Drunk again.....

   I was recently asked by a friend,"Why havent you blogged as of late"?

   Truth be told, I have been steeping in a hot simmering bath of self loathing and pity.   A common feature of this Alcoholic.

   I picked up the bottle again, in the past month.  It was a short drinking binge.  A few giant bottles of Blackberry Brandy.   It went down well enough.....I did too.    I was alone.  I chose to be alone. I rented a hotel room, and I drank in solitude. A type of torture in hindsight. I planned it. I acted on my desire to be free of the right way of living.

    For those of you who dont know me well, Im a fairly nervous guy. I have plenty of reason to be so. I come off in person as confident, outspoken, judgmental.  All decent covers for who I am on the inside.

   I had been sober for 13 months before I picked up again. It is the first significant effort I have ever made to discover, who I am, and why I do the things I do.  It is a journey of self, that has its share of rough roads, cloudy skies, tears, and laughter, for its certainly by no means an easy ride.

  I have for the past 18 years been running on high levels of anxiety and regular negatory self talk, and lifestyle. I punish myself most everyday at some point.  Where did I learn this seamless constant stream of nonsense?

Anyway, thats alot to delve into and I will try to put into words, what its like.

   After my binge, I had to detox...in other words, shake, sweat, pain so deep in the bones it hardly seems decent enough to be alive. Hollowed out and scared shitless, the shakes come on, so great it feels like the joints will come apart.....God gone, nowhere in sight, the mercy it seems will never come....It hurts so bad....For me it takes about 4 days of shaking....Palpitations on the regular, as if the chest will open right up and spit my heart out.    My poor friend Charlie watched me go through this again, hes seen it several times.   I stink to high heaven, first of alcohol, then Urea, a piss like smell, due to the reaction in the body of practical poisoning, the kidneys working so hard, they felt kicked in severely for a few days, I was worried and considered going to the hospital. But pride steps in and I face it like a "man".. RIIIGGGHHHTTTT......All I can do is lay down and wait, paralyzed again....Fear filled and shamed, all by my own hand.   Most everyone I know is wondering where I am, whats going on, and why I disappeared, but they already know, because they know me.  A day passes, and I havent slept, the discomfort of my shell is unbearable...."Take me away"....Thoughts come and go as easily as my responsibilities. To myself and to others.   You see, when I pick up, it does more damage than what this little body gets, it spreads out into the community and hurts others too.  Vivid REM sleep provides me with nightmares and real, really real visions of terror I can create in my head.  Short stints of this and its hardly worth closing my eyes.   I crave and wait, crave and wait, Booze would would stop this terrible event, but its booze that got me here in the first place.  So I have to keep moving forward.

   After a few days the self pity sets in, and I trudge forward....carefully, and really nerve shocked, I can barely drive without being so frightened that I only go for cigarettes and then retreat, off the road to the safety of home.

   Lately, because of the most awesome efforts I have made in the past year, I can safely put aside the pity party early, clean up and start again. I have learned an immense lesson here, this time.

   I asked myself, how does such a small body manage to contain so much, jealousy, hatred,self loathing, judgements, deadening comparisons,fear, low level self esteem, ego, pride, confusion, and sheer neglect of the obvious? How does the heart not blow right out? It takes some serious practice and belief to hold on to such things.   It becomes such a fantasy to believe sometimes....but does it?

   What I hadnt realized during the past year, is that the same shit that used to haunt me as a teenager, as a result of an awful upbringing, wasnt ever, drowned out by 18 years of drinking, and the nerves, and the thoughts that I have in sobriety are still as immature and unreal as they were when I was 15.  This thought makes me sick, but its true.  I have barely grown inside more than an ounce since I picked up my first drinks, in a Mc Donalds parking lot, in 1993. This stunning revelation is just that.

   In the past year I have had great success at facing some of my most ugly behaviors and results. However,on the other hand, I havent explored the reasons behind such things. It comes easily to me, to confess, to share, to admit.   Its whole other pie when it comes down to looking at how my own talk in my skull has detached me from reality.

   "Youll never amount to anything,just like your Father"  "I wish I had aborted you", "Your just gonna be a fag"  " I wish you would die" ......These are words of my Mother......

