My Limbo and Flux You TWO

Yeesh, I don't think any other blog entry has spawned such polarized reactions as my entry trying to celebrate my efforts to sustain and fulfill MY version of living life vs someone else's idea about how to live life. People either read it for what it was, or they read it as a slam against "the mainstream" and just left it at that.

Listen... my post to celebrate and cheer on my efforts to be myself, honor myself, and try to strike a balance in a world full of pressure to conform to a standard, was just THAT... my celebration and cheering on of myself. It wasn't a slam against those of you who CHOOSE to participate in "the mainstream" and it wasn't a slam against those whose dreams happen to coincide with what the mainstream expects of you. That is a lucky and beautiful thing, and if my way of living, or my dreams coincided with the mainstream, I would be delighted.

My angle of distaste was directed toward those who succumb to the pressure to be a cog in the wheel of life, who then bitterly enforce that same defeat upon others; it was also directed toward those who are lucky enough to have their goals and dreams be perfectly in alignment with the mainstream, who then stand in contempt and arrogance over others using smug justifications. THEY are the "walking dead" and those afraid of splashing about in the waters of uncertainty in life. THEY are the zombies who just want to bite you and make you one of them.

So if your dreams align with the mainstream... maybe try to generate some gratitude for that wonderful position you have in life, and try to generate some compassion for those of us who feel a design to do differently.

We are all trying to get to the same places, so don't be a hater, 'k?

Peace.

His Name Is Alive (on Vimeo)

His Name Is Alive on Vimeo

Gorgeous, beautiful His Name Is Alive performed at Mercury Lounge last night, and I was graced with the presence of my lovely boyfriend as my date. The performance is such a treat because it is really only recently, after all of these years, that HNIA is touring. They perform their old songs with completely new twists, and even some of their new songs from the new album "Detrola" have unusual live versions, so everything is really fresh, alive, and new during the show. I've fallen in love with them all over again.

Here is a teeny clip from last night's performance of a classic song of theirs, done in a more mournful way than the original version, which was done with a gospel choir and children.

MORE ON HNIA:
http://www.myspace.com/hisnameisalive
http://www.hisnameisalive.com

ENJOY!

My Limbo and Flux You

Everything seems to be in limbo right now. Isn't it funny that "limbo" is a playful game of bending over backwards and moving forward, and it also implies a kind of imprisoning with lack of movement. Me: I'm bending over backwards and moving forward.

Most of the time I see this kind of flux as a form of adventure. Part of the adventure is that it's just a part of life that things change and that's a good thing. The limbo and flux is the price I pay for the kind of life I choose to live. I'd rather spend my energy treading water in life while doing what I love, than to stand on dry land, safe, but alone and ineffective.

One of the main things I have learned in recent years is that life is not about EXTREMES. It's about balance, harmony, healthiness, and compassion. Sure, I can be extreme and do ONLY what I love, struggling against the raging waters for my very survival along the way; or I could do the other extreme and "get a job" that would bring about a weekly stability, but suck dry all of the time and energy I would otherwise have for my life. Either extreme is not kind, healthy, compassionate, or balanced (for me). They are cruel methods of living and many in this world feel they have to choose one of those extremes against their inner navigation.

In fact, the world is often divided in many ways by that very line: People who live in the acceptable mainstream, stable world of glorified mediocrity, and people who live in the distant, chaotic world of contemptuous naivete. I am from the latter.

Neither extreme is better than the other, but the sheer pressure of our social peers makes the mainstream, relinquishing of dreams, to be an acceptable and even enticing world to join. (I wonder what it's like in cultures where the reverse is true.) I am tempted into this surrender of dreams all of the time. It is truly easier to surrender your dreams for a piece of stability and mainstream acceptability, than to pursue your dreams and live out the chaos of your creativity. I am often tempted to take the easy way out, especially now that I will be living on my own. The pressure is on from all around me, too. My loved ones take great measures to convince me to conform to the expectations of our society, culture, monetary status, and just give in; join those who stand on safe, little islands of dry land.

But I know I will never join that common world of dry land.

I will create or find my an island of my choosing, thank you very much. I don't need to join those who lie upon, or wander about, the worn-out shores of social acceptance, mediocrity, and mainstream as a way to live my life. I want to create and/or find new places and share methods for how others can do the same! It may come as a shock to some people, but there IS more to life than what we can see at a glance. It's beautiful out here in the water.

So, I won't be joining the walking dead on the dream-littered beaches any time, soon.

Cyprus knows this, too, and this is the motivation behind our separation after all of these years. That's a good thing, though. We live and work incredibly well together, but after all of these years, the lifting of the weight of catering to such extreme differences in each other's world will be a great relief.

When people define me, or conclude me, by the fact that I have a sporadic income, distracting dreams, and a willingness to living a bit chaotic and creatively, they sometimes interpret this as being irresponsible, childish, and inconvenient. When people do this, I feel so utterly invisible and sad. It will always be shocking to me when people define others by the superficialities of life. This is like calling someone ugly because his skin is not perfect, or because she is fat. Think of the shallow mentality that easily dismisses the boy with the bad skin through a distant pity for his condition, or that is repelled by the fat girl because "she obviously doesn't take care of herself." It is really lazy, and really easy, for some to dismiss or repel others because of what certain symbols mean to them. For instance, it is really lazy and really easy to dismiss me because I don't fit into the mainstream rules of financial stability and routine.

