Well then.

So it's been a while. A few months. I've got a new job and loving it. I've got a new boy and love that, too. I've got a new (...ish?) computer and that's going well. Things are going well. But I spend most of my days angry, frustrated and ornery.

Let's recap.

Two months ago I was at a friend's house and I was introducing her and another friend to the outright hilarity that is Cougar Town. Shut up, it's fucking funny. It's one of those comedies where you don't have to think about the humor, it's just there for you. I love smart humor, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it's just fun to not have to think and just laugh. So we were drinking wine and watching Cougar Town on my computer when my friend (who, admittedly, is clumsy and should not be around electronics when alcohol is involved in any quantity) spills wine on my computer. The glass had maybe (maybe!) a tablespoon of wine in it and the wine hit the side of my computer and the screen went black. It was a MacBook, so naturally it was ridiculously expensive to fix. $1300 worth of expensive. But the third friend of this equation felt guilty, so she fronted the money and the two of us are paying her back slowly. So Harvey (that's his name, my MacBook) is back with a new case but the same ol' hard drive inside.

I work at an Inn on an island off the coast of Maine. It's beautiful, and perfect. I've been there for all of a month and a half and they want to move me up to manager. Not bad.

So maybe I jumped the gun a bit in the new boy department. There's a guy I've been spending a lot of time with, mostly on the ferry to and from the island which has been really nice. He lives on the island, which works out kind of great when I miss the last ferry back, which has been happening with more and more frequency. And the fact that he's beautiful and has the most comfortable bed in the world and a small, cozy cottage right on the water definitely doesn't hurt.

The frustration, beyond the normal money woes and self-image issues, comes from a condition called geographic tongue.  I won't link to it, but you can google it if you want. Basically, the tongue looks like a topographic map. I'm starting to think more and more that this is the condition that's been plaguing me since I was a small child. And while I am certainly prone to over-dramatizations, the use of "plaguing" is certainly not one of them. It's so painful that I have to call out of work sometimes, take benadryl and sleeping pills and just spend most of the day zonked out. There are fucking fissures on my tongue. What the hell?!

Anyways... I'm alive. I'm well, working on getting to great.

When it rains...

Boy does it fucking pour.

Note: this entry gets a little NSFW later on, so... there's that.

I've been doing some thinking about relationships. I'm currently in that very grey area before we actually use the b-labels and right now we're just flirting and spending the night. This guy is smoking hot. Beautiful brown eyes, very tight body and the cutest smile I have ever seen. And he was discharged from the military under DADT, which is kind of a turn-on. We had been flirting on and off for a few weeks, but things got crazy at my last job and we kind of lost touch a bit, he started dating someone else and so we didn't really talk a lot. Then one night he comes up to me and (very drunkenly) starts flirting with me kind of aggressively.

In this situation I tend to deflect. This is the same guy I mentioned earlier, who had approached me before and I had lied and said I had a boyfriend. We laughed a bit and he apologized, as it was his breakup strategy to drink and just have fun. Apparently he had broken up with his boyfriend about a week ago. Long story short, we spend the night together. We've been trading messages and texts and emails and have yet to go out on a date, but we meet up at the bar, have a few drinks, and spend the night doing amazingly depraved things.

I find myself getting.... anxious if he doesn't respond within a day. Is that desperate? Maybe. Will it scare away someone who doesn't want a relationship? Maybe. Is that bad? No. If I want a relationship, why would I spend time and energy in someone who doesn't? Either way, I think this is a non-issue now, so I no longer check for replies with anxiety, and more with excitement.

Here's the other thing I'm finding out... we're pretty sexually compatible, which is fantastic, but... hm. This may not be work-safe, so proceed with caution. I enjoy porn, and the porn I really get off on tends to be raunchier than most... lots of rimming, pissing, cum-eating, bareback (although I am well aware of the risks involved, so I think I watch that kind of porn to live vicariously through it... I have never intentionally gone bareback, and I don't plan on it anytime soon. I was stealthed once, but all my tests miraculously came out negative) and this guy is an aggressive top who can really pig out, which on paper is hot, but in practice? I get performance anxiety when he starts getting dirty and it pisses me off! I've finally found a partner who, sexually, is pretty much everything I get off on, but I freeze when we start getting into it. I have no idea what that means, because the idea of vanilla sex makes me kind of bummed out.

