Sunday, September 21, 2008

Out of Touch...

Can't figure out why I feel a little unfocused today. Well, all week actually. Everything is fuzzy. No highs or lows. Just complacency about everything around me. I fear I have finally become something I abhor completely. A cynic.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

And Again...

Yet another gay man murdered. I saw the story on America's Most Wanted show a couple of weeks ago and have been wanting to post. Here is the most recent news story that I read today:

Just one phone call.

That is all grieving mother Desire Brazell prays for.

Since Rashawn Brazell's butchered body was found scattered across Brooklyn three years ago, his mom has lived with the added burden of fear that the killer will strike again.

"I hope someone can call in and give the information we need to close this case," said Desire Brazell. "I don't want any family to go through what I went through."

Tomorrow, the Brazells will lead a memorial march in the 19-year-old victim's honor from his old Bushwick apartment to the Bedford-Stuyvesant subway station where his body parts were first found.

They hope the walk will stir up public interest in the case leading to that one clue pointing cops towards Rashawn Brazell's killer.

During the predawn hours of Feb. 17, 2005, two transit workers found a bloody trash bag in the tunnel of the Nostrand Avenue station. The bag contained Brazell's right shoulder, right arm, and lower legs, police said.

Five days later, another grisly discovery: a piece of Brazell's pelvis was found in a Greenpoint recycling plant.

Police have chased down many possibilities behind the sick murder - from angry gay lovers to a twisted serial killer.

Even "America's Most Wanted" picked up the case, airing at least three shows featuring the slaying.

"We have chased hundreds of leads across the country, and we are not closer today than we were in 2005," said Lt. John Cornicello, commander of the NYPD's Brooklyn North homicide squad.

"It is very hard to say after all this time that there is nothing new. It is a shame."

Detectives have flown all over the country - from Florida to Colorado - hunting leads, said police.

Investigators spent time in Texas sniffing around a duffel bag factory after DNA evidence proved that an empty black bag sitting in the subway tunnel was used to carry the victim's corpse.

To keep the case active, detectives have busied themselves blanketing the city with flyers featuring Brazell's sad story and combing the dance floors of popular gay clubs, hoping for a hint about how he died.

Desire Brazell refuses to give up.

She is confident that one day the right tip will finally deliver the justice she is longing for.

"This person is sill living amongst us," she said. There is $22,000 reward for information leading to an arrest. Tipsters can call CrimeStoppers at (800) 577-TIPS

Does anyone know ANYTHING??? I cannot believe that this man's crime has gone unanswered in 3+ years. Is it because he is black? Gay? From a poor neighborhood laden with crime? What. The. Fuck?????!!!!!

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


In the below photo is my humble little brownstone. On the top floor is me little cave. Yes, all three windows...don't hate. In in that rather large bedroom is a mothafuckingcuntlickpieceofshit MOSQUITO that has been slowly draining my blood for the last 48 hours and I can't find it!! My rather well maintained skin is looking like a page of braille, all swollen and itchy! I have even tried putting little X's with my finger nail on the bumps to try and take the annoyance away. It is an old wives tale, but it feeeeeels sooooooo goooooood. (Except on my face). Now, last night I saw it and thought I got it, right after Hillary's speech. I drifted off to the first stages of R.E.M sleep and then....that horribly sickening whiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnneeee. Right by my ear. Swat. Ouch. Drifting off again.

Ok, so I sleep naked. It was as if a vampire bat was living in my closet and having a feast of every piece of me. Finally, at half past four, deliriously near tears I switched on the light. You would think I would see this thing all swollen with my blood, drunkenly fluttering around on its feast. Alas, zip-zilch-zero. By golly, I had a shoot today and if I didn't get some sleep I was going to do some damage to some poor model. So, I waited. And waited. No mothafuckingcuntlickpieceofshit MOSQUITO!! I ended up wrapping myself up in bedsheets for my last two hours of sleep with only my cute little nose poking out. Yes, it got that too.

Now, I sit here with a can of RAID Flying Insect in a desperate attempt to kill this pointless creature of God. I know this is a ridiculous end to the means, but what is a boy to do? When I least expect it, I get another bite. I have sprayed a million things in my bedroom tonight, the slightly swinging curtain string, the dust bunny, ( I really need to clean this shithole), even my own shadow. Yes, dear reader I sprayed my shadow because at the corner of my eye....I moved. I think I am high on the fumes. The only thing keeping me from a good night sleep; is this can of RAID. I will prevail. Wish me luck.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Time will heal...

Almost a year since I have publicly posted on this blog, so maybe it is time to reopen my thoughts on my life and the life that carries on around me. It has been a year to the week that I moved into my pad in Brooklyn! The above picture is my apartment bathed in the changing light of the season. It has been my cave that gives me some semblance of roots in a city that is covered in pavement, and that really doesn't allow for much leeway in planting new seeds of change. I have tried time and time again to do it, and made it a full year. Cheers to me.

Today I am a bit melancholy. A word in my vocab that I have a tendency to use a lot. I really do like the word, but I don't necessarily the feelings it invokes. I am lonely, I am tired, I am happy and I am sad at the same time. My new home for a year is a stones throw from a home that I didn't choose many years before. A home that welcomes me every night after a long day without judgment. A home that has been around for over a hundred years and has seen many struggles, hardships, and tears. A home that has heard the laughter of children, or the hum of a seamstress' sewing machines, or a scribble of a writer's pen. This is my place now. And yet I am still not grounded. It is my normalcy in a life that has been far from normal. It will nurture me and send me on my way when time comes. It has no true place in my heart, but it is a constant reminder that it will stand in silence until I am ready to let it in.

A stones throw. To a world that is now gilded by gentrification, and growth. A place that I lay in terrified unknowing, starving for food and for love. I was 18 sleeping in a school yard without the slightest clue if I was going to wake up in the morning. Or, if I wanted to. For many years I couldn't remember the names of the streets or the neighborhoods that I roamed. It wasn't until I was on a casual stroll one fine Sunday last fall, when I encountered that school and the memories came flooding back. I threw up. Gone were those broken bottles and graffiti filled walls. In its place was brightly colored murals drawn by students with wonder in their eyes. The basketball courts held booths of a neighborhood fair with clothes and fruits and various fun little nicknacks. I stared and stared, holding onto the chain link fence trying to steady my wobbly legs. I stared with furious indignation at its presence, so sturdy with time. I wondered if it remembered my tears, my fitful sleep, my hunger pains. I wondered if it could talk, would it have acknowledged me with surprise or with bewilderment or with a knowing smile. I stared with disbelief that I happened on this place without any goal to do so.

You can forget the past, but the past rarely forgets you.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Whirling Dervish...

