Sunday, May 24

The Graduation Weekend

It's been enjoyable. Friday, I got free drinks, in this harsh economy I had to squeeze them out of drunkards. It worked well, cause tipsy people usually are ecstatic that you are moving into a part of life.

Then there are those who start off with, "It's a tough time to be going into the job market. . ." I usually try and counter with breaking into tears and falling to my knees, cursing God above. The second most common responses have been, "Grad school is a wise choice." These people are the ones who are older, have lived for sometime—They feel panic—but still maintain their employment. No one has denied them anything yet, except perhaps a raise, but they know that it's bad. I just wish I knew what I wanted to do for Grad school.

A strange BBQ in Park Slope brought delicious grilled food and more congratulations. I feel excited, but in this terrified way. I have my prospects lined up, a business card to a temp agency. A meeting on June 23rd with the Wardrobe Union about registering. That may sound less than stable, but this is life. I can't know more than 36 hours in advance of my life. . .

I've been on the go all weekend, sitting down for hours at a time, but only hours at that. I will not be kept still for more than 3-4 hours maximum. For the next appointment begins sooner rather than later.

Tonight is dinner with an English man and meeting friends for a steak that is $9.95. I can't resist that, especially on the first weekend of graduation, when tonight my drinks shall all be free. It's okay, things continue on for at least another six months. I look for a job and find one. End of story.

As for the Film Professor. The awkward night in bed together has sealed the fate. I went to therapy and discussed the events and was given a mild solution. If I'm busy though, I never have time to think about my loneliness. So I will keep moving, after just finishing my marathon.

Everyone has a degree these days, so I'm just following along with everyone else. I am reviewing my resume and going to appointments. I had a tooth filled and I helped some friends around the city. Busy, busy busy. People call on me and I have to run to them. I hate having to reel it in though. People do so many things that involve money and I have a limited fund. Oh, well. Sacrifices must be made.

Thursday, May 21

Post College Afterglow

Nineteen, a hot day in August. My parents move me to Brooklyn in a hurry, but with enough downtime for my father to make annoying commentary. This makes me wonder if his soul purpose in life is to annoy me. My mother is sobbing and my father wants to get home. Unlike other parents, they are not planning on spending the weekend of my orientation with me. I am not aware of it at the time, but my parents expect me to return home in a couple months. Defeated and upset about the way I am treated in this harsh city. There is no reason to prolong this goodbye, when we will be reuniting in a couple of months. My hair is much blonder back then.

Twenty, a cold day in January. I'm in my second year at Pratt and just discovering all I can about myself. I am losing focus in computer graphics and feeling suffocated from having lived in such a small town my entire life. I have met a boy who is introducing me to a new world--sexually. It's all so thrilling and exciting. I wonder how much of it I can explore and how I never really discovered any of this before. I want to have sex with as many different people as I can and I want to try as many drugs that I can get my hands on. I have lived such a sheltered life up to this point and I have this urge. I feel I am so behind everyone else, I need to catch up as quickly as possible. My pants were much baggier in those days.

Twenty-one, a cool afternoon in September. I am a theater major at Brooklyn College. I have part-time job and make good money. I am a mild drug addict. I am a big time sex object. This is the life I wanted to achieve and I could do it all in balance. I was doing it all. The thoughts I had then, seemed so logical. Yet, when I rethink them, they all seem so insane. I went through homelessness, scabies, HIV scares, etc. I had to survive by laughing and realizing how insane it all was. My life was a joke and that was the beginning of the problem. I began to find it more funny than serious. I found a lover who allowed me to be wild, but gave me the support I wanted. My glasses were rather thick back then.

Twenty-Two, a warm day in February. I am becoming a functional stoner. Life is good in so many ways. I've seen the other side of the world and I am almost through with school. I am seeing someone who is less ambiguous than the last man who broke my heart for a little while. I am clean off from drugs. Things are in a solid and comfortable place. My hair was much shaggier and unkempt.

