be your guide in life and through death,” and then handed me the basket. At the time I didn’t think much of it other than that it had been a creepy dream, but as I look back at our years together, it takes on new meaning. Dutch really did come into my life at a time when I needed something to tether me to this planet. He waited until I was well to get sick himself, and my guess is that he will wait to die until I am ready for him to go. He has been my guide in many ways through these years and is now set to teach me this last lesson, the hardest lesson. I can’t look away like I have done in the past around death, and I don’t want to.

Our experience together, this relationship as living creatures who care about each other, has been one of the most beautiful things I’ve had the pleasure of being a part of in my lifetime. It is a great honor to be with this small creature now in his final years. I will be present with him through this new process of illness so that I might learn to be present with others through theirs. I will love him and make myself vulnerable to being hurt by his departure until he is gone. I will not pull away. I will come closer. I will try not to fear his passing before it comes, and when it arrives, I will greet it with open eyes. I will be brave in the face of death so that he can be, too. I will hold him as he goes, and I will send his spirit off onto his next adventure, thanking him for staying with me for this time during mine and wishing him well on his journey. I will remember the good days, and I will feel grateful that we had so many together… and I will love other animals in his memory, always bringing the lessons I learn from them into my relationships with people.

My advice to all of you is this: go to the animal shelter in your town and adopt a creature of your own. Your spirit guide is probably waiting there for you.

Now watch this video of Dutch doing his ridiculous trick:

Photo credit: Xilia Faye

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post – 1/17/2012)

In keeping with the theme of love, family, and relationship from my last post, I reached out to some famous friends to see what their thoughts were on the subject.

Singer/songwriter Matt Alber, filmmaker and photographer Bruce LaBruce, actor and musician Daniela Sea (from Showtime‘s The L Word), TV personality and activist Danny Roberts (from MTV‘s Real World: New Orleans), drag superstar and electrosleeze pioneer Jackie Beat, composer and singer Holcombe Waller, and “Charlie” Swimwear designer Matthew Zink all weighed in on the same five questions:

1. If you could sum up your concept of “relationships” in one word, what would it be?

2. What is your favorite love song of all time?

3. If you could choose any actor to play you in the movie version of your life, who would it be? What about them is you?

4. How has the relationship between your mother and father influenced your ideas about love and relationships?

5. What three qualities do you look for in a partner?

Here come their answers! (Drum roll please…)

Matt Alber

Matt is a singer/songwriter and all-around pop phenom. Dude’s cover of Madonna’s “Take a Bow” from his new record Constant Crows will make you cry. So will his “End of the World” video.

1. I guess it would be “listen.” My first answer was “summer sausage,” but then I realized that is two words.

2. Hands down, it’s gotta be “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley, 1) because we have the same birthday, and 2) because I got to sing it with a live band at the Playboy Mansion when I used to make my living as a singer in Los Angeles’ top cover band.

3. Ryan Gosling is my first choice, but mostly because of those sweet, dreamy eyes. Of course, if Jake Gyllenhaal is free, please ask his agent if he would consider the role. You can tell them that the “losing his virginity” scene will be a hell of a lot more comfortable than Brokeback.

4. My parents spent the better part of their young adult lives at war with one another. I’m very close with both of them, and they’d agree with that statement. Their relationship was founded on a lot of hope, but also on a lot of control. I think true love means you speak up lovingly when your lover crosses a personal line, and that every conversation comes back to “I want this to work” more than “I want to be right.”

5. His masculine playfulness, his handsome face I can’t stop staring at, and his chili.

Bruce LaBruce

Over the years, Bruce has been called everything from pornographer to genre genius, but one thing is undeniable: he is authentically himself, and I love that. Watch the trailer for his latest film, L.A. Zombie.

1. “Love,” “love,” and “love.”

2. “Sara Smile” by Hall & Oates.

3. Lindsay Lohan, because she’s ginger like me, a brat with criminal tendencies like me, and I think if she played it a bit more feminine than she usually does, she could nail me. Plus, she needs a good comeback role.

4. My parents will have been married 60 years in February, so I guess I’ve learned about stability and longevity from them.

