Well, I have officially scrapped my plans to move to Seattle. After much thought and discussions with my folks and others, I decided to move to Chicago instead. It's closer to my family in Maine and my best friends in Michigan. Plus I have kind of a second family in Chicago that would be able to help me out if I ever had any kind of emergency.
I took them all because I thought they would
help me somehow become a better man.
I took them every single chance I could -
had no idea there was a better plan.
Spent so much money, you will never know,
blacked out so many times - don't know myself.
Somehow I thought that fun was letting go -
of fears which kept me on some un-cool shelf.
For years I lived like this, all high and drunk.
I do remember John from way back when.
In high school I made sure we would be pals.
On school's first day, he asked me for a pen -
so he could write his number for the gals.
I wanted him so badly, words can't say.
We always were together, that was true.
We stood so close, he rarely pulled away -
I never once said, "John, I so want you."
Despite the fact he spoke of girls not guys,
You went to see your girlfriend just as planned.
I sit alone, just staring at the wall.
You said you'd try to make her understand -
you wouldn't let the love we share just fall.
You went to see your girlfriend and I'm here.
I stare at clouds inside my coffee mug.
My heart is racing, mainly out of fear.
I sure could use your famous, shoddy hug.
You said you'd tell her everything today.
If I was not born gay, maybe - I would.
I'd find myself a lovely girl to date.
I'd go to church like every good man should
and scoff at everyone who isn't straight.
I'd blame those faggots for the curse of AIDS -
I'd plant my crops by sowing poison seeds.
I'd only drink those yellow lemonades -
the pink kinds are for fags and girlie deeds.
I'd beat up local queers all late at night
I posted this elsewhere in reply to someone else's post, but I may as well also post it here in my journal. I think many of you will relate to it.
On the Death of Wishing
Sent off - a wish unarmed and undisguised
Was met and treated warmly, but rejected;
Trod slowly home, dejected and despairing
And died, as do all wishes unfulfilled.
I posted this picture elsewhere, but I wanted to put it in my journal as well. This is my best friend Raja. He is twelve years old. I got him from the humane society in Florida when he was two and we have been inseparable ever since. I like this picture of him because he looks thoughtful and intelligent in it, which he most definitely is.
I feel better today, so I had to come back and visit for awhile. I miss you guys so much I can't stay away for too long. Even when I'm not feeling too well, it gets so lonely up here in Maine. Having you guys and my chat room buddies to interact with really makes life here bearable.
This was the poem that brought me out to my parents. I "accidentally" sent it to them my first semester in college, shortly after I came out to myself. It's pretty bad - lots of hyperbole - but it has sentimental significance. Ah to be 17 again - NOT! I was miserable.
Let me have a lover
While there are still streams to cross with him,
This was a poem I wrote a few years back (well, ok, twenty-two years back) about a genderqueer friend of mine. Actually I suppose he was my first boyfriend, even though we only dated for three weeks. Keep in mind, I wrote this about a particular person, not about genderqueer people as a whole.
I made her
From bits of borrowed gender.
She walks, smiles and
Well, I woke up with a better attitude today. Since I can't change the fact that I have to pay this money back before I can leave Maine, I'm just going to focus on the things that I can do while I'm here. Last night I thought of a whole new Firma novel, which I actually can't tackle for awhile since I've promised to write a lesbian series after this trilogy.
Well, I've finally accepted the fact that, as things look now, I'm not going to be able to move to Seattle for another year. I mean, I'm still sending books off in hopes that someone will review one or pass one on to someone who can help me get some ka-ching in the cash register. But until I can get out of Maine, there's really very little I can do to get the word out that I haven't already done.
Well I sent out a copy of Orphan's Quest to Oprah today along with a letter telling her all about my battle with HIV and how the book came ultimately came about. I feel like a total publicity whore now, trading off my illness to try and get some attention.