This is the worst entry that I have ever had to write.

This will also be the last entry I write at HCL.

On August 13th, the day before my 34th birthday - HERO ended his life.

As I slept, my dog Hope cuddling by my side, sickly-sweet smells of carbon monoxide filled my home. On the other side of my house, my black BMW sat idling in the dark pushing lethal gas into the garage and through an entry door to the house that wasn't up to code.

I keep wondering where the start of this story is: Was it the day I met HERO ? Was it the fight we had that night, standing outside my bedroom, just hours before? Or was it when HERO was five and after his Father left his Mother and she in turn took her own life in the same manner ?

The night before had been great - just last Tuesday. We had gathered at T's house with the boys to watch the Bravo line-up and pig out on snacks and desserts. Before hand I had hit the gym and while I showered, he groomed and we bantered back and forth. We were listening to Lucinda Williams and when I compared her to Bonnie Riatt, he commented how he had listened to her song "I Can't Make You Love Me" every day for the past two weeks. I let the comment pass - I was in a great mood. I've listened to that song probably 20 times since yesterday and the lyrics send a chill through my heart everytime. We had picked up a few bottles of wine and a white-chocolate cheesecake and a peanut-butter pie at AJ's before the shows. We had chided each other and spoken to a homeless woman in need of water. I teased him how easily he made new friends. I teased him in general, because I adored him and he was leaving to go back to college in a week for his last semester - and I didn't know how to say I loved him and I would miss him. He had been like a Mini-Dish-Water-Blond-Blue-Eyed-21-Year-Old-Tornado in my life these past three months - leaving my home in a constant revolving state of disarray and boyish home-making. I knew I yearned to have my house to myself again - but I knew it would seem half as big and twice as quiet as it seemed when he stood laughing in a room.

Something happened to me this summer, I found a relationship I had never forged before, what had started as a lover had become a little brother, even a son. He had become my family and I thought he was here to stay. I felt the type of love for him that I reserved for those that would become the strongest threads that I would weave into the tapestry of my life. Even after we broke up two weeks ago - I knew I loved him more than I could as a boyfriend. I was his protector. I wanted to protect him from everything bad - I never knew that I should have protected him from himself.

HERO had the tendency - as we all do - to be greatly affected by the excess consumption of alcohol. This night was not an exception, instead it was a clear example. It had appeared that, though quietly and respectfully, we had both moved on with our romantic lives. He had already had his first over-nighter - but regreted it badly the next day. He was still living in my house until school started, but he seemed ok - busily helping my friends plan for my birthday party and spending his days with Hope while I was work. He seemed like HERO. I never thought...I never knew. I had been holding back from him emotionally out of fear of confusing him with attention he might consider romantic. I hugged him rarely and had moved to just mussing his hair and half-hugs when I wanted him to know I still cared. I would kill to bear hug him now - I would squeeze and squeeze til he begged to be let go.. I kept any details about dates on the back-burner. When he asked questions, I gave information sparingly, hoping to avoid hurting him in any way. I would later realize, it was this lack of sharing - my confused sense of decency, that hurt him even worse. In the confines of my house, it was difficult - if not impossible - to have secrets.

As we drove home - he talked about our feelings - or more accurately he brought up that he didn't feel I was really comfortable around him anymore - that he had become a burden. I was taken aback. I tried to explain a poorly, executable logic - that when I really feel that close to another person - beyond a boyfriend - to the point of family - I found it difficult to show them constant physical affection - that I locked up. I went on to say I loved him very much, that I wanted to know him for the rest of my life. I should have said more. I should have told him how I looked forward to his graduation day, how I envisioned him bringing his boyfriends back down looking for my brotherly approval, how he would call me when needed advice or a laugh - I saw a future and he was part of it. I was attempting to shield him from post-break-up confusion - I had and would be even more so, unsuccessful.

I had made a phone call as we entered the house - BK, he and I talked and flirted and laughed, both a little drunk. As I circled my room telling BK stories about the evening I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Half hidden by the doorway, sitting in the dark - in my office, sat HERO on the floor. Listening. It was close to midnight when I ended my call, HERO came to my door and asked questions about BK, he asked questions about Me. I asked him why he considered it appropriate to eavesdrop on my conversations - I was feeling tinged with anger. He became upset, his voice stressed "I want to know you - your cutting me off - you don't let me in - you don't really love me". I explained I did, it was impossible to me to believe he didn't know that - why would I take him to San Diego, why would I still let him live in my home, why couldn't he believe it when I said it ? I was taking off my clothes to go to bed and he wouldn't budge. He began to disrobe - I asked him to stop. Please just hold me, he said - I need you - I need you to love me - I LOVE YOU - it's not going away - I don't know what to do. He began to cry and I told him I loved him, that we weren't meant to be, I hadn't wanted to hurt him - that I had known weeks before - we weren't meant to be. He said it would be easier for him if I hated him - he could get through this. I told him I would never hate him - he told me he would find a way to make me hate him, he kept saying he would find a way. It's hard to let go of certain words in the aftermath.

He followed me from room to room. My anger swelled. I began to lose my cool, I asked him how could I want to be with him when he pushed like this - harder and harder. I hate those words now, I hate the condescending tone I used. I begged him to let me sleep - he wanted this out now, and I wanted it over. I pushed him to the bedroom door and said goodnight, I want you to leave me alone now, I said - shutting the bedroom door.

I would have never thought of that moment; argumentative, but loving, insignificant - then unbearable - as the last time I would ever see HERO alive again. The police would later tell me that shutting the bedroom door had probably saved my life - and pulling my dog on to the bed instead of letting her sleep on the floor probably saved hers.

I don't remember if I dreamed that night. HOPE had woken me more then once and grogily I had fallen right back asleep. She was restless, she kept nudging me - I ignored her - I wanted to teach her to sleep through the night. The detective told me that her acute sense of smell was alarming her, she had been reacting nervously to something she didn't understand, something she smelled. I finally subcumbed to her nudging and got up at 5:45am to take her outside to pee.

Disoriented and half awake I pulled on only underwear and shuffled down the hall lit only by the grey-blue light of pre-dawn. I didn't have my contacts in, or my glasses on and the shape of the white comforter on the couch was enough to convince me that it was HERO sleeping there. I cut through the kitchen so HOPE wouldn't wake him. My head was pounding and I was very sleepy. As I opened the door to the backyard I remember wondering why HERO was doing laundry at such and odd hour - I had mistaken the drone of the engine for the rattle of the washer. I stood outside, dawn - not dark, not light surrounding me. Hope did number one and number two, I clapped half-heartedly as I felt I might fall back asleep - eyes closed while on my feet. When we came back in the house I noticed little things - my alarm clock had gone off (it must be 6am I thought) HERO's pillow was laying on the floor in the TV room, and the washer sounded funny. As I raced back to shut off my alarm clock I noticed the white comforter on the beige couch was empty - no sleeping HERO, just pillows and air. I felt nervous. Had he taken off over our fight ? I grabbed my glasses. I thought of my car - that sound, it's my car - what is he doing?

I got to the door that enters to the garage. A hold out from when the house must of had just a carport in the 50's, a white, wooden door with a window. It hadn't been to code the house inspector had said. I barely ever really thought of replacing it. There are some things that will stay with you forever, when I reached the door, when I say him lying just on the other side - I found one of those things. Panic rushed up, trying to pass the disorienting fugue brought on by the fumes - had he fallen? Ridiculously I actually thought for a moment - had he falling while doing laundry. I grabbed the unlocked door knob, but when I pushed it only went a few inches. Lying face down on the cement, garage floor, head akwardly to the side, his arm pinned under him - his feet were blocking the door. Hysteria rushed in. Logic rushed out.

I began to scream, I began to yell as far as the yell would travel..................NO, NO, NO.

I shoved and threw myself against the door. Tears streaming down my cheeks - my heart was pounding - the weak aortic valve was ripping - my heart was going to come undone. I lifted the window and smashed out the screen - waves of gas surrounded me. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed my phone. I climbed through the window and fell on HERO. He didn't move - he didn't scream, he did nothing. I hit the garage door opener. The fumes were making me dizzy, nauseous. Sunlight mixed with fumes. The garage was hot, oppressively hot. I grabbed the keys and turned of the ignition - dialing 911 at the same time. I was screaming - I hadn't stop screaming. The operator attempted to calm me down asking for my address - is he cold he said ?. I answered, NO - not thinking - he was hot, he had been baking. The operator asked me to roll him on his back. When I did I saw his eyes. Those beautiful grey-blue eyes - were nothing but a hazy white grey. I had passed to somewhere else by this point - somewhere outside of myself - maybe just a string connecting me and reality.

I attempted CPR.

I tried to hold on to that string.

I tried to save him.

I failed.

I yelled profanities. I cursed a god I don't believe in. I cursed HERO.

Why? WHY? Why ?

Curious neighbors came out to their lawns. The freak show had begun. First one cop car, then another, then another, then another. The cops watched me as they approached. The neighbors stared blankly. I sat in my underwear cradling HERO's dead body in my arms - and I still continued to scream.

Many moments came after that. Racing by, yet freezing for a horrific second to become amazingly clear - and then, racing on again. The cops sat me on my driveway. I sat huddled against a 2 ft brick fence - sobbing. They needed to know what happened, had we argued, what was my relationship to him, how long had he lived with me, were we homosexual, how do they reach his next of kin ? I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. This wasn't, this couldn't - really be happening. Tomorrow's my fucking birthday , I told one of the nervously pacing police officers - uncomfortable with the disclosure that we had been "more than friends" - HERO would have been 22 in just 6 days from that moment as well. At this moment - almost seeming triumphant - a cop came carrying out of the garage - the suicide note. I called my boss, I called T and C and BK....not able to make out what I was saying. They hopped in cars and raced to my home. The cops sat outside, already sweating at 630AM on a hot, Arizona summer morning while they strung up police line. The neighbors nervously went back to their lives, their sane, normal lives. The police opened all the windows in the house to air the carbon monoxide out of the house - you're lucky you're alive one said. At the moment I didn't feel alive - I felt hollow, sickenly empty and confused. The next hours involved detectives and questions, the arrival of my terrified friends and their tears. Hope ran from the police officers to my friends, unabashedly unaware that we weren't playing 'chase'.

The first days involved shock, crying, grieving, moving me temporarily to BK's, a constant flow, no - parade - of friends. And the phone rang and it rang, call after call, after call. Each call tearing at my soul, leaving me in a pile, unable to speak - unable to tell the full story. Only one thing seemed consistent to each day. The sense of loss, the feeling of hurt and the feeling that life had turned inside out. I came back to my house the next day - my birthday - only to pack his belongings. The next day I came back again to hand those same belongings to his devastated Aunt and Uncle and 8 month pregnant sister. We cancelled all the plans associated with my birthday and it seemingly came and went - except for the occassional painful and akward call from a family member or a friend - cut off half way through the 'birthday song' to be told the heart-breaking news.

The funeral came on Saturday, and then the Wake. I've just moved from one item to another - on the saddest checklist I've ever made. I've been drunk everyday but one. The Horrible Days, give way to Bad Days, and now a week later to just a sense of numbness.

There is so much more to talk about. So much else that has happened, but I'm tired, and I truly can never really remember feeling this tired before. Maybe it was when I read the suicide note asking me to " let him go", maybe it was the moment I found an entry from this site in HERO's car, maybe it's when I found letters written (but never given) to me detailing how he began to read this site against my wishes and had planned to continue to do so, maybe it's when I saw his best friend sobbing hysterically at the funeral - unable to return my gaze, maybe it's the first night I came back to sleep in my own home after 5 days away terrified to be in my home - the place he took his life, maybe it's when his father who abandoned him at 5 (gay himself and a meth addict) called me looking to connect with the man his son loved (yet he didn't even know was gay) - maybe it was any of these moments, none of these moments or ones I have even yet to comprehend - that I realized my life was forever changed.

HCL served a purpose for me at one time. I have grown alot as person sharing and learning about myself and my life here. Maybe after two years and almost 100,000 vistors - I want to live a more private life. I just don't have it in me anymore. There's so much else I need to work on now, so much more important stuff to do. Maybe in a year I'll come back - reinvented - with a softer approach.

Thank you for the times you've read me. Thank you for the emails, the laughs, the friendships, the calls, the pictures. I've made people think, I've made people laugh, I've made people angry and I hope I've made people care. I'll still read and email. I'll still care and learn.

For now though, I want to take care of me. I want to take my grief private and rebuild.

TO HERO (from my testimonial at his funeral):

You were my superhero,
not able to leap tall buildings
or fly through the night air.

But you had superhero powers
though less visible
that were always present...

You could light up a dark place
with your blue eyes and generous smile.
You could discern between "infer" and "imply"
(God knows I never could)

You could convince any world traveler
from any space on this weary earth,
that you had traveled to their country
and visited their sacred monuments,
to only respond, when asked:
Why no I've never been there
- in fact you had never left the country.

I wish you had seen your own smile
and watched it radiate in a room of boys.
I wish you were here to critique these words
and feign horror at my poor grammar.
I wish you had stayed around...
to travel
with your family
and your friends
and me -
to those far off places you knew so well
but had never been
or seen.

I love you and I miss you deeply.

Yep - truth is stranger than fiction.

Every life should have a little "Hope"


 

One entry found for codify.


Main Entry: cod·i·fy
Pronunciation: 'kä-d&-"fI, 'kO-
Function: transitive verb
Inflected Form(s): -fied; -fy·ing
Date: circa 1800
1 : to reduce to a code
2 a : SYSTEMATIZE b : CLASSIFY
- cod·i·fi·abil·i·ty /"kä-d&-"fI-&-'bi-l&-tE, "kO-/ noun
- cod·i·fi·ca·tion /-f&-'kA-sh&n/ noun

Oh Yeah - Well FUCK you !!

Marriage is such a "HOLY" thing - that's why divorce is more prevelant then cargo pants, we suggest "tax credits" to "welfare mothers" to push them to marry, we televise "proposals based on competition" (Bachelor/Bachelorette), "marriage based on national audience participation" ( Married by America), and vie on the Today Show to chat with Katie Couric and have every moment of our special "holy" day planned by a morning show.

I HATE the FUCKING Church - have always hated the fucking church - and am so sick of the right-wing, religious front, conservative sect of out nation and our world - squirming at even a hint of our acceptance. When is the last time you heard of the homosexual community being linked to genocide, starvation, civil liberties abuse, execution, terrorism or hell even Weapons of Mass Destruction (though admittedly I have met a guy or two who really - really might be in the running) ?

The Church needs to see the true enemy - it's easy, just hold the mirror up to your pious face.

and if there is a God - I only have one question: "TOP or BOTTOM" ?

...and so it can be.

I looked at him, in many ways as I had so many times, yet - as if I never had before.

I had done it, I had sat through dinner and conversation with Lucky - and even at points enjoyed it. He could see it, I could tell.

I was genuinely happier, stronger, more optimistic to embrace a future that once frightened me.

He went to mention at the end that he knew. He had heard there was someone else and he was happy for me. It felt forced on his part - which made it easier to tell him - that, honestly, there wasn't . I didn't need to tell him that I officially had ended it with HERO on Sunday morning, I didn't need to tell him tonight - peacefully I would sleep alone in my bed for the first time in 5 weeks - I only "wanted" to tell him that my happiness was emanating from me - not from or because of another.

As we sat at the wine bistro, it had begun, finally Arizona was about to get it's first true monsoon.

The wind whipped
trees fell folly
and the rain poured down - unafraid of either.

I looked at Lucky and I said, "Can we do one last thing?"

When he questioned what, I asked:

"Can we just walk out in to this storm - that rain - and can we just let it wash all of this away...can we just start fresh as friends ?"

We didn't make it a foot out the door and it drenched us - fashion gone to hell, bygones - just gone and we both laughed gleefully at how clean, how real, how beautiful it felt. I made him walk with me to my car and I gave him a song by East Mountain South about letting go and moving on:

"You only have to listen to it once", I said - "...but, please - listen to it now"

I climbed into my car, and through sheets of rain - I watched my past walk away.

...taking HERO to San Diego Pride, be back Monday. Y'all have a great weekend.

The worst thing about an honest question is meeting it with an honest answer.

Often enough, because the solitary moment (s) that follow will be painful.

I made HERO cry last night.

I suppose I should follow the logic that I can’t make anyone feel or do anything, but in my response to his question, I gave HERO a “reason” to cry.

Intoxicated and somewhat brash, he asked me if I thought I eventually would fall in love with him, or even now when I reflect on it – maybe – it was rhetorical and the question was stated more like “You’re not going to fall in love with me – are you ?”

It’s seems embarrassing that I can’t remember the sequence those nine or ten little words were stated in.

With my head cocked to the side and my eyes drifting to the street – I told him I knew I wasn’t going to fall in love with him. That somewhere last week, my mind met that street and crossed it, and now I was on the other side looking back.

He didn’t hold back.

He let it all out.

I held him in my arms as his shoulders heaved, his body sighed and he sobbed.

Howard Dean asks 16 questions, seems like he could have extended it to 116 - but then again George's attention span isn't that encompassing (and if there's a pretty ball of yarn around - expect him to answer no more than two questions)

Don'tcha hate it when some scandal erupts between your friends and your the one key person that everyone else feels comfortable divulging all the "true facts" too. Of course your sworn to secrecy by each individual party and you of course you live up to that - but everytime your cell rings you have to keep clicking back and forth between the relevant parties.

Where is Mary J. Blige to sing "No More Drama" ???

Ok - I've been quiet this past week, which as always means somethings up.

HERO kinda pulled a stunt last week that I've tried to move past - but in all I think made me realize though he's a wonderful, wonderful guy - he's got so much to learn about being in a relationship and I'm not sure I really feel like being his testing ground. Now I might have forgotten to mention another hitch to this story - um, see HERO really didn't have any place in Phoenix to stay during his summer break from college so I've been letting him live with me. Ok - not my smartest decision - I swear at the time it seemed like a really kind gesture and I figured he would be really busy with other things so it wouldn't feel like he was in my hair. Um, I was wrong. He's in my hair, my sink, my closets, my bathroom, my shoes, my bed - he's, uh - everywhere, every minute of every day. He means well, he really does - but I like living alone and though I adore him - he just seems like a lil 21 year old Tornado in my house. Anyway - I offered to let him stay the summer and I'm gonna live up to my word - he's done some stupid stuff that has made me realize this doesn't really have a future - but he's done nothing to deserve not being treated well and with respect.

...and well there's been some other interesting developments as well, but I'll save those for another time.