"You cant do nothin right"  You dont deserve this after all the shit youve done" "What a  piece of shit"  "Completely useless"  "You dont even look halfway decent"   "Everybody looks better than me"  "You look sick"   "Why bother trying?" ......These are now my own words in 2012.....practice,practice,practice....   You tend to learn by example, and if it isnt really looked at through the lense of reality....I will continue to suffer and drag those whom I love and those who love me, through a hell hole, or even worse turn their backs and save themselves.


    I have a twisted sight of my life.....as if the awful parts are still in front rather than behind. Im not a typical fag, I try to distance myself as hard as I can from the stereo types, as if its something negative...I judge, I run, I scoff at reality.

   I compare, because I havent accepted that I am gonna be me as long as I live, no amount of money, make up, cars, jobs,standards will change this fact.   Only whats in my head, in time, if I can be patient enough, can and will shift.  Apparently from what I hear, is when these very basic ideas have been looked at analyzed and perceived differently,can happiness ever be connected to the heart.

   I love my brains, but I pray on the daily that the thoughts that I have been able to change in the past year, will reach my heart and that I will start crying not out of pain, but of joy.


   The anxiety that I experience such as with school(Im learning to be a big rig truck driver)....Is huge, I have alot of self doubt, shame, a sense that I cant.  When I drive to school, I am so nerve wrecked I can barely concentrate.  I love trucks, I love the grease , the filth, the masculiness of the lifestyle, and the freedom that comes along with it.   But I hesitate.  I run when it gets too hot in the kitchen.....I get all afraid, then I have a hissy fit.  Just like a teenager might when he or she doesnt get what they want.    This is just an example.

   The practice of projection comes easy to me, I learned it by believing what my Mother said"Youll be just like your Father"   I never forgot it, and I practiced projecting from then on in.....Truly those words made their way to my heart and sealed inside for a lifetime, thus far.  I project that I will die alone, maybe drunk, maybe not. I project that I will likely die of a heart attack. I project that I will be average in all the ways of life, forever.  I project I will get sick, and not be able to recover.  I always project I will never have a partner that I can share love with.   I also more importantly project that I will never love myself enough to love another to begin with.

   During the past year, I have been so thrilled opening up Pandora's box of goodies that is ME.  Some of the stuff, I explored is copable within the confines of another Alcoholic....The sharing the understanding, the tears that come from knowing that some of these things I do not hold exclusively to myself.

   Then there are the much more significant sorts of ideas that I have in my head that must be explored with a professional, something I have not considered.  I am not a mental case, just strewn along the incorrect path, harboring long held beliefs that if not dealt with, will kill the soul inside. I dont wanna die. Not yet.  I have barely scratched the surface of what makes me, ME.


    Forgive me for lacking in the blogosphere........I have returned.

Never let where you start dictate the destination.

   

Snowtime Stories.....

"Oh God, Winter is on its way, and I was wondering, like, How do snowmen multiply without snow women? And how in the world does a Snowman get some? Weird....

Maybe they are attracted by the size of the carrot nose? Scraggly twig arms? Doesn't that feel a bit awkward when being intimate? "Sorry, I left bark in your bed", How embarrassing..... And coal stains on the sheets?~!!!! Gross! I will continue to ponder this until I find the truth......Stay tuned...."
  

How to Kill A Snowman

First you get real MAD because it snowed so effin early, WHAT THE HELL?! Then, you watch and wait, the snow comes, it falls all over the place....Goddammit! Ruined! Ruined the freshly cut lawn is.......I hate you SNOW!

You go to sleep wrapped in a million pounds of blankets cuz you barely had time YET to get the furnace ready, Shithead snow!

You get up, and of course its freezing, this is Bull Ony if you ask me, My feet are like blocks of ice on the hardwood floor-Real Nice...... But then.......You realize....

Youre late for work now cuz you havent made your lunch and you have to go out and start the truck so it warms up! GREAT! Crazy Eyes start to set in..........

You step outside to slip on the first step,Bang,bang,bang down the steps- FucK! OUCH!

Then you see it.....A Snowman! Thats it! First you punch its face right in, and off.... Then you kick its frosty cold ass straight across the lawn....Carrot nose, my ass!

Die Snowman, DIE!

