For Your Consideration

A few days ago, I was directed to a blog by a new writer. It was everything I 'wish' I could put on a page, but don't. The raw honesty, the fears, the self-doubt, the good and the bad: We ALL have these arguments with ourselves, but its not easy to put that on a page. Someone has. It's compelling.
I don't know if this person will continue to blog, or if he will delete what he posted. So, because I feel with such conviction that his words are made available. And here is the link and the post to what I think is The Best Damn Blog On PNP You May Not Want to Read

 http://anotherchance2scewup.blogspot.com/

How do you do?

So lets get to the heart of things, shall we.  I am a middle aged gay man living somewhere in the wilds of the North East of the good old USA.  I started getting high and having sex at 20, and some 20 years later, are doing the same thing, different drugs, but with sex just the same.  I am not and will never be a person that shuns drug use, because I am fully aware that there are people who can moderate and temper their use so that they can lead a mostly "normal" life of home, cars, vacation, and disposable income....I am not one of those people.

My abuse of drugs has fairly ruined my life.  Most of any spare cash I ever had went to purchasing drugs. I have lost four jobs all due to drug use as I often go on days long "runs" and blow off work without calling out.

I had a horrible time in high school so the idea of going to college was out of the question.  My parents were terrible at parenting (Apathetic verbally abusive mother, and a limp father, they divorced when I was 18 months old), and that led to me being something of a cowardly sheep with pretty much zero self confidence and a budding anti social behavioral issue.   My idea of fun is being as offensive and inappropriate as possible under the guise of humor.

As a gay man my taste is and has always been body builders.  Physically I am a mess.   The idea of stepping into a gym generates a fear and anxiety in me that is very hard to explain, but its paralyzing and lends to my already low self confidence as I have a visible paunch and virtually no muscle.  Not exactly what a body builder is going to swoon over to say the least.

So what is my purpose here?  I recently read another blog written by a man I met on a webcam site.  In his blog he combines current issues and relates them to his own drug use and experiences, and I was inspired to try and write one of my own.

The truth is my life is so fucked up I am terrified about what is going to happen to me.  I may be weak, amoral, and terribly misguided, but I know that there is a good person in here somewhere, and I hope that somehow this will help me get a grip.  Also, if there is someone out there on a precipice of destruction due to their own use issues, that maybe this will help pull them back just a little.

I have been on a long stretch of unemployment and I have an interview this afternoon.

Lets see how it all goes....shall we.


What greater wisdom in the simple phrase, 'let's see how it all goes'. Brilliant.
I encourage him to continue writing, because his voice is much more relevant that my dressed up Meth-ro-Goldwyn-Mayer screenplays could ever hope to be.

Mr. Nice Guy

It's starting to sink in that Mr. Big Woods of Wisconsin's (aka Woodsy) attention has been captured...alas not by yours truly.

On Valentine's Day, after we sent the most awful texts to each other, I called him...mainly because he texted me not to text, then kept on texting.

I apologized, and as we were hanging up the call, he apologized..as in 'I'm sorry.'
And how did I react, seeing as how I didn't expect those words?
By stomping my feet, throwing a pillow across the room (all vases and porcelain knick knacks were thrown and shattered long ago)...and bursting into tears.
Sigh.

We were on the phone talking the other night, and I heard a voice in the background. "Where are you?" I demanded....sounding every bit NOT like I wanted to sound.

"I'm at Norman's. Mr. Nice Guy, remember"
"Put him on the phone." I demanded (again)
"Hello!" says this very calm cool and collected Midwestern voice.
"I can be your best friend or your worst nightmare" I said.
(I really say crap like this too. And mean it.)

Norman Nicely,, who was just as laid back as Woodsy and I are high-strung, didn't flinch, and thank goodness he didn't laugh...I'd have cried. He was articulate and we talked for a few minutes.  He had impeccable manners, yet wasn't patronizing. I quickly dropped my 'glamorous and talented personality who lives among the stars' malarkey.

