Wasteland - New Orleans, LA

Changes

2006-06-28T14:29:00.000-05:00

Mood: Up Beat
Music: The sounds of a rattling Air Conditioner window unit by Whirlpool

Well folks, it's been a while since my last blog post, and allot has happened. I got laid off from my job, the same day I came down with some strange sickness. The doctors STILL haven't figured out what the hell it is/was. The symptoms had me in bed for two weeks, during which I lost 22 pounds. The doctors theories ranged from meningitis to the initial stages of HIV. Luckily for me every test they threw blood samples at came back negative.

It took almost three full weeks before I'd recovered enough to actually start actively seeking a job, and by that time I'd burned through almost all my savings paying bills and buying medications. At one point I was taking 4 pills every 4 hours, I was beginning to suspect that I'd start rattling when I walked at the rate I was eating pills.

I went this morning for a drug screening, as I'm going to start work for Albertsons (grocery chain) on Friday, YAY, it feels good to be back amongst the employed. My only concern is the job is a part time position, and pays 2.75 an hour less than my full time position I previously had. I may be required to get a second job in order to make ends meet.

Anyway enough about my worries, I'm still alive, and have all limbs intact and functional so I WILL make it.

On a different subject, I've been abducted and forced into the myspace cult. Thanks to a friend of mine named hope. You can find my myspace page at http://www.myspace.com/crazykooshball If you are also a myspace addict, feel free to say HI! After all, insanity loves company.

When your strange....

2006-05-07T15:42:00.000-05:00

You Are 40% Weird

Normal enough to know that you're weird...
But too damn weird to do anything about it!

How Weird Are You?

Get your freak flag today!

2006-05-07T15:20:00.000-05:00

Your Personality Profile

You are dependable, popular, and observant.
Deep and thoughtful, you are prone to moodiness.
In fact, your emotions tend to influence everything you do.

You are unique, creative, and expressive.
You don't mind waving your freak flag every once and a while.
And lucky for you, most people find your weird ways charming!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

I've always loved the rain.

2006-05-07T15:16:00.000-05:00

You Are Rain

You can be warm and sexy. Or cold and unwelcoming.
Either way, you slowly bring out the beauty around you.

You are best known for: your touch

Your dominant state: changing

What Type of Weather Are You?

Doh, Tell me something I didn't already know

2006-05-07T15:11:00.000-05:00

You Are 40% Abnormal

You are at medium risk for being a psychopath. It is somewhat likely that you have no soul.

You are at high risk for having a borderline personality. It is very likely that you are a chaotic mess.

You are at low risk for having a narcissistic personality. It is unlikely that you are in love with your own reflection.

You are at high risk for having a social phobia. It is very likely that you feel most comfortable in your mom's basement.

You are at low risk for obsessive compulsive disorder. It is unlikely that you are addicted to hand sanitizer.

How Abnormal Are You?

I'm BAAAAAAAACK!

2006-05-07T13:50:00.000-05:00

Mood: Neutral
Music: The sounds of rain by Mother Nature

It's been months since I've posted, hell it's been months since I've even written in a journal, much less blogged. A lot has happened in my life, some of it for the good, some of it for the bad.

I am living on my own now, in Baton Rouge, LA. Enough has occurred in my life to make me realize that I'm better off alone, at least living wise, than with room mates, they always seem to complicate things unnecessarily.

I've loved and lost as well, during my departure from blogging, I've fallen for a man, had a passionate three month affair, and been summarily dismissed with a 'were better off as friends'. It left me feeling a bit scorched around the edges, to say the least.

My sex life has once again picked up, and I'm in super-slut mode. (Oh please, like you didn't already know I was a slut) anyway, I've come to the conclusion that it's not doing me any good just whoring around the way I have been. sure, it feels good, but I want more out of life than just a warm hole to plug myself into.

I think James might have had a point with the volunteering crap, it gets me out, into the world where I can actually meet people, people who have common interests.

Anyway, that's enough of this crap for now.. When I have more on my mind, Ill put it up here.

I'm being a slut... shhh it's a secret!

2005-06-03T19:35:00.000-05:00

Mood: Neutral

Music: In my head by Twelve Stones

I’m at home right now, its 7:08pm as I write this. Went to the gym this morning, had a good workout, much better than last time. I didn’t almost kill myself this time. I was smart and had something to eat an hour before hitting the gym, and I monitored my heart rate more closely, keeping it in the high fat-burn, low cardio range.

When I got up this morning, the DSL was off line. Seems there was some sort of screw up, according to Sooz, with the payment, and they cut it off before the payment was due. After hours of jumping through hoops, and going out and making a payment, it was back on when I got home from the gym.

James called me about 1 this afternoon, he said he’d tried to send me an e-mail this morning, and that it bounced back as undeliverable. So I had to try and explain that whole situation to him, and put him through the trouble of re-writing the e-mail since his web based e-mail account from his ISP doesn’t save sent e-mails.

I’ve been a total slut lately; I’ve gone out with the express purpose of getting laid the last three days in a row. I’m almost constantly keeping my webcam online as well, although one thing I refuse to do is do ‘shows’ for people. I guess I’m getting depressed, because I’m moody, and I want to feel attractive, so I’m doing sleazy shit in order to attract attention to myself. Guess its all part of that manic-depression shit, every time I get depressed, I become a total slut, or I hide out in my room for days on end, only leaving it to eat, shower, and work. I really should go and check into a shrink, see about getting put on some medicine to get this under control.

I don’t know why I do it to myself, every time I go out and hook up with a stranger like this I only wind up feeling more miserable about myself than when I started. I know what I’m doing, I’m trying to satisfy an emotional craving, with a physical sensation, and it only makes things worse. It’s a vicious cycle, one that I don’t see an escape from unless I can find someone who can satisfy me emotionally as well as physically.

And there’s only one way to do that, find a long term partner, someone who I can care about, and who cares about me. Because that’s what this is all about, trying to fill an emotional void with quick, meaningless sex, and it never works, no matter how hard anyone tries.

I think I’ll lay down and take a nap after I post this entry, getting up early every morning, while giving me nice long day, sucks when it comes to dealing with my room mates because I have to ferry them back and forth to work, and run errands for them. So I wind up staying awake, sometimes past midnight every night, only to wake up at 9am and do it all over again. And tomorrow, and the day after I’ll be getting up at 6am, so sleep is a must.

Stiff and Sore

2005-06-03T18:53:00.000-05:00

Wednesday, June 1st 4:50pm

I woke up at 10 O’clock AM this morning then headed out for the gym. I needed a lock, and a few other items, so I stopped off at K-mart to get what I needed.

The place was busy by the time I got there at 11, but not so busy that you couldn’t us a machine that you wanted.

I thought I had dumbed down my old gym routines sufficiently for me to restart with. But I was woefully wrong, my body wasn’t prepared for a workout of that intensity and length. As a result, I went into carotesis, the process where the body begins burning muscle instead of fat, this usually happens if you haven’t eaten properly, then hit a routine which is so intense that your body rapidly burns through all fuel in your blood, then it “Freaks” at the rate in which everything was burnt away, so it starts attacking muscle, as muscle is more easily metabolized than fat.

Normally under a lower intensity workout, My body would have turned to fat for it’s source of fuel, but I’d made two critical mistakes when planning my workout.

I overestimated my fitness level, and I didn’t eat anything before I went to the gym. I didn’t take into account that my metabolism had slowed down when I’d adjusted the weight and rep levels for a re-start workout, and I also didn’t take into account the intensity of the cardio routine, sure I lowered the duration, but I neglected to pay attention to my heart rate while I was actually doing it.

Needless to say, I got a very good workout, but I am also more wasted than I had anticipated being. All in all, I think I may live. But one thing is for sure, I’m going to be stiff and sore tomorrow.

The messages between James and I are growing in length and personal detail. He’s begun talking about dating others, and his search for “Mr. Right” the whole time I’m reading, and replying to these e-mails, I’m biting my tongue, and resisting the temptation to stand up, wave my arms and yell, “HELLO! I’M -RIGHT HERE-!”

But I know, he wants a friend, and I -need- a friend. So I’m going to have to keep slapping back those childish and immature impulses, because I know that if I were to bring up the subject of dating him, it would ruin the friendship we’ve formed.

He’s fished around the subject of seeing one another again. I’d like to see him, but I want to do it outside of a bar setting. Just so we can talk without being overheard and I’d rather deal with him one on one than have to duck and dodge rumor whores.

He brought up the subject again in his last email, this time directly. I told him to name a place, time, and activity, as I was up for almost anything.

I’ll have to let him know that I’m working Saturday morning. I just wish our schedules allowed us more time to get together. Maybe if he’s not already got plans we can meet up after I get off work Saturday.

Look ma! I'm a gymbunny... er not quite but...

2005-06-03T18:43:00.000-05:00

Tuesday, May 31st 3:50pm

I’m at work once again. I got a call at 11am this morning from peter letting me know that I a may be called in to work at three. He called me at two telling me that I was in fact needed at three. This makes the second day in a rwo that I was called in at least two hours early.

If you hadn’t guessed yet, I hate when routines get broken up. My routines are what I build my life around, and without a stable routine, I feel lost and adrift. I really wish I had a more stable job, and home life.

I went to get my drivers license switched over to Louisiana. Do you believe they want a passport in order to switch a drivers license from one state to the next? Needless to say I’m still using my Michigan license.

On my way home from the fruitless attempt at becoming a legal citizen of the state of Louisiana, I stopped off at the French Rivera spa, I had only wanted to check it out and see how much it would cost to join….

Somehow, I’m not sure how, or when it happened, but I found myself the proud, if not confused, new owner of a VIP membership card. All I can say is, damn that salesman is good.

All things considered, $35 a month is not bad. I waste at least that much a week on junk, I think if I restrict my spending a bit more, I’ll have that $35 a month easily.

Tomorrow morning I’m going to start at the gym. I’ll pack my gym bag tonight and review my old workout log book. It’s been quite some time since I’ve been to the gym so I’m sure I’ll have to dumb the routines down to a level in which I’m able to perform them until I’ve built myself back up enough to return to the old routines.

Two years, I can’t believe I committed to that kind of contract, oh well; at least I won’t be lacking for a gym any more, especially with the fact that after two years, if I renew it, the membership will be lifetime.

There is a clause in the contract though, which bugs me a little bit. It is a location clause, stating that if I move more than 35 miles away they will cancel the contract. So if I move, it will have to be somewhere within a 35 mile radius of the gym or I will have to pay off the remaining dues on the contract and loose my member privileges.

It’s a firestorm of ign’ance up in this place.

2005-06-03T18:41:00.000-05:00

Monday May 30th 3:55pm

I’m back at work again, Peter my boss called me at 1 o’clock saying he wanted me to come in at 3pm instead of 5pm.

God, I love my job, -not- I think this is the only job I’ve had where I feel like I’m on call constantly. I wouldn’t be as upset by being called in unexpectedly if I were compensated in some way for the inconvenience, however I simply get paid the same rate as my usually scheduled hours.

It’s packed up in here, and as a result, the collective intelligence level of the customers has dropped exponentially. I’m getting more and more complaints about machines that aren’t operating. But all I have to do is walk over and close, or lock the door on the machine in question and it starts right up. Some of the people up in here look like they are strung out, they are running around in almost a frenzied state shoving coins and clothing into machines as if getting out of here five minutes quicker will save their lives.

I don’t understand people these days, always running around, always in a rush. When I was in Michigan, we called people like this “Citiots” (The compound form of city idiot) simply because they are idiots. Live isn’t worth living if you have to kill yourself just trying to live it.

People need to slow down, take a look around them, and re-think their priorities.

James and I continue to exchange e-mails on pretty much a daily basis. The more we communicate with one another, the more his restraint on his personality slips and he becomes more expressive.

He was depressed Saturday night, down in the dumps about his life. I don’t know enough about his past yet for me to target specifics, so I just spoke honestly about him in general, highlighting the best points of him in my view of things.

When he replied to the message, he told me he was going to save it and read it when ever he was feeling down. It made me feel good to know just a simple few lines of text could mean so much to him.

Our friendship seems to be deepening, and I’m learning more and more about him with each new e-mail that arrives.

The scariest part about it all is I don’t see any serious draw backs to him except the fact he’s so busy. I don’t hold that against him though, simply because it’s who he is, and what he enjoys.

I however, can see how it could interfere with a relationship, especially if the relationship became strained and he turned to work instead of trying to salvage the relationship.

If things between us progress further, towards dating with serious intent, I’ll have to ask him about his prior relationships and how they related to his work. I do however suspect that if I take a close look at his volunteer work load, in the time periods in which his relationships were in trouble, I’ll find that he retreats into a heaver work load in order to escape a bad situation at home.

I may be wrong, but I believe that if James were happier in his personal life, he would not spend as much time as he does with all his volunteer work.

We are closing your accout sir, your reality check just bounced.

2005-06-03T18:25:00.000-05:00

Date: Sunday May 29th

I’m sitting here at work, half asleep, and I really don’t care. Apathy anyone? I’ve got plenty to spare.

One of the regulars pulled up into the parking lot and was waiting for me to open this place. So I intentionally drug my heels. But still had the doors open five minutes early. Sometimes I hate being me.

It’s memorial day weekend, so of course the news is full of stories about dead soldiers. Oh fucking well. Death is the price you risk paying for picking up a gun, traipsing off to some godforsaken part of the world, and shooting at the natives. Of course, they are going to shoot back, it’s called self defense, look it up morons. In my opinion, there is nothing heroic about turning humans into hamburger with automatic weapons.

Oh, if you haven’t guessed, I don’t support the war. I think it’s nothing more than a political scam with no more purpose than teats on a boar. It’s simply George Junior’s way of trying to do what daddy couldn’t, only to discover that he, himself is also woefully lacking where it counts, Brains!

Yes, I’ll admit I’m being harsh. But someone has to, as the rest of the nation seems content with being ladled out one heaping spoonful of bullshit after another.

People are constantly telling me I’m good looking and sweet. But when I look in the mirror I see what’s under the surface, and it’s ugly. I don’t like what I see in myself. Can anyone say false advertisement?

