Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Obsession

I’ve spent the last few days painting. I was shopping around with my ‘friend’ Paul on Friday when we walked by an art store that had twenty percent off its merchandize. Paul decides to go in looking for a frame, and I leave with a bag full of art supplies.

It wasn’t a bad idea. I mean, this was something I have had a strong interest in for a while, but I know because of my addictive personality and my uncanny ability to be a perfectionist, it would probably cause severe mental trauma.

I have created four pieces of art. Each one different in their own merits and each one constantly in my mind. I have deemed these two as finished pieces that I am truly satisfied with as finished, and the other two…lets not think about it right now.

All my life I have put my soul into various projects. When I was a kid I would collect both stamps and comics. My collections are well organized, well thought out, knowledgeable and organized. At the age of eight I would peruse stamp collection magazines, whip out my fathers credit card, and proceed to order stamps until I reached the threshold: punishment.

My father was good about it all. He encouraged both collections, although holding the costs over my head, and nurtured this creative environment I was in. I loved him for that, even though I took advantage.

The collection of stamps is immense and it spans over a period of about six years; the comics span about ten years. I want both of these items in my life again, but sadly, they are in Newfoundland, and my father is hesitant to give them to me for three reasons. One, it would occupy me again, and he would consider it a waste of my time and energy. Secondly, he did invest his money into these projects also (although when I started working at the age of 13 I supported my own habits). Three, shipping is expensive. I did opt to pay for whatever shipping costs incurred.

Now, I have four pieces of art, and I also have a deep desire to run to the art store this afternoon and buy a massive canvas. It would keep me up for a few nights, maybe talking to myself about the proper colors, constantly working and reworking the piece, and thinking: I am as crazy as Jackson Pollock.

One of the things I am missing in my life is an artistic/creative outlet, and this would accomplish this yearning desire to produce. Unfortunately, I always take it to the next extreme and I don’t know when to quit.

I have four pieces…two are questionable, and I will bask in the enjoyment of creating something that I truly enjoy. I consider two of these works purchasable. I would buy them, and because of that I am truly satisfied and happy about the whole process.

The memory of being stoned and drunk, with a set of tweezers, arranging stamps according to their history and date of conception into a gigantic collector’s book still flashes in my mind. My back would ache, I would almost cry at times because I couldn’t escape my work, and the sun would eventually appear in the sky. I don’t want to do that again. I never want to be that obsessed again.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

A real eye opener

He had a conspicuous smile. I never quite knew whether or not I was coming or going half the time. The morning, lying together side by side, and knowing that I would have to leave him to a day of listlessness; he would be sprawled out on the bed, in and out, and hoping I would leave him to sleep.

Most mornings the window would blow in cold air, the birds would chirp, and I would leave his place and allow him to enjoy it all, but only for as long as I could. We lived on the lower portion of a house up in View Royal.

The area resembles a park, tree clad, green, and eventful but slow. The ocean was about a block away with little to no traffic at all times. It was one of the most romantic settings I have ever been in, and I’m sure part of it played into why I loved him so much. The peacefulness around us was breathtaking. Dennis, myself, and our two cats were the only things in the world for a year of my life, the rest of it was so inconsequential. The rest of it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was him.

Have you ever had a friend and lover that totally threw you for a loop? I came into this relationship completely oblivious and skeptical with respect to love. Love was something you see in movies; nobody could possess such a powerful emotion in real life. It just didn’t seem like something tangible, and still it’s not tangible, it’s something that we were given as thinking organisms, and it has allowed me to explore sides of my spirituality I never thought possible.

I remember the night I came out to my parents. I was living in British Columbia for about a year, and at the age of 23 I finally started exploring who I was. I finally started breaking down all my mental guards and I met someone.

He was the fourth guy I had ever slept with and I fell for him immediately. The night I saw him at the club my heart leapt. The first night I saw him, he was with a group of his friends, and I assumed he wasn’t from BC. I was so shy and uncomfortable that I didn’t make an attempt to intercept his attention. He wouldn’t have wanted me anyway…

A few months went by and I was just getting back from a vacation in Fort Lauderdale with my parents. I head out to the club and I see him again. He is leaned against one of the poles talking to a friend of his.

His dress was unusual. He wore checkered shirts along with standard jeans you could buy at a Winners location. He was 38, had a goatee, about five foot nine; he was someone that I wouldn’t consider hot, but there was something about him, some sexual presence and aura that I was drawn to.

As I walked into the club and saw him, the same complex emotions set in again, and I began to clam up. I almost turned around and left immediately, but the driving force inside of me pushed me forward. As I walk by, I make an effort to let him know that I am interested, I make direct eye contract with him, but unfortunately he is more focused on his friend.

Turning red with embarrassment I run to the bar and order a beer. A few minutes later he is on me, and later he tells me his friend told him that I was sizing him up. I’ve never been chased to the degree Dennis had perused me.

He stood in my eye view and just smiled, staring until I flushed and looked away. I quickly ascertained that the idea of subtly never quite was grasped in his long life. But, I play into it nonetheless.

After about ten minutes of idle conversation, I tell him I’m leaving and put on my jacket. I proceed to the exit only to be cut off by him. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. His stance is challenging and his playfulness is all too aparent.

“Home,” I reply, knowing full well I just want to be with him. “This bar makes me sick. ” All I can do is notice his bedroom eyes, the cut of his jeans, his arms which are dark and hairy, along with a smirk that would piss off the best of people.

We spend the next year together. We move into together after three months. There were highs and lows, great travel experiences, some intimacy, and a great learning experience. This man brought me out of my shell and made me realize what is important in life. He made me set a standard so high, that I fear I will never find such a connection again.

On the third month of the relationship, and after one significant break up, we decide to move into together. My parents tried to reach my apartment all that week, unbeknown to them, I was never home; I was always with Dennis.

I phone them after the move somewhat distraught; I'm upset that they have such control over my life. “Mom, I haven’t been home for a week, I’ve been really busy.” She expresses how worried she has been and that they were ready to phone the police. “How could you not check in after a week? What have you been doing?”

“Mom, I have some good news. I’m moving in with someone. It’s a one bedroom apartment and I’m going to live with my friend Dennis”. I hear the gears ticking and there is silence on the line. Dennis is sitting in the background watching contently, and wearily lending his support. He is more afraid of the consequences than I am.

“A one bedroom? Where are you going to sleep? Charlie, this makes no sense at all. We are worried about you, come home!” Right then and there, I guess after years of being controlled and put into a society that prevented me from both loving myself and being loved, I knew then and there, I will no longer hide who I am. I spend far too long in the shadows and this moment will change me for the rest of my life. For the first time in my life I felt truly alive.

“I’m gay mom. I’m in a relationship with Dennis, he’s my partner, and we are gong to live together”. My soul is screaming this out on the inside; I’m grinning and happy that I, the boy who was awkward and sad, the boy who never had a place in this world, and I have finally found something viable and meaningful.

“That’s gross.” She hangs up only to phone again twice telling me that I shouldn’t joke with her. She’s pleading that I change my mind, and that I’m confused right now. British Columbia had changed me, in her opinion, and it wasn’t for the best.

We all come around in time. In less than two weeks we were talking again, and in less than a year, we had the same unfounded relationship that had always existed between us. It takes time…for some people. Gay is a small part of the world I live in, and I’m glad. To analyze this culture I’m in would only upset the general population. I am much more old fashioned and respect myself far too much to follow their viewpoints.

I loved him more than you could possibly imagine. It took a year to get over it, and then, another year to regain who I was and to finally be in the proper space. I am finally complete and he was a big part of my life journey.

My only regret was being too logical in our relationship; I refused to accept his disability because I couldn’t reason his claims. He has a ‘sleep disorder’ which I couldn’t understand; I couldn’t find enough proof one way or the other, and because of that I grew skeptical and mistrusting.

The prediction early on was that we could never be with someone due to his disability. His doctors said it would ruin any relationship that he would make efforts with; although I disagree with his self-fulfilled prophecy; I believe he was the one who failed to make it work, not the disability.

Even so, I miss him so much.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Disruptive


Saturday night…

I end up at this character house – three floors tall – after hitting the majority of the club scene in Victoria. My friend Jay is with me, and we are a bit fucked.

The house has a DJ table set up, and the DJ tonight, is a handsome, dark haired man. He’s spinning the most amazing yet mellow tracks. Some of it is full of a lot of base and others are just on the brink of being great.