So that was that. Attaching a human personality (Mr. Nice Guy himself) to an idea (a threat with no identity) was all that I needed. I can't even be jealous.

Darn it.

Atlantis, Lemuria, Drums PA?

My delivery--food that is--- had arrived when last I blogged.

That cheeseburger was hot, thick and tasty and so was the man who brought it to me. Breakfast the following morning: scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, yogurt, a gallon of milk and a quart of iced tea also was quite possibly the best conversation I've had in many moons.

No one seems to understand that for me, conversation and the need to feel like my presence is valued is the Holy Grail for me. Sex is great, but not when I'm regarded as an appliance. And that's all I'm going to say on the subject. Oh, other than I learned Aloe Vera Juice, which you can buy in bottles at a grocery store, and when mixed with something palatable like orange, cranberry or pomegranate juice, is a great recovery drink. Then, there are those who disagree.

It's been awhile since I looked for a site that has a lot of helpful or at least, information that makes you think. There are many fine sites out there. Today I just wanted to focus on one category and I found it by going to the self-named 'Anti-Meth' site: KCI.org. It's listed on this page as well. I am still trying to learn what KCI stands for: the website owner is in a small town called Drums, Pennsylvania and was created by a man named Darrell.

I can't fault anyone having an opinion, and some of the words used on KCI are a bit dramatic. But no more so than a 'pro-meth' site would be with the 'Fuck yeah' mantra.  But, you want to know the nitty gritty of how meth is made, how much it costs per average, and what best practices people used to manage their habit or quit altogether? It's there.  There's even a chat room ....now don't be getting any 'Occupy' ideas. Be nice. It's hard to tell how active the site is..some of the messages in the forums were last posted in 2008.

And I stumbled upon a blog...very well written but the last post was in December 2010. It's called 'Tweekerland' , written by a former meth user named 'Penelope'. I suggest you peruse it. You'll find addiction is never black or white, but 10,000 shades of grey. You already knew that, of course. But it helps to see it through another life.

At times I feel like an explorer happening upon a civilization that was wiped out....you know, like in Forbidden Planet. Or that I'm toggling between parallel time bands.

A world of contradictions. A world of gray. It's just all so confusing at times. So very damn confusing.

Tag! You're the Host

Can you host?
Prefer 2 Host
Must Travel
Can't Travel

In the top five  of real time negotiation points, the question of who comes to who's house ranks high. Often, it's a deal-breaker. As someone who has the Room and a View, and likes people, or used to, I have hosted, hosted often, and hosted well. Perhaps too well, because my last few guests have apparently confused me with the W Hotel over @ Hollywood & Vine.
They came with nothing and offered nothing (except the opportunity for me to fuck them....as if there's a shortage of holes in Los Angeles to fill.  You might think I'd be appreciated for providing if nothing else, a place to play. Hardee har har.

One had the audacity to look around my place and, without skipping a beat said:
"Will your building's management be restoring this unit to its original splendor?"
He didn't mean that 'unit' either. I almost wish he had.

Another, taking in a cyber tour of my accommodations via Skype, asked, aghast,
"Are you in a guest room? That looks like my grandmother decorated it!"

I replied, "If you do visit, I'll be fucking you on top of my dining room table. The bedrooms are an earned privilege."  (or they were, before I rented out one to my tenant, which usually limits me to my quarters)

Yes, I really do say this stuff, and I really do mean it. And I host a lot less than I used to. And, having taken 'inventory' today, and finding that my 'real' jockstrap, the formerly white one, is gone, along with one gold and one green jelly cock ring, one half of a set of nipple suction cups, a blue kerchief,  two bungee cords, and a Chinese Dragon like you see in parades. Unrelated, but add to this two pairs of 501's (size 31/30) that i just bought that vanished from my laundry last night. Perhaps I should invest in monogrammed robes, ashtrays and matchbooks.

