Bearing Witness

NOW

2006-10-09T20:37:00.000-04:00

I have so not looked forward to starting this blog up again. While I have found the act of sharing my thoughts with others cathartic, I have found it painful to go back on occasion and read those thoughts. For the most part each post says the same thing: I am a mess; I have been a mess; I may continue to be a mess. My life is a constant struggle just to stay behind. Each answer introduces a more baffling question.

I now have the answer to my months of illness. I have a rare brain tumor-a craniopharyngioma. It effects 3% of the US population. It is benign. It has destroyed my pituitary gland, so my hormones are completely out of whack. My testosterone level is low. I tire easily. I have a hard time regulating my body temperature. I don't have much of an appetite. I think I'm two shades lighter. Surgery got rid of most of the tumor. Radiation will kill the rest, but it will return. That's the nature of the craniopharygiomic beast.

Initially this was to be a log of life with this illness. I even toyed with calling this page THE FINAL TOUR. It was my count-down to the end. I'm not afraid to die. I gave up a fear of death some time ago. In the hospital I realized that. What I had not quite realized was that...

I'm afraid to live.

PERMISSION TO LOVE

2006-05-09T13:25:00.000-04:00

Giving yourself permission to love is not enough.
You must also be able trust.
I thought I could,
but I guess not.
Maybe someday I will.
Why can't someday be today?

LOVE AGAIN

2006-05-08T23:07:00.000-04:00

My ex-wife and I haven't had many pleasant conversations in the last few months. Our exchanges have consisted mostly of short discussions about our son, and quaint inquiries into each other's well being. I, at one point, believed that we would be able to sit over a cup of coffee and discuss the merits of the latest Prince album, or laugh at some utterly ridiculous item in the news. But I gave up that ghost months ago. Too much had been said-things that could never be taken back. At best, I hoped we could one day get through a phone call without one of us hanging up in tears. And that we were able to do. Tonight however, we talked.

Of course we talked about our son's daycare and how he was handling the transition of yet another move (mine). It was nice. The fear normally present when we talked dissipated this time. I think we actually managed to laugh together. Then she brought up something she thought would be hard for me. She mentioned that she was dating again.

I was relieved. I had been carrying around guilt surrounding what I perceived to be her loneliness (all my fault). Her dating again seems to make her happy. If that is indeed true, it means I can finally give myself permission to love.

ERNEST WADDELL

2006-04-05T21:13:00.000-04:00

The first time I saw Ernest "Hotty" Waddell was as Dante on the HBO series THE WIRE. Dante was introduced in Season 2 as the new lover of gun toting homothug Omar, portrayed by Michael K. Williams. For those of you familiar with the series, you may recall that Omar's lover from Season 1, Brandon, was not only snuffed out, but also had the indignity of having his eyes gouged and his lifeless body splayed across the hood of a car on Baltimore's mean streets. Anyway, in Season 2 of the best damn series on television (it's coming back for Season 4), Omar hooked up with Dante, a new fineass hunk of caramel gorgeousness. In episode 2, I think, they engaged in the most amazingly hot kiss I have ever had the honor of witnessing with my own two eyes. Damn, Damn, Damn.

Later, I saw ol' boy on NBC's LAW AND ORDER: SVU as Ken Randall, the gay son of Detective "Fin" Tutuola (Ice-T) and I nearly fell out. Go head wit yo bad self. Now he is featured on the WB series THE BEDFORD DIARIES. I have watched the show twice. I don't know what it's about. I think it's got somthing to do with other college, sex and video tape. I know it's got some other people on it, but I don't know who the hell they are. I'm sure I could tell you if I wasn't obsessing about His Hotness. When the show is on I'm either looking at Ernest and thinking, "damn he's fine," or just thinking, "damn Ernest is fine." I can say I've seen the show, but I can't say that I've watched it.

He may not be gay, but in the words of Morris Day, "Mary sweet mother Jesus," this is a fine muthafucka. I think I'm in love. I could give up my self-imposed celebacy for him. Inaheartbeat. Know that.