How we interpret the conditions and symptoms of another person's life is more about OURSELVES than about the person living that life.

Everything you don't like about me, or my life, is reflective of what you repel and reject in yourself . Everything you love about me, or my life, is reflective of what you desire and embrace in yourself. People rarely have relationships with other people, but, instead have relationships with THEIR OWN REFLECTIONS extracted from other people. When we really allow room for others TO BE THEMSELVES, we finally know intimacy.

This is why I find I am truly invisible to some people. They see only parts of themselves in me, instead of just ME. That's part of life, though.

I survived through 18 years of torture, and then another 18 years of creating and pursuing a life to counter the pain and horrors I survived. My life has always been about survival, and I am done with that game. As part of the creation and pursuit of my life, my aim was to do this through helping others create and pursue their own idea of what their lives could be. During that second set of 18 years, I managed to do all I could to help the world around me, while trying to balance helping myself. That's a tough one to do, but I've done it! Yes, I trip and fall a lot, but getting up and continuing is part of the process of creating and owning ones life.

But, see, I am only 38. Yes, I said it: ONLY 38. If I were to die today, people would comment on how young I was to have died. In the two years since I finished that second set of 18 years, I have come to several realizations:

I have my whole life ahead of me. And it's MINE. And it's mine to SHARE, not to give away. I will always know that at any point when I die, I will have loved my life, despite its challenges and pain, because I know I have loved and cared for everything I have created from me. Life happens FROM you; not TO you.

I didn't give up on me, like others may have. I didn't choose convenience over creativity, like others may have. I didn't choose complacency over challenge, like others may have. I didn't choose familiarity and routine over risk, like others may have. I keep trying to play the way everyone wants me to play, but I am playing a different game, I suppose, so the rules through which I have tried to play for so long just don't work.

I know I am not a convenient person to know or love. In a culture that encourages as much convenience and superficial, immediate stimulation as possible, I can be a troublesome, inconvenient, and boring boy.

Over the past two years I have discovered that the conflict and challenge of finding balance in my life is actually IN the relinquishing of my passion, or in the joining of the world of stable mediocrity, but NOT in the WHOLEHEARTED commitment to what I want to do with my life!

If I do not feel I am worth the effort, who will?

Struggling to live the life you want does not make you tired and bitter, but neither does doing what you have to do along the way. It's in our assumptions that we are trapped by the extremes of life that we get tired, despairing, frustrated, and depressed. When we finally GET IT that life fluctuates, changes, and is a long-term dance of creation and interpretation, then we can free ourselves from these extremes and live within the SPECTRUM of life.

We are never really in limbo or in flux, happy or sad, trapped or free, in love or rejected, doing what we want, or not doing what we want... we are never really those things. We are just LIVING. It's all just a PART of us, our lives, and each other. And it changes. All the time.

Enjoy the ride!

So the next time you are disappointed in yourself or in someone else, try to actually LIVE a little. Free yourself and/or the other person from the constraints of an outdated paradigm that encourages you to polarize yourself against yourself or someone else.

We are a spectrum. And so is everyone else.

And so is everything.

Finding "Home"

BIG NEWS:

I am moving.

Soon.

Alone.

Just me and my dog, Spyder.

I need to find an affordable apartment.

Fast.

Any inside connections or direction would be GREATLY appreciated!

I prefer to live:

• anywhere along the L in Brooklyn at any of these stops: Bedford, Lorimer, Graham, Grand, or Montrose.
• anywhere in Manhattan below 100th Street
• in Manhattan, I prefer Lower East Side, East Village
• wherever I move next needs to be considered a potential home for a long time
• with rent around $1300/month
• but I am open to any great suggestions or direction
• roommate situation is acceptable, temporarily
  

HELP?

Swallowing Racism

I wish I knew better how to handle the societally-accepted racism from some pockets of Black people toward other races. Racism exists among all races, and in varying degrees; I know that. But more and more I am seeing blatant, entitled acts of loud, violent, and unwarranted acts of public racism from Blacks toward other races. A week doesn't pass without my hearing a Black person make a derogatory remark, LOUDLY, about another person, based on color of skin, and probably not a month goes by without my seeing a violent act against a non-Black person from a Black person.

What can we do to keep from taking this giant step backward?

1. WHAT'S THAT SMELL!
Clem and I went to Coney Island on Easter Sunday with a few of his friends and had a great time. The Cyclone is AMAZING! I loved it so much more than I expected, but nothing beats the old, wooden coasters vs these modern contraptions that have you so secured and on such a smooth ride. As we stood in line, we were among many, many Black people, which, of course, didn't occur to me until, loudly, a group of them loudly stated, "God, I hate that smell... smells like White People!" WTF?!

2. RUN FOR THE BORDER, BITCH!
Within minutes of the same loud comment above, another set of Black people violently began pushing an Hispanic couple to try to cut them from being able to ride on their turn for the Cyclone. The Hispanic couple were confused and just continued climbing into their coaster car, even as a Black girl screamed out at them, "Go back to your own country, bitch! Run for the border!" Not only was this awful and shocking and ignorant, but as the car pulled away, one of the Black guys running the ride cheered the Black girl on! I know that worse things were said, but I was in such shock, I can't remember a lot of it.

