HEY BITCHES, I'M BACK!

Although I would LOVE to regale you loyal readers with fantastic tales of uninhibited awesomeness, the real story is that my life, with still quite fulfilling, has been dull as of late. And I like it! I work, come home, have a beer, watch something on Netflix and fall asleep (often sitting up in the chair I am writing this in). BUT - that's OK!

Work hasn't been kicking my ass, as much as I have been kicking it. However, the schedule is all over the goddamned place; late nights and early mornings, often with less than 8 hours between the two. Couple that with the lack of sunlight, the ridiculous winter we've been enduring in Chicago...I have been eating like a champ and hibernating. 

There are reasons, I think for my wanting time alone. The last few years have been FUCKING HELL. Unemployment, dealing with my DUI, my weird EX that I don't care if I ever hear from again. And I know other people have/had it harder than myself, but that doesn't discount the stress I have been under. Perhaps I bore the load more than I had too...

...However.    

I believe I am slowly, yet surely turning over a new page. Easing into being myself, as it were. For better or worse, I am an efficient, dysfunctional human being that honestly loves the place I am in right now. Could I improve myself more actively? Perhaps, but that's not something a gym membership, sobriety nor a boyfriend can provide. 

As I get older, I am more ME. And if some people don't appreciate that, well...go Fuck Yourself. That's not to say I don't value different points of view; in fact I seek and entertain them. Everyone has a voice. And should express it in any form possible. To me, THAT is attractive. Not necessarily in a "sexual" way, just being human.    

CHICAGO IS MY HOME

"Fuck it, I'm not leaving, I'll die here". - My Brother

Many years ago my older brother said that, and I must concur. Months ago I was high on mushrooms with one my dearest and best friends, sitting on the banks of the Ohio River, in Louisville (great place) when she told me I should move to another city, just to gain a different set of life experiences. And she's right, I should. 

There are several cities where I can see myself living: London is one in particular, so is Vancouver, and perhaps I'd be happy in Toronto (where I was born). Or perhaps (wild card) Mexico City. But certainly not LA, or New York City. I have tried both, and although I like both places for various reason...they can both go FUCK OFF. 

Chicago is like a vacuum. People all over from the Midwest, be it Iowa, Indiana, Michigan or even Ohio move here in there early 20"s, seeking the "Big City" life, get a taste and then fled for higher ground for reasons ranging from having kids or seeking better employment. To each there own. I could have done the same, and who knows, perhaps one day I will. 

But for now, with all the various uncertainties that is my life, there is one thing that I am 100% sure of, it's that, Chicago is my home, and GODDAMN if I'm leaving anytime soon. I've watched close friends, family and co-workers take off and then in hushed whispers, reveal that they didn't leave and in more importantly, desire to return. 

There is a reason why I have the flag inked on my arm. Because no matter where I go, or what I do, I will represent/defend/embellish where I am from. 

No matter where I go, I will come back here to die. 

MY FIRST TRUE VALENTINE'S DAY

Early in one's life, the concept of Valentine's Day is presented, fairly or not. Examples include one's parents, or friend's parents, or implied/forced reciprocation by middle school teachers. My parent's were...sorta romantic, but I learned about love in middle school. Or maybe that's what confused me.

I do recollect collecting Valentine's from girl's, and also sending them. Little messages scratched out on construction paper, so innocent. Or exchanging candies, etc. There isn't much else to do to distract one during a cold Chicago winter. Or Catholic middle school! I used to give my homeroom teacher presents, for God Sake.

Anywho, speeding up to yesterday, things have been going AWESOME with T, and I really wanted to make a special night of it. Somehow we comprised on "celebrating" it on Monday, not Tuesday, and getting burgers and going bowling. Simple, cheap, we even watched 2 episodes of "Pawn Stars".

This might seem innocent and simple, but walking home, we stopped in the middle of a street and started kissing, like we never did before. During a brief stop he remarked "I never kissed when it was snowing" but he always wanted to (remember he's from Florida) so we made it happen, and held hands on the walk home.

He makes me happy.

THE 3 GAYS PART 2

Despite all the encouragement I have received in regards to the last post, I have not, nor will I engage in an illicit 3/4 way. It's just not my style, and besides, as a bit of a control freak, that whole situation simply wouldn't suit my many neurosis.

HOWEVER! In the meantime, I have managed to meet not one, two but three guys. I'm only fucking one of them (depending on your definition), and then there's him, which is basically over in my mind.