A Grand Flushing...

It has been quite a year....On December 3 2010, I made a decision that has changed my days. It has changed me.   It has changed others that I toouch, and those who touch me.  In affect it has changed the world.

   Its funny to me how we sometimes imagine such things, like, what if Abraham Lincoln hadnt been shot?  Or what if Tesla hadnt figured out how to finish that last critical piece of mechanical wisdom we all now take for granted, and know as Electricity?   Now obviously these examples are far more significant than my putting the bottle away......But is it really any different?

   I like to think, these days, that each step everyone of us makes, good or bad, glad or sad, for more or for less, connects us to the divine.  In a tiny way I am part of all the reality all around.

   In all honesty, there are days when I think, I am the pinnacle of such things....HAHAHAHAHA, such delusion.  Indeed, it is fun to fantasize.

   I have come to understand in a very profound way that each move I make today, this moment, even witing this, will affect change in some way or another, beginning, with these thoughts, pushed out, effortlessly,over a small wire, into the air, then into Your Eyes.....from there, I couldnt possibly predict what happens in between those eyes.....that will all be revealed one day...... The point being, is CONNECTION to the world, instead of my certain sickly way of thinking, that was created and nurtured by my dear friend Alcohol.

   I am PART of everything, rather than a singledout, silent observer of great things, bad things, happening to others.

   I have in this past year created a vastly common, normal living. I work, I pay for things, I try new stuff, I cringe at the thought of finishing certain things, I crave,desire, cry, eat, watch, standby,listen, and pray.   I act out.  I want nothing more than to go backwards....to shrink.   This is normal, as far as I am concerened.   What is the purpose, the message I am to carry forward, that I have not come to fully understand?   I feel an urgency in my heart....Sure I can let my heart out.....But let something into it?  Instant fear takes hold.   If Abraham Lincoln was afraid, couldnt express his love for Country, what might have been?     What if he was afraid to absorb the sights, the people, the Love that fueled his desire to lead.....Then what would be today?  

   There is a calling I have, but I cannot fully comprehend its message. For the most part I am to share my story.....Thats fine, I think I am fairly talented with words to do so.  I am such an action oriented person, and I see lots of ways people help others, and I have this paining annoyance that whatever I do, has to be so unique, so huge, so unbeleivably powerful, the world will stop and be in utter awe.

   This is clearly my blockage.  The lack of true humbleness still allows for a disease called EGO that blocks any if not all from entering my heart....

   My mind is plenty open, and mostly filled with soldiers of Judgement, a thought comes in, the Soldiers beat it to a pulp, and is cast aside. Analyzing, relating events to adversely allow for negative flow, much like a conducter of pre mentioned electricity.   How does one go from Direct Current to Alternate Current in such a short time?    Negativity for myself, is simply a safe "known" place. It a way of defending myself, so that I do not have to make choices, God Forbid, I make a mistake.....Its me closing door after door after door.    It is selfish.

   Back to my heart....It is a fortress protected by filth, shame, guilt, sense of fear, and a feeling of undeserved attention.   That from which I can effortlessly write, out is easy.  A coating so thick, so hardened by years of hearing the same old story....and soaking myself in these old ideas, because, its what I know.  

   This blog is an outward way of telling a New Story.   It may touch you in the heart, It comes from mine.     One example I can list that DOES touch me are as follows,   Nature,  for I love the outdoors, but I can shelter myself from it, at least for a while.....even though outside the Bee will continue to pollinate and make love to Flowers ever replenishing this planet....It makes me bawl.....Its a sight so breath taking, and HUGE.  A tiny BEE.  Meanwhile, I will sit.

    I am changing....I am becoming,more and more, everyday PART OF.

    Abraham Lincoln and BEES? WHAAAAAAAT?

Gay...Really?

   This will likely be the most unusual blog entry to date.


    I dont even know how to begin.

 There have been no other moments in my life so significant than the realization that I was queer.

    I had already by time I reached High School, been a womanizer. I had loved in a particularly immature way, several women.  However,  I was so infatuated with one because of her electric eyes and smile. I dont remember exactly how I met her, but the day I did, my heart beat so fast it practically burst with joy.  Im not at will to mention her name, for her privacy is not for me to give away.