.... all is well. HERO and I had a really good conversation on Friday afternoon - where instead of silence or holding back - I really explained how embarrassing the situation had been for me and how afterwards I lashed out merely out of personal insecurity and a need to regain some measure of control. When he looks in my eyes and speaks to me - I can see nestled among the crisp, ice blue flares that encircle his eyes - his love for me (a word that hasn't been used between us since that night).

It was unusual for me to communicate so freely outside of this blog, but I approached it with the same humor and humility that I approached that entry.

I'm falling very hard for this young man.

Thanks to all, for some very insightful and humourous responses.

BTW - if you haven't seen SPELLBOUND, the Academy-Award Nominated Documentary on the 1999 Scripps Howard National Spelling Bee and the path it took eight of it's adolescent contestants from varying social and economic backgrounds to get there....PLEASE do. It will do more for your sense of human spirit then watching 'Legally Blonde Two" could ever do.

I think HERO and I had our first fight last night.

Well not really a fight - more like a "moment".

Not like a sexy moment - though it did happen during sex.

We'd been going at it for awhile and it was all hot and fun at first, but it was late and I was tired and we'd been drinking and I have to admit - and I hate to admit this - but I just wanted him to come already. Have I mentioned, er, uh - he's 21.

Yeah, didn't think so.

Well I've never really worried about my sexual prowness but when your with someone whose all for getting it every single night (and day) - you start to get well, a little insecure. He scoffed when he heard me reference the little blue pill one night - so I've been doing all these performances "au naturale" and I got admit I'm showing a little wear-n-tear. I know it sounds more studly to say I'm an inhuman fuck machine who fucks 24-7-365, no matter sleet, snow, or economic downturns - but hey, I'm gonna be 34 in a month, I work my ass off all week long - come midnight on a work week, after a few drinks - I gotta admit my thought turns to snoozing - not snogging (that means fucking in some slang way - I'm sure of it).

So my mind starts to reel while I'm fucking him, how much longer can I keep this up ? When's my boy gonna cum already - and, um well this dizzying array of self-questioning takes my mind and too many blood cells off the task intended. Well uh, you know. Anyway moment stops - I take him back from the TV room where I had been fucking him over a chair and we go to my bedroom. Happily, he hops on and it's going fine, but now my mind is on what just happened back on the chair: "shit! shit! shit!". I'm wondering what he's thinking, suddenly I'm really feeling the age gap, my heads racing - so much so that, well, um - you know. So in my head I'm getting all defensive and angry and shit - why they fuck are we up this late? why do I feel so much pressure to perform evey night ? - and all the time I'm thinking "oh shit - it's finally happening - it's the first to go".

So HERO is playing it cool, probably thinking it's the booze - or maybe thinking it's not the booze - but thinking I better think he's thinking it's the booze. So I want to shoot myself in the head and I'm still kissing him and playing with his ass and trying to keep things hot (insert here: KILL ME) and I whisper in his ear "I wanna see you cum baby" and he tells me "no" - he wants to see me cum first. I'm thinking fucker - have you been in this room for the past ten minutes ??

So now I'm starting to feel like a show pony - an OLD, ON HIS WAY OUT TO THE PASTURE - show pony. I ask again "Come on baby - I'll cum after YOU, I wanna see you shoot that load". He says "no" again. Tells me he's happy to just be in bed with me and if we aren't BOTH gonna cum then he doesn't want to cum. (insert here: shoot the fucking show-pony now - PU IT OUT OF IT'S MISERY).

So I sigh and get up and go in the other room and wipe off. We take a shower together and I kinda let in to him - about anything:

It's immature to think that a guy doesn't have the right to just get his lover off,

That he'll be a lot wiser when he's older,

That I'm feeling a lot of pressure to put out every night

That he never makes my bed right (um, yeah - I seriously used that one)

...AND the whole time I'm thinking "Oh SHIT - I've lost it".

So, er, uh - what did you do last night ?

Sexier then Demi Moore (have you seen him in a Versace Thong !!!!) , more powerful then Terminator (actually I think Maria Shriver could take him in an arm wrestling match - unless it was over a sale item at Barneys) and as adorable as that little fish in Nemo (but so much tastier with a little garlic butter and lemon).........

He's back.

Yes, I had a great time in LB. Met tons of new people and even made a stop at the Abbey in LA on the way up. More drinking though then even I was used to (think 9am - uh, well to 6am) - that with a ton of sun from West Beach and I was fairly under the weather come Sunday night. HERO looked after me with an ALOE VERA back-rub and some much needed cuddling.

Back to a hectic work life and for some reason sleeping dreadfully. Tons of nightmares (think 28 Days Later and it's all you can dream about no matter how many times you wake up).

I finally watched "Circuit" last night (I know, I know - I take forever to get in the loop - Hey BTW what's this new musical CATS that all the kids are talking about ??). I have to admit I never expected it to have such an effect on me. I suppose as a party-boy retiree (or is that "escapee") - I had a hard time seeing the gross reality to alot of it. Waking up in a bathroom stall - a little lost on what happened the night before (though you so know the bouncers of Crowbar or any other major city club would have you on the curb within 15 minutes of falling out). I got upset enough that at the end of the movie I went to the other room to cry so HERO wouldn't see. I'm not sure what it really was. In reflection this morning, maybe just the fact that I should be dead. With at least 3 pretty dramatic fall-outs on GHB to my name - I am, and was lucky. Maybe it's all the times I thought I appeared 'together' at a bar, but between a bevy of "beers and bumps" was so far inside myself nothing I must have mumbled must have made sense. Maybe it's shame. Shame that I probably knew how bad I was getting and didn't really care if I just got worse. Shame that I must have hated myself so much - that feeling anything but who I was - was worth the close to $1,400 a month habit at it's peak. How did just taking a hit of ecstacy 4 years ago on New Years Eve become a habit ? And what of my desire to still do drugs. I haven't stopped. Not cold turkey. I don't buy anymore and I have distance myself from those influences - but if I'm drunk and it's offered to me by a friend or admirer - well sure. I still find myself craving the warm feeling, the distance from my problems, the lack of inhibition.

This weekend I partied.
There was coke,
there was pot,
there was ecstacy,
a bump of tina.

But like the lead actor in the film, how easy would it be to get pulled back in ?

I'm a much stronger person then I was after all the personal blows last year. I won't add a question mark to that sentence: I know and believe this to be true. I have conquered, even slain, many of my personal demons.

But what of the feelings that made me crave drugs - are they stronger then the experiences that tell me not to go back down the path? I should make mention that HERO doesn't do drugs - at all. It's not that he's stopped, it's that he never started. I had to keep pausing and explaining lingo and scenes throughout the film : that's a bullet honey, no-no he's smoking crystal now, oh actually that's just coke. In his sweet farm-boy way he asked what their like and I found myself cutting short the explanantions as I found myself wanting to not just describe them, but do them with him. To feel him under me - fucking away on G. To dance to Tony Moran with him in my arms each of us in a K-Hole. To get tweaked out of our brains when we can't take a step further when the clock hit 8am on a Sunday morning at a circuit party - to only find ourselves able to go another 6 hours.

I wanted to corrupt him. I wanted to show him the darker side of things - the sexy under belly if you will. Then I thought of that night - that magical night with Lucky at the Sony Pavaillion in SFO for Mondo Millenium New Years Eve 2000. It was gonna be just a hit and then ok maybe just a bump - but I'll never do 'G' or 'Tina'. Four months later at White Party we did 'Tina' - just a bit - we didn't want to miss the next party - we were up for three days. Six months after that standing at La Cage with the only hot couple in Milwaukee, sure "OK - I'll try G"...and it was good and I found I didn't want to be in a club (or a bathouse) without it. And then last summer, I could find any of them in my house at a given time: Coke, Crystal, Ecstacy, G. I would lie to my boyfriend about whatever I was on - knowing I wasn't allowed to do G - claiming I was slipped a mickey when I fell out on Halloween. Once I convinced my ex to go to couples counseling after a few bumps of K - it would open us up I said. There were good times on drugs - to many of them. Walking home in the snow with my buddies, after a bar, as the sun rose over the Chicago skyline - rolling, laughing, my body so alive. Hearing Lucky say I love you for the first time on the dance floor - Lighthouse Family singing in the background "You and me will be - together for enternity - together we wil be so Hiiiigggghh" . 'Kitty Vision' at a friends house for movie night friends and bumpers. They were great times.

And now I feel like I've shut the door on them...

and it's harder to feel those things

- that way

- again.

 

HERO's coming down from Flagstaff tonight so I'm planning a romantic night at my favorite wine bar and italian restaurant. To be followed of course by a lot of hot sex. No - I'm not tossing out the "L" word yet and won't for quite awhile - though I have agreed to keep my dick in my pants this weekend in Laguna Beach with C. and T. for the 4th of July.

Have a great 4th - I'll write upon my return.

...with his grey-blue eyes framed by tears, HERO turned, trembling and looked at me and said the words:

I'm in love with you.

There. It's been done. No going back now.

It was late, there had been a lot drinking, pool party, birthday party, drinks with friends.

I would feel a sudden nervousness, a pang of anxiety when he would go off to the bathroom or when he was out of my sight. A sense of loss when his hand wasn't holding mine.

I had been getting cajoled by my friends all day long about his age, his sweetness. They all accepted him, adored him even. He could win anyone over with his slowed-down, casual, Midwestern drawl and unconcious, inquisitiveness.

I had spent the day protesting.

