(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 5/7/2012)

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a hero lately, spawned mostly by my recent involvement in a project called Queer Heroes NW, created in partnership with Q Center (Portland’s LGBTQ Community Center) and GLAPN (the Gay & Lesbian Archives of the Pacific Northwest). The idea behind the endeavor was to focus in on individuals who have helped shape the local LGBT movement here in Oregon and southwest Washington, honor them for making our community safer over the years, and teach a new generation about how we got here from there.

Often, when I think of the history of the gay rights movement, only of a few select big-name activists come to mind. It’s easy to forget about all the people who didn’t make the papers or have a movie made about their impact, and in so doing, we skip over the people who have put their neck on the line for our local communities, with little or no recognition in return. Part of the goal in creating Queer Heroes NW was to secure these brave souls a permanent spot in our queer history, and also to thank them for the work they have done to make us free and keep us free.

Over the years I have had many people touch my life in heroic ways. I was always picked on for being perceived as “girly” or “gay” growing up, and by the time I reached high school, the bullying was unbearable (like it is for many gay kids). I had one teacher who stepped into the role of queer hero #1 on the first day of my freshman year. His classroom instantly became a safe haven for me, and I knew that I could always count on him to stand up for me, shut down the meanness, and help cultivate allies with the other kids in my class through his teachings of acceptance around diversity. He was not gay himself, and I’m sure this was not a popular role for him to take on with other teachers or the administration, but he never backed down. Every day from the time I arrived in his classroom to the time I left, he was in my court. There were times when he would watch to make sure I was safe during lunch, and there was a whole year when he walked behind me as I went from his classroom to the next one. We made a deal that he would walk far enough back that none of the other kids would know, but close enough that people would be on their best behavior, thus creating a hedge of protection of sorts around me. This was a brave move on the part of this kind man. The safety and support he provided me was enough to keep me in school and earn him the title of “queer hero” then, and still to this day.

Years later, as I was struggling to make it in the music industry, another kind man named Perry Turcotte reached out to me and offered to place my music videos in a new show he was producing for MTV, called NewNowNext, which would air on a brand-new network experiment aimed toward the LGBT community, called Logo. I of course jumped at the chance. From there, he basically took me under his MTV-artist-development wing, flying me out to New York City to be interviewed, airing my videos in heavy rotation on the channel, and eventually having me host the show and appear in commercial spots for the network. He believed in me, in my music, and in my then-unknown ability to speak publicly about my experience as a gay man in a straight world. He saw something in me that I had yet to look at, and in doing so he really set me up for every bit of success I have had in the years since. His efforts to honor my queer voice and push me out into the mainstream as myself were heroic not just for me but for queer people everywhere who had, up to that point, not seen my kind of queer on their TV screens. What Perry did for our movement in helping to create and cultivate Logo (which, in the years since, has become a cultural force to be reckoned with), and what he did for me both professionally and personally, has earned him the #2 spot on my queer hero list.

At the end of 2010, a third queer hero landed in my world. After years of loneliness and isolation following years of sorrow and disappointment, I met a sweet, gentle, beautiful man. For the first time in my life, another living creature was able to touch me physically in ways that did not freak me out, trigger or confuse me, or in any way resemble the horrors of abuse that I had endured as a young child. This man could really see me, and he was able to meet me where I was right then and honor that space, something no one else had been able to do before (or had even tried to do). A great sense of calm came over me the first time we were naked together. I was not afraid to be close to him, and I actually enjoyed feeling vulnerable with him. The experience of letting go and trusting this person to take me somewhere new during those initial encounters was both healing and spiritual. His patience with me, his willingness to wake me up from the living nightmare I had been playing out for decades, and his continued love, patience, and compassion since have changed me forever. To be kind is one of the most heroic things a person can do. It seems so simple when you think about it, but it’s actually quite rare to find someone who is willing to kiss your scars. This is the stuff queer heroes are made of.

Who are your queer heroes? Have there been people in your life who have celebrated your existence in ways that have left you changed, made your world safer, or helped you along in your journey toward freedom? I encourage you to honor these people however you can, even if it’s just by paying the kindness forward and stepping into the role of hero to someone else now.

