Hypocrite?

Here is one I found while scourging adam4adam and craig's list. Two very different views. On the one hand I'm a hungry whore, on the other hand I hear this town has a reputation and I am on here to make friends. Make up your mind. You'll never work for Goldman-Sachs. They are decisive. Gold toilet or platinum? Duh! Gold. It's the same color as piss. Which I bet you're....I'm going to be classy and not say it.

Blast from the past

Here is one mostly for comedy purposes. Who is going to open this up and think that's a new picture? The 80's were hard on all of us. I was born in the 80's, so I know what I'm talking about. Potty training, kindergarten and dating black men with fro's while I sport my mullet. I blame Ronald Reagan.

Here is my first example:
What is the point of the rant? He spent his entire profile explaining that he's a drama queen (notice the CAPS) and at the end, he tells people to go menstruate somewhere else. I for one find this to be very insulting. I menstruate where I please. I love the start though: hey guys, xoxo. It says, I'm nice, then it goes into, where's my caps lock BITCH! I wonder how many answer to this one? I'm pretty sure quite a few do, sadly. Keep on douchebag. I'll be sitting over here with my maxipad...with WINGS!!!!!!!!!!

Debating

I've been debating if I should use my blog to put f*ed up ads guys post on adam4adam and gay.com, as well as craig's list. I'm not feeling creative, but I think this could get the juices flowing (pun really not intended). I find it funny that guys post ads like "looking for friends only" then post a giant picture of their ass. I also find it funny when guys write things like "I'm lukin 4 da one". I used to think we gay men are smarter than the average bear. I've found out in my many years of being on these seedy websites, that is not the case. So, let me finish my beer, and we'll see. More to come? (Notice I didn't write cum? That's because I'm not retarded).

Do you take the red pill or the blue pill?

Mental illness is a very hot topic these days. The days of crazy versus sane are gone. People are now depressed, manic depressive, schizoaffective, borderline, narcissistic, and it's hard to find, but just plain crazy. I don't know where I fall lately. I want to pigeonhole myself in order to make the process of coming back to reality a little easier but there are no titles to describe my emotions. I suppose I can try. Empty, deluded, roller-coaster, sad, apathetic, caffeinated, sexless, and more importantly lost. A friend of mine lost one of his old buddies in the military, an old friend of mine is off to Afghanistan and yet another friend is off to D.C. to start a new life. My sedentary lifestyle (oh god..why can't work and school begin again) also leads one to have too much time to think. If the brain is a muscle, mine looks much like Louie Anderson. The problem is not how I feel. These feelings will pass, at some point. They always do. I'm a chameleon, really. I change my colors in order to blend in with my surroundings. The problem is who will I hurt along the way.
An old friend of mine recently wanted to mend old wounds and put the past behind us. Could I? I'm so hurt by everything around me, I fear that it is much easier to hold on to the hurt and at least use that hatred to hold on to some sort of remnants of emotion. Working and studying in a mental health field, you come to realize that people do not let go of their emotions for fear of not knowing a replacement. It is hard to replace fear and hatred with love and forgiveness, especially when you've held on to that fear and hatred for so long. I hate going out lately. Being a gay man, like i've said before, is like being a teenage girl for the rest of your life. I see them, you know, talking. They chat and make idle conversation. The engines are always idling, waiting for someone to get in, go for a ride and then drop you off at your house. I don't think I have the mental capacity to deal with that. In the early years I was Mr. Socialite. I loved it. I'm a Capricorn and we're natural climbers, albeit in my case I should have focused on my career. We are pioneers and want to reach the pinnacle of anything we do. I perhaps pinnacled (is that a word?) and now I'm on a slow decline. I wear creams for old people. I don't wake up from a hangover and ten minutes later move on with my life (honestly how am I alive? Days of drinking and the next day I bounce back and go pick up auntie for lunch). Now I have to do this whole routine just to look human. I don't have the capacity of being friends with this old friend. He lives in the world of catty bitches and drama loving homos. I love drama. Trust me, I do, but lately I've been to lazy to put up much of a fight against catty bitches. I just sit there and think...you're gonna be a 50 year old lonely homo sleazing around bars trying to pick up 25 year olds at some point. Just give up the ghost. GIVE IT UP! Defeat, yes. Battle, yes. War, no.

