Semester Update.
I went dark (and twisty) for a few days. All my fault. Drugs, and loneliness? Not a good mix. I mean chasing the crazy coyote throughout New York is always fun. Not really, but I needed to blow off the steam. It's funny how people are always on my mind. And who appears in the most unexpected places. And the connections in my mind. Sometimes when I'm out of it, I kind of wonder what the deal is.
But then there's the times when there are obvious metaphors that aren't drug related. Like mice stuck in a glue trap, screaming all night. Or the kitchen exploding. Or the mail box without my name on it, or an address.
Ok, I get it. I'm lonely or lonelancholy. Or something like that. By lonelancholy, I mean lonely and melancholy. (Yes, I sometimes combine two words out of convenience. But I do know that it should be two words. Anyway...) I've been facing things with an usual amount of trepidation. The October-February Corridor has always been particularly rough on me. All of this eventually ending around the 19th, on Chester's birthday. Which is quite possibly the worst day of the year. 5 fucking years of HIV this year. 5 fucking years since that last time on record that things got so bad that I actually didn't want to exist. Most people try to forget days and incidents like that. However, sometimes I wonder if how things panned out that day, well if they were to have zoomed a little bit different, that I would be different? I suppose that's where the birth of the multi-verse and its infinite possibilities. I try to forget that year. Coincidentally, that was also the first year that I ever travelled to NYC. It's all tied in together.
That was also the year that I chased after Joey Ryan. And that my friend, David killed himself. And that I became enthralled with writing passed a rudimentary level. I want to twist things, and say I pulled a lot back together that year, but so much of me, knows it's not. I think I want to go see RENT on that day. I really need a good cry.
Even after all the drugs burned out my body, I couldn't sleep. It was more so the Advent of reading the essays, and things that the kids wrote. Some of these kids really shouldn't have been passed as many times as they had. There's not much that I can do for them though and i"m not really sure what the school expects me to do. Part of why this perplexes me is that the principal pulled me aside, and basically scolded me for being me. And it really upset me. I already have issues with me being me...I really don't need someone else telling me that. I had an enough of an issue with the school asking me not to wear my glasses because they convey of sense of "nerdiness" and "weakness" but I can't really change some of the things that I was chided on. Especially when I see other people doing so much worse. So much of life is about presentation. As I wanted to type the other day, we all sort of play "The American Game." Where presentation is so much better than the actual substance of the thing being presented. For instance, I saw someone actually teaching the wrong thing on the board but because he comes of more as a frat-brother jock thing or whatever, it slides. Whereas, because of my glasses or the fact that I hide my body under clothing for respect, well it makes people think I'm the weaker one. Because of the appearance of being the weaker one, that means people think that you can be bullied more. Even when the truth is you can be so much stronger than frat brother jock. Hell, I could even be frat-brother-jock by appearance wise But in my heart? I don't know. I see too much of the world, and I look at the world with so much wonder that I don't think i could ever be a simple check box. But maybe I'll bone up on sports or something.
The issue with "The American Game" is that it isn't just present in my professional life, but in my personal life. There is a certain appearance that everyone seems to have to upload. And there are days when I just down feel like it. And I put on a hat, and I might have something stuck in my beard and a stain on my shirt. Or I might wear clothes that don't really fit into the scene where I'm supposed to go. Normally, when I wear contacts, people are surprised that I'm intelligent. Or that I speak well. In fact, I sort of get antsy when i hear the words "eloquent" and "articulate." Oh, and that I know a lot. Yes, I know a lot. I actually listen to people when they talk, and I try to process the information. Most of it's irrelevant and I file it away under my "random things that I will never need to know until I need to know it" file, but some of it I absorb to actual be able to function in conversation. Not for show, but to be an active participant in the conversation. Even though so much has happened, and even though I too ask myself "Why do I hate so many people?" (Thanks, Angel) I realize it's because there are so much many people in the world.