You don’t need superpowers to save someone’s life. Sometimes all it takes is being there.

Watch my PSA for Queer Heroes NW:

(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.

I took a job this week as a columnist for Just Out Magazine! Look for my monthly column when they relaunch in June. Fun, right?

From Just Out: (4/10/2012)

“Just Out is pleased to announce that openly gay writer, musician, and LGBT activist Logan Lynn has joined our ever-growing team of columnists! Logan’s articles range from celebrity interviews to mindful living to local, national, and international queer issues. In addition to writing for Just Out, The Huffington Post, Q Blog, and various mainstream and queer media outlets, Lynn has released five studio albums, six EPs and two singles since 1999 (with a new single on the way in June). He has worked closely with The Dandy Warhols and Styrofoam throughout his career and his music videos have appeared on MTV, Logo, Spike TV and VH1. He has also hosted shows and appeared in commercial spots for Logo and MTV on several occasions since 2007. Logan devotes much of his energy these days to working closely with Q Center, Oregon’s LGBTQ community center. He currently lives in Portland, and enjoys spending time with his partner Aleksandr, his teacup Pomeranian Dutch, and his beloved television.”

ha ha ha

I love that last line.

(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.

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 3/30/2012)

I’m going to Los Angeles this weekend to meet my man’s parents for the first time. I’m really excited to get to know the people who created this extraordinary creature I love so much, and it feels super special to have been invited to accompany him on the journey. So romantical!

At any rate, I figured that because I’m spun out all giddy-like on matters of the heart at the moment, it would be the perfect time for the second round of my ongoing interview series about love and relationships, “Queer Celebrities Need Love, Too.” For this edition I reached out to Imperial Teen‘s Will Schwartz, original Hole drummer Patty Schemel, TV personality Philip Tetro (from MTV Canada’s 1 Girl 5 Gays), transgender comedian Ian Harvie, New York Times bestselling author (and Madonna‘s brother) Christopher G. Ciccone, actor PJ DeBoy, radio talkshow host (and former Playgirl president) Daniel Nardicio, and Sexpop god Mario Diaz. They all weighed in on the same five questions:

1. If you had to sum up the entire history of your love life in one word, what would it be?

2. What’s your favorite on-screen romance of all time? What was it about their love that you liked?

3. Name something that’s a deal breaker for you in relationships.

4. What does a perfect day look like to you? Is it spent alone or with someone else?

5. If you could pick a theme song for that day, what would it be?

Here’s what they had to say about stuff (and things).

Will Schwartz

Will is a founding member of queer alt-rock supergroup Imperial Teen, as well as the brainchild behind indie pop outfit Hey Willpower. (Watch Imperial Teen’s “Runaway” video here.)

1. “Musical.”

2. Gena Rowlands and Peter Falk in A Woman Under the Influence comes to mind (their relationship in the first half of the film, anyway). She’s pretty crazy and inappropriate, but they share a deep and complicated sense of love and understanding of one another for a while. It doesn’t end so great, but it’s a powerful unconditional love message until things really go awry. I like Dudley and Liza in Arthur, also. I like that they’re goofballs and everything is absurd and funny to them, and they have their flaws but they accept one another. I mean it’s a bit cartoonish and codependent, but what isn’t?

3. No drive, terrible breath.

4. Oh, so many ways. Spent with someone else! Having had some really good news the night before (i.e., a song licensed, a Grammy nod), sleep in a beautiful luxury hotel with a best buddy, take a bath, eat a delicious breakfast, lay out by the pool and read trashy magazines, do a little exercise and some spa time, take a nap, get up and watch a little TV, go to an incredible restaurant for dinner, come back and watch a good movie. Or a similar day at a friend’s house in Joshua Tree or Valley Center, eating great food, hanging out with irreverent grandmas and dogs, cracking up all day with my pals, and doing home karaoke at night. Or writing and hanging out with Imperial Teen, Roddy cooking us dinner.

5. The Alessi Brothers’ “Seabird”:

Patty Schemel

Patty was the original drummer behind Courtney Love in the band Hole and is the subject of a new documentary titled Hit So Hard: The Life and Near Death Story of Patty Schemel (watch the trailer exclusively on iTunes here).