No it wasn't getting too serious, No we're not boyfriends we're just dating

But - my friends watched me like I was something behind glass and they were studying me as I said these things. I'm not a lier - they know that, just like they knew that maybe I wasn't even convincing myself.

So now at the end of the night - heading back to my place for sex and sleep, he began to cry and he said the words.

Funny - I don't even know if I said thanks.

...less blogging lately and much more living.

It's frightening to write these words, but there is a major reason for my absence and it's a boy. I've gone on dates with a lot of terrific guys since Lucky and I broke up and nothing compares to the time I spend with this guy. I'm calling him HERO, maybe because of how he acts or maybe because he's making me believe in something that I thought I might give up on.

There so many things I want to write about him that I just don't dare, not yet - when it's all so new.

...but most importantly - he makes me laugh, and smile...and think.

I'll tell you more soon I'm sure.

The last 48 hours have involved unbelievably fun, mucho, mucho caliente sex. I haven't put in peformances like these in years - I feel like I just ran the Boston Marathon. My lips feel like they have razor burn - my special visitor will be spending the night again on Saturday after Big C's bday extravaganza. Tonight out to dinner with all the boyz to kick off C's bday (I got him a tattoo for his birthday).....really need to write, but honestly right now I'm more into just having fun in the real world. ciao.

great, great weekend....will post some pics tomorrow.

Best friend V. came in town last night - here through tomorrow - so having a blast having the house guest.

....I'll get back into the swing of things later this week..... have a special lil visitor coming down from Flagstaff to see me tomorrow night (yeah - sex)

off to Pride in the Pines - Flagstaff....

Beer, Boyz, Friends, Beer, Boyz, Dancing, Beer, Boyz

I think I could use that.

Plus I rented a sexy black t-bird convertible to drive up to the mountains.

Have some fun this weekend.

Question: If pretty, young, Uber-Entrepreneurs, Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen were to be pitted in a Celebrity Death Match against everyones favorite "Glitteratti" siblings Paris and Nikki Hilton - who would win ?

I've done a lot of crying over the past 48 hours, after reading this (from an email from Lucky I received tonight) I just started again....

I love you, I always have loved you and I know I always will love you. You are the man I want to spend the rest of my life with and I have no doubts that I will. It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but that day will come. Even if the years go by ..... I believe that our lives will come together again!

it hurts to love what you can't possess.

I got my response. I am still loved, and even more so - my motivations and feelings are understood.

That's all one can really hope for I suppose.

From : "Kurt XXXXXXXX"
To : XXXXXXXXX@hotmail.com

Subject : Re: room assignments

Date : Tue, 10 Jun 2003 16:51:20 +0000


CT,

Bud....Lucky and I talked at length yesterday, and in all - the effect was pretty devastating for me. I cried pretty much the whole time and was shot for the rest of the day ending up in my bed at 6pm listening to Sarah McLachlan. There wasn't hate or malice - worse, there was a lot of unresolved love on both sides, in a way that hurt even more. We left the past out and the hurts, but you could feel them hiding behind words wanting their chance. I wanted to tell myself I could do this - maybe if it was just one night - but not a whole week. It's inconceivable. This is our third break-up in three and half years - I always find myself drawn back in - the only healthy remedy to date for me has been distance and silence. Please think back to your experiences with XXX and remember what its like to get the sweats, the naseau and the dizziness at the prospect of having to be in a room with him. Imagine the anger, hate and resentment that would swell up, even when you thought you had moved on...I know you can relate to these feelings.

CT - I'm not ready. I am not a selfish person, I try to put others first - I love and adore you with everything in me. But the stress and tension that the presence of Lucky and I on the vacation would taint the entire thing. No - I don't want to have to look at the pictures afterwards and imagine the wonderful time everyone had without me - but even worse would be to see the looks on everyones faces as we (or I) ruin everyones fun - when I deck some guy Lucky kisses. I hope enough of the things I have said and done in our beautiful friendship over the past few years is enough to outweigh how slighted you may feel by this action. I know what this means to you, I have been vascilating back and forth for months - after yesterday I realized what a personal setback this would be to the progress I have made of getting back on my feet.

You know I have a huge heart - no matter how tough I profess to be. Lucky is the one man in the world who can truly harm that heart - I'm not strong enough yet to fight that.

I love you with everything in me. I understand you may not be happy with me for awhile. I will taste those slings and arrows if they come (dramatic phrase, huh?), but I will stand by - as your friend - ready when your able to forgive me.

I'm sorry.

All my love and friendship.

Kurt

Sarah McLachlan
Surfacing (1997)
Do What You Have To Do

What ravages of spirit
conjured this temptuous rage
created you a monster
broken by the rules of love
and fate has led you through it
you do what you have to do
and fate has led you through it
you do what you have to do ...
And I have the sense to recognize that
I don't know how to let you go
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
but I have the sense to recognize
That I don't know how
to let you go
I don't know how
to let you go
A glowing ember
burning hot
burning slow
deep within I'm shaken by the violence
of existing for only you
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
and I have sense to recognize but
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go

it's been a bad, bad day. I'm emotionally wiped out.

Blogger going downhill (scenes from Laguna Beach)....







More Misbehavin'

Worth a bit of pain. I fucking love, LOVE my new tatt (an enlargement of the old tatt)....the fire and sun is burning bigger, better and bolder - hmmm, I think it means something, eh ?



 

 

.....so I was being nice and mellow at home waiting to check out the adorable Seann William Scott (damn that boy is looking fine - please tell me he was bending JT over backstage) when one of my friends decides to go off on me (actually let's call him "ex" friend) - I can't even remember the last time I've ever had a friend get mad at me - I think I was 28 or something - and unlike this - that was merited. So T. and C. call and want me to meet for drinks and I cancel the night at home since I start bouncing off walls when my ire is up. Well a very good time indeed later. I get home - and crash.

But oops - I forgot something.

Upon waking this morning I noticed I had stripped down in front of my computer last night - boots, FCUK jeans, "Soul Rebel" t-shirt, a box of half-eaten Snyder Hard Pretzels laying on the floor - and then like Donkey Kong with a hammer - it hits me.

I sent a drunken email.

Not just any email.

Not just to any person.

To the Ex.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

He had been at my gym last night. We didn't speak. I held my cool and did my full work-out. I maintained the same distance I have for over three months of silence.

I'm not even really sure what I said - but I guarantee that spelling, grammar and punctuation were not present.

The jist. Oh damn - this is weak. I swear I have done nothing psycho like this the whole time - and well it wasn't psycho - it was human.

It went something like this:

It hurt like hell to see you at the gym tonight. I fucking hate you sometimes, but the reality is - you'd be a fool not to know I will always fucking love you.

I'm think it went like that.

I probably used the "F" bomb a lot more though.

"Maybe"
- Allison Krauss and Union Station
(Gordon Kennedy/Phil Madeira)

Yesterday the odds were stacked
In favor of my expectations
Flyin' above the rest
Never fallin' from the nest
Tuesday came and went and now
I'm in a little situation
Maybe it's for the best
I can live alone, I guess

Maybe I can stand alone
Maybe I'm strong as stone
Even though the bird has flown
Maybe he'll fly on home

Forgive me if I'm keeping you
Apart from better conversation
Hung up on all my doubt
Trying to sort the whole thing out
Tell me that I'm smart enough
To deal with all the information
Spinning inside my head
Every word he ever said

Maybe I can stand alone
Maybe I'm strong as stone
Even though the bird has flown
Maybe he'll fly on home

Maybe I can stand alone
Maybe I'm strong as stone
Even though the bird has flown
Maybe he'll fly on home

I keep mullling these words over:

Be careful what you ask for

I would say "wish" but I gave up wishing a long time ago. The weekend was wonderful at the moments it wasn't meant to be and soul searching at all the wrong times. ASA (aka "The Brazilian") proved that nothing is what you hope it to be - he'll be gone by the next phone call. My wonderful, wonderful friends showed up in Laguna and made Saturday the night to remember. Not even sure where the Brazilian was half the night - but my friends - not even supposed to be there - were there. When I mentioned to C. how wonderful it was to be out of town and there with he and T. and M. - he smiled that smile that breaks all the other boys hearts (seriously) and said

"Baby - we all only came here to be with you"

- and you know what, he meant it.

The capper was when three other Phoenix boys ended up at the same exclusive (I know - whatever) birthday party at the Boom-Boom Room. One - never close to me - but knowing me for years made a statement earlier on the balcony of my friends hotel room -

"This is the nicest I've ever seen you"

- I was pretty pissed at the time. I called him on it later and he looked at me and said

"You misunderstood me - I wasn't slamming you - I think it's great this is the happiest I've ever seen you, the most accessible - it's like some dark cloud that's been over you - some weight or burden - was lifted and you can just tell how much better you feel - you can physically see it".

Funny. I never saw this comment coming - and once again, I believe he meant it. Suddenly whatever I am putting out is bringing back such honesty from people. I know I don't want to date, not at all, I needed to before - something was driving me - some sense that I had to have people after me so Lucky knew what he lost. In my heart I had the misconception that if I could truly make him feel - feel the way I did all that time, that he was my great love - for just one moment - I could take that from him and use it to cancel out my feelings - use it to put us on equal footing.

But you know what ?

Lucky never knew what he had. How am i after three and half years gonna teach him something he couldn't learn waking up next to me every morning. I'm still living for him, I'm still wondering and worse - caring - what he thinks of me, of us. I got it all wrong. The only one who needs to know he's on the short end of the stick is me.

