The view outside my window circa 7:30 AM. Makes me feel high just staring at all the trees--not the concrete walls of the building next door in my East Village Man Cave. So nice to be away. Marshfield, MA is very, very straight. I see neither hide nor hair of other queer men, though a friend insists they are here. Somewhere. Well, he's also a functioning alcoholic.
I'm grateful to get away, though another resident of this house where I'm staying is a single Mom with lots of anger issues. She's a beautiful, sparkly, lovely woman and keeps close tabs on her child. But her propensity to vent and quite literally "chew off your ear" going on and on about her issues is quite sickening to say the least. I don't like being a straight women's punching bag. The next time she goes off I'm just going to have to excuse myself and leave her to fume and fuss by herself; replete with a tumbler full of vodka to wash down her Ativan. It's funny, dealing with women my whole life (I used to fuck them and wouldn't mind a toss in the hay with "C") have found that no matter WHAT you say if they have a bug up their ass, 99% of the time they just keep on going round and round obsessing, kind of like a rat chasing its tail, no matter what you say. I'm done being anybody's therapist. Life's too short, especially now.
So I'm not working -- doing massage -- and it's nice to get away, and NOT be doing massage! Of course I'm horny but a release is just a my own handshake away.
I'm reading a fabulous book called "Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life" by Hollis; so instead of writing any short stories I'm basically doing a kind of self-inventory, not necessarily a "Moral Inventory" but something like that. Currently doing a three day break from my current booze fav. IPA beer too. My moral compass is skewed, but I still have a sense of boundaries, thank you very much. COVID has definitely pushed to new acts of desperation. The question is, are these acts really necessary or just a dramatic symptom of the times bringing out further drama in me? Or is this just more of me acting like my Mother did during the Great Depression? I was infected by a client last year around March 2020 and still I have antibodies. I haven't told him. I have two friends who swear COVID doesn't exist, it's all a plot to control us, no one's died, etc. Another friend, one "Tall Tom " who does massage in New Orleans--whom I quite enjoyed via our phone friendship until I just had to take a break from his constant hating and his "whoreishly small minded lifestyle"(workaholism PLUS the aging sex worker syndrome can easily become a toxic mix when you lack balance in life). His negative diatribes about wearing a mask were too much for me to bear, much like Lady C nagging and venting on and on about her money problems. Yo--THE DOCTOR IS NOT IN BEAATCHES! LOL.
Continually on my mind is my plan for leaving New York--or staying if I can change my current living habitat. Can I? Do I want to? Major questions. New York has my back in many ways. And the overall intolerance of straight people for having a neighbor who does M4M massage is non-existent to say the least. Whereas in the city usually people are cool and mind their own business, except for that chronic asshole neighbor (like a bullying, abusive Daddy) who wants to sue the you, and then the world in that order, while summering at his house in Hamptons no less. Why is it that the rich tend to be the biggest, more neurotic fuckers?
Anyway the main topic of the Hollis book is how can we "serve our Soul" (aka Psyche or Self in Jungian terms) in the second half of our lives? How can we serve our Soul, instead of living for our parents, or living a life that involves trying to prove something or resolve some issue programed into us by our economic state or by society? The process of individuation is what Hollis calls it, again borrowed from Jung's term for reaching our highest potential in life, not just living the life of the "provisional personality" in service of the Ego. Ego versus Soul.
For me a lot of my life script has involved the commingling of sex with massage and with male clients so that the majority of my intimate life has basically been one big feed on men during and in my work. I'm not proud. Just stating a fact. It has it's up and downs but it certainly ain't pretty, like in "MOON RIVER!" And when you do this, it does take a toll on your Soul and on your personal life; it's the big elephant in the room. Aha, yes I have tried S.C.A. I worked the program arduously throughout some points in my life. It wasn't for me. Now, being an elder, and seeing how I (thank you God) continue to operate superbly sexually is a great affirmation of life, and a victory especially at age 66 (online age 56). I would hate to stop enjoying it. That indeed may come with prostate issues or the further degrading of my body that aging entails. I guess I miss having a lover--or do I just think that because I'm supposed to have one? Of course there are the disgusting clients, the no show clients, the clients who have to have a drink in order to call me to book, the clients who think it's love and the clients who just want a cheap sex worker and who don't care about the massage at all; the really nervous "Down low" clients, and the hot clients who don't tip because they rationalize "Well, you're enjoying it too aren't you? And really darling, do you call this work?" Or, are they just plain cheap? Cheap yes--even though they may be world-class doctors who lecture around the world (still no tip on a $120 dollar hour--that's pretty damn cheap). I get sick of the list. But it's there along with the fabulous experiences; yes the physically fabulous releases and yes the true healing experiences, for those happen too. Yes and yes, but the one true thing is that it's always work. Always work. Until it's not. Gee, and what would that look like? To ponder a spontaneous loving and non-working relationship... Now that IS a Soul stretch! There is no prince, but there may be a partner, someday in my life. Or am I truly feral like my cat?