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?

2006-03-08T11:06:00.000-05:00

I was reading my most recent journal this morning and was taken aback at how depressing it is. I started writing just as my marriage started to fall apart and 75% of the entries deal with some terrible thing that has happened in my life. I know my life ain't been no crystal stair, but damn. How could one man gather so much angst in such a short amount of time?

Easy. I am an eternal optimist who suffers from clinical depression. I live my life with a glass half full philosophy. My nature is to always look toward the best possible scenario. Inevitably, my chemical imbalance doesn’t let that outlook last too long. Right now I am trying to live without medication and it seems not to be working. I thought I could do it, but that’s not the case.

I don’t like my meds. Not because of the side effects, although I do believe Prozac is evil. I don’t like the idea of feeling I may never get off the drugs. I like drugs as much as the next guy-maybe more than the next guy; however, I want to chose my own drugs and take them when I want to. Unfortunately that may not be an option.

If I had a better support network, I think things would be okay. I have wonderful friends and family, they just can’t give me what I need most of the time. It’s because they don’t know what I need or that I need. I’m usually the one who props them up when things go awry. They’re used to that. When I’m out of sorts they don’t know what do. I guess it doesn’t help that I keep space between us. It’s the only way I can function, but I don’t think they understand it. Hell, most people don’t even know I’m on meds.

I’ve decided to stop looking at this as defeat. It can only improve my life. Right?

CLARITY

2006-02-19T22:51:00.000-05:00

I looked into my son's eyes tonight. I really looked deep. There was something in his face, his eyes, something I've never seen before. He's tired. He just wants to stay in one place. He doesn't want to go back and forth between me and his mother. He just wants to stay in one place. While I can come to terms with wanting some space from my ex-wife-wanting to stop the arguing-wanting to be happy-wanting her to be happy; I don't know if I can come to terms with the pain I have caused my son. I know he'll bounce back. Children have an amazing ability to do so. I don't ever want to see that look again. I'm sorry son.

CHANGES

2006-02-13T18:49:00.000-05:00

In a life that is already quite unstable I am making yet another change. First, let me say that the instability is fine for the most part. I realize that because of the life restructuring I did in the last 12 months, I have to wait for the dust to settle. And it will be a while before things finally come to rest.

While I did my best to keep the wolves at bay, they are now knocking at my door. Well actually they didn't knock. They called me on the phone and told me to get out. I must move from the studio that I love. I understand why. The owners of the buidling would like their rent. I would like to give it to them-but I don't have it.

Last year, right before Christmas, I was fired from my teaching gig. It appears that the program director and I had a bit of a disagreement over how to run my classroom. My boss felt that my classroom was not organized well enough. I wasn't teaching rocket science mind you. I was teaching two production classes (theatre and video) to elementary school students. While I admit that my class was a little chaotic, the kids enjoyed it and most of them were learning.

During the program assembly my students ran the lights. They costumed the actors. They managed the stage. They ran the sound. They composed eight songs for the production. That unfortunately didn't matter because my kids didn't sit at their desks to work and sometimes they didn't know what they were doing.

Actually I was thinking about quitting anyway. The classroom I was using belonged to a teacher who thought teaching art was a waste of time. He always let his room a mess and then complained that my kids destroyed his room. I have to admit that while we tried to restore his room, we weren't quite alble to leave his room the mess it was before we started. I also had too many kids. The program director's philosophy was to put kids who didn't want to act into the production classes. Just because a kid doesn't want to act doesn't mean that they want to learn production. While it was a bit much I didn't want them to fire me.

Now here I am with no money. Before they fired me the managed to mess up three checks in a row. One was little money the other two were no money at all. To top this off they took almost two months to give me my first paycheck when I was hired in September. I was screwed. If this had been the only financial fuck-up I could have dealt. But, my classes with my other teaching gig dried up a while back, and the part time job I took to supplement was inconsistent.