Here's a breakdown:

A: Totally adorable "twink" type, 24 y/o, we drink, make out, watch cartoons and make out some more. Great date material too; and my roommate loves him in that not really loving strangers kind of way. [He's coming over over tonight]

B: This guy could also be described as a "twink", but holy hell he fucks like it's going out of style. Despite his appearance, he can not only take it, but invent new ways to roll around without pants on. We both wear similar glasses too, which is both cute and annoying when we make out.

C: The Non-Drinker. I saved the best for last. "C" just moved here, and although we only have hung out a few times, I feel a very close connection to him, for no rational/discernible reason.

The last night I spent with him included nothing beyond us laying in his bed, cuddling and talking about art, life, history...fucking amazing. I have never found another guy like this before. And I REALLY like his influence on me in terms of staying sober.

Not to sound...whatever, but I do believe certain people come into your life for a reason. And although I'm/We're not committed, I feel such a great energy from him, an energy that I haven't felt in some time. Who knows how it will go. But I'm willing to see it through.

PS - Sorry if the title was misleading. The Alpha Homo did touch my arm the other day, but that's as far as anything has gone, and likely will.

MOMENTS IN TIME

Every so often I have a "moment", by which I mean a minute or two where it feels like everything freezes and I marvel at how awesome Something(s) can be. Perfect example: the other day I had the privilege of drinking a La Trappe Isid'or, and without realizing it, after it was set in front of me, I took a sip and said "holy fuck" under my breath. The stranger next to me said "wow, you really must like that beer".

My point is, sometimes I gloss over so much of the great, even awesome things I have access to. And not just chemically related things; again, another day ago I was stuck in my head, earphones on, taking the train to work. The sky suddenly changed, and when I peered out the window...this perfect, achingly beautiful vantage point of the skyline appeared over the trees.

I may not be rich, and my left index finger is swollen from injuring it at work the other night and I'm not getting laid tonight. But it doesn't matter. Life is great. Perhaps that sounds trite, but sometimes I forget just how amazing it is to just...be. Alive that is. There is no boredom, no stress I can't handle, no one I can't in some way relate to. Wounds heal, money comes and go, but life itself, is precious. And I get to live mine in a city like none other. It's fucking sweet!

PS - I am about to join friends at a lesbian-ish karaoke bar, one in which my deceased Grandfather used to frequent (when it was a common 'hood tavern at the time).

THERAPHY

Let's discuss this concept called "therapy". Specifically, group therapy, of which I have been going through for the last months. I've done 42 hours (out of the 75 court mandated hours) and haven't gone in 2 weeks.

There are many reasons why it's good/bad; lets start with the good. It has been helpful to talk about my problems with anonymous strangers. I can say things to these people I wouldn't tell me Mother. Or Father. And I can learn from other people's situations.

BUT, after spending 2 months in a small room, listening to heroin addicts being berated, or ex-con's who would rather be in jail, or whatever the FUCK else, I needed a break. And in addition, identifying one's own issues (as I think I've done), being beaten over the head with the same message just gets exhausting.

Last night, I had a horrific dream, in which I re-imagined the car accident I was responsible for. Drunk as I was when it originally happened, I clearly remember the officer that arrested me saying that had I not been wearing a seatbelt, I would have been dead - through the windshield.

So last night, and I can still see this clear as day, that happening, having my head severed and watching the paramedics cleaning up my lifeless, headless body, blood and glass mixed together everywhere, lighted with blue strobes.

So...yeah. I've learned my fucking lesson. And I don't need anyone else to tell me how lucky I am to be alive, or how worse it could have been. I've thoroughly beaten the living shit out of my self about this whole thing, and probably will continue to do so.

But maybe more therapy will teach me not to, and get over that hump of feeling guilty, and shitty and beyond remorseful. In the meantime, I will keep working my ass off. And paying off the money I owe these people that are trying to help me.

I'M GOOD...HOW ARE YOU?

*Perfunctory blog post alert*

I really feel like my life is getting better; a series of small, yet important victories has led me to believe that I am capable of change and more importantly that I'm not a total fucking asshole/fuck-up. I got ways to go, but I think I'm on the right path.

Although I'm not totally sober (I've had some drinks here and there, and there) I am proud to say I have not ingested a single controlled substance, and I've got my drinking in check. It hasn't been easy, but feeling healthy-ish has been it's own unique award.

Too bad it's so damn cold out here in Chicago; it keeps me from going to the gym as frequently as I would like, and I keep picking up more and more shifts at work (which is it's own work out). And obviously I'm walking EVERYWHERE not by choice, but that's OK.

Overall, I guess my life is a precarious balance between being boring and responsible, hence this ho-hum blog post. But it's better than posting about how I got smashed and woke up next to someone I don't recognize, right?