I know I’m far from one of the “Beautiful People” who dominate the idiot box and the big screens of theaters. But I’m sure if I put for the effort, I could be a close second. However, it would only make me that much more of a poser.

I guess I have something that the majority of gay society seems to be lacking, depth. Too bad, really that it looks like an oasis, when it’s really a tar pit. But hey, at least I’m not shallow.

I put a smile on my face, shave, comb my hair, put on clean clothes and walk amongst the rest of the world. But I feel no real kinship with anyone. Don’t take this to mean I don’t care about my friends, because I do, I just don’t care about people in general.

One woman came in about a week ago and asked me, “How do you do it? You’re always polite, smiling, and seem to be so happy!” I told her I just look at life as one big joke, of which, we are all the butt of. I lied. And that’s the secret to my happy exterior, it’s a lie, one big, dark haired, hazel eyed, good looking - lie -.

If anyone were to ask me if I lie, I’d probably say I try not to. But that also would be a lie. So why do I do it? Because if I were to show my true colors all the time I’d be even lonelier than I already am.

Sooz comments when I’m being moody and grumpy, she calls me “Grumpy butt” which translates to “Moody Asshole” in my mind, little does she know, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg breaking the surface.

Sometimes I just get tired of smiling, and playing nice. Being the “Good Guy” and looking all cute and cuddly. That is when the smile fades, the eyes narrow, and my sarcasm bites like a chainsaw.

Sometimes I think I need to see a shrink, other times I know I do. I hurt the people I care about, and have difficulty showing affection towards them.

I know I have issues, probably an entire fleet of 747’s worth, but what bugs me the most is the apathy and the rage I feel when ever I get into a situation where I’m arguing with someone.

My heart races, my muscles tense and there’s this sense of “Prickly static” that washes over me. I loose all sense of anyone and anything outside my direct line of sight, it also takes me almost fifteen minutes to unwind after a simple, but heated exchange of words with someone.

I don’t like how I feel when this happens, and I can tell, something about the way I look scares the hell out of people when I’m like that.

I’ve only hit someone in anger once in my life. And that was when I was 16, the day I came out to my family. I went off on my sister after she’d said some particularly hateful things about gays. Ok, Ok, I didn’t go off on her, I exploded. She’s terrified of me when I’m angry to this day, 16 years later.

I don’t remember what all I did to her, except a few minor snippits of memory, beating her head against the floor, kicking her, and calling her everything but a white Christian woman. Next thing I remember is sitting on my bedroom floor between my dresser and my bead, thumping the side of my head repeatedly against the side of the dresser.

I was crying and couldn’t stop, there was blood on my hands, but I couldn’t remember how it got there. I begged my mom to take me to the hospital, but she wouldn’t. Two days later, I was walking through the living room and saw a bottle of my mom’s xanax sitting on the coffee table.

My mother and grand mother were talking in the kitchen. So, as if it were the most natural thing to do. I picked up the bottle, popped the cap, and proceeded to swallow half the pills in the bottle, one by one, before my grandmother caught me. Either she didn’t realize how many I’d taken, or she didn’t care, because she simply gave me a scornful look, took the bottle away from me then turned around and walked away.

I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for a friend. We were chatting when the pills began to kick in. I don’t remember what happened next except Anthony was standing beside my bed, then I remember the emergency room as they tried to pump my stomach, then I woke up strapped to a bed in the hospital.

People talk about fear, self loathing and pity when they talk about suicide. I felt none of that, all I felt was numbness as I picked up that bottle, and began deliberately swallowing pill after pill. I wasn’t scared, I didn’t hate myself, I was fully aware of what I was doing, and what the results would most likely be, I was just numb, empty, and was sick of it all.

I guess numbness isn’t the proper word, I remember that same, “Prickly static” in the back of my mind, it wasn’t as intense as when I get angry, but it was there, lurking, dampening all my feelings.

That feeling didn’t come back until I was well into my twenties, and it hit me like a tidal wave during an argument. Now, the prickly static lies just below the surface, and when ever I’m angry, it’s volume is cranked up to a deafening roar.

It’s not a real sound, like static from a TV or radio, it’s more a sensation than anything. The prickly feel isn’t a real feeling either. It’s just hard to describe. The best way I can think of to describe it is this. Imagine a television tuned to an empty channel. Now, crank up the volume on the sound,, take the static on the screen and “Wrap” it around your thoughts, so anything beyond what’s currently going on in your mind is masked behind that static. Now, take the roaring hiss from the sound of the static, change it from low and hollow to a flat, higher frequency buzzing hum and that’s the “Prickly static” I experience.

Some people say they see red when they are angry, I hear and feel static. I guess I’m just nuts….

Freddie from the Four Seasons was just in to drop his cloths off. Cute guy, don’t know him that well but know he does some sort of tours. He didn’t recognize me right off the bat, took him a moment but he finally put two and two together. I think he was a bit embarrassed at first when he realized who I was. But I put him at ease by being casual but professional, making a bit of small talk as I did the paper work for his laundry. I told him I’d have his cloths done in a couple of hours. All I can say is I no longer wonder weather he wears boxers or briefs. ;-)

I haven’t seen James all this week; however, we have been talking via e-mail almost daily, sometimes we exchange messages several times a day. I would prefer to hear his voice, and see him sitting across a table or next to me at a bar, but I’ll take what he’s willing to give. Daily contact, if even via e-mail is better than talking for a handful of minutes once a week.

I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I’ve noticed something since I’ve moved to New Orleans. I hate to be touched by females. Anything even remotely intimate, like a hug or an arm around me, that I don’t initiate causes an extremely unsettling feeling of repulsion within me. And I, without thinking, withdraw from it.

I know it’s irrational, but it makes me feel unclean. It doesn’t send me running for the shower mind you, but it does make me recoil from the person doing it as if I’d been burned. Sooz seems to delight in pushing me about this, and it only makes me like it even less. And some times I just want to scream at her, I’ve even had to bite my tongue in order to repress my desire to say some particularly vicious things that would only serve to hurt her. But she won’t leave it alone. And she does it intentionally in public; this only amplifies the intensity of my reaction. I -Really- wish she would take a hint and keep her hands off of me. It makes me feel violated and I don’t understand why.

Yes I’m gay, and I can function with females on a casual, social level, however, when I’m approached by one who makes physical contact beyond a casual touch I have a very strong, very negative reaction to it. It doesn’t matter what that person’s intentions are behind the gesture, if it’s initiated by them, the results are -always- the same, pure and utter revulsion.

Children and teens do not produce this reaction in me. It’s only produced by adult females and certain adult males. I have noticed however, that with the males that produce this reaction, the severity of it is far less intense, even if it’s done in a public setting. Besides getting that creeping “Get your hands off of me” feeling, I am able to tolerate it until they release me from the embrace.

I guess with straight guys, they have the same feelings, just the genders are reversed. Looking at it that way I can understand why some men have a violent reaction to unwanted physical advances by another guy. There have been times when the reaction has been so intense that I’ve almost hit the person. -Yeah- I guess I do need to have a talk with a shrink.

I was reluctant to write about a lot of things I’ve put into this post, simply because they are so personal to me. But also, because expressing them and laying them out so openly will probably hurt some people who read this. For that, I am sorry. It’s not my intention to hurt anyone who reads this, simply keep in mind that these are my rambling thoughts, frozen in time and given digital form for the world to read. They are not meant as a personal attack against anyone. I try to write this with an open mind, and with an open disregard for who may read it, simply because opinions are like assholes, everyone’s got one, and they usually stink. So if you don’t like mine, get your nose out of my ass crack ;-)

Business has picked up in here, there’s got to be at least twenty five people in here, and as expected, it’s noisy as hell. I don’t think it helps that our quad-load washer is loaded to the hilt, unbalanced and running in the extract cycle right now. The damn thing sounds like a freight train rolling through here at eighty miles per hours.

It’s almost straight up noon now, and it feels like I’ve been here for longer than six hours. I’ve already got all of the drop off’s done except for one, and it’s in the dryer now. It should be folded and ready for pickup in about half an hour.

Before I started this job, I used to lothe to do laundry, but now it’s not bad. I actually enjoy it and have more respect for my clothing, doing my best to take care of it so it always looks nice.

I’ve also started buying nicer looking clothing, instead of my older, drab and dull looking stuff. Now, if I can just get back on to my original diet, before I moved here, and drop more weight, I just -might- like what I see in the mirror.

Yes, yes, I know, yet another thing for me to talk to a shrink about.

But hey, I like myself more now than I ever have in the past. There are times when I look in the mirror and actually like the face looking back at me. Those are the times when I let myself see what the world sees when they look at me, the rest of the time I’m not so diluted.

Sooz is starting a plot on Mesick, the game server where we staff. Hopefully it will go well, the plot officially starts tomorrow. For some reason I can’t seem to really get into it. My interest in role play waxes in wanes without rhyme or reason. I enjoy it when I’m in the mood for it, but in all honesty I’d rather spend the time with real people than be sitting in front of a computer living life in a fantasy world.

I think I’m going to check out the French Rivera spa after work today. I’ve been toying with the idea of joining a gym for the last few weeks since I bought the weights and started lifting again. I -want- to get into shape. I like the way I look and feel when I am going to a gym, although with this job, I’m not sure if I will be able to afford it. I may have to look into finding a job which has a better pay rate.

It’s thundering outside, It rained earlier this morning and will probably pour down again soon. I think new Orleans is one of the only places I’ve ever been where it’s 80 degrees at six in the morning, and gets so hot by noon that you not only want to strip your cloths off but your skin as well. I’ve been told that the weather this year is mild compared to what it usually is, the heat and humidity surprisingly haven’t gotten too me as much as I had anticipated it would. Although arriving here in October, staying through out winter and spring has helped me acclimate to the weather here, I’m sure if I’d come here from Michigan in the heat of the summer I’d probably want to die.

I haven’t as yet seen the streets flood, although Sooz has woken me up with the announcement that the street outside the apartment was flooded, my desire for sleep overrode my curiosity at that point and my only reply was a grunt before I rolled over and went back to sleep. By the time I’d woken up, the drainage system had done it’s job and the streets were dry.

I have no doubt however, that I will, some day have to wade from the car to the door step. This is the price one pays for living below sea level.

Attack of the vicious queens!

2005-05-27T04:27:00.000-05:00

Mood: Pissed
Music: Stomp by Craving Theo

Walked out of the four seasons about two hours ago, pissed as hell. And the more I think about what I was told, the more pissed I get. I guess it’s a defensive mechanism, you can’t be -hurt- when you’re pissed. You can’t feel the pain of betrayal. Once again my trusting nature has left me open to someone’s vicious actions.

It seems some enterprising queer was eavesdropping on parts of James and My conversation last week, and overheard me mentioning looking up James on the web. While James was not upset by me doing a little digging into him, it seems this tightwad of a queen took it unto herself to spread it to everyone that I do background checks on everyone.

First of all, anyone with a lick of sense knows you require a full name, a birth date, and most likely a social security number for a full, in depth background check. And all I did with James is ran his name through Google, and did reverse searches on his phone numbers to find out where he lived. This is far from doing a background check on someone. I only accessed public records to find out what I was getting myself into. It’s not as if I hired a private detective to pry into his deepest and darkest secrets.

Hell, I -always- do a reverse search on someone’s phone number if there’s a possibility I’ll be alone with them, simply for the security of having a record of association with that person. If I were to disappear, I’d want someone knowing who was responsible. It’s the only -safe- thing to do. Call me paranoid, I don’t give a fuck. I’d rather leave a trail right to someone’s door if they were to kill me than have them get away with it only to do it again, to someone else.

But anyway, now people are giving me strange looks, and some people have quit speaking to me all together over this whole deal. Fuck them, vicious, gossip mongering bitches. I don’t need them and their bullshit.

I think I’m going to write James an e-mail, letting him know what’s happened, and that I’d prefer meeting up with him in some place that doesn’t feature gossiping queens in the future.

Dude, That's Harsh Man!

2005-05-26T09:14:00.000-05:00

Wednesday 5:25pm – I’ve made several attempts to write entries in this blog over the last few days but something always seems to come up and prevent me from completing the entry. I’ve taken to writing at work on a notepad, then transcripting it into the blog just so I can actually get some writing in.

I sent James an email last night with a listing of movies I have, He replied asking if I’d seen one called ‘Urbania” which I haven’t, I’ll look into it though, possibly get it if it sounds good.

He also asked if we could reschedule our date on Thursday. If I were to say I weren’t disappointed I’d be lying. He sighted a forgotten appointment and being exhausted as his reasons for not being able to make it.

I’m not sure how well I buy the “Forgotten” appointment excuse, considering the man has a memory like a steel trap, almost nothing escapes it. However, I can buy him being exhausted. I have seen him so tired that he has had difficulty remaining standing without swaying from side to side.

I replied to his e-mail, it took me almost an hour to compose it. Yeah, I guess I’m being anal about the whole thing but I wanted to let him know that it was ok if he backed out on the date. And considering we’d already spent six hours together this last Sunday, I wanted to make it clear to him that I didn’t want to monopolize his time.

I enjoy the time I spend with him, and the conversations we have. But I also understand I am just someone he’s recently met and I can’t realistically expect him to re-organize his entire social calendar just because we’ve met a whole four times and seem to have a mutual interest in one another.

I don’t hold this expectation, If anything I sympathize with him. I can see how easy it would be to get myself buried up to the eyeballs with volunteer work if I were in a position like his, and it’s pretty clear he’s gone and gotten himself buried.

I have a feeling his volunteering on all these committees is more of a sublimation of other desires than an actual interest in what the comities stand for, however I do believe some are genuine interests, like the arts workshops.

James said early on that his mother raised him to be generous and caring, and to put others before himself. However, he added that he was stingy with only one thing, his time. Which means anyone wanting to be a friend with, or have a relationship with him must be willing to bend and flex in order to accommodate him and his schedule.

At this point in time, the only set schedule I have is work, and transporting my roomies when needed, so it’s not like I don’t have room to bend a little, and I am clearly in no position to request, nor demand a regular, repeating scheduled meeting time with James.

Sooz says I’ve got a crush on James, and I’m constantly talking about him. That I’m acting like a smitten teen. I tried to explain to her that this is to be expected, because in many ways I am, emotionally, a teen.