I’m high and I’m looking around only to notice some familiar faces who are apart of the nightlife here in Victoria. There is a gay couple making out on the couch while we are dancing in the main living area. Their energies are mix. The more handsome, dark featured gay boy is closed. I’m guessing it’s because he has been hit on one to many times. And, his partner is looking around, trying to gain the attentions of others in the room.

At one point he waves at me, singling me to come over and chat, but really I have no desire to help boast his ego, or join in some sort of one night partnership. I keep dancing and notice the people around me. I should have approached them.

The deck off of the main living area is massive. Plants are all around, and we are surrounded by trees. The night sky is now turning towards dawn, and I noticed the people around me. Some are guys who are still up at 5 in the morning; they are sizing up females, and also catch my eye only to give me subtle gestures, letting me know that they play both sides of the field.

I’m not sure if I want to be an experiment. I’m not sure what I want at this point, and I can feel myself becoming more and more introverted. This isn’t what I want.

One of the patrons is a lifeguard at the Y. I remember having a few conversations with her in the past, and on this night she is giving me her history, letting me know far too much in such a short period of time. After hearing about her ‘accident’, falling from a balcony and breaking her neck, than having less hours at the Y because of her disability, and how her brother… I lose track and go further into myself.

Looking around I see people on different highs and levels throughout the night. One bi man who is looking around decides to come over and sit next to me. I think he is high on cocaine, and he starts rambling about nothing. I forget what was said, but I only remember having to get up and approach someone more mellow and less stoned.

She was on the couch with prescription sunglasses. They are tailored and resemble ray bans. We talk for a while, and I decide she is an interesting chick. We lie outside on the deck, with a comforter over us, and just talk about nothing.

It’s all about nothing. I had the most superficial, meaningless conversations this night, only to be left wondering what’s important in life. I know this isn’t. This is the dark side of oblivion. I don't mind the scene so much as the way I am when I'm in this environment. I go home upset that I'm not chatty, and I'm basically a walking zombie. I need to do these things sober, otherwise I crumble, I change into the complete opposite of me, and that isn't acceptable.

Jay and I leave when the sun hits. The sky is clouded over, but we are thinking it’s about six in the morning. I like him, and I don’t like him. I think we share a lot of silence between us, and I’m not sure if I can relate to him. His energy is so different than mind, and I feel certain things emanating from him. He watches, and unfortunately for me, I think he is judging whether or not I am good enough for a relationship with him. I on the other hand know that it won’t happened, it was decided a year ago when we first slept together…he just doesn’t know it yet.

We get back to my place and both shower – with Jay taking the lead. As I get out of the shower, feeling groggy, dizzy, and inconsequential, Jay is lying on my couch in just a towel, turning red from embarrassment. I move over to the couch, and than lay on top of him, thinking this is what I want, minus of course the issue in the back of my head - there is a reason I'm not into him. Regardless, I go for it, and I imagine he is the one. I imagine we have a relationship and that I know him on a much more deeper level.

He is a great kisser, and has a great body. The downside of it all, the entire package is lacking.

We spend the reminder of the day together – until noon or so. Kissing, touching, sometimes talking, but not having sex. I touch every part of his body as we law sprawled out on my bed, with white sheets in under us, and a soft atmosphere me room provides.

The one thing E does is allow me to completely scan a person’s body, and pick up on energy deficiencies. I feel more in tune, and I complete this private act, but he wonders what I am doing…he picks up on it. I decide to tell him – fearing I will be judged – but in the case of Jay and I, it really doesn’t matter.

I find he has shoulder problems. One of his rotator cuffs will cause him lot of trouble in the future. It’s already happening, but I keep it optimistic by saying it wouldn’t occur until your 40’s. Or, what I was really thinking: You need to stop serving; it will destroy your body.

He has a mummer in his heart, bad knees, and a great deal of pain in his lower back. The poor guy is 30 – and mind you, he looks good for his age – but his body is already falling apart on him. After scanning him, I start to slide the negative energy away from him; I start with his hands, and slide the energy all the way down to his waste, not ideal but sufficient…I really should be standing over him and following all the way to his feet.

The more time I spend with him, the more I can feel that he is no longer interested. And, I don’t care. I mean, it would be nice to cuddle him all day while fighting this hangover, but I really don’t see the point. We have both now made up our mind, and hopefully the best we can do is hold on to a friendship; there will be no long term relationships after this seedy encounter.

