Walked Upon: An Original Poem

What's this poem all about? Hint: it's not about flooring...

All The Better To See You With, My Dear

If the definition of progressive is 'moving forward towards progress', then why do I feel I just took a huge step backwards by picking up my new 'progressive' bifocals?  Seriously, at 46... I'm reduced to these?  I ate my carrots, I didn't sit too close to the TV and my Mom always said you'd go blind if you masturbate too much so.... ohhhhh, ok... um, that explains it then.  True story.  Anyway, I guess it beats holding things about a foot from my face to see it.  It gives me a better perspective, and it's always good to see things more clearly and not have to try to figure out what you're really looking at.

It seems that as you get older and you lose your physical eyesight, you actually see with more clarity.  What was important to you when you were younger is put into perspective with some experience and time, and you start to have a different opinion of your priorities.  You see the world in a different way and perhaps have less tolerance for things that you may not have noticed in the past.  As your vision blurs, you are able to see solutions to your problems that you might not have before... and you get x-ray vision... you can now see right through people... no one can pull the wool over your eyes... and the wolf in sheep's clothing isn't an effective disguise any more.  Although your eyes are closer to being closed than opened when you squint, you can finally see things in focus.  And while your eyeglass prescription gets thicker, your patience wears thinner.  And when your sense of sight goes, you rely on your other senses to guide you, and you trust your gut and use your intuition.  You are nobody's fool, even though your coke-bottle glasses appear to make you look like one.

This past year has been a real eye-opener for me.  I've had several long-term (30 + year) friendships end as well as some not-so-long and some relationships because I finally stopped looking through rose-colored glasses and walked away from people and situations that were either too much drama, were people I couldn't trust any more or I finally saw people for what they were when I took a good look and stopped making excuses for them.  Like prior to getting my bifocals, when I held these friendships back and looked at a distance, I was able to see these relationships in full view... with a new clarity to see that most of them just took from me and didn't give anything.  They were disrespectful, but not as much as how I disrespected myself for putting up with it for so long, thinking that I didn't deserve better.  And while I am no easy person to deal with, I put the effort into my friendships, but seldom do I get the same in return.  I am thankful for those that I am close with that give as much as they take, who accept me exactly for who I am and don't try to change me in the least and that value our connection and don't take it for granted.  Those are the most enjoyable and mean the most.  I would rather be alone than be surrounded by selfish people who only care about themselves... because there is nothing more lonely than that... not even total blindness.

Angel's Landing, Zion National Park

I came across this video today of the place I hiked up to in Zion last year....  Doesn't even scratch the surface of how amazing this place is... and how incredible the hike is.

Being Put Through The Meat GRINDr

Picture it... It's 1994 at 5:10 p.m. on a Friday night and you suddenly realize that you have nothing to wear to go out tonight... at least something that someone hadn't seen you in already.  A trip to the mall is in order because, lets face it, when you are out to see and be seen, what you are wearing is pivotal, since it defines, at first glance, what you are about and who you are.  You could be shot down instantly for not having the right name brand designer on your back or using the wrong opening line, and within a few minutes of walking through the front door of the bar (which might as well be a fashion show runway), your fate would be set for the evening... or at least until about quarter 'til two when the pickin's get slim and standards are dropped ever so slightly (with a loud thud) right before the lights go up and stark reality shines down like a spotlight.  If you have no confidence, quarter til two wasn't anywhere you should be.  It was brutal and there was no hiding.  A black, blousy shirt became your best friend if you did have anything to hide.  My friends and I would joke... 'what do you think of that guy?', one would ask... 'he's an 11:45', denoting that he'd be someone that you'd want to meet earlier than before the night was over.  Harsh.  We're so hard on each other.

Nowadays, with dating and the phone apps, you can literally make everything up, including your stats, your profile, your age, your occupation and your pictures and sit at home in your pajamas and let the magic unfold from your couch while watching a Meredith Baxter Birney drama (one of the 13 where she portrays a jilted, scorned wife and shoots them or cuts their balls off).  And because very few people ever plan to actually meet up, you can be whomever you want to be since no one is really going to see you... and you don't need a fresh outfit... no need to brush your teeth or run a comb through your hair... yes, you are settled in to a night of Lifetime and a low battery, and the only real action your lap is going to see tonight is from your dog/cat who can't keep still, searching for that comfortable spot.  Mr. Mittens is the only pussy you're going to see tonight.

With the gay apps, you create your profile and just sit back and wait for the shit-storm of judgment and criticism to come down on you like a jungle rain shower.  The nice thing is that it all happens behind the scenes... you don't actually know why someone hasn't responded since you don't actually get to or have to interact with them.  You don't know what part of your profile they didn't like which only adds to insecurity.  And you get no opportunity to find out either.  I'm not sure which is worse... getting instant feedback/rejection face-to-face or that wondering that you have to do when someone doesn't even have the courtesy to respond, at all.  Imagine walking up to someone and saying "Hi, you're handsome... nice meeting you" and having the other person stand there and not respond or acknowledge you in the least bit.  This is what happens all the time on the apps.  Not only has the birth of this form of media bred the worst social interacting malfunction in history, but it also breeds rudeness beyond belief.  I've never read the statement that you agree to when you install the app, but it must say something about setting yourself up for anguish, ridicule and general ignorance.