No computer...no blog

For the past 3 weeks I have been living without internet access. My laptop was sent off to some strange place in Illinois to get manhandled by another man and eventually fixed. Something about not having wireless, which in this day and age is outrageous. Well it is fixed now. Sort of. They wiped out my programs, etc. I had to reinstall everything from skype to an illegal program that helps me deauthorize DVD's. I'm just kidding about the dvd program. ehem. Anyway, I realized how much I need the internet. It was 3am, I'm watching stargate atlantis and I could not remember if I had seen a certain actor playing gay in a movie. It turns out it was Kavan Smith and the answer is no, meaning the delusion is in my head. Granted, I could go to the public library and use their internet, but the idea of reading my email with a bunch of transients seemed less favorable than just not using the internet. Things have been okay. Jessica will be leaving soon to the big D.C. where I'm sure she will hobknob with politicians and transients, perhaps even start her own political scandal. I abhor the idea of making new friends after she leaves. I was happy in my cocoon of Jessica. She's witty, smart, beautiful and most of all always ready for a great conversation. What will I do without her?
Perhaps, get a job...I know I know. It seems like something I should do even while she's here but with all that time on my hands, I'm willing to get a job at 7-11. Teaching has never panned out the way I wanted it too. I hate teaching. It's a loathsome and wretched profession. It is underpaid and overappreciated. I have my dog Ella, but she's a dog. I'm still finding somewhere in my cold heart to love her. I take her to the vet, care for her, feed her, things like that, but when I look into her brown chihuahua eyes, all I see is a dog. A dog that perhaps I would be devastated to be without, but unhappy with. I know, I'm heartless. I can't help it. She's always getting in trouble, never docile and always hyper and just right now I had to stop her from eating lint off the floor. That's probably why I hated teaching.It's like taking care of 20 Ella's. I signed up to be a substitute teacher next school year, but August 24th is just a few weeks away and already I feel the pangs of hatred for the job. Thankless and overpaid, which is somewhat appealing, until a kid calls you a "faggot" and throws his books at you. Welcome back to Hell, I think. I have been looking for a receptionist job but who the hell wants a male secretary/office clerk/receptionist. That's a woman's job (I live in an ignorant town). It's late and I'm tired from putting together my new dining room table. It's great. counter height. I feel like i'm on top of the world. Until some little fuck calls me a faggot and throws his book bag at me.

YSaC, Vol. 313: Then again, Fergie is probably a spawn of Satan as well.

YSaC, Vol. 313: Then again, Fergie is probably a spawn of Satan as well.


I laughed so hard I peed.

Ads, Money and Even More heat

Well the married man and I are no longer. There was a simple rondavue. We talked. At first things were great. We got along well. Then his sense of failure as a husband was suddenly an issue. He didn't want to hold hands. He became distant and in the end, it came down to guilt on his part. I'm glad he made the right decision. I have no hard feelings. Plus he has a son close to my age. Don't worry, I already asked and No his son is not gay. There, I beat you to the punch.
Went on another date last Thursday. This one was exciting. He was sweet and very cute. We emailed back and forth for a while. Thursday I had the evening alone and I invited him over for some wine. He had to work Friday so just one bottle. Sad, I know. He was dressed like he worked somewhere that required him to dress like a fag. I was guessing Banana Republic but it turns out he's a case worker. I have to admit here, I am not good at first dates. I get nervous and I start to ramble. I talk about getting married and divorced in Spain or why I have never done adult films. You know, the things that make first dates awkward. He talked wryly about his job. His BMW. Here I will fully admit he did not spew off the normal crap about how great his car is. He just said he always wanted to have one and he works overtime.

I'm sitting there, feeling sorry that I have spent time in the slammer and do not really work that often when he tells me he has a 6 year old daughter. Super cute, right? I say wrong! It's baggage. It's unnatural for young people this day and age to procreate. You might say, well he's gay,is that what you mean? No. Lots of gay people have children. He's a young 26 year old gay man. I guess when he was 20 he was bisexual. I didn't care to ask. Hate me for dating married men with children then hating young men with 6 year old daughters. Hey...I saw this guy as long term material. The married guy, I wasn't so delusional so his children were mostly his baggage for me to never see. My mind has been working backwards lately.

In the end, it really didn't bother me. Its progressive in a way. He has his life together and I forget to feed my chihuahua. Deep down inside it's jealousy. The married man was great, because I can have what I want and feel good about myself for making others feel sinful and lustful and do sinful adulterous things. This guy, he's great. He's stable, his baby mamma and him are friends, great job, very good listener and funny. I hope he calls me. I got a great good night kiss and I promise to everyone reading this hear and now I was not drunk (we shared a bottle) when I kissed him good night. I got really drunk after he left. I swear. I doubt he'll call though. It's been 3 days and I'm most definitely not Gigi from "He's Just Not That Into You". I look at the cold hard facts. I smoke like a chimney, drink like a fish and have enough pharmaceuticals in me half the time I can start my own mexican pharmacy. But yet...I still have hope everybody. I think I do. It's been a long week. Wish me luck.

P.S. Sorry about the ads. It's a dog eat dog world out there and I'm just a squirrel trying to get a nut (hopefully 2, because one always looks lopsided).

