May 12/08 What Would Jesus Do? (1)

Posted 12 May, 2008 in a wee tale

Yesterday I was reminded about a story I had long forgotten about.

Years ago in Winnipeg, while cleaning the kitchen in my Corydon Ave and Stafford (the area that is referred to as Little Italy, with emphasis on little) extremely cheap apartment, I received a phone call.

These were the days before everyone had call display or with a quick *67 find out who just rang you up. It was the good old days when you could call anonymously with no apprehension.

And anonymously was the call I received that afternoon.

“Hello….”

My greeting was silence.

“Hello?….” You know the hello that is pronounced in a way that communicates, “Who the fuck is this and what the fuck do you want?”

But this time I could hear some breathing that peaked my curiosity.

“So what’s going on?”
“Nothing” I hear a male voice say on the end.

“So what are doing?” I ask, as I put down the mop and sit down at the kitchen table wearing my cleaning clothes, the ones that if you saw me any other time and in any other context, you probably think I’d be homeless.

“Umm……”

“Are you playing with your cock right now?”

“Ya, I am.”

“Well, I want you to stroke it up nice and hard for me…..” I politely ask as I cross my right leg over the left covering the hole exposing my knee.

“It is….”

“That’s a good boy, now what are thinking of? My cock too?”

“Ya….”

“Good, now think about it in your mouth getting bigger and bigger..”

“Oh yaah…

Needless to say I don’t have to carry on the rest of the conversation for you. There I was looking like a hag, in the middle of mopping the floor on a Sunday afternoon and some guy calls me, and all I could think of was:

It’s Sunday, What would Jesus do?

And in a selfless act of benevolent kindness, I got him off.

Rather giving of wouldn’t you say?

Once he came, I put down the phone, grabbed the mop, and without giving it much more thought, I went back to mopping my floors.

May 08/07 Registration deadline for Mexico 2008 has passed, do you know where your childred are? (7)

Posted 8 May, 2008 in ramblings, traveling on my road

Wonderful, I’ve got two candidates for to get blown, any others? Actually I always loved that line “Who do I have to suck off to (fill in the blanks). It’s an attention grabber, that’s for sure.

In all honesty cocksucking for me is a religious experience. Consider it a gay variation of taking Communion. Although I’m not Catholic, however, it does conjure up many images.

I’m not sure what I’d declare myself when it comes to religion. I was brought up in a Protestant, United Church. Well, my mom tried unsuccessfully. During the Vietnam war she took me to church and afterwards I declared to my mother, “I don’t believe anything in the Bible, there are photos to prove any of it. Anybody could have written it.” Then I’d run away from Sunday school; mom eventually gave up.

To quote Madonna from American Life, “I’m not a Christian, I’m not a Jew.” At the Kabbalah Centre when I’m asked if I’m Jewish, the implication is then I’m Christian if not Jewish. This is not true either. I do believe there was probably a spiritual teacher at that time, most likely a slightly delusional, or more aptly put, those who followed were delusional.

Through Eckhart Toll, and seeing his interpretations of some of the lines in the Bible, I can see that if one goes beyond the literal there is wisdom there. Does that mean I believe he turned a piece of bread into a dozen loaves of Wonder Bread? Not really.

I love the book that Oprah brought to my, and many other’s attention, A New Earth. Books are not my thing, I struggle to get myself to read. It is not within my nature to rush out to buy a book just because Oprah has put it on her book list.

By page ten, I was captivated. As he writes, you are either ready for this, or you won’t get it all. I was getting it, big time as it has the basic tenant of all spirituality. Thus, 12 stepers declaring, “It’s just like the steps!” And the Kabbalists with “It’s just like Kabbalah!”

So many get spiritually so fucked up in their head as if it were some imposing judgmental doctrine imposed on you while sitting in a Church or where ever. In reality is about what happens within oneself, our state of consciousness individually and collectively. In the spirituality I learn and practice, the imposing judgment I receive is from myself, not others. In fact I learn to not give a shit about other’s judgment — not always so easy. It is about working on my own consciousness and what the brings to my life.

A New Earth, works a lot on the “now” and how to stay in it. How to create Presence.

Recently a friend of mine who is reading it tells me he is struggling with this book. It is so much work from him to read it. He gets it theoretically but doesn’t know how to put it into practice expecting that he is going to have this magical awakening, and it isn’t happening.

What he doesn’t realize is that this work is like going to the gym. You have to be at it consistently with a new awareness, and it doesn’t happen over night. There are successes, and then there are the learning experiences where we may not classically define as success. However it there is something to be learned or new awareness is created, is it a failure at the end of the day.