I have actually written a novel "Comfort" https://comfortbysaintorr.wordpress.com/ wherein I've chronicled a lot of this. Most of the names have been changed. The big theme therein is how freely the character, a M4M masseur lives his life partly as a result of the sexual abuse from his Mother when he was a kid. And there is redemption in his forgiveness of her (do we ever really forgive?) as she lay dying and that sort of thing. There's also lots of history of the East Village and some very "on-the-edge" tales of living in New York in the 80's and 90's. I can't seem to find an audience, though one of my writing partners obsessively extols the virtues of my voice and this novel. I don't care. I wrote it for me. If someone else enjoys it or learns from it or is entertained that's great. You go! But I've never been a crowd pleaser and no desire to start now. I write and journal (blog) because it's a kind of work that seems true. No one pays me. And if they did, they'd want control. Fuck that. It's my mirror, and my sanctuary. I'm no star. I certainly don't have the luxury of endless wealth but I manage to gift myself the time to write. That's a huge luxury and a way to express and empower myself; to find clarity, to find my Soul if you will. I think too that the sheer tedium and mediocrity of non-writing activities bores me. Also the in my book are a lot of opinions which may kill the flow of the story.
The last chapter I uploaded was called "Of Men and Feet" about a Foot Slave I happened to get it on with for some 17 years. I occasionally still see him on Avenue A. This once hunky N.S.A. playmate has now become a wizened, stiff old man, who looks quite frightened when I say "Hi Billy." I'm sure age is so hard on him because he stopped dancing when he had a nervous breakdown during the AIDS crises. When you stop dancing, you stop living. Movement is life! Especially if you "one of the tribe." Pity. Not sure if I've set up comments but I think you can. I would love to be published someday. Bucket list.
I have also just added a subscribe form at the bottom of this page so that a reader may add his name and subscribe to this blog which is quite fresh, unlike the censored blog on Rent Masseur. It feels great to write freely about my wayward, healing, touching M4M service, along with other adventures, creative projects, life experiences and "queer folk wisdom." I have some of that. I'd like to share and hear from other men who have wisdom to share. If I write genuine, I've won, evolved and individuated! Some say I live a "Pirate" kind of life and yes it is a risk, for there is always a wolf at the door it seems just waiting to attack. I don't say this lightly. I've been around. Life is not kind. Life is life, period.
My fabulous song https://youtu.be/rwMWh4WaOI0 is now released and I accomplished pitching it to music publisher today which was a huge victory. Also last had a music lesson in CUBASE 11 last week after my arrival via Zoom (hate that Zoom) which I continue to learn. In terms of promotion; myself and my musical team are trying to break the esoteric SPOTIFY SEARCH ENGINE code and social media marketing (FB, IG) along with paid promotion (various sources most of whom are Bangladesh based, currently a pair of brothers I have christened "The Monsoon Brothers"). We are pretty undecided about that venue wherein you pay $100 dollars and get 1000 subscribers guaranteed seems pretty much like Payola to me; but we're still doing research on that. The music business has become so formulated with labels it's sickening. I basically create for myself. Like I write I think I'm always back at the Saint dancing when I create music. When I sing, and loose myself in playing the piano/or singing, my Soul shines in my voice, takes flight and I can leave my body and float above. God I miss playing that piano at the Abrans Arts Center which now distributes food. Singing and playing the piano live is much more of a whole body experience than making electronic music but EDM and Electropop has the power of the media behind it.
So the big question is when will the Abrans studios open up and life return to a kind of normal? Meanwhile I try to practice radical acceptance and not drink too much!
Note: Mark Squared (a client from Rent Masseur) IS a massage thief! He steals massages from masseurs as he did with me--an Outcall valued at $160 dollars--in August of 2020. Be warned. Oh what a great release to publicize that varmint's name! I will try to forgive. Check back with my on that issue in a few months LOL.
So will there or will there not be a 4th Wave? Who knows on that one too?
So for now I end. Subscribe and show me some love, would you?