When I Need A Pick Me Up, by my friend Ryan King

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


Looking for emails to give permissions after I lock this blog down (just in case the Facebook causes some type of mad breach into my bloglife), and I found this post.

It's been slow going but I think I may have made a little more progress since then. Not much, I know. But a little.

More On This

Okay, for instance, right now I quite feel like a big rolling pile of steaming SHITE. At my workplace a client has screamed his misery to all the workplace and my interventions only made it worse. From that point I was to go into a meeting about him and recommend his removal from this program location where my office is. Which is how I got involved in the first place. Because my office is here and I have a meeting to go to at 1:30 and so my boss felt I should stay on deck, replace him, and advocate for the client's removal. Meanwhile this poor miserable bastard is screaming his throat raw and crying his eyes out, smashing his lunch to pulp and begging for everyone to Just LEAVE HIM THE UFCK ALONE.

And inside, I just could NOT agree with him more. In my heart of hearts I knew that if we all just let the man be, get off his back, allow him his period of readjustment to his broken schedule, he'd be FINE. Like he ALWAYS is. But no. Program Director and Administrators just can't tolerate it anymore. "Something has to be DONE." "We aren't serving his needs here anymore." "He's setting off all the others." Well, OKAY, maybe SO. But CHANGE is what triggers him and here you are suggesting that CHANGING HIS ENTIRE DAY, (ie travel time, site location, personnel, peers) is what he needs?!? And my boss wanted me to be a part of this?

So like the twelfth angry man on this jury, I just went along with the consensus. I faked words of support for the plan. Yes, I pointed out the risks of changing things on the client, but ultimately I caved to the pressure of essentially getting rid of the man. Like a good little clone, I did my job.


And so you see, this is the kind of outpour I need and putting that on Facebook just wouldn't do. I don't need people in my profession reading this. But that's just my job.

How and where can I post that my crush on Felicia Day could be the thing to save my hetereosexuality? My geek brethren read my expression of affection for her, and my gosh I do think she's amazing. But if I went on gushing about her on Facebook, but didn't complete my thought--which is--she may not trip my trigger, but with her I would learn. I would take the time. I would make love to her just because SHE wanted me to.

And then of course, I have to face facts, which I do here and cannot do on Facebook--how long could that last? Me making love solely for the other person? Not for myself? And is that fair to the other person?

Yeah. Not saying this on Facebook. Or Twitter. You guys who are here already--this is where you get The Rest Of The Story. Could you please keep this blog in your confidence? Please create no link bridges through your sites to this place here. Hate me if you must. Call me a hypocrite and a liar. But please don't kill me. Let me have my place where I vent, process, struggle. I need this place. I want you here. I need you here. Facebook is not where my heart is. Here is.

Now, to summarize;

I live on the lintel of The Closet. I'm comfy right here. I will express my crushes, my lusts, my whathaveyous, but I will not act on them. I am an Inbetweener. I would not wish this on a dog, but I'm here. On the day I decide that I'm out of the closet and in a relationship with a man--that will be the day I integrate all these areas of my life and let the chips fall. But I cannot--will not do that now. Because I have no one else BUT this right now. All I have are my geeks. They are my community. My support system. They are more vocal and more present than here. And it may so happen that I sacrifice this homosexual lifestyle to fit into the mould they have created for me. Just to keep their love. Yes, I would do that. I've BEEN doing that.

Because I need love. I'm human. I need love. In any form I can get it. I need it. And I'm not the least bit ashamed to say THAT, even if I'm ashamed to say all these other things.

Shit. I'm fighting for my fucking life here. Shit.

I'm Not Ready

So I found My Ned and My Scott and where they've gone and learned how I can go too. Facebook. Childhood Buds, I know you guys are going to kill me for not being motivated to join for you, but you are guys who I can call on the frikkin phone for Pete's sake. Ned and Scott are these millions-of-miles-away guys who, without knowing me prior to all this blogation, poured love and support all up in the mix. Love and support are addictive, I must say. Y'all got children and wife, so hopefully you know what love & support feels like (oh, and you got me), but for me--so, yeah.

So I joined Facebook. I used my mutant name instead of my gub'ment, and see, I told you I knew people. I told you I was popular in other places. I already knew that.

But they don't know all what goes on up in here. And as the friend requests came crashing into my email account by the dozens (damn Facebook sign-up process raping my e-mail addresses and setting me the eff up for TOTAL EXPOSURE) panic attacks ensued. Can they find this blog through my Facebook? People I friended know about this place--will they tell? Do they have links at their places which could lead the intrepid here?