Now, enough seriousness, back to cocksucking! Any other takers:)

May 07/08 My Body Keeps Changing My Mind (4)

Posted 7 May, 2008 in ramblings

[cock pussy cunt snowballing fucking balls bottom top S&M piss virgin cumhole]

I just thought if I put some keywords in to see if I get some interesting hits. I’m starting to wonder, “Who do I have to suck off around here to leave a comment?:)”

What to report on to today? I’ve still yet to write my perverse daddy story for this Boston boy. That’s my homework. What kind if literary treat will I have in mind? I have to be inspired, I just haven’t been in the mood for KFC over the last 24 hours. I’m sure I can muster something up to make him happy.

For the first time in my life, I’m happy that I’ve lost weight. After spending most of the first portion on my life desperately wanting to can weight it feels kind of weird. I’d have to say something all the time in hopes that I could head off any comment on how skinny I was. My normal weight at the time was 135 pounds at close to six feet.
“If I could only gain 20 pounds I could do Karen Carpenter in drag.”

“I can never go to Ethiopian restaurants because they call me waiter.”

“I could never own a Greyhound because people wouldn’t know who to give the cookie to first.”

“I’m the first Caucasian Care Package Poster Child.”

When I went to speak at schools in the 80s and early 90s about HIV and living with it, I could read their faces, and they were saying:

Of look at that poor guy. Look what it’s done to him. I wonder what he used to look like before he got “it.” He was probably about 190 pounds six months ago.

The funny part is that I’d tell them that I knew that they were thinking that and laugh. I then proceeded to explain you can’t judge people by how they look.

Today with the drugs, the weight just goes to that famously patted stomach of mine. The one former supreme court judges couldn’t resist about which I’ve obsessed for quite some time.

My weight is 168 -169 and I am quite happy. I’d even be happy with 165. A weight that someone (muscle steroid-driven guy) I know, who if could be any more shallow would simply become a flat surface, proclaimed he’d kill himself if he ever weighed that amount again.

Well bring out razor blades out because I rather be well toned and lean than have roid rage, aspire for something that is unattainable thus denying who I am with ever repetition of weights or steroids I take.

It’s hard to believe I was once 200 pounds.
Looks like I figured out what to write about today.

May 6/08 Daddy Dearest (0)

Posted 6 May, 2008 in ramblings

There are several markers I’ve learned of growing older. One is the response of “You look good!” when you state your age. I’m still not exactly sure when that started happening, or for when it ended for that matter!

The other is getting contacted by younger men on the internet. At first I wanted nothing to to with someone who was in their 20s. “Too much training!” I’d say while puffing on an imaginary cigarette to friends.

However there has this daddy thing starting to rear its head.

The first time in a role play scenario was when I was over at the guys place with a friend over (the one that ended smoking crystal in front of me and I had to say bu-bye).

“Ya, I want some of that daddy cock….” and so on and so forth.

I just went with the flow, until the drugs came out.

I recently went on this site (here’s another one for you Butchie — Daddyhunt.com) thinking, you know maybe meeting someone close to my age or old is the way to go.

But what I ended up getting was younger guys messaging me. I began chatting with this 21-year-old.

This is what happens when I start back up on Andro Gel, the testosterone gel. After a couple messages I wrote out this long message of what I’d do to a boy like him. At the end I gave him homework to write me an email about his first daddy fantasy, and some more photos.

He complied. Sitting there with a raging hard on, I read this email not knowing if I was bordering on perversion or the thought of corrupting the appearance of innocence was becoming a new territory for me.

Anyway, if you’re going to shave your head (I have taken a number one to my head with a very small mohawky thing, I call it a bohawk (baby mohawk - it’s not faux, those I call Fawks) and be in my 40s.

May 5/05 Oprah is my higher power. (0)

Posted 5 May, 2008 in ramblings, recovery

“AA is for quiters!” Ida Slapter proclaims as she grabs a sip out her cocktail glass about five times the size of a normal martini.

This Texas drag queen working at The Palm (now called something else after going being on the show “Gay Bar Makeover” which means they changed the tables and the chairs, and may have painted) was one performers I loved to see when I was there, even if I knew all material.

Who ever fucking knew that AA would be a place I’d call home. It still sounds weird. I literally went there because there was a convenient time on Sunday not too far away where I get hit up a meeting instead of NA.

What I found was a community who really cared. That is not to say the others don’t. But they don’t have the same numbers of members, at least in Toronto. The result is that there are gay and gay positive meetings through out the week, not just one “special” meeting where if lucky 15 people showed up.

That meeting happened to be on Saturday, and after doing Shabbat, the last thing I want to be around is that energy of that meeting. I did that once, and for the first time ever, within ten minutes I wanted to run out of the meetings. I realize now it was sucking all the light out of me.