1. “Lessons.”

2. Beauty & the Beast, Jean Cocteau. His love was pure, and she was eventually able to look past his beastliness, which made him human in the end.

3. Dishonesty or no sense of humor.

4. Spent with my wife and daughter. It doesn’t matter what we do, as long as we are together!

5. Edward Sharp & the Magnetic Zeros’ “Home”:

Philip Tetro

Philip is a panelist on the MTV Canada show 1 girl 5 gays. (Watch him on Logo online here.)

1. “Uneventful.”

2. Juan and Eva Peron (Jonathan Pryce and Madonna) in Evita: the story of a woman who encounters endless heartbreak her entire life until someone finally loves her back. She finds true love while trying to change the world for the better. She searches and searches for love until she finds more than she knows what to do with. Then she dies.

3. Men who aren’t articulate! You don’t have to be a genius, but if you say that you “seen” something as opposed to “saw” something, you will need to leave. Immediately.

4. A perfect day for me happens sometime in July: friends, family, food, music, and dancing. A handsome man by my side would be great, too. And, perhaps, a drink or two. Or three.

5. Madonna’s “Holiday”:

Ian Harvie

Ian is a transgender comedian/activist who has performed his act all over the world and on both mainstream and queer TV. (Watch him do his thing on tour with Margaret Cho here.)

1. You can’t just give me one word! I gotta have two or three for this: “sweet, semi-complicated, passion.”

2. Love Actually. I’m a complete sap for a film with multiple “love” storylines. This film shows love from so many different angles: that of a kid’s first love, love lost, love not reciprocated, love even with a language barrier, forbidden love, awkward new love, and so much more. I like how they’re all tied together in the end. I love the ending at the airport with everyone greeting each other at the gate. I’m a huge sap!

3. Unfair fighting — and this goes for any kind of relationship in my life: lover, friend, family. We can have a beef, but you’d better come at me with some adult fightin’ tools. No serious name calling, stick to the issues, and we’d better fuck after. Well, I guess the fucking doesn’t apply to family; we should just probably hug it out after.

4. Spent with m’ady: wake up to a blow job, go for a walk/mild hike or paddle boarding (which I’ve have yet to do), get a kale salad at the Veggie Grill, meet friend(s) for coffee, cook out at home, watch Chelsea Lately, go to bed. Kind of a simpleton here.

5. The Temper Trap’s “Sweet Disposition”:

Christopher G. Ciccone

Christopher is a New York Times bestselling author, was Madonna‘s artistic director for years, and just happens to be her younger brother.

1. “Spastic.”

2. From the movie Laura: the lead, Dana Andrews, falls in love with the other lead, Gene Tierney. He falls in love with a dead woman based solely on a portrait, her affects, and the stories people tell him about her; then he discovers she is alive! It’s a trip, and it’s brilliant.

3. No sense of humor.

4. A cold, cloudy Sunday, laying around warm in bed with someone I love, ignoring The New York Times, watching old movies, eating pizza, drinking wine…

5. Alicia Keys’ “If I Ain’t Got You”:

PJ DeBoy

You probably remember PJ from his role in John Cameron Mitchell’s masterpiece film Shortbus. He is also a regular on OutTV and the Here network.

1. “Volcanic.”

2. Hal Ashby’s Harold and Maude. Bud Cort and Ruth Gordon play such beautiful oddballs who find each other at a desperate point in each other’s lives. There’s this delightful, optimistic doom that draws me to them. We know it’s not going to work out, but in the meantime…

3. I don’t do deal breakers.

4. My perfect day is outside somewhere with Paul (my partner) and as many family and friends as I can gather. There should be a river involved, too. I’m very fortunate to have the people in my life that I do. You all know who you are! Thank you for all the perfect days and the not-so-great ones, too.

5. Massive Attack’s “Protection”:

Daniel Nardicio

Daniel is a New York City nightlife heavyweight, media mogul, TV talking head, and radio personality. He made Sarah Palin totally shit her pants a while back, too… which makes me smile.

1. “Spotty.”

2. They werent actually lovers, but Holly Hunter and Albert Brooks in Broadcast News were best friends with an underlying romance. I just loved their rapport and the way they could finish each others thoughts — very sweet.

