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Sunday, May 31, 2009

WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING?

So one of my employers well actually all of my employers are people that are rather close to me. One in particular introduced me to an online dating service. I know I know I know I have spent the last month talking about how I’m on a 90 day vow of celibacy and that all the guys on the internet are assholes yadda yadda yadda… And I still hold fast to that assessment, but I only have 18 days left to my vow and I am curious as to who and what is out there. I’m not going to divulge the website or my screenname for that matter but I will say that this sight seem (so far) to be clearly lacking the usual gay man questionnaire crap.

Not once has it asked my preferable position, or to describe my endowments. I think that’s a good start don’t you? No where have there been crude sexual check boxes or nude pictures. I think these are good signs. I know it’s a little too early to call it at this point but even the profiles seem a little more intellectual and romantic, just what I’m looking for! I mean hey I gotta start somewhere right? Further more the suggested matches don’t seem to be generated my biological puzzle combinations. I have actually enjoyed reading other peoples profiles and finding common interests that require clothing. Who knew?

Like I said it’s way too soon to peg this site or its inhabitants’ but mark my words at the very least I’ll have a new and juice source of man bashing. But maybe there will be someone worth mentioning too!

Who’s your sex broker?

Has the economy affected your personal life? Has the stock market crash damaged your libido? Have plunging interest rates instill a fear that it will never go back up? Are you afraid you may break more then your hip riding the bull? Or are you disappointed from the last bear rally you hosted?

Today has been a rather strange day for me. I woke up from a sex dream involving my ex and not that the sex was anywhere near a nightmare or that the dream was either, it only made me wake irritated and disassociated with consciousness. I have 19 days left to my no sex vow and I think I’m further away from human contact then when I was MANHUNTING. To further add insult to injury I indulged in some retail therapy today, new shirts, a pair of shorts, (resentment towards my waist size) and even a pair of new high-tops like all the other kids are wearing. Now I even managed to go grocery shopping, hit the drug store for sundries, and did two loads of laundry. However my day went to shit when I was invited to go to the movies with my neighbor and his boyfriend.

Look I’m not trying to rain on anyone’s parade but I’ve done the third wheel with these two before and it’s rather sickening. They are the cuddly kissy lets make out on the train and everywhere else kind of couple. I seriously support violence in these situations. Now they promised to not be annoying but you can’t turn it off. When people have what you want (dysfunctional or not) it doesn’t matter whether or not they act out the behaviors you want to beat them over, because they are already oozing out the happy lovey dovey stinky puss from their pores and it just smells bad. I love you guys you’re both great (I know you’re reading this C) but seriously I can’t be seen with the two of you. Now there was a prospect of another person joining us originally as a blink date for me (and yeah maybe this has something to do with it) but I was really willing to go because I wouldn’t have to be grossed out again by myself. Misery loves company and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be suffering alone.

So the stock market is rallying, the economy is starting to recover, hell even I have 3 jobs right now (not counting my blog and five other service commitments I have). I’m starting to have funds in my pocket again so that I could actually afford to go out on a date again, but I don’t think I want to. I feel like just going back to the online sites and having meaningless one nighters, that will simply scratch the itch, and trust me people it’s itchy. What do I do? Do I put my money back in penny stock or do I keep holding out for the right investment?

Saturday, May 30, 2009

It can’t just be me? Can it?

Yeah yeah yeah I know, I’m like the one fucking young (30) gay man out there that isn’t looking to fuck every guy I meet but that’s not gonna stop me from bitching about it. I don’t even know where to begin I’m so irritated right now.

Here’s my line in the sand for all you out there that have my phone number or my aim screen names. Don’t “sup” me and then reply “sup” as though I fucking engaged a conversation. I have plenty of people in my life that I can call on and text and instant message and actually have a conversation. If I want to talk to kids in the language of abbreviations I talk to my little cousins. All of you that know me know how light hearted and jovially a person I am and I express myself in a very comical manner. Me “too serious” I think not. Right now yes because I’m aggravated by Officer Abercrombie with his bullshit. I don’t need relationships that depend only on a keyboard.

If you’re young dumb and full of cum kudos to you. I’m sure you can find someone to assist you there are plenty of websites and phone lines dedicated to these things. Mine is not one of them. I enjoy talking to people I consider friends and even just acquaintances’. “Hi, how are you?” “Good, yourself?” “Can’t complain, so what’s new? How’s that thing go?” “Oh it went ok I guess. Hey you wanna meet for lunch or coffee and I’ll tell you all about it?” “Sure when are you free? OMG and I gotta tell you what happened to me the other day!” That’s a normal conversation.

So if you can’t talk like a normal human being and work out dialog that is more then “sup, nm, nothing, chillin, not tonite, nah, lol, j/k” so if you categorize me as being to serious that just means you’ve put no effort into getting to know me and actually know nothing about me. So if this applies to you SERIOUSLY the juries back don’t bother me.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Ahoy me Matey!

Well everyone I had to take a few days off to recuperate. I had a very laborious and rewarding Memorial weekend. I still have not seen Angels & Demons or Terminator Salvation so if anyone would like to take me to a movie I’d love to go.

