Dead Floral Tributes

I have a small Off-Broadway play I am getting paid an equally small stipend for. Paid work is better than free work. Despite the fact it's two jobs for the price of one. I can do this, I am stronger than you think. I am Assistant Stage Manager and Wardrobe Dresser. I am the Alpha and the Omega. I am the beginning and the end.

Lena Horne has died. This saddens me, I am uploading her Broadway show to listen to tomorrow.

I went to Miami for the weekend. Glamor! It was the preview to Greece. I bite my tongue when I observe how older people act. They are fun, but there is a feeling that the Ice Man Cometh at times.

I wrote the above about two weeks ago.

I come to you now. It's a simple and strange life I lead. I am discovering the idea of dating, loving, being with someone. I am still trying to understand it. We're going on to 10 months and before you know it, it will indeed be a year. How funny, the year has flown. Time does move faster as you get older.

Tonight was a first. The Construction Workers life has been difficult, as most of ours has been. He's been drinking . . .much more than I would necessarily enjoy. I see why, I know why. I am often the sober one, why is this? Is it because I am keeping my eye on him? I want to seem mature? A mixture of those feelings. Tonight he went to a birthday party at a private apartment. So the alcohol was flowing and free. We drank. We all drank. He drank more and had eaten nothing.

We finally decided to head home. I had my bike. I love my bike, it's loyal to me. This year has been a big year of changing. I got a kitten and have raised it. I have a bike that I ride religiously and I have a boyfriend. I obviously am into changing myself. I am open to learning. Moments will come and they will be part of life. Tonight is one of those nights.

I used to drive upstate all the time. I am king of the speeding tickets! I even had to attend a defensive driving class! I am notorious upstate! The Construction Worker was drinking, much more than I expected. My bike was in the back of his car. "We need to take a car service home. I can't drive." I was happy he made this decision on his own, but my bike! I needed my bike for tomorrow morning. As I stay up past two AM, I wonder if will be riding tomorrow. I shall though, it's the only constant I know I can control these days.

I told him. "I can drive." I was saying it! I've always had this immobilizing fear of driving in the city.

Now you may be wondering, was he drunk? No. I was in the conscious mind. I was alert and knew that my bike was in the backseat. I needed it. The construction worker is imperfect. He is going through hard times too. He lacks the sense to judge what is too much drink, what is dumb in choosing drinking over eating. In the 40 years of his life he has kept these ideals true.

It pains me to see this. In my youth I have been through plenty. People who know me, know this much is true. I haven't experienced nearly enough in my years, but the things I have gone through are beyond experience. I have taken a year of therapy to comfort myself into this feeling. I have attended support groups. I am a whole being and even in my youth I just am bothered by this.

Here I am. A 24-year-old. Who fears driving in the city. Has NEVER driven in the city. Is volunteering to drive his drunk boyfriend home. In all honestly he couldn't drive and I knew I could. I am not a complete dependent. I can drive and I have seen him take the route home plenty of times. I felt like I held my breath the entire time. I was so tense, but I did it. I got to my apartment. Listening to Lady Gaga on the radio. I have driven my mother's SUV plenty of times, but his car is larger and more broken down. The side mirrors are falling off and the rear view mirror is atrocious. I did it though. Kudos for me. Sadness to the Construction Worker.

I am faced with his weakness. The bottle. In all my drugs, all my addictions. I can understand why a lost soul like myself would go astray. Here is a man who has done it all. Built and sold businesses, lived on a boat, promoted the best clubs in NYC, and all these other successes. To see him in a state is what makes a partner feel human. There is his weakness, his battle, his truth.

I know what ails him. The thing which I could easily make discussion about and yet I slightly avoid it. I am trying to understand it. I know he is not an alcoholic, he has even defended it at times. I know how he feels. I do feel I should speak though, there is my worries. I worry. I will mention it tomorrow.

You drove his car home for him. That's not something that has happened everyday. This is the third event you were waiting for. It shakes you because you had to do it, yet the act itself was a simple event. You care for him and that's what any lover would do in the case. Your personal fears do not reflect the actual setting in place. This man has lived his entire life in the city, but he let you drive home. Oh the dilemma!

My boyfriend's birthday is today.