5. Topness, unrehearsed masculinity, and gentleness.

Daniela Sea

Daniela is a filmmaker, musician, and actor, and is best known for her role as Moira/Max on Showtime’s The L Word.

1. Unique in each incarnation: on Valentine’s Day, “relationship with a lover” comes to mind, of course. But “relationship” is a great word for the interconnectivity of all things. My relationship to the Earth is precious to me, as well as to the animals, to my fellow humans, and to the elements that bring life to the planet. My relationship to my family and to the communities that hold me up gives me joy every day. Each spirit is unique and intertwined; being in relation to all beings in all the universes is a truth that sustains me. This is love.

2. There are some great ones, but I’ll go back to my childhood roots, my mom spinning Joni Mitchell on the record player as I swung in the living room hammock: “A Case of You.” She sings, “Part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time.” I could be much more avant-garde or punk rock, but honestly, that would most likely take the prize.

3. Would I play me? If not myself, than perhaps Agnes Varda would make the film, and play me and herself? She’s my hero.

4. I learned that love can be unconditional and everlasting, however it shifts shape.

5. For me, a good mix of curiosity about the world, kindness, wildness, and a free-spirited soul. A great mind and heart is right up there, as well.

Danny Roberts

Danny first appeared as himself on MTV’s The Real World and has been an outspoken voice from the LGBT community for over a decade.

1. “Unity.” A relationship is a mutually beneficial arrangement where two people uplift each other, encourage each other, and support each other in every way possible. There’s no one way or best way of going about this.

2. “All Is Full of Love” by Björk.

3. Jude Law: he plays an amazing brooding cynic.

4. Well, I certainly learned from them that it’s give-and-take and that it’s important to compromise and give a person room, but at some point you have to put your foot down and bring them back to center, and it’s always a two-way road. I also learned that two people can work through a tremendous amount of adversity and continue to love each other.

5. Must be down-to-Earth and centered, must love to continue to explore and learn in life and have a natural sense of curiosity, and must have a sense of humor and never take this short life too seriously.

Jackie Beat

Jackie is a star of stage, screen, and sound. Her band Dirty Sanchez might as well have owned the rights to the electroclash movement a few years ago.

1. “Friends.”

2. “How Beautiful You Are” by The Cure.

3. Miss Piggy, for all the obvious reasons.

4. Listen to the song mentioned in the second question and you tell me!

5. Kindness, a sense of humor, and a deep-seated lack of self-esteem.

Matthew Zink

Matthew makes the beautiful people more beautiful through swimwear. Check out his new collection.

1. “Partner.”

2. “I Really Got the Feeling” by Dolly Parton.

3. That is a hard question! Maybe Ryan Gosling… I am such a fan of him as an actor. He’s so talented and carries himself like a gentlemen. (Perhaps a bit too handsome to play me.)

4. My parents showed me that love is patient and you constantly have to work at it, but it’s worth all the hard work.

5. Kindness, intimacy, and passion.

Holcombe Waller

Holcombe has the voice of an angel. Watch his “Hardliners” video.

1. My definition of an amorous relationship in one word would probably be “grace,” both in terms of how it describes elegance and beauty, as well as the sense of mercy and clemency implied. All people should bring beauty and forgiveness into the world around them. In a relationship, this duty is amplified and focused between partners.

2. I have too many favorite love songs to really pick just one, but the first that came to mind is Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne,” particularly because of the way it portrays a kind of ambivalent masculine love born in fascination with this mysterious otherly female dream character. It’s so fabulous, it’s honorifically gay.

3. Well, of course it would be Meryl Streep. I mean, what about Meryl isn’t me? That’s the question! I would only worry about what Nora Ephron once said about the travails of having been portrayed in film by Meryl Streep: she simply will play you better than you do, and this could be the cause of deep existential anguish for one’s own ego. I should be careful what I wish for.

4. Through thick and thin, my parents are deeply committed to each other till death do they part. I’ve seen them go through things that seem to push the limits of the phrase “for better or for worse,” and I think I’ve internalized that sense of commitment from them. It’s not just applied towards romantic partnership; I feel this way about my closest friends. I don’t want anything but death to get in the way.