I am on my way to Come Back Little Sheba and I get a phone call. Time changes and I lose focus. The days pass and more information is gained. The certainty of life begins to decieve. The relationship ends. I have no time to reflect on any of the events that have happened in the past few months. I breakdown and lose motivation. I want to sink into nothing. I want to get through because I have to. I don't give up, but my body begins to go into auto-pilot. I cry and brood. I don't know of a day when I can tell I will ever fully trust life again.

Twenty-Three, a hot day in May. I am sitting here in my room. I finished my last final in a record of 30 minutes, I think I did well. All the answers just came to me. I am lost in thoughts of the last five years. The ups and downs. I cannot help it, it had to happen eventually. It's been five years and what is five years in a life that is supposed to last at least fifty? At least fifty, probably more.

How did I develop into this person? I know everyone changes. For better or for worse. It's a journey we all take. Do other people have this simple story? Five paragraphs (maybe six) that you can draw key points, but skip on all the other stuff. There's so much more that happened. Yet, I can't remember it all. I will hold the things worth remembering and I will forget the stuff I wish to forget.

Keep on moving along. Nothing to see here.

Wednesday, May 20

On This Eve Before My Last Day

Tonight is the last full day I was a student, if you will. After tomorrow I will be through with college. For the time being.

To sit back and think of the ups and downs of the last five years would be enough to cause mental collapse. Last night I had the film professor spend the night and it was a dire mistake. I freaked out again. I feel bad, it was a fault on both sides. What was nice was I went to therapy and actually just talked about it and it was done.

I will send him an email telling him that I am emotionally retarded. I am torn down the middle. Go to LA and leave me here to heal myself. When you return perhaps I shall be a different person, but let's keep the short time that we had together as memories. Memories of what could have been. Let's not try and make it into something that cannot be.

Then it will be more poetic that way and less upsetting.

Onto other things. Like that of the end of college. It's over . . .I was told I need to pick the right exit music. What do I leave the campus, as my last thought? Rose's Turn? I'm Going Back? I can't decide. It'll come to me tomorrow after the final. I will find it. Probably something Nina Simone. It must be appropriate though. Just must.

Now some stream-of-conscience —
I see a door, it's a plain brown square with a single knob. It's nothing frightening aside from the large imposing shadow it casts towards me. Beyond the door is unknown, which is the terrifying part of it all. I know I need to go beyond this door, but I am afraid. Nervous. People say it's silly and that I look around and see everyone else has survived. Yet, this door has been something I've been working towards for years, weeks days and months. I will go through the door, but I am still nervous.

Monday, May 18

The Day Approaches

Two more finals. Then it's through! I have nothing to report.

Tonight is the first night actually being home in almost a week or so. Just going to sit in tonight and relax. I need that, to relax.

I missed the gayest day yesterday. The AIDS walk and the Pro-Gay Marriage Equality Walk where Audra McDonald did this:




I would have love to have been there. She's such a beautiful songstress. I'm glad she's on our side, but why wouldn't she be?

My roommate returns from Florida soon. That's exciting. I go to the Poconos sooner than that. I graduate college soonest of all. Now I'm finally going to sit down and watch Volver and increase my love for Penelope Cruz. Oh have I mentioned this yet and how excited I am . . .

Sunday, May 17

Who Out There Could Love You More Than I?

More working on the Film Short. I was an extra today and my sunburn from yesterday was very prevalent to the human eye.

The straight girls on this film love me. It's what I know I'm good with that I do, actors love me and my supervisors enjoy me. Now it's time to start getting paid for this work.

I went to Gaymer Birthday party. After finishing The Velvet Rage, I couldn't help but notice the room was full of people who were just like it was described. From the 19-year-old meth addict, who was sweet but in stage 2. To the sassy guy who argued with me about my tattoos. Oh it's like being a prophet. Only I can see the truth.

Then there was the moment where in their lack of conversation they would look to me. Cause I can always keep a conversation going. I looked back and said, "I have nothing to entertain you with right now." It made everyone stand there silently, and I felt okay with that.