3. Lack of humor. Chris and I literally laugh all day long. It gets us through the tough times, realizing the absurdity of it all. I’ve gone out with guys who weren’t funny, and it’s like the worst quality ever.

4. I like being alone. I guess the perfect day would be working doing what i love, then when I’m done achieving, Chris comes home, and we talk about the day.

5. Polyphonic Spree’s “Light and Day”:

Mario Diaz

Mario is an actor, DJ, Los Angeles party promoter, and electro producer. He is currently starring in Hollywood Sex Wars and is the man behind the music over at Dirty Sanchez.

1. I’m gonna go with “abundance.” If I look back at all the love that has been given to me, I’m a damn lucky guy.

2. I was always especially touched by King Kong (wait… that sounded weird). The deep love between Kong and Jessica Lange’s character brought me to tears. There’s something about the tragedy of an unrequited love that’s always moving. I usually play the big trouble-causing ape in my relationships.

3. I can no longer deal with guys who try and fight for power in my relationships. I don’t want to compete with my dates. If I wanted a serious relationship, I would like one where we try to empower each other, one where we would aspire to build the other up, not break them down because of insecurities. I know I’m not the easiest person to date, especially in my line of work. I’m surrounded by talent and sexiness, so it takes a strong individual to be able to handle me. The point is I can be a real pain in the ass, but I’m super lovable… what?

4. The perfect day for me would be brunch with my framily (friends/family), then we’re off to rehearse a new ridiculous show we’re doing. We would then take a thrift store shopping break, but I’d have to ditch them to make my dance class at the Sweat Spot. The day ends with a big fat bowl in bed watching bad TV. Yeah… that’s about right. Love comes in many forms, and each person can give us something different and valid. For me, my friends are more than enough. Anything more is gravy… but I do like gravy a lot.

5. Bill Withers’ “Lovely Day”:

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)”:

I wrote this song about my darling Aleksandr. It started as an A cappella song and morphed into an acoustic song, then I decided I liked it better A cappella so I switched it back. That’s the version you hear below. “We Were Around Before” is the last song on my “Everything You Touch Turns To Gold” E.P. (available exclusively on Bandcamp HERE free).

Have a listen:

Click the album cover below to download “We Were Around Before (A cappella)” from Logan Lynn’s “Everything You Touch Turns To Gold” for zero dollars on Bandcamp!

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 3/14/2012)

This past weekend my partner and I went to see a performance of A Lesson Before Dying, Romulus Linney‘s play set in a small Louisiana bayou town in 1948. It was based on the 1993 novel of the same name by Ernest J. Gaines and is about a young black man who has been wrongfully accused, convicted of murder, and awaits his death in the parish courthouse. While in court the convicted man’s life is compared to that of a hog, and this becomes his truth. His godmother enlists the unwilling aid of the town’s young plantation teacher to carry out her mission of teaching her godson to walk to the electric chair like an innocent man rather than the animal the white man has made him out to be throughout his life. Questions of racism and morality are confronted in visits between the two men for the duration of the piece and, in the end, the lessons shared and learned transform them both — along with the entire town.

After the very moving, emotional performance ended, founders of the August Wilson Red Door Project (an organization that “uses the arts as a catalyst for creating lasting, positive change in the racial ecology of Portland”) took the stage for a dialogue about the experience we had just collectively emerged from. Their organization posits that “all people, regardless of personal, cultural, and social history, internalize values and beliefs of the world they have been raised in. While some of these values and beliefs enable creative achievement and success, others create a sense of profound limitation and self-doubt. This doubt can be described as internalized oppression — a process by which people come to accept and internalize the inaccurate myths and stereotypes they have been exposed to.” The idea is that “no one is immune from having to wrestle with a sense that something is holding them back, regardless of background or privilege”, and they founded their organization on the belief that “with the right education, exposure, and support, everyone is capable of growing their capacity to create, to achieve, and to thrive.”