The act of twirling in a circle for hours on end by the Whirling Dervishes of Turkey just so that they can feel connected to God astounds me. Jihadists despite what the American press make them out to be are actually struggling with themselves to be closer to God. The first definition of a jihad is the significant inner struggle within a person in relation to religion, beliefs and devotion. All that souped up mumbo jumbo of holy war terrorists is something FOX News lubes their asses with. Point I'm trying to make is I hear all these different terms for all these God fearing people and I too find myself struggling. Mostly because I can't find it deep in my tummy to latch on to such blind faith. My skepticism of a higher power has put me at odds with what surrounds me everyday. Now I am beginning to question my resolve. Not because I now want to start believing, but because I think it is generally good to strive to be accepted into a positive light after death. Generally, most atheists or agnostics feel that if there is a God why does he let all these horrible things happen here on Earth. Since it continues to happen, he therefore does not exist. My whole thing is proof. Sorry, the bible is a book translated from 6 different languages over lets say 1700 years, by men. Too faulty. Torah, Koran same shit. So no words in those good books convince me. I dunno, maybe I am being rash and downright combative, but sorry kids I just can't believe. All I can do is try my hardest every day to wake up and contribute to this universe in a positive way. No other reason other than to try and correct the negativity that seems so prevalent in today's society. Not to get into heaven, or have 70 virgins (which mind you would be nice) or be reincarnated as a goat or a rock star, but to combat that evil that is occurring in Dafur or China or Iraq-Afganistan-Iran-Israel-Palestine blah blah blah. Call me blasphemous, but do it far away from me. I am tired of your bitchin.

The Pit of Dispair...

...would be the East Village. Gone are the cool hipsters/artists, in its place is the dull frat boy and the sorority trash that screw them. I went out with friends Saturday night to the LES and East Village. Granted it was Saturday night, which in itself is such a retarded time to go out in this city, but expected a good time none-the-less. All in all, it was rather dull. It seems the life of the party left right before we got there, because it realized that the party blew chunks. Guys bumping chests, girls sloshing drinks, the trendy bartenders totally disinterested. Everywhere. I was generally amused by the whispers and looks we got by said bunches of people. I assume we looked out of place, or completely shocked by their behavior. By half past midnight it was obvious no matter where we ended up it was all a big fat downer. So what does one do in such situations? Well, I brought the party to us. Well, my apartment actually and what a humdinger it was! Gay boys and the fruit flies that love them, sassy chics and the artsy boys that love them, butch lezzies and the lipsticks that love them, intellectuals and the ones that listen to them. I swear there had to be 40 people in my place and everyone was having a rad time. Draped over the sofas, sitting cross legged on the beds, on the stairs, hanging out the window. Not one copper was called and there wasn't a huge mess to clean up. Made out with this hot chic, while her boyfriend looked lustily on. It was surprisingly easy to misbehave and host at the same time. I would say I would plan another one, but I think it was best that I didn't in the first place. I haven't been terribly spontaneous in a long while and I kinda missed it. Today, I am going to continue my spontaneity and do something completely random. I think I will start by hitting up the Yemeni restaurant down the street. There was some shady characters in there the other day, and by golly I want an adventure!

Monday, October 29, 2007

Full Circle. Ha!, Yeah right.

Well, howdy do-la. I am back. Sorta. I am taking it one step at a time. On my time by-gawd! Seriously has a been a while since I last posted hasn't it? Well shit, I have had a crazy go of it though. I really didn't have the stamina to poor my guts out over the last couple months to tell you the truth. I needed to grow and nurture and all that mumbo jumbo. But, I really needed to. I kept talking about actually going through the motions of growing and becoming a better person, but in all honesty, I was talking out of my ass. And such a cute ass it is. You should see it. Truthfully, I didn't know how to do it. How does a person self help, if he or she doesn't know what help they freaking need?!

In a nutshell, I will break down my calendar for the last 8 months or so. Ok, so in February my so called friend wanted to move back to his place in the Village. Turns out he was using my to have a nice little vacation in Miami Beach. Through the grapevine, people have whispered that he just kinda passed his resume around and hung out by the pool all day. Granted the dude said he would may decide to come back to his place but in all likelihood he was done with New York. So I took him at his word, shelled out all this cash, didn't sign a lease, and got ass fucked in the end. Not in a good way. It was his place though. Clue number one. I "believe" too much. I very often forget people promise a lot and don't follow through. More on this later.

So, back down to the shithole. Otherwise known as Miami. I seriously loath the place. Whenever I hear people exclaim how much they love Miami, want to choke them into clarity. But, I digress. So I did my whole fashion thing, racking up some money and subletting like a motherfucker. I slowly slid into the hole of depression. I tried so hard not to feel sorry for myself and my situation. It is so easy to start that whole woe-is-me bit and actually start to believe it! I suppose it is one of the traits I inherited from my mother. I slowly began to resent my father and all his money. I began to resent people that were successful. I soon began to realize I was beginning to hate myself. Yikes! What to do? I did what I've done a million times before. I ran away.

Running away never quite works for me in the way I want it too. Sure, short term it is all glorious, but ultimately I get back into my old habits. This time was different. I became truthful with myself. I said, "Joshua, what the fuck do you want?" And, I sat on it. Gagged, on my faults. Kicked myself around about my choices, and began to...well...grow. In essence I have been living my life incomplete. I wanted to be liked. There is this great line in the movie MAGNOLIA that one of the characters says over and over. "I have so much love to give, but I just don't know where to put it." Good one. I forgot to put the love in myself. My best friend busted me down and told me that I am self loathing. What a kick in the gut, but I'll be God damned if she weren't right. I had to start doing it my way. And REALLY do it my way. The way I wanted to do for so many years. I had to go back to the place that was the beginning of my own unraveling. I had to go back to New York. I had to come full circle and start again.

New York. Ok, so I flopped around for a couple of months. But, I am here again. I have set down roots. I have to become "me". I arrived in July, and have been the happiest I have been in years and years. I came up knowing I was going to go to school. Put myself in debt a bit more, as if I was a freshman in college striking it out on my own for the first time. For the first month, I was living with family in the mountains of New Jersey, since I hadn't found a place yet. Family that I had only heard about and met once or twice. It was such a reward to get to know them all and hear about all their family stories. And stories about how I changed the lives of many just by being born. I began to see where some of my faults of my father may actually not be faults at all. They actually may be habits, and walls of defense for his own survival. He still drives me insane, but I have my reasons for that too. I began to see my mother in a different light too. I suppose she made a lot of her choices based on the lack of guidance that she needed to get by. In doing so wasn't able to get out of that hole of self pity. We will never see each other again. I realize that now and with such confidence. She and I are on different paths, and will not meet at some crossroad. Slowly but surely, I am beginning to forget her entirely. I realized the other day I have completely forgotten what her voice sounds like. She hasn't crept into a dream in ages. She is but a whisper of a memory. I have almost forgotten the past, but funny how the past doesn't forget you.

Brothers. They too will never be a part of my life. Indifference to that one. 14 years of separation will do that. I did try and make one last ditch effort to contact my brother Brandon via Myspace. Funny how that little shit website puts you in touch with so many people. He wrote back. He needed to collect his thoughts. Those thought collections have been 6 months in the running. Hence, I have done my part. I have moved on and once again began to forget whatever lasting memory I have been holding onto. I have no idea where Kyle is. Nor do I care. "Oh my," you may say! "How cold and aloof". Oh please. Time will do that. There is no gut wrenching pain or regret I feel when I mention their names, or think about any of them. Nothing. So, why waste the energy. More energy for me to use on me.

New family. Two of them, a brother and a sister. Cute kids and all, but grrrr, this is going to sound a bit, well, mean...I don't care. I can't think of any way to fluff it up. Sure, I have a new half brother and sister, and I am the godfather and I am supposed to be all lovey-dovey and all. But, at 32 years of age, I am not about to start living vicariously through the decisions/choices my father makes. Ouch, even I had a hard time re-reading that last sentence. Its not that I won't take my duties as a godfather seriously though. I won't shirk away from that duty. There just isn't going to be a replacement for the family I had before. As fucked up as it is. Ultimately, I have no irrepressible urge to dive into the whole new baby thing. Before you begin to think there may be some resentment or some jealousy, think again. I just don't feel anything. Sucks, I know but such is life.