And what's here that I want to keep so private? Well DUH?!! It's just so ufcking nice to know who you are isn't it? Just so very ufcking cozy to put up pictures of your wives, girlfriends, husbands, children--just spread your arms wide open and invite the world into your life with no shame, no guilt, no fear. Isn't life just so rosy and happy and shiny for you?

Now my ass gets pressured, cajoled, wheedled out in the harsh sunlight and ufck me if that sh!t doesn't BURN. People finding pictures of me and posting them on my site without so much as a by-your-leave. I turn around and there I am. Wink, smile, wave of fingers, first and last name put the ufck out on blast.

Why? Why the hell is it so important for people to get all into my stuff? People who are ALREADY my friends?

People, I have two clients who internet stalk. I can't have them finding that I'm a geek, I'm gay, I'm this, I'm that.

So NONE OF MY REAL NAMES ON MY DAMN FACEBOOK, okay? Don't MAKE me have to close that bitch down so soon.

ARGH!! Why am I so angry?!

And when I consider that okay, let's let everybody know everything. Let's drop all the walls. My emotions go UFCK YOU! Not everyone has the right to know! Not everyone has earned my trust! Not everyone has displayed the ability to accept and not judge! UFCK YOU if you think I'm going to set myself up for ufcking failure. Put myself in a position to me rejected by people I once held in my heart.

The more I type, the more I want to check out of Facebook. I love Scott and Ned, but I'm SO so much less secure than those guys. I have SO much less to show and SO much less to be proud of.

I should have followed my instincts. This shit is a trainwreck getting ready to happen.

Ufck me.

Thursday, August 13, 2009


In my previous post, I didn't mean it!! I didn't mean ANY of it! Oh please don't leave me! Please don't!!

Heh. Only half of that is true. In my last post I did mean it.

Tomorrow I'm going to put the rubber to the road on this one. I was spurred to write that post because of the recent falling out with Jester. Well Jester's friend and mine, My Cop Hero, wants to play peacemaker. The Cop's known Jester twice as long as I have, so he is Jester's greatest advocate. And I respect that. The Cop is also very fond of me. So he wants us all to be friends.

But I've decided, as have all of you at one time or another, that toxic friends are toxic. And that at this time of life, I need friends who can love me. Just like I am going to love them.

So tonight The Cop called and wanted to help me make up with Jester (because yes, I put it out there in our group messages that I was tired of it, and that I was taking a break. (Go Alan!) So I told The Cop that if he wanted o take on the role of peacemaker, then he was going to have to know why I'm tired of sparring with Jester and why I need more from friends (which will include The Cop, he will soon learn).

The Cop at first thought I was just going to lay Jester out, but I told him it had nothing to do with Jester. And ultimately, it honestly does not. It has to do with me living in constant fear of losing everyone and everything for "coming out of the closet." Irrational as that may be to you, dear reader, it is a very real fear to me. But thanks to the mostly silent Coaster Punchman these days, I started the list of worst-case scenarios and was able to put them into the light instead of the forever unknown nightmare dark. I started to be able to seriously consider it, both the benefits and consequences. Both the friends that would stay and the friends that would leave. It started becoming real.

So then I started telling people.

I told My Super Hero. (He stayed)

I told Childhood Bud II. (She stayed--and denied it for me)

I told my Geek Central buddy, and removed the vow of secrecy I swore him under. If anyone asks him, he can tell them. (Cowardy of me, but the advance here is that I don't want to deny it anymore. They suspect it, now let them know it for sure, even if I'm not the one to tell them. And if it REALLY matters to them, they can ask me directly.)

And tomorrow, I'm telling The Cop. And he can go tell Jester, and our other D&D geek buddies and I don't care anymore. I don't care no mo. I half want them to dump me. I like having my Saturdays free, and not having to go through the sparring and sarcasm deflection, and self-defense, and ridicule of my qualities and my profession, which I'm better at than anything else I do on planet Earth, with the Audio productions coming up a close second.

But the true part of my REDACTION is that my heart really doesn't want them to reject me. My heart is really sore from rejection. I miss the people I used to be friendly with and share words, thoughts, wishes, and encouragement with. They made me feel so good and so loved and now they are so gone. And this stings like a real bitch.

And maybe that's why I'm telling people about this sexuality now. Maybe I'm looking for the kind of love that won't fade away on me. Maybe the kind of love I'm attracted to is the only love I'm made for. The only love that will really make me happy. The kind of love that isn't faked. To be loved for me.

And if I'm going to get that love, then all the games have to stop. I have to be real if I want real love.

So let's just see what's what come Saturday morning, after the sh*t has hit the fan and the room is splattered.