Gay people do not develop emotionally at the same rate as heterosexuals simply because society doesn’t allow it. We are prevented from exploring relationships in our teens, and sometimes our environment limits that exploration until we reach middle age, or even later. It is not uncommon for people in their forties and fifties to just be beginning the exploration process after living the majority of their life in the closet.

James, being in his mid thirties has clearly had more experience in the arena of relationships than I have. And he is far more developed from what my amateurish assessment of the situation says.

I on the other hand, have had almost no experience in the field of relationships. Even though I came out at sixteen my family, life has prevented me from seeking out a stable relationship. But the -desire- has always been there.

I long for someone to spend my life with. Someone to come home to, someone to share my thoughts with, someone to laugh with, and someone to cry with.

Despite the fact that I was never physically lone, I know what loneliness is, It’s been a constant, but unwanted companion since my teen age years. It’s a deep seated emptiness that gnaws at the very core of my being and no matter how hard I try to remove it, it always seems to linger there.

“Desperation is so unattractive”, I once heard a jaded, vicious old queen say while watching some obviously high strung guy get shot down repeatedly at a bar. Sometimes I wonder if I look so -needy- that I scare away the very people who may alleviate my loneliness.

I’m constantly being told I’m cute, and that I’m a sweet heart, and that no one can believe that I’m single. But yet, I see no queue of guys lined up outside my front door with applications in hand for the position of husband. It makes me wonder what I’m doing wrong.

I know I’m shy in social settings where I don’t know many people. I tend to turn into a wall flower and just stand there watching everyone else. It sucks. Unless I am approached by someone I pretty much just hang out there in the background. I believe this has something to do with the fact that I’m single and well, considering it’s only been seven months since I moved here, I can’t exactly expect to have the house, dog, car, and white picket fence by now. Bug fuck, I would at least like to be -dating- someone on a regular basis by now.

I’m not sure what I expected when I moved here. Maybe I expected more from gay society, maybe I came expecting too much. But I know that it all feels shallow to me. None of the ‘events’ have any purpose besides them, except for the occasional aids fund raiser. Everything else seems to be yet another drag show, the latest side of beef flashing his meat, or be about who you can bag in the back room. Without sounding too… high brow... it’s beginning to bore me.

It all just leaves me wanting for something more substantial. Where is the depth, where is the meaning, where are the group picnics, barbeques, and fundraisers for more common things like the homeless shelter just down the block?

Homelessness is not strictly a heterosexual problem, a benefit or fundraiser for a homeless shelter is something that would help everyone. But all I see being the focus of gay society is the party, the sex, and the drugs. I’ve never been one for a party, I don’t do drugs, and well, unless I’m emotionally attached to the person I’m screwing, sex is highly overrated.

To the rest of the queers out there, I have this to say, Grow the fuck up, we are adult males, so lets start to act like it. Show some responsibility and leadership for a change, and while you’re at it, why not think about someone else, instead of where you might get to stick your dick tonight.

Instead of bitching about the world being so shallow, maybe I should just make a move and volunteer at a hospital or the health department. Maybe volunteering will help me feel as if my existence matters, and that my life has more meaning than the pure chaos it seems to be.

Right now, I feel like I’m in a dead end existence, and I have no future beyond the next hour. What would happen if I died right now? Who would remember me? And if someone does remember me, how long would I be remembered? I have done nothing noteworthy with my life, I’ve left nothing behind to make a mark, and possibly be remembered. I feel invisible, insubstantial, and shallow. I contribute nothing to society and do nothing but consume its resources. That needs to change; I need to change in order to feel better about myself.

Where do I begin? Do I just walk into a hospital or the health department and ask about volunteer work? Do I really think I could handle such a commitment? It’s not as if I have anything better to do with my time except sit around and play on the computer for hours on end, or go to the bar, get myself drunk, and make a fool of myself in front of complete strangers. Both of those are completely ‘acceptable’ activities in the ‘gay lifestyle’ from what I’ve seen so far, but it still leaves me feeling shallow.

Deep thoughts from the work place.

2005-05-21T13:00:00.000-05:00

Friday 4:42pm – Well, I got to work almost half an hour early. One of my managers daughters is here. Seems she is waiting for a friend to come pick her up.

I seem to be developing a following of sorts. As I was walking to work, I had two different drivers beep and wave at me, scariest part is I didn’t recognize either driver.

My latest Dean Koontz book has disappeared from work, which sucks because it was just starting to get good and I was really enjoying reading it. I brought blade runner 2: the edge of human with me to read today. If things don’t pick up some I have the feeling I may get half of the book read by time to close this place down.

Sooz called, seems that her and Ms. Katherine got kicked out by Bob once again. So they are on their way back to Metairie as I write this. It’s a long running drama with Bob. One I do not wish to become involved in, I have enough drama in my life already.

I signed up at alt.com the other night. Curiosity got the better of me. I guess James is having more of an impact on my life than I’d like to admit.

6:00pm - It’s still slow here, probably no more than four people in here, and Considering we have forty washers and fifty dryers that says something about how busy it is.

I’ve been watching the news and it reminds me why I hate television. It’s a wonder that humanity as a whole has survived as long as we have. We kill, maim, steal, rape, and defile each other on a daily basis. It makes me wonder just how some can maintain any faith in anything any more.

I fear for the future when I look around at today’s youth, I wonder what the world will be like when they are behind the helm of society, and I just hope I’m already dead by then so I don’t have to see, much less experience a world like that.

I see humanity as a whole, loosing its grip on morality one finger hold at a time. It’s a slow and painful process but I fear that it won’t be long before the general apathy of society overcomes its compassion and when that happens life becomes no longer worth living.

Society has become narcissistic, self centered, and hedonistic. It’s all about “me” from looks to pleasure. Everyone is out for themselves, and no one is willing to accept responsibility for anything they do. It’s always someone else’s fault.

I saw a bumper sticker the other day which said, “We’re all dysfunctional, get over it!”

It’s true, we are all dysfunctional in some respect or another. Some of us are emotionally unstable, others have physical problems, and those who have neither are just plain nuts. You -have- to be mildly insane to survive in this world. Everything is so screwed up that anyone who wasn’t mentally warped in some way would snap under the pressure of just trying to make sense of things.

This is why I’ve given up trying to make sense of things that don’t have direct impact on my daily life.

I guess this is why I prefer to read instead of watch television, Books have a natural order of progression, and in the back of your mind you know the way things will end. Life isn’t so straight forward and certain. It’s messy and chaotic, a haphazard conglomeration of clashing motivations, drives, and desires. Played out at a dangerously fast pace with no consideration for who may be standing in the way.

I guess the only thing any of us can be cert6ain of is the fact that we can be certain of nothing.

From childhood we struggle to understand the world around us, to build rules in which we believe the world operates by. We seek a sense of stability and order in order to find where we fit into the scheme of things. The saddest part of all this is that none of the rules we create in our minds are real, they are false assumptions and all it takes is a touch of chaos to prove those rules false, and turn our lives upside down.

We think we are evolved, advanced, and beyond our origins. What we are is delusional. Sure we may be technologically advanced beyond any other species on this planet but how do we employ that technology? What is our goal as a species?

Humanity has no focused direction. You see more organization in a colony of ants than you see when you look at humanity.

Technology advances constantly, every day a new discovery is made, but in what areas do you see the most advances? Our medical sciences seem content to treat symptoms of diseases, not seek and alleviate the causes.

Communications, do we really need 500 channels of the same, mind numbing garbage, with all the mind nourishing content of marshmallow crème? The stuff is brain candy, and like candy it eats away at your mind leaving rot in it’s wake. Do we really need a cell phone for every man, woman, child and dog? (Yes, that’s right folks, they now market cell phones with GPS locators so you can -track- your dog.)

With all these advances we have made, why are we still dependant on energy from oil when we have the technology to power our society by other means? Why have we not developed a technology that can reduce our waste products to their constituent molecules instead of burying it and pretending it does not exist any more?

Why are there hundreds of thousands of people around the world who don’t even have a basic education, much less a means of acquiring clean, drinkable water and food?

These are just a few, minor questions which should be addressed, and would be addressed by a responsible and truly advanced society.

We have the means to resolve many of the problems which plague our world, however humanity in general is too apathetic to have the desire and motivation to implement the changes that would be required in order to resolve these problems.

Until such time as humanity learns and grows beyond the “me” and “mine” aspect of it’s self, it will never make the sacrifices required to improve humanity as a whole.

To be honest, collective humanity reminds me of a two year old child. The whole concept of quality, sharing, and fair play are alien notions to us as a whole.

What scares me the most about this train of thought is, if humanity is -still- in it’s todlerhood -where- are humanity’s parents? Who is guiding us, teaching us, and raising us?

Who is there, watching over us, keeping us from poking things into wall outlets, or pulling pots of boiling water off the stove?

If we are truly alone as I fear, I don’t believe we as a species will survive into our teens, and if, by some quirk of fate, we do manage to make it into our teens, I feel sorry for any odd species we may run across, because I believe we will be an exceedingly cruel, and uncaring teen. Like some teens who delight in feeding frogs M-80’s or Alkaseltzers to seagulls.

Get your homo-speak decoder ring today!

2005-05-20T15:52:00.000-05:00

Mood: Neutral-good
Music: Boombastic by Shaggy

It’s Friday about 3:30pm, James called me last night about 9pm. He said he was exhausted and wouldn’t be able to make our date at the four seasons that night and that he’d call me in a couple of days and we’ll see about getting together then. Now, to James, a couple of days are exactly that, two days, so I’m expecting a call from him Saturday evening or night. This just happens to be his usual night for going to the four seasons anyway, so chances are we’ll probably meet up there.

I got an odd sensation he was on a fishing expedition last night, when he said “If I crossed the causeway, I don’t think I’d be able to make it back home tonight.” The ‘subtext’ I got off of that one was, “If I come over there tonight, can I crash at your place?” now if it weren’t for my roommates, and requiring an act of congress to even have someone knock on the door, much less enter the house, I would have replied, “You’re always welcome to crash at my place…” which would have translated to, “My bed will -always- be open to you.”… but that didn’t happen. I had to shoot him down by saying, “I’d rather have you safe, out of trouble, and not in the hospital than trying to drive back home.” And once you run that through the homo-decoder ring, you get, “I care about you, and I’d love to have you over, but my room mates would -kill- me if I did.”

*SIGH* I’m so frustrated, I get the distinct impression James wants to move this to a physical level, he’s dropped hints, ones I’m only seeing in hindsight. He’s very subtle and I’ve never been one for picking up on subtlety, call me dense, but that’s the way I am. And to complicate matters, there’s no where I can go with him except back to his place, and with his profession he has to be extremely careful about who he’s with. I’m not saying I’m a bad person, hell I’m a lot more clean cut than a lot of the guys in this city, it’s just that James doesn’t know that for a fact, so I can understand his caution.

I guess another source of my frustration with the whole situation is the limited contact I have with James. I don’t know when would be a good time to call him, I’m –afraid- to call and interrupt him at work. I have his home number now but don’t know when he’s there either. I just don’t know his routines well enough to judge when would be appropriate to call.

Anyway, it’s almost 4pm now, I need to get this posted and off get my butt on the road, as I need to stop at the store before getting to work. I have a distinct feeling it’s going to be a -long- night at work tonight.

Cold Feet

2005-05-19T12:24:00.001-05:00

Mood: Upbeat but slightly pensive.
Music: Hero by Chad Kroeger

Well, it’s almost noon, on Thursday. Woke up about 9am with major sinus issues going on, got to the point where the drainage was so bad I was thinking I might have to go to the hospital and have a breathing treatment done. However, I lucked out and there was some over the counter sinus medication down stairs in the pantry which cleared up the problem without need of a trip to the hospital.

Sooz got back home from taking her mom to work about ten thirty, shortly after she arrived I heard her cussing up a blue streak. Seems that she was trying to activate her mothers new Trac Fone. Obviously neither of them listened to me when I bitched about my problems with them, well anyway, they got a new phone, and can’t activate it for Laurel Mississippi, where Sooz’s mother will be living, it will only activate for the New Orleans area. In order to get it activated, a new SIM card needs to be issued for the phone. Heh, so much for nation wide access with Trac Fones :-/ yet another reason to hate’em.

Well, I’m headed in to work about 3:20pm today, hopefully I’ll be out of there by 11pm, because I want some time with James. There’s quite a bit I want to speak to him about, the problem is I don’t even know where to begin. It’s not that talking to him is difficult, it’s just my thoughts get all muddled and I have trouble expressing my thoughts in a coherent manner, at least that’s how I see myself. If I do however, he’s never indicated that he doesn’t understand what I’m trying to say.

I think tonight when I speak with James, I’ll ask if we can meet sometime outside of a bar setting. I’d like to know well we relate to one another on a one on one basis. I’m nervous though, and I don’t understand why, I’ve never been this anxious and pensive about seeing someone before. I guess I’m just uptight about it because he’s the best one that’s come along to date, and I don’t want to fuck things up with him. I feel like I’m just taking wild stabs in the dark with him, I don’t know exactly where he stands on quite a few issues and it’s kind of scary.

What I really want to know is how he feels about me, and what he wants. He gives all the signs of being interested in me, but I’m not sure in which direction he wants to take things, and I think that’s the nature of my dilemma, I’m not sure where were headed.

I guess only time will tell.

Cleaning & Chaos

2005-05-17T11:49:00.000-05:00

Mood: Level Headed
Music: Try Again (Funky Mix) by Aaliyah

Well, it’s 10:42am, and I still haven’t been to bed since yesterday. I’m doing it again, staying awake all night long for no good reason, and sleeping during the day. This happens every time my regular routine is disrupted.

In this case, Sooz, one of my roomies has flip-flopped schedules with me at work, totally throwing my routine out the window in the process. She did this in order for her to attend her sons’ graduation in Mississippi, while I think it’s a good idea for her to attend, I would have appreciated some input into the sudden and radical change in my life in order to accommodate hers.

Well I finally got around to -really- cleaning up in my room; I got rid of all sooz’s stuff that had been sitting in here for over five months. You’d think they’d show some respect and get their crap out of here within a reasonable amount of time but no, of course, it falls on -me- to move the shit out and find places to put it.

