How Brandon Baker Caused My Car Accident Because He Couldn't Deal With Me Not Being At The Gay Erotic Expo

So all jokes about Branson's Blog and our illegitimately ill-conceived love child aside, I really do have a deep love and admiration for my friend Brandon Baker that continues to leave us, least of all anyone else, incredibly confused.

Brandon contacted me earlier today to tell me how disappointed he was that I did not attend The Gay Erotic Expo this weekend. Disappointed as well as "disappointed in me" I should say. Not that I was scheduled to be there or anything! But for one thing, he says he just missed me being there. For another, he felt like it was rude for me to host the official pre-party and post party but not even show up at the actual event that I was making money and publicity off of. Ultimately though, he noted how confused he was as to why he even cares how I choose to do business and how unbelievable it is that he was taking the time to write a lengthy email about it.

Probably as unbelievable as all that followed on my part. Because for some strange reason, I care just as much about Brandon's opinion of me as he cares about me and my business, I decide to call my pianist and tell him I'm going to be late for a rehearsal as I need to compose an email back to Brandon immediately so that he is aware of how important his concerns are to me.

I explain in my email: You know how porn stars get so little money in this business, they need side jobs usually (or escorting) to provide for themselves? Imagine how it is for someone who is not a porn star, but just a host and journalist! Brandon has an office job with RentBoy.com and makes a weekly salary so that's a little different. In order for me to be able to have the freedom of being able to go on auditions when I need to, take weeks off to do theater, etc. I have to be freelance and work for myself. And in order to make a full living off of the entertainment industry -- mainstream and adult -- I have to book myself so heavily that I seriously average about four to five hours of sleep a night except for Saturdays which I clear to sleep all day long. Therefore, it's extremely important that the time I do have off, I spend it either sleeping, resting my voice (which has become VERY important as of late!) or just resting my brain.

Beginning next week, I host The Jason Sechrest Show via KSEX on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays from 4 - 6 pm in Chatsworth that takes about as long to transport to total as it does to host, I rehearse at The Other Side in Silverlake on Tuesdays for my performances on Friday nights, I host Porn Star Games at here Lounge with James Lent on Wednesdays at 8 pm and The Porno Palace at MJ's Bar on Thursdays at 10 pm. That's SEVEN regular weekly shows I'm doing in a span of only FIVE days -- every week. This does NOT include my duties as a publicist for many companies and individual performers OR the work that has to be done on my blogs and my web site on a daily basis. Nor does it include other gigs like hosting pre-parties and post parties, auditions, indie film roles, etc.

As a side note, I was told after The Gay Erotic Expo in New York that they were so happy with me, I would be hosting the Los Angeles edition along with Jackie Beat. I didn't even get so much as a press release to let me know they were coming to town, much less an offer to have a booth, a comp entry or a press pass to come cover the show. LOL... I was booked to host the pre and post party by Anthony Lopez who was put in charge of them. Saturday I had an extra rehearsal for The Other Side all day. Sunday I shot a live chat and sex show with Tiger for my web site. I'm not laying around my apartment eating bon bons laughing my way to the bank with the couple hundred in my pocket for hosting the GEE parties. I just didn't have time and I wasn't really even officially invited by anyone, not even my friends like him. So in my eyes, it couldn't have been that important that I attend.

Still, I admit, maybe Brandon has a point. Sometimes I wonder if I should take into account the public's perception a little bit more because I'm sure everyone else thought what he did and then I look like an ass. But I have tried in the past few years to really stop caring what people think, stop trying to be the "image" and just follow what I know is the truth for me. Maybe someday I'll be able to find a happy balance. I don't know, maybe I did have a responsibility to be there. But my God, I hate the idea of there being a such thing as a "social" responsibility. I feel like anything "social" or "image" based should be at the bottom of my list of priorities or I'm feeding into some superficial way of life. I might be wading in superficiality by working in this business, but I don't want to live it myself or have it be anywhere near part of the way I do business. It should be about doing good work where I'm booked to do good work. And I can't be my best if I'm exhausted.

Still, I'm sure it wouldn't have hurt if I'd shown up and said hello. And I'm sure someone would have gotten me in. I just choose happiness and a schedule that I knew would not making me a raving bitch to everyone at the post party. *shrugs*

Okay, so anyway, I jot all this off to him in an email and am now late to rehearsal which means I'm going to be late to KSEX for my show.

And yet, after the rehearsal, as I'm driving past my apartment on the way to the station, I think, "Maybe I can just stop in for a few minutes and see what he wrote me back," despite the fact that I know it will make me even later!

I do. He understands now. He can't believe how much we actually care about what the other thinks of us. We laugh about it. It's good times. I write him back. I leave again, now extremely late.

And as I'm driving, speeding no less, I think to myself, "I should really text Brandon and let him know that I emailed him back and am now on my way to the station so that if he want to call me or text me I can be reached here."

Right.

So I start to text him and speeding at 55 miles an hour run without stopping directly into a stopped car at a stop light. I hear something break. The car I have hit is a small Sedan full of Asians. I mean, like a clown car full of them. Five of which are small children who are now crying hysterically.

Amazingly, no one was hurt. Even more amazingly, neither were either of our cars. People make fun of me for having always owned Saturns, but this is why. I swear to God, they are made of Tupperware. If they dent, they just pop right back into place.

Anyway, they let me go without even taking my license plate.

I vow I will never make fun of Asians again. Even though it's the first thing I do on my show later that day.

Of course, I call Brandon immediately and scream at him that I am going to kill him, that all of this is because he couldn't deal with the fact that I didn't show my face at the fucking expo and my day and schedule would have been smooth sailing if it weren't for him, the emails and my text messaging him.

We laugh about it and say how much we love each other and hang up the phone.

And what is the first thing he does?

Texts me while I'm driving.