So much more to ramble on about. Wait 'till I get on about where I eventually moved too, and how it correlates with my past. It gets juicy. I may be using the words karma and fate a lot. In the meantime, I welcome myself back. I will enjoy my occasional diarrhea of the fingers. Its about time I began munching on some Peptobismal again. Its about time I grew the fuck up.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Yes, I know

Yes, I know my blog is outdated. I am working up to posting alot of new stuff but I have been swamped with working, and relocating again. Plus, frankly I just haven't fucking felt like posting. Nothing wrong with that right? Sorry for the "fucking" part.
In a nutshell, I have a new brother and sister. I am finally back in New York. I am working like a fool. I am enjoying my life as I see fit. And I have writers block. Soon, I promise. Soon.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007


I am going away for a while. Not like I haven't been away as it is. Mostly away from writing down my thoughts, and posting for all to see. I have been in a funk lately, so I think it is best for me to go off and get reconnected. I picked a doozie of a place to disappear though. Wyoming. Nothing but pure open sky and unbridled beauty. Old friend has a ranch out that way, so I guess I will be attempting to find my own little piece of Brokeback Mountain, sans the passionate love. I turned 32 last week. Hmmm. I don't know why I just typed that. Maybe I am scared of getting older? Who the hell knows anymore. I sure as shit don't. Don't you worry about me though, I will still keep a half smile on my face as I ride into the abyss that has consumed my heart.

And Again...

Ryan Keith Skipper, 25, was found stabbed to death by the side of Morgan Road near 19th Street West in Wahneta (Polk County, FL.) by a passing driver about 1:20 a.m. March 15. Deputies have arrested William David Brown Jr., 20, and Joseph Bearden, 21, charging them with first-degree murder and declaring the slaying a hate crime. A witness told detectives Skipper was killed because he was gay.

Hate crimes are on the rise. I went to the vigil held in his honor at the Gay and Lesbian Community Center in Ft. Lauderdale, FL. About 100 people showed up. I don't think there was enough press about this incident. Especially since Skipper's death mirrors Mathew Shepard brutal beating. When will we ever be safe?

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Still Happening...

In Detroit last week, 72-year-old Andrew Anthos was riding on a city bus and was asked by a fellow passenger if he was gay. The passenger then followed Mr. Anthos off the bus and attacked him with a metal pipe. Mr. Anthos died from his injuries Friday night and according to media reports, police are continuing the investigation without any solid leads.Under the current federal hate crimes statute, federal authorities have no jurisdiction to assist in this investigation, even if local authorities were to request that assistance.

Mr. Anthos was a staunch advocate to have the Capitol (Ohio) Dome lit with red, white, and blue in order to honour those soldiers who lost their lives and for those currently serving in one of the Armed branches.

Why is this still happening? I am sad.

p.s. I haven't been in the mood to spill my guts for a while. I will try and get back into the swing of things soon. I just have alot of stuff on my mind. Hope all is well with you, my friends in cyberspace.

Thursday, January 18, 2007


Day 16. No cigs for a few days now. Just getting over bronchitis too, which I think was obtained due to all the crap I've been coughing up. Getting over the three day hump was the hardest, but thankfully I haven't been wanting to eat like a pig. Cranky, moody, and miserable yes. Turning into a fatty, nope. I have been doing so well since I really want to light up. The guy who owns the place I am renting, wants to come back to NYC cause he hates where he is now living in Miami. Can't find a job, etc. So, once again I am back to looking for a place to live. I am really tired of it. Angry at someone. I can't disolve the relationship. Emotional, and having to take a break from making a difference. I need to work on myself. Before I break down and take another puff. Kinda a crappy start to the New Year.
I crashed here a couple times when I was homeless. Redhook. It is only one that I can find, and remember. I cried this day.

Monday, January 08, 2007

Nighty, Night...

The only thing you will regret is denying who you really are.

Good night, sleep well and dream your impossible dreams, for when you wake the day is new, the world is yours, and your destiny will shape the future.


The West Village is a death trap!! Oh, I know I am being melodramatic, but yesterday I woke up to the sounds of sirens because the building behind mine was on fire. Then when I was leaving this morning there was another fire across the street. Now, after just getting back from my lecture the smell of gas was extremely strong getting off the subway. As I was walking to my place off of Bank Street, there were cops and fire people EVERYWHERE! I mean tons of people running around, slightly panic stricken. So, I pulled up CNN and MSNBC, and apparently there is a gas leak that is showing up everywhere including Jersey, which originated in the West Village according to Mayor Bloomberg. Just swell.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Back on Track...

I kinda miss my long hair today. I dunno why, maybe because I have a new friend that has longish hair and I'm kinda jealous. Maintenance was a bitch though. Anywho, so getting back on track in the New Year. Aside from feeling a bit cranky today from my efforts to quit smoking I am ready to get back into the swing of things. The last 6 weeks has been a chaotic whirlwind and I think now I am just now able to touch the floor. Tomorrow I will have the pleasure of sitting on a panel at a University and speak about my experiences of being a homeless gay youth, and my efforts to bring that subject into mainstream conversations in the gay/lesbian community. The lecture will be with the University's Queer Studies department in conjunction with the Constitutional Law classes. Mostly the topics discussed will be about our rights and where they stand after the interim election. Now that the Democrats are in office, past efforts to solidify basic human rights will be back in the public eye. At least I hope they do. Seems like all the politicians these days want to satisfy everyone and gravitate towards the middle. No rocking of the boat in Washington, but being out of sight out of mind just isn't working.
I hope what I have been doing, and what concerns I have for youth will be absorbed. I am not exactly sure what the response will be, but I would like it to go over well. When I broach the subject of prosecuting parents for kicking their gay kids out of the home, most people raise their eyebrows. A lot of people think that the kids should abide by the rules of the home, and if that includes not allowing those kids to explore their feelings, then so be it. They can do whatever they want when they hit 18. Obscure argument, and I never know the right answer to it. Others feel that we need to get recognition by the government first then we can work on the discrimination that occurs in the home. Again, another obtuse point, but valid none-the-less. Will recognizing gay/lesbians as a group of people that needs protection under the Constitution eradicate the bigotry in religious households? Hell, are we even a "special" group of people? Aren't we just people? Round and round we go again. This battle just keeps getting more and more complicated, doesn't it??
Secondly, I am in the pursuit of finding a new agent here in New York. That is such a mission in itself. I am so laid back, and I find myself wading through the political b.s. and egos tiring. My work as a makeup artist should speak for itself, and I shouldn't have to sell myself as hard as I am doing. I going to agent to get them to work for me. Not the other way around. I have yet to figure out the nuances of the fashion industry. Maybe I am too nice, and need to step up in the diva department. Ugggg, that karma is just no fun to deal with though. Who likes dealing with a egotistical maniacal homo? Hell, I can't do it and I'm gay! It seems like people really like to see that pomp and circumstance when an artist walks onto a set or in a room. It is almost expected. Lord, winning the lottery would be swell right about now.

Friday, January 05, 2007

I Can Barely Sleep...

