Thursday, July 30, 2009
The heart beat of mid America may be Chevrolet, but the pulse of NYC is our mass transit system. I may not be a fan of the MTA and the fare hikes but I’ll throw down with anyone that talks smack about the NYC subway system. My neighbor constantly complains that he never has a seat or that the stations are so dirty blah blah blah… He’s correct but I always answer his complaints with “What time does the Boston subway system (his home town) stop running?” and he shuts up.
Not only does the transit system connect 5 boroughs and 4 million riders a day but it also connects people on a one on one level. Now I know a lot of people but today I happened to run into about 6 people in random locations that I haven’t seen in a while one person twice today but another one in the most random of locations. On a subway platform in midtown on the east side I saw a fellow that I see once in a while at meetings. I can’t help but feel connected and at home in NYC. I see people I know everywhere I go and I love that. As an addict a relapse is always an arms length away so it’s amazing to me that I can find recovery with the swipe of a metrocard.
While the MTA fairies were sprinkling me with recovery dust on another subway line my Aunt was the witness to a rather contrasting picture. On the train was a mother using a toothbrush to fix her daughter’s hair. My aunt stated that as the little girl cried the mother just began to curse at her. It reminds me of the scene in Mommie Dearest when Joan Crawford finds Christina using her makeup and hair products and decides to chop all her hair off.
It makes me think about how many people lack any sense of composure or tack. I’ve seen men clip their nails on the train, masturbate, pee between cars and sexually harass women and I’ve even been mugged on a platform. I think you’re not officially a New Yorker even by birth until you’ve been mugged. It’s a right of passage good for one fare. I’ve even seen women pee themselves, (poor old lady) and all sorts of other things, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not only is there really great entertainment at busy transfer stations but there are dance and barber shop quartets and panhandlers with the same stories from 15 years ago but there are also our friends and family heading to a destination so lets be thankful for them arriving home safe tonight.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
I was working in Union Square Park today and guess who i saw? Solomon the leader of the Free Hug Cult. He was not garnishing a giant free hug sign but he still had his sexy airs about him, although I could smell patchouli oil I am still fascinated by this create. The best part was as always in Union Square Park people like to get up on soap boxes and preach whatever they want and either connect with the crowd or in today's case enrage them. Including me. Solomon and I both challenged this preacher as he spit inconsistencies. I'm sorry of you're gonna open your mouth have the facts and data to back yourself up DON'T USE THE BIBLE as factual information in modern society. Compare all you like that's fine. Tell us how good things were when Jesus was here and blah blah blah, but don't talk about how aids in Africa is due to unchristian African truck drives that spread disease, or that abstinence reduces STD and teenage pregnancy rates. This is not me saying what my opinion is and making it fact like religions' try to do this data processed from the CDC (the Center for Disease Control) telling us that not educating people puts them at risk. I'm not gonna get into all the details of this asshole but I voiced my opinion since he was an idiot.
It was nice to see Solomon who informed me he was flattered of my blog entry from May 23rd "give me a hug" and to see him ruffle the preachers feathers. I went back to work knowing that Solomon and his crew would give preacher man a run for his money!
GOD I LOVE UNION SQUARE PARK!!!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Hi peeps. This past week has been a little crazy and I have a lot of things going on this coming week but as always a vow to deliver an entry every Sunday/Monday to you guys in order to maintain the momentum. All I have to start working on some other writing assignments that I need to get done, like my college application essay (which some how I need to keep less then 250 words YEAH RIGHT) and a short story draft so I can have time to edit it for entry into a competition.
Ok so I recently attended a round table discussion at the local Pride Center here in the Bronx and I am really happy about the new acquaintances I’ve made. For starters the group was much larger then I expected and it was facilitated very well. As most of you know I’m no stranger to group therapy and am also very very critical of facilitators. I think that it’s a personal experience for each individual but I also think I have a sense for those that are able to use their personal style and the ability to adapt it the needs of the room. As my old councilor at rehab says “It’s about bringing as many people to the table as possible.”
