Ahh. I have been lax the past few weeks in doing any kind of blogging, vlogging, or any “social media upkeep/updating” and I must say I have not missed it. I have, however, been quite productive musically!
There is a weirdness to continually turning “outward” for a bunch of strangers in my interaction with the online world; giving them info on what I’m thinking, feeling, and experiencing. Well there is also the excitement of my m4M massage stories (no real names are ever used)—which there hasn’t been any for the past 3 weeks). LOL. Other than that
I live a pretty tame life. Although, considering “the state” of contemporary New York living (and the very very sad state of the online “Kardashian based-influencer” type postings, i.e. all consumer-based—I would consider my M4M massage stories pretty damn interesting. Of course, who am I? No one! Only the damn last of the queer dinosaurs! LOL. Queer elder wisdom--HELLO?
The greatest revelation this trip has been that I must change my living circumstances! The building which I called home for so many years and which was a safe, comfortable and affordable space, has now turned against me in a very toxic way and I must flee. I was basically crying to God on the water today begging him for a direction. And--yes--a Happy Ending to my time on East 6 Street. Amen.
Thank you, Higher Power, for pointing this out to me on this trip. That was the whole purpose I guess, besides of course feeling tree beauty, reconnecting with children and families, and the ocean itself. It's been great getting away from the continuous M4M massage “feed” scene...that scene which I alternatively love and hate, miss and loathe; fear and nourish! LOL.
Just a note on the sheer insidiousness of Joe Kennedy having a lobotomy done on Rose, his daughter, turning her from a vivacious, outspoken beauty into an invalid and then storing her away in some “home” in Wisconsin, basically casting her into the trash...out of site and out of mind. Gosh, if some souls could only tell their stories...talk about toxic fatherhood!
Then there’s the story of Frances Farmer. How interesting to note she never did have a lobotomy! See all the past and the thousands of hurt souls in their struggles and now we proclaim Mental illness to be the latest fashionable cause célèbre Oy.
Spent the day kayaking, drinking beer and talking to the reeds, marshes and seabirds on a lovely pond in Carver, MA. Oh what a peaceful and lovely sanctuary. Nature in its original state-not the roadkill rat-riven streets of NYC. By the way, did you know there are no rats in San Juan? Because of all the wild cats who live there. I fear 99% of the wild cats are gone from Manhattan, more victims of the march of mad NYU real estate development gone amuck (and the sex-less students "NY Eunuchs" who proliferate downtown. More Oye.
Now the anxiety is already gripping me for my return to “The Big Asshole.” My cat care girlfriend reported that I had received a bill from NYC HSS for $800 and some dollars. Could it be they are asking me for money back? Why poke and torture at the working poor? Why don’t they contact the big, fat cats who continue to build real estate and gentrify NYC until the virtual hallow-soullessness of this place stinks to high heaven? Aye despoje!
Gosh, what a waking dream I had this morning! I was head over heels in love with a younger bi-racial man (more of a boy really, but he was of age). What a treat I felt to care for someone. I so longed to stay in bed and just savor all the elements of this “vision” from my subconscious mind which seemed all too real. To experience his innocence...Oh that wonderful feeling to be in love and to care for boy. Alas, it was only a dream. But even for a few moments, I seemed to have a purpose in life.
Lord knows a man cannot live his life for another man. But isn’t it delicious to even imagine (though if only to feel the feelings from a waking dream) that because you care for someone, that your life has more of a purpose? Foolish! Fool’s gold. Co-dependency. Later on I recall this dream persona can probably be traced to a dude I met back around 2010. He was a masseur. Light-skinned black. Younger. There were so many red-lights. He couldn't give me a straight answer about what he did with all the male clients in his so-called "bodywork." Thank God I’m smart enough to not be taken in by another hot male’s conniving!
Con man, con man,
Oh, this world's vicious place,
Don’t I know first hand?
That doesn’t keep me from being grateful as all hell. It just makes me grow a really, really thick skin to cover my muscles, brain, and heart! A boundary for the vampires to try to bite through--yay though they will break their teeth.
Hey read my novel if you want some weird insights into my life! I dare you.
More to come as I re-enter the city on Wed. and keep trudging along in my postings. Feel free to subscribe and/or comment. No haters, please. If you’re into micro-violence, take a kick-boxing class or talk to a therapist. Don’t vent here. I can. It's my blog. You can't.
And, a reminder, last year a client who goes by the handle of “Mark Squared” on Rentmasseur (under “members seeking massage”) stole a one-hour Outcall massage from me. He didn’t pay claiming he’d lost his bank card or some sorry excuse. I don’t recall now. However I do recall he promised to pay and never followed through. This man lives in Queens (or did last year) is a transplant from the West coast (LA), involved in some sort to high-tech start-ups; and is a youngish 40’s something, good looking and light-skinned East Indian type. Also he speaks excellent English, with no accent. BEWARE he is a fraud, a liar, and a thief!