TheJohnnyspot WILL return shortly, with new perspectives, new photos, new ideas in my new posts…promise. = )
UP/DOWN & IN/OUT
I see them in movies, I read about them in books and magazines, I watch them walk by hand in hand. Cuddling, fucking, laughing, sighing, tickling each other, wishing they were flying away together. I am focused, OK, maybe obsessed with duos.
Couples, through and through and through it all yet I get so frustrated with being solo…still…that I’ve begun to realize while others ARE already matched, I wonder curiously why am I not just like that? If I put as much time into a career for myself as I have drinking, fucking, thinkin’ and smoking my way through pages of journals and posts on here I’d at least have that to keep me company on the cold nights that crawl on by year after year; so familiar I expect my written words to call me by name. But it never happens.
I was on a train recently coming from a friend’s house when I noticed a guy, about my age (OK, younger!) hopping on board. Just him, in a pair of shorts and t-shirt that were slightly sweated upon, and he sat on a seat facing the direction I am facing. He’s actually riding so the outside is rolling by backwards while I see everything going forward.
He’s super cute, in my opinion, and I bet he’s heading home from the gym after an afternoon of letting all the shit from the day he spent fall away. No wonder he’s sweaty. I watch him, while reading my “hello mr.” magazine curious to who he’ll gaze or rather, look, at. Will he check out boys or girls getting on, or off I guess, free to smile, or speak as he sees fit?
I catch him looking at me for a second, remember, I’m just a guy reading across the train car, and his eyes “say”….well they say nothing. He looks out the window, rubbing his forehead & shutting his eyes for a second, then looking back out.
The article I’m reading in “hello mr.” magazine is also about a man’s habit or obsession, except in the piece it’s with Instagram, the Facebook for photos. The article, titled “Infinite Scroll: Always Looking” begins with “I’ve been single for nearly two years in New York City. That, coupled with the slow crawl to thirty…” I immediately feel a connection with this author as I too have been single for two years now, I once lived in New York City, and I experienced the “crawl to thirty,” and the “skip to forty” and well…. there’s a connection between us, totally, because I feel it.
The author goes on to write about the evening in his apartment, solo also, and his take on Instagramming, the “scroll that proceeds is second nature” to him (more connection!) and what he “likes,” what he’s thinking while scrolling, and then, unusual point of view, he wonders “how is a relationship different when it has an audience?”
This is my first time to read “hello mr.” and while I’m not curious about what the author is curious about, I’m actually feeling just like said audience member while watching the sweaty guy across the train. The author goes on to mention several Instagramers, who it seems have 1000s more followers than I do on the site, and, what fascinates and also hooks him on watching these popular photo posts. Actually naming two couples by name, with their Instagram handles written out, he says “these men are matching-tattoo-level in love. Their Instagram feeds are are a less-than-true reflection of a nevertheless true romance.”
More connection as he is a single man in a well-known, infamous, big city, at home on a perpetually “right night” to go out on, wondering what’s the real deal with these I bet-hip and obviously popular, gay couples and their actual relationships. Shit, I’m doing exactly the same thing except in a different city, on a train heading home, oogling the hot, sweaty man in this traincar, wondering what his actual day was like, or will be like, right now!
Suddenly I’m jump-skipping all over my (life) history remembering old partners who came home sweaty from their own workout, or ones I wanted to partner with who chose another option, I mean, their own man, and my own actual Instagram friends, coupled or not. And in a way I am scrolling through the memory-feeds that are in my head and if I wasn’t on Wellbutron, I’d be tearing up, sad to prepare my walk away from this man here, just as I have with more men than I can count on my fingers. Ugh.
I grab my phone ☎ and send myself a text that reads “I’m a man who doesn’t just look at hot men coming back from the gym as pretty. I look at them as examples of what I am not and think “He must have the most beautiful husband at home. Wonder if he’s looking at me with similar interests and thoughts?”