I need a better analogy.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The Friends I Want

So yeah, I tweeted again about some jive mess Jester put me through last night. Snarking at me, ridiculing my sensitivity, bullying the group to play without me while I struggled to get my system up to snuff. Just a bastard. A big bully.

So I realized what I want from my friends. I want friends who will listen. Friends who will lend an ear when I need one. Friends who can empathize and who care. Friends who respect my choices. Who are honest with their feelings, be they positive or negative, but in all manner of communication, affectionate and respectful.

If you're looking to be a friend of mine and cannot meet these requirements then you need not apply. Because I'm shouldering a F*CK TON of weight on the daily. I'm struggling with middle-age, my weight, my failing eyesight, my career which consists of two jobs, plans for pursuing a PhD, loneliness & sexuality, religion & God. Among some of the more minor details.

And let me tell you, it's not all about me me me. Because I offer the same things AS a friend. This is who I have become. I get real joy out of matters of the heart. It might be vicarious living since I'm not able to enjoy it for myself. But there it is. And there I am. And YOU get the benefit. I'm patient, I listen, I care. I can be used for this. I'm made for this. It's one of the clearest things I understand about myself and I experience it every time I'm walking up Central Park South toward the train station or my parked car, leaving a good therapy session. I'm GOOD at this, because I love it.

And that's not to say I'm a big blubbery mess or 100% goosh. I can be sarcastic, cutting, and I'm a hell of a lot of fun at parties (or so I've discovered over the last few years).

So yeah. People who will let a great guy like me slip through their fingers? You never did deserve me anyway. SEEya! (See? Cutting. I Kan Doo Eet!)

It's middle age, I tell ya. I'm on the other side of my life now. I need to be setting up for retirement and leaving this world. I need to make sure I'm secure, both materially and emotionally. If no woman's going to marry a less than manly man such as myself, and if I can't get the world or religion to treat me right if I link my life with a dude that I might dig, then I gotta make sure that I at least cushion the blow of aging & dying with friends I can trust.

And that's what's going on.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

And I Thought I Was STRAIGHT?!

Mother & Son Plus Some
Look at me in my turtleneck. No WONDER I never got laid!! God what a joke. Clearly I am now and have always been insane. And obviously gay.

Anyway, I got this picture from my Aunt, who I told y'all about in June. As she had described, she put together a tribute DVD to her brother Marduke and now I have a copy of one, so I captured a lot of screenshots and posted them as Flick'r pics. I tell a story in those pics, and some other, more upbeat self-discoveries at Flick'r so you might want to go give those a scan. In summary, it turns out that I'm a lot more proud of my family than I thought I'd be.

I went to see my aunt last night to make good on the promise I made her before I went off to the comics convention and Ned. Eliel, perk up--SHE LIVES (and has lived since the 70's) TWO BLOCKS FROM CARLTON AVENUE. She owns a brownstone that is EXACTLY like your old one in architecture. And I do mean exact, as in the steps are on the same side of the house, etc.

Eliel, when I went to visit you those times, my aunt was withoin walking distance all along. And not only that, but in the 70's she was able to purchase a brownstone, and she's been raising two boys in it for 30 years. Now, as you know Eliel, the neighborhood has become one of those trendy gentrified Brooklyn nabes. And my aunt is sitting pretty. I had no idea. Not many other, if any, can say they are as successfully adult as this aunt of mine. And I'm SO glad to be able to have another connection to that neighborhood because I was starting to REALLY dig it before you moved out of there, Eliel. Still mad at you for that!

Anyway, visiting my aunt turned out to be the best case scenario. She welcomed me as though I'd never left. Just like her mother did when I lived in Harlem the first time (happy to say, I found the original post where I mention her mother, and her brother Marduke). And she's doing better than me, but I'm doing okay as well, which means I can visit her again and there will be no agendas between us. I won't be trying to sponge off her, she won't be trying to sponge off me.

The only wrinkle right now is that I haven't disclosed my last ten years to her. Last she knew, and I reconfirmed that her memories are true, that I went out to Missouri to become a preacher. So she wants to know what church I "go" to. I tell her the last church I attended, but not the fact that I haven't gone back in years and that I'm trying to first come to terms with being "Big Gay Al" before I find a new church to start visiting/attending.

But this woman has seen me growing up. She knows I have no girlfriend now, in my forties. She HAS to know that I'm not straight. And I want to have that talk with her. I want the love of family in my life again, as I am now.

And it seems like I'm going to have it.

If my aunt accepts me ... well ... a gift of God, is what that is. And even if I'm NOT straight, God might still be working in my life.

Which is really REALLY okay with me.