I had the most unexpected phone call on Sunday. A dear friend asked me to be her First Mate on her ship. Now anyone that knows me knows that I’ve had a very unusual life and in 30 years on the planet I’ve done many different things and can say I’ve lived more then one or two lives so far. Also I have always looked at new experiences as an opportunity to expand my horizon. Now I’ve always drawn the line at physical labor. Sorry been there done that I’ve been a bus boy a waiter a carpenters apprentice etc. Also I’m from a blue collar middle class family so I was raised to view labor as the only truly worthy work. This value never hit my core. I’ve always been an artist at heart, whatever my given medium is at that moment. I pursued photography and ceramics in my early years followed by drawing and always was interested in architecture. So I was groomed for a life in contracting and construction. I know all my gays are squirming at the thought of a hot butch man in denim and construction boots, but now imagine that its you with your arms in the car engine or on that cold construction site and how rough and calloused your hands were and how much dirt would be under your nails. Now imagine a grease stain on your designer whatever. Yeah you’re squirming for a different reason now aren’t you?

Now don’t get me wrong I enjoy knowing that I can perform some basic procedures in home and auto maintenance, but to get my hands dirty drives me crazy. I have soft hands and feet and I would like to keep them that way. However I finally found a labor of love. I don’t know what it was, maybe because I’m a Pisces and that I’ve always felt at home near the ocean and at peace floating in the water. I LOVED working on a boat. My first fear was that my inadequate arms would not be strong enough to pull the rope or worse my delicate hands would have no grip on the rope. Then the fear of falling of the dock and getting pinned between the boat and dock ran through my head. The worst fear was that I’d tie the knots wrong and the boat would float away and I’d be expected to jump into the Hudson to retrieve it. None of these things happened.

I took to the boat like a fish to water. I was at home there in the harbor. The salt in the air, the wind in my face, the rocking back and forth of the boat I could go on and on about how I adapted to my new surroundings. It took a few tries to get the knots down but before I knew it I was shoving off and pulling in the starboard fender off the bow. My Capt taught me as much as she could in the day we worked together and it was a pleasure working with her. Now I have got to tell you this was work. I had to jump on and off the boat push the boat from the dock (that’s where the ‘shoving off’ phrase comes from) I always knew starboard was right and port was left after all I’m a Trekker. I just never saw the appeal of seamanship. I was so wrong to think this was just the same old rough hands labor. There is camaraderie amongst sea fairing folks that I’ve only felt in the rooms of recovery. I was introduced to the crew of a very well known actors Yacht and just serving under my Capt they all introduced themselves to me and instantly there was a bond. The “Bond” is the love of the Ocean.

Now I’m not leaving my land life anytime soon but I am applying to be back up ‘First Mate’. I enjoyed myself so much that I look forward to serving in this capacity again. Knowing that the Sea is in control and Poseidon holds my fate even off the shores of NYC. I have always embraced the riskier side of life. I’ve sky dived, traveled across America couriering things I shouldn’t have, and now earned my sea legs. All the peril with none of the legal ramifications and I am getting paid. It’s truly a win/win situation. So shiver me timbers mates there really is a women for me the Sea. And a female Captain that I gladly take orders from. But wouldn’t it be great if I could start filling this blog with stories of the men of many ports? So who knows maybe I’ll start a new career and say good by to all ye land lovers and find me a mate in all the ports me fair lady the wind takes me!

Monday, May 25, 2009

‘Sim’ulated Power is Absolutely Corrupted

When I was 20 this incredible game came out called “the Sims’” You created characters and controlled their lives. What they wore, ate, did for a living, you could even influence their sexuality. Needless to say I created a happy couple by the names of Terence and Tommy.

Terence and Tommy lived in a fabulous house that Tommy designed for them and both were very happy in their careers. Unfortunately the lifestyle they were accustomed to was a farce. Tommy had found a cheat code to manipulate the income they earned. (Tommy’s defense was that it came from a “trust fund”)

Now I have a history of being passive aggressive in real life and the real version of Terence had a knack for pissing me off. Rather then confront Terence in a healthy manner or that would have been conducive to our relationship I chose to take out my hostilities on the computer version of him, and to make matters worse the ‘Sim’ version of Terence was very temperamental. I conjured many ways to torture him. I would remove the door from the wall trapping him in a room, them just enclose him in drywall to watch him cry and bang on the wall. Sometimes I would remove the toilets and bathroom fixtures till he would defecate on himself. I was very cruel. However not matter what I did as soon as ‘Sim’ Tommy would return home to find his lover trapped in a wall he would bang on the other side and they’d talk and virtual hearts would flutter.

One day while choosing to not torture Terence and just observe his day, the phone rang. It was a prank call. “THE END IS NEAR!” came out of the receiver. Terence was terrified and I was perplexed. What a dark and twisted thing to put into a game. This phone call persisted only when Terence was home alone. He would wait anxiously for Tommy to arrive. Finally playing god I decided that if I don’t like confronting my demons neither should my ‘Sims’ so I simply hid the phone and got an answering machine. One morning while Terence walked out the door to go to work he dropped dead. I stared at the computer monitor in disbelief. Tommy returned home to find a grave stone that the game placed right where he died. Tommy was devastated. He cried and cried and screamed and clearly was upset.

What was I going to do? This game was a reflection of my life. Like I always did I cheated my way out of the situation. I resurrected Terence. (kinda sorta) I quit the game without saving it and it restarted the day prior to his death. That day instead of letting him go to work I made him go swimming in the pool. Something wasn’t right as the weeks (in real time) went by. The phone calls became more persistent. Terence started suffering from even more anxiety. Then he dropped dead again. I restarted the game. He dropped dead again. Then one day I accidentally saved the game making Terence’s death unchangeable. Now the real Terence and I at this point were having real difficulties and some how my computer reflected this all back to me. I tried to get Tommy over his death but he just moped around and was so melancholy. He would walk up to Terence’s earn and cry and weep and mourn. He even started wearing black everyday.