3. PAY YOUR TAXES
As I walked home from the grocery store just this past week, I heard a lot of screaming and shouting. I saw that it was a bunch of Black teens being obnoxious and thought nothing much about it, even as I noticed they were whooping and hollering in a mass of about 30, on bikes, tearing up the street from behind me. Across the street, walking in the opposite direction was a young guy who lives in my building. The swarm of teens crashed into and around the young guy, shouting at him. They pulled at his headphones, kicked at him, tore at his clothes, like animals attacking prey. They started shouting at him to give his money to them because he "owed taxes for walking on THEIR sidewalk." I didn't really know what to do, so I pulled out my cell phone to try to discreetly call 911 as I continued walking, but they saw me and someone shouted, "YO! He's callin' the police! GET HIM!" Inside, I was utterly terrified! Outside of me, however, (and I don't know HOW I do this), I remained utterly calm and unaffected. One of them was running up fast from behind me with his arm extended, holding a club-like weapon, and another one shouted out, "YO! Don't hit him, yet!" I was ready to fight, even though my hands were full of grocery bags, and I was trying to call the police, and I was scared out of my mind. Dialing was no longer an option as I had to now defend myself. Several of them swarmed around me and began tearing at my clothes, kicking me, and threatening me. There were too many to fight, so all I did was WALK. I just kept walking against the assault, being knocked, HARD, against one who would then kick me back into another, but I pulled out my keys and approached my apartment building doors. Someone yelled out, "YO! He's pullin' out his keys!" I don't know why this distracted them, but they suddenly dropped the assault and started riding and running away, whooping and screaming, shouting out, "YO! We'll get you NEXT time!"

I looked back to the other guy who had been attacked before me, and he was safe, but standing, overwhelmed and in shock, I am sure. I think he was dialing his phone. I got inside my apartment building doors as fast as I could and dialed 911. Well, I tried to dial. Suddenly, all of my calmness left me and I was shaking SO much; I couldn't dial! I was so shaken that I missed walking past my apartment floor and walked all the way to the rooftop doors! When I finally dialed and got through to the police, I was horrified that the response was, "Well, sir, if you aren't still with your attackers, there isn't anything we can do. Call if they attack you again."

WHAT!!!!?????

And all of this happened in the bright daylight of the afternoon with plenty of people around.

This is no less than the third attack I have witnessed from Black people upon other people in just the past 6 months, from group beatings, theft, and shooting rubber bullets at people's heads as they drove by. And all of this just on MY block!

The only violence I have ever seen imposed so freely and openly upon another person or persons has come from Black people upon other races, motivated by the racial difference.

Why is this happening?? Why is this so freely overlooked and dismissed? Why is it perpetuated and tolerated?

For instance, if any other person of any other racial origin had said similar racist things as what was said so freely at Coney Island, there would have been a riot. I cannot imagine saying (or THINKING, for that matter), that I "hate the smell of Black people" or shouting out to a Black person to "go back to Africa!" and being cheered on.

I seriously hope this is just a social pendulum swing effect that is the result of our (as in, "all people," not just White People) idiotic history of violence and racism toward Blacks and that we will eventually find a balance that is good and healthy for everyone. I really hope I live to see that.

Until then, how is the average, kind, evolved, socialized Black, Hispanic, White, Asian, etc. person supposed to deal with such entitled acts of hostility and violence? As a White person, my concerns and complaints are the fastest to be dismissed, as it is generally accepted that I either deserve the attacks just by the very fact of my skin color, or that I am exaggerating.

Acts of violence, whether fueled by Racism, or not, are awful for anyone. Acts of violence, whether physical or mental or verbal, are awful for anyone. Believe me, my skin color doesn't protect me, and attacking lil ole me, or a young, Hispanic couple minding their own business, isn't going to help heal our historically ignorant past...

...but it does keep all of us stuck there.

Sock It To Ya!

Something funny:

Today I am working from my laptop while at a cafe because I am waiting for my dog, Spyder, to get her hair all groomed up. We had to be at the groomer's by 8am! Yikes! Spyder and I stayed with Clem last night so we could play in the dog run near his apartment, which meant that I had some clothes with me in my giant back pack this morning.

Well, to make a long story short, I had to unexpectedly buy some woman a coffee this morning.

As I had been setting up at a table, pulling out my laptop, keeping my coffee balanced, finding a spot for my big back pack, I had also whipped out the power cord. I suddenly heard a woman's confused and startled voice burst out an, "OHhhhhh!" and then a, "OH my GOD!?"

I only wanted to glance with half-interest at whatever drama she was having, until I realized I was the cause of it.

As I had whipped out my power cord from my bag, flinging off of it, and sailing a short distance... was one of my dirty socks... right into her coffee! All I could do was share in her horror as I recoiled at the sight of a sock hanging from a venti coffee, slowly soaking up brownness. I didn't even respond appropriately, at first, because I have weird reactions to gross things, so my first reaction was to wince and scrunch up my face, looking away, then looking back, then looking away, as I tried to comprehend a SOCK hanging out of a coffee, let alone MY dirty sock!

I bought her a replacement coffee immediately and she gave me my sock back.

Then, we both laughed, and laughed...

Good Morning, New York City!!

Ps. For what it's worth, my dirty clothes hardly ever actually smell or look dirty (cuz I's so clean!) but still... it was a dirty sock.

An Angel on Ruskin

My Day has been made:


Elizabeth Fraser "sings" LIVE with "The Bathers" on Scottish Television!