I have to move back with my folks. It's actually for the best. At least that's what I tell myself. My folks are having a hard time and I should be able to help them out. While I am currently unemployed I have a production opening soon which should net me a decent amount of money. Additionally, I should be starting a part-time gig soon and after months of waiting I should get my unempoyment.

Things in the long run will work out. I'll get another place. I'll get back on my feet financially. Somehow I can't get over the fact that right now-things suck.

FATHER TO SON

2006-01-23T00:00:00.000-05:00

My son just left. I won't see him again until Wednesday. I go through periods where that's okay, and othertimes I fucking lose my mind not seeing him for two days straight. This is an othertime.

I always wanted to have children, but never thought I would. It has been my experience to usually not get what I want. It seems that when I like something, a lot, it always fades away. Bands I like break up mere moments after I discover them. Products I like are discontinued. Relationships dissolve. People I love pass away. So, I never thought this parent thing would work out, but it did, and I am grateful.

Oddly enough, even at three, my son has always been there for me. While my (ex)wife had a relatively easy pregnancy, she had a difficult labor. We were looking forward to a water birth, but because of complications, she had to have a c-section. Then there was the post delivery surgery, so it was just me and my boy in the nursery. While we were waiting, unsure of what was happening with his mom, my boy held onto my finger, as though he were assuring me that everything was gonna be okay. [I know grasping for an object to hold is a common reflex among newborns, but I felt wasn’t a damned common reflex]. My son was there when I was diagnosed with clinical depression. My son was with me during the bleakest moments of my separation. My son was with me on my last day of teaching. He taught me to have faith, to reach beyond my grasp. Because he exists, I am.

I have some sort of illness. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I pray it’s not serious. I won’t go into the details, but I will say it has me concerned. My biggest concern is that I won’t be around for my boy. Yes, I want to see him grow up to be a man, but more importantly I want to help him on his journey. I want/need to teach him how to be a man. I need to have a more hands on approach with him than my father had with me.

I love my father and I learned a lot from him. But it was all from a distance. My father and I didn’t talk. I mean we dealt with surface shit, but we didn’t really talk. This is all too common. Most men, I’m sure, never have deep conversations with their pops. And gay men – you might as well forget it. I want to have those moments with my son. I want to tell him that it doesn’t matter who you lay with, it only matters who you are when you get up.

FRAGMENTIONABLES

2005-12-31T13:30:00.000-05:00

HAIKU

The year is over-
Ex-wife obsessed with papers.
Documents worthless.

LYRICS

I've always tried to hide
the way I felt deep inside.
Never revealing
where I've been,
conceal the real shape I'm in.
Living up to my deception
too much of a strain.
I'd rather not feel the pain.
I'd rather not feel...

Exoskeletal Blues

I need to find the rest of that song.

LYRICS Copyright: Ministers of the New Super Heavy Funk

DID I FAIL TO MENTION...? (Pt 1)

2005-12-30T18:22:00.002-05:00

I was talking to a friend a few days ago about my recent date, and I asked him if he knew I was gay. He knew that the date was with a man, but the circumstances were a little cloudy. My friend's response was, "Yeah, but you never told me, so I played dumb." After a few awkward moments we resumed the conversation, but I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that I never told him. I knew that he knew I was gay. I was outed to him by a friend who made it clear to me that he revealed my orientation. For some reason it just never seemed right to talk to my friend about my attraction to men.

It goes back to my reluctance to talk about my sex life. I was in a relationship with my first girlfriend for three months before I ever mentioned it to my family. It took another three months before they met her. I think this lack of openness stems from seeing my parents get westside with my older siblings. While I love my mother dearly, she on occasion has been known to have no tact whatsoever. One minute she is the bastion of southern hospitality then the next she is Torquemada. She doesn't mean anything by it. She's just nosey. As a result I have learned to maintain a certain amount of privacy. Additionally as a boy attracted to other boys, I learned early on how to avoid getting my ass kicked by boys who may not have shared my appreciation for the fellas.