    I tortured her with what I thought was Loving notes, condoms and small gifts, as often as I could.

Being 15? I was still prepubescent and scrawny, but my heart knew....Shed laugh alot at my efforts, my silly little acts of affection...  Her beautiful super thick golden hair was absolutely astonishing as much it still is today....Sometimes I offended her, for I didnt know her very well.

  She hung out with older,cooler and certainly more mature men, and they had a much more stunning chance to spend time with her than myself.They had cars,jobs,music,beer... My jealousy was through the roof, I pressed on, cooing, and begging, and pleading to be with me.

    It was to no avail.   But the best part of the day was to see her in school.   I accepted it eventually. Heartbroken and saddened.  It was for the best.  I believe it to this day.

   I write with tears, because, I regret at times my actions, my loose desires and selfishness about who I am now. If she had fallen in love with me, might I had ruined her life, our lives with my abuse of alcohol? Had we had any children, would they too be a disaster? Would I have left her for selfish and thoughtless behaviors which have so wreaked havoc in my own life?  Would I have discovered I was queer during our life together to be only half the man she knew?  Hiding and pretending?

   I was convinced I could love her to the fullest...And I was ready....Then Queer came along.

    By the time a year ,maybe a little more had passed my life had changed so vastly, and I was now living in a Boys home in Westport for young men from broken homes and the like. I was a ward of the state, but thats a whole nother entry which I will get to....

    I figured out that I was beginning to appreciate mens anatomy visually far more than womens, and it hadnt dawned on me for the longest time.....Until it did. It shattered everything I knew in my mind, body and spirit. It was very gradual.   How can my heart beat for one sex and feel so physical for the other?   I just couldnt connect it.

    I had a secret so big, I had to get it out.....who could I tell in confidence?   It was life changing and I shared this painful understanding with a woman, named Claire Monks, whom was a live in house support, in the boys home. For more than an hour I was in her room crying so much, but I couldnt let it out......Eventually I did......And I never saw her again....A few days after this conversation, she was packed up and gone, I never knew why.....Im sure it wasnt because of my revelation or anything, but she was the very first person to know......

    David Singer, House owner and program guy, had found out what I shared and sent me on a train to NYC to meet some older gay guy, to discuss what He thought was a dilemma, maybe confusion. I dont remember the visit, nor do I care to muse why anyone would think there was any confusion....


  At this time and space I was dating a gorgeous young Asian lady named Tammy. We were the same age and were in love for 8 months.  She had long straight black hair down to her waist, I used to love running my fingers through it, it always fell perfectly back into line. Much like a shampoo commercial.     I had met her parents, snuck cigarettes in her yard....8 months was a lifetime back then.  I had my first gay sex in Westport in the woods with a man 10 years my senior....It was perfect.


   It was my first infidelity, and certainly not my last. I had to tell the truth, and she cried, I cried, I had ruined a perfectly beautiful heart.   I was never again to date a woman.    I was so crazy about this man who had under winged me as a sex partner, I thought for sure he was in love with me as I was with him, for it had felt more complete than any other I had known before.  Two weeks later he was finished with me. I was so naive.   He was married. I left notes in his mailbox....I didnt know.  I never saw him again.

    As I spent most of the Summer fooling around, honing my cruising skills, I discovered I could easily get attention...Being youthful, thin, endowed, and practically untouched, virginal.  I in time, made my way to the old gay bar in Westport called the Brook Cafe. Oh they let me right in, underage and all.   Much to my naivete.   The owners at the time were drug heads, cocaine and the like, and they were so happy to have a young man there that could keep older men at the bar drinking...They introduced me to porn video makers and other so called talented gay types.   I was going to be a star! Drag queens and porn and coke, real cool.

    I was introduced to one producer for the Latino Video Fan Club in NY, which Im sure if I had actually followed through would have left me with an anus as big as the subway tunnel....OH GOD. I had seriously thought the process through, for at that time, I was a dishwasher and had the idea that if I had actually become a man of a powerful position ie(Political, haha) that would shred any dignity and hope thereof.