This is what I intend to say in his card:

Happy 40th Birthday! We've only been together for a short time and I know I will never fully understand the life you had before 40.
That aside, I would be honored to spend time with you in the next 40 years of your life. The time that I've spent with you has been a very happy time for me.
You are smart and I find you incredibly attractive, even aside from that I find your active personality incredibly amazing and I still am trying to figure it out.

I am still trying to figure out exactly what love is, and it's a word that people weigh a lot of mental energy into,but I know that what I have been feeling lately when I think about you is probably very close to what "loving" someone must feel like. I just don't know if I wanna give that feeling a finite definition right now, because what I feel for you can't be explained with words. Happy birthday, wolf.

xoxo
E.iguana

By Any Other Name Would Still be a Rose

This is a picture of my boyfriend's stalker. He sent it to me one day along with a four page letter this kid wrote for him. I don't need to worry because I've been told he joined the army. Though his letter (which was written in October) says he may not continue with it.

Now, for those of you who know my background. This is the second guy I've dated who has a stalker. It's left me with a few thoughts and queries that I just want to get out in the open. Be there an answer to them or not.

I wonder how someone could feel so obsessed with someone to the point of carving their names into a tree outside of the apartment that the Construction Worker was building. Or that he got one phone call when he joined the army and he called The Construction Worker. Is there some sort of dreamworld they live in? I was told that the boy was only a hookup, but then it grew into this deranged gifts and him getting followed into bars.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if this boy doesn't go into the army and just suddenly appears one day. Would he try to kill me? Or ruin my life. The only difference between the first stalker and the second is the man attached. The Construction worker is coming from a different place and this said stalker has yet to appear.

When he does, I hope it ends up like this. . .

I Shall Remarry. . .

He called me his boyfriend. Tra-la. For the first time in years. Will wonders never cease? He's invited me to Greece come this June. Oh mamma, I may be going to Greece. I need to save up money!

It's all so trivial, but simple and nice. We enjoy the company and he's quiet, but he likes to have me around. Oh we shall see, we shall see.

Vannnnnilllllllaaaa iiiiiiccccceeeeecrrrrrrreeeeeaaaammm.

Futon Paradise

I purchased a wonderful futon from Ikea the other day. The old one seemed to be cursed and would not come apart no matter how much I tried to dismantle it! Then Elizabeth came home and waved her hand and it fell to pieces.

I'm a little pissed off because I was supposed to be selling Ralph Lauren clothing for the US Open this week, but it seems I am not needed. I haven't minded the week off and I've been incredibly active in doing things. I just can't call my temp agency and say, "The work I was assigned isn't being given to me, can I have more work." In one more week this will be through and things shall return to normal. They said next week will be busier and I will be ready!

I may be getting a kitten soon. This is astounding and thrilling news. The Wounded Soldier's cats had five little kittens and he is offering them out. I have 4 weeks to decide this, but I think it will happen. I'm nervous, but I think it could be an amazing adventure. . .

So I have been very silent for weeks because I have been dating. A lot. I don't know how it happens, but I'll go through these periods where men want me from left and right. Then nothing for weeks. I know that may sound like bragging, but in this new era where I am not being a Manhunt whore, a date is appreciated. Even 4 dates at once.

Though there have been multiple men. There are two that have caught my attention. Both similar and vastly different in their mannerisms. There is the Georgia Peach and the Construction Worker. The things they have in common is that they are both from masculine backgrounds. I love my masculine gay men, as a friend says, "Straight acting is still acting. . ."

It's funny because between the two of them there is a tie for who I would rather spend more time with. If I had it my way (and perhaps I will get my way) I would keep both. The Georgia Peach is a beautiful southern boy. He has no baggage this time, there is no small child in sight and he has a good job. He loves weed and doesn't do hard drugs. He's only been out for a couple of years, before that he was "fucking girls". Apparently not everyone comes out at 15, well for those of us who do. We laugh at the idea of that. Fucking vagina . . .heh.

He's been kind and cuddly and then quiet and distance. It's too soon to really decide anything, but he's an Aries, which I've been told is dangerous to caring people like me. I see it though.