At one point during the very emotional post-performance chat, while illustrating how this particular story speaks to a universal human rights issue and making a correlation between the civil rights movement in the United States and some current world affairs and battles being fought in the name of race and religion in other lands, someone in the audience said the following four words about Americans: “We are past racism.” The room fell silent, aside from a few gasps. I could feel the sting in the air and could see the pain that one sentence had caused in the faces of many others in the room.

Traditional slavery may be over in America, but most of us know that racism is still alive and well in this country and the rest of the world. I agree that oppression is a universal issue that extends beyond race, but to say that we are beyond racism is just simply not accurate. This internalized oppression is its own form of slavery, so in some respects even slavery lives on; it just looks different these days than it used to. This brand of slavery imprisons the mind and poisons the spirit. It keeps us shackled to an idea someone else has about our worth and tells us we are wrong to feel human, that we are not equal, and that we are, in fact, nothing but a hog being fattened up for the kill.

The fight for civil rights continues to this day around race, gender, sexuality, class; many of us are still being told by our country that we are animals, undeserving of the same rights and protections granted to our fellow citizens, and we too often believe them. We accept the limitations put upon us by the world around us, and we perpetuate the dehumanizing messages being drilled into us because, on some level, over time, we have taken them to heart and made them our truth. In the end, we become the stereotype.

My dream is that we can transform; that we are brave enough to identify the inner oppressor and cast him out; that we are able to break free from the prisons we have been placed in by fear and hate and instead, honor who we are as people. We are all human beings with voices that deserve to be heard, and we all have the power to change the world.

Your life is just as valuable as anyone else’s, and you can be free if you choose to be, no matter what your mind is shackled to. No one has the ability to take your humanity from you. They can sure try (and, believe me, they will try), but it is only theirs if you give it to them.

Internalize that!

(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…

Hey folks! I was the guest on Out Loud Radio this week chatting about life, love, music, activism, the church, and a whole bunch of other really gay stuff.

Have a listen HERE or download the MP3 of the show HERE.

xo
LL

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 2/28/2012)

A recent study led by researchers at the Harvard School of Public Health has found that one in 10 children faces an elevated risk of sexual, physical, and psychological abuse due to gender nonconformity (meaning kids whose interests, pretend play, and activity choices before the age of 11 fall outside the bounds of those typically expressed by their assigned sex). As a result of the abuse, many will suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) by young adulthood, which can lead to a smörgåsbord of risky behaviors such as drug abuse, promiscuity, and self-harm, as well as producing physical symptoms such as chronic pain and cardiovascular problems.

Having been born one of these gender-nonconforming kids many years ago, I know firsthand the experience described in the study. These new findings suggest that even if I had not been birthed into a fundamentalist Christian cult, my parents would still have had their work cut out for them with regard to keeping me safe. (I plan to add this new info to my ever-growing parental forgiveness file as soon as I finish writing this.) Sad as it may be, from the moment I took my first breath, I was something of a moving target in this world.

Though I have identified as a cisgender male my whole life, as a kid I always enjoyed playing with dolls, making jewelry, singing, acting, and dancing — all things considered “girly” by society and, at the very least, by the mean kids I grew up around in rural Nebraska. I gravitated toward girls my own age back then, not because I wanted to be one of them but because they were nice to me, and we had the most in common. The other boys took note of these similarities, and they teased me relentlessly.

I was a sweet, sensitive kid who didn’t like sports, which made me the target of much bullying and harassment from kids my own age all the way until college… but this isn’t breaking news. Everybody already knows that we faggy kids get our asses kicked as we grow up, and most of us don’t need a Harvard study to tell us what the long-term effects of that abuse are, because we are still living them out to this day. But hey, it gets better, right?

I can’t tell you how many times in my life I have heard the argument that people turn gay as a result of being sexually abused as children. As a survivor of extensive early-childhood sexual abuse myself, I have always found this to be the most disturbing of all attempts by others to pathologize and discredit my adult sexuality. This theory basically states that the man who raped me when I was a child has now somehow programmed my sexuality for the rest of my life, that the violence I repeatedly endured as a young boy is now the filter for all the love I have received since, or will ever receive. This is just simply not the case. I rejected this archaic notion long ago, and I am always surprised when otherwise thinking people haven’t already done so as well.