In the past I would have moved closer to this guy, sat by him and asked “Where do you workout around here?” or brought up Instagram. Something to break the non-existent ice! But instead, I look out my own window, wish all the peeps in my thoughts a “great day” and jot down a final text to myself:”I want to have the ultimate romance story happen with me in it, meeting a man of my dreams in the weirdest way, falling in love anyway and getting together regardless of real life crap like trying and still getting sexually denied or, as often, frowned upon because I’m not his type.
Ugh. I go back to reading and think “Whether I’m up or down, in or out, I am worthwhile, I am a great fuck and an even better repeat dinner date. But, I keep on going solo, still holding a hope that “my” guy IS out there on his own train, wondering where “the single man in his forties, reading “hello mr.” is” as he stands to step off.
Summertime and there is not a drop in the sky or upon the ground here in Portland. It’s Summer after all and I suppose it matters not where you live, visit or awaken, clarity is the name, or rather a name of the weather game. Four seasons is not what I have truly become used to after 30 + years in the city of Houston.
But I no longer live in Houston, at least for now, but I’ll refrain from hoping, praying, guessing, pleading about where I will or shall be in the future. Today, Friday July 11, I am in the beautiful Northwest of these United States. It is exactly where I hoped, prayed, plead and guessed I would be beginning in August of 2013. Be careful what you wish, hope, pray, etc….for, as they say because it often rolls out as you want. Big lesson I’ve been gifted with since my arrival in the first week of March 2014? I’m human.
I’m impatient, judgemental, self-centered, jealous and I only actually learn anything as I look back upon it, never AS it is happening. Grateful I’ve come to understand that obvious piece of reality that I have no doubt most people learn as a child, teenager, young adult or actual adult.-“Better late than never!” #truth
I’m very happy that I can sit here today and thoughtfully compose this entry for “Come Undone” a title I came up with nearly 4 years ago and one I love even more today. Walk through your life long enough and when you reflect back on each experience, experiment, exchange or emergency I suppose clarity is not only a gift but a gratitude seed. If you’re eased or sober or hopefully both as I have been.
I’m not complaining though it may seem like I am. I AM happy, filled with SO much within my vision and day to day….days, that I’m pretty sure the epiphanies I have/had/am having are moments that cause most people to say “Well D’UH!”
I dunno. Maybe I have never fully recovered from the accident that I was a part of back in November of 2013. I was unconscious for 6 weeks. Not actually unaware but if you ask me about December 2013 I’d be lying if I told you one moment from that month. Oh I had preplanned a LOT, specifically moving the fuck out of Houston, out of all the shadows and graves of the people, places and things I had created, mostly when I was high on drugs or wasted on alcohol, but having made it “through” all of my own creations,
I WAS READY to recreate my life as I wanted it to be. As I wanted myself to be. As I wanted my boyfriend and my friends to be. All while giving from myself the pages and pages of “hard lessons of life” I did indeed go through, walk through….or maybe flee from is the best way to say it. It was done and so was I so time to move and share and regrow.
Haha, well if you have ever paid attention to the fields of fresh fruits in the lands around you you’ll know they are usually filled with fresh manure, shut actually, at least in the beginning to assure that the planted seeds will prosper and flower fully with blooms of every size, color and shape possible.
Basically the way tools are and the way it is, or at very least, smells, are 2 very different things. Which would you prefer? Bet I know.
Upon my actual awakening I figured something out. It’s written how exactly as I shared it with my friends on Facebook. Thought my WordPress friends deserved the same honest gift since you have stayed and read with me for quite some time. I THANK and APPRECIATE each of you. Overdue I know but better late than never. No, never is never the right time. But today, all that I actually have, is.
MAY 24 2014, near Portland, OR.
I’ve had an epiphany. I have been a TERRIBLE friend and man for a long time, especially the last 3 years; One who instantly judges and defines people because of my own deep-seeded fears.
By defining you before really “knowing” or accepting you (as you truly are) I thought I was saving myself of a lot of trouble and eventual heartache. “Well fuck them, they don’t really like me anyway,” “Ugh. He’s so crappy, good thing I never became my real self on front him.” You get the idea, right?