5. Given that I’m partnered, let me share the three things I always tell my single friends that they should be looking for in their prospective dates and potential significant others. The first and most important quality in a person in a relationship is that they want to be in the relationship. This seems so basic, but I’ve had terrible problems with this in the past — being with someone (or with people, if they are poly) who profess ambivalence about whether or not they want to be in a relationship — and I’ve seen it a lot in my friends’ romantic trials. My attitude is that if someone is indicating ambivalence, end it. You can’t work through problems if there isn’t a reason to, and relationship ambivalence is a deal breaker. It’s one thing for another person not to know if they should or shouldn’t be in a relationship, but to know that you are ambivalent means the relationship is not good for now. The second quality I recommend is ease. People always say “relationships take work,” but they get confused and think that the relationship itself is the problem you have to work to surmount. What’s that about? The relationship should be the easy joyful wonderful thing that gets pummeled by the real and unavoidable troubles of being alive. Sure, these can make a relationship hard, if someone is going through a rough patch, but if a relationship is like hard sailing on a smooth and beautiful ocean, ditch it and look for a boat that’s easier to be on. Lastly, I highly recommend finding a partner you’re in love with who is also in love with you. I actually think this is more rare than people think, but steps 1 and 2 are a good start.

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post – 1/10/2012)

I spent my 20s in complete solitude. Even when I was in relationship or around friends, I was impossible to reach and might as well have been by myself. It was a decade spent mostly alone, and I think there were many times when I felt like this was just how life was going to play out. I watched as my little brother married his high-school sweetheart, and in the 10 years since, I’ve had the great pleasure of holding their babies as they joined us in the world. Loving these beautiful creatures has in many ways made my own as-of-yet-unrealized dream of building a family an easier pill to swallow — but I have always hoped that some great love would make its way to me, as well.

In October 2010, after spending the better part of two years in single-man lockdown mode recovering from a long-winded, ugly breakup, I went to celebrate my 31st birthday with my dear friend at a local Portland patisserie. We sat and chatted about life for a while, and then I noticed this man walk through the door and sit at a table just to the right of the dessert counter. He was wearing a tight, white, v-neck t-shirt, and I found myself unable to stop staring at him. It may have been his big arms, his dark chest hair, his thick-framed Dita glasses, his pretty face — I’m not sure — but something clicked in that moment.

At one point my friend stepped out to take a call, and I took that as my cue to undress him with my mind and get down to fantasy business. (I’m not a sex maniac, but I had sworn off men and had been celibate for over a year, and my fantasy life had become both really involved and easily accessible during that time). So I imagined us getting freaky on the dessert counter until my friend’s return jolted me back to my sad, clothed, birthday reality. From across the room, I kept hearing my pretend boyfriend laughing this enormous, joyful, shameless laugh with his friend, and I tried not to stare. As we were leaving, I pointed out my exotic find to my friend and said, “I gotta get me one like that,” which, in retrospect, is a bit crass and actually isn’t all that romantic-sounding, but I figure the story’s no good if I don’t just tell it like it happened, and that’s how it happened. It may not have been poetry, but it came from a very real place.

Over the next two months I thought about this mystery man a lot, which was not a common thing for me to do when it came to random people from coffee shops whom I had never spoken to. Often, the thoughts were naked ones, but sometimes they were not. At times I was awake when he was there; other times he would appear in my dreams. What had happened to me there amongst the candy and cakes? I couldn’t figure out if I had been possessed or if I was just really horny from swearing off sex. Maybe I just needed to get manhandled on a dessert counter somewhere. Either way, I hoped I would run into him again and promised myself that I would speak to him if I did.

One afternoon in early December I looked up from my desk at Portland’s Q Center, and there he was, standing in the door of my office, picking up promotional materials for an event he was holding there. He told me his name. I introduced myself but could not stop looking down at my feet. We shook hands. His were soft but strong — like they were in my dream. I’m sure I turned all sorts of red in the face, and I remember being kind of frozen there for a minute. I came off as rude and uninterested, and he went to talk with my colleague across the hall. Once again, I found myself compelled to stare at him, completely drawn in by his presence, his look, his chemicals, but I was somehow rendered unable to speak or be friendly.