Oh, and if anyone hooks up with a little white guy in the greater Alhambra/Temple City area of Los Angeles County, perhaps you can retrieve the snap-on leather strap and cock ring component to my harness. E-mail me for details, it's not as crazy as it sounds. I am though.

To be continued, as I have a guest downstairs to collect. He's a sweet, handsome, intelligent and hilarious man and he's brought me a double cheeseburger, onion rings and a giant Sweet Iced Tea. Now that's impressive.

Didn't We Almost (Wish We Didn't)Have it All?

Whitney Houston's passing has been a tough one but also a time to reflect about my own choices, my life and my mortality. It also gave me the kick to do some research. My opinion of the media dropped by the hour (don't ask my opinion of the human race after sampling some online comments), and I've stopped reading the updates. The news that her daughter collapsed took me right back to 1975 and my own mother's death. I didn't 'collapse' to my knowledge, but I have an idea of how Bobbi Kristina must feel and my heart goes out to her. And kudos to Anderson Cooper and Janet Jackson's view of the word 'closure'.
 
As it was the weekend Princess Diana died, I saw the news on the internet, and went into 'stunned' mode. I remember I talked via phone a long time to an old friend and discussed my challenges with staying sober. For high dramatic purposes, the timing of Whitney's death, the Grammy's, and the Academy Awards coming up, it was a perfect storm. And, industry town that Los Angeles is, walking around the neighborhood you could just sense the collective sadness and you sure as hell could 'smell fear' in the air. I bet the sewers were filled with a lot of expensive substances flushed away last weekend.

I remember watching Whitney's early music videos at JR.'s in Dallas. There was nothing quite like her. I assumed she was at least 10 years younger..meaning that 1986 Diet Coke commercial was made when she was 14. In fact she was just 9 months younger than oh-so-pretentious-make that-sophisticated  me.

This bull-shit trip down the nostalgia trail ends NOW. The white elephant is, for me: Am I going to die like 'that'? And, no, I don't mean in the tub of a suite at the Beverly Hilton.

As I struggle with my own issues, addictions and bored bad-boy-behavior, I know too well how very grey these areas are. 'These areas' are: when does substance use/abuse become too much? Will I be so lucky to just 'wear out' and pass in my sleep? Or under 'mysterious circumstances' that will bring pain, speculation and rude comments to those who love and care for me? I mean, the dead get to miss all that. I get very angry at those who toss the word 'druggie' about, as if they've never rushed to a doctor at the first sniffle of a cold or an imagined pain in their ass.. In my opinion, anyone who sees a doctor and is given a prescription is as much a 'druggie' as someone buying pills under a streetlight on Skid Row. That's where I agree with Tony Bennett on legalizing all drugs.


My hope is the autopsy and subsequent toxicology reports will conclude that Whitney Houston simply 'wore out'. That may be wishful and 'look the other way' thinking on my part. I don't think she'd be one to be pitied, and this may surprise many of you non-Hollywood types, but fame, fortune, and having it 'all' can sometimes be a curse of the worst kind.

The blessing in this has been I've been looking at on line programs targeting procrastination...a subject which I need to stop procrastinating about. Because all the 'stuff' I see in the mirror are the symptoms of something buried deep and long ago.

Back in 1986 at JR's, watching Whitney on MTV,  I wished and wished for an exciting life. I didn't expect that would include mourning that talented, and yes, troubled woman's death so soon.

Live from the New ICU2:

I often say it was ICU2 that  got me into this entire party scene. Yet over time, the little country club set that I'd see regularly and carouse with. But like all good things, people moved on to Skype, Oovoo and all the other zillion sites that offered video chat.
 

Then in a attempt to compete I suppose,  ICU2, based in my home state of Texas, abruptly changed their format. This threw most members into a panic. Speaking only for my friends and I: try learning a new video chat system when you're higher than the highest mountain. I abandoned the wild and woolly chat rooms for the trivia game....where I did quite well.