Hope you all are doing well. Let's agree to not make 2011 suck, cool?

HE'S A SPY

Last night I went out front of the bar for a smoke, and to stretch my Bar Back; little did I know that I was being watched by my DUDE on a security camera. Seriously.

His place of business is literally next door, and they have security cameras. So he watched me smoke, stretch and talk to myself. And he still likes me.

How cute.

When he was done with his business, he came over and I marveled at his ability to change the mood in the bar. I know it sounds like I'm being a teenage Queen, but whatever. I pretended to yell at him for non-existent issues...we had fun. And I got drunk. And made serious $!

PS-Making out on the clock is doubly satisfying.

PPS-I'm working, last minute, tonight and letting my Bro and his Wife borrow my camera equipment for their Honeymoon/African Safari. I wish I was going to Botswana for 3 weeks, but whatever.

PEOPLE LIKE TO TOUCH ME

Yes, the title of this blog post is narcissistic in nature, but I am honestly wondering why, Why, WHY people like touching me! Last night at work no less then 6 people grabbed my nipples, a few more than several times.

I'm guessing it's because the men and women I work with know I'm a homo, therefore rendering me non-threatening, sexually speaking that is. But the ass grabbing? Jesus, one of the bartenders even swiped my crotch.

I don't care, really, and it's not sexual harassment; part of it is purely born of necessity. Working behind a bar is akin to working on a submarine (I imagine) in that we are all in close quarters. That being said, I always opt for the shoulder tap, or a verbal "BEHIND YOU".

Whatever, it's all good. Who wouldn't like a job that involves your boss getting you high and force feeding you beer? I mean, that's kinda awesome. Last night was a particularly good night, and as a result, I can barely get my wallet to fold. Cha-Ching.

SUSHI, SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND OTHER SHIT

Japanese restaurants have never been my thing; they are inherently expensive, too formal and smell like raw fish. I'm not a fan of any of those things. So, why I thought I could work in a place where I couldn't turn my back on the Head Chef for more than a brief moment...I don't know.

I worked a single shift on Monday night, for 5 hours and it was an experience that utterly bewildered me. Did I mention I don't like sushi? I don't. And I had, at one point try a roll with octopus in it (gagging still). But being the hard working sort I am, and not wanting to let down the friends and family that got me the job, I determined to push on.

After that shift, I went the other location of the bar I have been working at (just around the corner from the sushi place). 2 beers later my new manager shows up, fucking hammered. Telling me how "handsome" I am, and how noticed my flat stomach during the interview and other creepy shit and how much he likes my taste in sneakers (duh, it's impeccable, but WHAT?).

After a few more beers I decided I needed to walk to the corner to jump on a bus, but he insisted I share his cab. Here's where I made a mistake. I agreed. He told the driver NOT to stop where I needed to jump out, and seeing as he was so drunk he was bouncing off walls, I agreed to see him into his apartment. Dumb, I know, but I'm a nice guy like that.

He pours 2 glasses of wine even though I ask him not to, but not wanting to be rude to my NEW BOSS I accept. Here's where things really took a turn for the worst. Mind you, he never forced himself on me, but he might as well have. He begged me to stay the night. Under normal circumstances, I would be flattered. But he's lucky I didn't beat the shit out of him.

Needless to say, this whole experience (many details of which I decided to excise) soured me on fine dining, and yesterday, I called this guy up...and fucking QUIT. My determination to stick it out, and make much needed money and my self respect battled, but ultimately, the latter won out. And I feel good about that.

I feel good.

PS - My Roommate left for a 3 week visit home to Europe. The Man Cave is in full effect. I'm not closing the door when I drop a deuce, wearing nothing but gym shorts and smoking inside. And it's fucking great. Strike that, it's FUCKING AWESOME.

MY SHOES SPIT HOT FIRE

FOR weeks now I've been planning a proper Viking Funeral for my beloved Adidas Supermods; these currently out of production sneakers have done so much more for me than I ever could have expected. But it was time they go, and I wanted to send them off right.

So I did the only slightly reasonable thing I know how to do: my friend and I took them to the back alley behind my place, doused them with butane, and they those fuckers BURN.

However, these shoes are apparently indestructible! We let them burn for a few minutes before a car was coming down the ally (also I seem to remember a Police passing on a nearby street) so we had to stomp them out.

Now I plan on framing them as a "monument" of sorts. Maybe Neal can help me mount them within a Lucite box; it's cheesy but these shoes mark a significant chapter in my life, and I'm very reluctant to let them go. Likewise, I'm sure.