I did not. Instead of saving trouble & heartache I CAUSED IT. I pushed all of you and so many more AWAY thinking I was in the right. I was so VERY wrong. And it only took me 2000 miles or more from y’all to finally see myself.
I AM TRULY SORRY. I ask for your forgiveness and hope that I can change all the wreckage from “then” and stop it from happening now. —feelingweak.
I had a “Viewmaster” toy while growing up. I loved popping a round set of photos into it and click, click, clicking from one side of the world to another, without ever having to go anywhere except my imagination. SEEING and BEING aren’t just spelled differently, they ARE different. So what are you?
Seeing isn’t being, doing IS.
Well if “misery loves company” then that shit is as much a lie as anything else I’ve seen, heard or been in total agreement with. Agreement seems too easy to say or write. I. Am Disgusted. With….because….despite…everything. Nothing. Sure as shit does not matter what I type into these keys upon my Samsung phone, the phone I saved and spent on almost 2 years ago for. Yay, right? RIGHT? You don’t care…about it or me or much of/about anything is what it seems.
I jumped off Facebook tonight, sick of reading post after post from men and women, some, many whom I adore. Who I eagerly check in or with via posts day after day after day after….well shit, they just never quit. Oh yeah some quit the book for reasons never fully explained or apparently get so busy with life on a daily basis they don’t have or make…take, I guess, the time anymore to “keep in touch” with the rest of us, of “me” certainly, or (as I suspect) become so busy every day with their life as it is that we, I, all of “us” are just too “who gives a fuck?” to bother.
And frankly, actually, WHY BOTHER. It sure as shit doesn’t matter a fucking bit to worry, wish, bother or care…much less “like,” comment, call, text or God forbid, CRY about any of it. Of you. YOU certainly don’t.
Over 4 years ago I nearly drank myself to death. Killed my liver, almost myself, most of my brain and was not expected to survive for the weekend I was forced, or die, to enter the hospital. “He’s not going to survive” was the common judgement on my self-created condition. And when miraculously I DID survive that first weekend it was soon forecasted that, yes I did live through the first couple of days, but the future, MY future didn’t look very promising.
My mom and family was convinced to prepare for the worst, at least physically and mentally for my said future. The doctor and nurses all agreed that I was a lost cause, no chance for any life to be lived.
But….I did make it. 2 months in the ‘all is hopeless’ unit and close the door. Right? RIGHT? Yeah, right.
But God had different plans for me. I was eventually released from the Alzheimer unit of the “ward” I had been moved into and released into my own “care.”
I had done my homework and chosen Rehab. The 24-hour, 30-day home I had been accepted to was ready for me. So I went….for 10 days until I was so sick of being picked on and messed with I decided “Fuck this” and I left.
4 years later, in February of 2014, less than a year ago I was ready for an actual rebirth so I moved to Portland, Oregon, after….wait for it, I had been run over by a friend’s truck while on my scooter and hospitalized, YET AGAIN, with body and mind injuries that had the medical community expecting me to not make it or maybe “just make it” with a brain injury that would leave me suffering or sucking, not dick (as I often want or wish) but just as a man less than….than I am today.
Yep. I made it. Moved to Portland and jumped into it and the AA scene and any that accepted me full on. And? IT SUCKED. It didn’t seem that anybody really cared, not enough to call or contact me to be ‘a part of’ any group or scene that they were of or with.
And so after almost 5 months of devotion to AA and the peeps (ok, guys) I’d become ‘friends’ with I realized “I didn’t survive everything from HIV, to alcoholism, to depression to being alone, AGAIN, to beg for all of your acceptance. God and I had walked through a LOT and I didn’t want, certainly not need, ANY of you or this. Nope. Done fine without any of you so far so…BYE.
Looking at my day to day, what I had achieved and what was going on or the LACK THERE OF, I listened to my new doctor’s comments on my much, much improved health and possible future and decided: enough. Nobody cares, actually, honestly, about, with, by or for me do they? Once again it’s Jesus and myself walking together and not that any of you care enough to call, write, message or reach out to me. Fuck the new people here don’t much less you that I’ve known for nearly 4 years, much less a handful of you who I have known and dated and loved and opened up to for the last 15-20 years! Excuse me but FUCK YO…FUCK NO.
“Alone again, naturally” pops into mind.
OHHH BOO HOO I hear some of you saying, laughing, screaming. And I think “Well, yeah. WTF did you think, hope or want, fucker?”
I’ll tell you. I wanted a phone call. An invitation. A sweet or maybe a rough kiss on my lips late at night…on a beach or in a river. I wanted to MISS SONEONE as much as I WAS BEING MISSED. God, a “Hey how are you, where you been?” call maybe?
Know what? Good fucking luck. Because it’s most likely NOT happening baby.
People, women, relatives, men-gay or straight (UGH who cares!) are BUSY. Busy living, loving or fucking, or looking to live love and fuck with whomever they deem worthy today, Friday, September 20th 2014.
AND. I AND YOU ARE NOT A PART OF THEM.
Need a phone call? Get in line, there’s 1000 people ahead of you, again.
BOO-GOO, again. Kiss yourself good night, again.
It’s a clear, beautiful Fall Friday afternoon and though the clouds have been holding on to the sky for much of the day so far, they are not, as they often do in Spring or Winter, opening up. Reality. Not a word or a truth I have ever completely embraced or practiced in my life, however in 2014, from the moment I came to in a (surprise!) a hospital room, it has been at the forefront of my day. Today. And Today. And Today. You understand, right?
Or maybe you do not understand. It took me so much living of my actual life to ever sense, embrace and calmly hold the appreciation I now have for the day-to-day reality I live in. Things change, often BAM quicker than one can have an actual realization of WTF is going on. That’s how life is. Unless you decide you’re done and take it upon yourself to end this life. NOW. Why does anyone ever decide to breakdown and give up this life each of us has been given? If you are alive in a war-torn city or country, or riddled with poverty, disease…both? Maybe. Worse, if you are just with yourself, single, lonely, wishing for someone to be with, even if for just a moment? Then your reasoning to check out is much more understood.
But what if you “have everything?” Health, wealth, children, wife or wives, popularity, success, even an Oscar? THAT’S A LOT by anyone’s perspective regardless of if you “have nothing” except trouble, terror and torn up tales.
I wrote all of what you’ll read below, recently, on a day when I was wondering and worrying and wishing things were different. I was pissed. Way unhappy with how things were or are. “Why me?” or worse ” Why NOT me?” I don’t have any clearer answer today for my questions than I did then.
Know what I do have? Another day. Another chance that some of what I longed for will come about. Perhaps not. BUT you and I will get to SEE WHAT does happen.
Robin Williams, a man with what most people will agree is, or was rather, blessed beyond believability, sliced his wrist and then hung himself Monday. 4 days ago he decided “NO MORE” and he left. He left all of us with…..questions. Too many “Why?” and not enough “Why Not Laugh?” It fucking sucks and is sad and unanswerable. But he’s gone. I’m not and neither are you. So, now what? To be continued, for real.
This is the 2nd note to myself I’m writing. Have no idea what happened to the other one. I had a huge realization as I watched a brand new Kia drive by the store front window where I work. My jealous, envious mindset started screaming “Why don’t I have one!!”
“OH YEAH because I don’t have the money to get one because I need to have money saved for a purchase that size. Because I don’t have a career. In fact I have FAILED at everything I attempted: relationships, boyfriends, jobs, career, art, even AA. Shit I wrote this out a few minutes before now and it “disappeared” just as I was going to send myself a copy ’cause my very own thoughts are too revealing for even myself.!” GRRRRRRRRR.