The Construction Worker is older [39] but is beautiful too. He owns his own construction company that is green. He has a large SUV and comes from a half-Italian/half-Lebanese family. I will never be invited to a family dinner. He's quiet, but I enjoy the silence. The same goes for the Peach. There's no incessant talking. I can talk incessantly with my friends. He too came out later in life and no doubt fucked bitches before he was officially a homo. Unlike the Peach though he seems to have been around with more men. He was born and raised in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. I find that hot.

Honestly, I find the idea of gay men who still wear baggy jeans hot. They both wear unfitted jeans.

The Peach and I have slept together. It happened suddenly and without warning. It's hot and quick. Dirty and fun. Then we cuddle while we sleep. In the morning he promptly goes to work and kicks me out like a trick. I ride my bike home and wonder if he'll ever call me until to do something.

The Construction Worker and I have not slept together yet. Even though I long too. We've hung out more though. Seen movies, drank until we were funnily drunk, seen movies. Then he drives me home in his large SUV and we make out in his car. I cannot tell if he's waiting for me to invite him up. He tells me there is no pressure. I also have the slight doubt that the moment I sleep with him I may never see him again.

Time will tell with all of these things. . .

There, I have got you caught up with most everything that's important these days. Now we sit and wait. . .

There is Always a Man

I have been absent from writing, this is due to enjoying life. The fall begins and for the first time I don't have to worry about college. I picked up my degree the other day and it's official! I am a college graduate! I graduated Cum Laude too, which I didn't even realize was an honor.

I am working the U.S. Open for the next two weeks. I still don't know if I'm working tomorrow, but we shall see. It will be an experience to say the least.

The Tale of the Wounded Soldier

I feel like this story should begin with, "Once upon a time. . ." because when I sit and think about what I'm going to write about. Involves a relationship, a small child, revenge, poison and a "mildly retarded faggot. So you'll allow me a moment to open this with that lovely phrase.

Once upon a time there lived an Iguana who lived in the Land of Sunsets. One day he met a Wounded Soldier who carried around way to much baggage. These were bags filled with goodies from all the wars he had been in. There was the War of Iraq where he'd gotten shrapnel in his back and hurt both his knees. This made the Iguana feel warmly toward the soldier. There was the War of the Divorce where he'd gotten a small child and a jilted wife who hated him beyond belief. So much that she'd have him arrested for not being able to pay child support. This made the Iguana a little uneasy, but a child in a different state is a child that the Iguana never sees. Then there was the War of the Homo where the Soldier got mixed notions on what being a homosexual is, a crazy Ex-boyfriend who was hit on the head with a brick and now was unable to tell the difference between wrong and right, and all other kinds of silly things. This made the Iguana laugh because: Who would let that kind of thing into their life?

So the Iguana and Soldier stayed together for a month, living contently. When the Soldier left his immense burdens in the other room, things were good. The Iguana smiled and the Soldier felt content, because a Soldier without an army wife is like an Iguana without an eccentricity. The two cannot exist without the each other.

Then one day the Crazy-Ex boyfriend began to come around more and more. You see the Crazy-ex was gifted . . .literally. He was a sob story within himself. For when the Ex was a young boy someone hated him enough to hit him in the head with a brick. That seemed to have damaged his sense of what was right or wrong. Then when the Ex was a little older he dropped out of school in the 6th Grade. That seemed to have damaged any chance of him being socially adept or remotely tolerable. Then through his whole life the Ex grew up with seizures and brittle bones that broke from even a gust of wind.

Into the woods we go again! We have to every now and then!

With all these problems in his past, the Iguana could not help but feel slightly sorry for the crazy-Ex. The Iguana had a special power though, something that the Soldier in his kindness seemed to lack. The Iguana had the most special gifts of all: Common sense and little empathy.

One day when the Iguana and Soldier were having a picnic, the Crazy-Ex appeared in a puff of smoke. In his hands he had two apples, the Soldier was hungry and quickly took a bite. The Iguana though, slapped the apple from the Ex's hand and yelled, "I only eat organic!" After finishing his apple the Soldier began to sweat and feel dizzy. The crazy-Ex went on discussing his last trip to the land of Divorce and talking to the Queen.

"But you're not allowed into the land of Divorce!" Cried the Iguana to the Soldier. The Soldier remained quiet and let the crazy-Ex berate him more. Then the Soldier began to throw up.