I find that the majority of people on the apps are of the 18-27 or 46-? range.  I think it's because kids are out of high school/college and have nothing better to do and need constant attention and interaction.  They never want to meet because they always are looking for the next 'best' thing, which comes by every 19 seconds.  They will never be happy or satisfied because they are incapable of getting below the superficial.  And the older ones are on there because they are set in their jobs and their life has become routine and they have more time.  They are also fighting the effects of gravity and getting older, so they are more likely to hide behind an app and probably not meet because they are afraid to be rejected and found out.  Very rarely do you see a thirty-something on the apps... maybe they are busy with their careers in full-swing or they are in a relationship already, I don't know.  If they are, it's usually because they are in an open relationship and they are looking for sex. 

At some point, with all the ways to connect nowadays, we have lost the ability to really connect with each other on any level other than sexual... and the meaningless kind at that.  No emotional exchange... no sympathy, empathy or compassion.  No touch... nothing beyond the surface.  All of it is vapid and shallow.  People talk about wanting a relationship but have no idea what that means or what it entails.  With their parent's broken marriage as the blueprint, they have no idea what love looks like and giving up and walking away seems to be what you are supposed to do.  And fending for themselves because both parents are at work makes them completely void of caring about anyone else's needs but their own.  All take and no give.  This is the norm.

In the sea of love, if you wade in the shallow, all you'll see are tadpoles and bottom-feeders... everything beautiful is below the surface.  You have to dive in and get wet to get to where the magic happens. 

Full of Shinola

My Mom was good for her odd sayings... for someone whose outfit didn't match, she'd say they looked like a 'Russian Christmas on a Wednesday night'... To differentiate time, if something was fast it was 'quicker than shit through a sick goose'.  And if someone didn't know what they were talking about, she'd say they 'didn't know shit from Shinola'.  Shinola, apparently, was a brand of wax shoe polish available in the early to mid-20th century.  It was a dark, sticky, semisolid substance with a faint resemblance to human feces.  Implied, is that shit and Shinola, while superficially similar, are quite different in value when applied to shoes or carelessly stepped in. 

At the risk of sounding like some moral-high-road Conservative, it still shocks me when I see people's behavior these days.  I've written about it over and over again because I just can't wrap my head around how people's moral fabric has deteriorated.  I'm no angel, I'll give you that, but we were always taught to respect each other, but respect yourself as well, if not more.  It's disturbing to see how people act, especially regarding sexual encounters and their bodies.  I'm not sure when things changed, or maybe they never did, but it seems like no one has any respect or dignity or self-worth these days.  The infidelity and lying comes so naturally that it's just accepted as commonplace.  There's no respect, remorse, regret, responsibility or apology and certainly no self-control.  For guys, especially gay, the idea of monogamy has long-since been debunked with the explanation being simply that "it's not natural... we are guys... it's what guys do".  And while I am constantly debating monogamy in my own head as to which way works (because I really haven't seen too many examples of it working in a relationship with or without), I'm not ready to give up, and surely not in the beginning of a relationship 10 minutes into it because someone else whips their wiener out.  And when you throw in diseases brought back to the other or collateral damage, like innocent kids that may be affected, the respect, remorse, regret and responsibility are completely gone from the equation.

I am proud to say that I have never cheated on anyone.  I'm not judging anyone... it's just not for me.  I know that it has been going on forever in time but I, personally, feel that the internet had a great deal to do with the demise of the 'relationship'.  24/7 access to a hook up through the apps makes it impossible to find anyone that is serious about a relationship and even if they say they are, usually they are full of shit regardless.  It's hard not to become jaded... you can see them a mile away... and no matter how much Shinola you apply... 'you can't polish a turd'... yet another one of my Mom's sayings.

My Life As a Dog

Not having roots in religion, I've written in the past about my beliefs, which are fairly insubstantial.  I believe there probably was a pretty cool dude named Jesus that would have been someone I would have liked to have hung out with and had some hummus and chatted with about shit, but of all the things though to have really strong feelings about, I have always believed in reincarnation.  We are all dealt different hands in life... some very lucky and some not so much.  I could never understand why life was so unfair for some, and always felt that the life that we are cognitively living currently is one of many that we have to live (or have already lived) before we can get to where we are supposed to end up.  So maybe one life you are very wealthy and one poor... one maybe good looking and one not... one you are riddled with health problems...  one as a minority... and so on.  To me, it made sense that to be a better well-rounded person and someone who was truly worthy, you would need to understand other people's plights and walk in their shoes.  When I was little, I wanted to come back as a dog, because it seems like almost everyone loves dogs and you get to lay about the house doing nothing... maybe the occasional ball lick and an ass sniff... it's all good.  All I know is my current reincarnation must be getting me ready to be a Saint, because the shit I'm dealing with in this go-round from my family better earn me some friggin' wings and a set of mugs.