(NOTE: be patient as it loads. REFRESH the page if it doesn't load right away)

(TIP: press pause until you see that at least half of the video is loaded, or completely loaded, then press play again)

If you have a hard time understanding Elizabeth, here are the lyrics to this song. She "sings" in an entirely unique way:

The Angel on Ruskin
Believe it or not there’s an angel on Ruskin
I saw her up there with my own green eyes
She danced alone among the chimneys
Her golden wings caught the evening sun

// ELIZABETH SINGS:
Hardly knew if I was still breathing
As I lost my way on the eastern stairs
She trashed my car she trashed my paintings
Oh As ribbons flew from her midnight hair //

I was always in love’s power
yes, yes, down in love’s power
down on my knees

All was lost and
All was broken
Brought to heel
Like an anxious guest
On the eastern stairs
I stole some token
I chased a kiss
On her golden crest

I was always down in love’s power
Yes yes, always down in love’s power
Down on my knees
You would fall
Should you look into her eyes

Believe it or not there’s an angel on Ruskin
I hear her laugh and I hear her sing
There’s evil abroad there’s a stranger on Ruskin
And memory lies like a girl on the wing

DIRECT LINK TO VIDEO
http://www.youtube.com/v/cbPhJPY1iKc

Insularity is not Hilarity

Well, in addition to all of the work I have to do to catch up, I also have to begin my serious interest in learning Spanish as my second language. I know a little French because of two years in high school, but I could hardly call it a second language. I've always wanted to learn a second language FLUENTLY, but I just never did. I'm sure that's familiar to many.

However, now my interest in learning a second language has moved from being an interest, to being a necessity. I am confronted at least twice a week with a situation where I cannot communicate to anyone around me, especially in my neighborhood. Over the years this situation has extended from a social level and into the service industry, and unless I know Spanish, I am unable to communicate to those who are offering the service.

I think it is specifically limited to more insular communities, such as parts of my neighborhood, and I've seen some of this in New Jersey, too. It's not limited to Spanish-speaking communities, because I also remember not being able to find anyone who spoke English in parts of Queens where Chinese is the primary language. I think it is the insularity that promotes this extended lack of ability to speak English, which I believe is just fine, but not in the service industry.

Just today, it took nearly 10 minutes for someone to be able to understand my order at a MACDONALD's. (Yes, I know, why am I at a MacDonald's in the first place, LOL!)No one around me spoke English, and none of the workers who were available spoke English. I was kept waiting while they searched to find someone to translate and speak English. This was the second time this has happened in this particular MacDonald's. Unless all I have to do is point at a number for my order, I cannot order what I want. The reason there was confusion is because there is a new promotion for the way MacDonald's offers their coffee. You are supposed to indicate whether you prefer "SMOOTH" or "BOLD," and if you want cream and/or sugar to be added. No one could understand what I was trying to order, even though it was high-profile promotion that prompts a response!

Little things go a long way in creating an insular community. Even the gross Taco Bell in my neighborhood has no promotional posters in English.

By the way: yes, I like fast food. Gross. But I do.

I think if I live in a primarily-hispanic/latin community, or a primarily-Asian community, I expect to see and hear a lot of Spanish, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, etc, and I want to learn to speak what I can, but I don't know if it's such a healthy thing for a community to move into such insularity that it cuts out the rest of your world.

This prompts me to want to learn other languages even more, because insularity on a small scale is one thing, but the United States is insular on a larger scale, and I don't want to contribute to that.

Electric Light Dorkestra II

Well, the electricians are "done." And take a look at what is meant by "done."

BELOW are the images showing how the electricians thought it was a great idea to remove ALL sockets from one side of the kitchen, but to put ONE behind the refridgerator. Of course, because the socket box is already huge, with something plugged into it, it is even more obtrusive, so now the refridgerator sticks out almost a FOOT from the wall. The only other sockets they left in the kitchen are next to the SINK, instead of above the large counter space!

SOCKET BEHIND THE REFRIDGERATOR


HUGE GAP BETWEEN WALL and BACK OF FRIDGE


FRIDGE USED TO BE NEARLY FLUSH WITH THE COUNTER


HOLE IN FLOOR that actually allows us to see the apartment BELOW us!

Electric Light Dorkestra

My apartment is under siege by electricians, construction workers, and other interruptive sources. As a process toward residentializing our warehouse apartment building, we must all be put on our own meters. Previously, we were paying a percentage of the entire floor's electric usage, which was sort of silly, but because our building was commercial, that's really the only option we had.

We moved into our building just as a transition came into effect, with new landlords buying out our landlord, and changing EVERYTHING. Most of the changes are for the point of making our building legitimately residential, which is a good thing, but other changes have been put into place that are clearly just for profit, such as replacing the floor's laundry machines with smaller, coin-operated ones (they were large and free to use, before).

The work being done in the apartments is shoddy, sloppy, and ugly. Instead of wiring the apartments nicely, they are running EXTERNAL piping all around and putting in these large boxes as outlets, while leaving the previous, flush outlets nearby.


It's really ugly.

They are also adding some sort of mandatory lighting from the ceiling.

They are ripping holes in the walls that will not be repaired, and god knows what else over the course of this... They won't be done until NEXT Monday.


Just thought I'd leave a post now, when I have a chance, in case I am unable to post for a while, since the internet and electricity are being screwy while they work over this week.

Weave Me Alone!

I had to write about this...

On the way home from lunch with my freakin' amazing boyfriend, Clem, I saw something hilarious:

I was riding the J Train, which goes above ground in Brooklyn, and so a lot of people are on their phones, talking or texting. Well, this lovely young-ish woman with a lovely weave was standing with her back to the doors, texting. The train stopped, but she refused to step out of the way; instead, just glancing over her shoulder and making the new passenger boarding have to step around her. She smugly went back to her texting, concentrating on her ghetto-y phone with too many features.