And the biggest thing I came to understand about myself, today at least, is it wouldn’t have mattered if I did have the car, driving on the way home from a job that matters, that I enjoy. Nope because I’d still be so envious, jealous and wanting things I can’t afford or create myself. No man. No art. No acting. No friends. Just my 3 cats to go home to and 2 of them are older and 1 of those 2 is not really being herself lately. She’s going to pass away, they all are. I AM. Prayer and Faith in that which I believe in but do not ever see is all I have. No brothers or father anymore. Just myself and tears welling up to such a depth that I am miserable with this life that I have “made it” in. Now what? There’s no escaping that which really is today no matter what I drink, smoke do or don’t do. The end.
Except it isn’t the end. Almost 25 years ago when I tested HIV positive I had an ocean of thoughts, fears and sadness. I figured they who had told me and the people whose articles I had read about HIV knew way more than I did about my diagnosis and what was getting ready to happen to me. I believed everything I had read, heard, saw on TV or watched happen with other Positive men and I was scared. I was only 25 and had lived a lot of life, some of it on MTV in Manhattan when I lived there and felt I was on the edge of cracking open the box filled with, tada, my future. Future love, companions, money, direction, and fame of some sort.
Why I am still acting like that 25-year-old hoper, wisher, believer in “the best, after lessons, natch” today?
I honestly don’t know.
What. Am. I. Here. For? What can I be? Who… or better yet Why??? But the bottom line is I am still wandering around waiting on Him, Me, You….someone to show me, tell me, or ugh…give me my destiny, destination, my reason for making it through this drug addiction, alcoholism, 2 two-month long hospital stays where my death wasn’t an if but a when and more jobs than I can even remember!
going to live to see my reality, my actual downfall, in all its glory. Plastered across everywhere including all the social media spots ever invented. SEE?? HE WAS ALWAYS A DISGUSTING FAILURE AND NOW HE’S ON THE STREET, WITH NOTHING AND NO ONE. PATHETIC.
I came to Portland, Oregon because I visited here 1 week in September of 2013 after writing a scathing post regarding my desperation and hatred on my “life” as it was or seemed to be that very day.
The night I left The Eagle in Houston after wearing a leather harness and tight jeans, ready to dance and flirt and go home with some big, hip man and fuck like I HAD made it. Only instead to be ignored, completely, by the men I knew and worse, by the new one’s I did not know. Months of working out, staying sober, being as peaceful and appreciative as was possible, prayerfully giving my fear and disappointment to God knowing He had a plan, or else why keep me alive through ALL this just to drop me tonight when I looked, felt, was happy. Understood. Needed.
And I got nothing.
My visit to Portland, staying with my dear friend, Tony, who I had used and mistreated and underappreciated, but who I had become friends with again. Living in Portland with his very kind, very handsome husband, I was invited to come see what Tony had been telling me for quite some time was a beautiful, welcoming, fun and free city in the Northwest. So I bought a ticket and came. And from the moment I first saw the downtown skyline against the background of hills and river, later catching Mount Hood gleaming in the distance with PDX in its shadows, I knew I had found it. THE city I had been getting my shit together to not just visit but MOVE to. I enjoyed an amazing week of job interviews, restaurants, mountains, waterfalls, and more “just gay” guys and gals than I had ever seen including one guy, on his birthday, that I spent the night with. Success! I’m coming ASAP!
Except after I moved here I quickly had those rose-colored glasses removed from my eyes and the day-to-day city of Portland was BOOM, here. And there I was, more disappointed and unsure now of WTF AM I GOING TO DO than ever.
I don’t know. Jobs are here, I am becoming acquainted with them and with where I want to live, work, play, all of it. It’s right there. And yet I remain here. WTF is right. The “W” can stand for “What,” “Who,” “Where” or “Why” and I can only honestly answer I. Don’t. Know. The end. Again.
What do you believe is “deserved?” By you, to you, for you…or for others that you see or hear or more likely, that you know?
For years I was certain of what I deserved, what you deserved, what everyone I knew deserved because I’m a man with precise attention, time and opinions on everything. I had watched the world play out in front of me, WITH me and I was good with it all. I really believed that I was “good with my life” and lived accordingly.
Then I began receiving what I REAPED… from my actual actions.
Quickly (it seemed) I became single in the “best” years of my life and then lost my career, my friends, family and finally my mental and physical health.