For starters the group was 2 fucking hours long but it went by rather fast and we let the topics organically grow from each comment made. There was no set agenda or curriculum and plenty of cross talk but all healthy positive feedback. Now here’s the kicker it was a “Latino” group! For most of you that know me I’m very open about the fact that I’m half Italian and half Puerto Rican but lets be honest even my mother calls me a “gringo” cause I have acclimated and immersed myself in what would be considered “Caucasian Gay Society” well call it “CGS” from here on. Let me be honest here I’m afraid of my own gene pool well not afraid but they make me uncomfortable whether they be stereotypical Italian Guidos’ or Puerto Rican Boricuas’. I don’t know why I’m like this but I am. My mother is always telling me I need to be more in touch with my roots but I have a culture I lean towards the CGS and I know plenty of Italians and Puerto Ricans that are part of it but I also realize there is a large population of gays in both of these cultures that don’t feel apart of the CGS culture. At first I felt bad for them like they were depriving themselves of being part of their rightful culture and place but after this group I realize there is a place for a Latino Gay Society. I still don’t know if I’m a part of it but one thing that I’ve learned in recovery is that my disease always tries to convince me that I’m not a part of and that it’s up to me to engage the things I want to be included in, and this group was no different they welcomed me in and treated me as a part of. So one more point for recovery and another foul on the ‘ism’.
I admit I consider myself a white boy that can just tan well, however this has not spared me from the viscous tongue of racism. When I lived in Florida I had a very dark cinnamon bronze tan I’ve been called a spic asked if I was a member of a gang back home in the Bronx. I’ve received pity from my ex’s father who assumed that I was raised in a poverty level income due to my place of origin and I’ve been called a greasy dago from NY and I’ve been snapped at by people that assumed I was a bus boy in restaurant. All of these events took place in the south and south west. I’ve also had conversations started in Spanish and even been sexually harassed due to my Latin look when I was in my early 20’s. After that I stopped getting to dark of a tan but when I lived in Arizona I couldn’t help but get a dark tan and with my dark hair I’ve had Mexican people assume I was Mexican as well. Now I know my aunt right now is saying “NO WAY!” but even she thought I was an Asian man once from afar on the street. I have always been a chameleon of sorts and had the ability to blend in with my surroundings.
To native NYers’ we put a lot of value in our heritage. “What’s your background or where is your family from?” is a common question. Not to segregate each other but as a way of finding a commonality. We may be from different backgrounds or ethnicities or cultures or even subcultures but we seek out a common thread, religions, neighborhoods, sexualities, recovery fellowships, high schools & colleges. No matter how you slice it any wall can be a bridge. So who and or what am I? I’ll tell you who I am. I’m a recovering crystal meth addict named Tommy from Bronx that is half Italian and half Puerto Rican and I choose to surround myself with positive people that give me love and respect and I am learning that that doesn’t come from a specific culture but by the people I seek out in these groups, so if any one asks you where Tommy’s kin is from you can tell them his background is Kindness!
Monday, July 20, 2009
If you squirt lemon juice someone’s eye it doesn’t matter if you were trying to get it on their shrimp…
This has been a long week and I just got back from D.C. this morning and I’m really tired but I vow to always make an entry Sunday evening/Monday morning. I have three running ideas that I have chosen to keep on the shelf after I received some shocking news this evening. My ex that you all have heard from quite regularly was ‘outed’ today by a family friend.
For the ten years I have known Terence I have had an issue with his closeted lifestyle and several of his friends and myself loved his cover by subscribing to Maxim Magazine and then Stuff as well. Although it wasn’t the reason we broke up it played a factor but even then I knew it wasn’t my place to ‘out’ him. Besides it gave me a huge chunk of guilt ammunition when I wanted things my way.
They say the path to hell is paved with good intentions but for the details I’ve received this wasn’t done in an altruistic cause. It was done for some personal agenda. For me coming out was interesting experience. I first came out to my Aunt Lu and my grandmother Nana and both of them gave me their love and support. Neither were thrilled that I was dealt a hand that they perceived to be lonely and life threatening (this was ’95) but they knew that I had to live my own life and pursue the path that I felt was natural and right for me. Even my addict father who was in the ‘MOB’ (and as guido as he is and with the guido accent) said “You’re the only one that can live your life and all I want is for you to be happy.” My mother was another story even now at 30 she still hopes it’s a faze that I may still grow out of. So I would like to ask all of you to tell me how you came out or if you’re not out what keeps you in the closet?