Cheating, Married Men and Why is it so Goddam hot in here

As many of you know, I'm a former slut. I'm inclined to be reticent on the subject o my falls off the wagon but reticent is not who I am. I slip and fall of the chastity wagon every so often. I'm human, so sue me. Please don't actually. Married men is the term of the day. Most of my blogs happen due to arguments with friends. Some don't have blogs in order to espouse their side, so screw them. They should get their own blog. Anyway, talking to Melissa the other day, I told her this fantastic and extremely hot story that really did happen to me.
I was walking through Wal-mart. Already you know this story is full of surprises and pitfalls. Nothing good ever comes from being at that corporate hell hole. I was shopping for lean cuisines. I admit, I am getting hefty. Not noticeably but yesterday my stomach popped out from under my shirt. Also my belt broke at Dairy Queen while I was ordering a Hunger Buster. I took that as a sign. Normally at wal-mart i just get in, get out and go home. It's very much a casual relationship we have. I noticed this attractive man though while I was checking out the Kashi cereals. I glanced his way, pretty innocently. Perhaps my gaze was too long, but I paid no mind. I figured he would just walk on and be on his merry way. Suddenly I realized, he was following me throughout the store. Like pretending to be shopping in the same aisle, creepy type of following. I admit here, even though he's attractive, he was wearing cowboy boots but I forgave him because he wore great jeans and a tight blue button shirt that told me...he didn't need lean cuisine. Plus when you're feeling fat at wal-mart and someone thin and attractive hits on you, it's very flattering. More than flattering, it's fucking great.
Time passed on. He passed by me a couple of times but didn't say anything. I tried my best to be coy, but coy is yet another thing I am not. I think I blushed at one point and made a slight moaning sound (it's been a while, trust me). So as I finally gave in to my impulses, I walked by the ice cream aisle. Standing there contemplating and fighting demons, he passed by and simply whispered "Can I have your number?". He then kept walking very slyly. My heart dropped. It was all very exciting, and I shall explain. This man, my friends, was walking around with his 11 year old son, and a wedding band. In order for him to talk to me, he sent his son off to get milk or some other grocery item. Disgusting, I know. But I explain why I wasn't. I'm not married.
I walked off, my brain becoming more impulsive and lean cuisine seeming less and less appetizing. I walked off into the wine and beer aisle. My cravings became more sinful and married. I asked him if he had a paper or if he had his cell. He asked me if I was discreet and I said yes. He was a bit nervous, although for a married man to follow around a guy with his son and then ask for his number takes a lot of balls. He called me as I walked off. Told me he would love to hang out with me. That he really liked me. Thought I was hot. He has 3 kids mind you. 21, 12 and 11. He's 39 years old. A very fit 39 years old. He worked and lived in my neighborhood and said he was worried someone may find out. As we chatted over dirty pretty things, I stood in the checkout lane. As he passed by he winked at me. I could have melted.
Later, we met in some slightly secluded neighborhood. Nowhere unsafe, mind you. I'm not about to end up on the 10 o'clock news. We talked, kissed, he told me about himself and why he liked me. He told me his wife thought he was out buying some beer. I told him that nobody cared what I was doing. And there we were, two strangers in the night. He eventually tried holding my hand. An adolescent display of affection but I liked it. I don't know where I'm going with this. We parted ways. He said he would call and I figured, he has more to lose from any further "engagements" we may have so I left the ball in his court. I even removed his number from my phone book and call record. If he wants to call me, he can. I'm willing to see him again. Say what you will about me, I'm a very open person and he's the one cheating. A friend of mine judged me a little harshly and all I have to say is, "What am I doing wrong?". Nothing. Deal with it. Yay me!

Dick Cheney, Same-Sex Marriage and Gay Pride

Dick Cheney said recently that he believes all people are free to join whatever union they would like. Ann Althouse called him the "handmaiden for the left". Let's not forget here, Dick Cheney is no leftist. He is a right wing, dare I say it, nut. Watch the whole thing and you see, sure we can join a union or arrangement we like, but we do not deserve marriage. It's easy to forget history. Dick Cheney shot someone in the face. He also was behind many of George Bush's policies and here I believe that Dick Cheney showed his true colors. I do not go as far to say that he is a horrible man, but as Vice presidents go, he was most definitely a puppeteer. Any arrangement we like can be interpreted into many ways. I can go into a legal arrangement with my television that it'll turn on when I press the power button. Would it hold up in court? Probably not. He skirts the issue, as he did so well in his 8 years as vp. Gay daughter or not, he did not further our cause, but simply gave us a soundbyte. I saw the headline earlier, "Dick Cheney believes people are free to join any union they wish". It sounds great, but like most things Dick Cheney does it just sounds great. Yet again good ol' Dick lets me down. Story of my life.
On another note, Gay pride. It is the local gay pride fest this weekend. I for one, will not be joining. Call me jaded, call me bitter, call me Suzy but it just seems so useless. Stereotypes dancing on floats, mardi gras like celebrating and more men to show all the normal gay men that we do not belong. It's yet again, like being a teenage school girl for the rest of your life. Are you thin, beautiful and popular? Well if not please do not show up. So, maybe I'm not fat, ugly and a social pariah, but I'm not the other extreme either. Our nation was built on diversity but gay pride is yet another event that makes me feel like the fat girl at the prom. Sure I might have a good time, but why even bother to show up? Plus Dick Cheney never returns my calls. So I shall stay home from the ball and eat cheese and crackers with some wine. That's all the pride I need. Former slut...out.