Even in NA, I still felt out of place. I believed that this was part of the condition of all of us, no matter where we were we felt we didn’t fit in. But here not only do I feel like I fit in, I feel like I’m creating family. I’ve never had that here, with the exception of those who works in the HIV advocacy work. As soon as stepped out of that world, I no longer had any sense of community.

It really is a gift. I now have a sponsor who I love to death. He is the complete opposite of the first attempt at a sponsor. A wonderful man, but we didn’t have that connection.

I will end with one thing that I got out of the Eckhart Tolle book, who came to me from my Higher Power: Oprah.
What you believe the world is withholding from you is really what you are withholding from yourself. Once you begin to give to others what it is that you need, you will begin to receive all that has been believed to have been withheld.

May 4/08 From meeting to meeting. (0)

Posted 4 May, 2008 in ramblings

My Sunday routine is to go to the 12:30 meeting and have brunch afterwards. This usually means about half a restaurant is taken over with coffee drinking, non-hung over folks which can be a lot of fun. At times though it can be overwhelming, especially when one’s blood sugar begins to drop real low.

Afterwards I’ve agreed to meet someone from Dudenude. I have absolutely no expectation, nor investment in this meeting. Part of me feels like I just can’t be bothered. What the hell, let’s get myself out doing something that I don’t do all the time. One thing though is that I’m confident I won’t be seeing any crystal pipes or GHB viles.

Wish me luck.

May 3/08 Like a Moth To A Flame (0)

Posted 3 May, 2008 in Uncategorized

This seems to be the theme of the last two weeks when it comes to people who are using, and/or damaged from active drug/alcohol use.

In Kabbalah, it is said the closer you get to the light, or the more connected you are to the light, the stronger the challenges become.

It must be no coincidence that around my one-year anniversary that suddenly drugs/alcohol and its dysfunctional behaviour has been entering my world.

This afternoon, I received a call from someone new in the program. When the call came in I was laying down, so I let it go to voicemail so I could hear the message being left. About 30 seconds went by before I realized it was someone from the program and immediately clicked into the call.

In my mind I thought I was being called by someone who needed to talk, reach out in some way. However, it was post use, as about 30 minutes, and this poor fellow was simply horny and most likely wanted have have cock that any talk.

I should be flattered as he is very cute. My reaction at first was just to make sure he was ok, not anxious, freaking out or anything. Once I knew he was ok, I assured him he could call me anytime as long as he wasn’t using.

Breaking that cycle can be so hard, Afterwards I felt compassion for him.

A minute later I called another friend in the program and bitched that he wasn’t clean and sober for over a year and calling me with the news he was horny.

That may have been an entirely different matter.*

*That was in jest, I’m very cautious when mixin sex with people with whom I share the rooms, and those who live in my building, even though I’ve made one exception.

May 2/08 Life goes on during a dreary day. (0)

Posted 2 May, 2008 in canine moments, ramblings, travel, traveling on my road

As it turns out the money that would have been used for me to go to Rwanda will be helping someone from there get to the Mexico City conference. I like that idea. So by fixing myself, as they say in Kabbalah, I have helped someone else.

But it’s hard, it’s like giving up crack (the drug, not the other kind of crack) for the first time. The voice in my head is still ringing: I WANNA GO!

Really though, to travel 20 or more hours to spend a week and a half and turn around and do it all over again is not as much fun as you think, especially when someone like myself gets so worn out so easily traveling.

My doggy is feeling much better, getting up on the couch etc. The anxious dog is in a crate beside me and it took about 40 minutes to get him to at least lay down. He still trembles, but I guess it’s progress. Someone had given me the suggestion of putting a shirt of something of mine I’ve worn in there for my scent, so now he’s one my shirt. This is going to be a long slow process. He’s on the full does of anti-depressants, which also act as an anti-depressant.

I’ve even tried this class of drugs, it turned me into a complete Francis Farmer, and I had to do an interview the next day, thank god the didn’t air it. One of Jerry’s kids would have been more animated than I was.

Yesterday I was able to let go of something that was really bringing me down. A voice suddenly rung in my head of someone sharing at a meeting that sometimes all he needed to do was to tell himself to simply “get over it.”

As soon as I heard that voice, it was lifted. I was no longer giving my power away to a stupid situation, and that was it.

I guess you get what you need when you need it, because if someone had actually said that to me, well, let’s just say, it wouldn’t have been too helpful.

May 1/08 A drug that is hard to give up. (1)

Posted 1 May, 2008 in ramblings, travel, recovery

There is a certain malaise that is falling upon me. I’m not sure what it is. It may be that I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.

Now that I am back from Montreal, I have finally made a decision that I do not want to be doing so much traveling, and I  will not be returning to Rwanda this June. Going that distance, for only a week and a half is simply to difficult for me.