Monday, July 13, 2009
I was talking with an old flame recently who happens to be a very good friend and I was shocked at how jaded and bitter he has become. At first I thought maybe he had just been drinking (which he had) but as I listened to what he was saying I realized he was already a little jaded back when we first met. I was just too wrapped up in my attraction to him and his rejection of me to even notice that he was suffering from his own pain from relationships. Our conversation illuminated his circumstances coming to NYC but I'll never forget how we met…
Thursday nights was one of my favorite nights out in NYC. Barracuda is where my bridge and tunnel friends would begin our adventures and Splash was usually where we ended the evening on the dance floor. Thursday’s was booty music night as I used to call it. I am from the Bronx so I like hip-hop/house music. I just do ok! Anyway on one of my nights out drinking in the fall of 2002 after just returning to NYC after living in Ft Myers Florida for a year I saw the cutest skinniest white boy shaking his ass like he was possessed by the spirit of a female black stripper being excercised in a Baptist Church. He could bump and grind and keep up with the beat like no boy I’d scene before. SORRY my gay white friends but most of you can’t dance. I am Italian and Puerto Rican so I know I can move but even I had trouble keeping up with him but I tried my best. We kissed on the dance floor and then poof he took off with his friends and was gone. I thought well I guess I’ll never see him again.
One night on a date with this really sexy cop from Brooklyn that wanted to trade in his brand new Honda Accord for a Ford Crown Victoria (I hope I talked him out of it while I kissed and fondled him) we decided to go to Splash and I ran into the sexy white boy dancer again. I had to make my move. I ditched the cop to go dance with him. It turned out he had just started working for a new airline that was becoming very successful so we’ll call him Blueboy. We exchanged numbers and went on a few dates and later on found out we were both on a date with the cop that night and both ditched him for each other or something like that. I really really liked Blueboy and decided I was gonna get him a cute hallmark card to say “hi I like you” I don’t remember what the card said exactly but I thought I picked it very well to make sure it didn’t come across as “I think I love you” but the face Blueboy made was one of sheer terror. I thought things were going really well, he introduced me to his roommates and we hung out together and got along famously. Everything was going great but after I gave him the card he made it clear that at 23 we are the same age (well I’m 6 months older then him) neither one of us should be settling down and he explained that he had just gotten out of a long relationship. I have to say he was very polite and kind about it so we continued to date casually but after that but drifted apart.
We have remain friends till this day and 7 years later we are able to say we love one another with ease. I am very grateful that he has always been there for me and has never ever made me feel judged even when I was a total mess. In fact as I started getting my shit together he was one of the first people to tell me he how glad he was for me and how much I had made him worry. I can admit that if I thought I was the right guy for him or that we stood a chance of being together I’d really put up the effort to try to make it work. But Blueboy is always leaving on a Jet plane and I never know when he’ll be back again. So even though we live in the same city I’m not going to stomp my feet or hold my breath to make something happen because we both missed that flight.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
I have to start questioning whether or not I’m an asshole. Or maybe more fucked up in the head then I am willing to admit. (But I’ll ask my therapist) So I’ve been dating, a lot but still no sex and I find myself hung up on the guys that play their cards closer to the chest. Here are some lyrics that express how I feel:
I'm undecided about you again
Mightn't be right that you're not here
It's double-sided, cause I ruined it all
- But also saved myself, by never believing you, Dear
Everything good, I deem too good to be true
Everything else is just a bore
Everything I have to look forward to
Has a pretty painful and very imposing before…
I have too been playing with fifty-two cards
- Just cause I play so far from my vest
Whatever I've got, I've got no reason to guard
What could I do, but spend my best
“O’ Sailor” by Fiona Apple
No I have learned to play my cards close to my vest like the guys I’m attacked to so you would think I’d start going after the guys that put it all on the table right? Wrong I recently met someone that put it all on the table and I won’t lie said everything I want to hear so you would or even I would expect to be telling you all that I am now engaged and registered at Tiffany’s & Bergdorf’s but instead I got scared freaked out and ran.
