A blog of creative and thoughtful writing. Author information at bottom of page. NOW WITH PICTURES

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Tears Like Rain

Tears have been like rain enough—
Like diamonds, rivers, stars—
So much
That I can’t help
Question the pain
That made a poet say
Tears are Rain.

What was the trigger
That once produced
What was the wrong that reduced
A wordsmith to rain?

My tears are bees,
stinging in my eyes;
They’re poison, scorching;
Knives, carving.

My heart
Complains of tears
like water,
But it’s wrong.
I've learned
Eyes are subtle volcanoes
beside the nose;
Tears are magma,
That while eyes tear,
They’re tearing
Down your cheeks—
with pain begot
from pain.

I think, though,
I forgot those
Tears that are
“like rain.”
they are the same,
But rather rain is more like crying:
Our pain is fluid;
our happy, dying;
Yet through the sad,
I think—I know—
That when they’re gone,
I grow.

Four Years Later: Gay

I am gay. As I've mentioned before, this is due to my sexual attraction to men. I just have zero desire to be with women in that manner. I'm afraid it may be because of the type of respect I have for them.

       Well, in the spirit of things changing over time.... I no longer consider myself gay. Sure, I still find more of an attraction toward men, but I've noticed that the attraction is actually still there for women as well...just not as often. I still have a lot of respect for women, and feminism has been the name of my game for the longest time now, but I'm still very awkward when it comes to approaching women.

Now onwards! Did I choose to be gay? NO. Did I choose to be honest to myself and others about it? yes. I came out during my senior year in High School. Most people didn't expect it. Some were hurt. most got over it. Yes, my parent's know. most of my family knows. My father's mother does NOT know, and frankly, I'd rather keep it that way. I think she would be happier NOT knowing, and as bad as it sounds, I think she will live easier if she dies without ever finding out.

        I think that my grandmother now has some sort of a clue about me, but I still haven't personally told her. I realize now that I've dug myself into a terrible hole, and that I should've come out to her with the rest of them. I want her to know, but I don't even know how to approach doing that. 

Some people think that being gay is a choice. It is not. I know first hand. If I had the option to be straight, I would be. I have surprised people before when I tell them that I hate being gay. Truth of the matter is, gay people don't get a lot of respect. I go to an entirely too-homophobic school where I have been threatened both directly and indirectly, have been pushed and spit at, been insulted almost daily, and have been vandalized.

        I don't know if I can even imagine where I would be in life now, if I was straight. I mean I have come to terms with whatever sexuality I seem to be, and I never allow that part of me to become an oppressive identifying in who I am, but there's no denying that it is a big part of who I am now. My sexuality has driven me politically and pushed me into being a better person so that I can serve as a good model for my apparent demographic. Also, every problem that I have ever encountered as a result of my sexuality has given me perspective and helped me grow and write. So, there are benefits, I suppose.


I would much rather be straight. To be accepted. To be able to be everything I SHOULD be for the girl I love (see blog post titled "Love"). I was raised for 17 years thinking that the feelings I have for men made me an abomination, and that no matter what I do, I would forever suffer for something I couldn't control. When I finally came into my self-realization, I decided to take control of my life. I decided to stop lying to myself and to others about who I am.

        I'm still in love, but it's no longer with a specific person, or with any specific thing. I love myself. I love life. I love the world. I love the concept of freedom and choice. I love love itself! I wish there was a person in my life to call my own, sure, but I'm sure that person will come along in his or her own time.

It is a curse.
That is how I felt.

        Yeah, still not a choice. There is a choice, however, in how we handle dealing with our sexuality. I don't think that there is any singular way that we can handle the issues that people have with guys like me, but at the same time, I still don't see why sexuality should be an issue anyway.

I still feel like my life would be easier if I was straight. But it's not like i will ever have that option. AND if someone was ever to create a 'cure' for homosexuality, I wouldn't take it. For the first time in my life, I'm truly happy with who I am. Granted, I still hate myself every now-and-then, but at least I am honest with myself.

        I doubt my life would be any easier if I was straight, and I'm very sorry to say that I hate myself more now than I ever did before. Despite getting my life in a more conducive order, there are still so many elements out of my control, and they are problems that cause me more stress and worry than anything else I could possibly imagine having to handle. I am, however, still honest with myself, so there's that.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

I Break Up With My Girlfriend After Work One Night Without Telling Her About My Terminal Condition

A dank, moist night. I’m on the way home, trekking through smog or fog, past the park and dog shit that the plastic bags missed. Pissed that she didn’t answer my call again, and again she sent me to voicemail. Fog so thick it feels gooey--like phlegm that you can’t quite cough up: you get the gist. Stop in the park 'cause the mucous mist night got me breathing too hard on my jog. I fidget on the bench, pickin’ pimples till I feel the pus between my fingers burst and drain. A rustle in a bush behind me. I jump afraid, but it’s just a skunk. My mind jumped quick to the stank of the skunk, so I jumped back quick so he don’t spray me. He got a streak of white down his back like Trace, in her straight black hair, like that x-man Rogue, but from the movie not the comic ('cause I ain’t that nerdy). Back on the walk  and thought I’d drop by her place since I gotta pass it anyway. Feels worse now like growing mold if I stand still too long. I call her again to check she’s home and she picks up. “Hello?” Hey Trace, it’s me, thought I’d come and say hey and yell at you for ignoring me and maybe hit you around a bit. 