Scott’s stuff is still in here, I don’t give a fuck what he says, I went through and re-organized it. I asked him if he’d mind if I moved the loose stuff into boxes and organize it a bit, he agreed to it. So I went through and compacted a lot of it down so it takes up less space. I was floored when I discovered that the television box that I thought was full, was actually -empty- this thing has been a pain in my ass for months, ever since I got my bed and dresser in here, it’s always been in my way. The damn box didn’t have a single thing in it, and could have been thrown out -months- ago.

I went through and moved the majority of his video tapes into that box alone. There was also another box from a smaller television set which was already full of his videos. All in all, I compacted what took up a full third of my room down to an eighth without throwing anything away in the process. Now if I can just get him to move some of this crap out of here.

On a different topic, I got a pleasant surprise today while I was out getting my roommate a pack of cigarettes. James called me, he had originally called to let me know he liked the CD, and that he’d listened to most of it while he was in his car. He also wanted to know if I’d be at the four seasons come this Thursday, now, normally I would be, considering it’s my first day off work for the week, however, with the schedule swapping by sooz, I’m now working Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, instead of Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday with the occasional Saturday thrown in just to fuck with my social life. But long story short, I tried to explain that to James while trying to use a brain that just wasn’t working properly for some odd reason, I hope I got it properly communicated that I would do my -damndest- to be there after 11pm.

Knowing my luck I’m going to get some pathetic little ol lady come in at smack up 9pm with 180lbs of laundry she desperately needs to get done that night, and I’m going to be guilted into sitting there till 4am while she does it.

Come nine o’clock Thursday night I think I’m just going to walk out into the middle of the Laundromat and say, “Folks, its 9pm, time to get your last wash, and last dry in for the evening. I want -everyone- out of here by 10 o’clock, so -I- can be out of here by eleven, because I have a date tonight. I don’t -care- if your aunt Thelma’s antique, hand stitched hair net isn’t dry yet, I am -not- missing this date so you can get that last fifteen minutes of drying time in.”

While I was on the phone with James, I was tempted to ask him if he’d play a little game with me. He writes, and quite well, so I was half tempted to ask him to describe his room to me, as if it were a setting in one of his stories. I think I might just hit him up to start playing the game with me, trading off and on, just to test, and fine tune both of our literary skills. I think he might enjoy it, and I know I would.

I also spoke with Grant, and mercilessly dick-teased the hell out of him. I know it’s cruel of me to torment him with the possibility of ever getting anywhere with me when I damn well know it’s never going to happen. But he makes it -so- easy, it’s just one of those situations where you -have- to go there, even though you know it’s cruel and unusual punishment. I honestly think Grant’s going to make a good friend, once he realizes that all I’m ever going to do is tease the hell out of him, endlessly.

11:36am : Just got back from solving a craving problem.. Nicotine and Caffeine, I hit three convince stores, -none- of them had my cigarettes, come on people, what is so complex about keeping Doral menthol lights in a box, in stock? I finally had to go to the international market, one block from where I work to get the cigarettes, go figure, the only place in town that stocks almost nothing but middle eastern supplies would have my cigarettes, anyone else see the irony in this besides me?

Whips and Chains, Oh My!

2005-05-16T06:44:00.000-05:00

Mood: Even Keel
Song: Fired Up! By Funky Green Dogs

Well it’s been months since I’ve posted here, and it’s about time I got back to writing on a regular basis, now that I have something more interesting in my life to write about than bitching and whining about that Prick Steven.

My birthday came and went on February first, less than a hand full of days later, the police showed up at my door once again, seems my family just can’t hold on to my phone number to save their lives. This time however, it wasn’t notification that my mom was in the hospital once again, it was notification that she’d died.

I was numb, hell I was -still- numb after the shit I’d gone through with Steven and was just beginning to get over that, so finding out my mom had passed away was a major smack in the face. Like most shit in my life, I repressed her death, and it didn’t hit me until mothers day. Gotta love those hallmark holidays, they just suck, this one in particular. It hit me hard that my family hadn’t even bothered to notify me of when her funeral was, or what the arrangements would be.

As I predicted, they were animals about the whole thing, fighting and squabbling amongst one another in an attempt to grab what they could. I heard from one of my sisters, that the family had cleaned out her house grabbing up anything of value that wasn’t nailed down. So much for me being the executor of the estate.

My mom left her car to me, but of course, it’s not sitting in my drive way right now. My grandparents are currently trying to sell it. My name is on all the insurance policies, but I still haven’t had the incentive to cash them in. I contacted the insurance company; they want her medical records for the last five years. It’s just insane, in the last five years, my mom has seen over 30 doctors from all across the state of Michigan, I’d wind up spending more money collecting all the records and shipping them to the insurance company than I would get out of them in the long run. Fuck it, it’s not worth the time, effort, and aggravation.

Been hanging out at a bar that is local to me, The four seasons, it’s less than three miles from the apartment, met some really nice guys there. Unfortunately, there’s a problem with every one I’ve met so far. I have a thing going with one of the bartenders there (whom I refuse to name because some of the bar patrons might read this), he’s cool, but he’s also got a lover. I don’t really feel right about screwing around with the bartender on the sly, so I think I’m going to cut that out, we’ve only had sex once, but that hasn’t prevented us from trying on several other occasions.

Then, there’s Michael, he’s not bad looking, and I thought that there might be a possibility of something between us, but well; he just wants a fuck buddy. I on the other hand want something far more stable, so it looks like that’s going nowhere quickly.

Grant, just met him the other night, sweet guy, if not somewhat of a pig. He’s what is commonly referred to down here as a Coonass, a person lives in a mobile home, and quite content to live the low life. He’s fun, I like him, and I could see spending a lot of time with him, however, he’s sick. I’m not shallow enough to let that prevent me from being his friend; however, I’m not suicidal either. Even with using condoms, they aren’t 100% safe, and it’s a risk I’m not willing to take. I’m sorry Grant, you’re a sweet heart, but it just ain’t gonna happen. The most we will ever be is friends.

Craig, my fairy god mother, ok, ok, Uncle Craig as he wants me to call him, he says he’s not a queen yet because his mother’s still living, and she’s hidden the crown jewels from him. He’s a trip, and I really like him a lot. He he’s been around the block enough times to know where all the ruts are and how to avoid them, a wonderful source of information and inspiration. He keeps pushing me to make more of myself than I currently am, and I love him dearly for that. He can tell I’m not satisfied with my life the way it is, I just need to find the motivation to follow through with his suggestions.

And now we come to James, the current beau on the plate. Handsome, Suave, Kind, Courteous, Respectful, and a Cop to boot, hell he almost seems like something that’s fallen off the pages of a fairy tale. I have to admit, I had to do a triple take when I first saw him walk into the bar, he was dressed in slacks and dress shirt, suspenders, and tie, with a professional air about him that well, made me arch a brow and ask, ‘who is –that-?’

Normally I don’t go for suits, but something about him had a magnetic draw on me. Sounds too good to be true huh? Someone this good has to have flaws, and after talking with him, I got the feeling that he was being -too- friendly, too polite, and too courteous. I never once saw a look of displeasure cross his face, nor did I hear him say a single bad thing about anyone there, despite the fact that the place was crawling with freaks.

Now, this folks is where role playing games comes in handy, the concepts of Nature and Demeanor came to mind. For those who don’t understand this, let me explain.

Nature: This is your true self, what drives and motivates you in every aspect of your life. This is the core of your being, and more times than not, the very things you don’t want others to know less they find ways to manipulate and use you. Often times, these can be dirty little secrets that if known publicly, could make your life a living hell.

Demeanor: This is the face you show to everyone else. The daily ‘act’ you perform, consciously or subconsciously in order to interact with people on a daily basis. This is what you wear to distract people’s attention from your true nature, and defend yourself against manipulation and use.

Now that I’ve explained those concepts, James’s demeanor was slick, very slick, and so well crafted it reminded me of a Swiss watch. However, it seemed so finely tuned and polished that it attracted my attention instead of distracted me, it made it’s self as obvious to me as a gleaming red ‘vette, parked amongst battered work trucks.

Now, when you take into context the environment we were in, a bar, with lots of drunk, and obnoxious people all around us, this only amplified James’s demeanor, simply because it was so solidified and contrasting against the frayed and tattered edges of all the other drink-dampened demeanors of the other patrons.

But instead of giving me a feeling of unease, this only made me curious as to what he was hiding so carefully under the surface. (Yeah I know that whole thing about curiosity and the cat… but…)

Unlike the feeling of disquiet I got when I first saw Steven, I liked James on sight. I saw a man who took pride in his appearance, walked with an air of confidence that you don’t often see in a setting like that and well, ok, he is -hot- as hell. Now of course, since I liked him, and didn’t know him, I opted for observation over direct conversation. Yeah I’m like that. It’s amazing what you learn about a person just by watching and listening. (Something I should have put more faith in when dealing with Steven, Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so burnt.)

But anyway, as the night wore on, and my friends started bowing out of things, I found myself gravitating towards James. Ok, ok, ok, I admit, it was one of those moth-to-flame type situations. I just couldn’t help myself. He had roused my curiosity, and I -watched- him closely. And to be honest, I didn’t see a single thing in him that I didn’t like, except that nagging little -he’s too perfect- feeling was getting.

Well, just before James headed out for the night, he’d given me his card, work numbers only, which surprised me considering he was a cop. I’d think he’d try to keep his work life separated from his social and personal life, especially since he’d met me at a gay bar.

Then again, only a moron would call and harass a cop at his work place, so that would be a suitable deterrent for psychopaths and stalkers. But after I’d thought about it for a bit, I came to the conclusion it was yet another ‘shield’ he’d put in place about himself, much like that gleaming, polished demeanor of his. It limits people’s access to him, and puts everything into his sphere of control.

After James had left, a guy who’d pulled him aside to talk to him a short while before he’d left pretty much ‘pounced’ on me for lack of a better word. Stuart is the guys name, and well, I didn’t much care for him. Not that he was forceful or aggressive; he just came on strongly and provided me with far too much detail about his personal life. However he gave me quite a bit of information about James, much of which seemed to shed a rather ugly light on him.

It seems from Stuarts point of view, James and him had been in a long running relationship, but not the ‘average’ type of relationship. From what Stuart told me James was into S&M, in particular, the Dominant portion. Stuart led me to believe that James was rather violent, much to Stuarts thrill and excitement. The guy had a giddy gleam to his eyes as he described one session in which James spanked him so hard, and long that he couldn’t sit for a week, literally. Now, this little tidbit of information, combined with the well crafted demeanor of James, along with other little things I’d picked up along the way led me to one conclusion… James was an extremely aggressive, but meticulously self-managed control freak with a taste for hurting others.

After leaving the bar, armed with James’s business card, I plunked myself down in front of the computer to see if I could find anything on the net that would back this conclusion I’d come to. While I was searching, I found nothing that supported Stuarts view of James, however I found a wealth of articles in which James had written. After reading just shy of one hundred of them, I realized that the man had a sense of humor that, while slightly warped, wasn’t all that different from my own.

Reading between the lines in his articles, he seems to have a genuine concern for others, believes in what he does, and seems frustrated at times by the sheer stupidity of some people.

This conclusion was totally at odds with the control-freak with a taste for violence that Stuart had described. Then, I tossed in a little bit of Stuart’s personal information into the mix, like the fact that Stuart openly admitted to having a crush on James, and that James had denied him more ‘time’ with him. Add my interest in James, which apparently Stuart had picked up on, to the mix and you come up with a slightly scorned, and jealous fuck-buddy, who sees me as a threat to any future sessions with James, and therefore was motivated by self-interest, trying to paint a rather harsh picture of James for me in an attempt to scare me away.

It almost worked.. I may be naive and gullible at times, but I’m not -stupid-. There were just too many contradictions in what I’d seen. James was openly affectionate with everyone at the bar, hugging, and giving people kisses good bye. He did it with the ease and non-chalice of someone who does this on a regular basis, however Stuart had said James had never shown him affection in the years they’d been having sex. Someone with an aversion to intimacy would not be as casual as James had been when he was saying good bye to people.

With the impression that Stuart had been yanking my chain, I compiled a CD of songs for James. It was a mixture of artists that he’d mentioned and a few of my own favorites tossed into the mix. I saw it as a way of forging common ground between the two of us by establishing knowledge of shared interests. Then, once completed, I called his work number, deliberately, after I felt he’d be out of the office, and left a message on his voice mail to give me a call next time he was headed out to the bar.

I can hear the confusion now, why on earth would I call after he’d left for the day? Easy, He’d made it clear that he was extremely busy, and stressed at work because several of his co-workers were out on leave. I didn’t want to cut into his time, and make a nuisance of myself when a simple voice mail, retrieved with the rest of his voice mail, could do the job and not take more than a few seconds of his time. I thought it was a more respectful way of handling things than interrupting him at work. Anyway, if I was wrong, and he was a control-freak, it was a far safer thing to do, than cut in on him at a wrong time and risk pissing him off. (Maybe I’m just skittish after Steven, but I didn’t want to risk it.)

That evening, I went back to the four seasons; I needed to talk to ‘Uncle’ Craig. I told him about what Stuart had told me, and what I’d found out about James on the web. Craig warned me against getting involved with James, making it clear to me that if he was involved in that heavy of an S&M scene, he could quite easily lose control and do some major damage, especially if, as I suspected, his job was the source of his need to vent in such a violent and controlling way.

Craig also brought to light another darker aspect I hadn’t considered. James is a cop, and with that comes power, the kind of power that could make someone’s life hell should it be turned against them. Getting tangled up in a bad situation with someone that wields that kind of power can have very nasty after-effects. At Craig’s prompting, I burnt James’s card. But that left me in a bind, I’d already made the call about the CD, and wanting to see James again and I had the feeling it was going to be a very uncomfortable phone call, and or meeting should I decide to go.

James solved that problem for me however, when he showed up shortly after Craig had left that evening. I wasn’t expecting him to show up at all, since he’d been out the prior night, and he’d told me that he usually only goes out once a week. It was just by chance that he’d showed up, since he’d been in the quarter with a couple friends from work.