Not soon after the real Terence and I split up for good. That was eight years and two months ago. Since that game I played the real Terence has had to be the innocent bystander to a lot of my wreckage. I don’t know how I can ever really make up to him all the horrible things I’ve done to him (via a computer game mostly) or to myself. I do look to him with a ton of respect and admiration. The reason why I have no romantic feeling towards Terence anymore is that I simply did enough damage to him. Regardless of how much I work to become a better person then I was, there is no way that I would be consumed with guilt if I couldn’t keep Terence at a distance. The over zealous guilt driven people pleasing would only lead to me becoming resentful. Being resentful would only make old behaviors reemerge, like trapping him in a wall and starving him to death. All I can do is the next right action and learn from my mistakes and eventually hope to not repeat them with the next guy.

I Practice Skepticism

Was I just asked out on a date by Solomon via my blog or did my new found Messiah just give me marching orders? I guess I’ll have to show up next week at Union Square Park to find out won’t I? Ok my followers you are all on “Orange Alert” If I come back spewing words of love and hugs find me and shoot me. Please bear in mind that we are encroaching on the end of my 90 day celibacy vow. (Ok I know it’s only 65 days in but buy Friday it will be 70 days that’s 10 weeks of nothing so who knows maybe I’m promoting free love and don’t even know it. Did someone put a hug me sign on my back? Then again I may be standing in the park with a sign…

Saturday, May 23, 2009

GIMME A HUG

I am a very touchy feeling huggable cuddly guy when I am dating someone. I can hug and kiss my friends but I always pull away first. What can I say hugging makes me uncomfortable. I can tell you that on average I probably hug anywhere from 10-25 people (mostly guys) a day.

Today I was working outside promoting an event when I ran out of fliers. I was then recruited by the “Free Hugs” cult. I really don’t even know where to begin to describe how much my skin crawls at the thought of touching strangers. Now I’m an outgoing friendly person. At least I can pretend to be very well. No I’m not claiming to be a member of the “Actors’ Studio” but I can fake the funk in order to survive and navigate society. Hugging is just too much for me.

So there I stand in Union Square Park with a giant “Free Hugs” sign in my hand and total strangers accosting me with their open arms. Let me take you to where my mind goes: crazy people touch strangers, crazy people don’t bathe, dirty crazy people have lice, dirty crazy lice infested people have germs, dirty crazy infested people are prime candidates for the “Swine Flu” OMG I felt something jump off that ladies head and land on my arm. I start feeling itchy all over. Great now I have probably have lice and the “Swine Flu” I’m not into the hippy long barefoot (or in sox) curly hair hemp wearing types but “Solomon” the “Leader of the “F H” cult doesn’t smell like Patchouli oil and B.O. But what really gets my goat is that the guy “Solomon” if that’s his real name radiates sex. Maybe that’s how these things work. I don’t know I have no idea what the real motive of the ‘F H’ people are but I am really wanting a long lingering (take in the location of various points of pressure) hug from him.

I’m not hugging strangers to get a free hug though. I have plenty of friends to choose from to have inappropriate body contact with. I will mention that I have 26 days left till I reassess the celibacy thing. So if I tell you I need a hug and I don’t let go lets just blame it on the cult.

Philadelphia Freedom

Ok so I think by now you guys have heard of enough of my resentments towards men and I thought it was time for a change of pace. After all you now know about Anthony aka Doink, Doctor Josh, Rich, Velcroboy, and innuendo to some that will be brought up later. The jury is still out on Officer Abercrombie.

I think I need to mention that there are some amazing men in my life. Guys that I can count on to answer the phone and just listen. Spot me a 20 if I’m broke or treat me to dinner. I have to admit that I’m very fortunate to have as many people in my life that I can call friends. The reason I titled this entry ‘Philadelphia Freedom’ is because of 2 guys in my life from the city of brotherly love.

I will start with the one I just met. His name is Matt and he’s a very attractive 25 year old that is just charming. I recently met him while painting my friend/boss’s office. He was one of the hired painters. Now I’m gay man in NYC so can you just imagine how many Show Tune Queens I’ve met in my life. I can go as far as to say that most of them are some of the most annoying people I’ve ever met. Now I can’t sing to save my life so I’m not calling anyone talentless, I’m just saying that I have to many of my own issues to waste my time stroking other peoples egos’ when all I feel like saying sometimes is “Your Midwest parents and Midwest teachers have really just been blowing smoke up your ass so stop looking at me like I’m the bad guy cause I won’t tell you how wonderful you are!” Don’t act like you’ve never thought it when someone is telling you about what they do when they’re not serving food at T.G.I.F.

Now Matt is a singer and all that Jazz but he’s got a really good head on his shoulders. I’m not going to go into it and divulge too much personal info on him. Suffice it to say he’s actually working doing what he loves. The reason why I am giving him this shout out is because he’s really reinstalled a sense of hope that somewhere out there, there is someone right for me and that there are guys that do live up to my standards and some of them I’m actually attracted to. Was I going to make a move on Matt? Yes I was when we were painting together alone we came pretty close to one another and I really had to resist grabbing him and planting a kiss. It would not have helped my celibacy vow. (63 days today btw) I’ve had the opportunity to work with Matt via our mutual boss several times and the more I have gotten to know him the more I know he’s the perfect guy for someone, just not me. He is pursuing his career and is young, no where near the settling down point. Also he travels a lot for work. I’m way to high maintenance to have to wait around for someone that’s always out of town or gone for months at a time. As healthy as I get mentally these days I know what my wants, needs & boundaries are. So thank you Matt for being the amazing guy you are and giving me hope that not all guys I meet are assholes.