But I don’t say that. I wouldn’t do that. 

Instead, “I’m passing your place can we chat?” And I knock and you come out, face caked with makeup breath reeking like skunk secretion or vodka or jack or whatever you been drinkin. It’s fine it’s over though. That’s what you wanna say right? I don’t think you’re gonna ask me to stay for pork and beans or whatever Chuck the cock-block cheater made for you this mold-moist smoggy night. You’re drunk. Good night. I walk away and delete your digits, but save the pics you sent last night. Gross dank night and a soggy walk home. Get back to the dark apartment no one home except for me. They’re all out at a party or bar except for me. I’m here cutting up a loaf of moldy month-old bread. Why worry about sickness, though, with a tumor in my head? In a month or two I’m dead and they’re out partying and I’m here with my bread and bottom shelf booze in the end.

Drunk Thoughts On Love On A Winter Night

I’d just pounded back
A double and coke
When you asked me how I felt about love.
I was uncomfortably tipsy;
You were already drunk—
You spoke with a slur—
And weighed against me on the couch.
I poured another drink
When you asked me again,
But I couldn’t answer just there and then,
Because I didn’t know.
I didn’t know then
How I felt about love
Or even if I felt Love.
I didn’t know love until many years later—
You asked me once again
In memory how I felt
But I still couldn’t answer
Because you’re no longer here.

I remember that night, though,
At my now-ex-boyfriend’s party
In his slummy urban shack.
We spent the night
Losing ourselves to the night’s ice grace.
Remember when the snow fell
So hard on the tarmac
We moved inside from the fire
We’d set in the rusty trash can?
Remember that busted couch
Where we first traded names?
You laughed at mine for being
Too old for a younger guy.
I remember.
I remember you thought
You were too old for a younger guy like me—
I said I didn’t think
You were.

How did I feel about love
That first night?
I wondered then if I was too young.
I was in school, after all,
And there was distance
In both space and mind.
But maybe I was making excuses.
With your warmth beside me
The warmth of rum inside me,
We dozed and slumped together,
Your gelled hair crunched in my hands.
You fell asleep and left me
To think,
To feel,
And wonder
Whether love is real,
Whether what I felt was love,
And whether that was true.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Four Years Later: Alcohol and Drugs

I refuse to drink. I made that vow an incredibly long time ago, and I stick by it. Growing up, I've been around alcohol my whole life. I've seen the way it corrupts people and changes them, and I don't like it. Both of my parents are at the very least borderline alcoholics, but I suspect it could be considered full-fledged. It's gotten to the point where they drink and one can barely notice a change in the way they act. I don't want to be like my parents. I never have. I'm afraid that if I were to consume alcohol, I might get addicted, like them.
I remember the fear that I once had about drinking. My parents are still basically at the same point in their life, and unfortunately, even though all of their kids are now of college age, it still has a major effect on our lives. I know now that my fear came from experiencing my  parents, but I also now realize that my judgment on the use of alcohol reflected only my knowledge based on my family. I broke the oath that I made not even a year after originally writing this post. I was in a bad way, and a good friend offered me a drink, so I took it. Rum. It wasn't bad. It made me feel warm inside, and it didn't have any negative side effects. Soon after the first realization that it wasn't completely bad, I kept occasionally trying alcohol in small quantities. A little vodka with my roommate and a friend. An occasional beer. I found drinks I liked and those I didn't, and I realized that in moderation, there was nothing wrong with alcohol at all.
Why would I drink, anyway? I don't see any good reason to. It wouldn't make me happy. I don't want to forget anything. It could only cause me trouble. Sure, I go to a school where alcohol is pretty much the main feature, but I'm not going to be tempted to drink. Frankly, I'm pretty sure I'm more fun sober than most people I know drunk.
Drinking makes me happy when I'm in a social atmosphere. I've also found that drinking makes me feel good when I am upset. I enjoy getting drunk be it helps me escape this horribly overwhelming sense of responsibility I have. I'm not at H-SC anymore, and I don't socialize at Hollins because I'm only ever there twice a week, so I don't get to drink often. I do enjoy it, though. And it still hasn't caused trouble.
This post is seeming like more of a rant, but whatever. I just wont drink. Don't make fun of me for it. Don't try to pressure me to drink.
Drugs, I likewise refuse to touch. Why waste my life with them? I don't need something to make me happy or alter my thoughts. There have been times where I thought that might be easier, but not anymore. I have never tried any illegal drug. I've never had alcohol. This doesn't mean I don't try new things, it just means I don't like doing stupid things to my body.
I still feel the same way about drugs, but I'm also more lenient on my judgment of them. After all, if my opinion on alcohol changed so dramatically, couldn't my opinion on drugs? I actually support the legalization of marijuana right now, despite the fact that I don't want to try it, and I've often found myself considering what it would be like to use perception-altering drugs, but I still believe it would be a bad idea to try them.
One last thing, I don't really like being around people when they drink or use drugs. I don't care if you do it, though I'd prefer you didn't. Just don't do it around me. I think that's it. TTYL.
Here I am, talking to you later. My impressions have changed, as impressions are likely to do over time, and I am a different man than I was four years ago. I no longer mind being around people who are drinking, but I still prefer to avoid drug use. I do think that I am more open-minded now than I used to be, and I think that that is certainly something to behold.