"I've been poisoned. . . again!" Shouted the Soldier.

"Oh my. . .Wait, again?"

"Yes, again!"

"You let a mildly retarded man-child poison you, twice? I'm supposed to understand this? Wait and why is your Ex-bf still hanging out after a month we started seeing each other?! I mean you dated for like two months? What part of his absolutely disgusting and childish attitude did you not catch onto first? Why is he even here offering you edible and drinkable things? Why is there the possibility that he poisoned you. . .for a second time?! And why does he have your ex-Wife's phone number?"

"And I just found out your home address too, one of my Goblins got it for me." The crazy-Ex cackled.

"Excuse me? Okay you know what. I have three rules and they've all been broken in one swift move. First, I don't do drama in my life. I have enough and this, my friend, is a little more than I would ever want to get involved in. Second, I have my own affairs to tend to and as far as your Crazy-Ex is concerned. I don't exist anymore, if I get a knock on my door, I will have him arrested and I don't have any backwater shit for him to threaten me about. You got poisoned twice?! And third, I do not involve myself with people who believe that poisoning is something that enters an equation."

And they all lived happily ever after . . .

The End

Did I Die?

Am I even here anymore? Let's see shall we. . .

There was pride and then the 4th of July. Then my birthday is coming up.

I've been looking for a job, it's such an upsetting notion. I am trying temp agencies and the last week I got two calls from the temp agency basically saying, "I have a job here. . ." They then proceeded to give me the statistics and my mouth began to water. The first time I was offered the woman paused and said, "But it's in Long Island City, that's so far from Brooklyn. . . You don't want to travel out there. . ." That ended that.

Then the second one was waiting for the woman to call her back for the job and she never did. It's upsetting to feel like you may get work. Then suddenly it's nothing. I'm giving myself a little while longer before I decide that I am going to get just any job.

Then I've sort of been dating someone. I do not know how to really start this whole discussion. He has a lot of baggage and that makes me nervous, but I've talked about it with my therapist and we both came to a conclusion that his baggage is what helps me like him. He sort of makes me feel normal when I'm around him. My roommate told me to dump the chump, but the thing is I know what it's like to reveal yourself to someone and then never hear from them again. It's depressing. Plus, I've made it clear that I move slowly and though he makes me weary at times, I think this man means well.

During this time when I'm so unsure about so many things. It's nice to have one thing that's sort of grounded. He makes me dinner and it tastes good. On July 5th when I apparently drank to much (though I only had 3-4 drinks) and I spent the entire day puking. He played Dead Space while I threw up all day. It was sort of sweet in this little way. . .

Who knows.

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.

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.

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.

A Weekend in My Mind

What do you want? That's the question on my mind for this last week. It's caused a lack of sleep. My roommate had a moment where she told me "what it's all about." I do agree with most of what she said. Though no one necessarily likes to hear that they are manipulating situations, but I was.

I suppose that if I invite someone over for dinner at 9 PM at night. That is basically a spider inviting a fly into his parlor. I cannot be surprised that they think I want to date them. I feel like a grand seducer and an emotional leech. I don't necessarily mean to lead anyone on, which I have been doing. She concludes [as all good doctors do] that I need to figure out what I want.

I've been trying to figure it out. I think I want to date, but I did make that vow to God and a Starbucks Barrista that I would not have sex with anyone in this group until it was through. Yet, I have been eyeing some and doing the acts described above. What's awful about it is I do it so ambiguously and without conviction. I do want to become friends with people, but to do it with gay men seems to always have the issue of sexual attraction.

Probably because we become friends with people we are initally attracted to. I am trying to improve my ambigious sexuality. It's got to be addressed sometime, but the thing is if you're attracted to that person [and in return he is attracted to you] than you obviously will not address the issue until after infidelities are committed.

So I am thinking on this issue. If I believe in having a boyfriend then I will get one? I don't know if I'll necessarily buy that. I suppose there's no harm in trying. So I guess we'll get that out of the way.

In my life I haven't always been clear on what I wanted. In fact I don't think there has been clarity for several years now. I wish I was cemented in ideas and less confusion. I am flighty and absentmindedly open. I've grown tired of thinking about this issue.