Now last but not least my favorite Philadelphian in the whole world Terence. (Which btw gave me an awesome title for a blog entry; as soon as it is prevalent I’ll use it.) While at dinner with Terence last night at the ‘Tic Toc Diner’ I was amazed to see that while it has been 5 years since we’ve seen each other and almost 10 since we dated, that he still puts his finger over the top of the straw to air seal it and then sips from the bottom of it. Now it wasn’t his usual grape soda but it’s been a decade since we sat in a dinner and eat together I couldn’t help but feel a sense of safety sitting across from him. Tonight while out to dinner with my friends at “The Dish” I caught myself doing the straw thing. I realize that I do it once in a while when he’s on my mind. Now I don’t have any romantic feelings for Terence any more but I can honestly say this is someone that I love very deeply. He has bared witness to much of my insanity and even when I was still digging a basement after I hit rock bottom he never verbally judged and he always picks up when I call. When we were together I couldn’t cope with my life and was even more irritated by his ability to repel negative energy. It has taken 10 years a therapist 12 steps and a lot of soul searching for me to be able to build my own bubble of tranquility. I thank you Terence for the blueprint. I thank you for tolerating me and all the mischief of my 20’s. Every time my bubble burst you were always there to give me a little bit of air when I needed it.

So keep up the good work Philly you make an awesome product.

Friday, May 22, 2009

PARANORMAL TELE-CUMMUNICATIONS

In the rooms of recovery we are brainwashed with slogans. I especially enjoy the metaphors we use to describe the disease of addiction. i.e. “I have a built in forgetter” “I suffer from a disease of amnesia” “I suffer from the disease of mind reading.” Now the first two refer to the fact that addiction is a disease where you try to convince yourself you don’t have a disease. I for one was convinced that I wasn’t an addict rather someone that responded well to my drug of choice and simply adapted my lifestyle to better suit my habit. The ‘mind reading’ comment refers to issue that most addicts suffer from, we tend to believe that we know what others are thinking and use that to validate or excuses for using. I bring up the clairvoyance topic due to the fact that I believe in it. Not that I can tell exactly what’s on your mind or even put ideas in your head but I do that some people are empathic and can read signs from people close to them and for those that are very good at this even strangers. I believe I am an empathic person. I mention this because I think we are all empathic to an extent.

I think I have been sending out some of my own very confusing signals these last few days. (It could just be pheromones) Today is 62 days into my 90 day vow of celibacy. In the last week I’ve received to e-mails from my last boy friend in AZ which I haven’t heard from in over a year. This morning I was having a strange Instant Messenger conversation with ‘Officer Abercrombie’ my internet boyfriend (I’ll explain later) and ran into Doctor Josh today on the street on my way to acupuncture. I congratulated him on being married and he asked me to meet him in the bathroom. I should have agreed and stood him up but I just said “No thanx.” Oh and I had lunch with my ex Terence from Philly who hasn’t scene me since I was an active tweaker in ‘04. (Terence is the only reference point I have to a healthy relationship or anything close to it) We dated for just over a year from late Dec ’99 till the spring of ’01.

As much as we can read other people I think the difficult part is reading my own emotional radio station. I can always tell when my friends are upset or not comfortable. However when I am upset or sad or bothered I know I try very hard to hide it but my friends can always call me out on it. No matter how I try to control my posture or keep my shoulders relaxed and maintain my composure by not fidgeting or biting my lip a friend will always look right through my eyes down to my core and ask what’s wrong. I can deny it all I want but my face always gives me away they tell me. I think the same can be said for telecommunications. They use this sort of stuff in forensic sciences all the time. Writing analyses is especially common when they read emails and text messages. You can tell a lot from a person by the way they usually write a letter, the sentence structure they use, the vocabulary, and the grammar.

Ok so I need to explain ‘Officer Abercrombie’. He’s this 25 year old cop that lives by my last apartment in Manhattan. He’s super sweet and like all the guys I really like he’s completely unavailable. We have been chatting online having cyber sex phone sex shoot the breeze conversations you name it for about a year now. We have only met once. He’s adorable! I have no idea what to expect of him nor do I put any expectations on him. He’s the only guy that is really under my skin. Even after a year of him standing me up, just using me for internet sex etc I still make time for him. (here’s where I make excuses for him) He’s a cop he works nights and a crazy shifts. So I can’t stay too mad at him for falling asleep after protecting the peace for 12 hours. No matter what though, he always says hello to me when he sees me online. Granted it’s usually to have webcam sex or something like that. Needless to say when I took my celibacy vow he was the first one I blocked on ‘AIM’ before I could block him though I had a family emergency and he was a shoulder to cry on. I told him I was going to block him for a while to clear my head and he understood. 4 weeks later I decided to unblock him and wouldn’t you know it he I.M.’d me within an hour. Now he has drunk dialed me and done some stupid stuff but before his language was always sexual. Always making innuendo or flat out saying something to do with cock and ass. Recently this has changed. He started messaging me while he was car shopping and doing other random things. He always talks to me when he goes to see his family. Now we’re just talking like normal people lately. I saw a bunch of cops the other day so I told him I was thinking about him. (I can’t help it he’s a cute young cop so every time I see a young cop I think about him) I tell him this and that I worry about him and he tells me he loves that I think about him. I know I’m not waiting for him to stop what he’s doing and I’m not sitting around waiting for him to be ready but I am uber confused by him.