I was nervous, but I decided to take the high road, instead of just scuttling everything right there. We talked, we talked about Stuart, and the things he’d said, we talked about James’s involvement with S&M, and how it played a role in his sex life. He openly admitted that he was involved with S&M; however, it wasn’t like Stuart had made it sound. He admitted he did spank Stuart to the extreme Stuart had mentioned, however Stuart had failed to tell me that it was done at Stuarts request.

James and I spoke about the intimacy, or lack there of with Stuart, and he explained to me that he cant function as a Dominant the way Stuart requires if he lets himself become emotionally attached to the person. That, I could understand, anyone with a strong conscience couldn’t in my mind, beat someone like that and not feel guilty later, even if that person wanted to be beaten.

However, this also raised a question in my mind, one that didn’t readily become apparent until I’d mulled it over. There’s a buried catch here. James said he had a taste for S&M, but he also said he enjoys intimate relationships as well, only with the occasional requirement for an S&M session. Now, there’s an issue here that arises when this is viewed from the prospective of a monogamous relationship. By his own admission, he can’t perform in an S&M scene with someone he has feelings for, and he admits he does on occasion need to partake in S&M. It seems the two are mutually exclusive, since he can’t perform in an S&M scene with someone he’s intimate with, he wouldn’t be able to do it with his lover, and hence he would have to seek a source outside the relationship.

This is something I will have to ask James about, as I never did ask him what his view on monogamous relationships is. However, taking into context his political affiliations, and his general personality, I have a strong feeling he would be for a monogamous relationship. This is going to be interesting to see how this all shakes out.

Welcome to my nightmare

2005-02-10T14:04:00.000-06:00

Mood: Numb
Music: None

It’s been quite some time since I’ve posted to this blog, mainly because nothing note worthy has happened in my life. Mardi Gras has come and gone, went to one parade, didn’t see what the hullabaloo was all about, but then again I wasn’t drunk so, I probably missed out on that aspect of it.

I still haven’t found a job yet. Now that Mardi Gras is over, I’ll be looking more seriously, all the tourists are leaving the area and businesses are opening back up for regular business. So they will be more inclined to take an applicant seriously.

The state police showed up at the door this morning, seems my family has once again misplaced my contact information, go figure. My mom’s back in the hospital, and this time it looks like she may not make it. This is the 3rd time since Christmas that she’s been in intensive care, on a respirator. She’d quit eating, and they operated on her, when they fed her for the first time she went into a seizure and quit breathing on them, so they had to put her on a respirator.

I know the prospects of my mom dying should have me in tears, and I feel them just behind the surface ready to roll, but for some reason they won’t come. Right now, I’m just numb. I guess this isn’t unexpected; I spend most of my time in a state of numbness, or limbo between emotions, guess that goes back to my childhood, a self-defense mechanism, causing me to shut down in order to avoid the hurt.

I don’t want to have to go back to Michigan, I don’t want to have to face the family again. Hell, if I don’t absolutely have to, I won’t go back, I’ll sever all ties with the family if my mom dies. She’s the only reason I’ve stayed in contact with them, and even then I never got notified of important things.

“Who needs friends? Your family hurts you bad enough as it is….” That thought just passed through my head, those were my moms words when she was asked why she didn’t go out and make friends.

I’m sorry mom, I don’t mean to hurt you but I can’t go back to Michigan. Not even if you’re so sick you may die. I’m afraid if I go back, I won’t have the strength to escape that hell ever again. If you die, I don’t think I will go to your funeral. Funerals are for the living, you won’t know if I’m there or not. I know where they will bury you, so I know where to find you once I have the strength to say my good byes in person.

My mom has me listed as the executor of her estate, everything is supposed to be processed through me, and I’m listed as the beneficiary of almost everything she owns. If she dies I think I’ll just stay here out of the way and let them fight over it like the animals they are, there’s less chance of being bitten from this distance.

For now, I’ll wait, and I’ll hope that she’ll make it. But I won’t expect anything more than to be notified that she’s died, at least I won’t have unreal expectations.

Idle Thoughts

2005-01-26T05:58:00.000-06:00

Mood: Upbeat
Song: Bad Touch (Roller Girl Mix)

Just finished the first half of the dishes, I think every dish in the house was dirty. Oy.. I’m sitting here at the computer waiting for the first batch to dry before I put them away and looking around my room. Need to clean this room as well.. starting to get cluttered, need to organize it some more.

Most of my belongings are still down stairs in the closet, not sure what I’m going to do with it all. Most of it is computer equipment that I have no place to set up, and well, no use for at the moment. Have everything installed on Black Hearted that I need while I’m here. Might consider moving all the 3d art stuff to Luna, and using her for doing art work, but without a desk for her, which probably wouldn’t be a good idea considering it’d get very uncomfortable very quickly, and making artwork takes time. Brought my graphics tablet up stairs a few days back, but still haven’t hooked it up to Black Hearted, it’d just be another mess of wires that serves no purpose but to tangle things up even more.

I probably won’t be able to post this for a few days, since the phone line is down, ahh well, those are the breaks. I do miss cable modem access though, I got accustomed to just plunking my ass down at the computer and being immediately connected and not having to wait more than a second or two for a web page to load.

If I can find a decent job come Monday, while Sooz and I go out job hunting, then I’ll seriously look into a cable modem. This AOL dialup shit is for the birds, hell dialup network sharing with AOL is a pain in the ass. Every time you disconnect, or get bumped you have to re-setup the network because they use their own dialer program and it re-sets the sharing privileges every time it’s loaded.

Just finished reading Resident Evil: The Umbrella Conspiracy last night, it’s a pretty good book, think I’ll read the next one in the series tonight. Have all six of them, picked up the paper back version of Resident Evil: Nemesis at a used book store, then decided to download the other five in the series as e-books. I haven’t been let down by them yet, but still have 3 of the books left to read before I make a full judgment call on them.

A picture says 1,000 words

2005-01-21T05:30:00.000-06:00

- Photo taken from Orleans parish public access inmate information server.

Is it just me, or does Steven look kinda pissy here?

Gee, I wonder why, maybe it's because he's having his mug shot taken after being arrested for cocaine posession, public intoxication, and auto theft?

Am I enjoying this? Two simple words come to mind.... FUCK YES!

Back in the saddle, I think.

2005-01-21T05:00:00.000-06:00

Mood: Chaotic
Song: I’m so broke, I can’t even pay attention.

Well, It’s been some time since I’ve actually sat down and written here. Mainly because I’ve been in such a funk I haven’t had the motivation to do much of anything but lay in bed and sleep.

Susan drug me to the store today to go grocery shopping with her, evidently she thinks that getting me out of my cave will get me motivated. Well, it was pretty uneventful; despite the fact the fucking security guard at Save-A-Center followed me around the store like I was a god damn thief. I wanted to turn around and clock the bastard.

I’ve given up on gong back to work at the bar, My manager ducked and dodged me one too many times for my taste, and considering I’m so broke I can’t even pay attention any more, I need to find my ass a job.

Money is tight here at the homestead, with Sooz getting the axe at the shell station, then going to work at the Laundromat, she’s not making as much as she used to. Scott got a raise, but it’s still not enough to support 3 people, and pay the rent on the apartment. I need to get out and find a job.

Sooz says she’s going to ride my ass tomorrow, and were both going out to fill out applications. Hopefully we can both find decent jobs. Even though I hate the idea of starting out at the bottom, in a dead end job, I’m going to have to do it, at least until I get some savings built back up. So it looks like I’m going to apply at the local grocery stores as a stockman, at least that way I won’t have to play trained monkey and make change for people.

There are a few computer shops in the area, I might be able to get a job at one of them, the problem is the mom & pop type computer shops are usually not hiring outside the family, and the larger ones want degrees or certifications. I have no little piece of paper saying I know what I know, and of course, they don’t care about that. But I’ll give it a stab anyway, I have the distinct impression I’ll be wasting my breath, ink, and paper but oh well.

Ducked out on my second date with Greg today, we were supposed to meet in the quarter at 2pm I slept until four. He called my cell phone about half a dozen times, left two messages, but I don’t have the minutes left on my phone to retrieve the messages much less answer his calls. Didn’t have the money to get to the quarter anyway, much less buy any drinks, and I wasn’t about to sponge off of Sooz just to string Greg on even more. I could always use Susan’s phone to call him, but I just don’t feel right about the situation between he and I. I don’t feel anything for him, and the guy is crazy about me.

I guess it’s like Sooz says, He’s not enough of a danger boy for me. He’s totally right for me, and all I seem to want are the ones that are totally inappropriate or bad for me. I really need to get my priorities straightened out. I think I’d rack up quite the therapists bill with my obsession for danger boys.

I don’t understand it, to be honest; all I want is someone who’ll care for me as much as I care for him. But when I look at Greg, I see how much of a sweetie he is, but he does /absolutely/ nothing for me now that I’ve gotten to know him. Go figure…

Maybe I just want someone more like myself, Greg is, well .. more upper class than me. He’s a chef at a high class restaurant, makes very good money, and well, I look at him, then look at myself, and I don’t see where we mesh. I’m left hanging there wondering what the fuck he sees in me. He’s made it plainly obvious that he thinks I’m physically attractive, and he thinks I’m a sweet heart. It just bothers me that when I leave after a date with him I still feel hollow inside. I may be in a good mood, but there’s no longing to see him again.

I know it will probably break his heart, but I need to let him know before he gets too seriously attached to me.

I knew it would happen eventually, but my asthma is starting to kick in once again. I was blessedly free of it during the fall on the way down here, but I’m starting to wheeze more frequently. It seriously sucks considering I don’t have any money to go see a doctor and get medication. I’m afraid it’s going to flair up come spring, and put me in a hospital. I can’t afford that, especially not right now when I don’t have a job. I only have nine doses left on my medication left over from before I moved down here. After that there will be nothing between me and a nasty asthma attack except luck. I hope I can get a job within the week, that way I can get in to see a doctor and get some medication prescribed.

My mom is back in the hospital, got a birthday card from her the other day. In it she wrote that she’d be going back in the day after she sent the card. Her hand writing has gone to hell, she used to write so beautifully, but now everything is jagged lines from the trembling of her hands. I feel so sorry for her; I know she has to be so lonely and scared now that she’s living on her own. Part of me wishes I could go back, but I know it’s just not possible, the family pushed me out of there, and I need a life of my own.

Not that I’ve got one even though I’ve been away from home for almost a year now.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to try.

American Idiot

2005-01-21T04:21:00.000-06:00

Everyone Sing Along, American Idiot, by Green Day

Don't wanna be an American idiot.
Don't want a nation under the new MEDIA.
And can you hear the sound of hysteria?
The subliminal mind fuck America.

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alienation.
EVERYTHING isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue

Well maybe I'm the faggot America.
I'm not a part of a redneck agenda.
Now everybody do the propaganda.
And sing along in the age of paranoia.

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alienation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue

Don't wanna be an American idiot.
One nation controlled by the media.
Information age of hysteria.
IT'S GOING OUT THE IDIOT America.

Welcome to a new kind of tension.
All across the alienation.
Everything isn't meant to be okay.
Television dreams of tomorrow.
We're not the ones who're meant to follow.
For that's enough to argue

---- Thank You Green Day, I couldn't have said it better.

Freedom: At what cost?

2005-01-13T03:41:00.000-06:00

Just got an offline message from Steven’s wife… He was arrested on January fifth, in Orleans parish. The man from the dealership finally caught up with him. I wasn’t surprised to discover that when he was searched, they found cocaine on him. However what did surprise me was that he’s going to be transferred through not one, but three parishes, and in the process going to face two counts against him in Jefferson and one in St. Charles.

He has a $15,000 bond on the cocaine charges alone, and considering the other charges, and the fact that he’s a repeat offender. I have the distinct impression he won’t be bothering me again for some time.

His wife asked him about the things I’d told her, of course he denied them, and said he couldn’t understand why I’d say such things about him. To be honest, I don’t think he realizes the things he does, I think he’s sick mentally, and needs psychiatric care. It’s difficult for me to see him doing the kinds of things he’s done intentionally to hurt people, especially the ones he claims he loves. Only someone who has a mental disorder would do these kinds of things.

She still swears up and down that she’s leaving him; she however has yet to confront him and tell him that. So who knows, only time will tell.

Part of me wants to call central, see if he’s still there, and find out when visiting hours are. Why? I guess I still care about the bastard, and I know he needs a friend now more than ever. But I logically know that now is the best time to bury him in my past, yet another skeleton to add to my already over-stuffed closet, and move on with my life.

I’m free, so why don’t I feel good about it?

Waiting for Friday

2005-01-04T08:18:00.000-06:00

Mood: Neutral – Good
Music: None

Gifts abounded yesterday from both room mates, which I found a pleasant surprise, it helped get me out of the funk that I was in. Thank you both Sooz and Scott.

Scott’s gifts were Two DVD’s both tastelessly tacky in theatrical quality, but made up for it in scantily clad men. The Brotherhood II: Young Warlocks, was the best of the two. The actors tried their best to salvage the miserable script and horrible directing, I give them an A for effort, and honestly think if the script had been developed a bit more (Paying special attention to sorting out the chaos created by mixed mythos) before the actors where subjected to it’s horrors, it might have actually been a quality movie. That is, of course, if they would have had a budget for special effects that went beyond a smoke machine and strobe light.

Now, one would logically assume that the director would have learned from his mistakes in The Brotherhood II, when he went to make The Brotherhood III: Young Demons. But it seems Mr. David DeCoteau, the director and co-author of both movies put less effort into the latter of the two. I would call The Brotherhood III a knock off slasher flick, however there was only one scene where someone got slashed, and that was a simple dagger in the arm during a shower scene.

For all the scantily clad men in fetish gear, these two movies could have been much more.. appealing if the director would have had more balls and actually did a little research into the mythos he was throwing about, oh, and if he had actually explored the homo-erotic tendencies of his characters, things might have gotten very interesting indeed.

Scott told me this same director did a queer werewolf flick where he actually grew some balls and hiked up the homo content. If I feel like tormenting myself some more, I might actually look into it.