Another Day On Set

Expecting people to give their free time for 12+ Hours is somewhat ridiculous to me. Despite that, I will be on set from approximately 2PM to 1AM. Oh phew, they just got under 12 hours. I'm grateful.

I'm swallowing my pride, annoyance and anger. I am going to be calm. There are lots of other people at their wits end. I am annoyed by my tongue and how sharp it's become. This month has turned me into a stressed out monster. We're going to be better, starting right now.

Last night I went on a non-date with a guy from Group. We rode throughout Brooklyn on a Vespa. He spent the night on my couch. We both are good at following rules. Another Hot Dumpling, which is funny that I'd run into two in such short time.

The Vespa ride was the best part of the night. The dinner, his company and the live music were all terrific too, but to ride around this city. The air, night and city passing by. Having a conversation with someone, while you cling for dear life. I was terrified but invigorated.

Then when the rain came, how funny. It wasn't a sexually charged date, just two people enjoying life. It was pleasant and it got tricky as the night moved on. He spent the night, on my couch. Which makes me laugh and I appreciate that he had that strength. In my state, I don't think I'd have that willpower.

It's what we're working on right now. You need to gain back those morals.

Oh, I'd write more, but that damned movie calls. Calm, calm, calm. I shall be calm and graceful. Bringing books and homework to look at in the downtime, I'll probably end up on set for shoots, but I can switch off with someone.

Grant me the strength . . .

These Scarlett O'Hara Days

I am not a prophet nor am I fully a pessimist anymore. Yet, I have a feeling Harring's time in my life is done. It upset me earlier this week. The reason not being love sickness, but feeling manipulated.

I still feel like I've been lead on. I'm getting over the fact that this unfortunately was the case. I want to call, but I don't even feel like it's worth it. I have put my effort into it and I'm still baffled by how it all changed.

My prime example being that Harring apparently wrote a letter to my friend thanking him for "bringing Iguana to New Years and into his life." Something along those lines. I was touched when I heard that, which in turn helped promote investing in hoping it turned into something when he returned. Silly me.

Like a newlywed who has to hear of her husband's death on the battlefield. Never really getting a chance to know the man she wanted to love. I will wear black for a few weeks [hours] and then give up my wedding band for metal collection.

After that, I will begin again. . .

Picture of Success

I've had it with you, and Mexico can fucking wait.

You stood me up. Perhaps you really do want to get to know me, and if you do I would not mind getting to know you too. Just be fucking adult about it.

These are times that can't be weathered, and we have never been back there since.

The Problem with Harring

A Point-to-Point if you will. . .

• The first two weeks of his Mexico trip he texted me constantly. Telling me he missed me , he couldn't wait to see me, when he came home he was going to be very intense, etc.
  
• The last week I did not hear a word from him. When I would text him there would not be a reply as there was the first two weeks.
  
  
• He could NOT wait to see me when he got home.
• When he got home I did not even hear a word from him until I called him the next day and then his response was just sort of, "Hi."
  
  
• I opened myself up and said, "I missed you more than I expected while you were gone."
  
• He responded with silence. Nothing.
  
  
• He told me we've hang out tonight [meeting time was tentatively 8 o'clock] and that he would call some time to talk about it.
• 8 o'clock rolls around. Nothing. In my wonderful way I call and text him. Instead of asking "What's up?" I send: Are you blowing me off?
• He calls me back and asks me what is up. "You've been acting strange since I returned home." I admit I have been strange, but no stranger than you.
  
  
• I respond that I will tell him fully when I see him. I say this as the movie I am working on is going crazy and I just exposed raw nerves at the support group last night and I have missed him for weeks.
• He ends up canceling because he thinks he is getting a cold.
  
  
• I call him on the way home and tell him I didn't mean to be weird or paranoid.
• He was understanding and told me that he wants to get to know me. To be myself.

Now, while I agree with his last suggestion. From here on out I will be nothing but myself. He does not know that the notion that someone would just lose interest in me is hardly a fairytale in my life. I am terrified of opening myself up to anyone and I am trying to do this well.

My intuition is ringing out like a school bell. I have ideas and thoughts that have brought about this paranoia.

Yet, here is what is going to happen. . .