I'm on this spirial. Sometimes, everything is calm, beautiful, and I can be me. I can head out, enjoy my confidence, and make impressions. Othertimes, I sink into myself, and I'm clawing to bring me out again. It doesn't bother me so much anymore, it's just a sign that something is amiss. We live our entire lives dealing with and helping other people, but in retrospect I really should have been working on myself.

I'm going to take myself out of it all for a while. I need to find me again. He's in there, screaming sometimes, but I need him back. The spirial is slowing down, and I'm wondering where I am in the chaos.

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

He's back

The married bi guy is back in my life again.

http://copeseticnature.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-alright-bi.html

I know you are thinking I’m crazy for even considering this, but we have been talking, and well, I have completely fallen for him. We have had some great conversations about how we feel about each other, and he is really opening up. I do understand that this will never go anywhere; it’s like our version of Brokeback Mountain, and I’m all for living out this experience. He has went from being more attracted to women, to now being more attracted to men, and is really giving me much more of himself than he refused to others in the past.

Mark (not his real name) told me that if he wasn’t married and so programmed not to fall for guys, he would be dating me and falling for me. All the while I’m thinking, why this guy? Why is it I fall for the men who are so emotionally unavailable?

Dating – a field where I am an experience veteran. I have been asked all the questions, I know the right things to say, and how to win a man over and get him into the sack. I do all these things, and meet great guys, but sometimes when I think the date is over, they develop a connection with me. I don’t.

When I date I almost always have zero emotional connections, but give me a guy who is conservative and emotionally distant, and I dream about being his husband. It’s certainly not healthy, but that’s what I’m into it. I could explore it in a much more pathological way, but I already know what I will find…

He’s coming over twice in August. He arrives in Vancouver, than to Victoria where I am asking him to extend the stay for an extra night. After two years of living with the infamous and emotionally distant Dennis – who by the way was very similar to this guy – I am now developing something more real with another man. My guards are totally down and I’m being candid, forward, and am starting to care a great deal about him.

The only warning I got was “don’t get too attached, I don’t want you to be hurt when I can’t return the same feelings”. And, yeah, I know I will be. I know that after spending these two weekends with him, I will be utterly devastated. The hopeless romantic inside me is yearning for it.

After he leaves me again; I will paint, write, become a little more cynical and relish in the love that I will have lost. You must think I’m a sucker for desperation, that I want to be hurt, but it’s not true; I enjoy the inspiration I gives me, the life experience that I will have obtained; I enjoy this lost soul who is struggling to find himself.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Tomorrow on the Runway


Old days, don't come to find me,
the sun is just about to climb up over there.
'While my heart is sinking I do not want my voice
to go out into the air'.
Did you leave the darkness without me?
You're always miles ahead.
And you're standing in tomorrow on the runway.

Oh be the music in my head,
the air around my bed, oh be my rest.
Replace the small disgraces of
the times and places that I never really left.
Did you leave the darkness without me?
You're always miles ahead.
And you're standing in tomorrow on the runway.

Oh I want to fly, fly forward into the light,
be alive, to come alive,
on the leaf-bright Friday drive,
sudden horses at the red light,
turn around, see clearer ways to go now.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

The Omen

My salvation lies in your love.
But sister, you know I’m so weary.
And you know sister, my hearts been broken.
Sometimes, sometimes, my mind is too strong to carry on.

There was a man at the pizza place tonight, sitting by himself, with a leather pocket book on the table and a pink rose. He looked polished, in his mid 40’s, graying hair, with a black jacket, grey pants, and black shoes. His socks were white, but I won’t hold it against him.

He was staring out the window. I assume he’s just finished a date, or is celebrating some sort of event, and the night in now closing in. I don’t see a lot in his eyes, and he barely moved; he just sat there, with no pizza, just staring out the window.

There are two girls at the next table eating pizza. They just finished up watching the remake of the Omen and were talking about it. That’s where I was tonight also. I was watching the Omen with a young gay boy who is struck with me and his friend.

The man suddenly lets out loud laugh. He’s laughing and mumbling things, and then it seems as if he is crying. We all look up stunned, not expecting this well-dressed and taken care of man to just burst out in this psychotic episode. I make eye contact with the two girls and we question each other with our eyes.