I dunno what the deal is exactly, but I am determined to find out. I guess I just have to have more sex to figure out what's wrong. Darn.

Because I can't say it enough

I am a proud gay man.

Last year I went to the Toronto Pride Festival. It was my second year in a row being at TO Pride and it was fabulous. We were situated on a street corner that intersected with one of the city's many trolley lines, so each time a trolley came along the parade stopped and the trolley floated along. My friends and I started shouting "trolley!" (like one might shout "car" when playing kickball in a not-so-busy street) and soon the crowd around us joined along. We got waves, horns, fingers and smiles thrown at us and took them all with appreciation and stride.

That night, I was sitting in my friend Jack's apartment, drinking a glass of vino verde getting ready to head out the Buddies in Bad Times (their history is amazing... you should check them out for a great whirlwind of queer Canadian theatre history). And it hit me.

It was June 28th, 2009.

Forty years earlier, men and women were arrested for being in a bar. Men and women were arrested for being themselves. For being Fabulous (it deserves capitalization).

Pride is fun. Pride month is summer, it's drinking on patios, outside parties, all-night raves and sexy men walking through the streets (side note: TD Bank in Toronto manages, every year, to find the most-toned, most-built, sexiest men to prance around in green speedos and hand out temporary TD Bank tattoos). I've been told more than once that Pride is "Gay Christmas."

But it's not. Pride is Gay Thanksgiving.

Thank you to the queens, drag or otherwise, who stood up. Thank you to the flamers, the femmes and the fairies. Thank you to those who came before. Thank you to those who fought but fell to GRID (when it was called that) and AIDS (when it came around). Thank you to the partners who stood by their side when they were told they couldn't and they shouldn't and did anyways. To the partners who stood by their side when given no explanation when there was none, and even when there was.

Thank you to the men and women who came before me. Who stood up for yourself and more importantly to be yourself. Thank you to each and every man I will never meet. To every woman who got lost in her eyes instead of his. To every confused he or she who desperately wanted -- no, needed -- to be a her or him. Thank you to my Marys, my friends of Dorothy, my family.

Thank you to every man, every woman, every person who fought for their right to love and be who they are. I, and my generation, owe you more than we could ever possibly say, and I hope a humble "thank you" can suffice.

Thank you. Because of you, I am a proud gay man.

This will, in retrospect, be bad...

As I write this, my computer refuses to connect to the wireless network in my apartment, so you’re getting this post a bit late. And drunkenly, although by the time I post it I may be entirely sober. Hopefully I won’t have edited. I apologize in advance for this being entirely scattered and non-linear.

Tonight was a bit of a breakthrough. It was a friend’s birthday so I met a few folks at a bar in town, one of two gay bars. We’ll call this bar B, and the other S. I met people at B, a bar that is typically low-key, with a nice pool table, a small bar and always is inhabited by an older crowd. Tonight was no different. At 24, I was the youngest by at least 8 years (and only then because they came to the bar for the mutual friends’ birthday). It was fun. I didn’t know anyone but the birthday boy and the guy who threw the party, but it was fun. I met new gays and for me this is huge. I tend to shy away from that because I just get so damned nervous when talking to anyone who is a potential partner.

My mind is a maelstrom of thoughts. Not in an intelligent way, mind you, but a crazy, messed-up typhoon of thinking. When I think of something, that thought is always attached to a potential. I think of all the different ways that thought can be played out. If that makes sense, then it would make sense that every gay or bi man that I talk to evokes this idea of a potential relationship. Even if I know the person, the thought is there, but if I know them well enough it quickly leaves. Every new person I meet, my mind goes into potentials, and potentials outcomes and potential relationships and that makes me nervous. Hence why I have trouble meeting new people, particularly gay men: I am nearly always nervous about how the relationship will pan out.

I have never dated someone in my age range. I have never really dated anyone, for that matter. I have only ever been with men at least seven or eight years my elder. I have only really been attracted to them, and there are either two reasons why, or one of two reasons why (see?? My mind is crazy.)