What I find most interesting about this new study is their assessment that boys who acted outside gender norms faced three times the risk of sexual abuse over their conforming counterparts, and that both nonconforming men and women showed rates of PTSD almost double those considered “normal.” This means that not only was I three times as likely to get assaulted as a “girly” 7-year-old than if I had been a “butch” kid, but also that I have had the pleasure of being twice as likely to feel traumatized in the years since. Instead of assuming I am gay because I was abused, doesn’t it seem at least three times more likely that I was abused because I was gay? To me, this is a no-brainer, but it’s relieving to have this new science back up what I have been saying for years.

If you are the parent of a gender-nonconforming child, please understand how important your role is in your child’s survival. You will need to be three times as alert, three times as cautious, and three times as accepting to counteract what you (and they) are up against. Love them into overtime. They are going to need it.

For the rest of you who feel compelled to take action, I suggest that you consider mentoring and/or fostering LGBT and gender-nonconforming children and young adults who are being bounced around in the local system where you live. You have the power to change someone’s life simply by being that safe space for them, whether it’s in your classroom or your living room. If you can’t commit time to a foster care or mentorship program, find a queer youth organization and write a check.

We can no longer just sit around and tell these kids that “it gets better,” cross our fingers, and hope that it does. We have to find ways of actually making it better now. The time has come for us to demand better from our schools, from our community leaders, and from each other. Dietrich Bonhoeffer is quoted as having said, “The test of the morality of a society is what it does for its children,” and I, for one, agree with him.

Can you guess which one is me?

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 2/22/2012)

As individuals in a marginalized group, we are often all placed together into a single pot by society. In this case, I am referring to the queer pot (but this happens around race, gender, age, religion, class — you name it). All of us, as members of the LGBT community, with all our differences, have this one thing in common: we are the minority. There is something about all of us that is unlike much of the rest of the world, and much of the rest of the world’s reaction to that difference can be painful, isolating, and dangerous.

Frequently, members of the greater community become fixated on our sexuality or gender expression, and they try to lump us together, assign us roles within our designated letter of the acronym, and dehumanize us in the process. One would hope this outer pressure would be enough to bring us together as LGBT people, that we would unite and become stronger in numbers and build a community so organized and powerful that our being a minority no longer mattered. Sadly, this has not been my experience as a man-loving man, nor in my work with gay organizations, nor as an out artist in the entertainment industry.

Being a public figure in the queer community is tough. You have to have pretty thick skin to tolerate the external homophobia that comes at you as a result of increased visibility, but I think I was raised to expect this, so it’s never a big shock when it happens. I know the world wants to see me dead on some level, or at least see me stop being such a “goddamn fag,” so it doesn’t surprise me when that pressure arrives. I recognize it coming a mile away and have learned methods of processing the external hate in such a way that it no longer hurts me. I have not, however, found or been able to develop a way of moving through the crab mentality of my own community without injury.

For those of you who have not heard this saying before, “crab mentality” (also known as “crabs in the barrel,” or “crabs in the bucket”) refers to the metaphor of a pot of live crabs about to be killed. Individually, the crabs could escape from the pot without any trouble, but when they are all in the pot together, they grab at each other in a pointless domination game that prevents any of them from escaping, thus ensuring their collective demise. When related to human behavior in social movements, the term is most commonly used in association with a short-sighted, non-constructive approach instead of a unified, long-term, productive mentality. As an openly gay musician, I have experienced this problem mostly via the gay press. Certainly, I’ve received my fair share of nasty emails and messages from people online and in person over the 10-plus years I’ve been doing this, as well, but there’s a distinctive sting that comes from someone in the queer media pulling me and my people back into the pot, and I believe that action trickles down into our culture and leaks out into our community consciousness from there.

In 2009, just as my record From Pillar to Post for The Dandy Warhols was about to be released, a major LGBT magazine in the U.K. (which shall remain nameless purely out of my not wanting to promote their shitty rag on The Huffington Post) ran a story on me that called me a fat, ugly, “ginger bear,” stating at one point in the article that “Logan Lynn is proof that some music is best listened to with your eyes closed.” I remember standing in the bookstore with my friend, reading it and remarking on how strange the feeling of being made fun of in print was.