In the Mary J. Blige song, she sings "Ain't never ashamed of what life did to me. Never afraid to change because it was good for me. I just want to be myself, don't sweat, just be yourself. That's why I be myself. Work your thing out; They always going to hate, because you give back. It doesn't matter if you go along with their plan. They'll never be happy because they ain't happy with themselves. It's ok show yourself some love. Don't worry about whose seeing or saying what. It's gotta be your drive. Work what you got." I could listen to that song over, and over again. Because life is too damn short. I may walk the social field in an odd manner. However, I don't play games. I don 't play games. I don't have times. I am me, and I do what I do because it just happens to be the way my life experiences have panned out. Hell yeah there's a lot that I so don't want everyone knowing, but unfortunately the way my life has been written, I've made it so of an open book. The whole wearing my heart on my forehead. If I'm sad, I'm sad. When I'm happy, I'm happy. I really don't try to put up any fronts. But it seems I have to go to war.
And I really can't go to war with myself, and others over myself. I'm already feeling quite lonely. Probably, and most likely because I can't do the game. Not because I don't suck at it or because I don't know most of the new rules. It's just, somehow my forcefield, has really taken the "misfit" thing and run with it. Even though I probably fit in much more than I, or others actually think. Which is the amazing part. Not the ignorance, but the actual lack of people having the interest in understand the differences in other people. Or even celebrating them. I mean sometimes, the rally of a million people marching to the beat of a different drummer does, in fact, create an unorganized cacophony of noise. Such as in this years election, where you know people ask the question "which one are you voting for? The black man or the woman." When really the question should be more focused on the actual ideologies behind them, or the actual promises of change either of them can bring.
But back to my own personal level. Not sure what to do. I've started a funny thing with my family though. I'll call and ask my mom if she will be coming over for dinner, and she'll tell me "Sure. Right After I get off work." Today, my sister asked me if I was coming over for the sugar cookies that were baking in the oven. One day, 15 minutes later I'll be on their doorstep, or they on mine. And the promise of a promise is there. In regards to relationships with other people, I guess, more-so men. I just think I might be too damaged. I don't just wear my freak badge, no, it's tattooed on me. The thing is, I kind of need the rough sex, fisting, orgies, and other things, until I can get something or someone that makes me feel like a rockstar like they do. Last year, it was Art Teacher, who genuinely seemed interested in me, those things, and more. Yet more and more, I wonder if he is actually in love with the idea of someone who like those things and is in love with him, more than the actual of him loving me. But the ambiguity just makes it hard. Especially because he often seemed to not listen to me, but then every now and again, he surprises me with insight. It's been a while since he has done such but again, the promise. The prize at the end of the game. It's almost like I'm still chasing after Joey Ryan. As if, I've discovered the magic panacea of men, which is someone else who just sits on the outside and feels the same as I do. Even in the realm of dirty boys, it's really rare for me to feel that level of a connection. To the misunderstood, tortured, abused and hurt. Because even though we've all been "there", I don't think that "there" is the same for other people. In my head, that "there": exists the same for me, Joey and David. A place where one is not ashamed to be themselves, be it sex pig, artsy freak, or moody. They've been to my "there" and I've been to theirs. After the first time I had sex with Joey Ryan, when I hit the first stop sign, I actually broke down, and cried. It wasn't even good sex. Hell, I'm not even a fan of topping, but it was because it was with him. And that he seemed satisfied. I have that same earth shaking, rule breaking, holes in the wall sex with David. And even though it breaks all my rules (and my heart) I want to do it. Intensive love, the kind where you both give back, with your body, and your hearts. The kind where even after catching your breath, you still feel so deep underwater. The pressure of your limits, and the possibility that you might break after them. When it becomes so clear that you and this other person are both walking crooked on parallel lines, and then you some day will touch. I miss that. I need it. Even if it's in friendship. It's funny how I