Reason one: older men have experience. There is no secret to my being a bottom, a submissive, a partner who loves when the other takes control. An older man knows what he wants and, ideally, takes it. That is what I enjoy, that’s what gets me off. Partly because with my upbringing, I have no idea what happens between two men, so I want someone to take control and teach me. Maybe after enough sexual partners the relationship will reach equilibrium, or maybe after enough the sexual partners the pattern will be so engrained I will have no other choice in the matter. Either is tempting, to be honest.

Reason two: older men are less likely to reject me. I have an average body. I have always had issues with the way I look and seemingly never the self-discipline to address that on my own. I get the sense that some older men are less focused on what their younger partner looks like than they are on the simple fact that a younger man still finds them sexually attractive. Don’t get me wrong – gray hair is hot. Even when looking at porn online, I prefer older, hairy, silver men to the shaven twinks, but I feel there is less room for rejection with older men.

Back to the breakthrough (although… I did need to get that down in writing. Not that it will change anything). At B, things were tame. At S, it was an “all male revue” night where typically the men shedding their clothes look closer to 12 than 22, but tonight the men were toned, built and very, very sexy. But they were smooth and I just felt unattracted and attracted at the same time. I feel like were I in better shape, these would be my potential sexual partners as opposed to the older, less in-shape men that fill my sexual resume. I enjoyed myself enough, but at the end of the night I was compelled to go back to B and have a final drink. It was the first time I had ever walked into that bar without knowing for sure that I knew someone in there. For me, that is a huge step. I can barely go into a restaurant without knowing that people I know are there.

The point being, I guess… (finally… good lord do I go on) I can feel this place easily becoming a pattern. This is the place I go. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place like that and it makes me nervous that this place is a bar. This is the first public gay place I’ve had to go to. With all of the predatory looking older men and the groping that happens, it still feels like a safe place for me. And that dichotomy makes me very, very nervous.

On a side note, I have a major crush on one of the (older, gray-haired, un-perfect but adorable) bartenders who was just leaving as I arrived. He asked why I came back and I couldn’t tell him it was because I was hoping he was still there. Instead I said the other bar was just not up to snuff (which was true, but inconsequential).

Sometimes I wonder with the way my mind works, if the only way I can really make sense of things is through a psychologist. 

Excelsior!

My sister is graduating from highschool tomorrow and that makes me feel old.

I spent the day yesterday up at my grandparents doing some yardwork for them and now I am delightfully sore. They hired a kid my age from the neighborhood to help out and afterwards we went for a beer and hooked up. It was... well, it happened.

I was at an irish pub in the city last night and we ran into this group of rugby players that were out for a bachelor party. Very hot. One guy lost his wedding ring, freaked out and when my roommate found it he made the bartender set up a $100 tab for us as appreciation. He then spent a half an hour hugging me and saying things like "you're gay? I never would have pegged you for being gay. You're a really good looking guy! I have a roommate who is gay, you should meet him." The roommate wasn't there, but I didn't mind because the whole rugby team was very appreciative of us, the ring-finders. So what I'm saying is I spent the night being man-handled by rugby bears. Glorious.

On unemployment

The title works two ways! I am currently on unemployment, and I'm going to muse on unemployment! Look at me being efficient!

Really the only musings I have right now are that unemployment is amazing and I don't know why I didn't do this sooner, and that I have too much time on my hands.

Now I'm looking at options to really exploit this glorious state I am in.

Option 1: Get a job you lazy hippy

The city I live in is terribly touristy, but not in a terribly annoying way. It's also one of the foodiest cities in America, so if I were to get a serving job I could make bank and it would be delightful.

Option 2: Couch surf like a dirty hippy

I have never been to the west coast, and I think I would enjoy it for a time. I know there is a ticket you can buy that's like, $600 where you can have the ability to ride the bus and take the train as often as you like for a month. This is an option. I know I would have to go to PEI, Ontario, New York, New Jersey, Florida, North Carolina, Chicago, Nashville, maybe Dallas or Austin, San Fran, San Diego, LA, the Lesser Portland, Seattle and Vancouver. Pretty much just skip over the United States of Jesus and say hello to friends along the way.