As time went on, I let ICU2  fall to the wayside, until last night, when a friend suggested I check it out. No longer a cumbersome (but beloved) program that only worked on the computer you downloaded it on, this new ICU is web-based, and appeared to be doing a brisk business. So much so that the system kept crashing.

Aside from one rotten apple who was incensed I didn't know the sequence of ICU upgrades( this for the record is v. 9-that's NINE), the crowd was fun, but not much activity was going on. It was like open house night at a new time share.


I liked the new concept enough that I bought a one month membership, and will continue to see how it plays.

And He Seemed So Well Adjusted

This, from a website I happened upon:

'Crystal Meth side effects include behavioral problems, paranoia, and psychosis. These problems are experienced most often by users who have a predisposition to mental illness. The user's mood can become unpredictable. Mood swings, suspicion, anger, and depression are frequent side effects for those who abuse the drug regularly. Their relationships and general social interactions are negatively affected as well.'

Trust me, I don't feel any more relieved at that 'predisposition to mental illness' phrase above.

I was on Skype with a handsome, fun guy I've not cammed with that often, because he doesn't cam regularly, and I've reduced my on-air time.

And things were moving along spinningly, when all of a sudden he goes into this monologue about how his computer had been hacked by previous playpals and...well it's a familiar plot device for many of us.

And, I being the dumb cluck I am, spent 2 hours after this trying to a) talk him down out of the tree he was in and b) walk him through his computer to show him the problem was NOT with his set.

And finally, I had to close the call. I felt like I was stuck in a loop.

Back to Basics

I didn't plan to wait so long between posts: but life has a habit of getting in the way. I used to dismiss 'writer's block' as an excuse for just not being motivated, but now that I've experienced it and am experiencing it, no more of that talk. It's another lesson in being non-judgmental and letting one's stupid ego think it is in charge.

In my cyber travels, I wear many hats: IT trainer, help desk and troubleshooter, Adviser to the lovelorn, and EMT. I've had all of those hats on recently. I also have been asking myself: 'why do you blog?'

It's not just about my crazy experiences or my roller coaster romances or romps in the hay. It's also a chance for me to review where I've tripped, stumbled, and more often, fell flat on my face.

Managing addictions aren't easy: whether that addiction is alcohol, gambling, overeating, substance abuse, or an addiction to 12-step meetings. At one time, I thought everyone who called for help was really seeking a way out. I nearly destroyed myself trying to help them, before slapping myself in the head and going 'You can't help anyone if you don't help yourself first.' I don't necessarily like being hard-assed but circumstances have sort of moved me to a different attitude.

(but in my case, the line would be 'DON'T take me down with you'

Here's a few statements that worked for me that I needed to remind myself about:

-Each day is a chance to start anew. Yesterday is the past, tomorrow is not guaranteed.

-Don't buy into the media hype on your addiction. It's effect on you is unique to your own system. Avoid reading 'worst case scenarios'. Likewise, don't buy into the myth that everything is fine and dandy.

-Only you can manage your addiction. There are many tools and organizations available, but when the night falls, you are left with you. And 'you' is your strongest asset. Don't be afraid to ask for help. If you are shunned by those you love, perhaps they didn't love you in the way you wanted. Don't blame them, but look for those who will respect your sobriety as much as they 'get happy' alongside you.

-With regards to party-specfic addictions: here's a few tips:

-Sleep is your best recovery tool. 
-Hydration: whether its good old tap water or electrolyte infused liquids are mandatory
-If you haven't been eating: salads are easy on the system: however, try to keep healthy 'small plates' around: nuts, veggies..CLIF bars.
-Epsom salt baths post-play are great to draw toxins from your body. A hot bath relaxes one too.
-Don't beat yourself up if you over do. But try to learn the lesson for next time.
-Remember no one is perfect. Be kind to others when on cam in particular, or one night you'll find perhaps no one wants to talk to you. It's a small world.


and merrily we march on...