A New Feature Film
Remember to subscribe, it's the easiest way to keep up with nick news the latest of which involves me as Assistant Director and Assistant Editor for the new feature film to look up, We Grew Up Here.
I was walking home today from work, feeling dirty. Not because of my ongoing romps in the bedroom but because of the street view and the view of the given circumstance… it’s the right time for change. A man I admire once told me this:
It’s all in how you frame it.
Today is 12/13/14 and I have always been a fan of dates, not necessarily the romantic ones.
“Today I came out of debt for the first time since I was 17.” It was the right time to be debt free… and embrace debt forgiveness (if you’re the government or some shit).
It is time to actually make something. The taste that is left in my mouth by serving a company or a product that sells false hope or remains worthless is far worse than the bitterest or the sourest percimmon.
I walked by that place where that guy got shot a few days ago. There were about 12 candles surrounding a bottle or orange soda and a picture of Jesus. I just stopped and stared at it for about two minutes. I wonder who put these things here?
As I write part of this a friend sits behind me. I have never written while someone literally watched over my shoulder. Everything changes when it is being observed, even on a subatomic level. Being made up of all those little particles, it is a logical notion to be aware that our awareness of being watched changes everything. What happens when the watching ends?
Dance like no one’s watching.
Today is the right time for you to love you. Often times we all beat ourselves up over missteps in relationships, our financial debt or whatever else we perceive as shortcomings. I have probably mentioned it once before somewhere in these pages but a dear friend once said to me the following, little line which still rings as dear to me than ever before.
Hey, you are enough.
While hearing this in the midst of a dramatic, mid-twenties nervous breakdown it certainly wasn’t a moment of clarity. Yet, the more I have thought about those simple words, the clearer it all becomes. It’s not what I haven’t done or have yet to do, it’s what I have done. It’s not what you didn’t get, it’s what you’ve got.
In our nation we are taught to compete. While competition is good for the market when the veil of “economic prosperity” is lifted where do you find yourself? How do we “compete” in a cycle where money is simply meant to trickle down for a bit only to rise back up to the top in the forms of fees, insurance, interest, student loans and the income tax. Seems far from the light side of the perspective to dwell on such realities yet I somehow manage a smile to find myself at a break even point in my life.
And I met someone new.
Boy he made me smile so much yesterday. I wonder if I will ever see him again.
Nonetheless, “it’s all in how you frame it.” Right Jerre?
A really big, tall, Native America guy once said to me “I fall in love a hundred times a day if I’m lucky.” However many fleeting moments I have had with so many men who have turned and ran for the hills matters not. What does matter is the small moments of happiness we both had before they were gone.
Money, love, sex, relationships, bills, work, random thoughts… it all adds up to getting lost in the muck. I remind myself of these quotes and know that I am “enough” and it is all in the way I “frame it” and that it’s o.k. for me to “fall in love a hundred times a day.” One day it will be returned in an unquestionable way that leaves me knowing that it’s the right time… but as for who, who knows.
I cannot for the life of me figure out whether or not I even like him anymore. The term self-sabotage comes to mind.
It has been over a year. This guy and I have been talking sporadically due, in part, to his hectic work schedule (or possible to his already being in a relationship of which I know nothing). What’s the other part? It’s gotta be that good ole, indecisive “do I want a relationship or not” mentality. I know. I created that mentality.
Let me make one thing perfectly clear. We have not had sex yet. Well, we haven’t gone all the way. You know, cause in the gay world blow jobs are like handshakes. “Good to meet you. See you later.” I actually had one guy mouth “thank you” (while he was on the phone) followed by a quick wave on his way out the door, but that was last Tuesday so that’s neither here nor there.
Back to the guy at hand, the one. So, “what happened to that one guy?” my friend Becca asks. I share, “well it’s been about six weeks and I was abiding by my rule. I’ll text ya once or twice and call once. If I don’t hear from ya I figure you have moved on to the next John.” My name is not John nor am I a prostitute. Otherwise, I would be rich.
“That sucks. We all really liked him.” Becca was right. It did suck. He was… is a nice guy… from what I know. He is certainly not a one not stand in any sense of the word. We have had multiple dates. He has met a handful of my friends and I have spent the night once. Plus, I still have a light jacket of his from last Fall. This is what I get from him last night.
The infamous booty call text message. “What’s up… sup… yo” They all mean the same thing. Let’s have sex right now. Can you magically appear in front of me and be totally in the mood for some lovin’? In this instance the answer is no mainly because this particular text message arrived at 4:28 a.m. this morning. No one in the world is awake during that time (Central Time Zone). Maybe some people gotta get up at 4:30 for work but not 4:28.
I could not really wrap my head around that because even the bar crawlers should be asleep right around then… and he is not a bar crawler though he had to have been drunk to text me at that time. What did I reply?