When he left I probed my colleagues for details about who this most recent star of my rich fantasy life actually was in the real world. After hearing only good reviews from the handful of people I asked, I decided to attend the event he was hosting. I was determined to push through the shyness and try talking to him again when it was over, and I would try even harder not to come off like a total dick this time. Out of nowhere, at the end of the event, he came up to me and asked if I’d like to grab a coffee with him sometime. (I later found out that my colleague had let him in on my having expressed interest, so the miracle-love-story factor here is a little diminished, but it was a magical moment nonetheless.) I said yes and had him call my phone so that I could save his number.

As he was walking away, I noticed that it had not saved, and I said, “Wait! It didn’t work!” He turned and walked back over to me, still with those sweet eyes, still with that handsome face, and in a fleeting moment of sheer bravery, I let out the words, “How am I supposed to get you into my life if I don’t have your phone number?” My boldness made him smile. I entered the number again manually, saved it, and left the event feeling over the moon. To my surprise, he called me the next day to go to dinner instead of coffee, which we did the following evening. It was one of those nights where everything was easy and real. We talked about our lives, our families, our struggles, our deepest regrets, our hopes, our true selves; it was perfect. He gave me the most passionate kiss as he dropped me off that night, and we have been together ever since.

I’m not sure if our meeting was destiny or chance, as I am not sure I believe in either of those things, but I think I may have experienced what others for centuries have been referring to as “love at first sight” that day in the patisserie. I’m pretty sure I don’t believe in that, but it was like the minute I laid eyes on this man, I just knew he was going to change my life forever — and he has. I like to think that all those dreams and imagined escapades involving him in the months prior to our meeting were ways in which the universe was preparing me for the very real arrival of love and intimacy in my life. I might not have recognized either of them had I not already been turned on and tuned in on some level, and both might have frightened me had I not been practicing a bit on my own in advance of their arrival. It was some sort of cosmic conditioning process, and it left me brave and open enough for this man to occupy a space in my heart that no other man had prior.

Maybe the moral of this in-progress love story is that even the coldest hand can be warmed. I am living proof of this. I wake up every morning to a face on the pillow next to me that I hope I am lucky enough to get to roll over and look at for 100 more years. Something has come alive in me that was asleep before, and I will share that awakening with him forever, however our story builds out from here.

I believe that all of us deserve love and are fully capable of loving, no matter what our experience in and around relationships has been in the past. I continue to work on staying bold and listening to my dreams and fantasies when they are speaking to me. I am convinced that therein lies the roadmap to my bliss. My guess is that your bliss is trying to tell you something too, so pay attention. You never know when that patisserie door will open.

Hope everybody is having a great new year so far. We are just 2 days in and I am already announcing exciting stuff! I was recently asked to come on board as a blogger for The Huffington Post and they published my 1st piece today in the Gay Voices section HERE. It’s called “Unhappiness Is A Strange Muse“. Please comment, share and click the “Like” button…and you can subscribe to my future posts on my official HuffPost author page HERE.

Cray Cray, huh?

I was chatting with an older woman who works in my building today for the first time and she said “I hope this comes out the right way but I overheard you say that you needed someone else to set up the bar for the party because you are a recovering alcoholic and I just wanted you to know how happy I was to hear you taking care of yourself like that. You see, my daughter had the same problem but she was never able to get well. I lost her last February. I know how very hard it is and I think it is so great what you are doing.” I smiled and said, “I am so sorry to hear about your daughter. It’s a very difficult journey to be on. So hard on everyone involved.” She replied “Yes…but it was hardest on her.”

We talked for a little while about how now she is raising her granddaughter as her own and how maybe we are all just doing our best, even when we are at our worst (a concept which has come up in conversation lately with a few different people and that I find incredibly hard to wrap my head around at times). At one point her eyes welled up and she said “Hearing you stand up for yourself and your life in that moment made me love my daughter in a way I have not been able to since she died. Thank you for giving that back to me.” She started crying big tears, which made me start crying big tears…then we hugged the hug that only people who have been through the same war hug, an embrace I have felt before with my own hurt, scared mother around this stuff.

