John Mayer: Almost Fully Gay

TELEPHONE NOISE

TELEPHONE NOISE

“Weir here.”

“Bobby, what’s with the interview?”

“Is this Charo?”

“Do you know Charo?”

“No.”

“And do I have a thick wherever-the-hell-she’s-from accent?”

“Oh, it’s racist to hear accents.”

“It’s John Mayer.”

“I know a Josh Meyers.”

“I’m him.”

“Well, which one are you? John Mayer, Josh Meyers, or Charo? I don’t appreciate these crank phone calls.”

…

“Josh Meyers.”

“Oh, hey, Josh.”

“The interview, Bobby.”

“Which one? I do a lot. Someone hits record and starts asking me questions, I start talking. Just muscle memory at this point.”

“The one in Billboard that was supposed to be about me that you hijacked by reading from your dream journal.”

“It wasn’t a dream, Josh. It was a vision. I was awake. Gotta read carefully.”

“Oh, I did read carefully, Bob. Allow me to quote:”

“We were playing…and suddenly I was viewing this from about 20 feet behind my head, and I looked over at John from that point of view and it was 20 years later and John was almost fully gay. I looked over at Oteil and his hair was white. I looked over to my left and Jeff’s hair was all gray.”

…

…

…

“I don’t see the problem.”

“What the fuck, Bob? What does ‘almost fully gay’ even mean, and why am I it?”

“Could be a typo.”

“That’s what I thought, but I called the reporter and he said that you personally verified that quote three times and spelled it out and made him repeat it back to you.”

“Ah. Wait, yeah: I remember. It was at one of the Forum shows and I vivaspirated–”

“Not a word.”

“–from my body, and rose up twenty or thirty feet. Then I got a little tangled up in the rigging, but things worked themselves out. And, you know: it was the future. We have a Time Sheath, y’know, so the future’s not that foreign. Oteil was playing, and so was Jeff: both of them were so old that they had gone gray.”

“Jeff’s hair is gray. Very, very gray. Noticeably so.”

“Oh, no. No. Redhead. Ginger fellow. Plays guitar.”

“You’re thinking about Trey, Bobby.”

“Damn. Who’s Jeff?”

“Your keyboardist?”

“My keyboardist? He should be careful: they die a lot.”

“And then you saw me?”

“And you were almost fully gay, yeah. 90%? 95%? Put it this way: your cup of gayness wasn’t overflowing, but if you carried it across the room too fast, you would spill.”

“Bob.”

“Imagine you had a carton of eggs with one missing. Now imagine the eggs were gayness.”

“Bob.”

“To be honest, I was disappointed in you for not living up to your potential. ‘Almost’ is for horseshoes and hand grenades, not homosexuality, Josh.”

“Bobby, I’m straight. I have sex with many women renowned for their beauty.”

“Sure, now. I’m talking about twenty years from now, when you’re still in the Grateful Dead with Ghost Billy and Mickey and Hologram Bobby. Almost fully gay.”

…

“There’s a Hologram Bobby?”

“Yeah. Shapiro had ’em whip one up for Fare Thee Well shows. Just in case.”

“Makes sense.”

“At the time, yeah.”