After all this was finished and I was riding home on the train. A man got on and looked at me. We rode home and I felt him looking at me. He was a tall man, not handsome, but a unique beauty was in his face. He wasn't ugly by far, but taller than a normal man and possibly bald under his winter cap.

In that moment I knew what was wrong with my equilibrium. I am not giving myself enough credit. I woke up today at 6 am, ran 4.30 miles (with a cold mind you!) I went to class, came home and did homework. Made myself hot for the meeting that never happened. I went to Manhattan, bought some plays for class, went to the Designer for the movie and worked until 10 PM.

The powerful being I am is beyond me. I am doing so much and I am allowing myself to fall apart over a guy. To let Harring rule my emotions and cause me to sound like a stuttering fool!

Not anymore. I still like him and wish to see him (perhaps it will happen sometime soon) again. No more paranoia though. If in Mexico he tells me of some Folgers man who came over the hills of Merida, riding on his mule. That they had a passionate tryst and that's why he stopped texting me. I can only reply with, "That was your choice."

I walk down the street and I see eyes. I see attractive men seeing me, looking at me. It makes me smile. I know anyone of these guys I could go up and strike a conversation, if I wanted to. For the moment I want to direct my attention towards Harring. I want to, that's why I don't just sleep with just anyone anymore. I know how nice it feels to sleep with the person you WANT to. If he wants to abuse his right and sleep with others and then show interest in me still. That is fine, I can expect no more or less these days.

Harring has been moved to the back burner. He decided that himself and I am okay with that. I will see him when I see him. I like him, but I was rash and thought his advances were sincere. He wants to spend time getting to know one another, I want to get to know him, but in order to do that. You actually need to see the person.

Enter The Documentarist

It's New Years Eve and only moments after 2009 rolls in I am making out with a boy. I didn't foresee this happening, not in the least. We all got dressed up before we left the house and I was so unaware that I was going to be courted. I had my friend give me a Black-Eye because it seemed what needed to be done at the time.

We arrived at the club and I pranced off, looking around for something fun to do. When I arrived back at the sitting area that was mine, The Documentarist, entered the scene. I knew him from Manhunt back in the day. Wed\ never hooked up because I was going through a lot of shit at the time and he is my age, it unnerves me to be interested in someone on my playing field.

Our eyes met. His piercing and mine glazed over. We'd been talking on manhunt, on and off, for about two years. We have a little knowledge of each other's lives, but nothing more than the basics. Cock size, HIV Status, etc.

I smiled at him and he whispered to me, "What are you on?" I rattled off a list of letters from the alphabet and he seemed nonchalant about it all. I think that was the moment I knew he was mine for taking.

I did not necessarily plot it out. I simply decided to dance with my shirt off, that is all, nothing wrong with that. Next thing I know we were in the bathroom kissing and then on the dance floor making out. He told me he'd have met me sooner if he had seen my smile before now. He has a smooth way with words. He also added, "You know you're coming home with me, so I can tie you up and not let you go?" I swear, my heart melted, just a little.

I was taken by his humor and mannerisms. He's a stout guy (maybe a little chubby), is Israeli and has a dark complexion. He always has stubble, smokes left-handed cigarettes and is covered with Keith Harring Tattoos. He is a Scorpio and has a huge sexual appetite.

He was smitten with my good looks and kept telling me how cute I am. After a little while, we finally decided to leave. We arrived at his apartment around 4 am and didn't go to bed until 6:30 am. We slept until about 2 PM and then continued to mess around and talk. He made me breakfast and I continued to turn him on. There was discussion of dating and other issues of monogamy. It moved so fast, I've never felt so attracted to someone before.

I've arrived home and wondrously, we have set a date for tomorrow. I read in Gay Love Signs that Cancer & Scorpio go together well. Exceedingly well, actually. It's already accurately called out how our first meeting would be.

"Your first sexual encounter could take place almost anywhere; at the baths, in the back of a truck or behind the locked door at his office, depending upon the circumstances under which you meet."

The book is surprisingly accurate. I left his apartment and began to doubt myself. He seems like a worthy thing to try for and the cards are already in my favor. I read the book and it addressed this issue right off the bat!

Scorpio men are sexuality incarnate. When you first meet you see it in his eyes that are deep-set and fixed in their gaze. When he makes eye contact, this man is not teasing. He doesn't flirty because he realizes that sex is more than a game. . .Your first instinct is to run away, but the promise of such intense sexuality and the challenge of coping with his power combine to force you to surrender.