That’s why I’m saying these communications are paranormal. I asked him what’s on his mind because something is different and I can tell by how he’s typing. He starts to say something sweet and then he says “never mind” and “I think you’re a really cool dude & you’re hot… that’s all” Maybe I’m just reading way more in these messages then there really is. I know I have a tendency to do that. Look I’m not trying to turn our relationship into anything that its not. I’m not an alchemist. I just wish there was a sure fire way to interpret people.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Your Mom's on my Buddylist

The title of this blog is inspired by a bumper sticker I read once on I17 in Phoenix, AZ. Also it is very apropos considering the subject of this entry, however you know me and how I like to paint a picture, so I'll start from the beginning.

By now you all get the gist that I'm a drug addict/alcoholic in recovery. I blame it on the bad genes handed down to me. Not that that matters, I continue to take the next right action and maintain a sober life. Along with they addict gene I inherited from my biological Father. I also suffer from another condition know as "sleep terrors". This I owe to my Mother. (Thank you Mommie Dearest) If you're not familiar with this just imagine you're worst waking nightmares reoccurring several or more times a night, sleep walking and becoming physical to the point where if you do stay asleep you spend most of the night punching things around you or running kicking and screaming, even attacking people in your bed or your home. So when you awaken to your alarm 8 hours of sleep may feel like a short nap. Now imagine this happening almost every night of the week. Suffice it to say I suffer from this condition since I was a teenager and it became truly debilitating in 2002. I never understood why Mom would scream in her sleep and often half naked charge out of her bedroom eyes wide open shouting obscenities, start slamming doors, looking in the cabinets and sometimes even attack me. She would then retreat back to her bedroom and sometimes even wake up and ask if I heard her having a nightmare. On the nights I was accosted I would just pretend to be asleep. Sometimes I was able to walk her back to bed and no one was hurt, other times she would bruise herself and/or me. Saturday nights were always entertaining; Me on the sofa with my big retriever dog Sheena watching SNL circa '91. I'd be laughing at Mike Myers when all of a sudden Sheena's ears perk up. I hear mom screaming "GET FUCK OUT OF HERE, WHAT FUCK!" as Sheena jumps off the sofa and in front of the Door to building hallway Mom comes taring out the bedroom in bra's and panties (not matching btw) hair disheveled and full on "CRAZY EYES" I'm talking racooned out and teeth snarling like some type of Amazon Warrior from "Xena" and she even crouches like she's about to start wrestling for her life and the opponent doubles as dinner. She looks at me like we're in the battle dome or something and asks "What are you doing?" "I'm sitting here watching TV, MOM!" As though it takes her a minute to comprehend what I'm saying she starts doing the crazy eye head bop/eye shift. The head spasms in arched movements from left to right to classic '70's disco (toot toot ya beep beep) while the eyes continue to go left right left right at a completely different tempo. More like a gay house beat. (Groove is in the heart) Mom turns around and retreats to her bedroom and doesn't shut the door behind her. 5 minutes later she re-emerges conscious "Were you just in my room?" "No Mom I've been sitting here watching TV, but you were out here a few minutes ago." I reply looking straight through her trying to catch the joke from the sketch. "Was I having a nightmare?" she asked bewildered. "I guess so" like I know what the heck is going on under that rat nest of hair. "Well get to bed, its to late for you to be up." I know this doesn't sound funny but every now and then this would happen with the green mask on her face or my personal favorite when she's start trying to climb into a hallway closet as though "Narnia" was on the other side. She never got out the Condo cause my Sheena would not move from in front of that door. (I miss my Sheena the best dog EVER RIP)

Now my night terrors started getting bad in 2002 as I mentioned this is right after My Stepfather perished My Nana died and Sheena was put to sleep. All within 7 months. Not to mention the Doink fiasco. So I was rather overwhelmed and barely 23 years old. I started waking up constantly from nightmares or waking up with bruised knuckles and sometimes scratches self inflicted. I became more and more afraid to sleep. I started to self medicate. (imagine that) This continues to get worse. At some point after moving back to NYC in the fall of '02 I start having auditory hallucinations. I start drinking even more. The only way I can fall asleep and stay asleep is if I pass out drunk. Now I didn't want to become an alcoholic so I don't drink or use drugs on school nights and these evening I get, if I'm lucky 2-3 hours of sleep in an 8 hour window. I start passing out at work on breaks and wake up screaming within minutes of laying my head down. This is when my crystal use starts.

I had tried crystal twice before and found I could take it or leave it like coke. I just wasn't that into it. As my sleeping issues became worse and other experimental self prescribed drugs failed I recalled that 'Tina' gave me the ability to stay conscious and functional. Tina and I were engaged from that moment on. I could stay awake as long as I chose to (usually 36-48 hours) then crash for 8-12 from exhaustion and all thought I still had night terrors they were now happening only every other night or not at all if I had an entire weekend off. Needless to say within months I was using crystal daily and staying up for on average 5 days at a time. My ex from that portion of my life would force me to take Ambien and refused to sleep next to me. All I would want is to cuddle and be held as I fell asleep cause even with 2-3 Ambiens I knew I was going to be fighting a war once I shut my eyes. I can't even get into how disturbing my dreams were even before the drugs entered my life. My ex would lay next to me for maybe 10 minutes and as soon as I started to twitch he slept on the couch. He had described to me watching me flail around as if Linda Blair had just received a Enema of holy water.