Why Gay.com is Bad for the Gay community

There's a real world then there's an idealistic world. Every major psychology theory has a yin and a yang. Carl Rogers called it an incongruence between the real and ideal self. Medical models will tell you there is a hormonal imbalance of the brain. Freud would call it Eros versus Thanatos (death drive). Reality therapists might say that we act dysfunctional in order to fulfill unmeet needs and that our "quality world" is at odds with the real world. Existentialists would say you have meaninglessness and death anxiety driving you to a neurotic anxiety. Gestalt would say that your lack of responsibility for your own actions may come into play, as you dichotomize your life and focus on meaningful wholeness but never achieving it. Individual psychologists would say you have a inferiority or superiority complex, or maybe you're the first born and are an overachivere. Cognitive therapists would say you have an ego disturbance or perhaps your automatic thoughts drive you to your own irrational behaviors. Consequently, all these theories have a major philosophy behind your neurotic and insane behaviour. You may not know it but at this very moment the things you think, say, worry about are destroying your lives. Well my life at least. I can't point the finger. Freud would say you might want to have sex with my finger. So stop thinking about my finger! But it's such a lovely finger. Long, phallic shaped, smooth but yet a little bit hairy. Do these thoughts make you want to smoke heroin? Who gives a shit. Freud was a cocaine addicted closeted homosexual. He's like a Viennese Karl Rove.
The point is, gay.com is a horrible, disastrous place. I tried searching "gay.com" and bad and well I'm sure I could find a few links to Anne Coulter. Beautiful woman. I'm gay and I'd fuck her, if she was tied up and gagged. I'm sure somewhere a Republican is taking that sentence out of context in order to prove that all homosexuals are deviants. I beg to differ Mr. Republican. All people are deviants, only some of us wear our deviancy on our sleeves. Homophobia aside, gay.com was a website I visited since the ripe young age of 13. I just know from here on out, this is not gonna go well for me in court. "I promise your honor, I wasn't 15 pretending to be 18. That was just some crazy blog I wrote. It's all fiction". But yes, when you are young you can try to pull off anything. I never did anything. Just chatted up people, pretended to be 18. I didn't want to push my luck by pretending I was say, 26. Hell, I am 26 and I have a hard time pretending I'm that age now. Again, I digress too much.
Gay.com is not horrible, but much like any new technology it has its throwbacks. If you live in bumfuck Nebraska, you can reach out to the world and connect with your fellow man (and I have to say legally, you must be 18 to join this website). You can chat with people that may be a little far but going through the same problems as yourself. Isn't that what the internet is all about? Reach out and touch somebody. My problem is, addiction. Porn is great, but if you find yourself in front of a computer screen beating off a few hours a day, then you have a problem. Television is great, but if you spend hours wondering what the weather is like in Akron Ohio or what far-fetched thing Star Jones will be selling on QVC (arm fat cream you say?) then you have a problem. Cell phones are great but when you're the douchebag on his phone in a theater and you accidently get kicked in the head, then you have a problem (and it ain't mine, because I swear my foot slipped and I did not appreciate getting called names or being thrown out of the theater either). Every new technology is great, until it turns on you and owns you. Remember that scene in Requiem for a Dream when Ellen Burstyn thinks her fridge is talking to her? You know, the scary part wasn't that it was talking, it was that we've all been there, am i right? Sitting on the couch eating Doritos at 4am wondering what horrifying thing your fridge has in it, perhaps you've had too much wine, and you look at the fridge and it looks human to you. It can feel emotions and somehow you've either pissed it off or made it happy. Oh yeah girl, yous gonna be on TV. And Jared Leto be getting his arms cut off because although I'm sure somebody on this planet does Heroin in moderation, your son sho don't. Uh huh. I have no idea why I said that. Anyway, stop eating is my point. Put the porn away, the chicken wing down, and turn off your fucking tv because its got swine flu.