Option 3: Couch surf like a dirty American

Leave the country! Hell, leave the continent! Europe, Asia, Australia, South America... but fuck Africa right now. I'm not in the mood to be martyred just yet so I'll save Africa for when my britches are too big. I can fairly easily get an EU passport so that would make things even easier.

So those are my three options. Insight would be appreciated. 

Other than that... all is quiet on the home front. No boys, (no men either... alas) and just coasting right now. Laying out on the grassy coastal beaches and reading, getting sun and intellectual stimulation (even though my book right now is a collection of politically correct bedtime stories -- very, very funny) in very unequal parts.

And I'm spent.

Chapter Two: The Revenge (or something...)

I was fired today.

I no longer have a source of income, I no longer have health insurance, I will likely have an odd break in my resume, and I have nothing to fill my time from when I wake up until when I go to bed.

I'm a little numb right now. But... numb on the side of happy. I feel relieved. I feel like a person's fate is no longer in my hands. I just... I'm relieved.

I'm sure this feeling will evaporate later, but I really don't care. Because at least I feel something.

I've spent the last... month? Two months? Who knows... just not caring. I honestly thought I might have been coming down with depression with all that not caring I've been doing. I wouldn't say I'm particularly enthused, but I'm not panicked, or sad, or angry (or surprised, really).

And I don't know what this will do for my political career in the state, but at this point, I'm not as concerned.

I feel tingly all over.

Roots

I originally started this blog with the intent of writing "open letters" to people. Not anyone specific necessarily, but communities, groups, organizations, what have you. I wrote one to New Jersey once. It was amazingly lame.

I'm feeling generally dissatisfied about life recently. I can't really put a finger on it, but I have a good feeling it's because I'm not doing what I want to be doing. I want to be on stage or in front of a camera, or writing a play or a book. That's what I went to school for.  I spent five years learning about Brecht and Stanislovski and Brooks and MacIvor (it was in Canada, after all). I split my focus between queer theatre and semiotics. I got to work with some of the largest queer playwrights and production companies in Canada, and I wrote papers on how eight blocks of wood painted black are all you need to mount "America Hurrah!" because a box is a chair is a throne is a castle is a kingdom is a tyranny.

I miss it. I want to go back to it. I want to memorize lines and freak out when I drop one. I want to go through the long, agonizing hours of a level set and q-2-q and see the finished product. I want the costume fittings and the breathing exercises and the tongue twisters. A hot cup of coffee in a proper copper coffee pot. She sells sea shells by the sea shore. Lemon face, lion face. Unique New York. Toy boat.

The last show I was in was a modern translation of "The Bacchai" by Colin Teevan. I played Cadmus, the aged King and founder of Thebes, who killed a mighty dragon and sowed its' teeth in the ground, from which the people of Thebes grew. He was a grandfather of Dionysus, god of wine and the theatre.

The first play I did was Shakespeare. I loathe Shakespeare. Mostly because no one ever plays it right. They speak in verse whenever its performed, even at college levels. It's not meant to be spoken in verse! In fact, the only reason I can stand reading or watching any production of Romeo and Juliet is because when I stage managed the show a couple years ago, the director brought everyone together and told us not to take the show seriously. The greatest love story ever told? Hardly! It was two horny teenagers who wanted to bone. Juliet was only fourteen and Romeo was seventeen. HORNY TEENAGERS. That's it!

I'm getting nostalgic.

Eff this noise

Seriously.

Don't get me wrong, I am so impressed and inspired by what my candidate has accomplished and how well she carries herself, but working on a candidate campaign during primary season is complete balls. At least conservatives and Republicans have the chutzpah to back a candidate early. Democrats either don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or are too wishy-washy to actually make a decision on who they want to be their candidate. Take my race, for instance.

There are now four "official" candidates running in this race. There are six names floating around, but one couldn't officially get on the ballot (but is running as a write-in candidate... good luck) and one couldn't qualify for the public funding option available in my state without one of their staffers being charged with fraud. Sucks for him, but great for my team as that's one less person we need to worry about.

