This Used To Be My Playground

For the last I dunno how long...probably back when I lived in Harlem and took my first walkabout to the old neighborhood, I've been dreaming about what it would be like to go back into the building that I was born to. On Riverside Drive. Recently the dreams have been falling consecutively. They were driving me quite mad. In the dreams things were always in horrible shape, as if they were telling me not to pursuit this dream in reality. The dreams showed horrible stairs, rickety elevators, pollution and filth everywhere. But in the dreams, I never quite made it to my apartment door. Only a few times, but not everytime.

Well today, after I blogged my entry while at work, my head was still aswim with turmoil. Grizz, your comment was greatly appreciated and I am going to email you. I do want to hear your voice. You'd be the second person who knows this much about me that I will actually "speak" to. I look forward to this experience. If I cry any time during our convo, you'll forgive me, yah?

But I hadn't seen the Grizz-comment when I was driving back home from work. I had my since-morning headache (still have it, in fact) and I thought "maybe it's a tumor. Maybe this is my last day on earth." and I wasn't afraid. Not even sad for the lost opportunities. I was just resigned to it. It's like, whatever. Goodbye struggle. Like I dodged a bullet, actually. The bullet of sexuality.

anyway, since I was not quite dead yet, I decided that today, I'm going back to that building. I'm going back to Riverside Drive. I'm getting past the security doors and I'm going IN.

AND I DID! Woo-HOO!

I will say something here that I am not saying there in the photo collection.

EDIT: I creeped myself out by posting the name of the molester. So I removed it. I guess some truths are a little too stark, even forty years later. Anyway, that's the door behind which everything changed.

These Friends Of Mine Pt. 2

So yesterday the group got together again and I proceeded as though nothing went down last week phonewise. I pretended that Grim had not disinvited me, I didn't blow them off and see Watchmen with myself and MFTD alone. Grim was shady for the first half hour, not making eye-contact, not reacting to group humor, and only minimally interjectng conversation. Yet he was there. Clearly because he wanted to be. And soon he untucked his tail from between his legs and everything was back to normal.

So Grim was guilty of something for sure, but it's hard to say exactly what. He knew that his phone message to me was the reason why they didn't see me last week, but I don't know if our other two friends knew what he had done. Did he tell them, during my absence? But if he did, clearly, it didn't effect them because they wanted to play and they were totally normal. I suspect Grim kept it to himself, since he was in hurt dog mode until I showed myself to be also unaffected (even though you know I totally was affected, dear readers).

Then eventually, I brought up the movie to find out if anyone liked it, and again there was silence until the girl of the group got back to us from feeding her dogs, and she launched into what she thought, which is what she normally does, for good or ill. Through her, Grim and the other guy started giving their feedback and that final territory was conquered. We discussed the movie as though nothing shady and antisocial had happened last week. We just happened to see it in different places.

These friends of mine.

But that's just the wrap up. The substance of this post does not lie in Grim. Rather, it lies in The Cop, who was my conduit last week for taking this avenue with Grim, instead of blowing this isht up. The Cop's advice wound up to be very good. I think Grim will know what I was prepared to do when he and The Cop conversate in depth, but as long as Grim acts like nothing happened, then I really don't care if he knows or not. I don't feel as obligated to Grim as I once did.

But the reason why The Cop got involved at all is because he had called me for advice, and after he and I processed his experiences, he then asked me how Grim was doing -- and then I spilled. But The Cop's dilemma was something actually very close to his heart and I was able to help him a lot. This I know because he told me so as soon as he arrived to the game and the group (late, but that's how The Cop rolls). He took me outside for a one on one and he poured out his heart, with tears in his eyes, to tell me how much my advice had helped him and how much I had come to mean to him, and how much respect and faith he had gained in my professional abilities. It was pretty amazing. I couldn't have written a script any better than that. What I wanted to know about myself, or the self-worth I want to have, could not have been answered any better.

This is the flavor of friendship that I thought I'd only achieve through the internet. Here where we can let our guard down without the fear of having to face those with whom our guard was removed. (Of course, personally, I've been wanting face to face with you, but I've since learned that it's not to be. The signals I give off seems to ring too many of your alarm bells. I'm pretty sure that I'll cause no harm, since I don't intend any, but there are only so many levels of vulnerability that you're willing to subject yourselves to. Face to face with me is too vulnerable for you. At least, that's how I console myself with those of you who I'll never get to meet. It may not be true, but it works for me. And it doesn't diminsh my affection for you either.)