And for me, click out of fucking gay.com. Hours upon hours spent talking to douchebags who probably use their cell phones in a theater, guys asking me if i want an enema or less likely to happen but occasionally it does, random small chats. Granted I can think that eventually I'll find a guy I like, we'll settle down and get married and have 1.3 children and .74 dogs, I personally doubt it. It's an ideal world, and like any ideal world, it's not always your ideal. Each person forms their own "quality world" and most of the time it clashes with yours. I just wanted to log in, talk and see what's going on, make friends and maybe a lover or two. That's not exactly what happened. It turned into a bitch fest. Everyone screwing each other, literally and figuratively. My nails came out and I found my fingers were doing most of my socializing, social ranking and decision making. Most of these people I knew in person. You go to some queer watering hole or other and there they are. EnemaLuvr and BigPowerBottom18 are standing right there, wearing whatever trend tells them they should be wearing, pretending they are somebody else yet again.
That's the scary part. That they are real people. You can see them in the grocery store or local adult theater. I live in a kind of small town. Number 21 or something. Anyway, the possibilities of meeting someone online in real life are endless. He's your waiter at Chili's or Applebee's (do they only hire homos?). The problem is, online everyone fantasizes. They make up their own lives. They come up with their own fairy tales, and I promise you after 4 years of therapy and 2 years into my master's as a therapist, real life is not so pretty. But it is not something we should be ashamed of, just something we should face. Sure he's not 6'3 and 180 pounds. Would you want him to? That seems a little anorexic to me. I admit, I cut myself off from the technological world in some ways, but I left one gay.com account. I love to see these baboons in their wild habitat. I feel like Jane Gooddall and all the apes love Britney Spears. Powerbottom18 is most certainly not of age and should be kicked off immediately. EnemaLuvr is 38 and needs to stop saying boi. I hate homos. Sure, take that out of context, but remember we are the most bitchy group of people you'll ever meet. Being gay is like being a teenage girl, for your entire life. Now who wants that? More to come y'all. Did I just say y'all? Well shut up. I'm gay. It's a homo deficiency. So fuck you. Keep on brothers!

The Children are Our Future?

I'm at work right now. I know I should be working right now. They are working on some crap or other. I don't know. Its been a tiring day. This morning my dog was horribly frantic. I walked out with a bag of cd's instead of my lunch and I almost forgot to wear a belt. Granted it's not a horrible day, but then I realized the kids don't have P.E. today. That's 45 minutes of bliss I could've used napping or setting the classroom on fire. Things like that. I hate to say it but this job sucks. The children aren't all the bad, but I watch tv and think, whether they are our future or not is unimportant. They have no future to work with anyway. So, perhaps the children are our future, but we're not leaving them much to work with. Plus they scream a lot and ask to use the restroom every five minutes. I get 35 minutes to eat. I want to scream, but I' can't. I want to run out on them, but I'm sure some of them have already gone through that. I want to quit, but this is the only thing keeping me busy these days. School is almost out. I guess I'll just deal but you bet your sweet ass I'll be drinking like an Irishman when I get out of here.

Always the years between us, Always the years, Always the love, Always the hours

I think one of the most poignant scenes in "The Hours" is when Nicole Kidman is talking to her friend's children. She tells them that it seems she may have to kill someone in her book. She says it has to be the artist, and when the children ask why, she says " Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast." An acquaintance recently took his own life. I don't claim to be close to this person. He was a bartender. I was an alcoholic. I went to his funeral to support a close friend of his and mine. I hate funerals. I can't imagine anyone who would like them, but I mean I hate them. I honestly feel uncomfortable, anxious and clausterphobic. The close family is crying vehemently and I sit there and become selfish, thinking of my own mortality. It's as if, that's where death goes to present itself and stare me in the face. I used to laugh in the face of death. I drove my car into a wall at 80mph and came out with a scratch. I can't imagine how many times I teetered on the brink of what could be death. Everyday we experience it, crossing the street or that bite of seafood. That could be it. I know it's morbid and I don't mean to scare you. I truly don't. I think for me, what happened was a sense of change. I realized, this young man has passed away, and it made me realize how easily it can all fall apart. I once tried to take my own life. I was in a black pit of death. I was lucky. I was found. This young man was not. It opens one's eyes to everything that is out there. How easily it could fall apart but how easily one lets it.
I'm no saint. I know I have my crazy nights. Nights of driving home and not even remembering how I got home. Nights of passion with no recollection if we used a condom. Seafood. Being tested or waking up in jail. All these consequences of the mistakes we make, purposefully. I take full responsibility of what I do. Even if I don't remember. We make the choices and suffer from the consequences. My friend told me that we're just those type of people. The type that live life at about 200mph. The problem with that is that eventually the brakes will go out, you run out of gas or if you're smart, you slow down. Slowing down seems like a logical choice but it's hard and it takes time. When you live life at high speeds, the scenery becomes a blur. Slowing down forces you to see it and sometimes it's not pretty. It's a dark, desolate landscape at times, but if you go slow, I'm sure you can reach your destination. I know I'm taking the car analogy far, but it seems me and cars are not a great mix. So, for me, a car is a perfect analogy. Time to put on my seat belt and go down to third gear, sit back and watch the scenery, no matter what it is.

And the next state to approve gay marriage is....Iowa?