I am waking up in the middle of the night over and over. Last night I had the worst nightmares. Unimaginable terror at 2:30 in the morning, and I couldn't get back to sleep for another hour and a half. The picture above is on New Years morning, I think the most sleep I've gotten in days. I was wondering if it was because I quit smoking as a resolution, or if it stress. I just wanna sleep a whole night through, damn it. By the way Brad, if you are reading this, you better have quit the cancer sticks too. I thought you said you were going to do it last year!!

So, my Aunt on my mother's side came up to Manhattan with her new partner (well new to me). It was such a pleasant visit filled with happiness. Auntie's partner was so happy to meet someone in the family that didn't reject her and show her bigotry. It is so weird for me to be the beacon of guidance on how to handle bigots, coming out of the closet and rejection for my aunt. Especially since she is a bit older than my mother, around my dad's age actually. Weird cause I was left to deal with my mother's cruelty for years, and now I am the one that is trying to get everyone to grow the fuck up. Infuriating in some aspects. Who am I to be pissed though? I should just be happy that people are seeing that its ok to falter, plummet to the pit of despair and yank yourself up again. Hell, I am pissed about a few of the adults in my life. My dad, my aunts, grandmothers. The majority of them ignored my plight for decades, and now I am the one helping them through their little life crisis's. Am I being a little bitch for feeling this way? Lord, maybe I just need a good beejer.

This week has been a week of wiping the old slate and starting anew. I am on the search for a new agent up in New York. That in itself is stressful. Letting someone else take my career in their hands and pushing me farther. That maybe the only thing I am confident will pan through. I just wish I would hurry up and find one that is going to work well with me. Oh yeah, I found out my godmother/Aunt is the Vice President of a major cosmetics company, the same one that recently got remarried to a filthy rich man and didn't invite me. Not that I support the institution of marriage, and probably would have blow it off, but she spent $100,000 on the wedding, the least she could have done was splurged on an invitation, right? Best still, is that she lives in Manhattan! Details are sketchy but she is either near me in the West Village, or on Park Ave. I am sure this little bit of info is going to turn into something scandalous. I just goes to prove you can't pick your family, you have to appreciate all their little nuances. Do we? Hmmmm, I don't think so.

Sunday, December 31, 2006

Buh-bye 2006!

So, what a year huh? It was chock full of hum-dingers, from the Canadian ice shelf breaking off to the Republican morality scandals. Granted you couldn't really rely on the traditional press to give accurate news, so we turned to alternate ways of communication, educating ourselves from every corner of the Earth. We made friends 3,000 miles away, marveled at each other's creativity and determination to have their voices hear. I sit on my bed typing this, clearing my cobwebs with a good cup o' joe, hours away from a New Year biting my lip in anticipation. I mean, seriously I am going blind into 2007 no clue as to what is going to happen. I'll be damned if it ain't exhilarating as hell.

It seems this Holiday season was wrought with tension and anxiety. Everyone seems to be running around blindly, more tense than a cat on a hotplate. Honestly, the spirit has just been sucked right out of the season. I would have been more comfortable staying in New York and volunteering or something of the sort. Instead, I had to jump on a plane, and camp out in Florida for 8 days, run around and fight the crowds to buy gifts with what little flow I have left. I cannot state enough of how not into it I was. I think being alone (as in boyfriendless, again) also brought me down a bit. This is like the 500th Christmas without a significant other, and I swear I am about to go through ANOTHER New Years Eve kissing a friend instead of someone I want to plow like a pornstar. Alright, enough of the pity party and back to family. Sooooo, I did enjoy most of the stay in Florida, because I was hammered most of the time. One thing about my family, they like to slosh them back. Only thing is, once the alcohol starts being consumed, the fluff disappears and the truth comes out.

One prevailing theme this year: Joshua needs all the support, since he is too skinny, apparently starving in New York, broke, wasting his life on ambitious artistic dreams, yadda, yadda, yadda. I am sure everyone hears harping around the holidays, but for me drinking eggnog laced with half a bottle of whiskey was not enough to muffle the words of doubt, or blur the looks of pity and concern. From my grandmother (whom currently feels she is about to die) telling me I need to "come home" to my father telling me that I need to start making "this New York thing" work. What they don't see is how disconnected I feel every time I get off the plane in Miami. I just cannot find a reason to be there. I literally almost lost it about 50 times, and Christmas Eve was a exercise in restraint that would have Depak Chopra showering me with praise.

Even better, I find out the night I arrived that my stepmother is pregnant with twins. Oh yes, dad is 54 and about to have 2 new kids in his life. Now, there is a large part of me that is excited for the old man. I mean, new life is wonderful. I want kids of my own, if I ever get a freaking husband. I will be in my 60's when they hit my age. How nuts is that?? I know they have been trying to conceive for a couple of months, but it was still a shocker when I heard the news. I will be the godfather. It will be kinda weird giving spiritual guidance since I don't actually believe in a God. My stepmother is pretty religious, so I am sure we will but heads on my views of spirituality. It is a big step in both of their lives really. No more expensive trips to the far reaches of the world. Their mansion, which is a death trap with its 30 foot ceilings, 150 feet of waterfront, swimming pool, marble floors and cut coral staircase, will have to be sold. Since I expect my stepmother to be a stay at home mom, dear old dad will be practically living out of his office now. No more last minute house parties. And, biggest of all, I have absolutely no intentions of moving back to Miami to help out. None. I have a feeling that this was an expectation on everyone's part. No way, hell no, you gotta be kidding. I wish them all the luck in the world, I really do; but I cannot say how much I am valuing the distance between me and my family right now. Out of sight, out of mind so to speak. That is gut wrenching for me to say, since for such a long time I didn't have the access to any family. I fought for a long time to gain their support, love, understanding and made many sacrifices doing so. I have missed something in that process, and in 2007 I intend to find the lesson.

The New Year. At midnight, the slate wipes clean, and again you can rework your destiny. Reflect on past mistakes, triumphs, pain, happiness. It is easier said than done. Always is, especially admitting to yourself that some of your choices were not in your best interest. It is also a time to evaluate relationships, reestablish boundaries, take walls down, climb over others. So, when you are kissing someone into the New Year, or alone taking in the revelry on t.v., standing on your rooftop seeing the fireworks, just know somehow, somewhere you are making a difference. In the grad scheme of things, you are just a second burst of light. Just make sure that second dazzles and burns with such intensity that eternity will remember and will be blessed you tried your damnedest to make it count.

Friday, December 01, 2006

!@*&# Bank!! I loathe them!!

I really want to cry. On November 10th, I noticed charges on my account, funds taken out via ATM, etc. Total is in the thousands. Now, initially I thought it was a mistake, so when I got back up to NYC on the 15th I ran into the bank to check them out. Turns out Citibank (fuckers) sent out another MasterCard/Debit card to GAWD KNOWS WHERE in Miami. Most likely it went to my old address and some ghetto ass motha fucka got ahold of it and blew all my money. So now, on December 1st I am still without my funds refunded back to me. No returned calls on the status of the fraud investigation, every time I call in there seems to be a new answer. First I was told that my money would be refunded in seven business days, then it was ten now its lovely customer service reps (retards) are saying it could be up to two (arrrg) months!!! I am a private banker with this shithole bank, so naturally I would expect a tad bit better service then the average joe. My personal banker has been out of the office since September 22nd. Thanks for the warning Paula! Bitch, you better be pregnant. Now the last time I was running around New York City without money, I was a kid and living on the streets.
I am not about to be running around selling my ass for some money. Especially since I did all the police work, got all the reports, and locations of the transaction. Why can't this bank just pull the a.t.m. tapes? They can take my money but won't give it back!! ARRRRGGGGGG!! I can't complain until I get every penny back, but I know the second I do, I will be sure to make someone cry. I HATE CITIBANK. Ok, that helped.

Sunday, November 26, 2006



On Friday, when relatives arrived at her apartment to check on her, they found dishes unwashed by the kitchen sink, and her bed, a mattress on the floor, unmade.

A gay pride flag was spread across her bedroom floor, below the blood-streaked walls.

Priscilla, from Bethlehem, PA., a very small town where everyone knows your business, moved to New York in her teens. She made the move because she knew she was gay, and wanted to avoid hurting her mother's feelings. Being from a large Puerto Rican family she knew the stigma associated with homosexuality, especially in Latin culture. Yet despite the move, she remained close with her family often visiting home often full of jokes and witty impersonations.

She was a bartender in Queens and building a life for her self in the upcoming lesbian community. She had a relationship with a woman for about two years that she took home twice to meet the family. When the relationship ended a few months back, she took up skydiving and recently dyed her hair flaming red. She seemed to be loving life.

She was found Friday bound with her hands behind her back, and stabbed multiple time in the bathtub, along with her dog Gucci. Now, currently the investigation is under way and the police have admitted that there was no forced entry, but they did mention that the possibility Priscilla was targeted because she was gay, was certainly one of the top motives being investigated. Especially, since Queens has been seeing a rise in hate crimes this year. I hope that she wasn't targeted for this reason. As I hear more stories of crimes against gays, lesbians, and transgendered people I keep wondering when our elected leaders are going to wake up and realize that we need anti-discrimination legislation. With this country's politicians constantly pandering to the religious right I wonder if we will get this legislation. It isn't a religious right to not live in fear, it is a basic human right.

Friday, November 24, 2006

Ain't That Some Shit?

So, my Thanksgiving was uneventful as far as the dinner and all that junk is concerned. It was a nice and calm holiday for me, and I couldn't been anymore thankful. I was nice and lazy, did some volunteering, and went to a friend's house for the extremely traditional turkey dinner. I think Thanksgiving is a day to catch up with people that you have been meaning to get in touch with for a while. Now, admittedly I took the easy route on some calls and did the whole text message thing. So, a bit embarassed by that tackiness, so if you got a text message from me, it had to have been later in the day when I was mentally drained and not in the mood to talk on the phone. I has no reflection on who you are at all, swear! Mentally drained you ask? But why, it was a "lazy day" and all, right? Well, in certain respects, yes it was. Until I decided to try and get ahold of some aunts on my mother's side.

So, first up was dear Auntie Cathy (after trying to get ahold of my godmother with no luck since she changed all her numbers). Now, I feel I have spoken with her more recently but apparently it has been some time since I have reached out. Now, my aunt is the oldest sibling of my mother. And, my mom loathed her because she felt she got all the attention, being first born and all. My mother could have spent about 10 years in therapy just for these feelings. Anywho, she caught me up on the gossip of the family and herself. The godmother got married to some filthy rich old guy. (Thanks for the invite!) I need to mention that my godmother was the second one in her family to get a divorse after my mother. She was married to a woman hating, drunkard, ex-priest. Yes, her former husband was a priest when she met him. Scandal!! Anywho, so she married rich. Good for her. My Aunt Cathy, too is divorsed. The third in the family to get divorsed. It has been about 4 and a half years. Her husband was a cold and selfish man, also a friend of the bottle. Which of course is too bad, because Cathy really only wanted to have a family and a farm. She had all that until she realized that the man was a dick. Then the bombshell!!

While divorsing her husband, Cathy moved off the farm, her pride and joy and moved in with a fellow pediatric nurse and confidant we'll call Michelle. Well, needless to say Cathy and Michelle haven't left each other's side since shortly after moving in. That's right, my Aunt Cathy, the oldest child in an extremely devout Catholic family, married to her husband for 25 years, had three kids by him, and now a lesbian! This relationship is going on 4 years. I have spoken to other members of the family and there has been no mention of Michelle! Even my grandmother has kept me in the dark. Well, I guess I now know what side of the gene pool I get it from!

I am happy for her, she really seems shocked by it all. Even four years later. She is begining to see the hypocrisy of the Catholic faith as well as her family. The sisters will not speak of it, nor is Cathy's partner included in any family events. Cathy's kids have no problems with it, so that is the upside to the whole matter. However, it appears that I being the rebel black sheep of the family, aside from my mother, is now out of that spotlight. The torch has been passed to Cathy. Here's why. Aparently, everyone thinks that I am straight (or at least going through a phase). So guess who has to come out of the closet AGAIN at the next family function? Moi! Which at 31 years old, is so lame. I am not really sure what I am supposed to do with this information! I am awash with emotion. Aside from continuously having to pick my jaw off the floor every time I think about it, I am also thinking how great it would have been to have a lesbian aunt when I was coming out and on the streets. Apparently my mother told everyone that I was gay when I was young, well before I even knew what I wanted. I could have used some guidance. And who the hell else has a secret? Who else might be gay? Cousins, uncles? Any of my brothers? Man, this so called life is just filled with some crazy ass shit, ain't it?? I need to start writing a book, cause it doesn't get any better than this. Actually, it probably does. Stay tuned, beyotches.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Turkey Day!

It is nice and dreary today, the big holiday when we are to give thanks for everything that we have including this great country stolen by whiping out an indigenous people. I don't mind so much the rain actually. I was far too lazy to actually get out of my snug and cozy bed. So those who are on the parade route are very brave. Or really stupid, I haven't figured out which. So, I sip my French Roast coffee, in my new apartment in New York's West Village, waiting for my crepe dijonaisse to finish cooking up. I have opt out of the family celebrations this year for a few reasons all of which have left me with peace of mind.

I've decided to stay away from Miami for the holiday for one major reason. Now, I have been labeled an instigator for a fight, or a sour puss by some. I could care less actually, I feel my point needed to be made and I might have to continue the point into the Christmas season. Here it is. My Uncle Rob (we'll call him that because that is his name) has been dating this woman for a few years named Pam. Now most members of my father's family don't really like the chic, but understand that Rob does, so grumbles are kept behind closed doors. Until the wine comes out. I have been nice to her, I think my family can be really critical so I of course gave her a chance. Until recently. Pam, has two daughters. One of which is recently turned 17. And, she was caught in bed with another young lady, by my uncle. I saw that coming a mile away, you know, gay-dar and all. However, the turn of events afterward has floored me. It is well known in the family that I am openly gay, and chapion for gay/lesbian rights, especially when it comes to gay youth. So, when I recently heard that Pam's daughter moved out of her house and in with the girlfriend. My eyebrow was raised.

Pam is a girly girl. Well, actually more like trailer tramp but I ain't one to judge. Her daughter is not. At all. I mean she could kick my ass. Her mom has been trying to get me to "help" her daughter out by pleading with me to set up a photoshoot for modeling, teach her makeup technique etc. Said daughter, (can't remember her name, so we will go with Thelma) seemed receptive but only to try and elevate herself in her mother's eyes. Now that Thelma has found herself, and realized her true self, mommie dearest has done what every non-existant parent does when they find out that their child is gay. Become more distant, protect their image, and cushion their egos, and alienate said child. So much so that obviously the condition in the home has become so unbearable that Thelma moved out. The second this occured, the locks were changed. See where this is going??