Now I can pump my own brakes pretty well, hell after almost 4 months of no sex I can say I can stop on a dime. Here I go again still rationalizing my thought process here. If a sincere, attractive guy doesn’t stand a chance with me then who does? I’m starting to think just the assholes that I keep bitching and moaning about on this blog?
I know I am powerless over other people! I did my first step thank you! But I’m still out matched by my fears. I can work up the courage to go on a date to even kiss but I can’t stop playing the game. Is this my new M O? I tell you what I’m looking for and if you give it to me I scatter like a roach in the light. I don’t want to be this guy. This is the guy I keep complaining about. Maybe I should start writing about myself!
Monday, July 6, 2009
For years I kept my feeling like treasures... buried. Only letting the ones out that I thought would serve my motives. Pout when I wanted attention give love when I wanted it in return but I could flip it on and off like a switch. Now after many a tear dropped in a bucket I have realize that I can no longer hold back my emotions. Every now and then at the most unexpected moment they spill over the top.
Here I am watching a star trek movie and little sad moments burst me into tears. What the fuck is this about.
Well anyway I hope all of you have had a happy Independence Day. I also hope you are celebrating your own form of dependence, whatever your vices may be. I also hope one of them is reading my blog.
You know I’ve written about a lot of the flakes I’ve dated but I haven’t mentioned any of the nice guys the near misses that I have experienced.
What do you do when you meet someone that you have so much in common with and you have so much fun with that the relationship is perfect? What if you even really love the person?
Well in two cases I’d like to discuss I can tell you that one of them a fellow from the rooms I do truly love and I had to make a conscious decision to leave well enough alone and not ruin a healthy relationship. I decided to keep the rooms my safe haven and to not use them as a dating pool. I thought I could get away with dating in another fellowship but I realized to get to know people in other meetings I’d have to go to them regularly and share and here fellow’s shares and then make I’d be really attached to them and therefore not want to date them.
The other guy I met last winter was such a sweet heart we had great dates and tons in common. The problem is that we had too much in common. I care about him but if he were left handed and named Tommy I’d have to kill him. There is such a thing as too much in common. I want to have different outlets in life. If I have too much in common with a person there’s a chance I’d depend too much upon them. I left this relationship flicker out quickly. I enjoyed the connection I felt to this guy especially since he’s not a fellow. It was a learning experience to connect with someone not in the rooms.
So why am I so against dating anyone willing to let me in? I know I’m attracted to the unavailable guys but I’m really working on learning to accept that. I’m even learning to look for a guy that will be available. Why is myself worth (even with all this therapy and little bit of recovery) so low that I don’t all anyone willing to care about me to care about me. I’m working on it and hopefully I will be able to tell you all at some point that I have let someone in. Until then keep reading…
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Hello again, hello!
Whether you can admit it or not you know that Neil Diamond has some of the most amazing love songs of all times EVER!
One of my fondest childhood memories is going for a ride in Nana Rose's
Nana Rose would ask me to serenade her and got to pop in the 8 track to "Love of the Rocks". I still know the song by heart and I dedicate it to all the men I've loved. The words with Neil's voice are truly haunting.
“Love on the rocks, ain’t no surprise, just pore me a drink and I'll tell you some lies, nothing to lose, so you just sing the blues, all the time
gave you my heart, gave you my soul, you left me alone here with nothing to hold, yesterdays gone, now all I want is a smile
First they say they want you, hear how they really need you, suddenly you find you're out there, walking in a storm
And when they know they have you, then they really have you, nothing you can do or say, you got to leave, just get away
We all know the song, you need what you need, you can say what you want, not much you can do when the feeling is gone, maybe blue skies above, but its cold, when your loves on the rocks...”
Written by: Neil Diamond & Gilbert Becaud
How is this not the anthem to the broken hearts club, and was this foreshadowing my entire love life to come way back in 1981? I mean I was only 2 years old! Was the evil eye put on me all those years ago riding in the Buick? Did I curse myself by singing along?
Now I've had a few relationships, on many types of rocks, so by now I’m never shocked when things go south, but I've always given my all in every relationship but as I get older and circumstances change I realize my all is changing as well. I've learned that giving to much of myself has only left me to bare the tundra of solitude. So how do I communicate what my needs are and meet someone else’s without running aground?