The doors closed behind her.

ON HER WEAVE!

She had pulled her weave back really tight in the front, but had the back wound up in a kind of handle, like a pan handle, so it was sticking out beyond the hood of her coat. The doors closed on her weave, but didn't open again, as they should have! She didn't even realize it, at first, until she went to turn her head. I know other people saw it, but no one reacted because it was kinda hilarious and she was not in danger. She couldn't move her head down, or to the left or right, and all she did was hold very still and just stare with darting bug-eyes, as if she was trying to act like it had not happened. She even tried to text again, but apparently couldn't concentrate with her new weave leash.

I don't know why it was so funny to see this bitchy, rude girl harnessed by the back of her weave to the very door she refused to move away from for others...

At the next stop, I had to bury my face in my arm to stifle laughing, because the man who stepped up to the doors from the platform was kind of just waiting for the doors to open and then he pulled his neck back and made an "ohhhh..." face as he realized some hair was stickin' out of the door at him!

The woman darted from the doors as they opened, reaching back and feeling her weave handle, muttering hateful sounds, and then returned to her texting...

...from a seat, this time.

Only Fear Can Stand On Potential's Hand

I am so disoriented these days: happy and distracted; elated and frightened; freed and troubled... I am an experience of Spectrum. Wandering my inner landscape like a giddy, but lost, child. Wandering my outer, seemingly new world like a giddy, but lost, child. Everything in the world, in my world, is all the same and so utterly different right now.

I love that I feel like a child of life, but I hate it, too. The good side of living and being child-like is that all of life, the good and bad, has an element of adventure to it; an element of optimism and absolute safety, but the bad side of living and being child-like is that all of life, the good and the
bad, has an element of terror to it; an element of disappointment and absolute aloneness.

How can we remain innocent, yet gain experience and evolve? It seems a complicated conundrum when I try to reconcile the reality of my innocence and the reality of my painful history. At once I see the world like a great, awe-inspiring game of Chutes & Ladders, but I keep getting blood on everything I touch, weeping from the scrapes and bruises that litter my skin and soul. How can I play this compelling game and stop feeling so immediately fragile? How can
I tend to my aches and pains without getting a mess on my playmates?

I think the answer isn’t in steering my life toward one extreme or another, but in steering life into the space of people who are as dirty-faced, bleeding, and playful as I. We are never alone or stupid or in need of a facade just to get through this life. When did I begin believing so absolutely that I needed to do this alone? When did it begin to matter so desperately whether another person accepted me and my failures, flaws, and flailings? It's weird when one really tries to think about where one began thinking awful things about himself or herself, and more importantly, when did we REALLY start to BELIEVE that shit?

It surprises me how much I have tricked myself into these extremes between doing it ALL by myself, offering smiles and wisdom to all around, yet selecting one person (usually my boyfriend) to be THE ONE who gets all of the weeping wounds and scrambling anxieties. I save all of that for him. If HE can accept that mess, then it will finally be true that I am OK!! HE gets to decide this for me, though, of course. I don’t. I get to displace my power and my self-love into his hands, and I eventually spill my secret ugliness into his space, into his life, and then I wait…

I don’t wait to be loved, though. I wait to be told I am too much. I wait to be told I am too troubled, too childish, too irritating, too SOMETHING, or not enough… not enough something.

And if effort is made to really embrace me, I immediately move myself into a state of suspicion, because what kind of person could love THIS. Something must be wrong with him.

On the other hand, my friends; my beautiful friends, who have lived with, and loved me through all of these exposures, I rarely give credit for how perfect their love is for me. They don’t count, you see, because I assume they are getting the best of me, filtering myself into a servant of kindness, support, and compassion because THEY need; I am beyond their help, you see, so I don't need them. But I have my duties as friend! And it’s the boyfriend who gets to be
the litmus test of my value. OF COURSE my friends are going to love me; they don’t get the messy me. But, if Boyfriend loves me... I am saved.

HA! What a bunch of bullshit.

If you are messy, you are messy. I’m messy. (We are ALL messy?) I get myself all over the place and my friends deserve a lifetime achievement award for putting up with me, loving me, and letting me.

Things are different now with my Love, this time, with Clem.

I found out on my trip to Austin with him just how messy I am. I showcased my flaws in the pattern of me at the most opportune time. I didn't do this purposely, but some part of me knew exactly when to draw my broken side to the front of me, and do my best to scare Clem away.

It almost worked.

I saw something so glaringly obvious about my behavior and I can never go back to the unconscious ride through these patterns.

I grew up this week.

It’s not that I have ever meant to be the way I describe, above, but I think we can so easily get settled into these patterns of reaction and action and then we wonder why we keep sliding off the curvy, twisted road that we paved, ourselves, and into the ditch. It’s easy to get right back onto that road and start the ride again, doing the same thing. A point comes, though, when you begin to see the signs, the patterns, and while we can’t transform who we are immediately, we
CAN begin to take responsibility with the map we begin to piece together of ourselves.

I found a really important part of my map while in Austin with Clem. I now feel I’ve discarded the bulky, outdated RV I’ve been driving through life and traded my wheels in for a more manageable bicycle. I realize I started off in this life with more than I could handle, and I continued living that way until it has nearly killed me (even if only on the inside). Instead of overloading my wheels with people I think I can save (and then crashing all of us into the ditch), I just need to ride my bike. Now, I just have to navigate carefully, kindly, and keep my balance.