I'm sure by now you're saying "who's mom am I referring to?" Well let me catch you up to speed (no pun) on how I got to Arizona. My ex and I were working for his friend and at that point I decided the relationship was over and that I was moving on. While in Arizona I met this other guy that I fell in love with and took hostage. It is this ex's Mom that I am referring to in the title. So lets discuss this my my last ex and why I chose to email him last night and how much this has had my head spinning from last night. As I became involved with this said ex we cuddled a lot and that was a big improvement of the previous guy. He didn't put up with my hitting him in my sleep. I woke up once to him screaming at me cause he thought I was picking a fight. Most nights he slept to heavy to even notice my screaming but the occasional left hook got me pushed out of bed more then once and either of us on the couch some nights. He was convinced that my dreams were related to some violent crime he believed I committed. Granted there was drug use in our relationship, it was much less then it had previously been also at this point my night terrors were so common to me that I had adjusted and after 2 years with my ex even he adjusted. As bad as we both were to each other I don't doubt there was an honest core of love between us. I say this because by the second year of our relationship instead of him fighting back with me started sleeping on my left side so that only my right arm (I'm left handed and have no strength in my right arm) could really swing at him. Also he developed this habit of (while totally asleep) just scooping me up in his arms spooning and restraining me symotainiously while whispering in my ear "shhhh its okay. Its just a dream, you're safe. Go back to sleep, I love you." Well maybe not all of that but on the more then one occasion I woke up from a night terror I would hear any given part of something like that. I know he would restrain me cause sometimes I'd wake up needing to relieve myself and try to wiggle out of bed only to have his left arm swoop over me and pull me tightly in to him and here something like what I just repeated.

Now I'm not saying the relationship was healthy infact I can say as much as I miss him sometimes I know that I wouldn't have been able to get my life in order had I not. That doesn't mean that what we had wasn't important to me. Furthermore I haven't been in a serious relationship with anyone since him, and it will be 3 years this July that I am single. Now we certainly had our falling out and he is the type that will delete his email address and change his phone numbers and even move leaving no way of getting in contact with him. His mother however uses the same screenname for everything and was very easy to find. Also we got along very well when I was with her son and she liked me. When I started chatting with her on various social networking sites I believe she told me that he (my ex/her son) was very mad at her. I am glad that I have kept her on my buddylist cause even though I live 2500 miles away and doubt that we would even have a future with one another, nor do I feel like attempting to get involved with anyone at this juncture of my life even something familiar. And being in recovery we make that amends list and I'm not on that step yet but I'm close to it and had it not been for my consistency in maintaining a dialog with the Mother of someone I love I would not have had the opportunity to re-examine these uncomfortable feelings towards someone I love nor the chance to start the process of healing. So that's why his Mom is on my buddylist.

cRaZy Is LiKe WaTeR, iT tAkEs ThE sHaPe Of ItS cOnTaInErEr

We All know water seeks its own level, and birds of a feather? Well they flock together. I know I'm a crazy bitch, I don't have crazy eyes though. I have had many incarnation's of my craziness. In High School My craziness manifested by dieing my hair and sticking safety pins through an assortment of my fleshy parts. Falling in love with a boy that was completely unavailable. rebelling against any and every rule.

In my early 20's my craziness took shape by jumping into relationships and moving back and forth across the country as if I were some how inspired my by the Louis & Clarke expeditions. Also by experimenting with every drug that was put before me. Except heroin. I am afraid of heroin, my uncle died from asphyxiation on his own vomit in his sleep while passed out. I don't like slowing down. I was always being told to hurry up by my mother so when I found my drug of choice it was almost instantaneous love. I could move at speeds and maintain a stamina that was unknown to my constantly melancholy state of being.

See its not just the vessel that's shaped like crazy. I think my liquid fillings have also had crazy powder thoroughly baked into my genes and regardless of the shape my mold I'm still a moist cake of insanity so no matter how you slice it I am my insanity my fillings and my behaviors however I choose to bake myself.

I am now 30 and very much on the table of proper portions and delicious finger sandwiches of slogans steps and recovery, but every now and then I like to take bigger bite then I can chew and wash it down with some crazy juice!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Suite Resentment

Well I'm sure you're all surprised that I am managing to do a back to back blog entry. (Sorry Ter this one isn't about you yet either)

Alright so you all now know about my first love Anthony aka Doink. How he gnawed out my heart like a rat through dry wall and then left it exposed to the elements. And you know what yeah I know it's been 15 years but I'm still bitter. Maybe that's why I don't trust my emotions, and why I'm such a nasty fuck!

But I digress... "Suite Resentment" Picture it the majestic Pocono's and bottles of 'OFF' discuss... Ok ready? So in the rooms its known as a 13th step when you take advantage of a new comer or any conception of sexual relationship with fellows can be misinterpreted as this 13th plateau . I was fortunate enough to have my own room in the Pocono's at a Spring Retreat this April. I knew I requested my own room and I planned to be quite the promiscuous fellow. I have A LOT of hot friends. This was not to be.

I was only 35-40 days into my 90 day celibacy vow. If there is one thing about me its that I will cut off my... lets go with nose, to spite my, hmmmm, face. Several fellows said that those vows don't count when you're in another state but I took the high route. The make me miserable and hate all my hot friends all 150 or more around me. trapped in the country.

Some adapt so well the serene surroundings of trees, babbling brooks, hiking trails, bugs, oh and a main road with large semi's and other large convoys trek. Like the road from 'Pet Cemetery'. The country gives me anxiety, I kept expecting someone to get pulverized by a truck and the Lodge staff to say "we can bring'em back" through missing teeth "but he'll be evil" like any of these queens aren't already. (and I mean evil with love) There was an injury but nothing fatal. I was really hoping for something more tragic. At least a lovers quarrel. I got nothing. I slept alone the whole time, I didn't even get fondled. Not even a kiss. Not even a lingering hug nothing. So I stuck to my celibacy bullshit and christened my room Suite Resentment. 150 gay men + me and a half empty full sized bed. I love my fellows and I really don't plan to sleep with any of them but it would be nice to know if any would even be interested.