A friend of mine recently turned me on to an 'unauthorized parody' called Dog Sees God:  Confessions of a Teenage Blockhead.  The play imagines characters from the popular comic strip The Peanuts as teenagers. Drug use, suicide, eating disorders, teen violence and bullying, rebellion, sexual relations and identity are among the issues covered in this drama.  When CB's (based loosely on Charlie Brown (names have been changed)) dog dies from rabies after biting a yellow bird, CB goes to his friend Van (Linus) and asks him where we go when we die.  A self-professed Buddhist, Van tells him that either your spirit dissolves or you become reincarnated.  Another friend tells him that we return to the womb, although it may not be that of your mothers.  And while the story unfolds and CB tries to make sense of it, as well as other things that are happening (like his gay love for his friend, Beethoven), the message in the end is comforting to CB in that some of his friends may be looking after each other in the afterlife.

If it sounds intriguing, you're in luck... The Martinsburg High School is performing it... Here's the production info:

When: September 6 and 7 at 7:30 pm     September 8 at 2 pm

Where: Martinsburg High School   701 S. Queen Street Martinsburg, WV 25401

Cost: Adults $9    Students $7     Festival seating with tickets sold at the door

They will be hosting speakers from the following organizations with a percentage of the profits going to that organization:

Fri--Fairness WV
Sat--National Office of the HRC
Sun-- New Light Metropolitan Church

Strangers in the Night

I had slipped into something a little more 'comfortable, turning out the lights having only a few candles lit around my bedroom and I poured myself some merlot.  The humidity was thick as the warm breeze blew through the open window, curtains blowing as if to draw me in to the heat of the night, begging me to lie there naked and exposed.  I heard a sound as he slowly entered the room and surrounded me.  Softly, he spoke, saying all the things I wanted to hear with his melodic tone... music to my ears after all the others.  His whispers penetrated me, going deep into my soul... transporting me to another time and place... right to my core... raw.  The images in my mind and smells that were conjured overtook me.  I was helpless, under his control, as I unbuttoned my blouse.  Teasing me.  Playing me.  Giving me chills.  Making me want him.  Suddenly, I fell prey to the beautiful song he was singing to me and I called out his name... "Barry... you do write the songs that make the young girls cry", as I, myself, slowly wept... clutching my pillow, wishing it was him.  If only I could meet Mr. Manilow.  He touched me every day, if not physically, then through his music and I loved him so and he, me, and only me (despite this Mandy girl that he so often sang about).

Music has the incredible ability to invoke so many feelings, emotions, memories and reactions from us.  It can make us remember a certain instance or memorable occasion or person... even down to a certain smell.  It can make us laugh and make us cry with only a few notes.  When I hear Stuck On You, I still remember my high school girlfriend and laying in the park on a blanket in the warm summer's sun.  When I hear Sing, I think of my Mom and me singing in the house while we cleaned and a faint smell of Lemon Pledge is conjured.   Eye of the Tiger transports me to Myrtle Beach in 1983 carrying my boom-box down the beach, even recalling what I was wearing. 

I grew up with Big Band music from my parents.  I've always had a love of music, particularly the piano and I took lessons when I was younger and sang in the choir in high school.  I developed a love of classical music early on through a series of tapes called Hooked on Classics, where they took the classical pieces from great composers and added a beat to them, somewhat modernizing them.  From my Italian heritage, I have also liked foreign music, especially Italian and French.  Some of Marlene Dietrich's or Edith Piaf's songs take me back to my trip to Paris, leisurely walking about Montmartre, browsing the many artists painting on their easels with pastry in-hand.  Lounge music from the late 50's and early 60's has always been a favorite of mine as well, with it's bongos and odd instruments, you almost want to light a cigarette and sip a martini.  And I wouldn't be gay if I didn't love a show tune or 300, and the passion behind opera is amazing in that you don't have to understand a word of it to be able to feel the angst.  Even some of the country classics take me back to a time when I used to go to gay two-stepping where I met a lot of my really good friends. 

I'm glad I have a diverse love of music.  In dating some of the twenty-somethings, I think it is the difference in music that is the hardest for me.  Songs that invoke angst or moodiness are my favorite, always being able to pull more feeling out of pain than happiness in a song.  Lady GaGa does nothing for me except wonder where she got the bacon on her dress and why I'm suddenly hungry... to call some of these current singers 'artists' is a joke.  Nowadays, anyone can be famous and it doesn't take talent and the music award shows couldn't be a better reflection.  With auto-tune and various other electronic alterations, almost anyone can sing... well, maybe not Taylor Swift.  Oh well, I'm sure our parents said the same about us... or you, maybe... since I was listening to their music at 14, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.