I can't shake the feeling that something is happening: evolution, growth, healing.

Can you feel it to ?

uh - you so know you're sexually-harrassing me while I'm at work...

please don't stop.

Heeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeee, Piggy-Piggy - here.........................

Life is an endless series of kicks in the ass.

It seems nary a week goes by (did I just the word "nary" ??) that there doesn't seem to be something that makes you stop and think:

"It's just not supposed to make sense is it ?"

Exchanging emails with you today - I felt a subtle deflation of some of the idea's I had breathed air into.

Then I had a conversation with a close friend (Tp).

We had met three years ago at Crowbar- he didn't know me yet, but knew Lucky from the gym. He obviously had a crush and didn't realize when he came up to give Lucky too friendly a hug. That he was next gonna meet me - the boyfriend. I was quick to move to protective boyfriend mode and I'm gonna bash your head in if you lay a paw on him again buddy veneer. He spent the night - not approaching Lucky, but approaching me. Apologetic, and respectful of how much I cared for my boyfriend. A week later - I let him work in on a couple chest sets with me at the gym. We talked : about film (Lynch, Almodovar, Besson, Cronenberg), we talked about art and poetry, architecture and form, we talked about advertising and design, sports and enthusiasms - we talked. He was several years younger and so amazingly unique. Almost ashamed to be attractive he hid behind a shaved head and black framed glasses. He exuded eccentricity and charm in a single breath. In short we became friends - and mutual admirers. In the end - my boyfriend made it clear that the boy who used to have a crush on him - had become too uncomfortably fond of me for his tastes.

Slowly I pushed Tp out of my circle and distanced myself from him - and lost him pretty much altogether. So for the past year there have been a few uncomfortable hello's at parties - Lucky staring him down, me shuffling me feet. I handled this wrong, but we do that - sometimes the one's we brag about we handle effortlessly, and then there are the other ones - we just let slip away. So Sunday night I run into Tp - me giddy and drunk and flirting and having a blast (repeatedly using conjunctions) with my friends and I smack right into Tp. The thing about true friendship - even when it's be severed, soiled or stalled - if it's real, you still know how to read each other. Tp - a huge outdoor enthusiast had been rock climbing the day before with 3 others when his rock-climbing partner had fallen 100 feet. He was in a coma. Everything brushed off of us - any hurt, any confusion - and I held him in the middle of the bar as other patrons shuffled around us - he crying in my arms. Monday, Tp called - they had declared his friend brain dead - he told me he needed me, how much it meant to him that I had been there at that exact moment that he needed me. Tuesday, they pulled the plug. He was only 29. Tonight after the gym Tp and I are going to talk, and though it doesn't need to be said I'm going to apologize that I let him down.

And I think I'll reflect on how much I've lived between 29 and 33, and no matter how rough some of the parts were and how great some of the others were - I lived them.

Life's such a kick in the ass.

"Oh darling" she cajoled, "but you look wonderful in drama".

My head is kinda all over the place this past weekend. Maybe it's the heat, both outside - and unfortunately due to a fried compressor, inside my house.
I think - especially for those of us who have been through a plentitude of scorching, southwest summers - that we develop our own version of winter's S.A.D (Seasonal Attitude Disorder - or is it "Depression") - anyway, your patience grows thin in these summer months and your energy level falls to nil.

I want out of here. I want to forget about the house, my career and leave my memories of Lucky behind.

I've worked alot on myself over the past 9 months (yes, "therapy" dears) - I had been walking around with a lot of anger, even more self-loathing and an even less healthy contol over my vices. I'm no perfect angel - and I wasn't out to change into one. I like that I'm a bit of a pig, that I'm sexually-charged, that I like to have fun, that I like to tear my guts out and put them on paper to learn more about myself - that's just part of who I am. But who I have also always been is a "conditional" - I'm creating this label so bear with me. Children who experience mental, physical and sexual abuse (general statement) learn to survey, judge and react to "conditions" - we are conditional. When I saw my drunken mother walk in the room clenching her hands, screaming obscenities - I watched for clues on what was going to happen to me next - and more importantly what I would need to do to survive the moment, when my father would go to strike me - I weighed my chances, I weighed the conditions - was I big enough yet to strike back - and if I failed - could I escape ? When I was alone in a car with a man as old as my father, and he took my 12 year-old dick in his hands - I considered my options - how far am I from help, what will he do when he's done, am I here because I deserved it ?

I had it imprinted, embossed, engraved, tattoed, seared in to my mind and flesh, my soul and instinct - I must read the conditions that others present, react and judge - to survive. In the end - I changed too often, tried to many times to predict the outcome and always waited for the other shoe to drop. I fall for the people who are hard for me to read and give few clues to how they feel about me. Why ? I don't really know. Perhaps, I feel more challenged. Perhaps, I feel more at home with them. Perhaps, I didn't (there's and optimal word here folks - watch, not I "DO" - but "I didn't") think I deserved to be with someone who could express their love to me in a healthy and everyday fashion. I no longer accept "scraps" for love - in the next relationship I will "expect" a filet - and perhaps a nice cabernet as well.

I have been to this point - "conditional".

It's served me well dodging slings and arrows professionally - but I've waited on pins and needles for changes in others - waiting to react - and I've learned that others rarely change. There's so much more thinking that goes in to the foundation of my thoughts on this - but let's face it - your neither being paid to listen to me ramble or looking to read a disertation - based on gut instincts.

I went to the movies with Chris (formerly of Encorswish fame) on Saturday to see Matrix. How, HOW ? do you make fight scenes so long that the viewer aches for more dreadful dialogue about causality, choice and cock (ok, I threw the last one in - but I had to think about something during the boring parts). When we came out to my car there was a simple yellow post-it note placed underneath my windshield wiper. it read:

"Hi ! - Lucky"

Though feet away, heading to his own car - Chris saw me lock up.

I then noticed Lucky's SUV sitting next to my car. Can staring at a car actually hurt? I haven't seen his face since the infamous "Day of the Dog" - what has it been two, almost three months ? I wondered who he was attending a movie with ? Which movie ? Was it a date ? Would they hold hands and brush knees ? Would they go home and make love and nap the Sunday afternoon away - as we used to do ? It was truly maddening. Each day my heart makes baby-steps back to normalcy - and then these moments come. But the worst part of this moment was - as I drove home, I felt love for him, I felt how much I missed him, I felt how much loss there had been. I cringed - this was worse then the hate - it was remorse. I don't want him back, but I do understand his hold over me. After two break-ups, I know given time - I'll miss him, I'll believe he can change and bam - there goes another year til the next break-up. Am I really this fucking stupid ? I'm still not ready to see him - I've decided to cancel P-Town. It makes no sense. I can't fly a five hour flight alone with a man I can't even look at - I can't spend 8 days in P-Town with my ex by my side - no matter how many other friends are going.

I'm not ready.

And that's ok. I know how to react to this one - I've read and reread the conditions before.

Time is the only healer, and I still need more.

the weekend of warmth - heat's up.

I can now say with all honesty and C. as a witness that I have flirted with and been flirted with by a MLB Player. Ddidn't hurt that our seats for the game DBacks/Padres (pathetic game to boot) were lower level dugout seats (think home plate, crotch level, front row) - cute, cute, cute. Something about playing smiles, eye-hockey and playful banter with a guy and then hearing the crack of the bat as he sends it to left field and gets to second. Shame he was on the opposing team. And no for reasons of defammation lawsuits, etc. I think I'll not mention names.

Went out to Roscoes with C. and K. Ohhhh K. (formerly know as "I think I've met the hottest man I've ever met") - makes my heart do sommersalts. Immediately came up and laid a deep kiss and a bear hug on me - which made me feel pretty good considering how many men were ooogling him. C. 's new beau W. showed up and - damn - no wonder he says he makes him shake when he looks at him. Anyway one of those vapid, high school feelings - but as we all stood together horsing around and K. kept grabbing kisses from me and telling me sweet things - you couldn't help but enjoy a moment of being - I don't know, caught up in it all.

Came home to a very, very warm house - alone. K. had to work early and C. & W. had magic to make before C. passed out from all the drinking he had done. ASA called at 3am, I think I promised to call last night and forgot. I was actually in bed by midnight with only 4 beers in my belly and feeling a lil confused and giddy by all the attention from K. and some of the things he said. Next weekend I'll be seeing ASA and maybe that will give me more clarity to whatever there is between us. Oh and to keep this complicated ramble going J of the EE left a card on my door on Thursday night that he needed to go his own way since it had become honest that my feelings weren't the same for him. The card actually meant a lot to me and I thought it took total balls to write it. I left him a message saying such and that if he needed or wanted my friendship I would feel lucky to offer it to him.

Oh and there's been other interesting things happening as well that a few of you clever detectives know about.

What a weird - yet exciting summer this is starting out to be.

...so how's your holiday weekend goin' ??

Good, Good.

Mine ??

Oh - well let's see it's about 157 degrees outside and my air conditioning blew last night while I was sleeping.

That's cool - they can have someone here by Tuesday.

Ice cubes anyone ??

...the thing you DON'T have to know about me is ....

( see I hate that other phrase - "the thing you HAVE to know about me is ..." , I mean HEY - I don't have to know ANYTHING about you, and I mean if I want to - really, really mean to - then you should say - "the thing it would be nice if you wanted to learn about me is" - anyway, end of internal discussion...)