In a court decision today, gay marriage was deemed legal and according to the state Supreme court, same-sex marriage is equal protection under the law. Yes, that is all great, but IOWA? I can't think of a city in Iowa. Not that I think it's great. I think it's wonderful, but IOWA? Sorry, I can't get over the shock. Progressive California overturns gay marriage and it's legal in IOWA? Sorry, I'm just trying to emphasize my point. Anyway, here is the link to New York Times article on IOWA legalizing gay marriage. Let's all sit and think about this. Red middle America is legalizing gay marriage. This is great, but all these "progressive" states really need to catch up. What's next? Montana? They used to kill gays there and they're probably closer to legalizing gay marriage than California and Washington. Come on blue states...get with the program!

Click here for the article

Michelle Obama Is HOT

Sure I'm gay, but I'd switch for her in a minute. In terms of First Ladies, she's educated, maybe even more than her commander-in-chief husband, she dresses well and I think she's sexy. I also love Queen Elizabeth II. I think she's the perfect image of royalty, class, tradition and always carries a regal air about her. So when Queen Elizabeth II put her arm around our First Lady, it was like a sexy political porno. And here's the article to prove it. Click here

Horny Haberdasher Huffing Housepaint

Hello all. I hope you are having a great day. Now it's time to read my new posting on craig's list. I was bored, but I thought maybe I had a point to make, so enjoy.

Old Posting about My Time in the Slammer

We can in greatness of mind

Or of body be like the Immortals,

Though we know not to what goal

By day or in the nights

Fate was written that we shall run. – Pindar the Boeotian

It’s amazing what clarity can come with sobriety. Actually, I have no idea what I’m saying. I have Chris Martin’s voice stuck in my head. Does anyone really know where I was for 2 months? Did anyone notice me disappear? I remember when I was a kid I wanted to disappear for a while, thought to be dead, then come back a whole new person. One should be careful what one wishes for, no? I didn’t come back wholly new, but I did make a few small changes. I decided to take control of my life. Control because I have none. When I came back I was adamant about going to Barcelona to see Jose Angel. Jose Angel is a guy I’ve been seeing on and off for 3 years. I just knew I had to. Everyone thinks I’m crazy, and I, sir, neither confirm nor deny this fact. I am crazy. Wait, did I just answer my own question? I drank too much coffee this morning, sorry. So come, have a seat, and try not to spill anything on this lovely couch because if you do, I will stab you.

I was in hell for 2 months. Hell is a hyperbole. Purgatory. Limbo is where babies go, right? So no limbo for me. Anyway, it was hell. I had to clean other people’s shit all day. I had to attend these meetings where people talked about ruining their lives with alcohol. I had to think about what I’ve done to myself, sometimes for hours. It’s amazing what clarity will come with borderline insanity. I asked for an ibuprofen, and I got children’s Motrin. Really? Really. They think that I might get hooked on the goodness of the strong ibuprofen and my dear good sir; I think I just may have. You know how sometimes you can’t sleep so you take 6 xanaxes? I guess not. I do. Then I wash it all down with a giant bottle of cheap wine. It was like fixing a small patch in your house with an entirely new wall. Sometimes if I had a small headache, I would take a Percocet with some Jack Daniels. That was like curing a cold with chemotherapy. I digress, sir. This living purgatory was what I needed. It was what I deserved, and mostly because it was court ordered. They are so smart, those judges. Judicious, slow and sometimes a little gassy, but forthright. They didn’t like me. I was one of those people. You know the kind. The kind that solve their problems at the bottom of a bottle of tequila, then get into their cars and drive into some rich person’s wall. Well condos should get better property insurance, but now that’s my problem isn’t it? I deserved every bit of hell I received. Everything that came to me was due and even a little backed up. I think that’s what made it easy for me. I wasn’t wronged by the justice system. I did what I had to do, and came back. That’s where I was for 2 months…purgatory. That’s all you need to know. In all honesty, a part of me got too comfortable. It’s nice to live in your own absolution. It’s called Apocatastasis. Wiki it.

Am I excited about Spain? Like Kate Moss on a vacation to Columbia, baby. I get to see Europe for the first time. I get to stay 3 weeks, make love to the Spaniards, drink lots of vino and get married. That last one I forgot to mention. Oh yeah, well gay marriage is very legal in Spain. Jealous? Don’t be. Am I answering my own questions again? I have no idea. Everyone thinks I’m crazy yet again for getting married, but I’m almost 26 and I ain’t getting any younger. I need to hold on to somebody while I’m still young cause everything is already starting to go south, and some of them north by northwest. I am going to Valencia, Madrid and mostly staying in Barcelona. We might take a short trip to Perpignon in France. It’s a long deserved vacation. I paid my dues, now it’s time to enjoy myself. When I come back I’ll be cleansed by the Golden coasts of the Mediterranean. The air will cleanse my soul.