Let me be honest though I'm a nasty MoFo when I wake up and I'm sure my vileness gave others a resentment too. I think my fellows probably feel bad for the guy I take hostage. Maybe next year I'll try to be a little more pleasant. Or maybe I'd be more pleasant if the next retreat was in another large urban area. I can handle Pennsylvania I suggest Philly Center City give me a park and a metro transit city and I can camp!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Don't Speak I know what you're saying is BULLSHIT part 4


OH MY GOD! Has it really been 20 days since I've last typed in this screen? Is anyone still reading it? Are you shivering with an tis a (SAY IT) pation? Well I'll remove the cause, but not, the syptom!
Yes my mind is a tangled mess of musicals and lyrics I can't help but at least I'm here. Sorry It's been so long I can't tell you all how UBER busy I've been with school and other commitments I have but I'm here now! Plus My Monitor died and I had to replace it so my keyboard was rather useless for a week.
Ok where were we? Fall of '97 now I'm working at an icecream store I have my first car and of course I've rekindled things with Doink. I realize now he was my Autumn version of S.A.D. You know seasonal Affects Disorder. Well to follow suit Doink stood me up again after a date or two and that was the end of it. At this point I just expected it. It didn't matter anymore I found a new love. My 1989 Ford Probe LX was the best companion an 18 year old boy could have. We (Sharon Dianna and myself) christened her K.I.T.T.Y. she was black had a red sports trim gray interior with hide away headlights a digital dashboard and some advance computer system in the dash for trips and weather and various other forms of data collection and communication. I loved her.
I still was heartbroken but now my lonely aching heart could drive around all of NYC & Westchester County in the middle of night listening to what ever music I wanted as loud as I wanted! I would drive up the Hutch late at night going north and watch the city melt away. It was so exciting these little adventures, KITTY would say we were traveling NNW and that at my current speed I had 310 miles before I'd have to refuel and I'd test her. The urban sprawl would would reduce to suburban sprawl and then it would just be the road me and trees and trees and trees. Oh then they're be a sign! I'd be dangerous and keep going. Then I'd see a piece of road kill or a dear and I'd turn around at the next exit. That was enough country for me!
Now like any good New Yorker I love leaving the city, but there is nothing I love more then coming back. If you've never been to NYC or never had the opportunity to see the city skyline from a distance at night you are truly missing the 8th wonder of the world. I think the architects and city planners felt that we should challenge the night sky and so Manhattan was chosen to be the battle ground. We build building after building some the most beautiful in the world and we clad them in glass and incase them with light and from a distance it looks like yellow white and blue jewels scattered around almost like a tennis bracelet just relaxing above the horizon. And all the really tall building that make the city up are crowned with a bright red ruby to say ha! top that monochrome sky.
Ok back to Anthony. Well returning to NYC wasn't always a relaxing occasion. At this point In my life I'm 18 a full time student and I work 60 hours a week to cover my bills and take care of my grandmother. So enter my first and foremost addiction. My name is Tommy and I'm a Workaholic. The peace I got from those drives really kept me sane for some time. Inside I was still heartbroken and distracted. My family life became very unmanageable and I started having panic attacks and other nervous disorders were forming. I was smoking at least a pack of Marlboro Reds a day and never had time for anything.
I could tell you about the countless straws that broke the camels back and I will but never the less I dropped out of school and moved to Lehigh Acres Florida to live with my dad and his wife Toni. I love Toni she has the soul of an angel and a face to match. Her eyes are so bright and her smile is contagious. My dad is a drunk. I moved to Florida to get away from all the stress I was going through but I didn't understand what I was getting myself into and after six months of Florida I move back to NYC. I had a good rest but a bad taste in my mouth especially after Toni caught my dad smoking crack! (We'll get there I swear) So It's been 9 months since I've had a nervous breakdown, dated some kid named Romeo, moved to Florida, found out my dad is a crackhead alcoholic, move back to NYC, and oh since I've seen Doink.