So there are four democrats running for this position, and there doesn't seem to be a single democrat in my turf that will just come out and say who they are voting for. Even more frustrating than that is people don't understand the need for volunteers during a primary because most people see it as a warm up lap to the real race.

I have the utmost confidence that my candidate will win the primary. I really do. But my confidence doesn't translate to hard results, so my supervisors get pissed because my deliverables are low and my metrics are completely skewing the rest of the folks in the state.

The other problem is my turf is the base territory for an competing democrat, so most of the activists in the area are already on board with him and I can't pull them away.

I think the most frustrating thing about this whole effort is that the LGBT community here is siding primarily with one candidate because of a skewed sense of their involvement in our marriage equality fight. My candidate had a much bigger hand in the first stage of the campaign, and the other guy showed up to a phonebank or two, shook a few hands and disappeared.

Which leads into ANOTHER fantastic part of democratic primaries -- endless infighting. It should be obvious to everyone that in this kind of political climate, democrats need to stick together and unite or else batshit conservatives are going to take over. Don't misunderstand me... I know that there are conservative democrats and liberal republicans (socially liberal, at least) and I know the democrats, in reality, are simply the lesser of two evils (or three if you want to include the teabaggers) but the dems are more likely than any to further federal LGBT rights, even though they've been doing a crap job so far. Oye.

I do have to say though, both of my Senators are republicans, and they have BOTH signed on as co-sponsors of ENDA, so props to them. I just wish the one who is on the Armed Services Committee would move from tepid support to co-sponsorship of the repeal of DADT, but I know that's too much to ask. As long as she votes to move it out of committee, I think I can deal.

Wow. That was a lot of politics. I feel dirty.

One thing that kind of bugs me about working in field is that so much of it is on the phone, and that's a hassle. I can't ever do work in busy, high-traffic areas where I can just sit with my computer, instead I have to always be in a quiet, secluded space where I get distracted and, what I really meant to write about when I started this, no chance to meet people. I just want to meet people. Not political junkies, just normal people who are smart and funny and who don't really know a lot about one subject, but enough to get by on a lot of different topics. Jack of all trades, as it were. And what I am about to say sounds lame (not in the sentiment, but more in the actual syllables and sounds), but I just want a goddamn boyfriend, damn it. Didn't help that last night this GORGEOUS guy stayed on my couch. He's a friend of my roommate from Utah, 6'5", red hair, well-built, scruffy beard and the sweetest guy. He bought a motorcycle in Boston, flew in to pick it up and now is riding back to Utah on it. He was just so damn attractive.

Problem is, I don't know where gay guys just hang out. I guess that's a plus and a minus about this city... the LGBT community is so well-integrated that there isn't really a gayborhood where all the queers hang out. The only identifiable location are the gay bars, and at that point everyone is just drunk and horny.

Aaaaaaand it's come to the point where this post got sufficiently whiny, so I think that's where I stop.

Oh, as a side note, I'm changing my name. I don't know to what, but it will change.

So, taking a vast departure from my last post, I have this thought.

On hulu, there's a car commercial with two different lines that just... I just don't think they should be in a commercial. One is "thanks to all the 5,000 tests that..." something about making it a safe car. To which I thought, isn't that just like saying "thanks, me! I did a great job!" which I understand is the point of a commercial, to sell your product, but it was just... eugh. And then they say that JD Power and Associates ranked them first in initial quality. Initial quality. So you know it's worth a lot initially but that shit depreciates fast.

This is also the post where, apparently, I have rediscovered html?

And tomorrow is the Day of Silence. Juxtaposed with the Day of Truth. Both are equally effective in bringing attention to an issue that is being ignored. Each in their different way... one is trying to confront it and solve it, one is trying to hide it and pretend like nothing is wrong, and that it's completely okay for LGBTQ youth to be bullied. That it's okay for teachers and administrators to allow this, to let kids beat up on other kids, to let them taunt them because they're different, and to actively say that there is something wrong and perverse with a kid. It's just disgusting.

