UP/DOWN & IN/OUT

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.

29Wishes

i wish you’d believe in fairy tales like i do

i wish we could go camping by a lake

i wish you weren’t my first thought when I wake

i wish you would call me when you’re blue

i wish i knew how to quit you

i wish i made you laugh till you cried

i wish we could go on a vacation to the mountains

i wish we were at a party and i caught you staring at me

i wish i woke up with you every day that ends with the letter “y”

i wish you would visit me at work without checking

i wish on morning’s i woke up alone that you’d text that you miss me

i wish we had a favorite climbing tree

i wish i was the one you called when your belly rumbled hungry

i wish we could sleep in when the skies are grey

i wish you had never been hurt by him

i wish you were my best friend

i wish i could ease your fears

i wish i had known you in high school

i wish i could hold you when you cry

i wish i smelled like your cologne

i wish we lived in our own home

i wish i knew your mom and dad

i wish you’d be there when i am sad

i wish we’d share our morning runs

i wish you kissed my neck in that spot

i wish we’d get caught in a rainstorm

i wish i was your morning kiss

i wish you’d miss me like this

i wish i didn’t have this list.

A Wanted Man

The hairs on the back of my neck started to stand up when I got out of bed this morning. Something sweeps over me now, since I’ve gotten sober, when there’s a full moon. I didn’t even know it was, I didn’t see it, I felt it. Tonight I felt like a ship that has become unmoored but remains in the harbor, still anchored down but knocking really hard over and over, against the dock. BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM, BAM!

As I do when I feel like this, I rode around on my scooter for a couple of hours tonight, all over Houston through the Medical Center, Downtown, Midtown, Montrose, the Museum District, Rice University, with my earbuds in and playlist I have called “I AM A PHOENIX.” Read my various playlist track listings and you’d know a lot about me. Talk about a window to the soul. If anyone ever did read them. If anyone cared to, which they fucking don’t. I made tapes for guys when I was younger. My friends used to tease me about it. “Have you made a tape for him, yet?” Even then music said things better than I could, so why not listen and get to know me? Know what I wanted to say.

“I AM A PHOENIX.” As in rising from the ashes. Returned from the dead in a burst of glory and flame. See, I maintain this absolute belief that I and everything in my life will be alright. Not perfect, hardly. But that despite every tear, every morning I wake holding my pillows, all the sleepless nights, the movies seen alone, the dinners eaten by myself, all the miles traveled, all the stupid shit I’ve done, that, yes, Love (capital L) will rise again in my life. And I will rise up to meet it. Like a Phoenix .And it is going to last. God knows I am ready. But God ain’t telling what His plans are. Natch.

I can’t for a moment entertain the idea that it’s not all going to work out, that nights won’t be lonely forever, that every morning will be started making the bed up with someone, instead of leaving it unmade because it’s only me getting back in tonight anyway. Because, if I fail to hold it onto that certainty, even for a second… well, I am afraid of what I would do, what would happen. I visualize those moments of wavering faith like the cityscapes folding into themselves in the film “Inception.” The whole fucking world would just begin to implode and cease to be. My music keeps those thoughts, those Universe-imploding destruction’s, at bay.

Someone can only break your heart if you give it to them, and therefore your permission, so I own that this shit, this unmooring of my ship while holding onto the dock is all me . But I also know I am not alone, I hear it in the words of other believers, I read it in the hopeless romantic-written books and I see it in movies.  I saw a fantastic new film last night, “The Spectacular Now” based on the book by the same name. It resonated with me as much as “Perks of Being a Wallflower” did last year. One of the lines (and there were many) that I loved, that hit me between the eyes was “You know, you’ll always be my favorite ex-boyfriend, Sutter. No one will ever take that away.” OUCH.