You feel like you are jumping feet first into a deep pool of dark water, giving yourself up to a mystical experience that could lead you either to heaven or hell. After your first sexual encounter with a Scorpio man, you may feel that you don't care whether it's angels or devils as long as you can spend eternity with him as your lover.

It's very interesting all of it. It sounds promising and though it's not the cold heard facts, it's nice to have a perspective into the situation. I trust the ideas of what to look out for, since I find myself very Cancer-like.

Now what's tricky and I figure I may as well be honest with him. I have my LA Lover staying with me apparently from the 1st to the 3rd. He must've figured something was up today, because I didn't call him until I got home around 6:30. He is sick. Oh it's such divine intervention! Only the first day into Which is good because I have a hickey.

Miss Otis Regrets...

So much to not say. So little not to do. Where doth the time fly?

New Orleans, this Thursday. Back on the plane, this time heading towards the gorgeous South! Land of Plastic beads and Tennessee Williams! Oh, perhaps I should reread some 10? I sometimes long for him, I long from that time when I first read his words and felt whole new worlds opening. Beautiful and tragic. The Kingdom of Heaven does not come at an easy price!

Today has been a day of no work. Shame, shame, shame. I did discover Patti LaBelle's version of Miss Otis Regrets that has sent me giggling like a 14-year-old school girl every time I start it! You need to hear it to believe it! She turns it into a harrowing tale.

When she woke up and found that her dream of love was...GOOOOONNNNNE! Madame! She ran, she ran to the man! Who lead her astray!

And from under a black velvet gown! She drew a gun and SHOT her love down...Madame!

Miss Otis Regrets! She's unable, unable, UNABLE! To lunch...TODAY!

When the mob came and got her! And dragged her from the jail! MADAME! They strung her up! Up! UP! On the Willow across the way!

Tonight a boy I have befriended has revealed that he has feelings for me. It was straight-forward and to the point. I appreciated that, and felt warmly happy inside. I responded with, "I am all types of unstable right now. Just be my friend for now." He's young and naive and I feel that if I touched his body it would melt like a freshly fallen snowflake.

I want him to be in my life. As a friend for now. I don't know how I feel about him, but I like his friendship. That's what's important, right? To value the friendships you have before anything else. Perhaps someday I'll be able to feel that same way in return. Of course, then it will be to late and I'll realize how "Julia Roberts" my life has become.

Lastly, I leave you with various pictures of Jennifer Holliday making weird faces at the Tony Awards:

The one that got her the Tony Award:

Miss Otis regrets, she's unable to lunch today.

Sorting Of Thoughts

After the events of last night and a discussion with my roommate. It's official! I know nothing about dating anymore. I know nothing about relationships and dealing with another person in that way. My roommate and I are odd because we come from two different paths where that comes in. My path is that of a slut.

Somewhere, probably with the last breakup three years ago, I lost some sort of insight. I missed some universal lesson and thought that fucking anything in my path was the way to go. Why? Sex is what everyone wants, right? It's where adventures lie! In some people's eyes this may not be the case. In mine, it made sense at 20, and I have the capabilities.

My roommate says I am saying contradictory things. I am not denying this. It is with that missed lesson that I got lost. I like sex, but apparently, I don't like dating? I can go the romantic route: saying that there is someone out there who will understand me for who I am, someday we will meet and the universe will be restored. Or I can go a realistic path and think that perhaps I am not ready to date, possibly ever.

How has it happened that The Gentleman Caller, The Tall Man, The Escort and another guy I was fucking, all actually are dating or in serious relationships? Yet, they did this all while riding my ass, literally! You can draw it all to one point, that I put out to easily, but that it does not seem that simple and I refuse to believe it.

Being a Cancer does not make this an easy path. I live on Romantic thoughts. I get caught up so easily in the moment, I make rash decisions and then I allow myself to suffer when they never turn out as I hoped they would (but knew they never would?)

Logic isn't my best asset. I grew up in the woods playing in imaginary worlds. When that time to stop playing came, I kept the imagination, I kept the fantasies and the refusal to believe that things just are.