I'm attracted to women - always have been, always will be. You could call me bisexual and I'd say - wrong. My scale only has two needles - heterosexual and non-heterosexual. As far as I'm concerned bisexuality doesn't exist. It's like limbo or socialism. It's a way station, a stop on the line until you get to your final destination.

My orientation is not so much connected to who I may be having sex with at the time, but my lifeperspective. I think there is a gay sensibility and you don't have to be sexually active to have a gay sensibility. I like guys. I like the way they walktalksmellfeel, and I make no apologies, yet I purposefully didn't tell my friend that I was gay. I was afraid that he would see me differently, that I wouldn't be Larry anymore, I'd Gay Larry. Who wants to be Gay Larry? I knew I had been outed and I still couldn't give my friend the benefit of the doubt.

Internalized homophobia is a muthafucka.

I should give my sister a call.

• • •

NO, MY WIFE AND I DID NOT DIVORCE BECAUSE OF MY SEXUALITY.

MARRIAGE MY ASS

2005-12-29T15:51:00.000-05:00

I just read Clay Cane's blog about marriage and it got me fired up. My wife of six years and I recently divorced and it has left me with and admittedly dim view of the institution. That's not entirely true. I never liked marriage. In fact my ex-wife and I bonded over our shared view that wedded bliss was a big ass lie. No married couple we knew was happy. Our older siblings all had unions that sucked. Our parents didn't like each other that much. Actually we came from households where our moms and dads didn't even sleep in the same beds. Hell, my father was banished to the basement and my mother's pet name for him was IT. Yet we plowed ahead anyway.

When we met our mutual interest in Prince was just too much. I had to be with this woman. She felt the same. We dated. Along the way we had long conversations about marriage. How it was oppressive toward women. How it meant so little in today's society. How if she did get married she was going to wear a black dress.

Initially the relationship was offdahook. We never argued. In fact we would try to fight and fail. We would laugh about it. That didn't last. No sir, we learnt how to fight real good. We would break - make up - break up - make up. Then we called it quits.

Dig if you will this picture. The year is 1994. My ex and I were just starting to talk again. I was missing her something bad. I missed the conversations. I missed going out. I missed her acerbic wit. I wanted it all back. I was tired of dating. We worked in the same office and were in the restaurant at a group outing. I heard her dinstinctive laugh. Damn. We were getting along. How did that happen? In a moment of weakness I proposed. She, in shock, did not answer. I loved that shit. She was playing hard to get. Eventually (five years later) I asked again and she said yes. This is after years of living together and many arguments.

The wedding was beautiful. We were making a commitment before our God, friends, family and community. It felt right at the time. Years passed. We had a baby (my partner in crime in the pic). We grew apart. I asked for separation. She asked for divorce. NOTE: When there are no obstacles like property, etc., that shit is fast. My ex got a layer in August (happy birthday to me) and we were divorced by Dec 2.

Now for those of you who think your life is incomplete without a spouse think again. Marriage does work for some people. Sometimes it is a natural outgrowth of a relationship. Unfortunately our society views it as the inevitable outcome of a serious relationship. Well, I can tell you this. I'm done. I'm finished.

As a matter of fact there are a number of things I'm done with. That however is fodder for later blogs.

LET'S GET IT STARTED

2005-12-27T15:27:00.000-05:00

I love writing. I really do. However, it is sometimes very hard for me to take the thoughts from my head, write them down, then assemble them into something remotely coherent. Sometimes slitting my wrists and bleeding to death is more preferable.

As I continually search for the right structure, the right form to shape my thoughts, I am starting to realize that no singular structure or form (for me anyway) exists. I need to write in a way that works for me even if it's a nospacepunctuationlessmess. I have just got to get the shit out of my head.

I sometimes worry about substance. Fuck substance. I need to worry about what's real. That's why the stuff that sucks - sucks. 'Cause it's not real, it's some "oh this is what I think I should be writing bullshit." I've got a lot of shit to write and I need to get started.