I had loving friends there though, so that was worth it.

Tomorrow is my Philosophies of China and India final. This is not thrilling, since I've hardly studied. We shall see. I can't fail, I can only pass. Failing isn't written in the prophecy.

Thursday, May 14

A Trip To New Jersey

The ambien has kicked in, but that's what I need right now. A pill to stop me in my tracks.

Tomorrow I drive out to New Jersey and I have to work on another film short. Once again not being paid. It'll be fine.

I must go to class though, as 6 AM draws nigh.

The Professor of Film is calling me and asking how I am doing. It scares me because perhaps this is something more. Perhaps, I didn't scare him away. Maybe there is a chance something could happen. He also is afraid to hurt me, so he's being a friend.

The Sex-Addict has already mentioned, "If I found someone else, would you hate me?"

Darling, you're more fucked up than I am! And you're letting me down?! Hysterical.

Yesterday, I went to the beach on an unexpected journey. It was delightful. It helped me forget the bad news I've been learning as of late.

Finished The Velvet Rage. . .Girls we've got work to do.

Wednesday, May 13

Patterns — A Story of Loneliness

I've had three rather successful dates with this Film Professor. Tonight we saw a badly acted, but lesser known Tennessee Williams play: Vieux Carré. I really enjoyed the writing and he went some interesting places with it. It was his last Broadway play, and I wish I could see it with talent behind it.

As per my usual. The Film Professor is scared of my affliction. It makes them nervous, it always does and always will. No matter how many times I go through this, I still get upset. There's also his age vs. mine that seems to bother him. He is a good 20 years older than me. So I suppose I see that too. Then there is also the space, as he lives in Boston normally and is spending the rest of the summer in L.A.

A chance meeting in a bar a week ago. That concluded seven days later. It was a pleasant affair and it will be hard to let go of something that has clicked so easily. He can discuss theater and movies so easily. We speak so well to each other and the attraction is there.

All I hear in my mind is these words I once heard from a stranger in the night. "Someday you will want a normal life. Quit your ways before it's to late." I heard that such a long time ago and I can't help but feeling it's a curse. Like a warning uttered by a gypsy. He was telling me the truth, and I was to late. I was to late.

That's the part that hurts to most and makes me cry.

Sunday, May 10

Time Draws Nigh

The Velvet Rage is almost done. Not for me, but the book. Fascinating, the lot of it. It's obvious, but as the author says at some point. It's not always so obvious at the time. All the anger and hate I've been feeling towards myself. With this book making these issues known, it's helping me actually be able to articulate them for once.

I have two Sunday classes left, one of them being the final for Philosophies of India and China. That's the one final I'm terrified of, I don't know how I'll necessarily pass any of them. This ones gonna be the most difficult though. These two weeks will pass and suddenly it will all be done. With a hoot and a holler I will be done. Five years to get to a point of complete confusion.

In an ironic turn of events. I got a jury summons in the mail. They want me there on the day I walk in graduation. I laughed for a long while upon receiving that one. I'll postpone, but still. Hah!

I had a date on Friday. It was unexpected. I need to go back a few days though . . .

On Tuesday I visited my drag queen friend at a bar where she was hosting the night. It was rainy and empty when I entered. My friend came up and said, "Hi honey, wanna win $50 bucks in a Hot Package Contest?" Of course I said yes.

There was no competition and I stripped down to my undies. I won because it was me against a go-go boy and a mail clerk. Plus, I knew most of the people in the bar, still it was very empty. I could use the 50 bucks. After my lackluster performance I jumped off stage and an older man sitting near my friends was looking at me.

I mentioned I had Judy Garland tattoo'd on my rib cage and the man chimed in that he was so impressed that a person my age would have that sort of tattoo. That night I got drunk so incredibly quickly that I was highly talkative when he began our discussion.