But The Cop has wound up to be far more sensitive than I could have imagined. Tears in his eyes and HE asked ME for a hug. He's lost weight and HE asked ME if I thought he looked good. None of those articifces of male machismo in the way (except that he took me outside and away from the crowd to do it). He was very much, in fact, the way I want to be with him and the others, and am terrified of doing. (See? I understand about the vulnerability thing.)

I want to pour out my heart, let the tears stand in my eyes, pour down my face, get a hug from them, and tell them what I've been struggling with for -- oh let's just say all my life. I've done it with MFTD, but MFTD lives in frikkin CT and has a wife and a kid and two jobs and probably enough of me. But The Cop is a single guy who lives in NYC (successfully, might I add. Lives on his own in a nice apartment, dates regularly, and has a stable career). He might have time for me.

But this sexuality thing. It's no joke. Once I let this whirlwind out of the box, everything changes. These face to face friends might begin to relate to me as not just a strange geek who can't seem to get a date, but as a guy who appears for all intents and purposes to be a gay guy who keeps denying his sexuality. Which I might very well be. Which is my choice, unfortunate as it may be. But I'm just not brave enough to live any other way. And because of that, I need friends to support me. Both on the net and in my face to face life.

I'll surely let you know if The Cop turns out to be that friend.

Meanwhile thank you guys for also being friends, in whatever capacity I get to have you. I have been and will be grateful for everything.

Seriously.

:Rolleyes:

So. How surprised are we? What would it have been like if McCain HAD become President, and Palin HAD become the Vice President? The conservative church goers heartbreak would have rivaled the sound of the shot heard around the world.

This is why I've learned that it is an exercize in raw futility to vote politically along moral lines. God takes care of morality--in the hearts and minds of individuals. The majority vote of a nation cannot determine what's moral and what's immoral. Majority rule has NEVER been the deciding factor on what's moral. I mean, duh? Hello? Nazi Germany?

So Sarah Palin forcing her knocked up teenage daughter to become engaged to her knocker-upper just to win votes was politic hypocracy at its finest. I'm SO glad she didn't become the VP. This country has had enough laughing stocks to represent us across the world, don't you think?

These Friends Of Mine ...

So I'm on the outs again with Grim. Last Saturday night I told him and the group that I didn't know who I was going to see Watchmen with because I had a few groups of friends who were extending invites. Some of them are the New York Geeks, about whom I blogged when the New York Comic Con came last month and dinner and fun was had and pictures were taken. Another group is my longtime ago D&D group when we used to game in the building overlooking Central Park South (good times--until the DM had a hissy and kicked all of us out of his apartment one night, never to game again).

So there was the lure of new friends, the lure of old friends, and the comfort of current friends to choose from. Plus MFTD wants to see it with me too, so I invited him to come with me and as soon as I figured out which one one of these groups of friends. He said yes, which was cool. So which one to choose?

I decided on the current friends, which includes Grim, and informed them that MFTD was going to come so we needed a time and place--which we hadn't decided on yet (although the other friendgroups had).

Then this morning I get a phone message from Grim who said he had heard negative reviews from people who liked the original graphic novel so we should think about changing our plans.

And I'm like, what the hell? It's bad enough that he gets to decided what the group is doing, but now he's going to decide that the group is not going because HE heard negative reviews?!? What the hell are we, totally without our own brains?!?

So I called him back and got his message system, in which I informed him by voicemail that 1) Surely he's not making a decision based on what someone else thinks, and 2) jerking me around is one thing which I can handle, but it's not okay to jerk me and the friend I want to bring to the movie as well. AND another friend I was thinking of bringing.

And let me add here, ladies and gentlemen... I had also invited The Past Girl yesterday night to come with us on Saturday. It was another "friends' gathering" which she seemed most comfortable with before. I mean, I did have to try again, didn't I? When my courage came back? And she was receptive enough last night as we traded texts, but she ended up putting me off again and said she'd give me the answer today. Which I still haven't received. Which is just enough to tell me that she's too nice to tell me to stop asking her.

So yeah, I was pissed with life in general and with Grim and the power he kept asserting over me. I should never have chosen them to see the movie with. I should have known they'd yank the football away just when I was about to kick it. Or I should say GRIM would.