maintain these friendships that last with people so far away. Though when i get a text out of the blue, or a phone call, it feels like they are just right there. It's so great when someone says (as Toya did earlier) "I don't want to talk about it" but then you spend and hour on the phone talking about it. Honestly, I get out of things like that as much as some other get out of sex. It's why I still keep or try to maintain friendships with the phony ass people here in NYC. Because when they see me, and we talk, or they happen to be in front of me, I feel noticed (?). On the one episode of Grey's Anatomy where Doctor Bailey finally gets the chief resident position because the Chief finally as he says "I see the work you do around here, the way things function, and the way it happens" and she says "I didn't think you would ever see. I didn't think you would notice." And then bursts into tears. Well, I start bawling too. Because that's how I feel when I get noticed. Like when I had my review at work. It's just a great feeling when someone sees you. Not just the outer you that encompasses who you are but that inner sunlight, moonlight, sparkle, love, wonder or amazing. That energy that causes chemical reactions. The technology of the heart that pushes a person to walk with wounds. All the people who see me, aren't here, and most of them didn't see me when I was right there in front of them. But now when I go home, I wonder why I wanted to leave. But then I realize how miserable I was or think about the actual mystique of rest of the world beyond Erie County. This summer was really hard. Really hard. As that song goes, "I am rosemary's granddaughter, the spitting image of my father, and when the day is done, my mama's still my biggest fan....Some times I'm clueless and clumsy, but I've got friends who love me, and they know where I stand." Man, this summer was really hard. And it seems like tomorrow, or tomorrows is even harder. Because I really don't know how much my heart can take thinking about going to where one type of love is. I need more than family (and by family, I include my friends and the the family I've built). I need love, and friends. I need silly nights out drunk, and riding the subway, and digital cameras. I do worry that something bad might happen to me when I pass out drunk on the subway, and my unconscious body rides it from Brooklyn and the Bronx, or vice versa until I wake up, but well until someone wants to take that trip with me? It's a risk I'll have to take, until someone wants to take that trip with me. Lord knows I've tried rounding up chums for happy hour, after happy hour, the love below, and all those sorts of things, and end up alone. The same sort of risks that make a person type something like this ridiculously long live journal entry, when he should be preparing for school tomorrow, or even more appropriately taking his tired black ass to sleep. And I will. But after I quote James Blunt and say "So I'm standing all alone, and I'm only skin and bone. Why don't you give me some love? I've taken a shitload of drugs. I'm so tired of never fixing the pain. And the young said to me, I'll take you seriously....And we'll come back as someone else...whose better than yourself."
Until yesterday and much love.
But then there's the times when there are obvious metaphors that aren't drug related. Like mice stuck in a glue trap, screaming all night. Or the kitchen exploding. Or the mail box without my name on it, or an address.
Ok, I get it. I'm lonely or lonelancholy. Or something like that. By lonelancholy, I mean lonely and melancholy. (Yes, I sometimes combine two words out of convenience. But I do know that it should be two words. Anyway...) I've been facing things with an usual amount of trepidation. The October-February Corridor has always been particularly rough on me. All of this eventually ending around the 19th, on Chester's birthday. Which is quite possibly the worst day of the year. 5 fucking years of HIV this year. 5 fucking years since that last time on record that things got so bad that I actually didn't want to exist. Most people try to forget days and incidents like that. However, sometimes I wonder if how things panned out that day, well if they were to have zoomed a little bit different, that I would be different? I suppose that's where the birth of the multi-verse and its infinite possibilities. I try to forget that year. Coincidentally, that was also the first year that I ever travelled to NYC. It's all tied in together.
That was also the year that I chased after Joey Ryan. And that my friend, David killed himself. And that I became enthralled with writing passed a rudimentary level. I want to twist things, and say I pulled a lot back together that year, but so much of me, knows it's not. I think I want to go see RENT on that day. I really need a good cry.