While I don’t know if anyone considers me their favorite ex, what struck me about that line were the many men in my life who might say that, who could say that. The guys who have for one reason or another, been unable, unwilling to commit to me. To get onboard. To run the streets with me like Holmes and Watson or Lestat and Louis. I’ve seen them move on from me and do it with others and that tells me, it’s me. One of them told me once “Johnny, your love is big and scary and I don’t think I can stand up to your expectations of me, of it, of us.” Ouch, again. I always thought an unfailing belief in someone, believing for them that they can stand up until they are able to believe it themselves, was a good thing.  All my exes? They do not see this as such a good thing. It’s a scary thing. Ouch.

But what has become really clear to me recently, is that while my love may be “big and scary,” my ass is in hot demand. My ass is worth a return visit. My ass isn’t scary at all. Oh yeah, I got guys beating down my door for a piece of that part of my anatomy. They don’t get it, but they want it. My heart, above my ass and to the left? Not so much. And you know what? It’s been that way since the man on the beach took it when I was 10. 

“The Spectacular Now” is the story of 2 high school seniors, one, Sutter, the ‘Ferris Bueller‘ of his school and the other, Aimee, the virgin sci-fi, anime geek who falls under his spell as he tells her she is beautiful and later takes her virginity while she looks up at him, so wide-eyed, so innocent and untarnished? As she encourages him to dream, pushes him to stand up to his mother and find his father, I saw myself. In both characters. Oh did I mention Sutter is a teenage alcoholic, just like his father? That Sutter doesn’t want to think about the future, much less plan it because he’d rather live in “the spectacular now” instead of facing his fears. “I don’t remember a time I wasn’t afraid”  he says. That line laid me out. I lived that way for decades. Not anymore.

Watching Aimee fall in love with Sutter, focusing on the ways he enables her to change the course of her life? Hanging her star on his wagon, making plans to leave their small town with him and start again in Philadelphia, all while he has no intention of going? More ouch. The film is funny and searing and brilliant, a twisted, heartfelt but ultimately warts and all take on the sunny, quirky, all’s well that ends well John Hughes‘ films I grew up with. The geek gets the girl and they go off to college together. Right? Yeah, right.

The other thing I thought about during the film, was even though I did have the tender, look up into the eyes of the boy I was in love with losing-my-virginity-moment, my innocence had been taken from me long before then.  My life as a kid was sexualized from 4th grade on. Then by that man on the beach. By the bus driver at my middle school when I was 14. By my high school tennis team coach when I was 15. And you know what I learned from those moments with those men? That my ass was something wanted and that if I gave it up, maybe one of them would look down and notice me.  Each of those times, there I was below him, really just wanting him to love me, to choose me not for my ass, but because he loved ME.

And, as I sat watching the film last night, I could see that I thought if I gave my heart, my attention, my identity or some other “thing,” that in return I would be loved.  I thought about when I was in 8th grade I got my very first job so I could save up $100 to buy my girlfriend at the time, a diamond ring. IN THE 8TH GRADE. I thought about not using a condom sometime, somewhere in my early 20s because I didn’t have enough self-respect to say no and getting HIV, all because I was wanted.  I thought about when I wrote a hot check in San Francisco to buy my boyfriend a bracelet and an engraved box, which I filled with rose petals. About the umpteen times I have put me aside for the person I was “in love” with. Emphasis on those quote marks.

No one made me do anything I didn’t want to. I WANTED to express my feelings, to engage with someone, to see his face light up when he realized I had been listening when he mentioned a favorite band, movie, TV show, comic book, kind of flower or some shirt he saw in his favorite shop. But after watching the movie last night, suddenly I knew why. Because I am looking for a man to do the same thing for me. To hear me, to listen, to see through my fears and flattery and still stand by me. With me.  It’s about paying attention. It’s about noticing who I am before I am underneath him.  Calling just because, not because he has to, or should. It’s about being a man wanted…a wanted man. And not just for my ass.  For my big, scary heart. 