I had gotten bad reviews before, but that’s not what this was. This particular gay male writer had actually enjoyed the record; he just didn’t like my fat, ugly, “ginger bear” body, and he proceeded to tell the rest of the queer community of Europe in glossy, major-magazine print that they shouldn’t, either. What was the point of that? What about my face had made this writer be so cruel? I did my best not to internalize this new form of bullying, bought all the copies of the magazine wherever I went the rest of the month to minimize the local damage (something I had seen Carrie Bradshaw do on Sex and the City once), and counted the days until the next issue came out. This experience left me wounded, in spite of my attempts at not internalizing it, and the effects of this writer’s “review” remained with me for years.

I started working with Portland’s LGBT community center in 2010 and have noticed this all-too-familiar crab mentality playing out on the local level here, as well. I fear this may be the nature of queer culture and media these days. Sensationalized “news” pitting community members against the organizations working to help them, reporters all seeking out gossip for sound bites instead of facts for real stories, editors infusing the personal opinions of publishers into their political reporting, papers highlighting advertisers instead of readers to secure funding — the list goes on and on, and more often than not, the keepers of our community voice have their own agendas they are pushing.

These hidden agendas get picked up by the people receiving the message and spread like a virus from there, disguised as the community’s voice, but it’s not actually the community’s voice anymore; it’s just some asshole who wants you to buy what they are selling, some king crab with more influence than you who doesn’t want you to see the big world outside the crab pot. This is why it is so important for us to be the keepers of our own stories, and why LGBT organizations that help to facilitate a more unified community are vital to the ongoing progress of our movement.

If you don’t like how your story is being told, disengage from the ones telling it and find ways to tell it yourself. They are everywhere! If you are an advertiser, get to know the content of the media outlets you support with your marketing dollars. Do you agree with how they are portraying your community? If not, find media outlets that are more in line with your values — or get the word out about your business through partnerships with nonprofits and resource centers doing the work you actually want your dollars to support.

I challenge the local, national, and international queer press to step back and look at the bigger picture. I suggest that you work harder to be journalists instead of just lazily stirring the pot we have been placed in by those who would do us harm. Empowering the LGBT community and our allies rather than being the evil media crab claw that pulls us down to our collective demise will no doubt serve you better in the end. Some of us are actually still paying close attention to what you print, and we can tell the difference between the two.

(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

I’ve been releasing acoustic versions of new songs every few weeks since December and let another one out this evening. It’s called “The Tree You Named After Me” and is yet another collaboration with teenage pop phenom Noah Daniel Wood on guitar & David Appaloosa (from Portland indiepop boyband The Hugs) recording and quick mixing the whole thing for us.

Have a listen:

Click the album cover below to download “The Tree You Named After Me” from Logan Lynn’s “Everything You Touch Turns To Gold” for zero dollars on Bandcamp!

(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 – 1/2/2012)

The first 12 years of my career were spent writing songs about loss and longing, so in some way I suppose I owe the fact that you are even reading this on The Huffington Post to my own unhappiness. Historically, I have felt most at home in heartbreak, both in art and in life. It’s largely what I knew growing up, so everything else felt foreign and wrong as an adult. For years, people being kind to me felt painful. I was terrified of anyone actually knowing me. It’s pretty fucked-up — and I still struggle with this. It’s a jagged part of my makeup that I will most likely be working on for the rest of my days.

I first learned about how sad the world can be when I was 7 years old, courtesy of a much older family “friend” who just couldn’t keep his hands off me. I won’t get into the specifics around the abuse suffered, but it was ongoing and horrible and went undetected for many years. The scars from this experience in my formative days have done just that: they formed me. They changed who I was and how I looked at the world, and they altered my sense of self at its core. All of this was complicated by the fact that I also happened to be a gay man born into a fundamentalist Christian home. It was a perfect storm for me to go completely apeshit, which I did.