Even after all the drugs burned out my body, I couldn't sleep. It was more so the Advent of reading the essays, and things that the kids wrote. Some of these kids really shouldn't have been passed as many times as they had. There's not much that I can do for them though and i"m not really sure what the school expects me to do. Part of why this perplexes me is that the principal pulled me aside, and basically scolded me for being me. And it really upset me. I already have issues with me being me...I really don't need someone else telling me that. I had an enough of an issue with the school asking me not to wear my glasses because they convey of sense of "nerdiness" and "weakness" but I can't really change some of the things that I was chided on. Especially when I see other people doing so much worse. So much of life is about presentation. As I wanted to type the other day, we all sort of play "The American Game." Where presentation is so much better than the actual substance of the thing being presented. For instance, I saw someone actually teaching the wrong thing on the board but because he comes of more as a frat-brother jock thing or whatever, it slides. Whereas, because of my glasses or the fact that I hide my body under clothing for respect, well it makes people think I'm the weaker one. Because of the appearance of being the weaker one, that means people think that you can be bullied more. Even when the truth is you can be so much stronger than frat brother jock. Hell, I could even be frat-brother-jock by appearance wise But in my heart? I don't know. I see too much of the world, and I look at the world with so much wonder that I don't think i could ever be a simple check box. But maybe I'll bone up on sports or something.
The issue with "The American Game" is that it isn't just present in my professional life, but in my personal life. There is a certain appearance that everyone seems to have to upload. And there are days when I just down feel like it. And I put on a hat, and I might have something stuck in my beard and a stain on my shirt. Or I might wear clothes that don't really fit into the scene where I'm supposed to go. Normally, when I wear contacts, people are surprised that I'm intelligent. Or that I speak well. In fact, I sort of get antsy when i hear the words "eloquent" and "articulate." Oh, and that I know a lot. Yes, I know a lot. I actually listen to people when they talk, and I try to process the information. Most of it's irrelevant and I file it away under my "random things that I will never need to know until I need to know it" file, but some of it I absorb to actual be able to function in conversation. Not for show, but to be an active participant in the conversation. Even though so much has happened, and even though I too ask myself "Why do I hate so many people?" (Thanks, Angel) I realize it's because there are so much many people in the world.
In the Mary J. Blige song, she sings "Ain't never ashamed of what life did to me. Never afraid to change because it was good for me. I just want to be myself, don't sweat, just be yourself. That's why I be myself. Work your thing out; They always going to hate, because you give back. It doesn't matter if you go along with their plan. They'll never be happy because they ain't happy with themselves. It's ok show yourself some love. Don't worry about whose seeing or saying what. It's gotta be your drive. Work what you got." I could listen to that song over, and over again. Because life is too damn short. I may walk the social field in an odd manner. However, I don't play games. I don 't play games. I don't have times. I am me, and I do what I do because it just happens to be the way my life experiences have panned out. Hell yeah there's a lot that I so don't want everyone knowing, but unfortunately the way my life has been written, I've made it so of an open book. The whole wearing my heart on my forehead. If I'm sad, I'm sad. When I'm happy, I'm happy. I really don't try to put up any fronts. But it seems I have to go to war.
And I really can't go to war with myself, and others over myself. I'm already feeling quite lonely. Probably, and most likely because I can't do the game. Not because I don't suck at it or because I don't know most of the new rules. It's just, somehow my forcefield, has really taken the "misfit" thing and run with it. Even though I probably fit in much more than I, or others actually think. Which is the amazing part. Not the ignorance, but the actual lack of people having the interest in understand the differences in other people. Or even celebrating them. I mean sometimes, the rally of a million people marching to the beat of a different drummer does, in fact, create an unorganized cacophony of noise. Such as in this years election, where you know people ask the question "which one are you voting for? The black man or the woman." When really the question should be more focused on the actual ideologies behind them, or the actual promises of change either of them can bring.