So, knowing Pam would be at Thanksgiving dinner at my father's house I let the old man know I really cannot support this woman anymore, and really didn't want to be in the same house with her. Her behavior is unbelievavble, and I shouldn't be expect to hold my tongue around someone who is such a bigot. I've learned to shut my mouth when it comes to my opinion on the Republican party. However, I just can't back down on this other matter. Am I being fair? I mean, it really isn't my place to tell someone how to raise their children? I suppose not, so why not show up and become a walking tirade? Frankly, I just don't want to deal with the drama that will ensue once I get a glass of Proseco in me. That is what Christmas dinner is for. So, I sold out in some aspect. Then again, I have watch my hips so I am saving myself a few extra miles on the treadmill. Today, on this day of thanks, I am thankful that I can sleep in, I don't have to cook the potatoes. Don't have to deal with bigotry and ignorance. Its a good day.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Heads or Tails!

It is fascinating to me how people take for granted their own lives. Me, having been quite reckless myself many of times can't really judge too much, but I was completely aware of my actions. I was pushing the envelope as close to death as I could, just to feel alive. More-so because I could. However, the comes a time (or a few) when you just want to throttle someone and slap them silly. Especially since said person is throwing away precious borrowed moments for a good taste of old fashion drama and attention.
Now, I cannot presume to understand the mental anguish someone with HIV/AIDS lives with on a daily business. I would be a fool and arrogant to say that I did. We all have our subjects we know more about than others. With the exception of one man, every friend that I have that is HIV positive understands that they are on a timetable. It is its own entity, HIV. Those same people are some of the most amazing people I have ever encountered. They live and fight and educate and encourage. Bad days, yes. But for the most part you can see some amazing examples of what make humans unique in their ability to adapt and persevere.
This one man, my ex, is a train wreck waiting to happen. I mean one of those high speed Euro trains kinda wreck. I knew I shouldn't have dated him, and I had some of the best advice I have ever gotten from someone about dating someone with HIV, and still I dove right in trying to fix him. No regrets of course, I had fun but I did it all for the wrong reasons. I wasn't in love with him, I was in love with the idea of loving someone who is broken. Since I have suffered a whole bunch, I hate seeing others who are suffering. My big flaw is that I try too hard to help. Its a flaw because I sometimes let my normal instincts get clouded. In his case I am trying to be a friend after the fact, and I am seeing now that this most likely will not be able to take place. I don't want to divulge any of the mind games he plays, because that would be...well...third grade of me. However, I am furious at the fact he doesn't take care of himself physically. Piles of coke, pills, crystal, booze. Sometimes a day without eating. Uppers to wake up, downers to sleep. Even more frustrating is the fact that he is completely aware of what he is doing and his reasoning is that he just wants to have fun. Six years into his diagnosis and all he wants to do is just have fun. Is it my place to even get mad at him? It's his life right? What the fuck should I care if he is going sliding into the grave ridden hard and haggard! Maybe because I value his life just as much as I value mine. It is a gift. No matter how hard I have had it, I always wanted to live.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Catching the Sun...

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The Democrats now control the House and the Senate, Rumsfeld resigns and the world is all better, right? What a nice little dream that would be. I went to a political event on Saturday for Equality Florida. It was at a club (of course) and sponsored by alcohol companies (double of course) and from what I could tell it was a party for cruising. Ok, maybe I am being a tad jaded, but everyone was all about Gay Marriage this, and Gay Marriage that. Puhlease. Now, I am a hopeless romantic as I have said before, and all for the house with the vineyard and 3.2 kids and husband but why the gay caucus adopted "gay marriage" as acceptable terminology for basic human rights is bizarre. It is phrase created by the Christian and Conservative Right to get their core base fired up about the conspiratorial gay agenda. Implications that we 'mos want to spread our evil ways and take over the institution of marriage. However, of course it is a legal contract to protect two peoples assets (etc.). Ok, so why this big push?? Why does everyone have to use this phrase. Don't you think that shit will get passed easier if we just change the labeling?
I also noted that people were talking about the rumors of our new Gov. Elect Charlie Crist. Yes, those rumors. Butt Pirate, fudge packer, friend of Dorothy. It was on everyone's lips. Hell, my father knew before I did. People were actually EXCITED that there could be a chance that he would win. Now that he is in, if the rumors are true, then Floridians should be worried. Since I am registered here (but live in NY) I have to be concerned for my fellow mo's rights. Gov. Charlie Crist has publicly stated that he is against "gay marriage" and would vote against any measures that came across his desk. Rumors be true, shouldn't we be concerned that there is a closeted gay man in office working for the Republican agenda in a state already reeling from the Mark Foley fiasco? Don't get me started on that fool. Its too easy.
The point I am haphazardly trying to make is this. Our people, or nation or whatever you want to call gays/lesbians as a whole is STILL missing the point. Marriage is not as important that lets say a national anti-discrimination law. Wasn't there a couple of guys in Idaho that got three years for nearly killing two gay men in a vicious gay bashing?? What about the rights of gay youth and their education? Don't mean to beat a dead horse here, but before we accomplish something amazing as "gay marriage" maybe our youth should feel confident enough to come out at 10 or 15 or 18. What about addressing the ever growing racism in our community? Hey, look the nation wants some changes and their votes reflected that. What about us? Do we think things are going to get better? Are you encouraged by the changes? The time is ripe, carpe diem and all that jazz.

Monday, October 02, 2006

The Double Standard...

You abandoned us. You left us to her delusions and her demons. You let her tear you apart and tear you down. You let her take away your pride, your manhood. You let her get away with it. You claim it was a sacrifice to give it all up, but it was a choice. The choice was yours to fight, to have faith in the legal system, faith in yourself. The choice was not easy, you were scared your precious guilded image was going to be sand blasted into oblivion. However, what others thought of you was not what you should have cared about. You should have cared about us, the innocents. The impressionable, the hurt. We looked to her for guidance and received deceipt. We looked to her to be the voice of reason amongst the chaos and became convinced that her ideals were correct, because we saw no other way. We had no other guidance. We held on to her, because her version of love was all we had that was tangible and visible. We abandoned our love for each other. Hers was so disgusting and evil that we kids had only enough energy to comprehend one travesty at a time,sacrificing each other to survive. I tried to rise up, to show that hope prevails above all else. I made sacrifices, I smiled dispite the suffering, and I got back up. Again, and again, and again. I continue to make sacrifices to find sound footing. Yet, when I steady my wobbly knees with you, you rattle my Earth once again. You have me running around in circles with your empty promises, the dangling of the sugared carrot has been pulled out of my reach one too many times. My heart is numb, my stomach in knots, my mind weary. Blow after blow and yet I still try to move planets, change time, create illusions to cushion your ego, have you see that you should have fought for me. For us. You should have been our rock, our salvation, our proof that hope prevails. You should have been our father.

(adapted/compiled from various journal entries 1993-2006)

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Part Deux...

The venti Sumatra with a shot of espresso is not pulling me out of this fog this morning. It is like a quagmire of Tylenol PM, human emotions, drama, and questions. I'm about to move onto yet another protein shake, which added to my already nautious stomach is about as fun as shoving a pencil in my eye.

