Monday, March 17, 2008
￼ peeling away the layers while peeing on myself, standing up in an old skool NYC....
phone booth. it was one of those nights that drift back into your consciousness almost before they even begin. I’m fuct up- pissed on myself blacked out and carrying a scrip bottle full of percs and dangerous ammounts of cold hard cash in my pocket. Plus, i’m in the east village which offers way too many possibilities for my JW Black adeled brain to actually comprehend- so i stumble down to my old standby, The Troll Room, i mean the Boiler Room, all the while finishing pulling up my pants AND running back to the phone booth to see if i left any change in the phone even though i never made a call. Then again who knows- when i’m like that theres no end to the crazy fuct up shit i’m capable & more than willing to try. Anywayz I get to the boiler room in one piece, well relatively. i seemed to have lost one of my shoes and gotten the words "$7.95 Dinner Special every Friday @ TGIF" stuck on replay in my mind and regerjutating like verbal diareah from my mouth....I sit at my corner seat all the way in the darkened back and perform the drunken ritual of trying to look perfect as you attempt to take off your jacket as seamlessly as possible and sit your ass down on the barstool without it falling from under your inebriated ass. Nodding to some fellow trolls, lovers us all of the nitelife decadence, i manage to rip one of the arms at the seam of my left shoulder as i waved hello to a particulary nasty, stenchy, not very nice wanna be trannie, then i flip back on the stool and wind up on my ass, of which i have just ripped the crotch seam. As i stand up I discover that I resemble an extra from a Japanese designer fashion show done for mass market tastes in a 7th Avenue nightmare come to life. Oh yeah, and I have once again peed myself. I am so not pretty. I give messy an extra couple of YYYYs. Thats basically all i can remember cause i woke up the next morning in a box on the lawn of Thomkins Park doing my best Basquiat impression while realizing i was clad only in my pants, still ripped even more obscenely at the crotch and that my shirt had transfomed from a t-shirt to a pink feathered and aquamarine sequined tunic of bad 80’s old lady gambling in Atlantic City proportions. Oh, yeah, somehow during my adventure i had adopted a cat on a leash with a tag on it’s collar that read Vanitee, no y, 2 e’s. I stumbled from my box and walked majestically across the park, my eyes stinging from the summer sun, my one bare foot now also sockless and covered in strangely strategically placed Hello Kitty bandaids, led on a slow march out of hail by new pussy Vanitee who was literally pulling me with the force of a super beast. All i needed was a cigarette holder and turtlenecked turban and i could be the 3rd Beale sister residing in my own personal hell of Greyed Gardens.
4:35 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
￼ Splinters of denial picked slowly out of my already thin skin, pricking up...
bits of bloody disillusionment and ungrateful surprise. Examining the sliver like shards that i try to rebury in myself slowly, not wanting to know if they wield an answer or just another plethora of questions that in my heart i know i can answer myself. Trailing the splinters slowly across my skin, it tingles, burns, goose-bumps appear and i close my eyes thinking of everything that needs to be addressed and then trying to immediately forget it all. Months spent in a bubble, days locked in forced purpose, seconds caught in an ever tangling web of counterfeit astonishment. And I know in my head that i do this all to myself, so i force myself to slowly release and search out the last few, deepest splinters- the ones of confusion, miscontent, loneliness, fear and worst of all lack of self esteem. I slide each one between my fingers, finally flicking them to the wind, out of my life and away from my future, until all i can feel is the slightest of my breath rising like extra slow motion lava up my throat and filling my mouth with a taste that is at once gorgeous yet repellent. the taste of promise, uncertain, but filled with hope and the dreams that bring it to fruition. And I close my eyes and fade away into one of those dreams, a slight smile taking over my face, strangely soiled, somewhat serene.
1:16 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Sunday, March 16, 2008
￼ Im Really, really, no, seriously really OVER the Bronx.
None of my friends come up or even offers to visit me and i can’t say i don’t blame them.It’s at least 45 minutees by train and then a 10 block walk home- not too bad, but my life in NYC is downtown. Always has been, always will be. They call me "white boy" in my building and at first i thought it was cute. Now it just makes me feel more alone. That’s why I’m leaving on april 5th. Who knows what i can expect but i know in my heart i’m happiest out west and i desprately need to be happy again, living someplace where i’m not isolated, surrounded by open minded and correct thinking folks who give a shit about something other than Prada (although that new collction WAS THE SHIT!) I’m gonna fo for a few weeks and shoot in San Frandisco and then head up to portland and see if it is a good fit for me. There is nothing happeng for me in NYC anymore- except for one, beautiful and very beloved boy-man Blue who i have gone trhrough so much in such a short period that when we are seperated i have a heaviness in my heart that sometimes takes a bit too long to get over. I’m reading at rapture on wednesday nite and seeing Blue for the firts time in over a week. i have no idea what to expect but isn’t that part of the excitement, the thrill, the instant spontanaiety of loving someone like him- unpredictable, strangely reliable, a prancing tiger ready to pounce, working fierce Ferragamo boots in the process. He will always be a part of me. ALWAYS, but we are coming to a fork in the road and each one might not walk down the same path. facing forward front with a stiff back i prepare myself for an uncertaing future and hope for the best and most loving solution to my dillema. Fiercely over & correctly Out.
5:14 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
￼ Slicing thru the sweetness of a day full of posibilities, endless...
hope has returned after 4 days of me trying to squash it. Respite has come in verbal form badly hurting from seperation and distance. my mind is splitting into two camps- one that is following it’s heart and the other the mind- my insane mind, full of racing thoughts and the ability to attack with a verbal venom spew sure to snuff even the bitchiest queen to the curb. Food goes down without pain as i strengthen my body and start to heal, slowly letting the cuts of miscommunication to slowly and delicately dry up from my mind. Purpose- renewed and reinspired, leading me consider possibilities never considered before. i flirt with chance like a broken in whore, knowing it all go so many different ways, some with outcomes full of joy, but others screeching in dispair. I savor the sweet taste of personal victory, rising not only from the ashes but not losing my ability to dream, or hunger for more knowledge or conquer the personal demons that at times threaten to eat me alive, as I just stand there, usually sporting a shit eatting grin and air of "what the fucking ever".
4:12 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove