Thursday's Kiss

There wasn't one.
Haha.

Riverside Stroll

Didn't mean to discover a free concert on one of the Riverside Park piers, but did.
Didn't mean to happen upon a couple of boys kissing on the park bench, but I did.
Didn't mean to get wistful about spending the rest of my life alone.
Didn't mean to be gay.
Didn't mean much of anything.
But here we are.

Another Job Well Done

Therapy is awesome. It's an amazing, life-affirming process.

I was going to go to a pretty well-known center here in NYC to get some therapy for myself...until I realized it was a little TOO well-known. One of my clients goes there. I don't know how regularly, but the way my life goes, it'll be on the day I go.

The People Whisperer

I can't watch a convincing portrayal of an Asperger's Syndrome person without identifying with them. I've done this before, blogged about myself in terms of my possible diagnosis. Well, here we go again. I don't think I've detailed how much I think I'm like Abed on NBC's Community, but of course, I am. Now there's a new autistic character on Syfy's ALPHAS who I'm much less alike than I am like Abed...and mind you, I'm not as monotone as Abed is. Not as grandly "different" (and entertaining) but ... I sit outside of people's experiences and look in and THAT'S the common thread that I feel with all the autistic characters, severe or otherwise, that I see on TV & movie screens.

I choose to believe that this lends me some skill in a bunch of areas. I think, for instance, that I'm a good writer because I pay attention to my observations. I also think I'm a good therapist because I can read a lot of the cues in voice, body language, and language-choice use. Those are good skills to have, right?

Of course, the drawbacks are phenomenal. Obviously. The drawback = a disorder. That's why it's got a label, or is given "syndrome" as a last name. Having this thing that makes me different has limited my life in major ways.

So let me share with you what this syndrome looks like from inside of my head looking out; "If I don't feel safe, I don't do it."

Sounds simple, right? Doesn't even sound like a disorder. Ah, well no ... the basic principle is not the disordered part. The basic principle is survival instinct. It has helped bring us through the millenia as a viable species.

No, the level I take this instinct to is what makes it a disorder. When I can't figure out a thing in order to make my world a safe place, I avoid that thing. And so, I think my adaptation has caused be to be able to figure out people in a way to foster safety for myself. People aren't so scary if I can quantify them and explain their behaviors to myself. When you're bullied in elementary school on up, you find that a real necessary skill for survival.

But what I haven't been able to figure out is this whole sexual terrain. I haven't been able to regulate the information of sex. I haven't had morality explained to me well enough to accept it.

Now, I did TRY to get it figured out when I went to extreme religion at 16. I took all the information in, hook, line and sinker. I made it my instructions for life operation. And it woorked for a good while. Kept me nice and cozy and gave me a safe place to live-- until my sexual urges stopped fitting into that framework.

Now 30 years later, I haven't found a suitable replacement for the lost information. I'm gay. So how does THAT work? Butt sex? Really?? Where there's FECES??? How can THAT be right???

But I can't even pretend that's the biggest hang-up I've got. (It's possibly #3 on the Top Ten though). My biggest hang-up is to figure out how to be safe in the entire Emotionally Vulnerable spectrum of life. How do you let guards down and trust people and believe they will be for you, and not use your vunerability to crush your life away? How do you get to that level? How do *I*??

Just saying "hello" to the sexually attractive creature right next to me at the gym feels like a leap off the Niagra Falls. How then do I go any further than that? How do I live homosexually? How do I align my life with all the sexual freedom-fighters putting themselves of the front lines?? How do I assume those risks??

In the absence of understanding how, I have actively NOT. By "actively" I mean that my brain has found me ways of compensation on a superpowered level. I can find scapegoats, blockers, reasons and excuses enough to pardon Hitler from Hell, much less keep me out of this battle.

And it all boils down to this; "If I don't feel safe, I don't do it."

Sex is my Last Frontier. I've never done it beause it has never seemed safe. I blog and I blog and I prod into my friends' lives and I tease and I wheedle and I cojole and I flirt and I do everything I can to get this information from people both real and imagined ... and I've barely scratched the surface.

Sex is not quantifiable. Sex is unknowable and unknowing. Sex is irrational and primitive. Sex is a farce. It's a panacea. It's a lifeline. It's humanity's binding force. It's a paradox. It's a lifebringer. It's our species' only manner of survival. It's our species' greatest curse.

I don't know it. I don't know anything about it.

I don't want it.

I won't do it.

I want to do it.

Eating Alone

I used to love it. Get my book and read and eat, and zone out and be left alone. But when I wanted to go out with company, I couldn't find any. So I went alone. It felt MUCH different. It felt lonely and like I had somehow failed in a job I had.

When did I stop being okay with being by myself?

Did You Know I'm A Vegan Now?

Not really. I don't actually align myself with the philosophy, nor have I resigned myself to a life without meat, but today certainly marks a week without it. Veggies, seasoned and flavored, thick and juicy, make for wonderful substitutes. If I can sink my teeth into them and chew it like meat, and if it fills my stomach like meat, then I'm satisfied. Each meal.

I'm doing it for weight loss. The worst reason EVER right? But I want abs, and my new identity as a runner hasn't taken me there all the way yet, so I trying something new. If I see my abs like I want, then I could get used to it.

I want abs.

On Saturday He Gets Drunk

Or at least, as drunk as I allow. A quarter of a pint of Jack Daniels mixed in with Coke. Makes me lightheaded. Fun to feel.

It Did Happen

I left the house well before 4:30 today.

I just had to get my workout on. I had to put it on myself, peel and squeeze these last ten lbs out.

Slowly but surely.

Too Darn Hot!

Actually, just hot enough to keep me in the house until 4:30pm.

People Enough

Tell me how this is possible...how does a person encourage someone else to power through their pain and the bone-deep throb of rejection when they themselves have spent all of their life avoiding the exact same thing? How does a person tell a homosexual man that "it gets better" when he himself is a homosexual man who is too terrified to find out the truth of that statement for himself?

I said this July might be the month that I came out of the closet but I'm sure I lied. I've told people close to me, and even told one guy who now will not be my friend because of some petty disagreement we had -- so I've taken some risks with some questionable characters. I just don't seem to be willing to do it with ALL OF THEM.

But I feel such conviction for my clients. I believe such good things for them. I believe they have strength I haven't seen yet. I believe that no matter how hard it will grow for them, they will persevere because that's what we do. I believe that they have me and will have others step into their lives to help them carry their load when it grows heavy enough to crush them. I believe all that is true, except ... In my own case.

I'm wrong of course. If what I believe is true then it's true for ALL of us. If what I think is possible, it's possible because we MAKE it so. We do it for each other because WE want to. Where I must fail is because I don't believe that there will be people enough for me.

Will there be people enough for me?

Today's Therapy Session Created Tomorrow's Post

Wibbily wobbily, timey-wimey.
#timetravelinghindsightforeknowledge

Heat Wave

Finally arrived. "NYC Bakes, The World Takes."

Downsides; Forced to go out in that heat to meet a client who never showed.

Upsides; Bought some noise-cancelling earphones and so will therefore be fantastically sheltered from now on from the noisy antics on the subways.

Days Off RULE

The sun was a litttttle bit too warm today so I waited until 6-ish to go get my workout on and then do this; http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/42035716/



I guess it's true that sometimes a midlife crisis can result is some pretty good changes. Good thing I don't have a wife or any kids to walk out on.

A Nap Does Wonders

Started out the day with a home visit turned into a scenic outing, which was nice, but it saw me walking too much under the warm-to-hot sunshine. 3 hours later, I found myself drained like kelp. I curled up on the subway back home and slept.

People, don't set a goal to sleep on the subway. The subway is not your friend. And no, I'm not talking about the possibility of a friendly neighborhood rat nuzzling your chin (the subject of a YouTube film that I refuse to watch, let alone post here). Nor am I refering to the chance that someone will roll you and take your shit while you sleep. Too many pissed-off New Yorkers on any given train to allow that to happen, I'm sure. I honestly trust my fellow NY'ers. We've jumped on subway tracks to help people, dammit. We're good people.

BUT!! I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've rode a train WITHOUT someone coming through the car blaring at the top of their lungs that they're "Sorry to bother you ladies and gentlemen and I do apologize for the inconvenience but..." to which they go on to tell of their misfortune. Or they proceed to play music I wouldn't buy myself for a $0.99 download, then charge us all for the performance. Or they'll dance and flip and clap and bang the car ceiling, turning the subway into the circus. Or they'll want to sell me stolen Welch's Fruit Snacks (where the hell else did they get them from?). Every time I try to catch a wink on the train, I leave angrier than I was when I got on. It's a problem.

However, yesterday the trip home was one of those exceptions. Saturday afternoon around 1 seems to be a buffered zone. Perhaps the homeless, hungry, street-dancing people of New York are on their lunchbreaks. But the nap was such that I was able to get home, cook me some lunchtime food, lie down for another respite then feel revived enough to GO BACK OUT ON THE TOWN BEFORE THE SUN WENT DOWN!

It was no big deal, really. I went to the high-profile candy store at 60th and 3rd Avenue for a sweet fix and ate substandard ice cream. I should've had ColdStone.

But leaving there, I took the Lexington Avenue line downtown in a protracted "I want to be out on the town" mood, and was overtly flirted with by a dude with a nice tan and golden body hair. I couldn't help stare at the hue of his legs. He looked like a benign tiger with no stripes. He was a little fidgety to begin with, which is how I noticed him (I can catch sight of a fly moving across a subway platform, trust me. I'm kind of hypervigilant that way. It's not always fun). Then our eyes met. He fussed with his arms, (the same light-bronze color as his legs, covered in soft golden down) and then took some either real or imagined long hair off his skin that a woman must have left. Being as I had someone next to me applying her makeup, this made me laugh. We exchanged a "I know right? These WOMEN" look. Then he kept trying to lock my eyes again.

At that point, I was out of the race. He really wanted something from me and I knew I wouldn't be delivering, so I kept turning my eyes away. That was quite the experience. Been a long time since I was the object of someone's lust like that. (Unles Faux Leonardo yesterday at the gym was giving it a try). But I knew that until I come out of the closet and reconcile the complete me with the world, I'm not going to be confident enough, or man enough, to treat an interested dude right.

So I let him go.

This time.

5 Miles

Friday was a phenomenal day. The house visit took place in a part of NYC that I think had it's design heyday in the 60's. You go into the lobbies of the buildings and you're walking into the set of "MADMen," "Catch Me If You Can," or this season's new "PanAm." I like it.

After I was dohe with that, I had the rest of the whole day free. So, naturally, I went to the gym and got my pump on. I'm now able and happy to run 5 miles instead of 3. (3 miles of straight running was quite the accomplishment when I did it, let me tell you.) It just takes me 40-50 minutes and sometimes I don't want to be on the treadmill for that long. I'd rather run out on the west Riverbank of Manhattan or in Central Park if I'm going for distance.

But the gym. How I do love that place. I've heard it called "Gay Church" from a gay man. Which, hey, I ain't mad at it. But I do wish the congregation where a bunch less shy than they are.

It's pretty clear that a lot of the straight men in gyms atre terrified of being though of as gay and are pretty insecure about their masculinity. Isn't that why we're all trying to max out our masculine appearance? But being that the case, it sure makes it hard to figure out which straight-appearing guys ARE gay! (As if I'd do anything if I knew!)

Regardless, I went back to a gym location that I hadn't seen in months, back when I was about 20 lbs heavier. I recognized some of that gym's regulars, including this one dude who seemed to favor hairgel a little too much. But he also appeared to make gains in his workout routine and I must say he had a DYNAMITE chest this time around. He's kind of Leonardo DiCaprio-ish without the big round head and female mouth. I liked his swagger. Again, it's no big thing because I won't/don't do anything with guys I'm attracted to at gyms. I just look.

Thing is, I noticed Faux Leonardo was looking too. Mind you, not just at me, but looking around--the way I do. When I notice that, I always imagine that Looker is just like me. Attracted to men but unable to make a connection. The presence of hairgel seemed to support that theory.

But what a sexy, tight, stout, hairy chest he had. Makes me want to go back again and again.

Until, of course, I see the next amazing guy at the next gym location.

Trust me, every gym has one.

While The Cat's Away

Did I mention that my roommate's out of town? Or I should say my "landlord." Because he's both. He's also a world-traveling band conductor and a mathematic savant who started a curriculum in quantum physics until he followed his passion for music performance. He practices day and night when he's home and we live in a small 3 room /1 bath/1 kitchen (no dining room, no livingroom) apartment, but what you're not going to believe is that I love it.

When he's playing, it's like the soundtrack of my life playing in the background. It's like I'm the principle player in an arthouse film.

But don't get me wrong, I don't miss him. He's not in any physical shape that I lust after. We aren't friends because we don't have that much in common. And even with the things we DO have in common, he's a bit socially awkward and doesn't really know how to share conversation space. Most times that we talked, he just kind of owned the convo and announced everything without listening. (I've witnessed that when he's on the phone at times.) But hey, I have to give him money every month to stay here, so there's no need to complicate that relationship as far as I'm concerned. The power differential prevents friendship. Much like the therapist/client relationship.

But being here alone this week has reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally made me remember how much I need to be my own man again. Living not in a room, but in my own place. My own space.

Do it.

Dooooooooo it.

Tripping The Rift

Buckle up, TARDIS crew! We need to revisit the days we missed!

VWOOOORP!! VWOOORRRP!! VVVVWWWOOOORRRRPPP!!!!

Hello Wednesday! Yeah, this was a day when I only had one house visit and then the rest of my day was free. No wonder I didn't blog! I spent the day nothing a lot of happy nothing!

I did spend some quality time being jealous of rich white people, if that helps. See, I did my house visit in a nice part of the city, where if you live there, you ain't doin it on the cheap. And I'm always wondering what people do to make this crazy money to live where they live in this city. How does one afford to pay $4000/month rent? Or, more absurdly, afford to buy a condo with a mortgage of possibly $2-3000/month and THEN pay monthly carrying charges/maintenance fee of $900-$2000 forever??

And more importantly, would I do it if I could afford it?

I can begrudge the rich white people, but why bother? Why spend the energy? To begin with, all white people aren't rich. And secondly, all rich people aren't white. And thirdly, I know what I have to do to bring more money into my life, and I'm not doing it at the moment so I have no right to be mad at anyone. I need to be mad at the dude in the mirror who won't get his shit together.

And I won't do that EITHER. Haha.

I Did Good Today

I love being a therapist. I love going in with people to find the logjams that has them stuck. I remember when I attended my first few sessions as a client and how I watched the guy in the chair wanting at any second to just go hug him and hold onto him for dear life.

I'm saying I always understand why people come to see me. I always know that feeling. I'm always giving it my all to answer their needs. I always respect them and love their process.

Today was one of those days that makes me remember why I do this.

People ROCK.

Procrastination Redefined

Today I spent a majority of my 'free time' doing work I could have and should have done in the last two weeks. In addition to the office sessions I do as a therapist, I also visit those with Traumatic Brain Injuries at their homes. In order to get paid, I have to enter the session's note through the computer to an online scheduling system. It's a nifty little tool. Right after each session, I have the ability to right the note as I'm transporting away. This is a reason why I bought an iPad. Talk about a lightweight, ridiculously 21st Century tool! The kids in the 1940's would go into catatonic shock if they ever saw this thing. Either that or become Issac Asimov.

But in that last two weeks, I didn't want to do anything but read comics as I left the sessions. I was tired. So, I paid for it yesterday.

I often define procrastination as the thing perfectionists do because we don't want to get it wrong when we try it. So we don't try. Then when the deadline "sneaks" up on us, we are forced to "just do it." That extra burst of "Oh shit, I gotta get this done" juice seems to either open up our intellect to perform outstandingly, or else it gives us the perfect excuse to accept a performance rating that comes in less than perfect. We can say "well, I let it go to the last second, so no wonder I got a lower score. Oh well." And somehow that makes us feel better about not being perfect. What ISN'T acceptable is if we take our time, use all the resources offered us to complete a project, and THEN get a low score/review.

Games people (LIKE ME) play.

How complex.

Unexpected Consequence

My 4th of July Central Park run netted me with a sunburn on the back of my neck. I had no idea what it was until I but two and two together. Pricky, itched, tender to the touch, and the only part exposed under the sun for an hour on a hot day.

BOOOO!

I thought the melanin in my cocoa brown skin was supposed to take care of that ish? I guess I'm whiter than I thought! Certainly I'm not as black as some have wished me to be, so I should have known!

So there goes the idea of me running shirtless! Plus, not *quite* there yet. Now I have two good excuses to wait until Autumn. It'll still be warm enough, and by then I should be all ripply.

Never too late!! Never too old!!