So I have this innocence in me that people still see. I have a vulnerability that is dangerous. My honesty is always there. I've always been a loner, but I was raised in Upstate Suburbia. We pair off, it's what we do up there. Then to grow up with a heterosexual code of conduct, that doesn't necessarily live in the homosexual world. Even the happy couples are all inviting a third into the bedroom nowadays. Perhaps, I need to be around as that third? If I'm paired off who else would they call?

That is to simple in actuality, the issues I'm wrestling with are filled with contradictions and that's why it's difficult to articulate.

Then there are my sexual urges. My roommate reminded me that I haven't stopped having sex. I know this, but I have cut it down considerably. When I get frustrated, I get horny. It's so interesting. We all have things that we do that are unhealthy when we are depressed. Some people drink, others cut themselves and I have sex with people. Do I want to say right off that bat, this is completely unhealthy? Not really. Sex is sex is sex is sex.

See therein lies the problem. I know how to have/get/look for sex. Without that curiosity to drive it, dating is no fun. I find that the people I am sexually attracted to, aren't the people I'd like to date. This works in reverse too. Maybe I'm not making sense in all this, but I never was one for sense.

In short, I don't want to be in a relationship. And though I will get upset if a person I am fucking reminds me that they are dating someone. It will make me feel lonely, this is true. I would feel equally lonely with the mind games that people play anyway. I'm living the unorthodox path and like any Vegan is aware: It's not an easy one. One day perhaps it will all just click, probably on my deathbed, and I'll know how to make it all work.

I am taking steps to figure things out. I will make excuses like everyone else, but I will be aware of them. The heart is a lonely hunter. Truly it is.

I need to dispel any thoughts of dating. If I fuck someone, I am fucking them. No matter how much we flirt or kiss or cuddle. As well as I have the right to say, "I don't want to talk about who you're dating. We're having sex and I just don't feel comfortable in giving relationship advice." And feel justified in saying that.

Getting a dog seems so much easier. I think I'll start looking into that path of life. A Boy and his Dog.

The Road to Oz

Finished Season 3 of Oz tonight. I'm on a roll! Hurrah for a lack of social life. My brother surprisingly called me and told me that he's in the city. I would've liked to have hung out with him, had I not already been in the city today and wanted to save money. Plus it was very last minute. I enjoy my brother's company, but not that much.

I had lunch with a good friend today and we always discuss moving from the city. I like to believe that when I'm with him, nothing can go wrong. For those few hours, I can be worried to hell, but when I talk to him I feel so cal--Well, I feel understood.

I spent another night at home. I haven't been sexually active in about two months. I go to bed and can't sleep. I think about being alone forever. Not to be melodramatic, but I have thought about it. I'd rather have a really good friend who I lived with. Give me a friend like the one mentioned above and I say 'Eh' to dating and relationships.

I am sure if given the option I would turn my back on these beliefs. I was just sitting today and thinking about it. This may get confusing, but try to follow me?

I've slept with a lot of people. We're talking three digits! In my young age, that's pretty up there. I did this because I wanted to. Wise or dumb, the decisions I made were my own. I'm not bragging, I'm just trying to fill in blanks.

During this Odyssey, I had a handful of unsuccessful beginnings of possible relationships. First dates, second dates, third dates. Then done. I also had about three or four more more serious moments where I had to go out of my way and have that conversation we all hate to hear. Then there was the two guys I can consider pseudo-relationships. Who ultimately left me and are now both in serious relationships, apparently.

I know the ins and outs of dating. I've seen it played out on stage. I just don't know those moments, those intimate moments. Those fragile and destructible moments. That in years eventually get broken. I see it all the time. And when you try and get close to someone, they someday take all the secrets you've shared and the promises you've made. They take all that and use it against you. In dating you're ultimately inviting someone into your life who can, in turn, become your worst enemy.

Why do we do that to ourselves?

I guess I see the glass as half empty nowadays. I'm the artist, I'm the dreamer. I'm the one that dies young. Who lived fast and never knew the right places to go. He just went and let the world happen around him. Never really thinking of the future. He had moments of inspiration, but they never amounted to anything. They just sprouted and quickly withered away, waiting for another idea to take it's place.

It's a blue night. Blue, indeed.