But back to my own personal level. Not sure what to do. I've started a funny thing with my family though. I'll call and ask my mom if she will be coming over for dinner, and she'll tell me "Sure. Right After I get off work." Today, my sister asked me if I was coming over for the sugar cookies that were baking in the oven. One day, 15 minutes later I'll be on their doorstep, or they on mine. And the promise of a promise is there. In regards to relationships with other people, I guess, more-so men. I just think I might be too damaged. I don't just wear my freak badge, no, it's tattooed on me. The thing is, I kind of need the rough sex, fisting, orgies, and other things, until I can get something or someone that makes me feel like a rockstar like they do. Last year, it was Art Teacher, who genuinely seemed interested in me, those things, and more. Yet more and more, I wonder if he is actually in love with the idea of someone who like those things and is in love with him, more than the actual of him loving me. But the ambiguity just makes it hard. Especially because he often seemed to not listen to me, but then every now and again, he surprises me with insight. It's been a while since he has done such but again, the promise. The prize at the end of the game. It's almost like I'm still chasing after Joey Ryan. As if, I've discovered the magic panacea of men, which is someone else who just sits on the outside and feels the same as I do. Even in the realm of dirty boys, it's really rare for me to feel that level of a connection. To the misunderstood, tortured, abused and hurt. Because even though we've all been "there", I don't think that "there" is the same for other people. In my head, that "there": exists the same for me, Joey and David. A place where one is not ashamed to be themselves, be it sex pig, artsy freak, or moody. They've been to my "there" and I've been to theirs. After the first time I had sex with Joey Ryan, when I hit the first stop sign, I actually broke down, and cried. It wasn't even good sex. Hell, I'm not even a fan of topping, but it was because it was with him. And that he seemed satisfied. I have that same earth shaking, rule breaking, holes in the wall sex with David. And even though it breaks all my rules (and my heart) I want to do it. Intensive love, the kind where you both give back, with your body, and your hearts. The kind where even after catching your breath, you still feel so deep underwater. The pressure of your limits, and the possibility that you might break after them. When it becomes so clear that you and this other person are both walking crooked on parallel lines, and then you some day will touch. I miss that. I need it. Even if it's in friendship. It's funny how I maintain these friendships that last with people so far away. Though when i get a text out of the blue, or a phone call, it feels like they are just right there. It's so great when someone says (as Toya did earlier) "I don't want to talk about it" but then you spend and hour on the phone talking about it. Honestly, I get out of things like that as much as some other get out of sex. It's why I still keep or try to maintain friendships with the phony ass people here in NYC. Because when they see me, and we talk, or they happen to be in front of me, I feel noticed (?). On the one episode of Grey's Anatomy where Doctor Bailey finally gets the chief resident position because the Chief finally as he says "I see the work you do around here, the way things function, and the way it happens" and she says "I didn't think you would ever see. I didn't think you would notice." And then bursts into tears. Well, I start bawling too. Because that's how I feel when I get noticed. Like when I had my review at work. It's just a great feeling when someone sees you. Not just the outer you that encompasses who you are but that inner sunlight, moonlight, sparkle, love, wonder or amazing. That energy that causes chemical reactions. The technology of the heart that pushes a person to walk with wounds. All the people who see me, aren't here, and most of them didn't see me when I was right there in front of them. But now when I go home, I wonder why I wanted to leave. But then I realize how miserable I was or think about the actual mystique of rest of the world beyond Erie County. This summer was really hard. Really hard. As that song goes, "I am rosemary's granddaughter, the spitting image of my father, and when the day is done, my mama's still my biggest fan....Some times I'm clueless and clumsy, but I've got friends who love me, and they know where I stand." Man, this summer was really hard. And it seems like tomorrow, or tomorrows is even harder. Because I really don't know how much my heart can take thinking about going to where one type of love is. I need more than family (and by family, I include my friends and the the family I've built). I need love, and friends. I need silly nights out drunk, and riding the subway, and digital cameras. I do worry that something bad might happen to me when I pass out drunk on the subway, and my unconscious body rides it from Brooklyn and the Bronx, or vice versa until I wake up, but well until someone wants to take that trip with me? It's a risk I'll have to take, until someone wants to take that trip with me. Lord knows I've tried rounding up chums for happy hour, after happy hour, the love below, and all those sorts of things, and end up alone. The same sort of risks that make a person type something like this ridiculously long live journal entry, when he should be preparing for school tomorrow, or even more appropriately taking his tired black ass to sleep. And I will. But after I quote James Blunt and say "So I'm standing all alone, and I'm only skin and bone. Why don't you give me some love? I've taken a shitload of drugs. I'm so tired of never fixing the pain. And the young said to me, I'll take you seriously....And we'll come back as someone else...whose better than yourself."
Until yesterday and much love.