Sooz’s gift was a wood CD tower, and dinner from burger king. Both of which I was desperately needing at the moment. Ok I spoke of their packrat-fetishes the other journal entry, mine is I’m a data-packrat. I have CD’s coming out the ears, movies on CD, movies on DVD, and well movies on my hard drives as well. I’ve taken to collecting gay themed movies, particularly dramas and action flicks. Well, that and smut, but we won’t go into detail on that, right now ;-)

Got a call from Greg last night as well, he invited me out to dinner Friday, I accepted without hesitation. He still thinks I’m cute… I still think he needs glasses. Hopefully things will go well Friday, however I’m slightly concerned since he wants to go to an up scale restaurant, and all I own are blue jeans, sneakers and t-shirts. Hopefully I can come up with something decent to wear before Friday.

Only time will tell….

Humans are sheep

2005-01-03T15:15:00.000-06:00

Mood: Neutral Ground
Song: About You, by Bugs

Yesterday wasn’t one of my best days. My emotions were bouncing around more than a Kangaroo on crack, although I admit, I spent more time in the bitchy-moody portion of the spectrum than on the up beat half.

I still haven’t called Greg, I know he’s probably forgotten about me or written me off by now, since I didn’t call him right away. I guess I’m afraid of what will happen, and I think it’s too soon for me to get involved in something with Steven’s hook marks still fresh and sore.

Went out and checked to see if I could spot the tire marks on the pavement from the vehicle that pealed several layers off its tires the other night. Couldn’t find them, but I know I wasn’t dreaming it.

My family is back in touch with me, calling me to let me know the status of my mom. Seems she was supposed to go home from the hospital yesterday, but as usual, my sister Kelley was no where to be found, and she was my mom’s only way home. Nothing has changed with my family, pure and utter chaos abounds.

Saw a bumper sticker last night that sums up the world perfectly. “We’re all dysfunctional. Get over it.” Watched the news for the second time since I’ve been down here, they were talking about the earthquake and tsunami victims. For some reason I couldn’t summon any compassion for the thousands of people that died. The only thing that ran through my mind is, “Life’s just that tough on the stupid. You live in an earth quake zone, expect to die in a earthquake. You live near the ocean, near a fault line, expect the ocean to rise up and swallow you alive.”

Admittedly, I live in a hurricane and flood prone area, should I die in either, I expect no sympathy. Should all my possessions be destroyed in either, but I survive, I expect no aid. I brought it on myself by locating myself in such a natural disasters path.

It’s Darwinism at its best, survival of the fittest, smartest, and strongest. Human society these days is pandering to the weakest, and it’s dragging the entire human race to its knees under the collective burden. We have forgotten where we come from, and what it took to get here, we’ve forgotten our instincts, and as a result we are changing from an animal into a virus, multiplying without purpose, wandering without direction and destroying the very things that keep us alive.

Humanity needs to pull it’s collective head out of it’s collective ass, take a look around it’s self, straighten out it’s priorities, then find a new path for it’s self before it goes hurtling off a cliff without even noticing it’s there.

… Ok, I think I’m done with my rant for the day…. I think…

Fog on the horizon

2005-01-02T15:30:00.000-06:00

Mood: Hazy-grey
Song: None

Depression is creeping up on me, I can feel it, like a slow fog rolling in over the horizon. I’m sleeping more, even when I’m not tired, I have no real reason to get out of bed and do anything, there’s no stabilizing force in my life to schedule events around. This happens every time I don’t have a job. I loose a sense of meaning and direction in my life.

I cleaned up my room yesterday, well about as clean as it can get while still being half storage for Scott and Susan, my room mates. Just looking at what’s sitting across my room from me in Scott’s stuff. I can see where a lot of it can be weeded out. All it would take is a DVD writer, and a little time and the ungodly stacks of video tapes would be reduced to about a dozen DVD’s that take up one tenth the space. But to be honest, I doubt that would ever happen. About the only type of change Scott likes, is the kind he finds laying on the ground.

I think they’re both descendants of packrats. However, Susans branch of the family tree collects paper items, where as Scotts, seems to have a fetish for plastic. Well, ok, just took a look in my closet, which is still dominated by both their stuff, and if the huge ass stack of hustler and penthouse magazines attests to anything, I’m guessing Scott as a fetish for paper as well.

Just got a call from Susan wondering where I was, was supposed to be headed home to pick up the laundry. But I decided to park myself here and add this entry into my blog, I just don’t feel like doing shit today. I just want to curl up and go back to bed.

Caught myself justifying some of Steven’s actions while I was half asleep, laying in bed earlier today, once I realized what I was doing, I quickly put a stop to it. But it’s amazing how you so easily fall back into a pattern of thinking when you least expect it.

I think I should call Greg, maybe see if he and I can get together some time soon. I think I’d like to get out of here for a bit and just be with someone new and different.

Finally got that damn tracphone canceled, after calling yet again. I think Steven knows I did it too, because last night I heard a car that has that BMW’s distinctive engine sound revving it’s engine outside the apartment, then squealed it’s tires before it took off. I haven’t checked for black marks on the pavement but I’m betting they’ll be right in front of the apartment.

Anyway, I need to get this laundry up to the laundry mat, and then go get Susan something to eat.

Oh, have I mentioned I want my job back yet?

New Years Day, Hang Over

2005-01-01T19:14:00.000-06:00

Mood: Content but hung over
Song: Before the Fire, by The Crux Shadows

Forgot to shut the alarm off before I went to bed last night, so I got a rude awakening at 10am, after struggling to silence it I crawled back into bed and tried to fall back to sleep. Wound up dreaming about him.. My back was hurting for some reason, and in my dream Steven had stabbed me in the back, gee wonder if my subconscious is trying to say something to me, since subtlety has failed, why not pull out all the stops eh?

I did get a sense of satisfaction though, because in my dream, I took the knife from him and slit his throat.. I know it’s violent, and ugly. But hey it was a dream, not reality. He didn’t appear any further in my dreams, thank gods.

Finally got a hold of my family today, seems my mom’s back in the hospital again. She’s got pneumonia; she was on a respirator and feeding tube yet again. It’s pretty clear that none of the family is stepping up to fill my shoes since I left. I hate to say it, but I’ve done my eleven years of prison time taking care of my mom. It’s time for me to have my own life; it’s time for them to sacrifice something to help her.

Either they need to get her an in home health nurse, move my mom in with them, or put her into a nursing home. Because she’s not taking proper care of herself, and she lies to us when we ask her how she’s doing, and weather she’s making her doctors appointments or not.

I no longer feel guilty for leaving, I was being used, just like Steven was using me. I know my mom needs someone to take care of her. But it was unfair of my family to place sole responsibility for my mom’s care on my shoulders. Eleven years of living in a room smaller than most prisoners cells, with no friends except those that I could make online, can anyone really blame me for wanting to get the fuck out of there? My life consisted of shopping, trips to the pharmacy, and trips to the doctors. What social interaction I had was limited to what I could manage speaking to clerks, secretaries, nurses and doctors, when I think about it; it’s amazing I can function in society at all without being freaked out by how many people are around me.

I guess my craving for attention comes from the fact that I went without interaction for so long. That’s probably why I loved working at the bar, there’s a certain level of freedom that you have while your there, that you don’t in your regular day to day life. You can drop all the walls and the pretenses and be as wild and spontaneous as you feel like being and it’s acceptable (to a point.. ), and the customers love it. It’s so radically different from working in say, a grocery store where you have to play ‘servant’ and you go through your job like a lobotomized, trained monkey.. pressing buttons, and making change endlessly.

I miss my job… I want to go back… but I know I’m not ready yet. Not until I’m sure he won’t show up and cause problems for me. Not until I’m sure I’m stable enough to deal with people like him.

I’m told the innocent aspect of me is one of the things that attract people to me, Steven stole that from me, at least a part of it. I know I’m naive still, in many things. But I don’t want to be that hard, callous person that I’ve seen in so many people here. I want to try and live by these words…. Love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like no one is watching, sing like no one is listening, and live like tomorrow may never come.

New year, new beginning

2005-01-01T07:01:00.000-06:00

Mood: Upbeat
Music: None

It’s been an eventful day, to say the least. After cashing my check, I dropped my room mate off at work, then went to get my hair cut. There’s something about getting your hair cut, and knowing your looking more human than before, that gives me a little boost. Well that, and I like the tingly sensation I feel in my scalp when something brushes across the short cut hair on the sides and back of my head. .. It just feels good.

Went to T-Mobile and got a new cell phone, set up my voice mail and got a bit vindictive, dialed my old cell phone number, got voice mail there, as expected, so I entered my pass code. Stupid fucker didn’t change it.. heeheh. I re-programmed it, It now says, “Hello.. You’ve reached (my name)’s cell phone. It’s been stolen by someone he thought was his friend. If you’re trying to reach (my name) please hang up and dial (my new cell number).” I then changed the access code to the voice mail so Steven can’t change the message, or retrieve voice mails.

Contacted Tracfone, and reported my old phone stolen several days ago. They say there’s nothing they can do about it except remove my information from the account. Since its pre-pay, as long as he continues to feed it minutes, he can use it as long as he wants. Joy of all joys. I’ll never recommend Tracfone to anyone, all they care about is milking their cash cow.

My room mate didn’t go with me to the quarter last night for new years. She and her hubby had an argument, and it killed all desire she had to go out with me. I was hesitant to go out on my own. But I’d made promises to several people to stop by and say happy new year, and with my behavior over the last month, last thing I wanted to do was not keep my word to them. So I charged my cell phone up, programmed it with every number I had written down, and a few I had memorized, changed clothes, primped, curled and set out for the quarter, half expecting to see him and need to dial 911.

First stop, the bar I used to work at. My manager, and one of the bar tenders were at the door, I gave them both hugs and kisses on the cheeks before heading in to grab something to drink. They were busy, so I didn’t linger and harass them much, I know what it’s like to have someone hanging around while you’re trying to work, it isn’t pleasant. Hung out there till midnight before I slipped off to one of the sister bars to hang out and torment a few people who used to do it to me. Had a beer, wished everyone a happy new years, and that’s when I met someone new, well ok, new to me…

His name is Greg, seems he’s an old hand at the bars in the French quarter, and knows the owner of the bar I used to work at. This, is an intimidating prospect for me, do I really want to risk getting involved with this guy, if he’s a close friend of the owner? I mean I got sacked already for bringing my personal life into the work place, do I really want to have to deal with the prospects of getting involved with a close friend of the business owner?

I like the guy, he seems like a real sweetie, he’s not all that bad looking, defiantly not magazine material, but hell, most of us aren’t. He loves to cuddle, to be held, and to hold someone as well. This is a major plus in my book, it shows he’s not afraid of intimacy. Not to mention, I like the way he kisses.

We spent most the night together, talking, cuddling and kissing. I learned a few things about him in between playing tonsil hockey. He’s a Chef at one of the upper class restaurants in the area. He has several room mates, he plays role playing games. He gives one hell of a good massage. He’d make a horrible bouncer at a bar, because he thought I was about 25, not almost 32.

He kept telling me I was cute, this did my ego good. Especially after being drug down by.. the asshole Steven. It feels good to know I’m attractive to people, even when I have such a low opinion of myself at the time. I went into the quarter with a fake smile on my face, half expecting the night to turn into another nightmare. And I left with a phone number, a dinner date, a real smile on my face, and the feeling that hey, things might not be as bad as I thought they were.

Thanks Greg, you made my night, I only hope I did the same for you.

Post Steven: Day 3, Prozac anyone?

2004-12-31T13:06:00.000-06:00

Mood: Resigned and Resentful
Song: Dust in the wind, Kansas

Just got back from picking up my check from the bar, it was less than I expected it to be. But, I should have known it’d be smaller than it was last check, since I missed several days on this pay period, and I didn’t cover one of the other bar tenders full sh ifts like I had on the prior check.

Talked a bit with my manager today, he gave me a hug, it felt good to know that I’m still welcomed there after all the trouble I’ve caused them all. He asked if I was coming to the New Year’s celebration tonight. I told him I wasn’t sure, depends on if Steven gets arrested or not. But to be honest, I think I’m going to go anyway. Fuck Steven, I know I’ll be safe in the bar, even if Steven shows up, Susan wants to go as well, I know the other bar tenders won’t be happy with me bringing a female into the place with me, but I really don’t care. I need my friends with me right now, and I need to get out and blow off some steam.

Talked online with Steven’s wife again today, she apologized for not letting me know she was sending the dealership owner and the police to my apartment. But there was no reason for her to apologize; I understand why she did it. And to be honest, I would have done the same thing if I thought Steven were with her. I no longer feel like I’m betraying Steven, I just want to see him hang for what he’s done.

I’m starting to get pissed; the anger and resentment is beginning to surface. My room mate says I’m being grouchy and grumpy. She’s the type to sooth and comfort someone who’s upset, I told her I need to get this way, in order to get over what’s happened to me. Its part of the normal grieving process, but it’s still hard for her to see me like this.

I know I’m not the most enjoyable person to be around when I’m like this, I do things that I don’t normally do, like play music louder than is acceptable for an apartment complex, and growl and grump at people. I just hope I get out of this … mood soon.. Or my room mates will begin lacing my food with Prozac.

I guess I should get off my ass and do something about this room, it’s still a disaster after Steven trashed it the other day as he went through my clothing looking for something to wear. What an asshole…

Post Steven: Day 3, Tainted

2004-12-31T10:36:00.000-06:00

Mood: Dark and Unclean
Song: Tainted Love, Marilyn Manson

I woke up this morning, feeling groggy, and soaked with sweat, could have been the sleeping pill, but not sure. I look around my room and see just as much wreckage as I feel inside. I really need to clean this place, maybe if I start outside, I may feel better inside.

I slept like a rock, don’t remember if I dreamed or not, this is a good thing, last thing I want is to see him again, even if it’s just a memory come to life in a dream. I hope the car dealership owner, and police got him last night, but somehow I have the nagging feeling he’s still out there. He’s too slick, and slimy to be caught that easily.

I took a shower; it’s amazing how such a simple act makes you feel so much better about yourself. I just wish I could carry that feeling with me all day long, unfortunately now that I’m dry and sitting here thinking about him, that .. tainted feeling is starting to creep back in.

I need to forget… how do you make yourself forget? If someone knows, please tell me.