I began experimenting with drugs and music around the same time, both before my 11th birthday. By 14 I was a full-blown, cigarette-smoking, drug-addicted alcoholic with headphones and a notebook who fancied himself a singer-songwriter. Those same old scars now rooted me on as I built an impenetrable wall of sadness and sound around myself. They gave me words and melodies to purge the feelings that could not be killed chemically, and I began seriously writing and recording music when I was 17. Those first songs would become my debut record, GLEE, which was released in 2000. At the time of its initial release, nobody knew what I was trying to do. I recall a lot of head scratching and people being really uncomfortable with the lyrical content, mostly, so I decided to take a break and focused solely on partying my brains out for the next five years.

In 2006, prompted by more unfortunate heartbreak of the drugged-out variety, I released a self-titled album, Logan Lynn, a mixture of songs from my debut and new material I had been working on. It was surprisingly well received, particularly by the queer community. I opened for The Presets and My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult at Folsom Street Fair for over 400,000 people and caught the attention of MTV‘s Logo network, which immediately started playing my videos. This was where things started to change for me. Suddenly I had over 100,000 folks in my online networks, had been nominated for some awards, and was getting a ton of press, for both my music and my party-boy lifestyle.

In 2007 I released the Feed Me to the Wolves E.P. and got signed to The Dandy Warhols-owned and operated Beat the World Records, with a distribution deal through Caroline/EMI. My music career was starting to peak, but my addictions had snowballed. I was freebasing 28 grams of cocaine a week and drinking gallons of vodka around the clock to balance it out. By the time I was admitted to rehab (for the fourth and, fingers crossed, final time) four years ago, I had suffered a partial stroke, had been fired by the Weinstein Company from an in-production reality show after over six months of invasive filming, was fired from the job said reality show was about, and lost my band, my friends, my partner, my dog, my house, and my words and had nothing left — nothing but that record deal and the scars.

So I used them to get myself well. I threw out the record I had been working on before rehab and started from scratch. In 2009 I released From Pillar to Post and did tons of interviews about getting clean as a way of holding myself publicly accountable. It was not the traditional way someone handles their breakout pop-music moment, but I needed to be honest about what was happening with me or I wasn’t going to be able to do it. The strange fame and recognition that came with the commercial success of that record and my suddenly being all over the TV freaked me the fuck out, and I no longer had chemicals to make it better. All I had was the truth, so I put it out there — all of it — not thinking about what it really meant for everyone to know everything about me. As a relatively shy, private person, afraid of being seen or known, this brand of overexposure didn’t set well at the time.

I was feeling pressured by my publicist, label, and collaborators to do more, say more, be more, go more places. I released a single to try to ease some of the professional pressure, but there was no break from the sadness, because now the sadness was fueling a business. I no longer owned myself or my words. I was taken back to that place from years before, feeling owned and ruined and hurt by the world. This was a new kind of heartbreak, however. It was the heartbreak of realizing that the thing that had always made me feel better had now become the very thing that was making me miserable. I did the only thing I knew how to do in that moment: I wrote songs and planned my escape. I was sick of being professionally sad and was just completely done with people relating to me on that level. In June 2010 I announced that I was going on an indefinite hiatus and released two in-progress records, I Killed Tomorrow Yesterday and Blood in the Water, myself, just months apart — no label, no PR campaign, no radio. I fired everyone around me and set off to explore a regular life, which I am pleased to report I found.

In the 18-plus months since, I have thrown myself into working full-time for LGBT rights at Portland’s Q Center. In being around people who truly care about my well-being and about humanity at large, I’ve realized that those scars from my early days are beautiful if you look at them just right. All of the heartbreak from the years is just part of my story, and my story is just getting started. I am not shaped by the experience of abuse and heartache any more than I am shaped by the experience of surviving them, and I am not driven by sadness any more than I am driven by joy — I just needed something joyful to write about.

I’m reminded of a quotation by author Rachel Naomi Remen that my mother sent me with regard to this very thing:

Wounding and healing are not opposites. They’re part of the same thing. It is our wounds that enable us to be compassionate with the wounds of others. It is our limitations that make us kind to the limitations of other people. It is our loneliness that helps us to find other people, or to even know they’re alone with an illness. I think I have served people perfectly with parts of myself I used to be ashamed of.

Love has made a home in my life and songs these days, shining new light on old wounds, bringing with it new words and melodies. I hope love makes a home in your lives, too. We are all so much more than our scars.

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?