OFFICIAL PROOF I AM NOW BLUE COLLAR

The image below is a proper way to make a workingman's lunch. You're looking at bread from a Vietnamese bakery (3 for $1!), Dry Cracov Sausage from a deli on the far West Side (Thanks Roomie IV!) and spicy mustard from the Dollar Store around the corner.

Although that sausage is delicious, I prefer not to gnaw on intensional casing. Thus illistrated is the after photo of the un-delicate process and ripping that shit off. It makes my fingers super greasy and makes me want to become a vegetarian. Gross.

But it's all worth it in the end. Dinner is served (or will be at some point while at work tonight) for next to nothing. Somehow I have subverted the European trend of eating well, and enjoying it, while also mashing it up with the American style of eating a bunch of crap Super fast. PERFECT!

Don't forget the PBR!

MUCH, MUCH BETTER

Last year I was so depressed I actually took the course of action that involved medical attention, specifically in the form of Lexapro (ugh, that happy looking couple can die in a furious car accident), and I never attended the therapy sessions I was prescribed.

But what I did learn, or rather, altered, is that when I'm sad, depressed, pissed off or whatever, is that no bad shit gets, emotionally, it's important NOT TO HOLD THAT SHIT IN. It can be embarrassing, and occasionally humiliating to express sadness; but what I've come to learn is that it's better to let it out rather than let it fester.

So I have my moments of weakness, and I do my best to relay these feelings, and then I move on, which is where I am now, as opposed to yesterday. I might self medicate with smoking and/or drinking, but goddamn, it allows me to speak up and express myself, instead of taking pills and being so placid I can't SPEAK THE FUCK UP.

When I'm alone I often get down and/or over think shit. But when I'm social I'm positively gregarious. I fucking love the shit out of my friends, and consider myself so lucky to have so many, awesome, awesome buddies and lady friends. I've got a lot to live for, and fully intend on sticking around/pissing people people off, haha!

You all are gonna have to deal with me for a long time; I'm not going anywhere, bitches. I realize I'm anything BUT perfect, flawed even, however I have a good heart and a sound mind. And I honestly love you all.

BEER, BEER & MORE BEER. ALSO, KARAOKE

Allow me to apologize in advance for what are sure to be a few grammar/spelling errors. I'm fucking exhausted, but I'm not feeling sorry for myself; there is an envelope sitting on my desk containing $405 in small bills, which dulls the pain inflicted by the numerous kegs of beer I had to heft this weekend. Oh, and I popped my karaoke cheery. For real. Read on...

Friday night I worked my usual doorman/whore shift. It was pretty uneventful and 6 hours spent on my feet passed mercifully fast. The only time it lagged was after I emptied the bar when we closed, and bore witness to a massive BITCH FEST because the bartenders/bar backs felt people screwed them out of tips (which they did).

Saturday was a LONG day/night. The same people that own the bar I work at got the beer concession at a street festival, and they employ the same people to work the 2 beers tents there. I thought I didn't have to work until 6PM, but no, had to work at 4PM. Whatever, I'll take what I can get.

Having said that, I was not prepared to stand for hours in 90 degree heat checking ID's and issuing wrist bands. Man...sweaty drunk people criticizing how tightly I apply a wristband gets old quick! Also, pouring beer after beer after beer, while easy, gets sticky very fast. The only thing I could do was drink beer faster and rub ice cubes on my hands to rid myself of the nasty feeling of having beer soak into my pores. Don't even get me started on the Sangria that nearly ruined my shoes.

Still, it was pretty easy and fun, despite the occasional asshole(s). After that I was ready to go to bed, but the night was not ready for me to be done quite yet...as I had to attend my very first bachelorette party! It wasn't a traditional "girly" type affair, but their were cock shaped everything everywhere (which I guess is but one reason I was invited).

Since my good friend is getting married at the last moment (long story) and I had not been able to afford a proper wedding gift, and since we ended up at a bar with Karaoke...I offered to sing her a song. I have never done it before, and might never again, but I think I made Jim Morrison proud with my rendition of "Roadhouse Blues". Oh, and then I got our group all on stage together for a collective rapeing of "Bohemian Rhapsody". Fuckin' A!

The night was not yet done though; a few of us ended up at a gay country western bar. Yes, you read that right. Clearly we were drunk out of our minds. The place was nasty, although mildly festive (except for the poor fellow visiting from Florida who doesn't drink...he just looked confused/terrified, especially after watching his sister make out with some random dude).

Needless to say I was tired as FUCK on Sunday. Going to bed at 5AM and wakeing up at 10AM makes me tired and feel kinda old. Whatever. I pressed through it with a littlwe help fro my friends (a steak sandwich, several beers and a bowl of hydroponic always helps).