I am so sick of this. I'm sick of being sick and not being able to know what it is, I'm sick of not having any money, I'm sick of having such a low image of myself, I'm sick of trying to enjoy my job when I just... hate it. I hate organizing now, and I don't know why. It's just so draining and I don't have the energy to do it anymore. I'm sick of my car breaking down all the time, I'm sick of being goddamn single, I'm sick of going online to hook up with older guys who find some thrill in being able to fuck someone half their age just so I can feel like I'm attractive. I am so. fucking. sick of it.

Tell me what you think about your situation

I am getting fucking fired up. Three stories came up today that make me want to shout and scream and just punch people in their goddamn faces.

Portland Catholic Diocese pulls funding from homeless shelter after said shelter supported marriage equality. (Portland Press Herald)

18-year-old gay student in Georgia who got the okay to bring his boyfriend to prom has been kicked out of his own home. (macon.com)

Senator from Utah proposes amendment to HCR bill that would suspend same-sex marriage in DC until people can vote on the issue. (DC Wire)

So I think I know why I freaked out, lied and said I had a boyfriend to the amazing cute guy who hit on me at the bar. It's because after that I starting thinking about hooking up with him. And then hooking up with other guys. And then thinking about how one of those hook-up could possibly hold the potential for a relationship. And then thinking about how it's been so long since I've had a boyfriend that I would probably suck at being one, and how I really, really want one. I was driving with my roommate today and he mentioned how wanting a boyfriend and a relationship was weird and needy. I absolutely disagree, but I didn't really feel like getting heckled by him so I said nothing. And I know that he wants one too, he's just too blind to realize that he has something great right in front of him (who he's actually out to dinner with right now...) but instead keeps falling back in line with the same abusive alcoholic moron that keeps pulling him down.

If this guy can have two (or more) potential people to date, why the fuck can't I find one? I don't particularly like the bar scene here, since it seems everyone has already fucked everyone else (or fucked someone who did), and going online just seems... weird. I mean, what kind of people are so socially inept that they have to go online to find potential mates? Oh... right.

It's so fucking frustrating that it just makes me want to go back to craigslist to find random hookups and hide in being used.

What the FUCK is wrong with it

And by it I mean me.

Tonight I was at a bar, and it was fun. We were playing pool and all was great. I went to the bar to get a drink for my friend and a glass of water for myself. This really, really cute guy started talking to me, asking me if I had a boyfriend. I panicked. I said I did and that he was out of town, a flat-out lie.

I don't know why I can so easily hook up with men on the internet but when it comes to in-person, I freeze and have panic attacks. I actually had to leave the bar and sit in my car for a few minutes before i could go back inside. It was a bad, bad situation and only made me feel worse about myself. My roommate tells me that I am a great guy, a really cute guy, who deserves better. But I have this tendency to self-destruct.

I know where this insecurity comes from, but I do not know how to overcome it. I just don't and I can't figure out why. Maybe I should see a professional about it because at this point it is seriously crippling me and my social life. I haven't had a boyfriend in YEARS and part of that is because a large part of me finds that level of intimacy really terrifying.

While in the car, I called the savage lovecast hotline. I wonder if Dan will get back to me. We'll see.

Drunk again!

WATCH OUT. I am DANGEROUS in this state.

I am in one of those "I LOVE EVERYONE" drunk states, which tend to depress me, since when I awake from said drunk state, I realize most people are complete dicks.

At this point I could care less.

Sometimes... most of the time... I wish I could be one of those people who can make a semi-accurate statement about the human condition in 6 to 10 words. Then I realize most of the people who were able to do that are now dead.

Oh, and that maybe the human condition wasn't meant to be described in 10 words or less (or 100, or 1,000) and that it is ongoing!

And once again, I realize I am not the first person to discover said epiphany,

But I know I'm in good company, and that makes me happy.

I feel the need to qualify my statement earlier, re: people and their dick-ness.

There are many dickish people in this world, yet I feel it's safe to assume there are an equal number of non-dickish people as well, they just don't realize it or haven't found a venue in which to realize their non-dickishnes. Not a word. Let's roll with it anyways,

Time for sleep!

PS - Though born and bred American, I was totally cheering for Canada during the Olympic Hockey Finals. OH CANADA!!

PPS - If you haven't done a google image search for Sidney Crosby, DO IT NOW.