...when I'm quiet, somethings up.

And something is up and I don't really think I should talk about it til at least - I - understand what it means better.

Things here at HCL are good, but very stressful due to a mound of hospital/doctor bills. Hope to have insurance by the start of June - and yes - I am quite aware that I can't believe I let this (they let this) happen. Consider me the case book example for the insurance salesman to generate fear in would be customers why never NEVER let your health insurance lapse no matter how healthy you are.

I'm actually staying in AZ for Memorial Weekend. I have tons of work to do and financials need to be to the CPA by next week and then to the bank by the first. It's gonna be tricky, and the boss is off for a week and half on the east coast.

Long Beach was really wonderful. And I can't say enough how much I enjoyed meeting and hanging for the third time - the Bear-Bait Dream Boat. Honestly one of these times I would love to lose the crowd and actually just talk to you. I spied another blogger as well - but he was lip-locked and I hate to interrupt someone when their getting some lovely. I only went to two of the parties since I wasn't really partying, and for the most part I was conservative in my behavior.

Next trip Laguna Beach the weekend after this - I know, I know.

On my way to Long Beach Pride. It's topping 100 degrees here today - so good time to get out of town. Looking to terrorize Silverlake tonight with one of my longest standing buddies - M. The Adorable South American (ASA) is going to be in LB as well this weekend. Looks like he'll have dinner with me and my friends on Saturday and then we're all going to do the Tony Moran party on the Queen Mary - neath the stars. Last weekend of fun for a month, need to get back and start thinking life/health/mental plans for the long term.

Have a terrific weekend.

Oh and BTW - I spaced on saying that today this lil blog of mine turned TWO years old. I'm a bad dad.

Happy Birthday. See how it started. I was kinda lame.

Matters of the Heart

For all the times I've wondered if I even still have a heart - at least the $4,000 or so in testing I've had in the past week proves I have one - though it appears to be a little troubled. The good news is I'm good, I'm fine - the bad news is (and really in the right light it's good news because now I know) something did come up in all the testing.

What came up is called "Bicuspid Aortic Valve" - an irregularity to the valve that pumps blood out of the heart to the aorta. Normal people have three cuts in their valve at the opening that allow the entire opening to press open as blood flows out of the heart. I have a single cut that divides the smaller opening into two leaflets. This heart condition affects 1 - 2 percent of the population. It's not gonna kill me - but as I grow older it may lead to difficulties that may result in my needing heart surgery. As for now the biggest inconviences are dental visits and surgery - apparently this condition leaves me at a high risk for a bacteria infection called "endocartis" - the risk of this infection is that it can go undetected until it causes one of several fairly severe even deadly results from blod clot to heart failure. For now on I need to take antibiotics before and after a dentist visit or any other invasive procedure. In the meanwhile I have to start reconsidering the way I lead my life: booze, drugs/stimulants, caffine, over-exercising and supplements are all no-no's. Will I go cold turkey ??? Come on - it's me here, but once again I can't shake the feeling I'm being warned and given a chance to shape up a bit. Of course - I really, really could have dealt without this warning considering I don't have health coverage right now - yesterday's visit alone cost me $1,200 and the cardiologist wants a follow-up exam in 30 days. Suppose I'll save alot of money on booze, drugs and supplements - guess I can use that to cover the ER bill when that shows up.

Oh well - I'm oddly like - "ok, well deal with it - it's way better then it is worse"

As for the other matters of the heart. I'm not sure what to say about Lucky's call. It hurt. He was happy and sweet and cheerful and concerned - he wanted me to know he wouldn't want to be in this space with me if something really bad had happened and would want me to know he's in a good space and wishes me well and cares for me and understands if I don't call him back (ok I know this is a run-on sentence, but so was the message he left).

I'm not sure how to feel. I used to love his happy voice chiming over a message checking in on me - but this left me cold, flushed and sick to my stomach. "It takes something horrible" I thought, "for him to see what he had and lost". I remembered last summer - three months into the break-up, like now, when Mike died - it brought Lucky and I back together. He wanted so badly to be back in my life - he was at a good place and realized my worth in it and his in mine. All I could think is "why can't he ever see these things when he's with me and now that there really is no going back, not now, not ever". Second to this I realized I was dealing with good old Catholic guilt - he couldn't have this on his conscience any guilt he may feel, he wanted to feel clean, redeemed - so he made the call to make himself feel better. That thought hurt even worse - stinging harshly of the truth.

I weighed my reaction and in the end purchased a card. On it, it said:

To find the way out, we must go through

On the inside I wrote: "Thank you for your call. Please understand that I just can't"

Will he understand any of it ???

That the only way out of this relationship, this cycle, this heartache, this pain, this sadness is to just feel it without drugs or booze or sex (and without HIM) - to just crawl through it til I'm on the other side feeling every cut, bruise and rip in my heart along the way. And that when I say "I just can't" it's just the beginning of a sentence that shouldn't need to be finished to be understood.

I just can't love you anymore without hurting,
I just can't be your friend and not feel betrayed,
I just can't look at you without stirring up old feelings,
I just can't leave this space to make you happy,

I just can't.

I suppose it will have to be enough that I know.

no real time to blog, so random toughts:

• You just rock. Cool, cute, laid back. You made more than one of my friends (at THE HOLE nonetheless) swoon - do bears/cubs swoon ? Anyway - our second meeting was even more enjoyable then the first. Hope ya got home safe.
  
• I could have done without starting my weekend by getting a call from Lucky (the Ex) as I came off the plane. That's gonna be a whole other entry.
  
• Met an adorable South American guy from Rio De Janario - who convinced me to extend my trip a day (well, I mean blow off my flight while we made out in a dark corner of Rich's and then go enjoy some majorly fun cuddling.
  
• Drank more than I promised to - but over a larger time frame then expected (they start really early and go really late in SD)
  
• My house looks like a tornado hit it, and now I have to get ready for Long Beach Pride this weekend.
  
• I need to write more later when I can actually write.
  

...it seems I've spent my whole week receiving amazing emails from amazing people - I'm behind in getting back with everyone and I apologize. Hopping a flight in a couple hours to San Diego. Hope to do some thinking and deep talking with two of the most important people in my life, V. - my best friend since college and C. - my gay proxi-dad.

I may see this lovable rogue. Thank god I'll be on my best behavior - well kinda.

It's been a week. Thanks for caring about this rough little irish/norwegian misfit - your luving feels good.

With trepidition I feel myself coming clean with it.

I've been hiding. Not for days, not for weeks, for months. Many, many months.

I thought it all had started the day I broke up with Lucky - but I had been traveling that winding road for months before that. Did I start on that path last summer - the second time Lucky and I had broken up, or was it earlier - maybe when I was laid off from my job as as advertising exec, maybe when I broke up with Lucky the first time (fucking have to have the first strike to get to the third - "play ball!"), maybe it was the DUI sixth months into what I used to think was the best relationship of my life (a story I still haven't told)- maybe it was when I decided to start doing drugs again and go to my first circuit party at 30, and then my second and then my third (and so on) ??

I've been hiding behind any thing that would medicate me, soothe away my fears of not being lovable, being wrong in some deep, irrevokable way. I drank alot when I was a kid, drugs, booze, sex - I started young. It became an integral make-up of who I was - the load-bearing beam of my dysfunctionality. I learned that sex with strangers would make them like me, feel closer to me - give me control over others, that drugs made life more interesting, and booze - oh booze made me fucking sexy and funny as all get out - even if I couldn't remember your name or the punch line 20 minutes after you had come in my mouth and the joke had come out of it.

Don't let me paint the wrong 'Movie of the Week' picture here (could John Stahmos play me though - he needs a job - Rebecca's carry his dead weight) - I have had many periods of control, or abstinence. My Senior year of college - I didn't drink or do drugs for a year. But I fucked around, man did I fuck around. I would bore of a guy after a month - usually because it meant if I kept seeing him I couldn't (in good conscience) go to the bookstore. See if it wasn't booze, or drugs, or sex, or shopping, or a person, or working out - it would be something. I just kept shifting the blame. I blew out both tires on my truck hitting that median - because of the booze, I wasn't to blame. I let that guy and his roomate bareback me - I was higher then a kite on drugs, I wasn't to blame. I would spend $500 bucks on shirts in the days when I was only making $21,000 - I really needed those clothes, I wasn't to blame.

I fall back into these behaviors - not because I have a problem with booze, or drugs, or shopping, or sex, or working out - but because I have a problem with - me.

I just use everything else to mask it. I am an amazingly funtional - self-hater. I can bump up before work, drink at lunch and get through the day impressing them all. I am the typical Leo - playing "life of the party", never really remembering how many drinks I had - but able to count the phone numbers, the conquests, the laughs. I can mix my K with my E with my T (but not G, at least that one I know is a one way trip to an early grave - the only thing I seem to have a wake-up call on) and seem pretty normal.

I need to take a good long look and figure out how I want to proceed with this life. I've done a great job faking it - but I think the cracks are starting to show through.

Leo:
Robust individuals are feeling slightly fragile. There's no harm in taking refuge for a while until you feel up to speed. And when you decide to step outside, be advised that people are playing rough out there. Maybe your old sense of adventure will return once you get a taste of it. The surging and colliding of different types of energies could be exciting if you feel like taking the risk. You already have a good feeling about this.