“See Daddy, sinners have souls too”. It brought me to tears. Shug Ray and I must be twins or soul mates or perhaps I am her reincarnated. I bawled like a baby, because it was long overdue. I don’t cry much. I have no reason too. Apathy, I can take it or leave it. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe I have emotions now. I’m still trying to muddle through all these feelings. I feel like a newborn, seeing the world for the first time. I’m so held back that sometimes I cry at Sylvan commercials. You know the scene, where he hands his mom his report card for her birthday and he has a “B” instead of a “?”. I just sit there and cry. It feels good. Sitting all alone in the dark, with The Color Purple blaring on the TV and me doing something that I don’t quite understand. Remember I used to be such a whore? Me neither.

What is the point of all this? I ask myself. I rant and rave. I try to find out why, who and when. I like this new feeling. I used to think I had all the answers, and when I didn’t, there was a bottle of Yellow Tail to help me find them. Now I just sit there till I come up with an answer. My brain, my mind, they aren’t used to me doing this. They are anticipating that sweet elixir, but I give it none. I’m no nun. I still like a nice glass of wine. I just don’t use the alcohol to solve problems or ask more questions. I have no more questions. This time around I only have answers.

A Change Would Do you Good

As a budding therapist, you think you know everything about human behavior. Knowing all the answers gets disastrously single minded and just plain not true as you get older. Coming to that slow realization depresses you, but gives you hope that finding the answers really is much more fun than knowing them.

Lately things have been going great, but emotionally it has been a rollercoaster. Deleting my myspace and facebook feels like I cut off a limb. Deleting my gay.com account makes me feel like all is lost in the department of love. The thing about it is, I got on gay.com when I was 14. That was 12 years ago. I'm in the same boat I was when I was 14. Alone. Not desperate alone or lonely alone, but simply alone. The cliche quote about insanity comes to mind. I repeated the same behavior. I would talk to someone, somehow the conversation led to sex and there I was, having sex with some guy I don't even like. How I got from deluding myself into thinking what I was doing was a healthy beginning to a relationship to realizing that it was all bullshit. So here I am, alone in my house. I live with my mom. She lives with her boyfriend. I'm changing. I'm buying her car from her. A nice early 2000's Honda for a fraction of what I would pay somewhere else. After spending 2 months in jail (I'll explain later) and then spending a month in Europe with what I thought was the love of my life, it's time I go back to work. Sure, I'm just a substitute teacher, but it keeps me busy. Being a graduate student is no longer an excuse to not paying attention to my finances and my life in general.

But the problem is, do they notice? Does my family notice that I don't go out anymore? That I stay home and have wine with a good movie and a pizza as opposed to dancing on bars and sucking some guy's dick in an alley? Well I hope they don't know some of the more seedier parts of my life, but I'm sure they can make a good guess. They know me too well to not at least guess. I think the problem for me, and the problem for them as well, is that they don't believe in change. I can preach change until I'm blue in the face, but they will find something to point out my old life. They don't realize how difficult it is to go from Tara Reid to Jennifer Love Hewitt. Bad analogy? I'll work on it. Anyway, it's Friday night. My first thought is "I want to party!", but my reasoning says "Take it easy..there's tons of Fridays ahead of you". It's true. I'm sure I'm not going to turn into a nun, but I'm sure I'm not going to die by staying in. The problem is, it's hard. It's very hard. It takes time to shed the old self from yourself. I have tons of friends that stay home and never go out. I have no idea how they do it. I want excitement and danger. I want to wake up next to a stranger and then running to a bathroom to vomit and then having my walk of shame home. I guess when I put it like that, I don't, but it was all glitz and glamour in the beginning of the night, wasn't it?

Dancing, shots, playing grab ass with some guy who has no care in the world but to use you as a warm hole. Yummy, no? I need to start doing this. So, what happens when I go out? Jail....bad sex...maybe an std...a hangover...a bad walk home. Now, what happens when I stay home with a small (emphasis on that one, because I learned the hard way those big cheap bottles will FUCK YOU UP) and just watching a movie with some pizza. A slightly bigger ass...a slight hangover....and most of my dignity intact. I'll take the latter. My friends can have their fun. They can do whatever they want, because I may be dealing with hard emotions, I have no idea what they are doing. I am free from their lives. Deleting myspace is hard, but I'd rather not know what stupid antics I would've gotten myself into. Although sometimes I dance around my house in my undies, nobody will see me. My cat isn't very judgmental either.

WASP-Y

In an effort to be more honest and forthcoming about my life to whoever chooses to read this, I decided to be a little on the bloggy side. You know, blog when it's important. Today was a day like any other. I started blogging. I rewrote a research paper and made a presentation. I took my brother to work and promised to pick up his girlfriend later. Then things went disastrously south. Jason decided to come over and make up with me. Jason is fantastic. One of the few men in my life that really has an affect on me. His deep hazel eyes, his physique and the long friendship we've had are all things that make me melt like ice cream on a hot sidewalk. Jason is straight. I mean straight. Not like after a 6 pack, maybe I'm not straight, but straight. But he's my best friend.