So I went to the gym and while I was busy, you know what happened? He called my phone and left the following message; "Consider yourself off the invite--you and your 'friends.' "

Ain't that a bitch? What are we, twelve????? He's effectively kicking me off the playground because 1) I differ with his opinion and 2) I have other friends than him?!? Are we THAT petty? Are we THAT immature?!? Why ... why yes, I think we ARE! Does he REALLY expect me to count on him alone for friendship when he's bound to say we all shouldn't go to a movie because HE heard negative reviews?!

GMAFB.

I'm not going to respond to his message. I'm not texting or emailing or anything. The next time "they" want to get together with me, Grim can be the one to approach me and tell me how he's made their minds up for them to re-invite me into the group.

But who the hell wants to be a part of a group like that anyway?

Not me anymore.

EFF them.

Big stupid bully.

And to think I once took HIS advice about how to be a friend! Just because he helped me move furniture twice and lent me a buttload of money, and is a mancrush of mine, doesn't mean I have to be his friend forever.

He owes me an apology. I want it. Or I'm OUT.

Bitter, Bitter, and Some Sweet

So night before last I had a beast of a dream. I was a part of an outing, kind of a sponsored bus trip, to some kind of mall outlet wonderworld. Like The Mall Of America. I must have gone with The Church because I was feeling like an utter stranger among people that I knew. People were all talking amongst themselves but not to me. I had taken up a familiar role of the weird kid.

There was a suspended cable ride through the Mall, like a ski lift, designed for two people, and while everyone paired off, I took my ride alone.

When we all got off the ride, Courtney Cox and Jennifer Aniston were having a small tiff about something that I couldn't quite hear. We were all trying to get some food from McDonalds when Jennifer left us and sat off by herself, with Courtney sitting on the same low wall as she, but quite a few feet away. They both looked so upset.

Then one of the kids our group told me what was going on. They had argued over me. Courtney already was married, but she was trying to convince Jennifer that I wasn't that bad. And just as her viewpoint was given by this snoopy little groupmember, Jennifer felt the need to defend herself. So she called above the crowd back to the snoop and to me, "Well maybe he wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have that sweaty, bald head and those ... black pants!" And when she said this, it caused our peers to laugh. Courtney came to my defense though and chased her yelled statement with "Well, I like you, Alan!"

My heart broke. I knew I could count on Courtney because she had always been my Friend. But I really loved Jennifer and had run out of ways to try to get her to notice me. And while Courtney was beautiful and supportive, she's MARRIED. It's always the beautiful, spoken-for ladies who makes you wish they weren't, ain't it? And the beautiful ones who never want you either?

So I got mad. I said something cruel to the kid who busted Jennifer's info on me, and then I got mad at everyone else. For always making me the stranger. Always making me feel like I should feel bad for imposing my weird self on the normals.

So in that instance I said to myself "Eff ALL of you." And without a glance back, I spread my arms, took a few steps, and took to the sky. I flew away from them all and didn't care what the consequences were going to be.

Then I woke up.

Patience Feels Like Fail

So I shot The Past Girl a text last Friday and there was no response ever since. And so, yes, I agree that I should keep chasing pavements and not stop with The Past Girl. But her lack of response means she's not interested. Not That Into Me. For whatever reason. Best case; She's not ready. Worst case; she's not interested in me.

And since me and Worst Case Scenario Man go so far back, let's wallow in that a little, say wot?

They're Just Not That Into You.

Which means I'm not the type that girls like. I don't bring the sexy. I outgeek all my geek buddies and heroes. I know so many geeks who are married and have kids. So Many. And I do mean the geeks who seem like geeks. Not the undercover geeks. Not the Geeks Who Can Pass For Straight.

So given the inability to be attractive enough to girls, the apparent answer seems to be to play for the other team. Easy for you to say. All you happily straight people reading this. All you unmolested folk who get to enjoy the lure of your genitalia without a society reprisal or message films that earn their actors Academy Awards because It's Important. You get to shag without worrying about representing a cause, defending a minority, taking on a mission, declaring a side, fighting social justice, and all the troublesome bullcrap that will. KILL. me. if I have to add their responsibilities to my already FUBAR'd life.

Go ahead and tell me that if you could flip a switch inside yourself and become homosexually inclined, (or rather driven) that you'd willingly do it. Tell me that. Go ahead. I DARE you.

Dammit, I'm so mad. I'm so angry. And lonely. Let's not forget that part.

But we must soldier on, mustn't we? And we shall.

I've got wonderful audio adventures to make and comicbooks to read. I've got ass to kick and names to take. I've got contributions to make.

Earth is stuck with me for another 40 years at least.