Post Steven: Day 2, Caffeine and Nicotine

2004-12-31T01:24:00.000-06:00

I ate for the first time today about an hour ago, big mistake. I wasn’t hungry in the first place, and well, the taco bell didn’t set well with me. Up until that point I’d been running on caffeine and nicotine just to keep myself from going comatose.

I keep telling everyone that I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to pick up the pieces of my life and get going again. But the truth is, I haven’t even really thought about it. I close my eyes and try to picture the wreckage, and I don’t even know where to begin.

I’ll go tomorrow to pick up my last paycheck from work, and if I get a chance, I’ll talk to my manager for a bit. I really like him, hell I’ve always liked him since the first time we met, he’s just the type of person you instinctually trust. The kind of person I’ve heard described as ‘good people’. What he’s doing managing a place like the bar where I worked, I have no clue But I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet him, and work with him.

I know it wasn’t his decision to fire me, and I don’t hold it against him. It was a decision made by the general manager, and as my manager told me before, all the bar level managers are just ‘do boys’ … they’re handed down instructions, and they follow them. I’m just sorry that I let him down, I know he must have pulled some strings to get me in there in the first place.

I want to share this blog with him, he made a point of letting me know he wanted to keep in contact, and since I’m so ill-equipped to express my thoughts in a spoken format, this is the best way I know how to do it. When I pick up my check, I’ll give him the address to this blog, so he, in his own time can read this, and can understand what’s really been going on. I know everyone there knew my life was spinning out of control, I just don’t think they realized the extent at which it was.

I’m so tired right now, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. When I close my eyes my mind races with thoughts, dreams, and regrets. I think I might go down stairs and hunt down the sleeping pills my roommate picked up for me when I first started working at the bar, to help me adjust to working nights, and sleeping during the days. I never touched them, but I think they might come in handy tonight, just so I can get a peaceful sleep.

Hopefully, I won’t dream…

Post Steven: Day 2, The nightmare continues

2004-12-30T19:48:00.000-06:00

The noose about Steven’s neck is slowly closing, and he doesn’t even realize it yet. The police and the owner of the car dealership showed up at my door this evening, wanting to know where Steven was. I did my best to give them what I knew about where he’d be at, the French quarter, probably at the ninth circle or the phoenix. At least they have a place to start looking now.

A sense of relief is starting to come, now that I know they are actively looking for him. At least now I won’t have the nagging feeling that he’s going to be standing there waiting for me every time I turn a corner. I don’t know why I’m paranoid, maybe it’s because I’ve seen just how violent he can be, and how determined he can be when he wants something. And I know, he is going to be very pissed off when he discovers just what I’ve done.

I have the phone number of the man from the dealership, and I told him I’d call with any information I manage to gather. I know for sure I’ll call if he shows up, right after I dial 911, that is.

I wish I could talk to someone about all this, but I think his wife thinks that I’m hiding Steven. That’s why she sent the cops here looking for him, I don’t think she believes me that I want nothing more to do with Steven. That I just want to curl up somewhere and hide from him, so I can recover some sense of pride and self respect before I have to face him again. Maybe she’ll believe me now when she realizes that the cops came, saw, and left without anyone.

When will this nightmare end? Hey, who ever is running this fucking ride, stop it! I WANT OFF!

Post Steven: Day 2, Introspection

2004-12-30T18:04:00.000-06:00

I’m sitting here listening to my mp3 player, loaded down with music that I thought would psych me up, and help me get out of the daze I’ve found myself in today. I was fooling myself. I’ve spent more time looking inward at myself than I have looking where I was going.

My room mate’s done her best to cheer me up, she constantly tells me I’m handsome, and even complemented me on my choice of clothing. Hell I just grabbed what ever was handy and pulled it on (A ratty pair of cut off shorts, and a black muscle shirt), threw on my baseball cap from the bar I worked at and headed out the door.

I know I need a shower, I run my hands through my hair and it’s starting to feel greasy, but I don’t have the motivation to get up and actually do anything about it. I’ve been avoiding the mirrors in the house, I don’t want to look at myself because I know I won’t like what I see.

Logically, I know I should get myself cleaned up, go out and try to have fun, even if I don’t feel like it. I know once I get out on the town, with people who are outside of my inner chaos, that I will be sucked into the energy of the moment and forget, for a time, just how fucked up I really am. Who to call? Who to go out with? …. No one, I’m alone. Both my room mates are working tonight. I’d have to go alone, and I don’t want to go out alone, especially to the quarter, where he may run across me.

I guess one reason I latched so tightly on to Steven is because I am alone, and I’m so sick of being alone. That’s why I moved to this wasteland of a city in the first place. I was living in a small town, where I was one of 3 gay people. I so desperately needed a chance to be who I really was, and when the opportunity presented it’s self, I leapt at it. I’ve been here almost three months now, and the only friends I have are my room mates. What is wrong with me?

I have acquaintances, people I like from working at the bar, but none of them have gone beyond that, ‘acquaintance’ stage. Steven was the only one who seemed to be interested in me beyond that superficial social interaction.

I guess I really need to learn how to deal with people on a more social level. I’ve been so isolated from people most of my life that I lack many of the skills required to form large pools of friends. All my life I’ve only had a few close friends at one point in time or another. I always envied those people I’d see walking through the halls at school who had a gaggle of friends in tow. I was the loaner, the outcast you might say. I had a few friends, but the majority of them never knew the real me. Only a select hand full of them ever got to know the true me.

I need to let go… let go of a lot of things…

Post Steven: Day 2, Figured you out

2004-12-30T17:16:00.000-06:00

This song sums up Steven, and how I felt about him, hell how I still feel about him at times. I'm never going to be able to listen to this song, and not think about him.

(Figured You Out, By Nikelback)

I like your pants around your feet
And I like the dirt that's on your knees
And I like the way you say please
While you're looking up at me
You're like my favorite damn disease

And I love the places that we go
And I love the people that you know
And I love the way you can't say "No"
Too many long lines in a row
I love the powder on your nose

And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard Just to figure you out
Now I did, you wonder why

I like the freckles on your chest
And I like the way you like me best
And I like the way you're not impressed
While you put me to the test
I like the white stains on your dress
I love the way you pass the check
And I love the good times that you wreck
And I love your lack of self respect

While you're passed out on the deck
I love my hands around your neck

And I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out

Now I did, you wonder why
Why not before, you never tried
Gone for good, and this is it

I like your pants around your feet
And I like the dirt that's on your knees
And I like the way you still say please

While you're looking up at me

You're like my favorite damn disease

And I hate the places that we go
And I hate the people that you know
And I hate the way you can't say "No"
Too many long lines in a row
I hate the powder on your nose

And now I know who you are
It wasn't that hard
Just to figure you out

Now I did, you wonder why
Why not before, you never tried
Gone for good, and this is it

Post Steven: Day 2, Human Wreckage

2004-12-30T17:06:00.000-06:00

This is me, I look like hell. What's new?

Humor Me: Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me

2004-12-30T15:25:00.000-06:00

Albino Blacksheep / Flash / Everyone Else Has Had More Sex Than Me

Ok, I know this has nothing to do with my previous posts here, but I seriously needed some comic relief in my life. Thank the gods for my room mate and her warped sense of humor, because I really needed the laugh this gave me.

Post Steven: Day 2, Just an image.

2004-12-30T14:32:00.000-06:00

This is Steven, I don't know when the picture was taken, or how old it is. I found it on the web in one of his many profiles. He looks so innocent here, like he's half asleep and having his first cup of coffee in the morning. Isn't it amazing how deceiving looks can be?

Post Steven: Day 2

2004-12-30T13:48:00.000-06:00

He's there when I sleep, in my dreams. Turning them into nightmares. I can't remember all of it. But I remember walking into a bar, up a flight of stairs, and there he was standing just off the landing. Slowly swaying to the beat of the music. He had his eyes closed, unaware of my presence. I turned around, and tried to leave, but I felt his hand on my shoulder. Then I woke up... Had the strangest feeling, like my guts were tied in knots.

I'd left my instant messenger on last night, shortly after I woke up, his wife sent me a message asking where Steven was. Seems he's already found a replacement for me, gee, it's so nice to know your just as disposable as a bubble gum wrapper. The sickest part of it all, is I know who my replacement is. It's a guy by the name of Laurence, he's in his early twenties, rather naive, easy going guy. And Stevens already burnt him once some months ago. I feel sorry for the guy, I really do.

I think I know the reason Steven chose him, Laurence and I look similar, we both have dark hair, stocky builds, we're both easy going, easily manipulated. However Laurence will do drugs, I on the other hand wont. And well, Laurence has a job, so he found someone who could fund him.

Looking at this situation from the outside brings a whole new clarity to it all. It still hurts under the numbness, and I still have that nagging feeling that I've betrayed him. However, as my roommate says, he betrayed me first. I know he did, but I'm not the type of person to be vindictive and vicious. I guess I need to learn to be, to survive in this emotional wasteland of a city.

My room mate, Stevens wife, and I are planning on meeting up next Saturday, as the first official meeting of the burnt by bullshit club. You see, My room mate has and ex husband that is remarkably similar to Steven in many ways. She told me that she thought Steven reminded her of her ex the first time she met him. She saw this coming, and tried to warn me, I should have listened.

I still feel numb, and empty. Only superficial emotions are present. I miss the old me, the one that smiled easily, and was quick with a joke. I look in the mirror and see my face, and the haunted look in my eyes, and wonder who that person is, because I know it's not me.

... I hate what you've done to me Steven ...

Post Steven: Day 1, Addendum

2004-12-30T03:48:00.000-06:00

Well, my room mate took the incentive, evidently tired of listening to me ponder the fate of Steven, and called the Orleans parish sheriff’s department asking if they had Steven in custody. They don’t.

This however doesn’t mean some other police department doesn’t have him. But it also leaves that nagging little idea in the back of my head that he could show up at any moment. I doubt I’m going to sleep well tonight. If I were a drinker, and I had the money.. I’d be drinking rather strong 7 & 7’s right now.

Post Steven: Day 1

2004-12-30T02:04:00.000-06:00

It's day one, since I've written off Steven for the last time. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself, but I still catch myself looking out the window, expecting him to pull up in the drive and come knocking on my door.

But I guess I should rewind the clock a bit, and introduce myself and the situation. So here I go.

Almost three months ago, I moved to Metairie, LA, the oldest suburb of New Orleans. Within a week, I had a job working as security for a bar in the french quarter. Within a month, I was working full time at the bar as a bartender, and security. One week after being hired full time, Steven made his first appearance. I should have listened to that little nagging voice in the back of my head that said, "You don't like him." His charm, his sheer presence overpowered that nagging little voice, and quickly silenced it.

He lied to me, oh gods did he lie to me, he lied up one side and down the other but yet I found myself not holding the lies against him. The man was trouble with a capital T, and I knew it. But everything seemed as if it would be ok as long as I did my best to keep him happy. There wasn't a day that "Self Esteem" by The Offspring didn't run through my head. Hell, I'm listening to it right now as I write this. "The more you suffer, the more it shows you really care? Right?" how prophetic, or pathetic, you decide.

All my friends told me he was playing me, they told me to get rid of him. I smiled, I nodded, I listened to what they said, and I still went back to him for more. I'd try to plead temporary insanity; however, I think I've permanently lost my mind. My mom’s words of wisdom play over and over like a stuck record in the back of my mind…. “Psycho’s are fun to play with son, but they make terrible house pets.” .. I don’t think I truly understood what she meant by that, until now. Mom, how I wish I could have heeded your words sooner.

I’d been warned away from bi-sexual men since my ‘queer infancy’, the early days of learning about who I was, and where I fit in the world. I should have heeded my education more. You see, Steven is Bi, he’s married, has one biological child, and a step son. Admittedly, he’s separated from his wife, and I didn’t see a problem with forming a friendship with him, at least, that’s what I thought I was getting myself in for. Just a friendship, to help a guy out who was down on his luck, needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on. … He saw me coming a mile away….

The nightmare began simple enough, a game of pool as I unwound from a night at work, while I waited for my room mate to come pick me up. We talked a bit, shot the shit, and I headed home. Two days later, he’s back, this time I’m on the door as security, taking cover charges. He hangs out and chats with me for a bit, I learn he’s a stripper at one of the other bars in the quarter. No problem there, he looks good enough to be a stripper so I don’t think much about it, it isn’t until later that I discover that he’s also a hustler, and he turns tricks for extra spending cash.

He tells me that he only reason he’s selling his ass on the street, and out of bars is so he can send money back to his wife and kids. Ok, well at least he’s doing it for a good reason, or at least that’s what I thought at the time. We start spending more and more time with one another, a friendship starts to form, and I wind up learning more about him than I really cared to learn. He’s on drugs, meth, or ‘Tina’ as it’s called on the street, he also uses Coke. I found out about the coke first. We’d gone to one of the bars called the 9 th circle, we were both feeling tired and starting to drag ass. I had already worked that day, and just wanted to go home and crash, but Steven insisted that we go bar hopping some more. It was there that I learned about his taste for Cocaine, he left me at the bar, went to talk to someone then disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back he was shaking and full of energy. That’s when I saw the white powder on the underside of his nose. I wiped it away and asked him if he was high, he dodged the issue several times, until I finally cornered him into it then he admitted to it. He asked me if I had any problem with it, I lied and said no. But I’m pretty sure he could tell by my body language that I wasn’t all that pleased. I never personally saw him get high on coke after that, Tina however, was one drug he had no qualms about using in front of me despite my displeasure over the situation.

Somewhere during the three weeks I’d known Steven, our friendship took a sharp left turn, and the word love got tangled up into the mess that was our relationship. He was the first to use the word, and so far, I don’t really know if he loved me or not. If he didn’t he sure as hell faked it well. Maybe he was just in love with the idea of being in love with me, I don’t know. I’m still so confused about the whole thing.