Considering on Monday the Vespa-Rider decided to play the 5th in a long line of reoccurring situations. I was not going to deny a man's conversation. I was drinking and he was incredibly polite. I learned he was a film professor spending some time visiting friends in the city—he teaches in Boston—and he gave me his card. I thought nothing off it. I knew he was probably somewhere in his forties and in the lighting I couldn't tell if he was attractive or not. Plus, I was drunk.

I returned home and went to bed. I thought nothing of the polite gestures and figured it would end there. On Thursday, he called me to talk. It's been a while since a man could discuss theater, film and the arts. I told him I was 23 and I heard him have a small stroke over the phone. I told him not to worry, these things don't bother me.

I figured a date couldn't hurt. We set up plans for Friday. He learned from my stripping that I had a nice body, I'm unemployed and I have a Judy Garland tattoo. So he took me to dinner and the ballet.

Yes, dinner and the ballet. We spoke so eloquently and got along very well. I learned he was 44, but that doesn't bother me, as I said. He was a gentleman. After the ballet we walked around the park and held hands. We laid on the grass and made out. I told him no more that that, I have plenty to reveal in other days.

It was a positive experience overall. I'm taking it with a grain of salt and we shall see.

In other news, I had dinner with The ShyGuy. He was curt with me tonight because of his new medicine. I care about him more than he possibly will ever know. I don't like to be scolded for simple things and I told him, "I'm going home after dinner." He apologized, but it hurt me. He's already so hard to read, I don't need to suffer from anything more. He knows this, it's funny what we feel for ones we care about.

Wednesday, May 6

March of the Falsettos

I'm going to just voice some thoughts. It's more just to get them out of my head because they are not worth dwelling on. It's not necessarily worth doing, but since I began to read The Velvet Rage. Which I love and hate my Australian friend for sending me.

It's a self-help book isn't it? Oh it's going to make me question myself! Damn you! To hell! Yet, it won't be a bad thing, it'll be nice to know. It's already helped my mindset in realizing that I suffer from this alleged Velvet Rage. All homosexual men do, but I seeing that.

As for my current and temporary frustration. It's one thing to have 4 cases of the same incident happen. I think one would variably notice the reoccurring themes, as I do too. Tra-la! It's okay, people seem to spend a couple of nights with me and they realize they never want to end up alone.

So they date someone else.

It's okay, I have terrific friends. So that allows me to keep my figure and I have more emotional love than I can handle. It's this God Damned Velvet Rage. Pointing out these issues, I need to finish this book so I can know there are solutions. I can't deal if there is no solutions!

May The Vespa-Rider live long and happily with his boyfriend. I wish them well and I made a delicious dinner tonight. My nervous energy went into a meal and this delightful little dinner was created from it.

I also slammed my right fist repeatedly against the wall and cupboards several times. Not to any sort of harm that is lasting and I know and respect that it's not "healthy." I am identifying with this Velvet Rage. That's why I need to read to the end of this book.

Tuesday, May 5

Yay for Next To Normal


Yay! Alice Ripley! This is your year and no one deserves it more than you! Belt your raspy heart out to the Tony Awards!

Hurray for getting 11 Tony Nominations, may it improve ticket sales endlessly!

And for [title of show], I'm glad you got one nomination and may you win that one!!

Saturday, May 2

Night of 1,000 Stevies: A Tragic-Comedy

For those of you not familiar with the event. Night of 1,000 Stevies is a celebration to the Goddess that is Stevie Nicks. The lead singer of Fleetwood Mac. A women with enough vocal power and talent to have a night dedicated to her once a year, for 19 years and counting. I know Stevie fairly well and I have enjoyed some of her songs immensely, but an event like this has never been something I would find myself drawn to.

Yet, I walked into the doors last night. No one really checked my validity for being there. I told the doorman I had a ticket waiting for me and I told the Box Office window that my friend had left me a ticket. She stamped my wrist affectionately and told me that was my way in and out of the venue. Never saying my name of showing anyone I.D. I had infiltrated the event.