The questions is, where do I start. Do I fire my agent for dropping the ball on what was potentially going to take my career into the public eye, by becoming greedy? Or do I just give my father the rude awakening he so deserves by putting him in his place, and reminding him that he dropped the ball with me one too many times for his trite advice to really make a difference in my life. Is it senility that he is suffering from, or is it once again his constant crafty need to try and control my life via his capitalistic lawyerly ways. Do I make the effort to reach out and communicate with my mother's side of the family, knowing full well that most likely that it will invite negativity and those inevitable questions; "Have you heard from your mother? (No), What about your brothers, do you know how they are? (Not since 1993, you know that) What do you think went wrong? (I dunno, maybe because she is FUCKING CRAZY???) What they hell?? I am the one that got the bum deal, the beatings and the mental aguish, all along they knew this was going on, and NOW they need to know answers why their sister/daughter behaved the way she did. Answer is simple. She took the easy route. It is soooo much easier to make others suffer than to suffer yourself. Interesting how my father 2 months ago, on the verge of having his second marriage dissolve because he controls and does not communicate, cried and cried for advice and help in saving his marriage. And when my sage advice and rude awakening came he took it and bettered his life. Yet missed that I was hurting. Odd how humans do that, huh?

And what about "him"? The one I let get to me dispite the fact my friends and my own little devil and angel on the shoulder told me RUN DAMN IT, RUN!! He is HIV+ and there is nothing I can do to take that away. Sorry, but I am also not putting my life at risk any more. Being negative after all this time dispite all the horrible shit that happened to me, and I am amazed I have even considered being in a relationship with this person up until this point. I alway tell people, that you need to think for yourself because you only have you to lean on when things get shitty. And frankly I have been, but now I have to think about him. What about his emotions which are all over the place due to the meds. He tells me he shouldn't be alive. He tells me that he is falling in love with me. I tell him not to hang on, cause even if he wasn't positive, I am a piece of work. Dark and brooding just barely covers it. I hate having to explain what that scar is for, or what that burn mark is from. Puts me in an point of internal rage. Yet, he hangs on. Maybe he just needs someone to snuggle up against late at night when he is scared. Is it fair of me to let him do it?

So once again, I am back to living and loving and fighting and screaming internally. Which person do I address first, and how do I keep all the emotions separate even though all those lines are a little blurry. I feel like that caged cougar at the zoo, all black and fiercely determine to pace back and forth with anxiety, waiting for that moment to spring into action. Run wild and free, or maul to death my oppressors. Until then, I just have to wait for 7 and 4 when they slide the chopped up meat in the cage to abate my hunger and until that day I am free again.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Random Blllaaaahhhhhh....

I love the smell of newsprint. I love cloud watching at night. Especially on a full moon. I hate when people read over my shoulder on the train. I love the smell of freshly baked croissants. Reminds me of Paris. I don't understand why people don't use turn signals. Is it that hard to "flick". I love the smell of fresh sea spray. But only from the coast of Spain or Miami Beach. Anything north of Ft. Lauderdale makes me sick. I hate platinum bleached hair, no matter what is does to the features. I love little old people. I just want to snatch them up in my six foot four frame and give them smootches. I love Black Cubans. I mean those amazing Afro-Carib people that just fucking LIVE. I love the sounds of a great Cuban jazz band. I hate Regaeton. I mean really, even if I understand the Spanish slang, it all sounds the same to me. I love other people's success. I hate that sometimes it doesn't translate to me. I want a man that will take care of me. I love being a hopeless romantic. I hate that I can't achieve it. I am not a big fan of New Orleans, dispite all their travesty I frankly could care less. I hate that it sounds so shallow that I say that. I love that I can be honest enough to do so. I hate that I was able to open up and be receptive to date an HIV positive man. I hate that he hates himself so much that he feels it was ok to date behind my back. Well maybe not hate, that is too harsh. I dislike it. There I said it. What? I love that I can make a mean ass crepe. I hate that I can't make a mean ass omlet to save my life. And by gawd I live by that stove. I love that I can actually cook on a stove, instead of a pile of crates and newspaper. I love that I can let my former life former life. I love that I can reflect on my past mistakes. I hate that sometimes I miss the lessons. I love that I can have a crush on someone 3000 miles away and know nothing will ever happen. I hate that I can't jump on a plane run crying like a big queen and tell him how I feel. I love that I know that it is best that I don't. I love to drink good wine and hold it in, so you can feel that soft pressure of a full bladder. Makes you somehow feel alive. I hate when you "break the seal" and by God you pee 500 time in an hour. I hate hangovers. Yet, I give them to myself all the time. I love the feel off really cold sheet when you have a buzz. I love it even better when I am sober. I miss a good hug. I love a deep one. I don't do it enough. I hate that I am too afraid to touch. I hate that I am too afraid to hug. I hate that I am afraid that others won't love. I hate that I am scared to love myself. I love slugs. So gross I know. I love this weird fascination with slobbery dogs. Makes me feel like a boy. I love being mischevious. I love the fact that people see me as a being dark and brooding. I hate why people don't understand why I am. I love being alive damn it. I just freaking love it.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Yeah, Yeah. I know...

Ok so yes I haven't been posting. I have been traveling the world. Trying to find myself and help those I encounter in the process. Below is the transcript from a recent reading from Willing Warrior. Brad is expanding his horizons and trying his hardest to encompass the world. I have been blessed to be a part of that. Thank you Brad, and those of you who are beginging to realize we need to fight. Joshua

Part one:
September 27th, 10:38 pm. Brooklyn. Black Chevy Impala. I tell Guillemo to look at the license plate. Yes, this is the real time and date. I will never forget that date. The scar under my chin, or the one on my cheek will not let me forget. I have been on the street thirteen days. I try every few hours to call my mom to get me home. Home that is non existent cause frankly she doesn’t want me there. Twenty five bucks for head. Seventy five for more. I have 250 saved up, which isn’t bad since I eat like a pig. He seems normal. Cute, blonde hair, chocolate brown eyes. The wedding band on his finger threw me for a loop, but shit, I’m eighteen. And new to the game. He takes me to Eldert. Not so good. Little sketchy, near a beer distribution plant but good lighting. Something bugs me. Not the sketchy area, not the car, but how cute and young he is. I ask him what he wants, still not sure of the trick/whore etiquette yet. Everything. All right! Closer to my goal to get off these shit filled, scary ass streets. Despite my position, I am still acting like an elitist snob. I am too good for this. I am too cute for this. He is sensual at first. Sensing my apprehension he goes into machismo control. Not to bad at first, but a little grabby. Not my cup of tea, being the hopeless romantic that I am. Maybe, I’ve seen Pretty Woman too many times but of course in my position who doesn’t want the wealthy hottie to take me away from this? He bites. Hard. Not my cup of tea. But, I stay. Again with the biting. Are you kidding me with this. What kind of foreplay is this? Now I am apprehensive and say...”You need to calm down!” That was the wrong thing to say. The knife is not what I expected. I was expecting that whole Crocodile Dundee butch mammoth knife to come out. HA! I was actually shocked at the travesty of it. A fucking serrated kitchen knife. You know the one that does a bad job cutting a bad cut of steak? I’ll be damned if it didn’t leave a mark though. Its amazing how much blood comes out of a wound above the neck. It is amazing how much pain something no more than the length of a calculator can cause INSIDE you. Its amazing how much pain being pushed out of a Chevy Impala with a work book causes to your spirit.