The White Wind

#ADDICTIONKILLS  #GIVEUPGIVEIN

The hounds are bloodied, and the horses grin

A poor frightened Fox, they’re right up on him

His tail is all torn, his face it’s too thin

He keeps running so fast but he just can’t win

Sound all the horns, release the damned men

The wrath of God, the call of sin

Push on the needle, smoke the white wind

You don’t have to stop if you never begin

Poor little Johnny, so trusting and fair

Pretending he’s Jesus, tries walking on air

His palms are both bleeding, got thorns in his hair

But he’s got no disciples, nobody that cares

Sound all the horns, release the damned men

The wrath of God, the call of sin

Push on the needle, smoke the wind

You don’t have to stop if you never begin

The streets are a beast, whose hunger is cheap

Just like that White Whale who swims in the deep

No angels go down there, just devils who creep

All paved with black headstones, no more secrets to keep

Blow down the horns, release the suffering men

The Grace of God, forgives all sin

Embrace the feeble, the broken on mend

You won’t keep suffering if you just give in

Sound all the horns, release the damned men

The wrath of God, the call of sin

Push on the needle, smoke the wind

You don’t have to stop if you never begin

Day 730 & The Point

On the occasion of my 730th day of continuous Sobriety….upon reflections of…. this past year has taught me much. I have good news and bad news. The bad news is Life never turns out the way I expect it to. The good news is, Life never turns out the way I expect it to! Or that I “deserve.” For today I have Love, Grace, a Community and a place to lay my head.

Kabbalah has shown me many mirrors from which I beheld wisdom in myself and therefore, others, such as: A great sage once told a student to carry two notes in his pocket at all times. In his right pocket, there he should put a note that said, “I am everything!” while in the left pocket another note read, “I am nothing!” In moments when the student felt he was greater than others, he was to read the note in his left pocket, but when he felt depressed or badly about himself, he was to read the inspirational message to his right. It’s an important lesson on maintaining balance within our consciousness. One who is spiritually evolved knows they are never any greater or any less than the person standing next to them.

I had the pleasure of meeting and hearing Pastor Jay Bakker of the Revolution Church tonight! Among the highlights of his fellowship with us tonight: Jesus our Savior imparted the following words that I know to be truer for me today than ever….grace and grateful and Love at work.  Thank You Jay!!!

“No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.” John 4: 7-12

“For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself. If you bite and devour each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other.” Galatians 5:14-15

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.”

I love this next stanza so much, it speaks to me on my entire life this year. Oh those ways I have put behind me and the mirrors I see in my rear-view and the ones ahead; and the love that is and was and will be.  “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthians 13

From the New Manner of Living I learned this: In real life there is going to be pain without any obvious cause, or misfortune even though we may have done nothing “wrong.” In meditation we can learn to deal with pain for what it is — just another feeling. It’s not the pain that’s the source of the problem — it’s our desire to get rid of the pain.

I need to understand and accept that the journey of spiritual progress will always be one of pain as well as pleasure.  “The spiritual life is never one of achievement: it is always one of letting go.”

This year I gave up; I continue letting go; I walk on, surer, but still seeking… into the unknown. But I gained love and that is the point. 

#gratitude #love #lessons #life #recovery

Born2Die/Born2Lie

“Come and take a walk on the wild side, Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain, You like your girls insane
Choose your last words, This is the last time, Cause You and I, We were born to die, We were born to die….” LANA DEL REY

“When he mated with Persephone in unspeakable union….

Hearken to my voice, O blessed one,and with your fair-girdled nymphs breathe on me in a spirit of perfect agape”.

The related motifs of a dying god and of a dying-and-rising god (also known as a death-rebirth-deity)

have appeared in diverse cultures. In the more commonly accepted motif of a dying god, the deity goes away and does not return.  

The less than widely accepted motif of a dying-and-rising god refers to a deity which returns, is resurrected or is reborn, in either a literal or symbolic sense.

Male examples include Jesus, and Dionysus, Me. Female examples include Inanna/Ishtar and Persephone, You.