I know my metaphors can seem melodramatic and corny, but hey, I’m kinda melodramatic and corny, so there.

So… Ok... and the biggest news I've found in me over my trip to Austin is: I’ve fallen in love with Clem.

There. I said it.

I’ve had a growing, respectful, resistant, and beautiful merging with him as we’ve dated, and at one point, I knew I loved him, but now I am in love with
him.

In my time with Clem in Austin, submerged in his world and bombarded by activity, I found the soft spots of my insecurities and fears. And, Good Lord, so did Clem. And he didn't reject me, or try to console me... he let me baste in my own shit, standing off to the side with the most compassionate patience I have ever seen.

In my world I am usually in service and in control, but in Clem’s world, I was a passenger (for once). I had no footing. I had no reference. I was left with nothing, but me. While I had an amazing time, I was also all alone. Not because no one was around, of course, but because I became hyper-aware of every single irritating and dominating insecurity I have ever had in a relationship with a boyfriend (and myself). I saw my jealousy spike; my overreactions churn me; my sensitivity scratch at me; and my fight/flight mechanisms tearing me apart. I saw exactly what instigated each of these instances and how I could so easily have left the blame on the moment, or even on Clem.

I’ve never been one to blame someone else for MY feelings or my reactions, but it’s easy to leave the blame on the moment. I’ve slowly learned over the years that I can’t even leave the experience in a moment. As long as I leave the blame on the moment (or on another person), I have left a part of me behind, and leaving pieces of you behind is like tearing up your map of life and blindly swatting your way forward in the dark.

For some people, falling in love is like a drug that offers a kind of euphoria, escape, and the world changes temporarily, but for me, falling in love (with Clem) is like a wake-up call, a profound, inescapable reflection, and while I still feel the cheesy, corny, love-song feelings of being on top of the world, I also feel a deep responsibility to be a better person and my world has changed, forever. I’m changing, not FOR Clem, but WITH Clem. I’m changing naturally and because I like it.

I hope Clem likes it, too. I hope he will still love me as I learn, grow, and become better at being me.

I have to say that Clem is the first guy I have ever loved because of who he IS, not who I believe he can be (for me, or for himself). Many times I have loved a person, as friend or boyfriend, because I could see that person’s potential behind his or her fears, but I have RARELY come to love someone because he or she is already there. Clem IS his potential, unfolding in a way that is utterly inspiring to me.

Now, it’s me I love for my potential beyond my fears… for the first time. Who knew that all I've ever been is "potential." It's easy to hide behind potential, but I now begin the exciting journey to actualize myself in a way I apparently never realized I wasn't doing.

Thank you, Clem. Thank you, Friends.

We Suck

Phewwww... Clem and I are home, again! I'll explain the above, later... heh heh.

LIVE: from Austin, TX III

Still in Texas...

Lisa Germano stole the night for me, though. She was already singing when we entered the venue, but I could feel her voice cradling the crowd immediately. Listening to her sing is like acknowledging your broken wings and feeling absolutely safe.

This tiny little clip does no justice for her art, but it's something to share. I cannot wait for her new album!! Check out the clip, below.

CELEBRITY SIGHTINGS while in Austin, so far:
* Owen Wilsen
* A comedian I will have to figure out when I have the time
* Tom Cruise's Cousin (the one who plays "Ethan" - one of the "OTHERS" on the island of LOST)
* and most exciting! FREDDY RODRIGUEZ of Six Feet Under (Federico) He even patted me and said hi! YAY!!

(clip from "FROM A SHELL")

DIRECT LINK:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=4ETk0rOO_W0

LIVE: from Austin, TX II

Still in Austin, of course, but reporting in!

I grabbed these two quick clips of one of the most fun bands ever. Their lyrics are adorable and thoughtful; somehow being like grown-up versions of children songs.

THE BOY LEAST LIKELY TO
LINK: http://www.theboyleastlikelyto.co.uk/
MYSPACE: http://www.myspace.com/theboyleastlikelytouk

MONSTERS
(lyrics from clip: coming soon)

DIRECT LINK:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=e2mcg69R4jo


BE GENTLE WITH ME
(lyrics in clip:)
So just be gentle with me
(And if I am ever mean)
And I'll be gentle with you
I never mean to be mean
'Cause I want to pick peaches off of a cherry tree.
Just be gentle, be gentle, be gentle,
Be gentle with me.

DIRECT LINK:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=Uic7nNOpdlY

LIVE: from Austin, TX

Whoosh!

This year is turning out to be jammed-packed full of experiences of which I have yet to document! The task of doing so will be daunting, but I've already started, so there should be a post within the month, after all!

Clem has treated me to this trip to Austin, TX to see friends and experience the festival and it has been an amazing experience. I can't wait to write more about it. Until then, take a look at a couple of clips I recorded during SXSW aka South By South West; a more-than-week-long music festival with all kinds of great artists, new and familiar!

GOLDFRAPP: Live at Austin Music Hall
DIRECT LINK:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=N_DWqPRLQwU

MORRISSEY: Live at Austin Music Hall
DIRECT LINK:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Zm4Bs5nj6I

The Argument for Moderation

Well, okay, now I've gone to the dark side. With the influential sway of intelligence as posted by JANE in the comments section of my post on Censorship, I will now resort to MODERATION of my comments section.

