I killed off my Twitter account. It’s not like I was really thrilled with the vibe there for quite some time, but shit got super creepy, super fast there, when a megalomaniac rich boy decided to make it his vanity project. On the one hand, I had this moment of anticipatory grief when I was about to pull the trigger. There were over 3,000 people following the account. On the other hand, I think I actually interacted in a meaningful way with about 20 of them on any regular basis.
So I’ve doubled down on other forms of social media, and will be trying to post more regularly on Instagram and Mastodon, in case there are folks interested in the pithy, abbreviated versions of my musings. As a treat, I’m sharing some new, yet-to-be published 3D render art by my friend AR (with his permission, of course), teasing the 6,000 or so homoerotic wrestling fiction stories we’ve been percolating on for the past 5 months. My guess is that not all of them will ever really come out the other end as finished products, but we already have quite a few complete, illustrated, DEVASTATINGLY hot, illustrated homoerotic wrestling stories in the can to share in the coming year. And even the ones that may not turn into finished products have been super fun to story board with AR.
One set of the hottest stories we’ve been working on is a collection of BG East-inspired matches. AR has used pure sorcery to conjure up a lovingly constructed set based on the original BG East ring room, and damn it all, if I didn’t get transformed into a smoking hot homoerotic wrestler to take on my favorites. It blows my mind every time I see it. One of the delightful side effects of collaborating on fiction and art with him, has been this amazing opportunity to compare detailed notes about all things homoerotic wrestling, and especially BG East. The ways in which our passion for the genre overlaps and diverges is really fascinating. It’s like meeting someone who is crushing on the same guy you are, and comparing notes about all of the ways your infatuations intersect, and being delighted to discover things you enjoy different from one another.
I don’t know if I’ll ever really inhabit social media the same way, or if social media will be the same beast as tech and times and fads change so quickly, and unrestrained capitalism takes a dump on everything innovative and inspiring. But I do hope to have more opportunities to compare notes with fellow fans, to vehemently (but respectfully) disagree, to enthusiastically and passionately agree, and to be pointed in totally new directions that, separately, we might never have discovered. For the subscribers of this blog, I’m grateful for you all your comments, suggestions, and critiques (well, most of the critiques), and believe it or not, I’m not just talking about Scott Williams’ comments. Though, let’s face it, I’m a total sucker for Scott’s comments! And his pecs. But I digress… I’ve held onto this space, even when I’ve gone on extended hiatus from posting, because it’s largely an opportunity for me to explore my passions without moderation. That, in itself, has been such an amazing pathway to encounter others saying things like, “I thought I was the only one!” If reduced to 200 characters or moderated by the sensibilities of heteronormative spaces, I doubt I’d ever have had the pleasure of meeting hundreds of passion homoerotic wrestling fans to argue over things like whether crotches should be shaved, and whether Austin Cooper is sexier as a babyface jobber or a heel (<– just kidding about that last one; there’s NO question Dr. Cooper the heel is way, way sexier!).
So tune in here for Bard unfiltered. Maybe follow me on Instagram for photo/graphic focused posts, where I’m sure I’ll continue to share more dazzlyingly hot AR art, as well as my own comics, and, if you look close, some pics of me flexing my quads and speculating on whether I could make Scott cry. Or cum. Or both. And for graphics too racy for heteronormative Insta, and for more frequent, brief, unsolicited, completely unnecessary opinions, follow me on Mastodon.
For anyone missing me on Twitter, I am sorry. It’s not you. And, frankly, it’s not me. It’s Elon-fucking-Musk. But thanks for all of the ways that we continue to connect and inspire and provoke and entertain one another, circling our shared passion for homoerotic wrestling!