So I'm writing a piece for this Black Bear inclined blog that I have been ever so lucky to be acquainted with and the piece requires me to do a bit of self reflection and take a few nostalgic (and uncomfortable) trips down memory lane. Mainly when it comes to my dealings with the ever (in)famous Notaboyfriend... Dean. The whole excursion combined with the recent manscaping of my grey wool inclined face has definitely pushed the idea of my own mortality into the forefront of my thoughts lately with the main theme being; what EXACTLY have I been doing all this time?
One of the many posts I wrote about that dude included the lyrics to a song by Tori Amos and that's when it occurred to me, Tori Amos. Tori fucking Amos! Seriously... what have I been doing all this time! My absolute and utter love of everything Tori Amos has been documented, certified and registered in the stars just in case if Tori herself forgets that she has fans, she can just look up and know one shabby and chubby little dude in a cold water flat in Hollywood still lights a candle for her. But where is that candle? Where is my incessant need to have that "Tori-as-Fairy" tattoo emblazoned on my back as my own personal guardian angel or the lyrics "And when my hand touches myself I can finally rest my head and when they say take of his body I think I'll take from my own instead" emblazoned on my forearm as my own talisman to ward off against zealous Christians and Catholics alike? This started a little spiritual/emotional "What Ever Happened To..."grocery list.
Now I do have this self-deprecating tendency to downplay my achievements and lessen my own shine. I moved to Los Angeles in 1998 with a back pack a dream. Sixteen (!) years have passed and I have since sold that back pack for food and that dream along with $2.50 can only get me a Metro train ticket. One way. But even still, not all of those years were squandered. No I didn't rise up the cinematic or literary ranks of a Spike Lee, James Earl Hardy or Toure... but I have kept a steady job, a steady apartment, never been arrested, never been addicted, don't ask my folks for money and most importantly, I'm still alive. I mean... come one... that HAS to count for SOMETHING! Plus, I have kept my eyes open this whole time, recording and analyzing everything I see. It has not been for naught. I pay attention to all of the life lessons I have encountered and juice the rest for my writings.
But even still, you can't help but be just a little nostalgic.
WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO...
It has been years since I have physically seen or heard from Dean and while I'm sure if I thought about it hard enough I could conjure up a little discontentment, for the most part what I mostly feel is ambivalence with a little bit of sympathy for him. I have gotten into the habit of never mentioning him around my friends because they have deemed him to be my emotional Beetlejuice whereas if I utter his name three times he'll pop back up in my life to break my heart all over again, and I would fall in love with every single crack... again. And who could blame them. The record has shown that I (Charlie Brown) have tried to kick (kiss) his (Lucy's) ball every time it has been presented to me only to wind up flat on my back, hurting and cursing the gods. Declaring my resistance to his charms has been futile in the past, my friends want Actions. O.k. I have not seen or heard from the dude in years. We ended absolutely horribly, the worst way to break up actually, but we had some good times. I don't necessarily regret anything. What I can tell you is that I am currently in a relationship that is... monumental and life-changing to say the least and I'm not sure my resolve with my current dude would be as strong if it were not for Dean. So I thank him for all the sugar, all the shit. It is, however, a little amazing how much time I spent with that dude! The endless hours preoccupying my time in this I love him/I hate him loop á la Carrie and Mr. Big of Sex In The City fame. In that scenario, I can tell you... I went off into the sunset with Aiden... and he makes me inexplicably happy.
...my writing/the Monthly Breeze
I did construct this goal of creating this literary revolution amongst the Black LGBT community whereas I would produce provocative and thought provoking work that would make a lasting and positive impact on American culture straight and gay. But you know what, revolutions are a lot of work, yo. This is when, as if an act of God, Male Media Mind entered my life, a blog that unifies the Black Bear Community through Dialogue, Insight, Communication and Knowledge. I have been meticulously diverting all of my energies and supporters over to Male Media Mind to take a gander of my work there as well as the work of the other contributors. The whole excursion has been wildly positive, not only have I been able to have a greater audience for work, I have made some long lasting friendships with people around country and.. mind you... found the aforementioned love of my life there.
The Ordinary People Experience is still around... we're still working on it. Again, I don't like talking about it, I'd rather just do it. It's been over ten years (!) since I first mentioned it so I'm pretty sure anybody who is STILL paying attention could only roll their eyes so... how about I just finish it, publish it and we'll go get drinks after. Deal?
Yes bitches... I gained it back. Not all of it mind you... but enough of it to have to start ALL OVER AGAIN. And yes... it CHAPS MY ASS thinking about it. But what can you do huh? Outside of... getting back to Weight Watchers, getting back to the gym, doing the same things differently, or maybe doing different things with the same motivation. I just got to reenact the positive affectations of losing 140 pounds and avoid the pitfalls of gaining 100 of those pounds back. I have always tried to separate my emotions from my weight loss/gain but the more I think about it I can draw a direct line to my weight and my heart my entire life. The simple truth is, when I'm happy, I eat. When I'm sad or pissed, I weight train. I fell in love with Dean and ballooned up to 380 pounds. He dumped me I dropped 140 pounds. Hmm... I wonder if there is a connection?
And oh yeah... I'm in love again. What's different this time is that... I'm 42. I don't think my body can really accept another significant load of Pizza Hut and McDonald's induced fat. I honestly do think, no joke, that if I got back up to 380 lbs. now, I would die. I just don't think my enlarged heart, creaky limbs or sore back could handle it. Just writing this down I can hear my arteries cry in a voice similar to Carolyn Ann at the end of Poltergeist, "Not again!"
What I can tell you is... I'm working on it, I'm working on it.
...my love of Tori Amos That... never dies. Tori forever! In fact I hear she is releasing an album and going on tour this year, which I think is apropos considering I could use a good aura enema nowadays and she is the freshest energy I know to flush all the bad stuff out. I used to try and quantify my love of all things Tori by making some pseudo-political affirmation that her piano based classical/pop/rock music was a refreshing break from my gully urban upbringing but you know... I just fucking like her. Regardless that she's from a prevalent part of Baltimore, regardless that I'm from the projects on the south side of Chicago... I'm an EWF (Ears With Feet) and proud of it. (Only TRUE Tori fans know what that means)
AND WHAT HAVE I LEARNED?
In addition to THESE things I have learned...
No matter how much you love your job, a corporation's love and concern for you is diametrically based SOLELY on how much you produce for them.
Show me a love that isn't just a little codependent and needy and I'll show you a love that isn't worth the heart it's written on.
You don't have to believe in gravity, your shit's gonna fall down regardless
If you're single, the last thing you want to hear from someone in a relationship is, "If you stop looking you'll find true love"... like... as if you're hungry you're not going to look for food...
If you're in a relationship, the last thing you want to hear from someone single, "They'll never know"...like... my genitalia has been in their mouth for an extended period of time, I think they will, and if they don't, I will...
ALL homophobes are homosexuals. All of them. ALL OF THEM.
Facebook friends are not real friends until you have coffee with them
It is what it is and it's gonna do what it's gonna do