    So in light of the fact that I was of demand, I decided in a few months afterwards, I would leave the Boys home and set out on my own.   By time I was 17 I had my own 2 room apartment in Milford, on the beach.....   I was so cool, I bought pot by the ounces and my neighbor was a woman named Sherry who, was a stripper in Bridgeport. She had the largest set of boobs I had ever seen and wasn't afraid of sharing them with me. She introduced herself with a bottle of Brandy and boobs, it was a friendship developed.   From that friendship, I could relate to her sexually, She was outgoing about it, and so was I....We had 3 sums with her and her boyfriend all crazy on tabs of acid. 

  That was when with her "professional" advice and encouragement, I became a male escort.   I worked for a white Irish, pimp....And for the next 2 years until I was 19, I had sold my soul, my body, to men that didnt think much of themselves. I met some very powerful men, some suicidal men, some sick individuals, whom I wonder about to this day.  My friendship with Sherry had taken off, she introduced me to crack cocaine, and I was off to the races.  The first rock didnt do anything.  The second however blasted me so far into outer space I thought Id never return.  I smoked diligantly for the 2 years I escorted.  I could bounce back easily, being young and relatively untarnished from a 24 hour stint, of which there were many.  I made alot of money.  I smoked and drank all of it.

   As the Summer dwindled, business didnt, but I hadnt paid my rent.   I hired a sick crackhead driver to get me to appointments, and in trade I gave him rocks....

    I left my first apartment, painted neon green, and with a blue commercial carpet I had installed, the landlord was furious and my neighbors all around had figured out I was queer and made it clear they didnt approve.  It was first of many running away from my problems, I would continue for years to come.
    I moved in with my pimp.  I thought how nice of him to care for me.   Keeping the Golden Egg close by was his real motive.   Subjected to paying rent and sexual favors..I lived there for a short time, copping for crack in what was then known as the Evergreens in Bridgeport. I experienced some frightening and life threatening situations, that at that time, I didnt much take to heart, for I wanted to get high.....

    So in a few very short years I had discovered that being Queer, was door opening experience. A sick door.    A knob easily turned, one hard to get back out of once across the threshold.


  I mistook Love, and Loving as a tangible thing.  An object, of being objectified.

    The future would lead differently, thankfully....    I will continue this at another time. Alot has been revealed.

Ritalin Boy.......

                                                                 

  
   As far back as I can remember, I was told there was alot wrong with me.   I was naturally a hyper active boy, and by time I reached the age of 6 my parents had apparently had enough. 

    My pediatric Doctor named Sedat Shaban, was the first to summons the wrong chart and began furiously writing about how thin I was, how wild I was and how I wasnt growing fast enough. I couldnt sit still.   At once without any hesitation or question from Mom & Dad, Psychological testing was in order.   In the early 80's this was a hit...

     I struggled with school right from the get go. First in Kindergarten for a short few months, then to Pre School, then to Kindergarten again, my pattern was set. One step forward, two steps back, life for me was in motion, which way however, was really never known........

     I spent the better part of my childhood in various Psychologists offices in and around Waterbury, some of these people who claimed to be professionals were more likely nothing more than pill pushing Robots.   I can remember fondly the Rorschach tests, ink blots for those who are not familiar....I was always convinced they were broken pens leaking, but that wasnt the answer the Docs wanted to hear.

   I was imaginative as a youngin, fantasizing constantly, and creating mayhem at school, and coming home to regular mayhem there. My parents, both drunks, were both very hard workers, My father being a machinist at Century Brass, and my Mother being a retail sales lady at Reeds department store....After work, My mother would come home and cook, and do errands....My Father on the other hand was usually belly up at Kellys Oak Tree Inn, and/or at some strange fat womans house bangin her. After a long days work, what good was a wife anyway?  

     I spent a fair amount of time outside...exploring, digging holes and making a mess of the yard, it was already littered with trailer trash anyway.  A childs dreamland if you ask me....  

    There was regular and persistent chaos in my home, a decrepit house to begin with, a mortgage usually underpaid, and alcohol, blood, violence, state Police, beatings, arrests, and the like.   Intermingled in all of this, my Father every once in a while took me fishing, and Ice Fishing,rock hunting, deer hunting.  I hated the thunder come traveling along the ice with a huge crack!    My Father loved me, I could tell.I was his boy, for I had 3 sisters by then. It didnt last very long as his own life problems and alcoholism developed in him as strong as bull. We dint go do much together after I was 10 or so... 