Thanks

...dropped off the heart monitor at the hospital last night and have an appointment with a cardiologist on Tuesday. In the meanwhile - I've taken a few days off from the gym, no caffine, no supplements, no booze. Hope to get back to the gym tonight or tomorrow - depending on if this lil rag-a-muffin comes up from Tucson tonight. I feel good, like whatever has happened has passed. Occassional tightness in my chest and my heart seems to run much faster in the morning. Suppose the next work-out will be the test. I'll be in San Diego Friday thru Sunday so it's gonna be so hard not to party. I've been mulling the words over in my head again and again: "Maybe someone is trying to tell you something". I didn't get too heavily into it with the Emergency Room doctor what my current drug usuage was. Primarily he was concerned about my use of "X". I told him I had used it in Palm Springs a few weeks back, but didnt mention the others - and tough I wasn't excessive in quantity, I was in variety and combinations. Maybe it's all just to much, bad-boy/gym-boy supplements, the heavy drinking, the drug use, the stress, the break-up - maybe when I said my heart was ripping - it wasn't as emotional as it was factual. I push myself harder and harder through these work-outs to become invincible - someone who can't be hurt. I medicate my daily existence with booze and drugs - so I can't feel Lucky and Baby's absence. I think how many times over the past few months I've thought - I feel like my heart could just burst right now. Am I killing myself without knowing it? No, I don't buy into that. Am I pushing myself too far, too hard, too fast? Yeah, probably, probably so.

And in other news:

I have my next tattoo consultation tomorrow night. I'm very excited. Really just adding on to the existing one, but I get a great vibe from this guy that it's gonna be awesome.

Also, sometime between now and this time tomorrow I should have my 70,000 visitor. Kinda cool. Maybe it's you.

...well a little scare now and then is good for the blood flow I guess.

Spent most of yesterday in the Scottsdale Memorial Emergency Room - actually 6 hours to be exact. Sunday at the gym in the middle of a really bad ass work out I started to notice that my heart had made a decision to leap out of my chest. Lil fucker started racing like a speed demon, pounding faster and faster - being a pain-in-the-ass and hating the whole medical experience I ignored it and assumed this would pass. Went home and showered and went out for beer with the boys and felt reasonably better. After several beers and much flirting with the "hot muther fucker" - I felt extremely better. Anyway - fast forward to me waking up at 1AM to find that the lil fucker had started racing again. I huffed and puffed, walked around, listened to music and the fucker wouldn't slow down. Now fast forward to 7AM. I haven't been back to sleep and still a little nervous, my heart beat has moved down, but I'm having chest pains. I get ready, go to work, and when my boss shows up - explain that I want to run up to the doctor and have them take a look. After an EKG comes back with an abnormal status - due to an irregluar heart beat/rythm - they send me to ER (where I spend more than enough time - hooked to machines - staring in to space).

Well the good new is - despite the irregular heart beat which I may have always had and never had any reason to be concerned about, my blood work and ultrasound and second EKG look good. If nothing else the Doctor thinks I'm in amazing shape (I will admit I was attempting to wear my hospital gown in a provocative way to show skin - kidding). So they hook me up to a portable heart monitor that I have to wear thru this afternoon and then I have to do a followup with a cardiologist next week.

Now the bad news is the doctor says no more supplements. Seems he thinks those culprits sent my heart thru the roof - giving me a little cardi heart frustration. I admittedly don't like this answer - but suppose I'll behave for a while and see if it helps.

So I spent the night at my folks (who were worried sick) for the first time since I was 21 - kinda weird. But my Mom wanted to get to take care of me. And hey after a day like that - I was open to that.

Ahhhh - never a dull day.

...risky words. but I may have just met the hottest muther fucker I have ever met before. and he was all about me all night long.....
not the time, not the place. but damn - fucking-a-damn - i was hard all night just talking to him.

....Sundays have always been the hardest. Through the ups and downs of my time with Lucky, it was on Sundays that I would miss him most. Today no exception. I find ways to busy myself and stem off the creeping emotion looking to make itself known. I sit at a coffee house and read, I tease my monkey, I clean out the garage, I run to Target to buy things to organize the minimal disarray. Sometimes you come across something and no matter how good you're doing - at least for a tic, a sec, a moment -you feel him again - kissing your cheek, patting your ass, watching you stare off in to space. I found the 1 year warranty I bought for the "all-in-one" fax/copy/scanner I gave him at Christmas - forward it to his roomate I suppose. I find a folder with Baby's veternarian receipts, information on puppy pre-school, and a hand-drawn note to Lucky in yellows, pinks and greens saying 'Happy 1 Week Anniversary Daddy - Luv Baby'...it makes me pause, reflect and I feel a small ripping in my heart.

I start projects, water the plants and prepare to hit the gym. There will be beers later with H. and C. and D. - I'm building fences - using friends. I let the handsome, human fence surround me at bars and feel safer behind it - looking outwards. I smile, I laugh, I joke...yet behind my eyes there's been a bit of a vacancy for weeks now. In the cocky swagger there's a suggestion of 'maybe', but more often 'off-limits' or 'danger - construction site'. I went to dinner and for drinks (far, far to many drinks) with the charming, vunerable, J the EE (formerly known as 'BN1") last night, and as the smoothness of his vodka tonics took hold of him I could see despite my distance - he's slipped to far. He's fallen. He references a new found belief in love or finding that Mr Right - he knows his comments must appear indirect to not scare me. Saddened, I'm really gonna hurt this one aren't I? I pound through the libation medication and wonder what the other side of this really looks like. Handsome, gentle, Maestro (formerly known as 'BN3') will be leaving for Chicago soon for 8 weeks. He's made it clear he hopes for visits, he asks for nothing when he tells me he misses me when I'm not there. He seems used to my controlled silence, my smile, my body. In both their eyes I see them studying, seeking clues and I wonder how much I give up without knowing it. They know there are others, they know not to expect the daily call - and they feel his presence too, still lingering beyond my shoulder.

uh, yeah - well like to quote Madonna:


You think that I can't live without your love,
you'll see.
You think I can't go on another day
You think I have nothing
without you by my side.
You'll see, some-how, some way.

You think that I can never laugh again,
You'll see.
You think that you've destroyed my faith in love.
You think after all you've done,
I'll never find my way back home.
You'll see, some-how, some-day.

First Chorus:

All by myself,
I don't need anyone at all.
I know I'll survive,
I know I'll stay alive.
All on my own,
I don't need anyone this time.
It will be mine,
No one can take it from me.
You'll see

You think that you are strong but you are weak,
You'll see.
It takes more strength to cry,
Admit defeat.
I have truth on my side,
You only have deceit.
You'll see, some-how, some-day.

RideMeCowboy

Maybe it's just me - but why is it every time I heard a newscaster gleefully describe the proposed "dramatic" entrance of our President onto the aircraft carrier the US Abraham Lincoln (or something of the such) - flying in on a four-seater jet-fighter (How Cowboy!) before he declares his victory speech over Iraq (oh - but he won't use the word "Victory", probably because they NEVER turned up any of those pesky WOMD they were fighting over in the first place) - I think of that scene from Stanley Kubrick's - Dr. Strangelove, Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb (1964) where Major Kong rides the dislodged "Hi There!" bomb (quite phallic) rodeo style - screaming "Yahoo! Yahoo!" towards it's detonation target.

"Yahoo" anyone ??

...weird to read your own words - and think "I've been here before"

Trading emails with my much-loved and adored Donald (remember her - she's a high-class ho in Jersey City now - who knew !!) and I kinda breathed some life into something I've been thinking about of late. I'm not sure how I feel about my blog anymore. As I close in on two years - I find that the past two months my writing has been - controlled. Let's face it - I can stand to rip open my heart and lap at the wounds in front of a million strangers - but one ex-boyfriend and I've gone benign. I'm not saying I'm dropping out, I'm not saying much of anything - i'm thinking on paper (or a blinking white screen). I've closed my heart and mind to Lucky - and for him to have a way in, a way to know my inner thoughts, my grief, my hopes, my new experiences isn't fair. I remember when I had him read the incredibly painful story of being raped when I was 16. He sat there and then changed the subject. No comment nothing. I had just shared for the first time with any boyfriend the reason I flinch when he tries to force it in me, the cause of my inflated machoism, the most humiliating moment of my life - and with tears framing my eyes - he stares at me in silence. I don't want him to share any more of my life. It's our relationship all over again - one-sided. He gets to know me on the deepest level possible and I get a one-dimensional, self-involved, curiousity seeker. (I guess if your reading this - you deserved the comment, so sorry - but it's how I feel). So what do I do? I've told some amazingly raw stories on here and it's not a complete picture. I'm a living, breathing, ever-evolving, ever-feeling beast. But I don't think I can breathe my words on to this page anymore, it feels more exposed than ever - and even I choose to draw a line somewhere.

...so there you were.

Hadn't I just been bopping along to Groove Armada's "The Groove is On" seconds before - feeling really good about my work-out, chatting with cute boys, feeling like the old me - I wonder if you had been watching me just seconds before. Certainly T. had told you I was there. What were you thinking when your eyes fell on me and watched me oblivious to your glare. Did you have the rush of emotions I did - did your head scream and your heart beg to look away. My pulse raced and veered out of control.

The day you left with our dog was the last time I saw you.

I wasn't ready - but then maybe I was. Did you notice I shaved the beard? Your buff - you juicing? Do you know about the 4 way - R. had to go running and tell you about it didn't he? Do you still find me handsome? Whose keeping your sheets warm now? Do you hurt? Does it fucking hurt ?