Three little letters. HIV. Six months of wondering if the man that raped me so hard that I required 7 stitches “down there” gave me those three little letters. A death warrant. When the final word came that I was free and clear the emotions that overwhelmed me was surprising. I wanted to die. I did not deserve what my mother did to me. I did not want to face the world with the complete and utter lack of knowledge of how humans could take such and ugly turn. The easy turn. It was easy to rape me, because by his standards I was gutter trash. He didn’t need to know that I actually used to live on the top floor of a luxury home, or that my intelligence got me accepted partial scholarship into Yale. He took all that away and took my doubt of a higher being, or a belief in myself.

Flash forward to 2006. I have fallen for a boy. Man, really. He makes me laugh. He is scared to hear about my past because he sees me as this god that can defeat the world. His friends are in awe of my advice. Nothing compared to living on the street. Everyone has given me the nickname Prophet. Ironic since I can’t tell the future, but I can spot an evil person 100 yards away. I have managed to stay HIV negative despite the coke habit, and the GHB overdoses. Negative despite the times I have tried to die by someone else's hands. I have fallen for a wonderful boy who makes me happy. A boy that told me 3 weeks ago to the day that he is HIV positive. Are you kidding me? Did I get a defective deck of cards? What is more surprising is that the second he told me, I ran out and got my test. Anonymously, so not to be put on a list. And here I am 15 days (business days) still waiting. It seems that where I live HIV is not a big concern. I live in a city that men that are HIV come to die. My results are lost in the mail. POOF, gone. And all I want to know is if the person I have fallen for supposed to be the one I am with for life. What if I am negative? What does that mean to us? What if I am positive, what does that mean to me? My life will change...again! Why do I keep getting these challenges damn it?? I have a good heart and I care for everyone. Why do these people keep telling me “Call us tomorrow” Is it normal for me to question my existence? Why am I so scared that I might be positive due to some asshole that raped me, or cheated on me, or the fact I have not been 100% safe 100% of the time. Why am I so ashamed that my country feels it is more PROFITABLE to treat the disease than to cure it, despite every 15 minutes someone, man or woman is infected. America hs 1.2 million people infected with the disease, Africa almost 3 million. That number includes CHILDREN. Why does my President feel that cutting the funding for education and prevention is going to benefit anyone? Why have I been so lucky up until this point, despite my previous death wish. Do you care? Do you fight for this travesty, this pandemic? There is a beautiful word in the English dictionary that encompasses so many issues. The word is ROAR. Why, God damn it aren’t enough of you out there using this beautiful word for our cause. ROAR damn it! Roar.

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

The Badly Needed Break...

Man oh man, did I need this break. Aside from nearly checking myself into a mental facility for the fear of a nervous breakdown, I needed to create as well. So, Sunday I ran away from the big ol' city of Manhattan and scurried up to Fire Island. I had the pleasure of staying in "The Pines" with a photo crew and some models whom all got along so wonderfully. I considered it one of my gay family outings, considering all of us save one were gay. I suppose your family is really what you make of it. Or rather, who you choose to make your family. So, I was able to create and relax and work on my tan. And eventually get naked, skinny dip with tons of people, get delightfully drunk, make out with a straight chick, make out with a gay boy, and well...I digress. My tan is spectacular might I add.

Fire Island. Well for those of you who don't know, Fire Island is sort of a gay/lesbian enclave off of Long Island. Each minute on the ferry ride over calms you down and prepares you for either complete and utter debauchery or complete and utter tranquility. The lesbians have their little area called Cherry Grove. Irony at its finest. The Pines is more geared for the men, although everyone intermingles nicely. It is pitch black at night might I add, which makes it easier to maintain its "playground" status. Google it if you need more of a hint. I didn't seem to notice any high drama or cattiness usually associated with large groups of the 'mos congressing together. Its not to say it isn't clickish, I just didn't seek it out or feel that vibe because frankly I could have given two shits about what one damned Mary had to say, I was trying to release my negative buildup on the ocean breeze. I know I wished on a shooting star Monday night, but I was a tad bit tipsy and can't remember all of what I wished for. Hence, the whole thing of me getting naked (and I promise I was one of the last ones). I am searching out who has what pictures, because the last thing I need is a full frontal popping up on the internets. I may be a whore in the bedroom, but I am a complete gentleman in the living room, and I do have that reputation to uphold. Granted if I was stupid enough to let the pictures get know the rest.

Well, hopefully I will be able to regroup after that excursion and begin anew with working on me, and guiding others. I would like to get back to volunteering again, but the last time around seemed a bit overwhelming. Maybe I won't do as much. Maybe I will try another approach. However, until I can save the world, I'm taking each moment and chewing on it a bit more. I seem to be rushing through life with reckless abandon. Some lady on the train this afternoon told me that I needed to smile more, since I have a nice smile and I needed to bless others with it. I don't recall smiling at all today actually, but grinned ear to ear just for her. We both needed it.

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Question Yourself...

What have you done today to make you feel proud?

I've Got It, I've Got It...

Alright, so the old man and the family is in Europe now at a villa in Tuscany surrounded by decadence and magical wonder. And, if I fucking have to hear about one more fantastical bottle of wine, one more excellent dinner done by this spectacular chef, or how upset that I am not there with the "family", I will purchase a ticket to the Empire State Building and proceed to climb the bars and toss myself in a dramatic flurry of gayness. I will deliberately wear a pink ball gown and a tiara and maybe so much makeup and just go out in the most over the top and delightfully tacky way. That way when the family is questioning why I did it, and why the press felt the need to mock me, remember that they brought me to the brink of insanity. The guilt trip is getting on my nerves to the point where I am just about to take a break. Seriously. I mean w.t.f.? Has anyone out there in cyber land just wonder what the hell is the point of actually having family? Or for that matter...keeping them around?

Sure, maybe your ol' ma makes a killer sweet potato pie, or gandpapa has that wonderful smell of Old Spice that just brings back old memories of picking the petals off a daisy. He loves me, he loves me not! However dear reader, keep in mind your mother probably stole that recipe from Susan from down the street and that perfect little daisy was actually a living thing until you felt the need to destroy it. Ok, I understand that a lot of people actually love their families and they were actually just dandy, and I appreciate that. I do. However, I didn't have the Hallmark rim job that everyone longs for. So do I over compensate by holding onto the family that I have left and thereby putting up with more guilt trips, manipulation, dictation on the limits of our love, blatant disregard of my rights, and dismissal of my concerns just so I won't be alone AGAIN on Thanksgiving? Yes, I think I am.

Therefore I am trying my best not to start meowing at old ladies, and running around Central Park buck ass naked with nothing but a smile and couple of pasties. I actually ran about 6 miles today, through the woods of Prospect Park, up hills--down gravel paths. I am sure people were a bit alarmed when I took off full sprint through the picnic areas and grass noll. Here I am coming off a badly sprained ankle, and I am running full tilt like a mad man. This must be my version of cutting. Like a teenage girl that puts a razor blade to the inside of her leg. Jesus, what a mess.

Saw a kid passed out in a drunken stupor on the Brooklyn Bridge today. His fingers were burnt from the glass dick. He couldn't have been more than 19. I didn't stop. Neither did anyone else. Just kept on walking. Maybe that is what is bugging me today, really. I just don't have any reason to care. Sure I go do my best to volunteer. I am honestly trying. I am also trying to live. For once. I am not trying to survive damn it! I am trying to live! So why am I trying to live for everyone else and not for myself. Man, this living shit is hard to figure out, huh?