Let’s face it, I already have my Glamorous Emeritus status, so there is no need to keep the air miles up.

One of things I have to examine while doing my Fourth Step, coming up soon with my new sponsor, is the role of travel and the emotional attachment to it. It has been something present throughout almost my entire life.

I went on many trips with my family as a child. My mother relocated us to Thunder Bay with I was 12, and we moved even within Winnipeg about once a year.

At the age of 18 I moved to Vancouver, only to return to Winnipeg with the right connections to start selling MDA and make enough money to relocate to the south of France.

From there, I returned to Winnipeg where I remained hopelessly depressed that I would forever remain there. Moving to Regina wasn’t exactly an urban promotion either, but I needed a job. Thanks to playing region politics I managed to get on a few committees with the Canadian AIDS Society and once again I was traveling all over the country. So much so that I began to remember flight attendants, and booked all my flights by the flight numbers.

A year later I returned to Winnipeg, and still flew across the country. While during all this travel I set up a very nice social network in Toronto, and finally I couldn’t stand that feeling at Pearson Airport waiting to return to the middle of nowhere, a place where I felt life was just passing me by.

It took years after moving to Toronto to not feel those pains of angst when driving to the airport.

When the hooker years began, once again I was flying all over the US, and then Europe. New York and Amsterdam were my second homes.

In 2003 I got my dog Buster as a commitment to stay put and not be taking off. But only lasted until the fall of 2003 when accepted into translation studies and quickly ran off to Paris for a few weeks. Now I was traveling to francophone places, in particular Belgium to visit a friend, and keep my French up.

In 2005, I went to Quebec for a month, and then my AIDS work began, and well the rest is history.

I’ve recognized a few things.

Travel to me is:

*a drug, a way to escape (saying no to going to Rwanda is as hard as taking a back of crystal or a fine bottle of Scotch and flushing it down the toilet)
*it gives me a sense of identity, a sense of importance and status.

It’s time to stay put (I have St. John’s and Mexico City commitments, but after that, only what is necessary), and start creating a life in the city I live.

April 30/08 Removing Hatred (0)

Posted 30 April, 2008 in Uncategorized

This was the meditation card I managed to pull out of the deck two days in a row. And, for me, nothing happens by coincidence.

On Monday, I was feeling really tired. My cold was starting to flare up, and I had screwed up my Lithium from nights to mornings etc. Needless to say, while I sorted that out, my headspace was not in a great place.

Feeling very tired, and off to pick up a new microwave, as that manage to die as well, in addition to the dogs falling physically and mentally apart.

In the hallway, in a daze, I waited for the elevator. It opened and in my fog I went to walk in. Low and behold there is this “person” - I can’t give too many details as for anonymity - coming out.

I stepped back and said, “Oh I’m sorry.”

I heard: Well you should be, you know there are other people around here than you, you know.

Now this “person” has been brought to the board for their behaviour, I know because I’m on it. This person is also a raging alcoholic, and at times a crystal head, but further from any image you would have in your mind with my description.

I stepped back and said, “You know I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, but there is no need to be lack that.”

WELL YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER, I COULD HAVE HURT YOU, YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOW BETTER, FUCKER.

I know I shouldn’t have engaged, but I did.

NO:1 There is no call for your behaviour

NO:2 I’m on the board if you’ve forgotten, the one you’ve been brought to for this kind of abusive behavioiur

FUCK YOU, THE YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER

NO:3 Keep talking because you are giving great material to write a complaint with.

And I did, and tonight this person is getting hauled in and being told get it together or get out.

I spoke with the manager and said, “Let’s be part of this persons recovery and kick them out so maybe they might hit that bottom that need’s to hit.”

In all my time I’ve never dealt with such a vile mean person in this building, and I’ve been here since 94.

However, I could not let it go. This women hit something that brought violent negativity in my head. At one point I could imagine grabbing this mouthy belligerent  person by the hair and ramming his or her head into the wall.

Woah, I began to think, where is this coming from.

At last night’s meeting it clicked. It hit that nerve from when I was in that very abusive relationship, which included a lot of drugs and alcohol, and was physically, verbally and emotionally abusive.

That raw nerve, that anger I felt J. would yell at me, “What the fuck are you going to do to me next, give me fucking AIDS.” All the yelling, the ugliness all resurfaced, but I couldn’t seem them. These ghosts were hidden in the drama in the moment.

Once the connect was made, I had let go of this lingering intense hatred I was feeling and couldn’t figure out.

Just take my advice, if you ever meet someone with the last name of Mansion, or any other famous serial killer, this is the universe providing you with a very big flag to run.

Some scars run deep, but they don’t have to rule your life. Once the awareness is created, the entire scenario shifted.

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