Maybe I was ready - but then maybe I wasn't.

What Rocks? Sitting literally like six feet from lovely Annie Lennox as she belts out beautiful song after song tonight.

What DOESN'T Rock ? Losing my goddamn keys in the parking lot sometime before or after the concert. . Having to break in to my house by breaking a window, cutting through a screen then crawling through said broken window and screen....and realizing once I was in my house, how fucking easy it was and that the neighbors didn't even stir.

I'm getting an alarm, and I'm never letting my keys out of my sight again.

eh - the picture sucked - so I pulled it - but needless to say the beard is gone.

Cute Parental Unit Moment #257:

(Discussing with my Pop why I was in Palm Springs for the weekend)

Me: "It's called the White Party - I've gone the last four years - I know I've told you about it?"
Dad: "Yeah - but why do they call it the White Party?"

Me: "Because you have to wear white"
Dad: "Have to...everyone?"

Me: "Well yeah - I mean they won't arrest you if you don't"
Dad: "Well what will they call it next year then?"

Me: "uh, Dad - they'll still call it the White Party"
Dad: "Their making you wear white again next year?"

...sometime this weekend - lost in a delightful fugue brought on by multiple players from the alphabet - dancing in a bank of dance floor fog to Phil B or Tracy Young or Manny Lehman - I felt this sensation: togetherness.

I realized that, the moment I like myself best and see myself for who I really am and the possibility to be - is when I'm with friends (new and old).

I don't want to date anyone right now. Not BN1 or BN2 or BN3 or any other BN_ that might come along. I'm not ready. I don't want to share my deepest thoughts. I don't want another guy to make up cute nicknames for me, I don't want to wake up next to anyone - not yet. I've started distancing myself from the bachelors. I don't want to be cruel, I don't want to hurt anyone - but this isn't about them - it's about me (I've spent enough of my life worrying about hurting others).

Today is two months. Two months since I officially closed the door with Lucky. I don't regret it. It hurts. More than I ever really write about here. I miss him - but I think I miss more the idea of him, or the memories of him with me that make me smile. I'm not ready to love someone else. But with friends - you can shower them with all that love, laughter and adoration that used to belong to your ex. I started booking trips last night - more efforts to connect with my closet friends. I'll be in San Diego in 2 weeks, Long Beach the weekend after that and Los Angeles sometime in June.

Without my boyfriend and my dog I became ungrounded.

I want to love something, I want to laugh with someone, I want to build memories with someone...

...but I think they call that person a friend,

or even better, let's call that person - me.

there was dancing.
there was hot sex.
there were crushes.
and kissing boys.
there was laughing and napping and cuddling.
I got to know old friends even better. I made new friends I already treasure.
I met a sweet blond reader (sorry I was so spacey - uh, go figure)

...and for the first time ever, I drove home from White Party alone - just me, my music, my memories.

wiped. a little emotional. and needing a shower.

wonderful.wonderful.wonderful.fun.

i think i realized this weekend that I really like myself, and maybe started seeing what others see in me.

bags packed.
cooler stuffed.
workouts done.
party supplies received.

I'm happily speeding my shiny black car towards an epiphany
or two.

it pays to get connected. went to ACME with P. so she could hook up with the sexy bartender T. - he in turn introduced me to the tatto artist who did most of the tat's for Linkin Park...I'll be having a consultation with him next week to take my current tat to "extreme bad boy tat levels"

oh and BTW - I donated my hard-earned moola to these fine people yesterday, did you ?

...and so it begins - or began last night. I began the final round of shopping for white clothes, swimsuits, shorts and anything that would get me laid this weekend in Palm Springs (White Party 2003) - ok I was kidding about the last part - no, you weren't - yes, I was - no, weren't ....uh, nevermind.


...considering how little I worked out during the house guest - I'm looking "ok". Not Titan Media Porn Star "Hot" like I originally hoped and planned, but I still have three more work outs to get in and a couple of outfits that have a little vroooooom


Had dinner and went shopping with BN1 last night - he really is just the greatest guy - literally acted like watching me try on swimsuits and shorts was fun and kept running to get me varying sizes and cuts. This has to put me pretty low on the masculinity scale saying this - but really - a good man is one you can take shopping. end of really gay moment.


BN3 is the first "giver of the card". Drove cross town to leave a card on my door for when I got home from work with lots of sexy and sweet shit written in it. Subsequently he's the one who has been given sleep over status - twice.


Kinda blew of any efforts to pursue anything with BN4 & BN5, it's all getting kinda tricky and draining - if there's meant to be another "bachelor" in the mix it'll work out that way without my effort.


So anyway - no posts after tomorrow. Have a great week and if I'm seeing ya in Palm Springs make sure to say startle me and say "Hi HCL" - you'll freak me out at first, but I'll get used to it

...it's there. somewhere in the back of my mind. usually when I'm at my most tired - not sleepy tired - "run-around" tired. those times when you feel like you've been just running for weeks and weekends on end. dates. dinners. movies. partying. things to do, so much to do. suddenly you catch a glimpse of your reflection in a big store window and when you see yourself - you think "what is he running from?"

but then you know. he's running from you. he's being running from you since the day those words fell from his lips and the door between you was closed. when I'm really tired - like this - it's the only time you get back in. a memory of laughing together at something. of 'pillow talk'. of holding your hand. and for that moment I let go of the hatred and a sadness takes place as I miss you. miss being known by you.

i had my first 'sleep-over' - it wasn't planned or organized - it just kinda went that way. and it was nice and odd at the same time. how perfect to have the first sleep-over not even be in my bed - but me and he in the spare room on an air-matress, while the house guest slept peacefully in my bed. the bed you once shared with me. when i rolled over in to him and pulled him closer - he slept softly. larger, stronger - it seemed odd. he could protect himself. my arms around him were merely comforting. we would misunderstand each others movements, yet then fall in to step - waking, then kissing the others rising back or resting forehead - then falling back asleep.

and when the sun asked not to be ignored and fell more abundantly from around the window shades - he and I woke to each other. and you in that moment weren't there.

...it's never short of um - well something - here these days.

• The funeral was amazing - AMAZING - I only teared up towards the end - but my lovely girls flanking my sides cried all the way thru. Literally the church was full to the hilt of amazing people. 200 - maybe 250. This guy was so loved. M.'s eulogy was the most amazingly human thing I have heard spoken in a long time. Can a person get "funeral envy"?
  
• The house guest and I have been having the craziest fun - how have I managed to dress my self each day when I could have a girl to discuss each selection with me and insist on viewing 20 to 100 choices.
  
• BN1 seems to have found out about BN3. Not sure whats up with the mojo - but last night at Amsterdams - a BN4 and BN5 contestant reered their beautiful heads and seriously, drop-dead sexy bodies. One given a kiss. One given a number.
  
• Looking forward to a little down time after this weekend, but considering I'm in Palm Springs from Friday to Monday - not sure I'll be getting that.

AGENDA:

• Pick up the "El Train" at the airport.
  
• Lunch with the "ladies that lunch" at Arcadia Farms
  
• Maragarita's at Dos Gringos
  
• Boyz at BS
  
• Day-o-Shopping - Kierland, Fashion Square, Biltmore (mental note: MUST buy a frigging bathing suit)
  
• Dinner at AZ88, drinks at Merc - meet up with BN1
  
• Funeral - is my suit clean, what tie?
  
• Memorial Service
  
• Wine at Il Postino
  
• Dinner at Elements at the Sanctuary
  
• Breakfast at Orange Market Grocery
  
• Day-o-Beauty - Spa Day at Phoenician
  
• Dinner at Bar Mouche - meet up with BN2
  
• Sunday (all day) Sedona - rich hippies and soul stuff.
  
• Monday AM (friggin early) - the El Train departs.

...went out with BN3 last night. I gotta admit my heart was racing the entire time, and when he kissed me - in my car - after a very flirtatious and enjoyable dinner - my heart stopped. I'm not saying anything - but I'm saying - I hadn't felt a surge of energy like that since my first kiss with Lucky. I'm feeling lust - bad. I'm not looking to be boyfriends with anyone - put if I'm gonna finally put out - this is where I want to start.

I put the ball in his court - "Ask me out if you'd like to see me again?" - his response:

"May I ask you right now?"

I'm having dinner with him tonight.

maybe I can find time to let go of some of this
...so it is
maybe I can see a way to have more love for myself
...so it is
maybe I can leave this hate behind that's seeping down in to my soul
...so it is
maybe I can love myself alone, more then I could ever need another to do it for me
...so it is
maybe my tomorrows are more beautiful than my yesterdays
...so it is
I just have to agree to let go - breathe - let go - breathe - let go
...so it is

(random thoughts from my raki massage yesterday)

Proof that I don't just live in a tight t-shirt and jeans - the civilized me

  

BN#3 called.

Ok - I lied about there not being a Bachelor #3 - I gave a guy my phone number last night - and I really, really, really want him to call. This one I would have to fight (against myself) tooth and nail not to put out for.

Bachelor #2 is history, so really that's just a manageable two anyway, right?

Sucked it up last night and went out to places that have a high probablity of running into the "X". I didn't and had alot of fun and alot of attention (INSERT HERE: New Meat) to boot. Going to see "Dirty Blonde" at Gammage tonight and then have to start getting ready for my Serbian Mistress houseguest.

Good times to all this weekend.