I was drunk one night, after getting off work, I was hanging out in the back of the bar where the guys go to hook up and get off. I was hugging a guy, just holding him, fulfilling a need for intimacy that I was having trouble finding elsewhere. Steven showed up, and got pissed when he saw me with the other guy. He looked like he wanted to rip the guy limb for limb, he was so jealous of me holding anyone but him. That’s when I knew I had to push things with Steven, force him to make a decision he didn’t want to make. Either he had to commit to a relationship with me, or let me go. I’m the type of guy who wants just a single person in their life, I didn’t care about his wife at that point, they are separated, and what I saw Steven doing day in and day out told me he really didn’t want to get back with her, or else he wouldn’t be spending so much time with me, or hooking up with other guys. Why would anyone dedicate ninety percent of their free time with a guy, if they really wanted to be with a girl? And the jealous fit he threw when he saw me with another guy just solidified that in my mind. I made him choose, He chose to have a closed relationship between the two of us, with the understanding that his wife and kids came first, always. I accepted that.

What was I thinking? ..

I was in love, it started out as infatuation, but through some warped and perverse quirk of fate, it turned into love. What they say about love is true. Love is deaf, dumb, blind, and just plain stupid. But he killed it all with one simple act, I was working the door. I sat there taking cover, he came out of the bar then said, “I’m going to turn a three hundred dollar trick, when I come back we’ll have enough to be together tonight.” He meant get a hotel room for the night… but I felt something inside me die. I just wanted to curl up somewhere and cry. He went back inside, when he came out, he had another guy with him. Steven leaned over, gave me a kiss, then said “I love you..” several times, prompting me to say the same thing back to him, but I couldn’t. I no longer felt it. Something inside me had died, and all I felt was numbness. I soon learned though, to lie to him, and tell him I loved him, just to keep him from getting mad at me.

Pure and utter chaos soon followed. Christmas was rapidly approaching, With Steven holding the reigns, I blew through over four hundred dollars in less three days, and don’t have a god damn thing to show for it. For the life of me, when I think back on those days, I don’t know where it all went. Things at work started going down hill, my co-workers quit talking to me, and were withdrawing from me, except when they were telling me that Steven needed to find some other place to hang out while I was working. I tried to get Steven to leave, but he never seemed to get the hint.

He got sick, he told his wife and their family he had pneumonia, but it was more like bronchitis. He had me lie for him, and tell them I’d taken him to the hospital, even though I’d done no such thing. My room mates didn’t want him at the apartment, they didn’t trust him. So we’d taken to sleeping in my van to be together. The weather had turned cold, I couldn’t see him spending the nights on the street. So I started bringing blankets and sheets, and we slept in my van out in the spill way between lake Ponchitrain and the Mississippi river. We spent three nights out there, the fourth we spent in the drive way to the apartment, because I didn’t have enough money for gas to get us out to the spillway.

Christmas Eve came like a hurricane, and left total destruction in its wake. Steven was just getting over what ever ailment had been plaguing him. We’d taken his application out to Ingram, where he’d been assured a job on a tugboat. On the way back through the spillway the van broke down. I’d known there was a problem with the engine for some time, oil was passing into the coolant, and water was being expelled through the exhaust, and was also in the oil. I assumed it had a cracked cylinder wall. However the van died, and refused to run any more, loosing compression, venting it through the coolant system. We were stranded in the middle of a flood plane. I called my roommate to let her know, so she could arrange for someone to come pick us up at the nearest gas station.

We set out walking, big mistake. It had been raining, and kids, what happens in a flood plane when it rains?... anyone? … Anyone? … IT FLOODS.. The place is called a spillway for a reason. It’s a very large tract of land set aside for the express purpose of allowing the lake to flood into the river, and vice versa, to keep the populated areas dry. Steven, in his eternal wisdom seemed to have forgotten this vital tidbit of information when he drove my van into the place and got us stranded. Now, we were closer to the side of the spillway we were going to exit, than the side we entered from, so that’s naturally the direction we decided to head in.

That was mistake number two. We got about halfway to the break wall when we discovered that we were surrounded by water. On the left, and right are dredged ditches along the railroad trusses we’d been following through the area. Directly in front of us was a stretch of water, about eight foot wide. Looking back, I should have known not to try and cross it, but at the time I was freezing my ass off, wet up to my knees, and just wanting to get somewhere warm, so I boldly trudged out several paces, and was promptly swept off my feet. The ground disappeared beneath me, and if I hadn’t been close enough to grab the railroad truss as I started to sink past my hips, I would have been swept away. The current was strong, far stronger than it appeared on the surface. But I should have known by the muddy hue of the water that it was far deeper than it looked. With Steven’s help I managed to get back on dry ground, but by then I was soaked from the waist down.

Steven, although he didn’t nearly get as wet as I did, didn’t handle the cold nearly as well. On the way back to the van, his legs began cramping up. I wound up half walking, half carrying him back to the van. Once there I had to strip him down and help him change. I guess there’s something to be said for having a stocky body, with more muscle mass, you hold heat better, and the dense muscle mass tends to generate more heat. Being trim and slender was not a good thing for Steven that day.

As we waited for the police to come rescue our adventurous asses, my room mate called to let me know her niece and son were in a car wreck. Her son came through without much injury, her niece however, didn’t fair so well and was in the emergency room by the time that the police got us to the nearest gas station.

Steven and I waited for nearly half an hour before My roomate’s mom showed up, she’d been to almost every gas station in town looking for us. I swear, the woman couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag even if you drew her a map and gave her a mag flashlight.

On the way back, my room mate called to let me know the bad news, her niece was brain dead. They were just waiting for her body to realize the fact that her brain had been destroyed. She told me not to tell her mom what was going on, so I had her mom drop us off at her work, where she could tell her mother what had happened.

Things were a blur, I went home, got showered and changed for work. We dropped my room mate and her mother off at her mothers apartment, and Steven and I went to my work. Several things happened that night that set off the tone for the next few days. I found Steven’s missing reading glasses on the desk upstairs at work. They had been lost when his coat was stolen. How did they get upstairs near my locker? No one could give me a satisfactory reason so I talked to my boss about it, and pretty much told him that I felt like someone was playing games with me. That would make the third item I’d had stolen from me at work, well not just me, from Steven and I. I’d had a leather wrist band stolen, my watch stolen, then his coat stolen. It felt like someone there was fucking with me, and I said so. I said I can put up with people fucking with me, but when someone starts fucking with someone I care about, that’s where I draw the line…. I should have kept my mouth shut.

Steven came to me, telling me he wanted to move the car from the garage up near the bar, since parking was plentiful. He wanted somewhere warm out of the weather to sleep, and wanted to be near me as well. I didn’t protest, I should have..

He brought the car up and parked it out on the street in front of the bar.. he was on the cell phone, I assume it was to his wife.. I didn’t protest, he’d already burnt through almost two hundred bucks in minutes so far, what’s another twenty at that point.. I just didn’t have the energy to fight any more about it.

My manager came out about ten minutes later, and had me move inside, telling me that being miserable wasn’t part of the job description, and I should move inside where it’s warm. I didn’t protest, it was starting to sleet again and my shoes were still wet from the impromptu swim earlier that day. I was also miserable not only from being cold, but also from what I’d been going through with the man who was asleep in the front seat of the car parked out front.

It didn’t take long for word to get around that I suspected one of the co-workers as a thief, and I found myself being alienated even more. I sat just inside the door at work, and no one spoke to me except the customers as they came through and paid cover. I caught several people glaring at me, and when they realized I’d caught them, they’d look away. I should have known better.

Five-o-clock rolled around, Steven came in asking where the cell phone was. He had it last, seems it’d turned up missing. He blamed it on some guy leaning into the car and stealing it while he slept. I suspected otherwise. I suspected he ran the minutes on it down, then ditched it in order to keep me from getting mad at him. Anyway I got the hell out of there faster than the bartenders, I just wanted to go home, go to bed, and forget the day had ever happened. Another mistake…

Christmas day rolled around; Steven had spent the night in my bed, and for the first time had shown an unprompted act of affection. What really hit home was he did it when he thought I was sleeping. I had my back to him, he was laying behind me, he leaned forward and kissed the base of my neck, just above and between my shoulder blades. It seems like an insignificant gesture, something so small. But it really hit me hard, and made me feel like he really did love me.

The alarm went off late, and we rushed to get ready and out to the bus stop. It didn’t dawn on either of us until we got there that it’d had been snowing, and the busses wouldn’t be running. It was a double whammy, Christmas day, and bad weather. In New Orleans, you can pretty much nix the idea of public transport on either occasion, both happening at the same time, your pretty much screwed unless you have money for a taxi. And well, with Steven on hand, money was hard to come by and even harder to hold on to. I called in to work and told them I couldn’t make it… I should have tied harder..

Steven and I went back to the apartment, and for the first time we actually managed to have sex without fighting over one thing or another, but to be honest, at that point it was purely mechanical for me. I didn’t enjoy it. I’d shut myself off to him so much earlier in the relationship that I no longer felt any joy, happiness, or sadness when dealing with him, unless it was something so profound that it managed to penetrate the wall I’d thrown up, like that simple kiss on my neck had.

The day after Christmas, Steven was supposed to meet his wife in Kenner at the Dennies, we were running behind schedule. I’d shut off the alarm clock and fallen back asleep, I was so tired, I’d been running on little to no sleep for so long, trying to keep up with Steven and his drug driven energy. We were originally going to take the bus out there, but we would have been late if we had. What little money I had left went to a cab rid there. And they didn’t show up till after Steven had yelled at me, blaming me for everything, and sent me back to the apartment to check the computer for messages from his wife.

No messages.. is the message I called the Dennies with, the woman that answered the phone told me that his family had arrived. So that took a weight off my mind. I went upstairs and crashed, watched movies and pretty much sat in numb, empty bliss. They really need to learn how to bottle this feeling. It would make so many relationships much easier to tolerate.

My room mate showed up two days early. I used her cell phone to call and retrieve my voice mail. That’s when I learned I was fired. I called my boss, scheduled a meeting the next day to talk about it, and hoped I could explain, and try to keep my job. I should have known better…

Steven showed up at six the next morning.. He wanted my help, seems he had two guys in his car he needed me to help him get rid of.. Ok, let’s back up a moment… What Car? Steven didn’t even have a roof over his head, much less a pot to piss in, or a window to throw it out of. Where’d he get a car, errr.. more exactly.. where’d he get the money to buy a car, insure a car, and license a car?

Three weeks prior, we’d been to laplace, we’d stopped at several car dealerships, just screwing around, taking cars for test drives. We found a white BMW 325i Steven fell in love with it. And I have to admit, I liked it as well. …. Well, it was sitting in my drive way.. and he sure as hell didn’t have the money to buy it. Seems Dearest Steven had went back to the dealership to take it for yet another test drive, given them a false name, they didn’t check his ID, just like the time before, only difference, this time he didn’t return the car.

I knew then and there, there was no salvaging anything with Steven. I rode in silence, in the passenger seat of that stolen BMW to the French quarter. I sat in that seat as he told me he had made a decision that he was going to leave his wife and his kid. He took off his wedding ring, and he tore off the gothic love bracelet his wife had given him for Christmas then threw them out on to the pavement of Rampart Street. I sat there and listened has he told me about having a job for me in Atlanta, at a bar where he used to manage. All I had to do was show up there and he’d have me a job. I could hear it in his voice, he wanted me to leave with him, he needed me to leave with him. I lead him on, letting him believe that there was a chance I’d go with him, but I knew down deep inside that hell would freeze over before I left the city with him. The depths he’d stoop to, to achieve what he desired were cradling me in its cold black leathered interior, and it felt hollow to me. Just as hollow as I felt when I looked into his hazel eyes. It was over, he’d killed every last ounce of hope I had for him.

I walked to the bar where I worked and went upstairs, to let my manager know I was there. I got a cold reception, I had expected as much, I was early, and he had stressed ‘after ten’ I went back down stirs and waited. My replacement was behind the bar, I didn’t particularly like the guy the first time I met him but I put up with him with the hopes that I could salvage my job.

I waited for over an hour for my manager, he left, then came back, I waited some more, then was finally told I could come upstairs. That’s when I noticed my name tag was missing from my locker, and that my replacement had already taken it over. I knew then, that there was no salvaging my job. I took my locker keys off my key ring and waited, doing my best to maintain my composure while I listened to my manager. Long story short, loose Steven, get your shit together, and you have a chance of getting your job back.

I did my best not to cry, I held my shit together till I got outside, and even then I struggled to maintain my composure. I had let this … this… user, manipulator, hustler, and whore, totally destroy my life in a mere month. And I had no one to blame but myself…

I waited for half an hour for Steven to show back up and give me a ride home, he never showed, finally I walked out to canal street, opened my wallet and fished in my emergency fund, money I’d never told Steven I had stashed in a zipped compartment of my wallet, and road the street car, and the bus back home. I don’t remember the trip, I just remember the words of my boss running through my head over, and over, asking the same question, over and over, “What do you see in him? He’s not available to you, he’s married… “ … I couldn’t answer that question; the only thing I could say to him was “I don’t know.”

It’s been one day, and 12 hours since I’ve seen Steven. I look for his face in a crowd, or behind the wheel of vehicles as they drive by, but logically I know he’s probably in The Orleans Parish Police lockup. When I see someone who resembles him, I’m filled with a mixture of excitement and dread. I want to see him, but I’m afraid of what will happen when I do.

I chatted with his wife online today; Steven made the mistake of leaving his yahoo id and password on my computer. I felt shitty for doing it, but I told her what he’s been doing lately, and I plan on letting her read this. I feel sorry for her and her kids, and I feel sorry for Steven, he’s so self destructive, once he realizes what’s happened it will probably kill him. Either that, or he’ll come looking to kill me. Maybe both, only time will tell.

Steven needs help, he needs help to realize the only way he’s going to get better, is if he does it for himself. He also needs help, professional help, the kind that comes in a bottle, and is prescribed by doctors. His volatile temper, drug abuse, and violent mood swings will be his undoing.

Looking deep beneath the grey fuzzy haze that is the protective numbing wall I’ve built up inside of myself, I can say this. “Steven, I love you. But I hate the things you do, the way you speak to me when you’re angry, and the way you use other people. I’ve seen you at your best, and I’ve seen you at your worst. All I can say is this, if you ever get your self cleaned up, and learn to control your self destructive nature, I will welcome you back with open arms. But until that time Steven, I can no longer afford to bare the cost of supporting you emotionally, financially, and socially. It is time for you to move on. It’s time for you to grow up. It’s time for you to fend for yourself. And time for me to begin picking up the pieces, and begin to reassemble the remains of my life.”