In that moment I imagined myself to be her daughter, years later, happy and well, hugging away the pain of watching someone you love struggle through the horrors of addiction. I felt like saying “It’s OK, mom. It’s over now.” as I have done with my mother on several occasions since finally getting well in 2007…but those words mean something so different for her than they do for my mom. For this sweet woman and her daughter, it really is over. All of it. No more memories, no more birthdays or holidays spent together. She is just gone, taken from this world by a glass of something.

I am so thankful that my mother does not have to cry on the shoulder of some other survivor to feel close to her dead child and I am grateful to have real love in my life where there used to be an empty space I filled with cocaine and vodka. I know how lucky that makes me and not a day goes by that I don’t wonder why I get to be one of the lucky ones. These days are cosmic gifts, extra moments bestowed upon me and my family by some unexpected twist of fate. I am 4 years into the bonus round and I try to make every minute count. I get to be here to kiss my boyfriend, play with my dog, watch my nieces grow up, help the community I care so deeply about, and enjoy all these beautiful years I almost didn’t get to have with you all.

Be well, friends. Live the life you are meant to live. Hug your mothers. Find something lovable about yourself and LOVE IT fearlessly. Then, share that love with the world…because the world needs you. If you are struggling with addiction, please tell someone. There are lots of different ways to get lots of different kinds of help and there has never been a better time to get your shit together than RIGHT NOW.

I wish you the happiest of all holidays, everybody.

xo
Logan

Whoa! Portland Monthly Magazine picked my record “I Killed Tomorrow Yesterday” as one of their top 15 records to give as gifts this holiday season and had some really nice things to say about me! So cool.

Check it out HERE.

I love it when my songs are used in cool stuff! This promo for ESPN, Mutiny Bikes, and Etnies is called “Battle Los Angeles” and has the instrumental of my track “Velocity” (taken from my 2010 record “I Killed Tomorrow Yesterday” and produced by Bryan Cecil) in it at the 5:10 mark. I once told my basketball coach brother Landon that ESPN would never want to use my music for anything but apparently I was wrong.

The video stars adrenaline junkies Brandon Hoerres, George Boyd, Andy Martinez, Matt Roe and Justin Simpson and was filmed, edited and directed by Joe Simon. Holy shit. They are all completely NUTS.

Here:

+ Logan Lynn // “Velocity” for ESPN & Mutiny Bikes (2011) – at 5:10

Oh god. Watch my new video on MTV below or on their website HERE.

MTV is so fucking cool still.

As many of you probably already have heard, Seattle’s evangelical Mars Hill church has just set up shop in SE Portland. The story broke via the Portland Mercury last week and ignited a controversy which has been covered in the media (both local and national) ever since.

When anything notable that’s LGBT-related happens in this town I generally expect to get calls from newsrooms wanting official statements from Q Center about said goings-on. That’s part of our role as an organization, actually; to speak out and offer up a voice from the queer community. As Q Center‘s Public Relations Manager, this time-sensitive-race-to-press stuff lands on my desk – generally all at once and without warning. This was certainly the case this past week. At 4pm Thursday Fox News descended upon my office with TV cameras. The Oregonian and Just Out had both interviewed me about the church just before they arrived as well.

Here’s where this whole thing gets tricky:

I know that ultimately what comes out of my mouth in these initial unplanned moments matters much more than any of the well thought out words I will think to say in the days following…so I try my best to speak from the heart and stay focused on the issue at hand instead of my past experience or perceptions. I’m not gonna lie, though- This particular issue is hard to stay objective about…impossible, maybe…so I decided not to.

Instead of fighting to stay removed I dove headfirst into my personal experience. I thought about how different my relationship with my family, the church and the world is these days compared to when I was coming out as a teenager and I thought about how it was that we got from there to here. In the years since coming out I have been able to change the hearts and minds of the people in my life. The once conservative views alive in my family are no longer anywhere to be found. We live in a profoundly free, new world together; a world full of love and celebration of our differences. It’s really quite beautiful. Had you told me this would be the case with my loved ones when I was 14 and miserable I would have laughed in your face at the impossibility of it all.