We had this major fight a while back. I would say a week ago. I blew up and just got really angry. He's been spending less time with me. Never makes time to hang out with me and started hanging out with another friend of mine that I just plain don't like. This friend of mine is in love with him to start. He told me once. I warned him, Jason is no good. Well in the sense of a sexual relationship. Jason and I have a strange relationship. For the last 2 years he's the closest thing to a boyfriend I've had. We fight about dumb shit, we then make up, and the cycle continues. People expect us to be together at parties. I got a phone call once asking me if i was going to some party. When I answered no, he said "Oh well Jason was going. I figured you two were going together." And so the dysfunctional relationship comes out. I know, as a budding therapist and educated man that this relationship cannot be healthy. No man can live up to him and no woman can live up to me. Well, in theory it sounds true. He would never admit it. I'm just his best friend, but we are attached at the hip sometimes.

So he came over and asked me if I wanted to join him at the university and then we can get coffee. I admit, the last time we spoke I was way out of line. I don't tell people my feelings in a coherent or rational manner at times. A slight mistake turns into a huge brouhaha. I fully admit that. Not like gay drama queen, but emotional hemophiliac-ism. I'm bleeding dry the anger I'm feeling and mostly everyone just steps back and watches me go until I'm dry as a bone. Being the naive person I can be, I figured we would sit down and have a great conversation about my anger, his anger, whatever. Like if nothing had happened. Really. It was strange. You can tell he wanted to bring it up, but then it would seem too relationship-y, so the whole ignoring what happened just seemed way too WASP-y to me. I'm not a big fan of bottling emotions or avoiding conflicts. In fact, I'm quite the opposite. But again, I melt with him. It used to be sexual but now it's more about our friendship really. My lustful feelings have come and gone. Plus I know how much sex can change people or even the wanting of sex. It's probably why Colin Farrell hasn't called me back or my neighbour doesn't say hi anymore when he waters his lawn. We can look at each other well in the dark, but daylight just seems too bright, plus his wife is nosy.

I went along. For the sake of the relationship really. I don't plan on our friendship being the same as it was, but I'm glad it wasn't another bridge I burned. I love him too much. I mean that in the most platonic way possible. We just sat there and watched Kojak pretending everything was alright. He turned to me and said "You know Kojak..." and i just tuned him out. I nodded in agreement and everything seemed right in the world again. At least on the surface. It's WASP-y I know, but I can see why they avoid conflicts. It's so much easier for both parties. Ugh, i hate myself right now. Well, until the next time I blow up and Jason and I get into another fight, then maybe we'll discuss it. Keep your fingers crossed.

Myspace and Facebook's Flaws

This is my first blog. Well no, I lie. I had a few blogs on myspace and a couple on Facebook. In this day and age, everybody has something to say. I want to tell you right now, I have tons of things to say. I'm a cornucopia of verbal diarrhea. I think blogs are a great way to tell the world your deepest and darkest secrets. The problem with myspace is that it becomes a showboat of one upmanship when it comes to who has a great story to tell. I have tons of stories. I once woke up in another city. I once woke up in jail. The problem with myspace is that there is no anonymity. Not that I'm ashamed of the things I've done. I'll tell anyone what they want to know, but I'd rather I be some ethereal being that you can imagine for yourself. I deleted my myspace and facebook. This is where it all begins. The fantastic thing about deleting your myspace and facebook is that you had no idea you were wearing shackles, very trendy shackles. Facebook is much worse. Did I really want to know that my friend John is going to Hooters? Probably not. Did he invite me? I don't know. He's a facebook friend. So it comes down to the day ol' dilemna. Is he really a friend? The great thing about purging your ties to the internet is that now, it's time to find out who's really my friend and who isn't. Granted, I love myspace and facebook. They are great ways to connect to the outside world, but like a spiderweb, did I become entangled in lies and trendy electronic ties? If I could, I would start a revolution. BRING DOWN MYSPACE AND FACEBOOK! But I am a realistic person. Nor would I want to bring it down. I really enjoy knowing what my close friends are doing. Some friends, one in the military, never really have a way of connecting except myspace. Myspace allows them to tell the world where they are and how they are doing. But she can email me too. Honestly. So, I begin the world of blogging on a new and wonderful note. So let's all cut our shackles and go outside and get some fresh air. Jim Nelson of GQ magazine recently talked about a study that shows people who have a lot of myspace friends tend to have fewer real friends. Go outside and kiss your neighbour. Call your friends and go get drunk, get coffee with them. Tell them in person what great people they are because time is short and although my friend John might be going to Hooters....I'm most certainly not going to know that next time around unless he invites me.