He suddenly slides back into his catatonic state, staring out the window again. Than a few minutes later, another burst of laughter and mumbling. As unsettling as it was, I wonder what happened to him. Is it a live of now being alone that is affecting his mental state? What went wrong?

In a virtue of ruins, I walk back to my car and drive home. Alone; leaving my friends behind in a crowd of moviegoers to fend for themselves. I’m seeing Gary this Thursday, and we are open, forward, and honest about what we think about each other. We have already taken it to a level I’m comfortable with; if I don’t shed my guards I’ll never let anyone else in.

In a virtue of dreams, I can only imagine the life that will follow. I met men all the time. I charm them into my bed, than I pick apart why it should never happen. Its distance, it’s his way of eating, lack of education; I will chalk up any excuse to get away from intimacy. But I’m ready again. I swear this time I’m ready. I want to be the hopeless romantic who gets caught again.

Monday, June 05, 2006

The prime minister of Canada will be a lesbian...?

It’s strange. It’s completely and absolutely strange.

We danced in lines. All throughout our teeny bopper years, than teenaged dances; weddings, and in the adult years clubs, the gentlemen would form lines, with the females in their eyesight standing quite far away, and they would dance.

The men would have their legs apart, and proceed to shuffle side to side depending on the tune. Nobody would ever dare dance in their own small group or break apart from the line. We were all afraid to standout and oppose this conformity. Some would joke in passing about the way we danced as kids, even still though; nobody ever said it was wrong.

It was not masculine to dance outside of the norm. If any of my community members back in ole town Newfoundland saw me dancing now; well frankly, I think they would be shocked. My hips go from side to side, I use my hands and arms to communicate and express myself with the music; it’s very masculine, mind you, but I could see receiving some blank stares and looks of hatred.

Tonight, the energy out in the club was very strange. I couldn’t dance, and felt my energy was being sucked away from me. Energy draining, it’s actually one of the few places – Victoria, that is – that is considered an energy pit. A place that completely affects its inhabitants on a mass scale.

I talked to my friend who is a genius, a psychologist who gave military counseling. We both talk about our interests in body language, human design, and how much you can really pick up from a person – if you are sensitive to that. Astoundingly, our ideas we’re so on par with other.

I know you may think it strange, but it’s all derisive to the less sensitive mind. I have found I can pick up a lot from people based on first impressions and reading their 'language', but at the same time there is a guard up, and I don't allow myself to explore it from a closer standpoint. To do so involves not only conversing, but investing some emotional energy into the encounter, and it really does take more effort.

A lesbian stood up, and the music shut off; she was just standing there and making the speech that she is running for the next prime minister. Her speech was fabulous and heartfelt; I’m wondering who she is. I can’t imagine her addressing this gay bar full of less than ideal candidates and expecting something more. They are not really there anymore, they just all stand there hoping someone will notice them, someone will hit on them, take them away from this complacency. God, seeing this sad little place makes me want to pack up and search for something more.

Most people ignored her, but she spoke clearly and strong. I was draw to her essence. She was standing straight, her hair was dark and curley, and a following of lesbians circled her, along with one older gay male, who looks familiar. I'm thinking there must be more to this, she must be someone of stature in order to get this air time. I gave her my attention.

Tonight, I’m adrift. There’s a warm wind; it’s racing through the streets. It's being funneled by the buildings surrounding it, and the wind is gripping. I’m walking home and experience one strange event after another. Lesbians giving speeches at gay bars, an apartment filled full of young adults belting out 80’s glam music, and the club itself which is filled with so many different people; lost souls, man. It really does a number of my psyche.

We get one chance. We get one absolute and complete chance to get it all right. I can’t imagine that ever happening. I don’t know; I’m too tired to think about this stuff. I have to concentrate on the simpler things in life like laundry and making dinner.

http://www.sundayherald.com/56107

The Sunday Herald gave an interesting commentary on the war in Iraq. It’s so fucking insane what they are doing over there. They are killing innocent families and people who aren’t that different from us. They are massacring them, and this will result in one of the worst war crimes book ever seen.

This is why lesbians want to be prime minister. Our system has gone amiss, and people are struggling, but nobody is really listening.