“You woke me up, that’s ‘what up'”
This was followed by some short swear words after I realized that I was going to be so tired in the morning as my perfected 1.5 hour increment sleeping cycle had been broken. I am so tired of typing this. Beauty rest is more than beauty rest, it’s leg rest, arm rest, eyeball rest. Uggg, my eyeballs. What did he reply?
“Ha ok then go back to bed ?”
What did I reply? Nothing.
I was so pissed, am pissed and will be pissed for about ten more minutes. First of all, I do not care if you are hitting me up for a booty call. Sometimes it’s very cute to me. However, I do very much care if you are not respecting the thing called sleep. I will throw things at you.
Look for my follow up YouTube video about this late night, booty call business.
There’s just too many guys in the mix of late and not one of them has made a stance to really attempt to claim me, not that they could cause I guess in one sense every guy is very similar. We want what we can’t have, often take for granted the things that we do have and feel bitter and contempt when someone is honest enough to say “I am not into it.” … Yawn. I think that about covers all I can say about it for now… at least until the third cup of coffee.
Golly he’s such a good guy, smart, motivated, handsome and more. Still, 4:28, its not the right time.
It has been too long. During this magical day I found myself revisiting.
“Damn, I have to do something around the house. I can’t just waste two days off back to back, playing Bioshock,” is what I would have uttered to myself had I been able to speak during the last 48 to 72 hours. Around the time the seasons change something always goes into shock, remission, chaos or just plain goes bad. This time ’round, as Chicago tries to decide whether it is Spring, Fall or Winter I sound more like a witch than ever.
It started on Saturday night, a noticeable loss. Sometimes we just have to hide before we emerge.
“Why do you sound like a girl?” some precious little child asked during a typical birthday party at RobotCity. “Because I lost my voice,” I said to her sounding terribly frightening. Later on she adds, “He sounds like a girl but he’s a boy,” to the room at large (just in case they were confused, as some often are it seems).
The next day I am unable to make even the most pitiful attempts at speech, instead I rest up and meet up with one of the most beautiful young men I have met to date. Though, we weren’t meeting to date. That was my problem.
This young man and I had been texting back and forth for some time and he undoubtedly convinced me to come over while his roommate was out. Do the math.
I disclosed very early on that I might not be in performance mode as I had been drinking whiskey (hottie totties) and plus I was a bit nervous. After a touch a text drama I new that I needed to meet this guy tonight. We had blown one another off on too many occasions and it kind of felt like a now or never thing.
Let me just say, I am totally comfortable being naked. As we both lay there he asks what he can do to “put [me] at ease.” “I am at ease,” I mutter in the most gutteral way. He then asks what he can do? I told him, “just being here is enough.” I liked looking at him. I liked kissing him. I liked the way his skin felt beneath my fingers as I traced his body. Yet, it’s gone, like they are all gone.
“Well do you think you’ll get your groove back by then?” he asks after telling me that he will be moving to Aurora on December 1st. The story of my life used to involve meeting a beautiful man whereupon we split ways six weeks later, clockwork. I guess now even that has sped up.
I confessed to him. As he pondered why I wasn’t on top of him, full throttle I let him know that my mind just landed on thoughts such as why had we not met before this bed. Probably the last I will see of him. Though, I hope not. He really is a sweet, beautiful young mind with a kind soul.
Oh, I must have glanced through three hundred photos today looking for just the right ones. I changed up an old frame from portrait style to landscape but still wanted it to remind me of those beautiful faces from college life, Jeanette, Aliza, Richard, Amanda, Alice, Jenny, Denise and so many more.
You know that feeling of wandering? I imagine we all get it from time to time whether we realize the feeling or not. Today on this 11/11/14 a different guy came to pick me up. We went back to his place and watched A Most Wanted Man. Queen of the Damned was on in the background earlier while I was fixing up that frame. Odd line up of movies in my mind.
Oh yeah, and some dick left another queer quote on my YouTube channel today questioning my gender. I refuse to type “laugh out loud,” but it was kind of funny considering a little girl basically said the same thing in her own vocabulary. Crazy.
My date was a sweetheart and dropped me off at the door. Guess that’s the last time I’ll ever see him. Well, it should be. He’s getting too close already and I don’t want him to be. My mind is on someone else, a couple of someone elses actually.
I walk back into my place. I take off my shoes, slowly sliding in socks past my refreshed frame.
I do not claim to be a religious person anymore. I have been done with that for some time as I think most if not all should be, but when I awaken out of the flux for just a few moments I feel blessed. I am reminded of a message I created earlier in life, I am a religion.
In this silence I have been reminded the power of my words, the power of all of our words. For those who have been in doubt, lost, in depression, feeling worthless as if nothing you have done will amount to anything… reframe those thoughts.
My friendtor (once mentor now dear, distant friend) once said to me after I released one of those darkly radiant sob stories on him, “Hey… you are enough.” He meant that just by my being me, I was enough in this world. That is still so hauntingly comforting to me even this night.
I am happy I am getting my voice back.
“You are enough.”
This year, these days, this night find yourself revisiting. Find yourself breaking the silence.