If you’ve read here before you know this story (if not peruse the previous posts) that I not only recovered but I grew. As a man, as a friend, as a brother and son.
It lead me to what I mention below: Portland, Oregon in September 2013. All the trouble and disappointment I had been through was wiped away (I thought) and I suddenly had a new goal and purpose: leaving Houston and remaking my life in PDX but this time I would be consciously sober, sane and selfless.
I swear I thought all I’m writing about was the truth.
There are actual truths in this post but as I learned days ago, God did (does) have a plan with and for me but that actual plan is wide open and full of so much reality that I would not have come to Portland had I known what was going to happen. I’m glad I did. I’d never have listened otherwise.
I got, am getting what I ACTUALLY DESERVE. Lesson after lesson of how it really is in my life. What I “wanted.” I’m not mad or feeling mistreated at all. I’m grateful God loves me enough to tell me…SHOW me the truth. I deserve it.
This is a story about what I thought was going to be love with a man, THE man I believed was meant for me for real. In a way he was “meant for me” but for reasons I never even knew I had or needed. But I did and hopefully you will learn your own truths and reasons by reading this.
-ACTUAL EMAILS BELOW WITH “THE” MAN AND MYSELF WITH EDITS FOR HIS PRIVACY-
On Jun 27, 2014, at 11:06 PM, Johnny Hooks wrote:
I haven’t had the awesome time with you that I have thought about (often) since I first handed you the “You’re the Fucking Man” card in March.
When I first saw you I had only recently moved to Portland from Houston. I came to this city last September after my longtime friend, Tony, invited me here after I blew up (via Facebook) on my experiences (or lack of them) in Houston in 2013.
I had been taking care of myself, especially my body, and I was proud of what I had physically achieved for the first time in several years; only to be completely ignored night after night that I went out in town and while dancing.
For the first time ever I wore one a leather harness to The Eagle in HTX when I went out dancing. I’m a great dancer, have been for a long time and it is one way that I release the stress of life itself, by hitting the dance floor for literally hours at a time, usually only stopping at night’s end or just to grab a water or 10 or tear off a soaking wet shirt. Really.
But on that particular night I was FURIOUS. I had worked so hard on my look for months, expecting to be sought after by some of the “cool” guys I saw every week.
Expectations are THE way to set oneself up for disappointment, I have learned, and I have (had) them about almost everything: my art, photography, success in work, and, yep, guys. Certainly guys I liked, admired or had crushes on…usually all 3 with one guy.
Long story but Tony invited me to visit Portland, I accepted and came in that month and fell SO into this new city I had heard of but had never been to.
I was here a week for perfect, warm yet coolish days and nights (with NO humidity!); a live show at Doug Fir with 2 new girlfriends; then seeing a band I loved who made no Houston visits, “HEM” at the Aladdin Theater; dinners and coffees all over; I even went out to a queer club here by myself and met a group of nice, talkative gay guys, one celebrating his birthday and was went to Silverado with him and his buddy.
I also went home with him alone and stayed till 9 am having a sweet but dirty and “fucking” fun time, no puns intended.
I knew immediately this was where I needed to be, to live, to recreate my life, here in this beautiful, cool, hip and friendly town. It was perfect and I was becoming friends with people at the Alano Club here just like I had at Lambda in Houston. Yay!
There’s more to my journey here: being run over on my scooter in HTX weeks before I was leaving and the 2 month hospital stay, my job changes, and an unending determinstion to “GO” there (here) no matter what.
But I hope to talk to you in person about this. At dinner. And after, when we are walking home. Before bed when we are both naked and all over each other, as if we are hungry for each other like never before. The “first” time one more time, ya know?
I want to be with you. Inside each other, with my tongue, with my hands, with my cock. And vice versa. And as mentioned I have been thinking about this happening with us for 3 months. More.
BUT. I have no idea what I am doing wrong. I kept thinking I was imagining how I was misreading you. On the way home from seeing you so many times I was floating!
