The gay writer and raconteur returns to Joe's Pub with new tales and old faves.
By Brandon Voss
If you haven't wound up in an Isaac Oliver anecdote, have you truly lived? After two sold-out engagements last year, the celebrated writer and raconteur will return to Joe's Pub this Saturday, February 27, with Isaac Oliver Sits Down, during which he'll spin sordid new yarns and read selections from his debut collection of essays, Intimacy Idiot, one of NPR's Best Books of 2015. Oliver sat down with us to explain why he's pretty much become the gay Taylor Swift of literature.
Next: Tell me about the fine art of sitting down. Is it a skill you've mastered?
Isaac Oliver: What's better than sitting down? Nothing. It's truly one of my favorite things to do in the entire world. I'm always thinking about it when I'm not doing it — waiting for the subway, going into bars, walking somewhere. The minutes between sits are excruciating. Also, I have terrible posture and my body hurts, so it feels vigorous.
You'll be reading old favorites and sharing some new stories at Joe's Pub. Which of the new tales will mortify your parents the most?
Oh, god, all of them. I caught a guy sneaking photos while I was blowing him. Another started muttering in Latin when he came — I was convinced he was going to murder me. I was a guest PA on a gay porn set. Thank god my parents can't make it to this one.
How has your life changed since the release of Intimacy Idiot? Sexually speaking, of course.
I suppose this shouldn't be surprising, but guys are pretty hesitant to hook up with me now. "I don't want to be written about," is something I've heard on Grindr several times lately. So I bit the dick that fed me. I'm also trying to date more, but it makes for an awkward moment at dinner when you say you're a writer, and he asks you what you've written, and you say a book, and he asks what it's called, and you have to say, "...Intimacy Idiot."
The Advocate named you one of their People to Watch in 2015. What would I have seen if I'd actually watched you from outside your window all year?
Brandon, that is my nightmare — a man at the window! Jesus Christ, I'm chilled to the bone. But, to answer your question, you would've seen a lot of: log-flogging, phone meltdowns, grateful sobs, rosé sips, Amazon refreshes, that guy who started muttering in Latin, and the yearlong blossoming of a rewarding new anxiety and sleep disorder.
I heard from a jealous mutual friend that you've seen Hamilton twice, including once when Barack Obama was in the audience. Do you think you're better than us?
I've been very lucky. But better than you? That's not for us to decide. As they sing in Hamilton, or, as I call it, That Show I See Frequently, "you have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story."
Next, February 2016.
Photo: Luke Fontana