You know, there just comes a point where you grow sick of sick people and spam.

Within minutes of my most recent post, my comments had a fake profile being used as a means to spam promotion for a magazine. Enforcing a profile does nothing to stop this crap. I also know that within minutes the creepy creeps will descend upon my words and leave shit stains as they scoot out their only means of communicating.

So, sorry everyone. ALL of you can now comment, with or without a blogger profile, but your comment will pass through my MODERATION to scrape out ONLY the FAKE profiles pushing spam, and the REAL assholes who may leave shit stains.

Thanks for your understanding.

Troy aka CocteauBoy aka Otterly

The Saliva Blizzard of Music

So, have you been wondering where I have been? Well, so have I.

First, my reasons for lack of blogging in this instance is the same as all other instances: LIFE. Yeah, it happens. I get busy and then I think, "I'll write about this when I get a chance." but then that chance is taken by yet another incident of LIFE. Crazy.

Still, here's some of what I've been up to:

A TALE OF SIALOLITHIASIS

One night, as I was eating, I felt a strange swelling experience begin in my left cheek. It HURT. It felt like my jaw was locking and swelling at the same time. Did I mention that this HURT? It did. I did what I usually do if I experience a wave of pain in some way; I just "ride it" and try to let it pass. This swelling/locking came, peaked, then seemed to "melt" away. It just went away. I thought it was a tooth ache or something. I've never had a tooth ache, but I thought that's the only thing it could have been, and judging by the pain I experienced in those moments, I was terrified that this was something I would have to endure until I could afford a dentist. I was so glad that it passed!

The next morning I was eating homemade waffles made by Clem and as I ate them, I felt the pain begin again, faintly. By the time I was done eating, it was really beginning to hurt. As I readied myself for the day, it got worse. I knew something was terribly wrong when Clem brought me a Potato Chip and AS IT NEARED MY MOUTH, my face swelled! The chip did not even have to touch my tongue! At this point, visible swelling had occurred.

I had no idea what was happening, but I figured it might pass again, so I "rode it out" most of the day, until I began to cook dinner. As I had not eaten since the morning waffles, I was getting hungry. I could barely drink liquids at this point, but as I was cooking, it seemed the swelling dissolved again in that weird "melting" way. I thought it was over. Then I started eating.

With every spoon-approach toward my mouth, I could feel the side of my face swell. I forced myself to eat, even though I could only take teeny bites because of the pain. By the time I was done eating, the pain had kind of subsided, compared to when it started, so I thought this thing was going to pass again.

It didn't.

Instead, as I took my dish to the kitchen and saw my reflection in the mirror, I gasped! I realized that the space behind my left cheek had swollen so much that I couldn't turn my head, and the swelling was the size of an elongated grapefruit.

I immediately began searching on the internet for what my symptoms might mean. It turned up several considerations, but of all of them, I narrowed it down to:

SIALOLITHIASIS

Yeah, I know. WHAT?

Apparently, I had a blocked saliva gland! Here is an image of my swollen cheek vs a couple of days after, when the swelling completely disappeared. The image below does not do justice to how bad it actually got, but, much to the chagrin of my friends, I insisted on documenting this, LOL!

BEFORE & AFTER

So, it became necessary to finally go to the Emergency Room. My experience was one of mixed emotions. The staff was very nice and friendly, but there was an element of unprofessionalism that left me mortified. For instance, as I approached the doctor, he began asking me questions about my condition as I stood in front of the lobby, with everyone listening. That's not THAT big of a deal, but it was a little embarassing. More embarassing was when he sighed heavily, shook his head and walked away from me. I stood there, perplexed and in pain, and had no idea what to do. He then turned back to me and said, "Well, COME ON!" So I sheepishly followed him into the area where they treat everyone. It was soon revealed to me why he sighed and shook his head. He looked at my swollen cheek and with such concern asked me if I had any children. I said, No. He said to brace myself, but with the condition he could see I had, it would be very unlikely that I would ever be able to have children. WHAT!!?? I wanted to react and say, well, I don't want any children and I'm gay, so unless a miracle of biology occurs, I am already assuming I won't be having any. Instead, I said, well, what could I possibly have that you could tell just from looking at my cheek!? Of course, he took the route of consoling me as if I was reacting to my sudden, shocking news of being infertile. He told me that it was just a "high probability," but that I might still be able to have children, even if they wouldn't be healthy. WHAT!! So I said, Doctor, that's not my concern. My concern is that I don't think I have anything THAT serious. I think I just have a blocked saliva gland. He then went on to explain to me about adult "Mumps" and something else that I think started with a "d," but I insisted he ask someone else to see me. He looked at me woefully, as if the news of my infertility was the cause of my questioning, but I just couldn't believe he only GLANCED at me and told me this "news." I kept thinking about the effect this would have had on someone to whom this meant something devestating!

A second doctor came in, finally, (much to annoyance of the original doctor) and checked me out. This doctor, however, actually opened my mouth and looked inside with a light. He asked me questions as he immediately ruled out what the first doctor had concluded. I suggested to the new doctor that I had what was called, "Sialolithiasis," and he said, Oh Yeah, it COULD be that!

I was just sitting there in shock that I knew more about what I had than these two professionals!

This second doctor called in a THIRD doctor who specialized in mouth and oral and teeth.

Meanwhile, the First doctor had already written for me two massive prescriptions as treatment for HIS diagnosis.