Sunday back at the tent was much more intense then the previous evening. Whereas before ther were 16-18 people casually serving people, this tent had 7-8 people serving at least twice as many people. The good thing was that the time simply vanished. We were so busy I didn't even take a smoke break or take a piss for 4 straight hours. By the end of the night my shoes were squishy with beer and my white T-Shirt covered in Sangria.

I can still smell PBR.

Despite is all...I am SO FUCKING HAPPY that I was allowed to get covered in beer and surrounded by assholes. For 12 hours work I got PAID son! I had so much cash on me last night I could barely fit it in my pockets. Mostly it was single dollar bills, but I still felt rich for a moment.

So when I woke this morning I felt sore, hungover and fatigued. However...a cute boy I met 2 weeks ago wants to hang out. His name? Justin.

LITTLE BIT OF FEEL GOOD GOES A LONG WAY

27 years, and 364 days ago Mama Guy From Chicago's water broke...AND THE WORLD WAS NEVER THE SAME!

Papa Guy From Chicago was on a business trip (thanks Dad) although Grandpa Guy From Chicago was present for my birth, which required Mama Guy From Chicago to get her belly cut open, since I didn't want to go the traditional route. How fitting.

Thanks to my Mama's recent call, I just got to relive the excruciating details of my birth. Apparently, I was not a screamer and on the way home from the hospital in Yorkshire, on the outskirts of Toronto, I slept, well, like a baby. But this caused my mother at one point to think "her baby was dead".

I may have come into this world quietly, but I will not won't be leaving as such! And in the meantime, I plan to RAWK with my CAWK out (please, someone hide my iPhone from me). Let's celebrate with some music, shall we? Yes, we most DEF shall!

Jamie Lidell "Little Bit of Feel Good"

MY LIFE IS A JOY TO ME (USUALLY)

Once again, I find myself disregarding any semblance of sanity in regards to my "bed time", but it's cool, I'm in a good mood and all that.

While puttering around on-line a song rang through my head-phones called "Ochs" by a guy named Bonnie Prince Billy. Really wanted to post the actual audio and/or video on here but it don't exist on the internet.

Rather than fold my cards I diligently transcribed the lyrics (I really need a hobby - maybe I need to start knitting).

SO! Although these lyrics might seems super depressing, I somehow manage to find them "uplifting". Sad songs sometimes have that effect on me, in that my mind will spin a negative thought into a positive one.

Fuck, I sooooo wish I could post the audio to this track, but thus far, I have been "Rock-Blocked". Dang! Anyways...

My life,
was once a joy to me
never knowing
I was growing every day

My life
was once a toy to me
and I wound it
and I found it ran away

So I raced through the night
with a face at my my feet
like a god I would write
all the melodies were sweet
and the women in were white
it was easy to survive

My life was so alive

My life
was once a flag to me
and I waved it
and behaved like i was told

My life
was once a drag to me
and I loudly
and I proudly lost control

I was drawn by a dream
I was loved by a lie
every surf on the sea
begged me to buy
but I slipped through the scheme
so lucky to fail

My life was not for sale

My life
is now a myth to me
like the drifter
with his laughter in the dawn

My life
is now a death to me
so i'll mold it
and i'll hold it 'til i'm born

So I turn to the land
Where I'm so out of place
through a curse on the plan
in return for the grace
to know where I stand

Take everything I own
take your tap from my bone
and leave my life alone

My life alone

You know, once upon a time "my life was a drag to me" and I'll admit it, sometimes I allow it to be. The difference between Old Me and New Me is that I quickly recognize this useless bullshit and pull myself out of it. Usually. At least, more so than I used to be capable of doing so. This feels like progress of sorts.

Whereas in the past I would wallow in despair, I now think about the good things in my life. Sure, there are things I NEED to change, like my unsatisfying line of work, but there are "work-arounds" for time being that preserve my sanity.

And I wouldn't trade my life right now for any other period of my life.

Things can always be better, but I have come to the realization that no is 100% happy/ideal/perfect. Show me someone who is and I'll point at the same person and label them a liar. Really - who is? It's all about degrees of satisfaction, and that thought is no longer depressing to me. In fact, it's empowering.

"Take your tap from my bone and leave my life alone"...I'll take it from here. I almost know what I'm doing, and though I might take a wrong turn from time to time, or refuse to pull over for directions, that's OK. I'm content to live and learn, as it were.

Though I will contradict myself and state that I am eager to learn from others. This also feels like progress.

Or maybe I need to go to sleep at a more reasonable hour...

PS - You're welcome Bonnie Prince! I seem to be the first to transcribe the lyrics to this song!