I lied my way into Night of 1,000 Stevies, though I was invited properly. Yet, I felt I'd cleverly snuck into a place I truly didn't belong. I was brought there when the LA Lover reappeared into my weekend. He had an extra ticket and offered it to me, but not before exhausting other possibilities (via facebook). At the time, I thought I was being treated with special behavior.

He was friendly and tipsy when I arrived. Everyone there was friend and in some state of drunkenness. Excluding my one friend who has been sober for 3 years, yet he seemed to be the most intoxicated. On Stevie's voice, perhaps?

It was a very calm attitude and so many gay men! An unlikely mixture. Everyone from Hell's Kitchen Queens to Williamsburg Hipsters are drawn to this woman. I can admit that after last night, I will be too. Stevie, come into my life!

Even my friends are drawn to Stevie Nicks. Why not? She has no ill will to anyone and her songs are like poetry. She casts spells it seems. I enjoyed it immensely! If only I had shown up with my friends and not the LA Lover. I felt a tie binding myself to his company, because he invited me. My friends purchased their tickets.

I figured since I was spending time in his company, I may as well sleep with him tonight. . .

Yes, Virgina, I know that this isn't the right attitude to take. Don't worry in a moment you'll find out how karma got the best of me. So the LA Lover was being his typical LA self, but in a tipsy state. . .
(Never ending Stevie Nicks odes are performed in the background throughout the scene. They are higher up on a stage. The volume is extremely lower than in real life, but the players shout all the same. LA LOVER and IGUANA wear the same black American Apparel Sweater, but IGUANA wears a nice blazer over it. LA LOVER is wearing eyeliner and has a smokey eye as well.)

LA: All these mixed gendered people! Oh it's so magical! Let me buy you a drink!
IGUANA: Oh thanks, is that okay? How expensive are the drinks. . .
LA: Tonight, money doesn't matter! I know you are being more reserved these days, I want to liquor you up! Take that edge off. . .
IGUANA: Okay, then I'll take my drinks three at a time.--
(Realizes it's not a joke)--Cran and vodka, thanks.
(LA LOVER flounces off and IGUANA watches the drag queens and Hedwig look-a-likes walk by.)

It was impressive and disappointing at times. This was one of the times it was very successful . . . This is what Taylor Mac does normally:



The night wore on and I stayed out of curiosity and I figured my invitation was also into the arms of the LA Lover. As life would have it, the wheels turn there was never anything in the lies he told me last Christmas. I simply turned for a moment and he was making out with a drunk guy, to which he abandoned me. It was graceless and tacky. I suppose it was my just reward for assuming we would go home together.

As simple as that, I am hardly interesting. A drunk boy who is cuter than me throws himself in your face and hardly a goodbye. I suppose there's some divine law out there that says I deserved that kind of respect. To be left by myself in a space, to be flirted with and then denied.

I left the party shortly afterward, next year I would return on my own terms. With my own friends and not with ex-LA Lovers. I took a cab home out of frustration, so I would feel the wind of the BQE and not have to worry about battling subways at 2:30 AM.

Upon arriving home I went to bed. The dream that followed was insane. It was Alice in Wonderland in it's beginning. I laid down in bed and shortly got up to return to Night of 1,000 Stevies. I had unfinished business. What proceeded was an epic battle filled with sex, fights, flying, Margret Cho and blood. Red blood. It was a terrifying dream and it was epic. Epic in every way!

I awoke thinking I had actually returned to Night of 1,000 Steveies and feeling weary at all the decisions that had been made. It took me all of five minutes to realize it had just been a dream. Yet, I felt like serious decisions had been made. Words were said that could not be taken back.

I felt like weeping, despite the fact none of it happened. It was the necessary ending to an unresolved reality. I was left stranded amongst Stevie Nicks's everywhere! As if I had the eyes of God looking at me from every direction. I want to hang my head in shame, instead I ran home and fell into a world where I create make my own ending.