This third doctor was immediately more obvious in her confidence and education as she approached me. I told her I thought I had a blocked saliva gland and she said, yes, that's obvious. I was so relieved to have this woman finally listen to me and KNEW what I was talking about!

In the end, they told me there was nothing they could do, but I was scheduled for a more detailed examination for the morning.

I went home in pain with two crazy prescriptions; one for pain, one for powerful antibodies, and between the two, the cost would be approximately $200. I didn't get the presciptions. I was in such pain, I really wanted them, but I could not bring myself to spend that money on PILLS! It just seems ridiculous. I consider myself "poor," but I also know I am not as poor as a really poor person and I don't know how someone could ever survive our medical and health industry.

ha: "medical" and "health" are such misnomers.

By the time I got to my appointment the next morning, my face had reduced in swelling quite a bit. The doctor told me there was no indication of a blockage anymore and that there really wasn't anything that could be done. It had "worked itself out." It had.

I have had no symptoms, since.

But I nearly had a heart attack when I got a bill for $700. In addition to the prescriptions, this visit where NOTHING of any significance was done, AND where *I* did all of the accurate diagnosing, *I* was charged nearly $1000!!

This is an atrocity.

My friends Cyprus and Johnny, and my boyfriend Clem, stayed with me throughout the entire ordeal, with my friends Cyprus and Johnny waiting the long hours in the waiting room of the emergency room, and Clem rushing out into the night to meet us, stay the night with me, and make sure I got to the hospital the next morning, enduring the day with me.

I appreciate and love these guys so much.

Poor Nick was out with his friend, Chrissy, when he got Cyprus's dramatic v-mail about my being in the Emergency Room. Apparently the first message explaining the details was lost or muffled or something, so Nick's second v-mail message had Cyprus speaking calmly about how I was now in the Emergency Room being observed, etc. and Nick about passed out from the horror of what might have happened to me.

I will miss these guys when I do die. I think I am very loved and wanted, even when I think I am not.

BLIZZARD '06!!

Finally, some snow!! In our unnatural, god-awfully WARM winter of '06, we were finally slammed with a blizzard! Umm, except it disappeared completely within a couple of days, and returned back to the 50's and 60's (though, today it has again plummetted to the 20's! YAY!).

BOYFRIEND CLEM n BLIZZARD

FIND THE CAR

I love the snow. I love Winter. I love Spring and Fall. I dread and dislike Summer the most. I hate humidity and sweat and stinky people and hot vaginas in closed spaces and moistness on faces. The only thing good about Summer is the hot, shirtlessness that graces our streets and parks, but even then I hate it because I'm not hot like that; just HOT, as in fuckin' sweating to death. If I could walk around and show off some sizzlin' abs, maybe I'd feel differently.

Someone want to get me into shape? Someone should be my mentor.

Anyone?

CONCERTS

I've been able to see some great concerts over the past month, or so, and I wish I could keep up with my documentation of these! Saint Etienne (or here) sounded gorgeous, even if a bit bland, and LOW were as wonderful as ever. I love them so much. The big surprise was hearing His Name Is Alive, LIVE! I didn't know what to expect, but I kind of expected a lot of chaos, and there was NO chaos! It was a most beautiful, pleasant, emotional set they played. I was so happy to hear them! I long to see them again very soon. Below are some pix!

SAINT ETIENNE @ IRVING PLAZA

SAINT ETIENNE @ IRVING PLAZA

SAINT ETIENNE @ IRVING PLAZA

HIS NAME IS ALIVE @ BOWERY BALLROOM

Warn DeFever of HNIA (above)

HNIA @ Bowery Ballroom (above)

LOW @ BOWERY BALLROOM
sans Zak Sally :(

Boyfriend CLEM n Boyfriend Troy
Post Concert & Pre-Blizzard

Happy Medium

Due to the exploitation of the "anonymous" option for leaving comments, you are now required to have a Blogger Account as a means to post your words. This is the only option I have, short of censorship, which I will NOT support. I despise censorship in any form, and as you can see from the history of my blog comments, I have tolerated "anonymous" attacks on me just fine. So while I do NOT support Censorship, I DO support OWNERSHIP, Responsibility, and Courage behind words so easily dumped into the space outside of your frickin' head.

I appreciate ALL viewpoints and even the idiotic insults, but I think it's time for my blog stalker/s(?) to own up to the words so easily tossed here.

Please forgive this situation and take just a couple of moments to sign up with Blogger and show your support for helping bring some ownership to the cowardly words of blog stalkers and drive-by haters around the world!

What are your feelings about this?

Project Runway: New York Style!

Okay, for those of you who enjoy PROJECT RUNWAY as much as I, here is a lovely piece of footage I personally filmed while I worked today from my laptop, out and about! I love New York! Listen closely at the end of the footage as the man catches me filming him. He bitches me all out, all loudly... he says, "Aaaa doan giv uh shit how publick this shit is...!!" And he went on to scream that what he was doing in the middle of a STARBUCKS (hello!) in NYC (hello!) was "PRIVATE."

Give me a break, bitch. I just smiled at him appreciatively and thought about how much I love New York!

AUF WIEDERSEHEN!

TIP: After you press the PLAY Button, pause the feed until the status bar indicates most of the footage is buffered, as this will give you a MUCH better video-viewing experience.

NOTE: if you receiving this post through your rss reader or feedblitz subscription, please visit SugarHiccup-Hiccup to see the video! YAY!

OR GO HERE