柳喬之 Taka Yanagi

最近セックスについてのエッセイをあげるようになったんだけど、その経緯について少し😌 日本にいた頃、自分がゲイであることも恥じてて、性欲も汚れたものだと恥じてて、とりあえず本当に恥まみれで、自分が惨めでした。 そこでニューヨークに来て、初めてできたゲイのお友達がそんな僕のこと「え、そんなの全然珍しくも、変でもないよ」と思わせてくれてから、僕は自分のことをやっと肯定できるようになって。 だから僕はこのエッセイが、ふふっと笑ってもらいながら、「自分が恥ずかしいと思ってることも、そんなに恥ずかしくないのかもなぁ。まぁ人間だもんなぁ」って思える場所になって、少しでも生きやすくなるきっかけになったら、そんな幸せなことないです☺️ @takaislost?r=4dco8v&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=stories&shareImageVariant=image" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener">substack.com/@takaislost?r=…

A solo picnic in the park. Right in front of me, a young gay couple is sprawled on the grass, kissing passionately without a care for prying eyes. I watch them and smile, letting out a small chuckle. We just happen to be there, inside their little world for two. Go for it. Full steam ahead.

@toyamayuudai 嬉しい！！ありがとうございます☺️

@dvdtyng 素晴らしい文章力に惹きこまれました

男が平日の昼間っからゲームをしている。仕事もせずによくもまぁ、生きていられるものだ。かく言う私も平日の昼間っからフェラチオをしにきた。私の日常におけるフェラチオの優先順位は異様なほど高い。多分親のお葬式と被っても私はフェラチオに向かう。みんな好きなように生きたらよろしい。ニューヨークは、本当に色んなことを教えてくれる。 続きはこちらから😌 『世界で一番「安心」な街、ニューヨーク』 open.substack.com/pub/takaislost…

公園で1人ピクニック。目の前で若いゲイのカップルが人目も憚らず、芝生の上に寝っ転がってひたすら熱いキス。見てるとふふって笑顔になる。2人だけの世界に私たちが居合わせてるだけよね。いけいけどんどん。

ニューヨークを散歩してて、お小便の匂いがすると「あぁ、自由の匂いだなぁ」と心が落ち着きますの

やっほ

A grown man, playing video games in the middle of a weekday. This is what he’s doing. Then again, here I am, in the middle of a weekday, showing up to give a blowjob. The priority I assign to blowjobs in my daily life is disturbingly high. I’d probably still show up even if it overlapped with my parents’ funeral. People really should just live however they want. That’s what New York taught me. Read the full essay here 😗 “New York, the safest city in the world” open.substack.com/pub/takaislost…

お腹弱いくせに揚げ物を食べすぎて、ずっとうんちを我慢して歩いてるのと一緒である。漏れませんように、漏れませんように。そう願いながら私はカメラの前で笑っている。 世界で一番『安心』な街、ニューヨーク open.substack.com/pub/takaislost…

@yabuyabu987 ですよね！辛い🥺

@dvdtyng 子供のﾀﾋ者が石を積んでるイメージですね(´･ω･｀)

賽の河原ってみんなイメージわく？

エッセイのための語彙調査

日本ってさ、新宿以外でもゲイの子たちのコミュニティってあるのかな？日本でゲイ隠してたから、自分は全くゲイのコミュニティとの繋がりがなくて、今のみんなどんな感じで過ごしてるんだろうって思って。寂しくしてないといいな。

最新作エッセイ「世界で一番『安心』な街、ニューヨーク」 私の人生は、人の視線でできていた。大げさに言ってるわけじゃなく、文字通り「人からどう見られるか」に私は命をかけていたー。 要するにフェラチオのお話です😇 open.substack.com/pub/takaislost…

New Essay “New York, the safest place in the world “ My life was built on other people’s eyes. Literally. It was life or death. In middle school, “Taka, your hair’s so frizzy and wavy, it looks weird,” so I got a straight perm. Then it was, “You walk kinda gay,” so I fixed my walk. Every reflective surface became routine maintenance, and that got me labeled a narcissist. Apparently I couldn’t win. What exactly was I supposed to do? Fine. If checking itself was the problem, I just needed to make sure there was nothing left to fix. So: an hour every morning with a straightening iron, enough hairspray to turn my head into a helmet, and a walk tightened just enough not to look feminine. All the way to school. Every day. Everyone felt like the enemy. I had to look good. I had to be perfect. And yet, somehow, I ended up becoming a model. A job built entirely on looks. That was never the plan, but I guess whatever messes you up as a kid just follows you for the rest of your life. This industry is full of people who are just absurdly beautiful. When I meet a naturally good-looking guy—the kind that just grew that way—I almost want to press my palms together and bow at the purity of his soul. They’re kind, no chip on their shoulder, and most of all, there’s not a trace of tension in the way they’re being looked at. Me, I’m more like a farm-raised version of handsome. I’m just grateful if I can even pass as good-looking, but the moment I loosen up even a little, I feel like I’ll snap back into that old, disgusting version of myself. The higher the expectations, the worse the crash, and I’m the one raising them. It’s like having a weak stomach but eating a mountain of fried food anyway, then walking around clenching, praying you don’t shit yourself. Please don’t let me shit myself. Please don’t let me shit myself. That’s me, smiling in front of the camera. Over time, I learned how to make my face behave in photographs. It was nothing like before. The intensity of my smile, the angle of my body, how much to soften my mouth, eyes just approachable enough. This time, I was the one in control of how I was seen. The gaze that had once terrified me no longer had the power to wound me on its own. If I prepared properly and got the light on my side, it was no longer a weapon. It became a product. And honestly, once it became a product, it felt a little good. The version of me they were looking at was a direct-to-consumer item, manufactured, processed, and quality-controlled entirely by me. The kind with the producer’s face on the label. When someone looked at me and seemed to receive me without resistance, I felt like I had carefully wrapped only the presentable parts of myself and completed the delivery without incident. There was a private thrill in that. But that pleasure was conditional. The only version of me I could present in public was the one I had neatly wrapped. A slack face was out. Weird bangs were out. The moment I cut corners, the gaze would turn on me again. So I kept moving through the world the same way I always had: asshole clenched tight, praying I wouldn’t shit myself. And then I came to New York. open.substack.com/pub/takaislost…

Essay “Second Sunday” open.substack.com/pub/takaislost…

エッセイ「セカンド・サンデー」 open.substack.com/pub/takaislost…