I just knew (or thought) you were an answer to a long standing prayer I had about meeting “the guy” and us being together, once again in my life. I kept from telling you this much detail because I was afraid I would say too much or upset you…in one way or another.
I decided I was wrong, that I pretended to think you really were as attracted to me as I was (AM) to you. That after moving here I realized first hand that everything that had happened with (to) me in September 2013 had been coincidences that I took as fate or “meant to be” moments.
And then realizing I was wrong about you too? It was the last straw I felt I had left only to have it cracked in two while I held it.
So XXXX. I have read your Tumbr and seen your full name and read a few of your own thoughts about stuff…about life.
You’ve now read mine and I have more to talk with you about. Over coffee. Or with my hands on your beautiful face or chest…or both.
So XXXX, interested now? I’m a big boy. I wont break. Just tell me your truth like I’ve told you mine. We’ll at least have that and no one will crack it into pieces while we hold it.
Another message Galaxy Noted!
XXXXX Edwards wrote:
Thanks for writing me you dancing machine. I also LOVE to dance haha
Well if you have been on my Tumblr, you’d know that I have a boyfriend.
I know I’m an amazing guy, and it’s because momma raised me right lol.
I’m one of the few loyal men there are.
That being said, I can tell you’re a swell guy, and I’m sure your brain is super complex and interesting.
All I can offer you is friendship. Which is something I find will be more valuable than a trial and error relationship. I’ve been with the guy I’m seeing for about a year, not including a month separation. I live with him in a house with a few other gay dudes. We’re moving into our very own place next week. I start beauty school in September and when I’m done with that, I plan on getting my career going and proposing to this man.
I’m a young 21 year old man who has aspirations for a bright future. I’m polite, kind, friendly, respectful and down to earth.
I say put the romance novel down and grab a beer. I’m just a regular guy who you could be good friends with.
Hope to hear from ya
Ps: thanks for the photos, someone here is gonna love the hell out of ya.
Sent from my iPhone
On Jun 28, 2014, at 5:47 PM, Johnny Hooks wrote:
Glad the truths were told. Congrats on the partner, he’s a lucky man.
Appreciate you lending your hand for friendship too, but I know I can’t.
My only goal now is departure and while it will take patience and God’s blessings, I am unafraid.
From: “XXXXXX Edwards”
Date: Jun 28, 2014 6:11 PM
Subject: Re: Coffee…” is delicious.
To: “Johnny Hooks”
What happens next? July is hours away and my life recreation begins. Again.
May. In Portland. Tick and tock boy I used to hate the click. Oops, of course I meant clock but actually click works, too.
Days run 24 hours and they run daily…having been run over by a truck I know how “no shit” that sounds but lemme roll with my thoughts on time for a second (haha…SEE?) and I bet you’ll have a thought or 50, too.
I promise to lay off the “too” word, too.
There are a lot of people in this world and more and more in my sphere or the PDX sphere, rather that I run into. Not actually RUN into but our paths cross walking from here to there, catching the bus or train. Even grabbing a jet to get you there? People join on their way there.
Do you care? Do you get disappointed by the attention lacking or bones tired from packing? How about how you got your hair fixed or forgot to fix but certainly are reminded of the moment your eyes spy a similar looking man or woman right in front of you? And do they notice you back?
Who knows? Oh people know many things. Like the things you know that they MUST notice: your hair, eyes, smile..maybe that Kate or Jack Spade piece? Or how about your frustration, degradation, anticipation? Or as you actually suspect, everyone is doing and going so far, so fast with such an agenda they don’t know shit.
Act like shits? Oh yes, that behavior is easy to see but I find that ADMITTING my own shitty way of acting is super tough. My shitty thinking? WORSE to perceive and even worse to understand and EVEN WORSE to prevent.
“Why should I care?” is a common problem thought that flies around my mind. “Who the fuck are these people, totally in my way, with nothing to do but look at and judge me and….” Oh wait. That’s me I’m thinking about. Ugh. Stupid thoughts, leave me alone I didn’t need you back.