So its summer in NYC a nice summer too I might add 85 and humid you just wear shorts and feel sticky I love it. I love Florida for that too. I just jumped into my car on Williamsbridge Rd and Astor Ave. after getting something in some store for Nana. And I see him cross the street from my rear view mirror. Bless Kitty's revving heart for always putting me where I need to be. I hang a Uee. (thats bronx for a U-turn also known as flip a bitch)
"Need a ride?" I yell out the power window as it reaches halfway down.
"Oh shit" as he approaches the car. "I'll be right out getting my mom something from the store"
I put kitty in park and wait wishing I could idle as well as her. Shockingly I as I think this I hear the engine rev a little. What do I say to Doink? I'm happy to see him I'm a little more grown up now at least. He approaches the car.
"I just need to go down to my grandmothers and give her this" he raises the yellow plastic bag with a smiley face in his right hand.
"Hop in" I hit the unlock button "Are you sure? its not a far?"
"It's hot and by car its faster and we can catch up" I say and my reason is unarguable, sounding as grownup as I felt.
He reaches over and give me a hug hello and his tan cheek brushes mine (not to mention he's about 15 pounds heavier) and it feels cool and I'm instantly recalling the last time I saw him was in my car and us kissing and that ecstasy feeling in my stomach and I just want him to tell me that he missed me and that he loves me and that we should run away and that I've always been the one that he wanted and and and and and...
"Long time no see!" he says as he draws back to his seat.
"Yeah it has!" not sure what else to actually say to Doink. So I start driving north on Williamsbridge and make a left on Waring Ave. acting like I know the way back which I recall.
"Yeah it must have been a month or two since I've seen you" Anthony says as we start passing the projects on the right.
I slam on the brakes and Kitty screeches to a HALT. "WHAT!" I pull in to the curb to let traffic pass. "Anthony I haven't seen you in" counting on my right hand the left white knuckling my steering wheel wishing it was his throat "nine months" I take a deep breath how can this person that I care so much about not know I've been gone long enough to have a baby! "I just moved back from Florida I was there for the past 6 months" I spit.
"Yeah I thought that was you but I saw Florida plates" acting as if nothing was wrong he replies. And I unlock the door. "Get out of my car!" I growl through gritted teeth. I can't turn my head to look at him. I feel the impact of the door shut and look at my dashboard to make sure it's closed properly. Doink stands between the 2 parked cars and leans down to see me and begins to say something but I had already put the car in gear and made my little 2.2 liter 4 cylinder engine peel out as I really flip a bitch.
I almost made it to Pelham Parkway on Williamsbrige Rd when I break down crying in the car. I'm sure I must have been played Fiona Apple's "Shadow Boxer" or something as piercing. That summer I drove away and I left Anthony on that sidewalk and hoped to leave him in my past. I had no idea how messy my life would get.

So here's where things start to get gritty. A few boyfriends later and a few more non-drug induced geographics later I find myself again living in south west Florida but now I'm 22. And I can tell you that 22 was the worst year and the most fun of my life.
Ok I'm 22 I have a 31 inch waist and a perfect tan I live in Ft. Myers Florida I have a big bunch of friends (Hi Patrick hi Forest hi Ft Myers) I'm out partying every night I discover Coke Extacy Acid Shrooms special K. and Tequila. What could be wrong? Well 9/11 happens and my step father perishes (he's a firefighter) Then that January my Nana dies terminal brain & lung cancer. Her illness honestly triggered my addictive behavior well more the side effects of her cancer. I say that cause I never wanted to get out of myself until Jan of '01 when the tumor in her head made it difficult for her to remember who I was by voice. (Not getting into that right now its way too painful) I had started to notice that my drinking and drugging was getting a little crazy before Nana died and so I decided to slow down after she died.
I returned to Ft Myers and my job at Applebee's and I was very depressed. Not to mention it was a week before Valentine's Day. I'm closing up my section putting chairs back after vacuuming under the class extended enclosure when I look up and who do I see sitting across the bar in the smoking section? One thousand four hundred and twenty one miles away from the sidewalk in Waring Avenue sits Anthony. My jaw lands somewhere on top of the vacuum cord I was raveling up. I run into the kitchen cause I knew everyone else in the place had drugs but me that night. In fact I planned to just go home and go to bed and take a Saturday night off from dancing on the bar at TBL. None of my girlfriends with coke were there. I walk over to peek at Doink. HE'S WITH A GIRL! I tell my apple buddy that was my first love. She lets me know he's on a date.
I walk up to the table. What the fuck do you say after three and a half years? "Hi you're one of the few people I love left alive please call me?" I don't say that. I re-introduce myself to Anthony like I've been renovated and proud of my paint job. I tell him "I'd love to talk and catch up!" so I give him my number on a napkin. He introduces me to his fiance. I didn't care about her. I just wanted tell him about everything that had happened in the six months but most importantly that Nana had died. I was really hoping we could just be friends. "Hi nice to meet you" I say to the girl sitting across from him. It turns out Doink now lives in Ft. Myers and works at the furniture store across the street from Applebee's. I walk away from that table feeling feeling so excited that an old friend from the Bronx is so close.

Anthony left my number balled up in that napkin on the table and like every other time before it got thrown out. I Flip out and hold back tears of anger. Tears of rage. I go home. I got home and managed to call every drug dealer I had and so it began. I would like to tell everyone reading this that five hits of extacy melt away a broken heart but they don't. And I had good E in Florida never ever had E as good as what I found in Florida and that night was no different. I chewed the first 2. I snorted 2 more and then a swallowed one more for good measure. I brought my problems to the dance floor. I brought my problems back home. 6am I'm still crying. I call Dianna. She's still awake back in NYC. She never goes to bed and she's not on drugs. "You will never guess who was in my restaurant tonight" I tell her as I squat down on the floor cause the E was still making me roll. "No fucking way!" Dianna and I have some weird psychic connection. "What the fuck is he doing down there? Is he on vacation?" "No" sweat rolls down my face and tears from my eyes spill on my lap. "he works across the street from me at some furniture store"
"Get the fuck out of here!" She can tell I'm fucked up and that I'm crying. "Listen I gotta go to bed call me tomorrow. I love you. That little bastard." tomorrow means as soon as I'm sober and for her it means later that evening. I hang up the phone. I love that Dianna loves me and hates Doink.

So that's it. That was the last time I saw Anthony on a balmy Saturday night in an Applebee's in Ft. Myers Florida February of 2002. And here I am 7 years later writing about it. Well at least now you guys all know why I'm an addict named Tommy. But this is just the beginning of my drug career. I've got tons crap to fill you guys in on. But I hope every time you think of Applebee's you think of me and my broken little heart balled up in dinner napkin that got dumped in the trash.