When I think about how this change in our lives came to be there are many variables. The common factor is me, however. In getting to know me, in seeing what it means to be a gay person through my life, my parents and these anti-gay people around them have changed their minds. It has taken years…but eventually is so much better than never. There are educational opportunities in front of my face all the time. Sometimes I am the teacher, but I am ALWAYS the student. When I heard Mars Hill Pastor Tim Smith speak in this video (click HERE to watch) I knew this was one of those times. I invited them to come take a tour of Q Center and chat and they took me up on the offer.

This afternoon MH Pastor Tim Smith arrived at Q Center with his colleague and we (along with Barb and Paul) spent nearly 2 hours together, chatting first about our similarities to find common ground and then about our differences and what that means for the local LGBT community here in Portland now that they have arrived. It was a very respectful, civil afternoon. We spoke about what all we do at Q Center, about youth suicide, bullying, queer families, the local political landscape and the state of the LGBT community here in Portland and worldwide. They spoke, we listened. We spoke, they listened. We had “ah-ha!” moments, they had “ah-ha!” moments. It was really that simple. No screaming. No fighting. Just talking. I believe we all left today’s meeting with a better understanding of one another’s perspective and with a resolve to take this dialogue to the next level.

In discussing what that would look like initially, we have decided to gather a dozen people – 6 from the LGBT community and 6 from the Mars Hill/Evangelical Christian community – to meet and dive deeper into these discussions over the course of a period of time yet to be determined. This will be an opportunity for the hard questions to be asked, answered, cried about, talked over, etc in a safe space, with the end goal being that both sides walk away with a better understanding of the other. There is so much fear on both sides of this particular coin…and we often are most afraid of the unknown. My hope is that we can replace the fear with knowledge, swap out the misinformation with education. I have seen this happen in my immediate family and believe wholeheartedly that it can happen in the larger human family as well. We are all just people, after all.

Today was a victory for courage, compassion and kindness; for being heard and for listening to. I’ll keep you all posted as this develops. I have high hopes that something really good comes out of this bridge we started building today.

In the end, love wins. Always. You’ll see.

xo,

Logan

It’s been a REALLY big couple of weeks since the release of “Live From Nowhere Near You” (the charity record I’m on with The Strokes, Pearl Jam, Spoon, Sleater-Kinney, Elliott Smith, The Decemberists, The Dandy Warhols, Wilco and dozens of other killer bands). Not only is the record blowing up radio (and selling out everywhere in-stores) but the press has been all up in it since the beginning of July!

After being featured by Pitchfork Magazine, Under The Radar Magazine, and a TON of other awesome media outlets all praising the record, it was picked as #3 on this week’s Must-Have list in Entertainment Weekly! Pick up the current issue on stands everywhere now or click the front cover below to check out the electronic version! YEAH BUDDY!

To get your copy of “Live From Nowhere Near You” go to any record store anywhere or CLICK HERE.

For those of you who missed it, John Cameron Mitchell (Hedwig & The Angry Inch, Shortbus, Rabbit Hole), Portland-gone-NYC performance queen Amber Martin, Sook-Yin Lee (Hedwig & The Angry Inch, Shortbus), PJ DeBoy (Shortbus) & Paul Dawson (Shortbus) partnered with me on a Q&A meet-and-greet event in Portland this month while they were in town throwing their Mattachine dance party! It was really fun. They are all lovely. I’ve included a couple of shots here but you can look at the whole batch of photos on my Facebook page HERE if ya wanna!

Thank you John, Amber, Sook-Yin, PJ & Paul for being sooooooooooooooo awesome!!! See you all again soon.

Love,

Hey folks! Saturday, August 6th at Q Center in Portland I’m throwing an ALL AGES Q&A Meet-and-Greet with John Cameron Mitchell (Hedwig & The Angry Inch, Shortbus, Rabbit Hole), Portland-gone-NYC performance queen Amber Martin, PJ DeBoy (Shortbus) & Paul Dawson (Shortbus)! They are in town for their traveling Mattachine dance party spectacle that evening but will be spending some of their afternoon with us at Q Center before the show!

You are all invited. Spread the word. RSVP to the Facebook Event Page HERE.

Now watch John Cameron Mitchell in “Hedwig & The Angry Inch”: