Kevin Ohi. Unless you are one of the enlightened denizens at Boston College who has discovered the school's practically non-existent queer theory program, that name is as much a mystery as the man behind it. Standing at a lanky and awkward 6 feet, this half-Asian John Cusack dreamboat seems to elude all the dreadful pigeonholes queer theory professors could accidentally lodge themselves into. His proclivity for 80's child stars, as evidenced by his collection of Corey Feldman t-shirts, and tendency to simultaneously horrify and delight his students with unlikely comparisons and quiet witticisms (he once compared the children from Botticelli paintings to boiled wontons) have made him somewhat of a BC celebrity. Although I graduated two years ago, I am still in contact with the enigmatic genius, which is a testament to his dedication to his students and probable propensity for young boys who flirt with him (I may or may not have punctuated his name with an exclamation point on every one of my papers for the two classes I took with him).
I mention this man now not just out of pure nostalgia, but also because his encouragement has made a huge impact on my success as a writer, as limited as it may be. Most recently, I was commissioned to write a weekly review on a television horror anthology called Fear, Itself for a website I regularly contribute to, Cinescare.com. All my previous work for the website has been unpaid, but it seems my persistence has gained enough respect in the Cinescare office for me to be offered $30 for four reviews--meager, I know. Although I might as well write the reviews for free, being paid at all for something I've written seems to justify labeling myself a "free-lance writer." Before, it was just a way to glide through family parties and awkward introductions without sounding like a degree-wasting imbecile, but now it's nearly the truth! I could not have accomplished this half-success were it not for the wide-open subject matter of the final paper for Kevin Ohi's queer theory course. It was a stunning meditation on the protection of the potentially queer child in the 80's vampire flick, The Lost Boys (coincidentally, starring both Corey Haim and Corey Feldman). The editors at the website loved the essay, and I've been churning out reviews of absurd horror films ever since.
To those who are already disciples of Mr. Kevin Ohi (you know who you are): his book, Innocence and Rapture, which I am currently plunking awkwardly through, contains language of unparalleled perfection, and reading it makes you feel like you are sitting in his classroom once again, though the edits make everything seem much less panicked and strange. I also had the pleasure of sitting in on one of his lectures at Harvard; he discussed annunciation in the Almodovar film, Talk to Her. His answers during the question portion of the lecture were eloquent, yet humble, as he frequently finished statements with "but I could be totally wrong." Then, as he spoke of the future of the article he was reading, he said "I still have to add a section on Proust...obviously." A strange little man with a big and scary brain, Kevin Ohi remains mostly a mystery.
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