    As both my Parents began living a more drunkard lifestyle, my behavior in the household was getting worse and worse, so distracted......My Mother really began to resent the fact I was born.  And soon, after some of the testing I mentioned was complete, Ritalin was prescribed along with severe counseling and testing, constant blood draws, questions by the hundreds, pictures drawn and interpreted,  filed and it was fact...There was something wrong with me. 

    So for the next 9 years it was business as usual, regular emergency room visits because I had a severe bleeding problem as a child, and some beatings from my Mother that were always glossed over as me being clumsy.....I'll never forget the time she beat my skull so deeply with a shoe, I had to get stitches, but of course really what happened was I fell down the stairs....rriiiiggghhhttt......Having to report to the nurses office at school for my lunchtime dose....It was their one day a nurse had asked me about a bruise....And I told her the truth, begging for her not to tell anyone.....She did, she called the cops.   Not a good idea.   I went home and believe me, I never told again.

    I will never know if Ritalin had done any good, I failed miserably in all my schooling for years to come.   I stayed back in 10th grade, never took SATs and managed to get through High School.  I began as a teenager to have regular visits and stays at institutions like Waterbury Hospital, where my Mother had taken me after I had run away from her......She had said it a million times before" Im gonna kill you when I get home from work" And this time I believed it, and instinct kicked in....to get the hell out.   I was 15 by then. Still on Ritalin.      9 years had passed since I ate that first tablet.   After I had escaped my Mother I never ate one again, and I, over time began to find my way....

    Its hard for me to describe what Ritalins effect was, I was so young when I started it, we had already tried a sugar free diet, controlled behavior modification. Why no one ever saw the obvious is beyond me...But then again it was the 80's when child abuse was still taboo, too touchy a subject to speak about. Confronting a parent back then was like blackballing yourself.

    Alcohol has caused such damage in my story, right from the get go....It causes false realities, and it clings....   Soon others believe in an Alcoholics delusion, that their son was a terror......Doctors and other so called professionals weren't too keen on seeing past a story an Alcoholic could tell....

    To this day, I do not trust Doctors. I have a Doctor.   He is good to me, however when I visit him, I mostly control everything, and that can be harmful......I am always sure Im dying....Hes not. 

    I am so glad I live in a world, a time of better understanding, and reality.   I do not have children, Im not likely to. But my hunch is that if I did, Id be a pretty good Father.   

   



  

   

Haircut.......Just for ME.........

    I have been walking around with a hideous hair pile on my skull, PLUS Giant Eyebrows!  When was anyone gonna tell me......?    Well, I looked in the mirror this morning and I was just DISGUSTED.

    Huge Nose hairs ABOUND! Eyebrows I could barely see through, and eecckkkkk, that hair! Unshapely, oldish, flat, dull, dry looking, as if hay.     I can likely take my Nose Hairs and make one of those rats nests called dreads?   They call it DREADS cuz its DREADFUL looking!   ANYWAY........Here LOOK!....

   God! WHY?!   Thats NAAASTY.........Filthy air hole......GAY_ROSS!


     Naturally I was very concerned...... SO I searched and searched for a Barber, Not a Stylist, but a Barber.   Just cut my hairs, dont make me look all pretty and shit.  I dont want a "Style" cuz I have no one to impress......Its Hair for Christs sake!

     The Barber I found came as a suggestion... and I went!    He was old fashioned Italian, with magical haircutting fingers attached to his hand. SNIPPA! SNIPPA!     He kept the chair turned away from the mirror as he clipped cut, and shaved, and eventually twirling the chair in a hurry, I was eager to see.........The Haircut....Just For ME.......But he said" We're not done yet!"   I said, "God! Sorry!"    I sat back and relaxed and thats when he pulled a straight RAZOR!   My Favorite device of the hair cutters toolbox.........Its all in the risk, would I jump scarily resulting in a lash across the cheek? Maybe lose an ear?    NAHHHHH...Nothing like that happened not even one teeny drop of BLOOD......BORING!

   Thats what Im talkin about!   

   I like my new haircut.......Just look how goofy its made ME!  YAY!